CHAPTER XVIII
A REVELATION
It was a lovely journey if the term could be applied to theold-fashioned stagecoach. But the season of the year, the bloom andbeauty everywhere, and the pleasant companionship lightened the fewdiscomforts for Daffodil. There are natures that refrain from spoilinganticipations by cares or perplexities left behind, and hers was one.Indeed, hers was not complex, and people, women especially, had notlearned to crowd so many interests, and fears, and hopes together. Shewould see those she loved the best, yes, she did love them the best ofall now.
How glad they were to get her back! Yes, there were changes andchanges. New business plans and firms, old ones enlarged, discoveriesof coal and iron all about, materials for glass-making, a paper millunder consideration.
But the war was not yet over. The advisers of the King had begun toadopt a tone of insolence toward the young Republic; indeed, in spiteof peace being signed, there was still an endeavor to stir up theIndians on the outskirts of many of the towns. The Indian villagesalong the Maumee received supplies of arms and ammunition, and werefortifying their own forts. The alarm spread down the Ohio. TheBritish had not yet given up all the forts they had held in thepreceding war, in spite of the agreements.
Tired of inaction, Lieutenant Langdale had, with several others,offered his services to General Anthony Wayne, as there was great needof trained officers. So Mrs. Langdale was doubly delighted with thisvisit of her son, of whom she was quite as proud as of her soldier.
"And I hope you have made good your chance with Daffodil Carrick," shesaid to him a few days after his return. "She'll be quite worth thewinning, even if the father's money should all go to the son, who is avery promising lad, I hear. But they count on having a big place overthe river, and that is all her share. One of you boys ought to winher. I thought it would be Ned. And you have had a chance all winter."
Archibald smiled, but there was no disappointment in it.
"She was a great favorite all through the winter, and she can marryany time she likes. But I have too much to do to take upon myselffamily cares, and I think she isn't the sort of girl to be in a hurry.We are just fine, sincere friends."
"But I want you to marry. And I've counted on grandchildren. I wish Ihad you both settled just around me. I shall be a lonesome old woman."
"Then when I am rich enough to set up a house, you shall come and livewith me."
"Do you think Dilly's going to let that miserable mess of a marriagespoil all her life?"
"Oh, she is very happy, mother; girls don't marry as young as theydid, and it is a good thing, too. They have some years of bright, gaygirlhood, and won't get worn out so soon. Daffodil is a charminggirl."
"But she's getting quite along, and it isn't like being a widoweither," said the mother, who thought every girl ought to marry.
Daffodil watched mother and grandmere with longing eyes. Yes,grandmere _was_ getting old. Her mother was losing the prettygirlishness, but she was very happy in her husband, and her son, whowas tall and very good-looking, quite toned down in manner.
The house had no more changes. Here was her pretty room. Oh, yes,there was a new bright rag carpet on the floor. She went around with atender touch on everything, patting the white pillow-slips,straightening a picture or two, and wondering in a curious fashion ifsometime her brother's wife would be here and a group of merrychildren--she hoped there would be a houseful of them. And gran wouldbe a great-grandfather, and sit in the big chair at the corner of thefireplace, that he had covered over with buckskin of his own tanning.Where she would be she did not plan. Only she would not mind being anold maid, she thought.
Everybody in the little circle supposed she would marry Dr. Langdale,and were surprised when his mother sorrowfully admitted it was not tobe.
"There's them that goes through the woods, and picks up a crookedstick at the last;" and Norah shook her head resentfully.
"My stick won't be crooked, I promise you," laughed the girl.
"You may have no stick at all and go limping afoot and alone," was thecurt rejoinder.
She was very happy, why she could hardly tell, for she felt she oughtnot to be. There came a letter with the stamp of the office on it andit had two enclosures. Her guardian's was most pleasant and fatherly.They missed her very much, but Mrs. Jarvis had taken on a new phase ofkindliness so that he should not long too much for Daffodil, and Aldiswas like a son. They went out driving together. And Aldis had grown sofond of the garden that he had not used to care much about. Theweather was fine and he really was quite well for an old gentleman.
She almost dreaded to open the other. A blinding sort of consciousnesspervaded her as if she were a prisoner, as if there was asked of hera curious, undefined surrender that she could hardly understand.Before, she had gone on simply and been overtaken, as it were, givenwithout knowing just what she gave. Was it because she was older,wiser? She had still to learn that there were many mysteries in lovethat only a lifetime could explain.
She let her eyes wander over it in a vague sort of fashion. Did shereally belong to him? He seemed to take possession of her in a waythat she could not gainsay, could not even refuse.
But did she want to refuse?
She went out to the keeping room after awhile. Her mother sat alone,sewing some trifle. She came and laid both letters in her lap, thenwent and sat on the door sill where a great maple threw its green armsabout in the soft breeze. There was a cuckoo somewhere, ayellow-hammer searching for half-hidden food, and a thrush with hislong, sweet note.
"Yes," her mother remarked, as if in answer to a question. "He laidthe matter before your father a month ago in the letter that came withyou."
"Oh!" Then after a long while--"Mother, it is nothing like it wasbefore. Then I did not doubt myself, now I wonder. He is so wise inmany ways, I feel as if I had to reach up and up and I am a littleafraid. I have seen so many fine girls in the city. And beautifulwomen."
"The woman a man chooses is the best to him always."
She did not torment herself with the thought that he was doing thisfor her guardian's sake. She felt that he was not the kind of man totake the mere crumbs of love while some one else feasted on the heartof love divine. What troubled her was whether she could love enough.And she hated to think there had been any previous regard. But did henot say, too, that he had been fascinated by an unworthy liking?
The summer seemed to check the wave of prosperity and men looked ateach other in half affright. For no one knew just how the tide mightturn. When the Indians made their sortie on Fort Recovery word camethat the garrison had been massacred, but Captain Gibson bravely heldit in spite of an all-day attack, and at night the enemy retreated.General Wayne was in command of all the forces and the Indians madevarious feints, hoping to be joined by the British, who were urgingthem on, but there was no big regular battle until that of FallenTimbers, where a tornado had swept through the woods some time before.A few miles below was a British fort, the meeting place of the westernfur traders. It was a hard fought field, but the victory for theAmericans was such a signal one that it ended the terror of a frontierwar that had hung over the border so long.
No town rejoiced more than Pittsburg, which lost some men and wasproud of heroes who had come through the conflict unscathed. Amongthese was Lieutenant Langdale, whose bravery and foresight gained hima captaincy.
"He's a brave fellow!" declared grandad, and Daffodil was glad he hadwon some of the fame and glory for which he had longed.
"It's fine to be a soldier when you can fight and have nothing happento you," declared Felix. "But I wouldn't want to be among the killed.There's so many splendid things in life. I hope I will live to be ahundred."
There were many matters to share Daffodil's attention, though she didmiss the bright society and the knowledge branching out on every side.Yet these girls who had married half a dozen years ago and had growncommon and careless with their little ones about them seemed veryhappy. It certainly was an industrious community
, but they played asthey worked. There were games that would have been no discredit tomodern scores, there was dancing and merriment and happiness as well.
Was Daffodil learning her lesson? Aldis Bartram thought very slowly.But he was a man who prized hard won contests. And if with theattractive young men about her through the winter she had not beenwon, then she was not an easy prize. He smiled at times over hercareful and futile reasoning. At least they would have the winter togo over the ground. And though he was becoming an ardent lover he wasnot an impatient one.
There are some events and decisions in life that are precipitated by ashock, the film that held one in thrall, veiling the clear sight, issuddenly disrupted. And this happened to Daffodil Carrick. Her fatherput an English paper in her hand one evening as he came up the pathwhere roses were still blooming. It had been remailed in Philadelphia.
"From Madame Clerval," she said with a smile. "Some gay doings, Ifancy. She has friends in London."
She glanced it over carelessly. The summer struggles had made her moreof a patriot, and brought to her mind vividly the morning she had runout to know the cause of Kirsty Boyle's call and the ringing of hisbell. A very little girl. She was always glad she had heard it.
She turned the paper to and fro rather impatiently. Oh, what was herewith the black insignia of death: "_Died, at Hurst Abbey, of amalignant fever. Margaretta, wife of Jeffrey, Lord Andsdell, onlyremaining son of the Earl of Wrenham._"
She was not interested in the beauty of the bride, who had been agreat belle in her day and won no little fame on the stage, nor theterrible accident that had deprived the Earl of two older sons andtwo grandsons, paving the way for the succession of Lord Andsdell. Sheshuddered and turned ghostly pale, and was terrified with a strangepresentiment. But she could not talk of it just yet and was glad Norryand grandad came in to spend the evening with them.
The next morning she gave her father a little note with "important"written on the corner of the folded paper.
"What now?" enquired her father laughingly, "Did you forget yourpostscript?"
She assented with a nod.
Then she went about her daily duties, but a great terror surged at herheart. She was to remember through everything that she was the onlywoman Jeffrey Andsdell loved. Long ago she had cast it out. No doubthe had been happy in his ancestral home, at least, he had chosen that,well, wisely, too. But to ask that the woman he wronged should clingto her burthen!
How slowly the days passed. Aldis Bartram might have been away whenthe note came--he had been to Baltimore on some troublesomebusiness--but waiting seemed very hard. And when it drew near to thetime, she used to take different paths down by the square where thestage came in, just far enough away to see, but not be seen, and standwith a blushing face and a strange trembling at her heart. One dayshe was rewarded. There was the manly figure, the erect head, thefirm, yet elastic step. A sudden pride leaped up in her heart.
She waylaid him in a bypath.
"Daffodil!" he cried in surprise. "What has happened?
"Nothing, nothing; I wanted to see you," but her voice trembled. "Comethis way."
"How mysterious you are!" If she meant to give him his _conge_ shecould have done it better by letter. And the clasp of her hand on hisarm had a clinging force.
"There is something for you to see. Let us turn here."
After a space through intervening trees they came to the open, whereshe paused and unfolded a paper she had held in her hand. "Read this,"she said, and he stared a moment silently.
One moment, another moment. How still it was, every bird had hushedits singing, even the crickets were not chirping.
"He will come back to America. He will come back for you now that heis free," Bartram subjoined hoarsely. Should he hold her or let hergo? Was the old love----
She faced him and slipped both hands over his shoulders, clasped themat the back of his neck. It seemed to him he had never seen such anentrancing light in her eyes.
"Aldis," she began, with tremulous sweetness, "I would rather be yourwife than the greatest duchess of them all." And then she hid herblushing face on his breast.
It would not be raised, but he kissed the brow, the eyelids, and saidin a shaken voice:
"Were you afraid----"
Then she raised the sweet face where he saw tears and the quick riftsof color, but there were high lights of resolve in the beautiful eyes.
"Not afraid anything could rekindle the glamor of that mistake, norany repentance on his part mend the deception. I was a child then. Idid not understand the depths that go to the making of a true love.All summer I have been learning----"
Then she paused and hid her face again.
"And there is a great deal more to learn, sweetheart. We shall go onstudying the delightful lesson all our lives, I trust, and never reachthe bottom of the cup of joy. Daffodil, you have already roused me toa wider, higher life. A year ago I would not have been worthy of you.Yes, I was blind and self-engrossed then. We will study the sweetlesson together."
Then they paused at a fallen log, not the old place that she nevercared to see again. A little stream came trickling down the high hilland there were tender bird voices as accompaniments to the deliciousconfession. It had grown slowly, she was so afraid of another mistake,but he would never need to doubt its truth, its duration, itscomprehensiveness.
It seemed minutes only and yet held the mysterious sweetness of hours.Then she heard a voice calling.
"Why--see! It is almost night! And that is Felix's voice. Oh, whathave I been doing?" and she rose in a startled manner.
"We will explain our iniquity," he said laughingly.
They met Felix. "Oh!" he exclaimed in surprise. "We couldn't think!And we had supper."
Then mother said, "Why, did you come in the stage? That was here hoursago," to Mr. Bartram, in a wondering tone.
"Yes; but we had a good deal of business to settle. I hope you didn'teat up all the supper?"
He studied them both curiously. Daffodil's face was scarlet.
"Mr. Bartram, are you going to marry her?" he asked with a boy's frankeagerness.
"I hope to. Are you going to object?"
"No," rather reluctantly. "Only I wish you were going to live here."
Bernard Carrick had gone downtown. It showed the strides Pittsburg hadmade when there was already a downtown. Barbe stood in the doorwaywatching, for now the sky was growing gray with coming evening. Butbefore Mr. Bartram spoke, she knew. One of the delights of the otherengagement had been the certainty of keeping her daughter, now thepang of separation pierced her to the quick.
"Mrs. Carrick," he said in an appealing tone, "will you take me for ason?" but Daffodil kissed her.
They did not want much supper, but the others returned to the tableand talked. He had only come for a few days, but he begged that theymight have a wedding in the early fall, just as soon as possibleindeed, for the journey was so long they could not afford to wastemuch time in courtship. They must be lovers afterward.
So, after much discussion to shorten the time, mid-September wassettled upon.
"Oh," Daffodil said in her most adorable tone, "I shall pray dailythat nothing will befall you, that God will send you back safely tome."
"And I shall be praying for you. Love surely opens one's heart toGod."
There was not much to be made ready. The girl laid aside this and thatfor the son's wife when he should take one, "for," said she, "there isso much in my new house already. And Felix must marry young, so youwill have a new daughter in my place."
She would not be married in church nor wear the olden wedding gown."Let it skip a generation," she said, "and that may change the luck."
So the time came and the lover so full of impatience. She would havethe ceremony in the old room that had been so interwoven with herlife, and she fancied the spirit of great-grandfather was sittingthere in the old chair and she went for his blessing.
The little girl passed out of Old Pittsburg and left behind
lonelyhearts. Grandad could not be reconciled, there were some fine youngfellows in the town that would make good husbands. But Norah gave hera blessing and the best of wishes. So Daffodil Bartram went out to hernew life, wondering how one could be so glad and happy when they wereleaving behind so much love.
Old Pittsburg did not vanish with the little girl, however. But shewent on her way steadily, industriously. The new century came in withgreat acclaim. Shipbuilding prospered. Iron foundries sprang up. Theglass works went from the eight pots and the capacity of three boxesat a blowing to double that number, then doubled it again. Theprimitive structure erected by George Anshuts before the century endedwas the progenitor of many others sending their smoke defiantly up inthe clear sky. And all along the Monogahela valley as well as inother places the earth gave up its stores of coal as it had given upits stores of iron.
And in 1816 Pittsburg was incorporated as a city and had a mayor andaldermen and her own bank. It was a new Pittsburg then, a hive ofhuman industry, where one business after another gathered and wherefortunes were evolved from real work, and labor reaps a rich reward.
There are not many of the old things left. The block house built in1764 by Colonel Bouquet still stands. A great depot covers the site ofthe ancient Fort, and the spot of Braddock's defeat. But there areDuquesne Heights, all her hills have not been levelled, if most of theold things have passed away. She is the workshop of the world now, onewriter calls her "the most unique city in the world." And she has notneglected the finer arts of beautifying. She has magnificentbuildings, fine libraries, and cultivated people, musical societies,and half a hundred benevolent institutions. And we must not forgetthat in six days after the firing on Fort Sumter a company ofPittsburgers marched to Washington and offered their services to thesecretary of war.
If the little girl had vanished, Daffodil Bartram found much happinessin the new home. M. de Ronville was not only delighted, but gratefulover his two children who were not of kindred blood, but of the finerand higher kin of love. There came children to the household, threeboys and one golden-haired girl, but he did not quite reach the yearsof his friend Duvernay. And when the two older sons were grown theycast their lot with Allegheny City, which in the course of time grewinto a lovely residential city, free from smoke and dust and noise,and theirs proved a noble patrimony. The Bartrams still had a son anddaughter, and the journey to Pittsburg no longer had to be made in astage coach.
Felix Duvernay Carrick made one of the notable citizens of the town,the author of several useful inventions and a most thriving businessman, not needing any of his sister's fortune, for grandad left himone, beside the one he was making with his brains and industry. AndBarbe was a happy grandmother to a merry flock, but she would neverleave the old house, though the farm was cut up by streets and housescrowded in upon them. And she kept her bed of daffodils to the verylast.
If there was not so much romance, it was the old story of theRhinegelt of the land and the rivers yielding up such treasures as fewcities possess, but without the tragedy of their legend. Work andthrift and the ingenuity of man have reared a magnificent city.
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