CHAPTER XXXIV.
"With wild surprise
As if to marble struck devoid of sense,
A stupid moment motionless she stood." Thomson.
Nice, France, Tuesday, December 10th, 1850.
Dear Mother,—After a long, but not tedious voyage, the good ship "Unicorn," bore us gallantly into the port of Havre, where we arrived on the twenty-eighth of November.
I could almost see my dear husband gain in flesh and strength, so rapidly did he improve. He walks about now as erect and strong as ever. We tarried but two days in Havre, and then proceeded to this place, where we are comfortably established for the winter. That is, we shall be, when we can get our trunks unpacked.
I don't know but I shall regret not having taken mother Lenox's advice to bring Ann instead of Ruth. The poor girl appears almost demented, as she cannot understand a word of the language; and whenever I send her to the kitchen to bring water, or anything from thence, I hear a perfect roar of laughter from the servants at her droll talk and signs. She generally comes back empty handed as she went, rolling her white eyes from side to side, while she sometimes laughs, and sometimes cries at her "poor luck," as she calls it. To-day she came to me in great indignation, saying, "I 'clare, missus, 'pears like I'se couldn't bring down my idees to make dem doe heads 'stand anything I'se seb. I'se tink dey find dis chile has been brought up in de way to teach dem manners."
The weather is perfectly delightful. I only wish all the dear ones I love were here to enjoy it with us. It is quite fortunate for me that I have no household cares, for I have a double portion of journalizing. I promised to write mother Lenox, in the same full, free manner, as I have always written to you. And as the same journal will be passed from mother to Emily, and from Emily to Lucy, and from Lucy to somebody else, I must be especially careful of my style, while in writing to you I merely let my pen travel on at its utmost speed, and with our own poet,
"I feel a certain tingling come
Down to my fingers, and my thumb."
Perhaps you can imagine, but I cannot describe to you, the thrill of delight which I felt when I first stepped upon terra firma in Havre; and remembered that though still far from home, and the grave of my dear father; yet I was in the same hemisphere with yourself and my beloved sisters.
No ocean rolled between us.
I was quite amused at a discussion, I overheard between Nelly and Frank, just before I commenced writing. Nelly was earnestly talking of the pleasure she anticipated in going to England, and wishing the time were already come. In both expectation and regret, she was cordially joined by her brother. She then proceeded to give Frank a particular account of aunt Nelly which could hardly be from memory; and ended by saying, "I am the most related to her of any of the family."
This, Frank stoutly denied, saying, "She is as much my aunt as yours." After quite a warm discussion of this interesting point, the disputants agreed to leave it to Ruth, who, after carefully weighing the subject, said in a very gracious tone to Frank, "I 'spects, she is, Mass'r Frank. But then 'pears like its you that's the nearest to mass'r, 'cause your name be like his." I hope Mrs. Colonel Morton will not be unduly elated at the honor to which Nelly aspires.
Saturday, December 14th.
With the Doctor's efficient aid, we are now reduced to order; and can find a dress or apron without strewing the floor with the contents of three or four trunks. The same hands have driven up an innumerable number of nails for clothes, of which Ruth and I have made extempore closets by sewing rings to a sheet, and hanging them in front, so that we have only to put aside our curtain, and we are in the inclosure, while coats, dresses, and other clothes are free from dust. Master Franky has a trunk devoted to him for his toys, and so far thinks it much more convenient than his drawers and lockers at home. Another trunk has been assigned to books, slates and apparatus. School commenced in earnest to-day.
The Doctor has sent for a piano, that the children may not lose their practice. He also intends Pauline to take lessons on the harp. I am not, as you know, a proficient upon that instrument.
I have added to my family a little French girl, daughter of one of the peasants, who was very willing to leave her parents for a time, to come to us. Ruth is a very good sempstress; and I find enough of that employment for her, and in following "mass'r Franky" in his walks of discovery about the town.
My husband chose this location from the fact of its being so healthy; and because there is a Protestant church here. Nice is a great resort for invalids. There are quite a number of families here at present. One lady, with her husband, child and servant occupy rooms above ours. Frank intends calling with me on the aged pastor, whom we have not seen except at church. Our landlord speaks of him with the greatest enthusiasm and affection; and ascribes the peace and prosperity of the place mainly to his influence, and untiring efforts for the good of his people.
Friday, December 20th.
There is very little variety in our life, and I fear, I shall not be able to relate much that will interest you. I give six hours a day to the children, while Pauline recites in mathematics and Italian to her father. I wish, dear mother, you could see our Pauline again. She reminds me of an author, who describing a young lady, says, "she is near that age, sixteen, at which every day brings with it some new beauty to her form." No one can be more modest, nor, (which seems wonderful in a woman,) more silent; yet when she speaks you might believe a muse was speaking. But then her face,
"So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart."
She is silent only when strangers are present. In the company of those she loves, she is all animation, and merriment. Her father says it is a perfect delight to teach her. The remainder of the school hours Frank devotes to reading, which is a real luxury to him, reserving his walks until we can accompany him.
The Doctor and myself called last evening upon Mr. Percival, whose gray locks, and venerable aspect had already inspired us with respect. He received us with the kindness of a father, and related many incidents connected with his flock which were very pleasing. He has established two schools, one for infant scholars, and another for those more advanced. The infant scholars, however, are many of them near a dozen years of age. He accompanied us part of the way on our return to visit an English gentleman, who is very sick and has come here to die. "Perhaps," said the old gentleman, "at some future time, I may communicate some facts relative to his history. His life has been one of no common interest."
We parted from our companion with regret, having obtained from him a promise to return our call at his earliest convenience.
Monday, December 23d.
This morning an incident occurred, which for want of other excitement, has given us a fruitful subject for conversation. Having observed a retired spot not far distant from the house where the invalid of whom I spoke was stopping, we turned our steps toward it, and found it to be a family burying place containing five graves, upon one of which was a beautifully white marble monument, inscribed with the simple word "Imogen." We stood a while to weave each for ourselves a history of this loved one, whose grave was of the usual size of a fully grown woman. Perhaps she was an only daughter, or a young wife, whose early departure had cast a gloom over a large family.
Pauline and Nelly who started with us had lingered on the way, and came in sight just as we turned to leave the place. Meeting our good friend, Mr. Percival, we walked on slowly together, leaving them to visit the simple grave. It was nearly an hour before they returned. The Doctor and I were enjoying a delightful conversation with our aged friend, who had accompanied us home, when Nelly came bounding into the room, saying, in an excited tone, "oh, mamma!" But seeing we were not alone she checked herself, and was introduced together with Pauline to our visitor. I gazed at Pauline with wonder. Her whole countenance was lighted with animation. Her eyes sparkled, and there was the richest bloom upon her cheeks. I saw at a glance that something unusual had occurred, and said inquiringly, "Well, my daughters, have you had a pleasant walk?"
"Very," they replied, and retired from the room.
Our visitor had no sooner taken his departure than they came running in, eager to communicate their adventure.
"Oh, mamma!" exclaimed Nelly, throwing herself into a chair, "Pauline has had such a scene."
"Yes, mamma," said Pauline, "I never expected to create such a sensation as I did soon after you left. I went to the cemetery with Nelly, and after walking around had thrown myself down before the monument marked 'Imogen.' I was imagining my own feelings, had the interred been my mother, and thinking if such were the case, how I should love to visit her grave, and plant flowers around it, when I looked up to meet the glance of a young man who was tenderly assisting an old gentleman toward the very spot where I knelt, while in one hand he carried a portable seat. A single glance sufficed to assure me that they were mourners for some beloved friend lying there; and I sprang up hastily and apologized for my intrusion. The old gentleman had not appeared to observe me until I spoke; but then he started back as if he had seen a ghost, and would have fallen to the ground had not his companion hastily thrown down the stool, and caught him in his arms. I opened it, and stepping behind them motioned the younger one that it would be better to let him be seated. He put his hand feebly to his head, saying audibly, 'Oh, my God! support me under this.' Then turning to his son, he said, 'Did you see her, Eugene?'
"'Who, father?'
"'Why oh! I forgot myself. Let us return; I can't stay here. Perhaps she'll come back.'
"'Dear father, your eyes have deceived you. It was only a young lady who happened to be reading the epitaph upon the tomb stone;' and he turned to look again at me.
"I had lost all power of motion, and was so drawn toward father and son, that I had not thought of moving.
"'You have been so very anxious,' continued the young man, 'to come here once more, and the air is so balmy to-day, I fear you will not have so favorable an opportunity again.'
"A deep sigh was the only reply; and the son took a pocket-handkerchief, and tenderly wiped his father's forehead, as he leaned against his breast. 'Perhaps,' said he, addressing me in French,' you will come around in front of the grave. My father is much agitated at your sudden appearance.'
"I replied, in English, that I was very sorry for what had happened; and regretted that I had been led by curiosity to intrude upon their retirement.
"'No apology is necessary,' he replied.
"'To whom are you talking, Eugene?' asked the invalid in a very feeble voice.
"'To the lady, you saw, father,' and he made a motion with his hand for me to stand where he could see me.
"I did so, but no sooner did the old gentleman perceive me, than he started forward holding out both his hands as if to embrace me; and then with a dreadful groan fell back into the arms of his son.
"'Oh! what can I do for you?' I asked in affright.
"'Fly,' said he, 'to that house,' pointing to the nearest one, 'and call for help. Stay,' he continued quickly, 'if you could hold him, I could go quicker.'
"'Nelly,' I exclaimed, as she came running toward me, after wandering all over the enclosure, 'Run as quick as you can to that house, and tell the servants their master has fainted by the grave, and they must come directly.' I knew Nelly's skill in running would serve a good purpose on this occasion. I gave Eugene, as his father called him, my salts, and kneeling down vigorously rubbed the cold hands in mine.
"'I cannot account for it,' said he, 'why my father is so much agitated at the sight of you; but as he is so perhaps it will be as well for you to stand aside when he recovers his consciousness.'
"In a very short time, Nelly returned in company with a man and woman. The man brought a chair with pillows in it, and in this they speedily placed the unconscious invalid, and carried him away. Eugene merely said, 'I shall see you again,' as he left."
My dear mother, you who are acquainted with Pauline's history may judge in some slight degree of our feelings upon hearing of this adventure. I glanced at Frank, who turned very pale, but said nothing. Pauline got up with considerable excitement in her tone, and manner, and stood before a small mirror which hung in the room, saying, "I cannot conceive for whom the old gentleman could have taken me. I'm sure I don't see as I look like anybody but father." She has often been told of her close resemblance to him.
After she had left the room, Frank and I talked over the singularity of the event; but concluded that we were not called upon to make any inquiries with regard to the old gentleman's agitation, as he is an Englishman, and Pauline was, without doubt, a native of France. He is doubtless the one to whom Mr. Percival alluded in our first interview.
Tuesday, December 24th.
Last night after Pauline's adventure I was so very nervous and excited that I could not sleep. I imagined the most improbable events, until I felt a perfect horror from the possibility that Pauline might be related to these people. I awoke Frank to ask him if he had brought the packet we received with her.
He replied that he had, but thought it was altogether probable we should carry it back as wise as we came. I told him I had not slept, and he quite laughed at me for making so much of a mere accident. He said that my imagination was always running away with me. I tried to think so myself and was soon asleep.
To-day Mr. Percival came in to invite us to attend service in the chapel to-morrow, (Christmas,) and having sent the children out for a walk, the Doctor asked him the name of the English gentleman who was so ill.
"Clifford," he replied, hesitating a moment. "Henry Clifford. He is, or was a colonel in the English army." I saw Frank give a sudden start, and then checked himself and went on with the conversation.
Mr. Percival hinted that domestic trials had brought on premature old age; that after having been for many years separated from his wife, he had come here to die by her grave. "Is it the one marked 'Imogen?'" I inquired.
"Yes, and the house you see from the spot is where she was born. The estate now belongs to her son."
"Was he an only child?" I asked, almost gasping in my eagerness for a reply.
"There was an infant who died about the same time as its mother."
"What was the cause of their separation?" asked Frank.
"I never understood sufficiently to relate," he replied in rather a reserved tone; and feeling entirely relieved from my great burden, I cared not to hear more. When Pauline returned, I somewhat astonished the dear child by the vehemence of my embrace. But recollecting myself, I pressed Miss Ellen also in my arms, that she might not suspect any particular emotion.
"What has happened, mamma?" said Pauline, "you look unusually happy."
"I am so, my dear," I could not avoid saying.
"And lovely too, mamma," giving me another kiss.
After he left, Frank went to his desk, and taking out the card upon which he had written the name of the gentleman to whom he had been entrusted with the dying confession of Squire Lee, looked earnestly at it, hoping the name was the same. But no, that was Shirley. He said while Mr. Percival was here, the thought that this might be the very man concerning whom he had made so many inquiries, flashed through his mind. It had been so long since he had despaired of learning anything about him that he had forgotten the name.
Wednesday, December 25th.
We have had a very quiet Christmas, that is, since Franky has done shouting over the contents of his stocking. Miss Nelly is really growing into a young lady. She came to me last evening, and having drawn me to a part of the room where she was sure her father could not hear, she whispered that she thought she was too old to hang up a stocking, for she had known a long time who put the presents in it; and that she would as soon have them given directly to her.
I laughed so much at the idea of her thinking herself grown up, that her father insisted upon sharing the joke; and somewhat to the young lady's annoyance, I informed him that she had become too old to be treated like a child. He called her to sit on his knee, and told her he must have her for a baby a long time yet. She was so much better than Franky, who would not sit still a moment.
But Miss only pouted until he whistled, and held up his gold pencil case for her to play with, then saying, "Baby want to hear papa's watch tick, tick?" when she "laughed tears," and Pauline came running in to see what caused all the merriment.
Nelly sprang up from her father's lap, saying, "sister would make a far better baby than I should."
Pauline went and put her arms lovingly around her father's neck, and said as she laid her cheek against his, "I should be contented to be a baby in this way forever."
We took our whole family to church, filling up one entire slip. Franky was particularly polite to Ruth, whom he had requested leave to invite to sit with us on this occasion. He took the book of hymns from his sister, and passed it to his sable friend, a kindness which Ruth fully appreciated.
A young gentleman about twenty years of age sat near us. I could not avoid noticing that his eyes seldom turned from our pew. He was a fine, frank looking fellow, with light, curly hair, and fair complexion. But his principal beauty was a pair of brilliant eyes; very bright, but soft and mild in their expression. I saw that Pauline was confused by the young man's ardent gaze, and I was surprised as we came out of the aisle to see that she slightly returned his bow. But I had not much time to wonder, before Nelly whispered, "mamma, that's Pauline's 'Eugene.'" I saw by a smile on his countenance that the young man had heard her introduction; and we were relieved from rather an awkward meeting, by Mr. Percival, who inquired about his father, and then introduced him to us.
Young Clifford represented his father as very feeble, and said it would be a great kindness if the Doctor would call and see him. This Frank readily promised to do. As we went the same way the young man walked by Pauline, and did not leave her until we reached our own door.
Nelly was delighted with him, and her sister frankly said she thought him uncommonly pleasing.
The Catholic part of the community went early in the day, to their church to attend service, and spent the rest of the time in sports. They are now returning from the visits and places of amusement. Some of them are rather noisy; but generally they appear weary and fatigued.
Saturday, December 28th.
Not a day has passed since our introduction to young Clifford, (or Eugene as Nelly insists upon calling him) without our meeting him either in a walk, or by his coming to our place. The Doctor has also called twice upon Colonel Clifford, who is now constantly confined to his bed. Frank says he is not more than forty-seven years of age, but sorrow has placed a heavy mark upon him. He expressed much pleasure that his son had found friends in our family. I rather think our partial friend, Mr. Percival, has spoken of us in his presence. He is very much depressed in spirits; and says there are periods of his life, he would give a great deal to be able to live over again. He speaks with the utmost tenderness of his son, and says, "If he were an experimental Christian, I could ask no more. He is everything else the fondest father could desire."
After this expression the Doctor conversed with him upon religious subjects. "Ah," said the sick man, "what should I have done but for the support of religion!" He hinted that at times his mental distress had been so great, that if it had not been for his religious principles, he fears he should have yielded to the suggestions of the adversary, and have put an end to his life. "But God," he added, "has mercifully preserved me; and will preserve me until the end."
Eugene shares not at all in his father's depression; but is very lively as well as gentle. He says he has been obliged to act the part of a daughter as well as that of a son, for his father has been an invalid ever since his remembrance.
Pauline asked, "How long has your mother been dead?"
He replied, "Many years. I have only a slight recollection of her; and it is a subject upon which my father never speaks."
I saw that this remark excited Pauline's compassion. He also noticed it, and made the most of it. I felt really a little jealous of him to-day, she looked up at him with such a simple trust. I must be on the watch. We know so little of him, and there is such a mystery about the family.
Wednesday, January 1st., 1851.
I wish you a happy new year, dear mother. Eugene came early this morning with his bright face to wish us the same. He said his father had sent him out for a walk, and he invited Pauline and Nelly to accompany him. I gave my consent, though with some reluctance. The truth is, he is one of those lovely young men, who when they are present carry all before them. Frank took the opportunity to walk over and see his father.
Colonel Clifford really smiled when told that his son had called and taken off the young ladies for a walk; but a tear stood in his eye as he replied, "Eugene has never had an opportunity to be much in the company of ladies. I am very much pleased that he has chosen such society." He again expressed gratitude for our kindness to his poor boy, who would soon be an orphan. The Doctor, at Colonel Clifford's request, prayed with him. After prayer, Frank told him he was a Doctor, not of divinity, but of medicine. He thought the Colonel was disappointed, but after a moment's silence he replied, "a pious physician has a great opportunity to do good." The Doctor is more and more pleased with him.
Pauline and Nelly returned in fine spirits from their walk, and repeated to me most of the conversation which had passed. Pauline said their companion had requested them to call him Eugene now that they were so well acquainted; and also that he was entirely reconciled to the plan of his father's spending the winter here, which he at first thought would he dismal enough.
I don't think Eugene realizes that probably his father will not live through the winter.
Thursday, January 2nd.
Eugene has completely won me over. He came in to-day and appeared as glad to see us, as if we had not met for a week. He sat down by me in the most artless manner; and taking a skein of silk from Franky, who was getting it into a sad snarl, said he had a favor to ask of me; and if I would grant it he should be very happy.
He looked at me so earnestly, that I told him with a smile, I thought I might venture to promise, if it were nothing very unreasonable.
For a moment he cast his eyes down; and then said with perfect naiveté, "I thought of it last night after the conversation here, about my not remembering my mother; and this morning I told father, and he approves it very much if you are willing."
"You forget," said I, "that you have not yet asked the favor."
"Well," he resumed, repressing a sigh, "You know I have never since my remembrance had a mother. I need one sadly, to tell me when I do wrong. Oh!" he added, with great emotion, laying the silk on his knee, "I have so longed for a mother, or sister who would watch over me, and take an interest in me, as I have seen mothers and sisters in their sons and brothers."
I was very much affected by this natural outburst of feeling, and said, "I will, my son." Hardly conscious of what I did, I leaned forward, and kissed his pure, white brow.
He grasped my hand, and kneeling, covered it with kisses, while he thanked me in the warmest terms.
Pauline and Nelly looked on with great interest. "Remember," said the former, as she held out her hand to him, while her eyes were filled with tears, "you have now two sisters and a brother."
He was then in a great hurry to go and report his success to his father, who he said would be very much pleased.
Tuesday, January 7th.
Eugene came over for a few moments last evening to thank me in behalf of his father, and to ask if the Doctor would call upon him in the morning, as there had been some change in his symptoms.
Frank offered to go at once; but the young man did not wish it. He went this morning, however, and prescribed a change of medicine.
Colonel Clifford confessed that he had at first been somewhat disappointed in finding that he was not a clergyman; but now considered it a very kind providence which had brought a physician almost to the very door. He added that now the only anxiety he had had in remaining in Nice was obviated. The Doctor remained and read to him for an hour. When he left, the Colonel renewed his thanks for our kindness to his dear boy.