So there was spinning, and weaving in the loom room, and bleaching to be considered in the spring, as May dew was esteemed a wonderful whitener of linens and cottons, though they were mostly woven in the Eastern towns. Now and then came gossipy notes from Varina. Charles wrote dutiful letters to his mother, and sent love to Annis. But the Washington households were begging for Annis continually.
"Yes, I would go," said her mother. "It is dull for one girl alone here on the plantation."
"Mamma—don't you want me?" There was a lustrousness like tears in her eyes.
"My dear!" Her mother kissed her fondly. "Of course I want you. But I have so many cares and occupations, and father takes a good deal of my time, and you have so few amusements. It is the difference, dear, between young people and old people. I want your young life to be pleasant."
"I wish we lived in Washington. Why can't papa build on Virginia Avenue, and have a nice garden, and keep horses, and—" What else was there for him to do?
"He has become settled in this life. He was born and reared here, and has his friends and neighbors about him. It would make him unhappy to go away. The slaves are all fond of him, and it is his pride to be a good master. No; he couldn't leave everything. It is the young people who go out and settle in new homes. And that is the way the Lord has ordered it. 'For this cause'—that is, love—'shall a man leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' And the wife does the same thing."
"Mamma," with a faint tint of color, "I do not think I shall ever be married."
Her mother gave a soft little smile.
"You know Varina was always planning, and Patty used to say 'When I am married,' but I feel curious, and—alone. Perhaps I shall stay with you and father always," and she gave a tender little sigh. "Would you want an old maid?"
"Perhaps I shall need you to take care of me, as grandma did Marian."