Helen and Arthur; or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel

by Caroline Lee Hentz

Mittie was not afraid of being eclipsed by Helen, in the new sphere on which she had entered. At home the latter was more petted and caressed, the object of deeper tenderness, but there she reigned supreme, and the pet of the household would find herself nothing more than a cipher. She was mistaken. It was impossible to look upon Helen without interest, and Master Hightower seemed especially drawn towards her. He bent down till he overshadowed her with his loftiness, then smiling at the quick withdrawal of her soft, wild, shy glances, he took her up in his lap as if she were a plaything, sent for his amusement.

Mittie was not pleased at this, for though she thought herself entirely too much of a woman to be treated with such endearing familiarity, she could not bear to see such caresses bestowed on another.

“I wonder,” she said to herself, with a darkening countenance, “I wonder what any one can see in such a little goose as Helen, to take on about? Little simpleton! she’s afraid of her own shadow! Never mind! wait awhile! When he finds out how lazy she is, he’ll put her on a lower, harder seat than his lap.”

It was true that Helen soon lost cast with the uncompromising enemy of idleness. She had fallen into a habit of reverie, which made it impossible for her to fix her mind on a given lesson. Her imagination had acquired so much more strength than her other faculties, that she could not convert the monarch into the vassal. She would try to memorize the page before her, and resolutely set herself to the task, but the wing of a snow-bird fluttering by the window, or the buzzing of a fly round the warm stove, would distract her attention and call up trains of thought as wild as irrelevant. Sometimes she would bend down her head, and press both hands upon it, to keep it in an obedient position; but all in vain!—her vagrant imagination would wander far away to the confines of the spirit-land.

Master Hightower coaxed, reasoned with her, scolded, threatened, did every thing but punish. He could not have the heart to apply the black ruler to that little delicate hand. He could not give a blow to one who looked up in his face with such soft, deprecating, fearful eyes—but he grew vexed with the child, and feeling of the edge of his ruler half-a-dozen times, declared he did not know what to do with her.

One night Mittie lingered behind the rest, and told him that if he would shut up Helen somewhere alone, in the dark, he would have no more trouble with her; that her father had said that it was the only way to make her study. It was true that Mr. Gleason had remarked, in a jesting way, when told of Helen’s neglect of her lessons, that he must get Mr. Hightower to have a dark closet made, and he would have no more trouble; but he never intended such a cruelty to be inflicted on his child. This Mittie well knew, but as she had no sympathy with her sister’s fears, she had no compassion for the sufferings they caused. She thought she deserved punishment, and felt a malicious pleasure in anticipating its infliction.

Master Hightower had no dark closet, but there was room enough in his high, dark, capacious desk, for a larger body than the slender, delicate Helen. He resolved to act upon Mittie’s admirable hint, knowing it would not hurt the child to enclose her awhile in a nice, warm, snug place, with books and manuscripts for her companions.

Helen heard the threat without alarm, for she believed it uttered in sport. The pleasant glance of the eye contradicted the severity of the lips. But Master Hightower was anxious to try the experiment, since all approved methods had failed, and when the little delinquent blushed and hung her head, stammering a faint excuse for her slighted task, he said nothing, but slowly lifting up the lid of his desk, he placed his black ruler in a perpendicular position, letting the lid rest upon it, forming an obtuse angle with the desk. Then he piled the books in the back part, leaving a cavity in front, which looked something like a bower in a greenwood, for it was lined with baize within and without.

“Come my little lady,” said he, taking her up in his arms, “I am going to try the effect of a little solitary confinement. They say you are not very fond of the dark. Well, I am going to keep you here all night, if you don’t promise to study hereafter.”

Helen writhed in his strong grasp, but the worm might as well attempt to escape from under the giant’s heel, as the child from the powerful hold of the master. He laid her down in the green nest, as if she were a downy feather, then putting a book between the lid and the desk, to admit the fresh air, closed the lid and leaned his heavy elbow upon it. The children laughed at the novelty of the punishment, all but the orphan child; but when they heard suppressed sobs issuing from the desk, they checked their mirth, and tears of sympathy stole down the cheeks of the gentle orphan girl. Mittie’s black eyes sparkled with excitement; she was proud because the master had acted upon her suggestion, and inflicted a punishment which, though it involved humiliation, gave no real suffering.