Volume II Part 55 (1/2)
”No. But in a Fijian house it may--as I have proved. The natives would have a wooden frame here, at one side, to hold cooking vessels. You do not need that, for you have a kitchen.”
”With a fireplace like this?”
”Yes,” he said, with a smile that had some raillery in it, which Eleanor would not provoke.
”Suppose you come and look at something that is not Fijian,” he went on. ”You must vary your attention.”
He drew her before a little unostentatious piece of furniture, that looked certainly as if it was made out of a good bit of English oak.
What it was, did not appear; it was very plain and rather ma.s.sively made. Now Mr. Rhys produced keys, and opened first doors; then a drawer, which displayed all the characteristic contents and arrangements of a lady's work-box on an extended scale. Love's work; Eleanor could see her adopted mother in every carefully disposed supply of needles and silks and braids and glittering Sheffield ware, and the thousand and one appliances and provisions for one who was to be at a very large distance from Sheffield and every home source of needle furniture. Love recognized love's work, as Eleanor looked into the drawer.
”Now you are ready to say this is a small thread and needle shop,” said Mr. Rhys; ”but you will be mistaken if you do. Look further.”
And that she might, he unlocked a pair of smaller inner doors; the little piece of furniture developed itself immediately into a capital secretary. As thoroughgoing as the work-box, but still more comprehensive, here were more than mere materials and conveniences for writing; it was a depository for several small but very precious treasures of a scientific and other kinds; and even a few books lay nestling among them, and there was room for more.
”What is this!” Eleanor exclaimed when she had got her breath.
”This is--Mrs. Caxton! I do not know whether she expected you to turn sempstress immediately for the colony--or whether she intended you for another vocation, as I do.”
”She sent this from England!”
”It was made by n.o.body worse than a London cabinet-maker. I did not know whether you would choose to have it stand in this place, or in the only room that can properly be called your own. Come in here;--the other part of the house is, you will find, pretty much public.”
”Even your study?”
”That is no exception, sometimes. I am a public man, myself.”
The part.i.tion wall of this room was nicely lined with mats; the door was like a piece of the wall, swinging to noiselessly, but Mr. Rhys shewed Eleanor how she could fasten it securely on the inside. Eleanor had been taken into this room on her first arrival; but had then been unable to see anything. Now her eyes were in requisition. Here there was even more attention paid to comfort and appearances than in the dining-room. In the simplest possible manner; but somebody had been at work there who knew that elegance is attainable without the help of opulence; and that eye and hand can do what money cannot. Eye and hand had been busy everywhere. Very pretty and soft native mats were on the floor; the windows were shaded with East Indian _jalousies;_ and not only personal convenience but tastes were regarded in the various articles of furniture and the arrangement of them. Good sense was regarded too. Camp chairs and tables were useful for packing and moving, as well as neat to the eye; white draperies relieved their simplicity; shelves were hung against the wall in one place for books, and filled; and in the floor stood an easy chair of excellent workmans.h.i.+p, into which Mr. Rhys immediately put Eleanor. But she started up to look at it.
”Did aunt Caxton send all these things?” she said with a tear in her eye.
”She has sent almost too many. These are but the beginning, Look here, Eleanor.”
He opened a door at one end of the room, hidden under mat hangings like the other, which disclosed a large s.p.a.ce lined with shelves; several articles reposing on them, and on the floor below sundry chests and boxes.
”This is your storeroom. Here you may revel in the riches you do not immediately wish to display. This is yours; I have a storeroom on my own part.”
”And what is in those chests and boxes, Mr. Rhys?”
”I don't know! except that it is aunt Caxton again. You will find tablecloths and napkins--I can certify that--for I stumbled upon them; but I thought they had best not see the light till their owner came. So I locked them up--and here are the keys.”
”And who put up all these nice shelves?”
”Your head carpenter.”
”And have you been doing all this for me?” said Eleanor.
He laughed and took her in his arms again, looking at her with that mixture of expressions.
”I wish I could give you some of my content!” he said.
”I do not want it!” said Eleanor laughing.