Out beyond them were some fine old mansions belonging to the time of plantations and country settlements. The very last of the preceding century the Convent of the Visitation had been erected, for so many of the Maryland gentry were Roman Catholics. There was a school for girls here, mostly boarding scholars.
Then Rock Creek stretched way up on the heights, threading its path in and out of plantations where fields were dotted with slaves at their work, often singing songs with the soft monotonous refrain that suggested the rhythm of the distant ocean. Occasionally you met a silvery lake that bosomed waving shadows; then stretches of gigantic oaks, somber pines, and hemlocks; and now and then a little nest of Indian wigwams whose inhabitants preferred quasi-civilization.
To the southeast, on the Anacostia River, was the navy yard, active enough now. And there was Duddington Manor, with its high wall and stately trees overtopping it, built by Charles Carroll, to be for a long while a famous landmark in solitary grandeur. But the Van Ness mansion, nearer the Potomac, was always alight, and often strains of music floated out on the night air to the enjoyment of the passer-by.
Annis had been living in a kind of old world, peopled with the heroes of Homer, the knights of Arthur, and the pilgrims of Chaucer, as well as Spenser's "Faërie Queene." She had a confused idea that Pope's garden was in some of these enchanted countries, and that Ben Jonson and Shakspere were among the pilgrims who sang songs and told tales as they traveled on, or stopped at the roadside and acted a play. Charles had learned where to place his heroes and who of them all were real.
Annis left the realm of imagination and fancy and came down to actual study. At first she did not like it.
"But you must know something about modern events," declared Jaqueline, "to read well and write a nice letter; and to understand the history of our own country, which is all real. And to keep accounts—every housekeeper ought to be able to do that. Grandmamma had to look after the big plantation until papa came of age; and women have to do a good many different things."
"I think I shall like learning them, or most of them," and Annis' eyes shone.
"There is dancing, too; you must go in a class next winter. You can embroider nicely, so you needn't bother about that. And I have been in a painting class where there were some quite small girls. Some ladies paint fans and flower pieces beautifully. And Patty thinks she will have a pianoforte, which would be delightful. Singing classes are in vogue, too."
"Oh, dear, can one learn so much?" and the child looked perplexed.
"You do not have to learn it all at once," returned the elder with a smile.