Alice Wilde. Metta Victoria Fuller Victor

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СКАЧАТЬ I came up to the house to seen if Captain Wilde had any orders for the mill to-night. I see him when he passed the creek. Who's with him, Pallas?"

      The old colored woman gave a sudden sharp glance at the youth's troubled face.

      "It's a frien' for all I know. What bisness is it of yours to be askin'?"

      "I s'pose I hain't no business. Do you think it's likely it's anybody as expects to marry Miss Alice?" his voice trembled, and he looked at his boots as he asked the question.

      "Marry Miss Alice! What a simpl'un you is, Ben. Wha's that pickaninny but a chile yet, I'se like to know? a little chit as don't know nothin' 'bout marryin' nobody. 'Sides that, long as her fadder libs, she'll never marry, not if it war a king. He'd be mad as fury ef any one was to dar' to speak of such a thing. Humf! my pickaninny, indeed!" with an air of scorn and indignation deeply felt by the youth, whose face was flushing beneath the implied rebuke. "Ef you'll stop a few minutes, I'll give yer some of dese soda biscuits," she said, after a brief silence, secretly pitying a trouble at which she had shrewdly guessed, though she resented the audacity of the hope from which it sprang. "Dat ar' man-cook what gets up the vittles for the mill-hands can't make sech biscuits as mine. Stop now, and hab some, won't yer?"

      "Thank ye, Pallas, I ain't hungry," was the melancholy reply—melancholy when proceeding from a hearty, hard-working young man, who ought to have been hungry at that hour of the day. He turned away, and without even going to the cabin-door to inquire of Mr. Wilde as he had proposed, struck into the pine-woods back of the garden-patch.

CHAPTER II.

       Table of Contents

      PALLAS AND SATURN.

      Supper was over, and David Wilde was cutting with his jack-knife the strings of several packages which had accompanied him on his trip back from Center City, where he had disposed of his raft. His guest sat upon a wooden settle, as much interested as the others in the proceedings, though his eyes were fixed mostly upon the happy girl, who, with all of her sex's love of finery, was upon her knees on the floor, assisting, with smiling eyes and eager fingers, at the pleasant task of bringing forth the contents of these packages. A dark-blue dress of the finest merino, a rich shawl, and some pretty laces for collars and ruffles rewarded her search. There was another package which was all her own, with which she was equally delighted; it was made up of a dozen of books, whose titles she eagerly read before she continued her explorations.

      "Here's a dress Mr. Moore picked out for you," said the raftsman, maliciously, unfolding a gorgeous red and yellow calico.

      "But I hadn't seen you, you know," returned Philip coloring.

      At this moment Pallas, who had an eye upon the bundles, came in on a pretence of clearing off the table.

      "Come and look at my beautiful presents, Pallas," cried her young mistress.

      "You've got little les'n an angel fer a fadder, my dear chile," ejaculated that personage, catching sight of the calico from the corner of her eye while admiring the merino.

      Alice looked up into the rough sun-burnt face of her father with a smile; the idea of his being an angel was not so ludicrous to her as it was to their guest.

      "Here's somethin' to help you along with yer sewing," continued David, taking a little box containing a gold thimble from his jacket-pocket. "See if it fits," and he placed it on the little fair hand.

      "It sets to your finger like a cup to an acorn," exclaimed Pallas. "Thar's none like masser to tell per-cisely what a person wants and is a wishin' fer," and again her covert glance sought the calico.

      "Sartainly, old girl; no doubt," chuckled the raftsman. "If that's the case, jist take them handkerchiefs and that dress-pattern and give 'em to Saturn. You can keep the vest and the tobacker and the boots yerself, and especially the trowsers—you've allers worn 'em!"

      "Laws, masser, ef I hadn't, things would a gone to rack and ruin long ago. Dat nigger of mine no use, but to sleep hisself to deaf. He's a great cross to me, Saturn is," and with a profusion of smiles and thanks she carried off her booty to the kitchen, graciously dispensing his share to her "ole man," and condescending to be unusually affable.

      "Ef we only had a camp-meetin' to go to now," she said, spreading out the new jacket and trowsers beside the calico. "It's four yeer, come nex' monf, since we went to dat meetin' down de riber. I declar' it's jes' like de heathen fer decent culled pussons not to have any place to holler Glory, and show der new clo'es."

      "I'd like to go to meetin' wid dese boots," remarked her spouse, looking down at the immense pair into which he had squeezed his feet.

      "Ef you did, all I can say is, dar' wouldn' be no room fer anybody else dar'," returned Pallas, giving way, by mere force of habit, to her custom of snubbing her companion.

      "Wha' fer?" inquired Saturn.

      "No matter, ef yer don't know. My! my!"—hopelessly—"what a fool you is!"

      "Dat's so, wife;" was the humble reply, "but," picking up courage at the sight of his new rig, "mebbe when I get my new jacket on, I'll know more."

      "You'd bettar put it on quick, den, and nebbar take it off."

      When her dishes were washed, Pallas took the calico in her lap and sat down.

      "I've a sense," she said, in a low voice, "dat things is goin' to happen."

      "Wha' fer?"

      "I haven't had such a sense fer years," she continued, too preoccupied to administer her customary rebuke. "And when I've a sense, it allers comes to suthin'—it never fails. I haven't had such feelin's since missus died. 'Pears to me dat young gentleum looks like missus' family. And it's de same name—curus, isn't it?"

      "Berry," replied Saturn, at random, lost in the study of his feet; "dem boots is beauties."

      "I dunno what masser brought him here fer, he's allers been so keerful. He tole me 'twas a pardner in de steam saw-mill dat takes his lumber off his han's; a young storekeeper in Center City now, though he use to be a lawyer in New York—bress it! it's a long time since I sot eyes on dat city now. Our fus' masser, Mortimer Moore, usin to invite no shop-keepers to his house. My! my! but he was a mighty proud man, and dat's what made all de trouble. Dem was grand times, wid all de serbents and de silber—never tought I cud come to dis—but I promised missus, when she died, I'd stan' by her chile, and I shall stand by her, long as der's any bref left in dis ole body—bress her! She's growing up jes' as han'some as ever her mudder was, and she's got her ways; and as for manners—hi! hi! folks might larf at the idea of ole Pallas learnin' manners to her missus, but dar ain't nobody knows better how table ought to be set and sarbed, and things to be done, than my dear chile now, dis minit. Ef masser will keep her, like de children of Israel, forty years in de wilderness, she shall be a lady for all dat, bress her, and a Christian lady, too! She knows all de bes' part of de psalms by heart, now; and she can sing hymns like a cherubim. Sometimes I mos' think she's got one of dem golden harps in her hand. If dat ole fool ain't asleep. Saturn!" kicking his shins, "wake up yer, and go to bed—immejetly!"

      Saturn had a discouraging time getting his new boots off in the sleepy state which had come upon him; but this being at last accomplished, СКАЧАТЬ