A Little Girl of Long Ago; Or, Hannah Ann

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

  Yes, Hanny Underhill was a little girl again in gaiter-length dresses,and her braids tied across at the back of her head. They let her sleepuntil the latest moment; and then she had to hurry off to school. Buther eyes were bright; and she could have danced along the street, if ithad been the proper thing to do.

  Daisy did not fare so well. She had a headache, and was very languid.Joe said Hanny had better not go down; and that Daisy would be all rightto-morrow. So Hanny studied her lessons, and began to read "Vanity Fair"aloud to grandmother. But grandmother said she didn't care about such asilly girl as Amelia; and though there were wretched women in the world,she didn't believe any one ever was quite so scheming and heartless asBecky.

  Then Hanny told her father about the dancing, and the partners she had,and Mr. Andersen, who was going back to Germany to marry some distantcousin. Altogether, it was a splendid time, only she felt as if therehad been some kind of a Cinderella transformation; and that she wassafe only as long as she wore short frocks.

  A week afterward, Mr. Andersen returned to the city, and Hanny wasinvited down to tea at the Jaspers. They had a nice time, only the talkwas not quite so charming as when it was interspersed with dancing.

  He was to go to Paris also. And now Louis Napoleon had followed in thefootsteps of his illustrious uncle, and was really Emperor of France.What a strange, romantic history his had been!

  After this, life went on with tolerable regularity. There was plenty ofamusement. Old New York did not suffer. Laura Keene thrilled them withthe "Hunchback," and many another personation. Matilda Heron was doingsome fine work in Milman's "Fazio," and the play of "The Stranger" heldaudiences spell-bound. Then there were lectures for the moresober-minded people; and you heard youngish men who were to be famousafterward. Spirit-rappings had fallen a trifle into disfavour; andphrenology was making converts. It was the proper thing to go toFowler's and have your head examined, and get a chart, which sort ofsettled you until something else came along. Young ladies were goinginto Combe's physiology and hygiene and cold bathing. Some very hardyand courageous women were studying medicine. Emerson was in a certainway rivalling Carlyle. Wendell Phillips was enchanting the cities withhis silver tongue. There had been Brooke Farm; and Margaret Fuller hadflashed across the world, married her Italian lover, who fought whileshe wrote for liberty; and husband, wife, and child had met their tragicdeath in very sight of her native land.

  People were thinking really great thoughts; and there was a ferment ofmoral, transcendental, and aesthetical philosophy. Women met to discussthem in each other's parlours, prefiguring the era of clubs. Alice andPh[oe]be Cary's receptions had grown to be quite the rage; and Anne C.Lynch was another figure in the social-literary world. Beecher wasdrawing large audiences in Brooklyn, and telling the old truths in a newfashion. There is always a great seething and tumult before the waterfairly boils and precipitates the dregs to the bottom.

  But whatever comes and goes, young girls are always growing up with theflush and fragrance and elusive fascinations of spring. To-day, acredulous tenderness and overwhelming faith in the past; to-morrow, alittle doubtful, hesitatingly anticipative, with the watchwords of "TheTrue, the Good, and the Beautiful;" and still concerned in the lateststyle of doing one's back hair, and if silver combs and gilt pins wouldkeep in fashion; and flushing celestial rosy red, yet with an odd senseof importance, when men began to lift their hats in a gravely politemanner, as if the laughing, hoydenish girl of yesterday, who strungherself out four or five wide on the sidewalk with books in hand, wasthe shy, refined, hesitating, utterly delicious young woman of to-day.

  There were times when Hanny stood on the mysterious borderland. She usedto steal up and look at the wraith of a ball-dress hanging in thethird-floor closet, put away with the "choice" garments. The skirtlooked so long, almost uncanny. She could see the girl who had gone tothe banquet, who had danced with young men who asked "the pleasure" withthe politest inclination of the head. And, oh, the lovely dances she hadwith Mr. Andersen! The bewitching Spanish movement floated through herbrain; and the young man's voice--what a curious, lingering sweetness ithad--went over her like a wave of music. Of course his German cousinwould fall in love with him,--how could she help it?--and they wouldmarry. They would go to Paris once a year or so, when business took him;they would go over to London; but their real home would be in someGerman town, or maybe in the castle from which the pretty grandmotherhad run away with her American lover. She was so glad there were realromances left in the world. It wasn't likely any would happen to her.She was not tall, nor elegant, nor handsome; and though she could sing"Bonnie Doon," "Annie Laurie," "A Rose-tree in Full Bearing," and "TheGirl I Left behind me," for her father, she was not a company singer.But she really didn't mind. Her father would want her. She wasn't quiteresigned to being an old maid; but then she need not worry until she wastwenty-five. And when you came to that, half the relatives were fightingfor Miss Cynthia Blackfan; and Mr. Erastus Morgan had invited her overto Paris to see the new Emperor, who was copying in every way hisgranduncle who had ruled half Europe.

  Then she would close the closet door and run blithely downstairs with abit of song. That was Miss Nan Underhill up there; and in her shortschool-girl frock she was plain household Hanny.

  But they had delightful times. Doctor Joe bought a new buggy, very widein the seat, and used to take her and Daisy out when the days werepleasant. Then Charles and Josie came over evenings, or they went toMrs. Dean's, and talked and sang and discussed their favourite poems andstories, and thought how rich the world was growing, and wondered howtheir grandfathers and grandmothers had existed!

  The little rue in the Underhills' cup became sweetened presently withthe balm of love and forbearance, that time or circumstances usuallybrings about when truth and good sense are at the helm.

  Matters had gone rather hard with Delia Whitney of late. In a certainfashion, she had come to the parting of the intellectual ways. Peoplewere as eager then as now to discover new geniuses. There were not somany writing, and it was easier to gain a hearing. She had beensuccessful. She had been praised; her stories and poems were accepted,published, and paid for. She had been made much of by her brother'sfriends, and some of the literary women she had met.

  She began to realise it was not altogether wandering at one's sweetwill, unless one had a garden of unfailing bloom in which to gather theflowers of poetry, or even prose. There were greater heights than evengirlhood's visions. But there must be training and study to reach them,and she had been lilting along in a desultory way, like a carelesschild.

  But had she any real genius? When she bent her whole mind to thecultivation of every energy, what if she should find it was energy andimagination merely? Her novel did not progress to her satisfaction.Characters might be common-place; but there was to be force enough intheir delineation to keep the attention of the reader. They must beclear-cut, vivid; and hers seemed all too much alike, with no salientpoints.

  "Do you suppose no one ever felt discouraged before?" asked Ben, withhis brave, sweet smile. "That's no sign."

  "But if I really wasn't a genius? And I have had so many splendid plansand plots in my brain; but when they come out, they are flat and weak. Idon't ever expect to stand on the top-most round; but I can't stay downat the bottom always. I would rather not be anywhere."

  Ben comforted her in his quiet fashion.

  "Oh, what should I do without you!" she cried. "I want to achievesomething for your sake."

  "You will achieve. And if you do not, there is enjoyment left. Youinspire other people."

  "With a kind of girlish nonsense that passes for wit. But older mindsdemand the real article."

  "You have a certain brightness of talk that brings out the best in otherpeople. That is a rare gift, I am beginning to observe. Put the novel byfor a little while."

  "But every time I take it out, it seems worse," she returned ruefully.

  Th
en she admitted another worry.

  "Aunt Patty stumbled and fell about a month ago in her room. She waslame for some days; and I can see she isn't quite the same. Motherthinks it was a stroke. She is old, you know, and if she should be laidup! She clings to me so. You see, she misses Nora, who was running inand out, and the young girls who came here, and--oh, Ben, I am afraid Iam growing stupid!"

  Ben laughed and kissed her, and told her not to cross bridges until shecame to them.

  Then Theodore went to Washington for a fortnight; and Ben felt that itwas hard for Delia to be bereft of that useful article, a man around thehouse. When Theodore returned, there was an imperative journey to theWest. Already there were clouds rising that disquieted the wiseststatesmen who were studying how to prevent any outward clashing. Mr.Whitney, with his _savoir faire_, was considered one of the best men tosend on a _quasi_ political mission.

  "You just drop in to supper every evening, Ben," he said with hisGood-bye. "Dele has a head worth that of any half-dozen women; but Ilike to feel some one is looking after her. Mother is away a good deal."

  The. had a misgiving Ben and Delia might want to marry; but theycouldn't possibly spare Delia. So he was very friendly and obliging toBen.

  "Mother," oddly enough, was taking a great interest in the small end ofthe woman question, that was pushing its way in among other things. Mr.Whitney had been the most indulgent of husbands, and her sons hadaccepted household discomforts with no grumbling. But she took mostkindly to the emancipation of women. She had a friend in Brooklyn whowas lecturing on the subject; and she had vague aspirations that wayherself. She was still a woman of fine presence and a fair share ofintelligence.

  Bridget had married, and been superseded by an untrained Katy. AuntPatty was growing rather weak-hearted and childish, so Delia did haveher hands full, and but little time for writing.

  Theodore had been absent hardly a week when the stroke came. Onemorning, Aunt Patty was unable to move hand or foot on one side, andcould hardly speak intelligibly, though her face kept its sweetexpression. Mrs. Whitney had gone away somewhere with her friend.

  When Ben heard the sad story that night, and folded the trembling,sobbing girl to his heart, his resolve was taken. A nurse had come, tobe sure; but Delia should not bear this trial alone. He must live here,and comfort her with his love.

  He went home quite early that evening. His father and Hanny were inJoe's study; his mother sat alone, darning stockings.

  She glanced up and smiled; but when she saw his grave face, she said,"Oh, Ben, what has happened?"

  "They are in great trouble down at Beach Street. Old Aunt Boudinot hashad a stroke of paralysis. Mrs. Whitney has gone on a little journeywith a friend; and Delia is alone. Mother, I have resolved to be marriedand help her bear her burthen. There is no immediate danger of MissBoudinot dying, I believe; but since The. is away--they need some one--"

  "Ben!"

  Then she looked in her boy's face. Benny Frank and Jim were still boysto her. There was Joe to be married before it came their turn, and poorGeorge, if he should live to come back. But it was not a boy's face, nora boy's pleading eyes, that met hers. A man's grave sweetness, and senseof responsibility, shone in the clear, deep grey orbs, and the wholeface had matured, so that she was amazed, bewildered.

  "Mother dear," he began, "can't you wish me God speed, as you have theothers? I've never loved any one but Delia; I never shall. I know I canmake her happy; and isn't there some duty on my side? Am I to demandeverything, and throw out a few crumbs of comfort now and then? We haveknown each other long enough to be quite sure, quite satisfied. But shehas said all along she would not marry me until she could be considereda daughter of the house. I shall persuade her to now, unless--mother,can't you give her a welcome?"

  He put his arms about his mother's neck. Was there some mysteriousstrength and manliness in him she had not realised before, even in hisvery voice. When had she lost her boy? What a pang went to her inmostheart. Yes, he was a man, and he had a right to himself. She was not aselfish woman; but her face dropped down on his shoulder and she criedsoftly.

  "Mother--dear." There was a sweet, faint break in his voice, and hekissed her brow softly.

  "You have been such a good boy, Ben. I've been a little worriedsometimes about Jim; but you have gone on so straight and steadfast. Ido thank the Lord for all of you. And I have wanted you to have thebest--"

  "She is the best to me, mother. Like her a little for my sake," hepleaded tenderly.

  "I _do_ like her. If she makes you happy--"

  That was all. If Delia made her son as happy as Dolly or Cleanthe--

  Ben kissed his mother. Ten years ago she had thought kissing ratherfoolish for anybody but the little girl. Now her big sons always kissedher. Perhaps there was more love in the world.

  They began to make plans presently. Ben was in favour of a quietmarriage; and of course he would remain at Beach Street. Delia hadpromised to care for her aunt; and there was no one else to takecharge.

  "I don't know as I have been just right about it," said Mrs. Underhill."But Mrs. Whitney's carelessness and inefficiency have always tried me.Still, the children have turned out well. Delia is smart, and capable;and since you are quite resolved--"

  Ben smiled then; and it went to his mother's heart. He knew he had wonthe victory.

  The next morning she said to him:--

  "Ben, I've decided to go down and see Delia. I have never been there butonce, since they went to Beach Street. Could you stop and tell her? Giveher my love. I'm very sorry all this should happen, and she alone."

  Mrs. Underhill was not given to half-hearted measures. When the work wasdone, and the dinner planned out, she dressed herself and wentdown-town. Delia was a little embarrassed at first; but they talkedabout Aunt Boudinot, and she went up to see her. The sweet old facelighted up, and she reached out her "best hand," in a sad sort offashion; but she could utter only one word at a time.

  "Ben said, I must keep you to dinner, and he would come up," exclaimedDelia, with a bright blush. It was so like old times to hear hercheerful voice. "And you will be late at home."

  Delia ran down and put on a clean cloth, and wiped the dishes over witha dry towel, to take off the roughness Katy always left behind in hermanipulations. And she broiled the steak herself. She could do that toperfection.

  Then they arranged about the marriage. Delia certainly did need someone. It was not worth while to make any fuss. Mrs. Whitney would surelybe back by Monday, and it was appointed for that evening.

  Dolly took the news with cordial sweetness. Margaret was sorry that Benhad not looked a little higher; but since it must be, they would makethe best of it. Hanny was delighted. Joe went down that very evening,and gave the young people his best love.

  Mrs. Whitney came home on Saturday. She considered the step veryjudicious. She thought they had been engaged long enough. Then Ben andThe. were such good friends; and with The. away so much, it waslonesome. "She was glad they had set the marriage for Monday evening,for she had promised to go out to Buffalo on Tuesday with Mrs. Stafford.A nurse was the proper thing for Aunt Patty. It was too bad, to be sure;but at her time of life, one might expect almost anything. And she, Mrs.Whitney, never had been any sort of a nurse; so it was folly for her toundertake it." She was very sweet to Aunt Patty. She had a good deal ofthe suavity that helps matters to run easily, and her sympathies wereboundless.

  Delia's sisters, and their children, and a few friends were invited. Allthe Underhills came, and Hanny was bridesmaid; but she wore her lastsummer's embroidered muslin, which was not long in the skirt.

  They missed Ben a good deal, though he ran up every now and then. AndTheodore was gone six weeks, instead of two or three. Now that Mrs.Underhill had really "given in," she was most cordial and sympathetic toher new daughter. Doctor Joe went down every day, though very littlecould be done, since even a physician could not fight against old age.Joe thought Delia very sweet and patient.

  There were
two great undertakings engrossing the public mind. One was agrand library. Old Mr. John Jacob Astor, some years previous, had left alarge sum of money for this purpose; and there were heated discussionsas to its scope and purpose. It would be a reference library rather thanan entirely free library for general readers. But it would be a fineaddition to the city.

  The other was the Crystal Palace. There had been the first famousWorld's Fair at Sydenham, opened by the Prince Consort. And now, we weretrying our energy and ingenuity to have something worthy of attractingthe nations. Reservoir Square had been selected; and the great ironbraces and supports and ribs had been watched with curiously eager eyes,as they spread out into a giant framework, and were covered with glassthat glinted in the sun like molten gold. When its graceful dome arose,enthusiasm knew no bounds.

  We had not dreamed of the great White City then. But we were only in theearly middle part of the century.

  A park had been opened on the east side, out of an old tract known as"Jones's Woods," and was quite a picnic-place for the working-people ona holiday. There was a talk about another, and, perhaps, the inspirationwas evolved as the Fair grounds were being put in attractive order. Ashort time afterward, the Central Park board was appointed, withWashington Irving as president.

  The country was wild and rough all about. Here and there, clusters ofhouses began to indicate the coming city. Kip farm had not disappeared;and people talked of Strawberry Hill and Harlem Heights; and thereremained some fortifications of the old Rock House of 1812 memory. Theold times were recalled, as people went rambling around.

  Broadway still kept its vogue and elegance on the dollar side. There wasThompson's and Taylor's, where the stylish young ladies stopped in theafternoon for chocolate or cream and confections, and theatre partieswent after the play. But, on the whole, there were mysterious stridesup-town.

  The old streets were quaint and cool in summer, with the trees that hadgrown for years in ungrudged spaces. The park in Beach Street was stilllovely; and now Hanny often went over from school and stayed to tea withBen and Delia. Daisy came down as well; and they talked of Nora, who wasgetting on famously, and who had sung at an out-of-doors fete for achildren's charity.

  Delia was happy and charming; but she was very much engrossed with homeaffairs. Nurses grew tired and went away; and Aunt Patty became more andmore helpless.

  Then came the great event to Hanny's life, and she was quite nervousover it. This was graduation; but when she had passed the examinationssuccessfully, the real care was over.

  And the new clothes! The old ones had been made to do through thespring; but now there was no question about long skirts. There werepretty plaid summer-silks,--everybody wore them then, and they werealmost as cheap as now,--lawns, a light grey cashmere for ordinaryoccasions, and a white India muslin for graduation. The very nextevening Dolly was to give her a party.

  Grandmother thought it ought to be at home, instead.

  "She will want one in the fall," said Dolly, "to announce that she isreally Miss Underhill, and ready for society. Home will be the place forthat. And she will be getting acquainted with young people through thesummer. She's never been anything but a little girl."

  There wasn't such a fuss made about sweet girl graduates then; and,later on, Rutgers Institute was to wheel into line and become a college;but even now they had bouquets and baskets of flowers. And some of thegirls had lovers, and were engaged, even if there was no co-education.The chapel was crowded with admiring friends; and the girls looked sweetand pretty in their white gowns and flowing curls; for youth has a charmand beauty of its own that does not depend on regular features, orstyle, or any of the later accessories of life. It is an enchanted landof sunny skies and heavenly atmospheres.

  She came home out of it all with a curious new feeling. That night ofthe banquet it had been almost a masquerade. Even now the blue shimmerand clouds of white ruffles seemed to belong to some other state. Shewondered a little if she would ever wear it again.

  There were some pretty gifts for her at home. Josie Dean and CharlieReed came around in the evening. He had passed his first year'sexaminations successfully.

  Doctor Joe and Jim and the elder people were talking very earnestlyabout the duties and the purposes of life. Josie touched Hanny's hand,and, with a little movement, the sign girls understand, drew her out onthe porch.

  "Let us walk down the path. Oh, Hanny, I've something to tell you!" andher voice was in a sort of delicious tremble. "May be you havesuspected. I told Charlie I _must_ confess it to you; though we do notmean to say much about it at present. Oh, Hanny, can't you guess?"

  There were so many things; it was something joyful, certainly. Sheglanced up and smiled. Josie's face was all one roseate flush.

  "Oh!" with a mysterious throb.

  "We are engaged, dear. I don't know when we began to love each other. Wehave been so much with each other, you know. He has helped me with mylessons; and we have sung, and played, and read, and gone to churchtogether. It was like having a brother. Tudie and I used to envy youthe boys. And it was not quite like a brother either, for anotherfeeling came in. Sometimes I wanted to run away, such a queer tremblecame over me. Then there were hours when I could hardly wait for him tocome home from the seminary. And for a while, he was so grave, Iwondered if I had offended him. And then--do you suppose any one cantell just _how_ it happens?--though they always do in books. All in aninstant, you know some one loves you. It's strange and beautiful andexciting; and it seems as if the best and loveliest of all the world hadcome to you. We have been engaged a whole week; and every day it growsmore mysteriously delightful."

  "It is so strange," said Hanny, with a long, indrawn breath."And--Charlie!"

  "Oh, don't you remember how we waylaid Mr. Reed one night, and beggedhim to let Charlie go to singing-school? He laughed about it the othernight, though he said you were the bravest of the three. And he isdelighted with it. Then mother is so fond of Charles. Of course it willbe a two years' engagement. Mother doesn't want me to teach school now.She thinks I ought to learn about housekeeping and sewing, and fitmyself for a minister's wife. That seems so solemn, doesn't it? Oh, I dowonder if I can be good enough! And visiting the poor, and helping tothe right way, and being patient and sweet, and real religious! But hewill help me; and he is so good! I think he couldn't have been anythingbut a minister. I _do_ suppose Mrs. Reed knows about it in heaven. Shewas so different that last year, sweeter and kinder; and we feel sureshe has gone to heaven. But we want her to know; and dear little Tudie!You must come over and spend the day, now that school is ended; and wewill do nothing but talk about it. Oh, Hanny, I hope some day you willhave a lover! But you seem such a sort of a little girl even yet. And Ihave worn long skirts a whole year."

  A lover! Hanny's face was scarlet in the fragrant dusk.

  "We must go in. I promised mother we would not stay late. And Charliehas some examinations for to-morrow. You may tell your mother and DaisyJasper."

  Joe said they needn't hurry off so; and Charles flushed as he looked atJosie. They rose and said good-night; and Josie kissed Hanny in arapturous kind of fashion.

  "I'll bet a sixpence those two youngsters are engaged," said Jim."Hanny, what was all the long talk about?"

  She was not quite sure all the rest were to be taken in the confidence;but she looked so conscious, and Jim was so positive, that she admittedthe fact.

  "That's just like a theological student."

  "It is a very suitable engagement. Mrs. Dean has brought Josie upsensibly; and Charles is such a fine fellow. Of course they must all bepleased about it," commented Mrs. Underhill.