The Story in Emily's Book. Part I.
Lucy and Emily had now each a doll]
The little books brought by Lucy were not even looked at until theevening came which was to be given up to reading the first of them.Henry had begged that his book might be read last, because he said thathe should be sure to like it best; so Emily's was to afford theamusement for the first evening.
Mr. Fairchild gave notice in the morning of his being able to give upthat evening to this pleasure; not that he wished to hear the story,but that he meant to be of the party, and the root-house in the woodwas the place chosen.
Lucy and Emily had now each a doll to take, and there was some bustleto get them ready after lessons.
Henry took his knife and some little bits of wood to cut and carvewhilst the reading was going on; Mrs. Fairchild took her needlework;and there was a basket containing nice white cakes of bread made forthe purpose, a little fruit, a bottle of milk, and a cup. The littleones, by turns, were to carry this basket between them. Mr. Fairchildtook a book to please himself; and at four o'clock they set out.
When they all got to the hut they were soon all settled. There wereseats in the hut; Henry took the lowest of them. Mrs. Fairchild tookout her work; Mr. Fairchild stretched himself on the grass, withinsight of his family. Emily and Lucy were to read by turns, and Lucy wasto begin. She laid her pretty doll across her lap, and thus she began:
The Story in Emily's Book
"On the borders of Switzerland, towards the north, is a range of hills,of various heights, called the Hartsfells, or, in English, the Hills ofthe Deer. These hills are not very high for that country, though inEngland they would be called mountains. In winter they were indeedcovered with snow, but in summer all this snow disappeared, beinggradually melted, and coming down in beautiful cascades from theheights into the valleys, and so passing away to one or other of themany lakes which were in the neighbourhood.
"The tops of some of the Hartsfells were crowned with ragged rocks,which looked, at a distance, like old towers and walls and battlements;and the sides of these more rocky hills were steep and stony anddifficult. Others of these hills sloped gently towards the plain below,and were covered with a fine green sward in the summer--so fine andsoft, indeed, that the little children from the villages in the valleysused to climb up to them in order to have the pleasure of rolling downthem.
"These greener hills were also adorned with large and beautiful treesunder which the shepherds sat when they drove their flocks up on themountain pastures, called in that country the Alps, to fatten on theshort fine grass and sweet herbs, which grew there in the summer-time.
"Then the flowers--who can count the numbers and varieties of theflowers which grew on those hills, and which budded and bloomed throughall the lovely months of spring, of summer, and of autumn? Sometimesthe shepherds, as they sat in the shade watching their sheep, wouldplay sweet tunes on their pipes and flutes, for a shepherd who couldnot use a flute was thought little of in those hills. It was sweet tohear those pipes and flutes from a little distance, when all was quietamong the hills, excepting the ever restless and ever dancing waters.There were many villages among the hills, each village having a valleyto itself; but there is only one of these of which this story speaks.
"It was called Hartsberg, or the Town of the Deer, and was situated inone of the fairest valleys of the Hartsfells. The valley was accountedto be the fairest, because there was the finest cascade belonging tothose hills rushing and roaring at the very farthest point of thevalley; and the groves, too, on each side of the valley were very grandand old.
"The village itself was built in the Swiss fashion, chiefly of wood,with roofs of wooden tiles, called shingles; and many of them hadcovered galleries round the first floor. The only house much betterthan the others was the Protestant pastor's, though this was not muchmore than a large cottage, but it stood in a very neat garden.
"There were a few, but a very few, houses separate from this villageitself, built on the sides of the hills; and those belonged topeasants, or small farmers.
"In the summer-time strangers sometimes came from a distance to lookat the famous waterfall, and to gather such scarce flowers as theycould find on the hills. It was a good thing for Heister Kamp, thewidow who kept the little inn in the village, when these strangerscame, for it not only put money into her pocket, but gave her somethingto talk of. She was the greatest gossip in the valley, and, like allgossips, the most curious person also, for nothing could pass but shemust meddle and make with it; and it was very seldom that things werethe better for her meddling.
"Most of the inhabitants of the village were Protestants, but therewere a few Roman Catholics, and these had a priest, an elderly man, whowas a great friend of Heister Kamp, and might often be seen in herkitchen, talking over with her the affairs of the village. He wascalled Father St. Goar, and he had a small chapel, and a little bit ofa house attached to it. His chapel was less than the Protestant church,but it looked far more grand within, for there was an altar dressedwith artificial flowers, and burnished brass candlesticks, and over itwaxen figures of the Virgin Mary and her Child, in very gaudy thoughtarnished dresses.
"And now, having described the place, and some of the people, there isnothing to hinder the story from going on to something more amusing.
"On the right hand of the great waterfall, and perched high on thehill, was an old house standing in a very lovely and fruitful garden;the garden faced the south, and was sheltered from the north and eastwinds by a grove of ancient trees.
"The garden abounded with fruit and flowers and vegetables, and therewere also many bee-hives; behind the house were several sheds and otherbuildings, and a pen for sheep.
"This house was the property of a family which had resided there longerthan the history of the village could tell. The name was Stolberg, andthe family, though they had never been rich, had never sought help fromothers, and were highly respected by all who knew them.
"At the time of this history the household consisted of the venerablemother, Monique Stolberg, her son Martin, a widower, and the threechildren of Martin; Ella, Jacques, and Margot.
"Ella was not yet fourteen; she was a tall girl of her age, and hadbeen brought up with the greatest care by her grandmother, though madeto put her hand to everything required in her station. Ella was spokenof as the best-behaved, most modest, and altogether the finest andfairest of all the girls in the valley.
"Heister Kamp said that she was as proud and lofty as the eagle of thehills. But Ella was not proud; she was only modest and retiring, andsaid little to strangers.
"Jacques was some years younger than Ella; he loved his parents andsisters, and would do anything for them in his power; but he was hotand hasty, especially to those he did not love.
"Margot was still a little plump, smiling, chattering, child, almost ababy in her ways; but everyone loved her, for she was as a pet lamb,under the eye of the shepherd.
"Monique had received her, before she could walk, from her dyingmother, and she had reared her with the tenderest care.
"As to Martin, more need not be said of him but that the wish to pleaseGod was ever present with him. He had been the best of sons; and, whenhis wife died, he was rewarded for his filial piety by the care whichhis mother took of his children and his house.
"Monique had had one other child besides Martin; a daughter, who hadmarried and gone over the hills with her husband into France; but hermarriage had proved unfortunate. She had resided at Vienne, in thesouth of France, and there she had left one child, Meeta, a girl ofabout the age of Ella.
"When Martin heard of the death of his sister, and the forlorn state ofthe orphan, he set himself to go to Vienne; it was winter-time, and herode to the place on a little mountain pony which he had; but he walkedback nearly the whole way, having set Meeta, with her bundle, on thehorse.
"Everyone at home was pleased with Meeta when she arrived, thoughMonique secretly wondered how she could be so merry when her parentswe
re hardly cold in their graves. Meeta was not, however, cold-hearted,but she was thoughtless, and she enjoyed the change of scene, and waspleased with her newly-known relations and their manner of life.
"Little plump baby-like Margot was scarcely less formed in her mindthan Meeta, though Meeta was as old as Ella: and of the two, Margot, aswill be seen by-and-by, was more to be depended on than Meeta. Margot,when duly admonished on any point, could be prudent, but Meeta couldnot; yet Meeta was so merry, so obliging, and so good-humoured, thateveryone in the cottage soon learned to love her; though some of them,and especially Monique, saw very clearly that there was much to be doneto improve her and render her a steady character.
"She was quick, active, and ready to put her hand to assist inanything; but she had no perseverance; she got tired of every jobbefore it was half done, and she could do nothing without talking aboutit. As to religious principles and religious feelings, her grandmothercould not find out that she had any. She was so giddy that she couldgive no account of what she had been taught, though Monique gatheredfrom her that her poor mother had said much to her upon religioussubjects during her last short illness. The snow was still thick uponthe hills when Martin Stolberg brought Meeta to Hartsberg; so that theyoung people were quite well acquainted with each other before thegentle breezes of spring began to loosen the bands of the frost, anddissolve the icicles which hung from the rocks on the sides of thewaterfall.
"During that time poor Martin Stolberg was much tried by several heavylosses amongst his live stock: a fine cow and several sheep died, andwhen the poor man had replaced these, he said, with a sigh to hismother, that he must deny himself and his children everything whichpossibly could be spared, till better days came round again.
"His mother answered, with her usual quiet cheerfulness:
"'So be it, my son, and I doubt not but that all is right, for ifeverything went smooth in this world we should be apt to forget that weare strangers and pilgrims here, and that this is not our home.'
"When Monique told Ella what her father had said, the young girl gotleave to go down to the village, and, when there, she went to MadameEversil, the pastor's lady, and having told her of her father'sdifficulties, she asked her if she could point out any means by whichshe might get a little money to help in these difficulties.
"Monsieur Eversil, though a very simple man, was not so poor as manySwiss pastors are. He had no children, and his lady had had money.Madame wished to assist Ella, whom she much loved; but she ratherhesitated before she said to her:
"'I have been accustomed to have my linen taken up to be washed andbleached upon the mountains every summer. The woman who did this for meis just gone out of the country; if you will do it, you will gainenough during the summer to make up for the loss of the cow. But areyou not above such work as this, Ella? They say of you that you areproud--is this true?'
"The bright dark eyes of Ella filled with tears, and she looked downupon the polished floor of the parlour in which she was talking withMadame Eversil.
"'I know not, Madame,' she answered, 'whether I am proud or not, but Iearnestly desire not to be so; and I thank you for your kind proposal,and as I am sure that I know my grandmother's mind, I accept it mostjoyfully.'
"It was then settled that Madame Eversil should send all the linenwhich had been used during the winter, to be washed and whitened andscented with sweet herbs, up to the hill as soon as the snow wascleared from the lower Alps. And Ella went gaily back to tell hergrandmother and Meeta what she had done.
"They were both pleased; Meeta loved the thoughts of any newemployment, and Monique promised her advice and assistance. EvenJacques, when he came in, said he thought he might help also in drawingwater and spreading the linen on the grass.
"'And I,' said little Margot, 'can gather the flowers to lay upon thethings--can't I, Ella?'
"So this matter was settled, and everyone in the family was pleased.The winter at length passed away: the cascades flowed freely from themelting snow; the wind blew softly from the south; the grass looked ofthe brightest, freshest green; and every brake was gay with flowers,amongst which none were more beautiful or abundant than therose-coloured primrose or the blue gentian. The sheep, which had beenpenned up during the winter, were drawn out on the fresh pastures, andstrangers began to come to the valley to see the waterfall, near towhich they climbed by the sheep-path, which ran just under the hedge ofMartin Stolberg's garden. Even before May was over, Jacques, who wasall day abroad on the hills watching his sheep, counted eight or nineparties, which came in carriages to the inn, and climbed the mountainon foot.
"Heister Kamp was quite set up by the honour of receiving so many noblepersons in her house, and still more pleased in pocketing the silvershe got from them.
"There was great benefit also to Father St. Goar from the coming ofthese strangers, for he never failed to drop in just about the timethat the guests had finished their dinner, and was always invited totaste of any savoury dish which remained, to which Heister generallyadded a bottle of the ordinary wine of the country.
"Things were being carried on in this sort of way when, one morning inthe beginning of June, Margot and Meeta and Jacques went higher up thehill towards the waterfall to gather sweet herbs and flowers to strewupon the linen that was spread on the sward before the cottage door.
"Margot could not reach the roses which grew above her head, so shebusied herself in plucking the wild thyme and other lowly flowers whichgrew on either side of the path, putting them into her little basketand calling out from one moment to another:
"'See, Jacques! see, see, Meeta! see how pretty!'
"But Meeta and Jacques were too busy to attend to her, for Meeta hadclimbed on a huge piece which had fallen from the rock, and wasthrowing wreaths of roses to Jacques, who was gathering them up; but atlength it was impossible for them not to give some attention to thelittle one, she was calling to them with such impatience.
"'Come, Jacques! come, Meeta!' she cried, 'I have found such a prettylittle green fishing-net, all spotted with moons; and it has got rings,pretty gold rings; and there are yellow fish in it.' And she quitestamped with eagerness.
"'What does she say?' cried Meeta; 'little magpie, what is it?'
"'A pretty little net,' replied Margot, 'and fish in it, and moons andrings. Oh, come, come!'
"'She has found something strange,' said Jacques; 'I hope nothing thatwill hurt her.' And down he came tumbling, in his own active way,straight to his little sister, being quickly followed by Meeta.
"Margot was holding up what she had found, crying:
"'Pretty, pretty, pretty!' for it was quite bright and sparkling in thesun.
"'It is a purse!' said Jacques.
"'A green silk purse,' added Meeta, 'with gold spangles and tassels,and gold rings, and it is full of louis d'ors; give it to me, Margot.'
"'No, no, no!' cried the little girl; 'no, it is for grandmother; Ishall take it to her.'
"'It is a valuable purse,' said Jacques; 'somebody has lost it; nowgrandmother will be rich! Let me see it, Margot; let me see what is init.'
"'No, no, no!' cried the little one, clasping it in both her dimpledhands; 'you shall not have it! it is for grandmother.'
"'Only let me carry it to the door,' said Jacques, 'for fear you shoulddrop anything out of it; and when you come to the door, I will put itinto your own hands.'
"Jacques never said what was not true to Margot, and Margot knew it;she, therefore, was content to give the purse to him; and the threethen set off to run home as fast as they could.
"They supposed that no one had seen them when they were talking aboutthe purse, but they were mistaken; Father St. Goar was not far off,though hidden from them by a part of the rock which projected betweenthem.
"He heard Margot cry and talk of having found a net, and golden fish init; but when Meeta and Jacques came near to the child, he could hear nomore, because they spoke lower than before. He had heard enough,however; and when he went back to the village,
he told Heister Kampwhat he had seen, and made her more curious than himself to find outwhat it could be, though she felt pretty sure that it must be a purseof gold.
"How astonished was Monique when little Margot put the purse in herlap, for she was sitting at work just within the door.
"Meeta would not let Margot tell her own story, but raised her voice sohigh that Martin himself from one side, and Ella from another, came tosee what could have happened. They came in just in time to see Moniqueempty the purse, and count the golden pieces. There were as many asfifteen on the one side of the purse, and on the other was a ring witha precious stone in it, and four pieces of paper curiously stamped.Martin Stolberg saw at once that these pieces of paper were worth manytimes the value of the gold, for he or any man might have changed themfor ten pounds each.
"'Son,' said Monique, 'Margot found this near the waterfall; it musthave been lost by some of the visitors; it is a wonder that we haveheard of no one coming to look after it. What can we do with it?'
"'Buy a cow, father,' said Jacques.
"Martin Stolberg shook his head.
"'It is not ours, Jacques,' he said, 'though we have found it; we mustkeep it honestly for the owner, should he ever come to claim it.'
"'Father,' said Jacques, 'I was not thinking, or I hope I should nothave said those words.'
"'I know you spoke hastily, Jacques,' replied Martin; and then havinggiven Margot a few little pieces of copper money as reward for hergiving up the little net to her grandmother, he took his venerableparent by the hand, and led her into an inner room, where they settledwhat was to be done with the purse.
"Martin said that the children must all be seriously enjoined never tomention the subject, because many dishonest persons might, if theycould get at the description of the purse and its contents, comeforward to claim it, and thus it might be lost to the real owner.
"'But,' he added, 'lest I should be tempted to use any of the money formyself, I will take the purse down to-morrow to the pastor's, and leaveit in his care. Where it is, however, must not be known even to thechildren, lest we should bring inconvenience upon him. In the meantime,dear mother, do you stow the treasure safely away, and charge the youngones not to mention what we have found to anyone.'
"Martin then left the house; and Monique, going up to the room whereshe slept, and where the great family chest was kept, called all hergrandchildren, and letting them see where she put the purse, shecharged them, one and all, not to speak one word to any person out ofthe house about the treasure which had been found.
"'Why must not we, grandmother?' said Margot.
"'Because,' replied Monique, 'if any thieves were to hear that we hadgot so much money in the house, they might come some time when yourfather was out, and break open the chest and steal it.'
"'And perhaps they might kill us,' replied Margot, trembling all over.
"'We must not speak of it, then,' said Ella, 'to anyone.'
"'Our best way,' remarked Jacques, 'will be not to mention it to eachother. We will never speak of it.'
"'How can we help it?' said Meeta; 'I can never help talking of what Iam thinking about.'
"'That is a mistake of yours, Meeta,' said Monique; 'you never talk ofsome things which happened at Vienne, which you think would be nocredit to you.'
"'You mean about our being so very poor, and being forced to sell ourclothes, grandmother? I don't think that I should go to talk of that tostrangers.'
"'Then you can keep some things to yourself, Meeta,' said Monique; 'andwe shall not excuse you if you are so imprudent as to let out thisaffair of the treasure we have found to anyone.'
"'Don't fear me, grandmother,' returned Meeta; 'nobody shall hear fromme--but we must watch little Margot.'
"That same evening, Martin Stolberg carried the purse and all thecontents down to the house of the good pastor. He gave as his reasonfor so doing, that, being himself somewhat pressed for money, he didnot dare to trust himself with this treasure."
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