The Silver Bottle; or, The Adventures of Little Marlboro in Search of His Father

by J. H. Ingraham

  `I will show you the room, madam,' said Dame Darwell, preparing to precede the gentleman and lady; but the lady lingered until her traveling basket was taken out by the black man, who now, that Dick had been waked up by the carriage, and had taken the horses' heads, was at liberty to follow them; which he did, with the basket, carrying it very carefully. Dame Darwell observed that the lady kept turning back as they walked through the long passage and watching it with great anxiety, speaking more than once to the man to be careful, until the gentleman spoke sharply in a low tone to her, when she was silent. The room was on the same floor with the tap, but at some distance, quite at the end of the house; one window opening into the garden and two facing the turnpike, but covered with woodbine and honey suckle in full flower. The chamber was spacious and neat in its arrangements, with white coverlid, white bed hangings, white window curtains, and neat strips of carpet laid upon the snow-white floor before the bed, and the little looking-glass stand. All was neat as wax, and yet comfortable and home-like. Two old fashioned stuffed arm chairs covered with needle-work invited the weary traveler to repose his limbs, and antiquated rocking-chairs, with cushions of rich embroidery, stood on each side of the tiled fire-place, which was now filled with branches of asparagus placed in a china flower-pot.

  Dame Darwell having opened the door in this neat apartment, which she used to call the `Court Chamber,' because the Judges always occupied it, she curtesied and asked them when when they would have tea.

  `I will let you know in a few minutes, Madam,' said the gentleman: and the hostess taking this for a polite intimation that they desired to be left alone, she curtesied, smiled, and retired to the tap room, followed by the black man who had left the basket.

  `You have driven fast, Mr. Coachman,' said Dame Darwell as she reached the porch, turning and addressing the black.

  `Yes, marm! Massa al'ays luv drive 'im fas',' answered the negro, touching his hat and passing out of the door to his horses.

  `Come from Providence?'

  `No marm, New York!' answered the black. `Now, if you please, sar,' he continued addressing the hostler, `lead dese horses to de stable and leave the carriage here; when I on-strap dis trunk and carry im in to massa, I go help you take car' ob im!'

  `Your master is going to Boston, I suppose,' said Dame Darwell, after the horses had been taken out and led away.

  `I don't kno', marm. Master nebber tell niggar whar he go; only he say, dar de road! and niggar drive 'long de road what afore him face, and dat all he kno' 'bout whar massa go to!'

  Dame Darwell says she looked very closely into the negro's face on receiving this reply, with the suspicion that the fellow knew more than he would tell. But when he saw she was observing him, he turned his face away and went very busily engaging himself in unlashing the trunk from behind the barouche. At this moment the gentleman made his appearance. Dame Darwell said he was a tall man, with a fine hazel eye, chesnut colored hair, a fine smile and white teeth. `He was as perfect a gentleman to look at as I ever wish to see.' Dame Darwell never failed to add, when she came to this part of the recital. I will now continue it in her own words:

  `He comed to me as I was looking at the wooly negro man, and as he had no cloak on now, I saw he wore a black satin vest, and taking out of a little fob in the breast of it the handsomest gold watch I ever see, he said, perlite and civil, as one could wish to have a gentleman,

  `Madam, it is now a little past four! We will have tea at five, if you will take the trouble to order it!'

  `Certainly, sir: it ie no trouble in the world! You can have it earlier if you choose,' said I.

  `That hour will answer, especially as I have concluded that I will ride on instead of stopping for the night as I intended.

  I said at onct, not a little alarmed,

  `Don't my rooms and the accommodations suit you and your lady, sir!' Perhaps I spoke a little quick, for he looked as if he saw that I did.

  `No apartments could be pleasanter; and I assure you we are the losers to leave such pleasant accommdation for others which are uncertain. If any thing could urge us to remain it would be the temptations held out by your agreeable house. The night is cool and I wish to take advantage of it to pursue my journey.'

  I was perfectly satisfied at this explanation, though I felt sorry not to keep them till next day; for I had somehow taken up a strange curiosity about 'em, I wanted to gratify; and besides they looked like such nice people I wanted to have them in my house. And what was more I hadn't seen the face of the lady yet; for she kept it closely veiled all the time going through the passage. I only heard her voice speaking to the black coachman about carrying the basket, and it was such a sweet one, I was on a tenter to get a sight of her face. It was pitiful to see her in deep mourning, and doubtless, I thought to myself, she is in great sorrow. Perhaps she has lost her only child; and when I thought of that I felt tears coming into my eyes; for though I hant any little blessings myself, I could sympathise with mother's as had 'em and lost 'em. Well, to the gentleman! When I told him I was sorry he could not stay, he said I could not regret it more than he did; and then after a minute he asked me if I had any fresh milk. I told him that I had morning's milk, but that if he wished I would have one of the critters milked. He said morning's milk would do if it was sweet; and asked me if I wouldn't boil a little and let him take it to his lady.

  `A glass of good fresh milk would do your lady more good, or if you will wait five minutes, I will get her a cup of nice green tea,' says I.

  `No, you are very kind. Boiled milk would be preferred! Please have it prepared and I will wait for it and take it in.'

  `Oh, sir, I would rather take it to the lady myself. I can't bear you should carry it to her!'

  `She prefers I should wait upon her,' he said smiling; I could not help noticing that though he smiled often when he spoke, yet he always smiled sadly; and when he said any thing to me, he seemed to be thinking of something on his mind.

  Well, as some ladies love to have their husband's wait on 'em, especially young brides, I wasn't surprised, and went and got the milk boiled, wondering too, why a lady should prefer boiled mornings milk to fresh new milk right from the cow, or a good nice cup of Hyson, with loaf sugar and golden cream. But you'll see the reason by and bye; and then you wont wonder no more than I did afterwards!

  I got the milk and brought it to him in the tap where he stood waiting for it with a newspaper in his hand which he had been reading.

  `I had better take it, sir,' I said.

  `No, I prefer to carry it. Have you some white sugar?' he asked.

  I gave it to him, putting the milk on a small waiter in a pitcher, with a tumbler and the sugar bowl and a tea-spoon. Well, he took it and thanked me, and carried it to her, while I went to see about their tea. I had it ready at five o'clock, the table nicely set for two in the little back parlor, and every thing delicious on it. I was then going to the room door to call 'em, when he came in and said,

  `You have,' says he `every thing very nice here. Mrs. Hostess, and I regret the lady (`he always said the lady, not my lady!' added Dame Darwell) cannot come out to the table! I will take in a cup of tea and a little toast on a waiter to her.'

  I was sorry she couldn't come out, because when I get a table nicely fixed, I love to have people set down to it and enjoy it. But the poor lady it seemed must be ill, and so I cheerfully put on a waiter a little of every thing nice, and poured out a cup of tea with cream and sugar; and then I said I would take it to her.

  `No, you are very kind, madam,' (he always said `madam' so perlite and foreign-like), says he; `I will take it to her myself and urge her to eat something. '

  `Is your lady ill, sir?' I asked him.

  `Fatigued, and a little indisposed,' he said. `As we start again so soon she wishes to take all the rest she can.'

  `This was all very reasonable,' continued Dame Darwell; `and so he took the waiter to her, though it did look strange to see such a nice dressed gentleman carrying in a wa
iter. But then when I thought how it was for his sick wife it didn't appear so strange to me as it did kind in him. In a minute or two he came back and sat down, but first politely asked me to take the head of the table. So I sat down and poured out his tea for him. He ate a little while in silence, and then began asking me a great many questions about myself; how long I had been keeping the Inn; how long I had been a widow; if I had any children? and he asked them so very civil-like that I couldn't help answering them all, 'till he knew as much about me as I did about myself. He then said he thought I must be a very happy woman, `inasmuch as Providence had blessed me with a competence and a kind heart.'

  `Perhaps, sir,' said I laughing, `if you should hear me scold in the kitchen and at the stable boys some days when we are pretty busy, you wouldn't think I had a very sweet temper.'

  He laughed, but sadly as he always did, and said, `I am quite satisfied that you are kind and good! It is a pity that such excellent qualities as you seem to possess, should not have been bestowed upon one who, as a mother, could exercise them to the happiness of her children!'

  When he said this in these very words, I felt as if I could shed tears. He had touched my heart where it was the tenderest. He saw I was affected and said,

  `Your regrets are that you are not a mother, I perceive. But Providence may yet realise your wishes, at least in a degree!'

  I don't know whether I blushed or not, but I felt my face glow, he was so plain spoken: but I said, trying to laugh,

  `I shall never marry again, sir! I love the memory of my poor George too well ever to give the hand that he once loved to another!'

  `Perhaps so; I doubt it not madam,' he said, taking a spoonful of my white honey to eat with his fresh bread; `but Providence sometimes affords the good and benevolent objects of affection by means that are unforeseen!'

  I looked at him very hard: for I had no idea what he meant, and could not understand him. He saw my looks and then said,

  `I mean, madam, in this way. A good wife once who desired offspring in vain, found one morning at her door, a babe in an open box. She could find no parents to claim it and adopted it for her own, and became a mother to it; and doubtless she loved it as if it had been her own!'

  `I have not the least doubt she did,' I said warmly. `I am sure, if it had been a pretty baby and a boy too, I should have loved the little dear as if it was my own flesh and blood!'

  When I said this he looked at me very earnestly, and then seemed gratified. He soon finished his supper, for he talked more than he ate, and didn't seem to have any appetite, though he praised every thing. In a little while he got up and after saying he should like to have his servant provided for, he went to the lady's room. Well, I didn't see either of them again until about dusk when he came into the tap. He was looking very pale and very grave. He called for his bill and settled it, giving me a gold piece, and I gave me the change in silver. I then asked him when he would have his horses; and he said as the moon rose soon after sunset, he would thank me to have them harnessed as soon as it rose. He then spoke to his servant to see that they were at the door at that time, and then went back again to the lady's room. I tried to get something out of the negro about his master and mistress; but he didn't seem to know anything. I don't believe he knew his right hand from his left; yet he was the perlitest nigger I ever saw afore or since. Well, the moon rose, and the horses were put in, the negro went for the travelling basket and placed it in the carriage, and the gentleman and lady, the latter after delaying a good deal and three times going back for something, came out, she leaning heavily on his arm, and weeping: for I distinctly heard her stifled sobs. She still wore her veil, and I tried to see her face, holding a candle in my hand purposely; and as good fortune would favor me, her veil caught the door catch as she was passing out and was drawn aside! It left exposed a sweet, lovely face, pale and tearful, and that of a person not more than two and twenty. The next moment she was seated in the carriage. The gentleman got in by her side the black man shut the door and mounted to his box, and the horses dashed off at full speed along the turnpike in the direction of Boston.

  CHAPTER III.

  How Dame Darwell and her relations discuss the strangers—Aunt Keezy gives her opinion—Charitable stockings for the Flat Foot Indians—The beggar woman and Dame Darwell's lesson to her Aunt and Couzin—The true charity of Dame Darwell contrasted with the false charity of the others—The alarm.

  When good Dame Darwell got to that part of her story with which we have closed the last chapter, she was accustomed to clasp both of her hands together, lift her eyes towards the heavens and shake her head several times very mysteriously; and then say to her auditors,

  `What I have told you is nothing, nothing to what is now coming. The carriage drove off, as I said, but I could see by the light of the moon that the lady leaned out and looked back towards the Inn till she was out of sight. Poor lady! I did not then know what she was looking back for. Well, I went into the house, and just as I did so couzin Mariah and aunt Keezy got home from the sewing circle, and we all sot down in the porch together because it was a pleasant moonshiny evening, and when they begun to tell me about the sewing circle, I stopped 'em by beginning to talk about the handsome gentleman in black and the beautiful lady in mourning; and how she wept.

  `I expect,' says aunt Keezy, `she's just lost her father and goin' home from the funeral.'

  `Perhaps her husband treats her bad,' says couzin Mariah; `I shouldn't wonder, 'specially as he wouldn't let no body wait on her but himself.'

  `He waited on her coz she preferred it,' said I something quick; for couzin Mariah, because she was an old maid, was always making a slur at husband's, and I always stand up for 'em for dear George's sake.'

  `It's very mysterious they should propose to stay all night and then go away at dark,' says aunt Keezy shaking her head. `Did you find out their names?'

  `No,' said I, `but I saw on the brass plate on the trunk three letters, F. R. M.'

  Aunt Keezy repeated the letters over and over, and so did couzin Mariah, but they nor I could make nothing of them. Well, we than began to talk about the sewing circle. Aunt Keezy said she had in all made two shirts, a gown, and hemmed four cotton pocket handkerchiefs to clothe the nakedness of the little Sandwich Islanders with; while couzin Mariah said she had made three waistcoats, three children's frocks, and knit six pairs of garters since spring for the Flat-Foot Indians. Both then began to talk of the virtue of charity and benevolence, and couzin Mariah particularly said how immodest it was to let the heathen go stark naked, and if she could she'd have 'em all put into trowsers rite off. She had such pity for 'em. While we were setting talking in this manner and they were unrolling and displaying what they had made, a poor woman and three children came along the pike and stopped at the door. The woman, it could be seen by the moonlight, was in rags, and her old gown was slit so that the bare knee was visible; while the two little girls and boy were half naked, one of them only able to keep her tatters upon her by holding them up with her hands. The poor woman, who was Irish, said that she was from New York where her husband had died, and was going to Boston where she had a brother; and that she begged her way, for she hadn't seen the color of a penny since many a weary week. I al'ays suspected aunt Keezy's and couzin Mariah's charities were like the Pharisee's prayers, to be seen of men, so I didn't say any thing but waited to see what would come to pass.

  `Its a plizzint evenin' ye are enjoyin' in the door leddies, and God bliss ye and long kape the roof o'er yer heds,' sez she; `for its long since the roof has been over me and mine! I bliss God ye have the home and the nice cloathin', and no doubt plenty food to yer hunger. It's me and mine is starvin' and is naked! God gives the sparrows feathers, but to clothe his childer he puts sweet charity into the hearts of the rich. Is it a shelter and a bit of bread ye'll give me for my babes, good leddies?'

  The words and appeal were so pathetic I could not help the tears coming into my eyes; but I hardened my heart a little minu
te or two till I should see what my couzin and aunt Keezy would do; for I knew what I would do! So I got up and went into the tap as if for something.

  `This is a tavern,' said aunt Keezy sharply; `and no one need expect to be entertained here without pay.'

  `Yes; go to some of the farmer's houses, if you want help,' said couzin Mariah. `I am really shocked to see you go about so, woman, with your bare knee sticking out so! How immodest! Why do you not sew it up?'

  `Its niver a stitch 'll stay, but the first step I take tares it out, the cloth is so rotten. I am modest, leddies, if I am poor! If you could give me an old bit dress, or—'

  `We have nothing here for you, so tramp with your brats,' said aunt Keezy sharply.

  `You'll find lodging among your own class somewhere up the pike.'

  I now came out. `Poor woman,' says I, `you seem very destitute. Have vou no other garments than those rags for yourself and your children?'

  `None, marm, so help me the swate virgin.'

  `They are not sufficient for decency.'

  `That is what I have been telling her,' said couzin Mariah with warmth. `Indeed, woman, I am shocked you should be seen so. You can't be a fit object of charity to have so little modesty. That little boy too! Fie! You ought certainly to be ashamed to bring such objects before decent people.' And couzin Mariah covered her eyes to keep from seeing such shocking depravity.

  I was now roused. I am never angry except at such things as this. So I said, but very quietly so that she need not suspect,

  `How many gowns did you make at the sewing circle for the Sandwich Islander's, couzin?'

  `I made three child's frocks, three waistcoats and knit six pair of garters, they are all to be sent out in the first ship.'

  `And how many things did you make, aunt?' sez I.

  `Two shirts, a gown, and hemmed four pocket handkerchiefs.'

  `Let me see them,' said I in the same quiet way, as if I wasn't thinking at all about the poor woman and her children who stood so pitifully outside the door. So they handed them to me without any suspicion, thinking I was going to admire their work and praise their industry; for the idea of any really charitable destination of their articles never once entered their narrow and selfish minds. I unrolled the gown and the three frocks, and to my delight I saw that the frocks were just the children's sizes and that the dress would be just the thing for the mother.