Narcissa, or the Road to Rome; In Verona
Page 10
mind to, Miss Bute, andI won't say nothin'; but you ain't no call to abuse Bijah."
"Oh, I ain't, ain't I?" cried Miss Resigned Elizabeth, taking fire inher turn. "I'm to be shet up in my own house, am I, by a girl fromNorth Beulah? I'm to have such actions goin' on under my nose, andnever so much as wink at 'em, am I? I should like to know! You go toyour room this minute, Betsy Garlick, and stay there till I tell youto come out, or you'll find out p'raps more than you like. NorthBeulah! Well, of all impudence!"
Betsy fled to her room, and the angry woman followed and turned thekey upon her. Then, returning to her sitting-room, Miss ResignedElizabeth sat down and made out her line of action in this domesticcrisis. She sat for some time, her head shaking with indignation overthe iniquities of this generation; then she went to the writing-desk,so seldom used, and, with stiff, trembling fingers, wrote two notes.One of the notes was posted, being intrusted to the care of thetravelling baker, who went jingling by just in the nick of time; theother was thrust in at Miss Duty's door by a withered hand, which heldit unflinchingly till Miss Duty came and took it, wondering greatly,but not opening the door an inch wider to catch a glimpse of hersister's face,--the face she had not looked into for ten years.
When the hand was withdrawn, Miss Duty proceeded to decipher the note,her gray hair bristling with indignation as she did so.
SISTER DUTY,--Your help has been courting my hired girl, and I don't suppose you want any such doings, any more than I do. I have shet the girl up in her room till he is gone, and sent for her stepmother. So no more from your sister.
R. E. BUTE.
Who shall paint Miss Duty's wrath? It was more violent than hersister's, for she was of sterner mould; and it was really a fierywhirlwind that greeted the delinquent Bijah when he came whistling infrom the barn, cheerfully smiling and at peace with all the world. Butthe boy who faced Miss Duty in her fury was a very different personfrom the meek, submissive youth whom she had learned to know andtyrannize over as Bije Green.
This Bije met her torrent of angry words with head held high, andsmiling countenance. Ashamed? No, he wasn't ashamed, not the leastmite in the world. Pick up his duds and go? Why, of course hewould--just as easy! Should he wait to split the kindling-wood andbring in the water? Just as she said; it didn't make a mite o'difference to him. Go right off, this minute of time? Ruther go thaneat, any time. One week's pay--thank her kindly, much obliged. The cowwas fed, and he cal'c'lated she'd find everything pretty slick in thebarn. Real pleasant night for a walk--good evenin'!
The consequence of which was--what? Certainly not what Miss Duty hadexpected, or Miss Resigned, either.
At daybreak next morning, when the gray heads of these indignantvirgins were still lying on their pillows, taking an interval of peacewith all the world, Bijah was under Betsy's window, like a flame offire. Betsy was not asleep. Oh, no! She was crying, poor little soul,at thought of going back to her stepmother, one of the old-fashionedkind, and never seeing Bije again. For she would never see him, ofcourse. Hark! Was that a pebble thrown against the glass? A peepthrough the green blinds, up went the little window, softly, softly,and the dearest girl in the world leaned out, showing her sweettear-stained face in the faint gray light,--a sight which made Bijemore fiery than ever. Softly she bade him begone, for she dared notspeak to him. How did he know Miss Bute wasn't looking at him thisminute, out of her window?
It appeared that Bije did not care if twenty Miss Butes were lookingat him, though one was enough to frighten the crows. Betsy was to puton her bunnit that minute, and come along with him. Door locked? Whatdid that matter, he should like to know? He should laugh if she was tobe kept shet up there like a mouse in a trap. Send her home to herstepmother? He'd like to see them try it, that was all. Never mind thethings! Come right along! She'd ben cryin'! He'd like to get hold ofthem as made her cry. There'd be _some_ cryin' round, but it wouldn'tbe hers. Come! Why didn't Betsy come? They'd take the cows out topasture this once more,--he didn't want the dumb critters to suffer,and 't wasn't likely the old cats could get any help beforenight,--and then they'd go. Go where? Now Betsy knew that well enough.To Friar Laurence, of course (Bije called him parson instead of friar,and he spelled his name with a _w_ instead of a _u_, but these aremere trifles of detail), to get married. Where else should they go?Wasn't she his Betsy, his own girl? Did she think she was goin' tostay there and be hectored, while he was round? Parson Lawrence was tohome, Bije saw him only last night. Now could she climb down thatgrape-vine? He reckoned she could, and he'd be standin' ready to catchher if her foot should slip.
"Oh, Bije! you take my breath away, you're so dretful speedy. Why, Ican't--no way in the world. What--where should I go then, if--if wedid--do what you say? Not that I can--with no clo'es but what I've goton. The idea!"
"Go? go home, of course, to mother's. Won't she be glad to see ye?Won't Delilah half eat ye up, she'll be so pleased? That's all youknow, Betsy. And the help you'll be, and me too! Mother was dretfulonreconciled to my goin' away, but I felt to go and see something ofthe world. And now I've seen all I want to, and I'm good and ready togo home, Betsy; but not alone."
How silver-sweet, indeed, sound lovers' tongues by night! But nosweeter than now in the early morning, when all the world was as youngand fresh as Betsy, and as full of love and tenderness. In truth, itwas the hour for a bridal. The air was full of bridal-veils: floatingwreaths of silver fog that hung soft on the trees, and shimmeredagainst the hill-sides, and here and there began to soften into goldenand rosy tints as the light strengthened. They were all over thegrass, too, these bridal-tokens, in tiny webs of purest spun-silver,diamond-set. A carpet of pearls was spread for Betsy's little feet,and she would never cry out, as slug-a-bed maidens do, if the pearlsand diamonds wetted her shoes. Is the bride ready?
"Red as a rose is she. Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy."
Hark to them now! They are tuning their instruments in every branch ofthe elm-tree, cheep, twitter, trill; and now they burst out in atriumphal chorus of song:--
"O Hymen, Hymenaee!"
and Betsy needs neither Mendelssohn nor Wagner to tell her what awedding-march is. In very sooth, are there no young people besideBetsy and Bijah who know enough to be married in the early morning,and begin their first day together?
For Betsy can hold out no longer. She retires to put on the pinkcalico gown, because Bije will not hear of her being married in anyother. It is a pity that she will put on her best hat, instead of thepretty sunbonnet; but one cannot expect a girl to be married in a"slat." She ties up her little bundle with trembling hands, while hercheeks glow and her heart beats so that she fancies Miss Bute musthear it in the room below.
Now she peeps out again, but shrinks back, afraid of the fire in thebrown boy's eyes, and the passion of his outstretched arms. O Romeo!Romeo! But the whisper, "Betsy, _my_ Betsy!" brings her out again,with a little proud, tearful smile. Yes, she is his Betsy. He is goodand true; he will take care of her. She would trust all the world toBijah.
Carefully now! The trellis is strong. (Had not Bijah tested it in thenight, when she was sobbing in her sleep, to see that all was safe forher?) One foot on this round--so! Now down, slowly, carefully; takecare of this step, for it is a weak one! Drop the bundle--there! Safeat last! At last! "All the world and we two," nothing else beside. AsBetsy's foot touches the ground, up comes the sun to look at her. Along shaft of golden light touches her fair head, and lies like abenediction on her brow. The boy gazes at her, and sees no other sun.Ah, Juliet! if the measure of thy joy be heap'd like mine, and thatthy skill be more to blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath thisneighbor air, and let rich music's tongue unfold the imagin'dhappiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter. Callsoftly, though, softly, so as not to wake the old ladies: "Co'boss!Co'boss!" Push the mossy gate, and let the good, silent creatures out,the confidants of our love these many weeks. Come, sweet Capulet!Come, Betsy, and let us drive the cows to pasture!
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Great was the wrath in the virgin bosoms of the Misses Bute when theflight of Betsy and her dark-eyed lover was discovered. Miss Dutyrelieved her feelings by a furious bout of house-cleaning, andscrubbed and scoured as if she were determined to purge the house fromthe very memory of Bijah Green. But Miss Resigned Elizabeth had atouch of rheumatism, and could not take refuge in that solace ofwomankind. She could only sit and fret, poor soul, and wish she hadsome one to talk it over with. Dear to goodness! Come times like this,one did feel forsaken. Miss Resigned Elizabeth almost felt that shecould make up with her sister, for