Douglas Amanda M.
A Little Girl in Old Washington
Annis went up to her beloved Washington. Three homes opened their hospitable doors, and Louis took her to see his new house, just above the ruined pile that was full of storied incident already.
"They are sure to rebuild it," he said. "There is a grant being considered. We have had to fight against considerable odds, but we shall keep our own Washington. Forty or fifty years from this I shall be telling my grandchildren how men flew to arms in her defense, whether they were soldiers or not. And though the treaty has omitted some things, we shall take them and keep them. France is our good ally again. And John Quincy Adams has gone to St. Petersburg to make friends of the Russians."
"Oh, that's the man Charles talks about, who went abroad with his father when he was such a little lad, and had such a hard time, and studied and studied, and went to Holland and everywhere."
"And is a fine diplomat. For a young country we have raised a magnificent crop of men! I hope to be chief justice myself some day."
"And not President?"
"I'll leave that for Charles. A chief justice is appointed for life, and stands on his good behavior. Do you think they will be likely to discharge me, Annis?"
"Oh, I know they won't!" laughingly.
The house was being built only to half of the plan. The rest of the ground was to remain a garden until Louis had increased in wealth. But it was very nice, with spacious rooms. Miss Marcia Ellicot was something of an heiress.
Annis found a difficulty in dividing herself around.
"There ought to be two or three of me," she said.
"And you are not to give me the cold shoulder," declared Mrs. Jettson. "I do believe I was the first one to take a real fancy to you; and do you remember how Rene quarreled with you about the babies? Arthur and Floyd are such big boys now."
A new boy had been added to the household. Babies were warmly welcomed in those days.
She liked Marian's quiet home. Captain Ralston was very fond of her. He had discarded his crutches, but still used a cane.
"And what do you think, Annis?" he said, his eyes alight with amusement. "I've had a letter from someone – just guess!"
"You know so many people," returned Annis with a curious heat in her cheeks.
"Someone you know, too. Your old enemy. My good nurse and friend."
"Oh, that – young Englishman who came over here to fight us," she answered with an indifferent air, though she had been certain in her mind when he first told her to guess.
"Yes; Stafford. He is coming over here to settle. He was converted at the Battle of Bladensburg, and is a ranting, tearing, out-and-out American. Why, you never knew a more ardent patriot! He is going to take the oath of allegiance at once, and find something to do, and do it bravely, earnestly. That is the kind of citizens we want. I think he has had something of a time to convince his people, but his father has given him a small sum of money to start him in life – nothing to what it would cost his father if he stayed at home, he says. Strange how these men keep their sons at home, thinking trade disgraceful, when England would swoop up all the commerce of the earth, forgetting what manner of men make commerce possible."
Annis was silent, yet there was a little heart-beat of exultation. Why she could not have told.
"Well – will you bid him welcome and Godspeed?"
"Why, it is nothing to me," with a pretty air of indifference.
She did not see the dainty flush on Marian's cheek, that came in moments of embarrassment, as if she were still sixteen.
"But, then, you have your country's good at heart?"
"I wish the country well," and she made a pretentious courtesy, drawing up her brows.
Marian had read all the letter. It was proud and manly, but a pretty girl had inspired a part of the resolve.
"I shall take him in hand. He is ready for work – if he has a long line of ancestors with titles."
"Yes." Annis gave a provoking laugh. "You know he does not like fighting."
There was pleasure enough to make her forget all about him, but now and then she caught herself wondering.
Jaqueline was quite restored to health and beauty, and was a favorite with society. Roger was certainly a rising man. The undercurrent of political feeling was that Mr. Monroe would succeed his chief, who would be quite as glad to resign his honors and the flood of criticisms as Mr. Jefferson had been. And though the conduct of the war was caviled at, it was admitted on all sides that it had raised the country in the rank of nations.
So Annis flitted back and forth like a dainty bird, that did not forget the home nest. She did her hair high on her head and had a fringe of fascinating little curls; she wore French heels to her slippers, and a train on grand occasions. She was not handsome, as the elder Mason girls had been, not tall or stately, but sweet and pretty, with just enough of the coquette to make her arch and winsome.
One night at an assembly, where naval men were out in force, someone caught her hand in the change of partners. A young officer, a first lieutenant, she saw by his insignia of rank.
"Oh!" he cried, "you have forgotten me, but I remember you. I saw you across the room, but I was engaged for this dance. I was coming immediately after. It was at the naval ball when Ensign Hamilton came in with the flag. What a night it was! And I was Midshipman Yardley, going out on my first cruise. There – the next figure is waiting."
He handed her gallantly to her new partner.
She went back to Jaqueline. "Oh, Roger!" she cried, "do you remember the young midshipman at the naval ball when there was such an excitement? He is here to-night. I have just been dancing with him. There he is, coming hither."
The smiling young fellow was glad to see Mr. and Mrs. Carrington. Annis excused herself from her next partner, she was so eager to hear him talk. Perhaps he would not have lent dignity to the position of an admiral, for he was not tall nor imposing, but bright and eager and full of spirit and ambition. "After all, it has been a glorious war," he declared. He had been in a number of victories, and quite distinguished himself, they heard afterward; and one sad defeat, when he had been taken prisoner with some other men and made a daring escape, landing on the coast of France, and worked and begged his way home. Now he was stationed at Annapolis for some time.
Annis had to go and dance in the middle of the story, and then he begged the honor. Was she staying with her sister? He should be in town a few days. Could he not call on her?
Jaqueline gave him the invitation.
Captain Ralston was eager to see him, as well. There were so many things to talk over. Such wonderful victories, some such sad defeats, many brave men who had given their lives and left imperishable names behind them. How proud the young fellow was of his country!
And they had to tell the story of Washington with the verve that people do who have lived through an event.
They looked at the ruins, they rode up the Potomac, they went again to Bladensburg. Everything was so near, so vivid.
Lieutenant Yardley decided that Annis was the most charming young girl he had ever met.
"I am a little afraid of most women," he admitted. "You can't always tell just what to say, and sometimes when they praise you you feel silly all over. And some women never rouse to patriotism. But we find so much to say to each other. Oh, I wish I were going to stay in Washington a month! Won't you make some of your relatives bring you over to Annapolis? You have such a splendid lot. Only, do you know, I like your own name, Annis Bouvier, better than I do Annis Mason. It just suits you."
She blushed a little. What a pretty way he had of saying Annis!
But alas! the delight came to an end, and for several days Annis thought Washington as dull as the plantation.
"I am afraid my poor fellow won't stand any chance," said Ralston, with a slow shake of the head. "The lieutenant is delightful, certainly quite dangerous enough to turn any girl's brain."
The "poor fellow" reached Washington one morning, having landed at New York, and spent half a lifetime on the post-roads, he declared. They were all a little startled. It seemed as if he must have grown, he was so tall and manly and fine-looking, and so overjoyed to see them again, so happy at the thought of being an American citizen.
"It is as I said when I was here before – the people do not understand each other. When they come to a time that they can work side by side in anything, you will see something grand accomplished. There is a fine, free air over here that inspirits one. You can begin without being hampered by a thousand petty restrictions. And I am going to prove myself a man."
Dr. Collaston and Patty gave him the warmest welcome, quite as cordial as that of Ralston. But it was queer that when he went there Annis had gone to Jaqueline's; and finally Ralston asked her boldly to come to tea and give Eustace Stafford a word of welcome.
"There isn't anything left for me to say," and the rosy lips pouted as if offended. "You have all been so – so extravagant – or is it exuberant? – in your demonstrations, that I shall seem tame. And why should I be so desperately glad? He would have killed you, Philip, or anyone else, if he hadn't been wounded at once. I'd like you to go and thank the soldier who did it."
"You are a briery little body where he is concerned, Annis. Why, peace would never have been signed if both parties had held out as you do! I think it fine in him to come out so frankly and own he was on the wrong side. Even if you have no Indian blood in your veins, you might come and smoke a figurative pipe of peace – that is, drink a cup of tea and wish him well."
"You know I don't like tea. I should think they would have wanted to throw it overboard. Another of England's tyrannies!"
"I thought you had a tender place in your heart for Marian and me."
"Oh, I can come!" she said pettishly. "I am not afraid of your Englishman."
"I began to think you were," teasingly.
And so she came. But when she greeted Mr. Stafford, who had nothing of the boy left about him, but who met her eyes steadily until hers fell, and whose voice had lost the old deprecating, beseeching tone, a sudden half-terror took possession of her, an indefinable fear that made her angry and yet disarmed her. Oh, she was sure she liked Lieutenant Yardley a hundred times better!
Afterward she said she was tired of all the gayeties, and wanted to go home. The plantation was at its loveliest, and there would be such rides with papa, and she was sure her mother was longing to see her.
But when bees once get a taste for the sweetest honey flowers, they haunt the spot. And Annis Bouvier was no longer a little girl. She felt the strange solemn capabilities within her. Sometimes she clung to her mother, as if not daring to meet them. The mother knew what it meant, and gave her the wordless comfort mothers can give, in a kiss or a clasp of the hand, as one crosses the bridge to womanhood.
Neighboring young men began to haunt the house. The Mason girls had always been favorites. And then down came the young Englishman, who resolved not to lose the prize if earnest wooing could avail. They were both so young. True, he had his fortune to make, but some of the noblest Virginian families had sprung from penniless young sons who had come to the new countries and won not only wealth, but fame. Captain Ralston had found a place for him, and he should live in fair sight of everybody. If he did not make the sort of man they could approve, he should never blame them for refusing him their treasure. All he asked for was time and a fair field.
"He has the making of a man in him," the father conceded to himself, but aloud he said – a little weakly: "Annis is too young to decide. In the end it will be as she desires."
"And I can come now and then as a friend?"
"It may make trouble for Annis later on, but I could not refuse," he said to his wife afterward.
Annis came and sat on his knee in the soft Virginian twilight, dusky sooner than that farther north. The whip-poor-wills called to each other, the mocking bird flung out a note now and then as if he said saucily, "Did you think I was asleep?" and the frogs in the marsh were far enough off to send a strain of quivering music. She put her arms about his neck, and her soft warm cheek touched his.
"Were you very cross and stern, papa?" in the most coaxing of tones.
"No, dear. He is a fine fellow."
"But he came to fight against us."
"Yes. It was a great crime."
"He was sent, and he didn't know any better. Some day we shall know a good deal more about each other."
"Annis, do you love him? Child, don't make a mistake! And don't trifle with him."
"No, I don't love him. We quarreled dreadfully at first. I can't help liking and admiring him. He is so strong and earnest. There are a good many grand men in the world, are there not? And some of them have been poor and have had hard times. I didn't want him to think it was because he was poor."
"No, dear," as she waited for some reply.
"And you know I can't help meeting him at Marian's, and Patty likes him so much, too. It would be very disagreeable to be bad friends?"
"Yes," assented the elder.
"So we are going to be just friends until – well, until I am twenty, perhaps."
"Yes – if you will wait until then."
Annis kissed him.
But that was not the end of love affairs. Lieutenant Yardley insisted upon telling his story. He had carried about with him a child's sweet face, and resolved that if he should survive the deadly strife he would come home and find her. He thought his claim far the best. Had he not fought for the country, her country?
She liked him too. It was hard to decide. And then the lieutenant, being rather fiery, went at his rival in a fierce manner. Dueling was still in vogue.
Annis was alarmed. She sent for the big Englishman. It was curious, but she knew she could make him obey her slightest behest, big and strong as he was.
"You are not to quarrel about me," she began with wonderful dignity. "I do not think I shall marry either of you, or anybody. But if there was a dispute, and you did anything reprehensible, I should never, never see you or speak to you again. Lieutenant Yardley is one of the country's heroes, and you – " How should she put it?
"I am here on sufferance, until I earn the right. Yes, I understand."
She flushed scarlet.
"You are bound over to keep the peace."
"Here is my hand in token of it. I shall never do anything to make you sorry or ashamed of me."
"Papa," she said in a plaintive tone a day or two after Stafford's visit, "should you be very sorry if I – were to – stay single – always?"
"Why, no, dear," and he smiled. "Don't you remember, when Louis and Charles used to dispute about you, I said we would marry off the others, and you should stay here with mother and me?"
"I must be very naughty, to have people disputing about me," and she sighed in a delicious sort of manner. "But I have quite resolved that I will not marry anybody."
They all went up to Washington to attend the wedding of the eldest son. There was only one lover present, and Annis was sincerely glad.
There was much going back and forth, as there always is when families branch out and set up new homes. And presently Charles came home, quite a tall boy, but still delicate-looking, and so much improved that Annis insensibly went back to her old regard for him. He was broader-minded, and took a livelier interest in everything.
He soon found that Annis was a great favorite with all the young people. She wasn't as handsome as Jaqueline, nor as bright and overflowing with fun as Patty; indeed, he could not decide what the charm was. He heard about the two real lovers, and met them both. Secretly he favored Stafford and felt sorry for the lieutenant.
One day they were lounging in the old nook by the creek. He was telling over his plans. He was not anxious now to be President, or even a minister abroad, but he was eager for all the knowledge he could grasp, for all the discoveries that were looming up on the horizon. Uncle Conway had advised him to enter an English university after the coming year.
She was in the low swing, which was a tangle of vines now, and he was curled up in the grass at her feet, as they talked over the past and the future. Then there was a long, sweet silence, such as comes nowhere but in country nooks.
"Annis," he exclaimed regretfully, resignedly, "I do not suppose you ever could marry me?"
She started in surprise. "Oh, Charles!" she cried in pain, "I thought that foolishness was at an end."
"Has it been foolishness? Annis, I don't believe you could understand that boyish passion. I don't understand it myself. You fitted into my life. You liked my old heroes. You never laughed or teased me about them. They were my life then. That was the country I always lived in. And it was very sweet to have you. How jealous I was of Louis! Some of the great intellectual heroes have had just such a love. Last summer I was half ashamed of it; I was growing out of childhood. And now I have gone back to it again."
"Oh, Charles, I am so sorry!" There was anguish in her tone. "You see, I am older, and you will have four or five years abroad, and grow and develop as men do – "
"Yes. I couldn't ask so much of you. And maybe, then, we wouldn't suit. Don't you know how the old slave women put pieces of gowns in their best quilts and cherish them because this was young missy's, and this someone else's? And I'd like to be the piece that you'd go back to in memory, and think how sweet the old times were, even when you have a husband, proud and strong, and that you loved devotedly. And how you bade me hope through all that trying time, and gave me your mother when you loved her so, and kept my little secret, for we never can think it was Varina's fault."
She bent over. Their arms were about each other's necks, and both were crying – tender, loving tears.
The ensuing winter in Washington was one long talked about. The President removed to a place forming part of the notable "Seven Buildings," which had been fitted up for its greater spaciousness. It was the last winter of Mrs. Madison's reign, as in March Colonel Monroe was to be inaugurated. There was a great stir and intellectual activity, a broadening of political life; and as we look back it seems as if there were giants in those days. Thither came the hero of the Battle of New Orleans, General Jackson, with his wife, and many another worthy; even curious visitors from abroad, who acknowledged the grace of Mrs. Madison's brilliant hospitality.
Thenceforward it was to be a new Washington, more truly American perhaps, crystallizing around the points that gave strength and dignity, and proving false many an evil prophecy.
A few, very few, of the old places are left. But the Capitol is the nucleus of a great nation, and the White House reared on the old superstructure holds many memories the country will always cherish.
I suppose I hardly need tell you that after a while Annis broke her resolve and married the man of her choice, living a long and happy life in the newer Washington. That when her sons were grown there was nothing they enjoyed more than visiting the commander at Fortress Monroe and listening to the stirring events of 1812. He thought there never could be such battles and victories again. But the girls were most fond of their delightful bachelor uncle Charles, whose pen was making a name and fame in the intellectual world.
