Loveday's history

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

And then I began to cry again. My aunt hushed me and tried to make me eat, but that I could not do. She then undressed me and put me to bed with her blessing. My fierce indignation was all gone by that time, and I began to hope that things would come right after all.

I don't know whether or not my aunt imparted to my uncle her own convictions of my innocence, but if so, she did not succeed in convincing him. I staid in my solitude all day, but I was allowed my embroidery frame, and Sambo—with my aunt's connivance, I imagine—brought his talking popinjay to amuse me. It was a very pretty and entertaining bird, and I beguiled my solitude by teaching it some new words and phrases.

Toward night, however, the scene outside became so gay and animated that I almost forgot my grievances in watching it. As I have said, my uncle's house was built with the upper stories overhanging, and my room had besides a projecting window, so I could see up and down the street for a long way. All the houses had been adorned with garlands of sweet herbs and flowers, and branches of lights which were now being kindled and made a fine show. Before every house of any consequence was set a table with store of meat and drink, which was free to all comers. My uncle's great chair was placed on the pavement, and Sambo stood behind it dressed in his gayest suit. The maids, all in their best, were gathered at an upper window to see the show, and Betty had put herself particularly forward.

But now came the sound of music and the tramp of horses, and every body was on the alert. Presently I saw the head of the procession coming round the corner. First came sundry pageants, morris dancers with bells, and so forth; then men in bright armor, each one with an attendant bearing a light upon a pole. Then came the Mayor and his attendants, on foot and on horseback, all with scarlet jerkins trimmed with gold lace, and posies at their breasts. I knew one of the footmen was Betty's bachelor, and had seen him more than once. As he came abreast of the house, he looked up, and there, fastened in his jerkin, were the missing flowers.

Somebody else had seen them too. As the man saw his mistress looking at him, he put his hand to his cap to salute her, and in so doing, he brushed the flowers from his breast. Before he had time to miss them, Sambo sprang upon them like a black cat upon a mouse, put them in his bosom, and returned to his place, before any one but myself, and I think Betty, saw what he had done. She uttered some sort of exclamation, and retired from the window, and though she presently returned, I don't think she greatly enjoyed the rest of the show, gorgeous as it was.

The procession passed with all its lights and music, its images of giants, and all the rest of the show, and disappeared in the distance. The tables were carried in, the lights extinguished, and I went to bed, feeling greatly comforted by the thought that my innocence was like to be established.

The next morning my dinner was brought me as usual, and it was not till noon that my aunt came and led me down to the parlor. There sat my uncle in his great chair, the withered red flowers on the table before him. Teddy Stillman, Betty's sweetheart—a decent looking whitesmith—stood near, twirling his flat cap in his hands, his honest face cast down with a look of grief and shame. Sambo stood behind his master's chair, like a statue done in ebony, and Betty was crying in a corner. My uncle held out his hand to me and bade me approach.

"Do you see these flowers, niece?"

"Yes, uncle," I answered.

"Do you know where they were found?"