Part 2 (2/2)

He'll find plenty of company there.”

Narcissa looked up with wide-open eyes.

”Why do you say that?” she asked.

”Because Rome is the skinniest place on this round earth,” was the reply; ”and I think 'twould suit your uncle down to the ground.”

Still the girl gazed. ”I guess you're mistaken,” she said quietly. ”I guess you never was there, was you?”

”Never till yesterday,” replied the woman, ”and never want to be there again. You see, this isn't my own country at all, as you may say. I belong in another part of the State, and most generally keep to my own beat, havin' my regular customers, understand? and goin' round amongst 'em. But oncet in a while the fancy takes me to roam a little, and see other parts; and so I come round through Damascus and Solon, and pa.s.sed through Rome yesterday.”

”Oh!” cried Narcissa, breathlessly. ”You did? do tell me! and wasn't it elegant? I don't see how you could come away. Did you walk about, and see all them handsome buildings? and did you see the folks?”

The pedlar gazed at her in wonder. The girl's eyes were like stars, her whole face alight with enthusiasm. What did it mean?

”Handsome buildin's?” she repeated. ”In Rome? I'll tell you what I saw, child, and then you'll know. I saw the forlornest place on this earth, I don't care where the next may be. I saw rocks and turkeys, and turkeys and rocks. The street (if you can call it a street; 'twould be called a hog-wallow, down where I come from) is solid rock where it ain't mud, and solid mud where it ain't rock. There's a house here and a house there, and they all look as if they was tryin' to get away from each other, but didn't da.r.s.e to move for fear of fallin'

down.

”The folks I saw were as lean as their own turkeys, and I can't say no further than that. I tried to sell 'em some of my salve; told 'em 'twould heal the skin where 'twas broke with the bones comin' through, but they was past jokin' with.

”I tell you, child, Rome is the--Why, what's the matter?” The good woman stopped suddenly, for Narcissa was trembling all over, and her face shone white in the dim, half-lighted room.

”I--I don't understand you!” she cried wildly. ”There's some mistake; you went to the wrong place, and never saw Rome at all. Look here!”

and she led the way swiftly across the hall, into the other room, the room into which she had taken Romulus Patten the day before. She almost ran up to the picture, and motioned the pedlar, with an imperious gesture, strange in so gentle a creature, to look at it.

”That is Rome!” cried Narcissa. ”You went to the wrong place, I tell you. This--this is Rome!”

The woman drew out a pair of spectacles, and fitted them on her nose with exasperating deliberation. She took a long look at the picture, and then turned to the trembling girl, with a kind light of pity in her eyes struggling with amus.e.m.e.nt.

”You poor--deluded--child!” she said at length. ”Who ever told you that was Rome, I should like to know?”

”But it says so!” cried Narcissa. ”Can't you read? 'ROME.' There it is, in plain letters; and I--don't--” she wanted to say ”I don't believe you!” but the blue eyes that met hers steadily showed nothing but truth and kindness.

”So it is Rome, dear!” said the pedlar, speaking now very gently. ”But it's ancient Rome, over in Europe; Italy, they call the country. Where the ancient Romans lived, don't you know? Julius Caesar, and all those fellers who cut up such didoes, hundreds of years ago? Don't tell me you never went to school, nor learned any history.”

”I--I went for a spell!” Narcissa faltered. ”I had to leave when I was fourteen, because I was wanted to home, and we hadn't only got to the Battle of Lexington in history. I did hope to learn about the Revolution, to home, but father's wife didn't think much of readin', and she burned up the book.”

There was a silence, and then the good-natured pedlar began fumbling in her bag.

”It's a livin' shame!” she cried indignantly. ”Here--no, it ain't, neither. Well! I did think, much as could be, that I had two or three little books here, and I should have been pleased to give you one, dear, just for keeps, you know. But they don't seem to be here. Well, never mind! I was goin' to ask if you wouldn't like this piece of yeller ribbon you seemed to take to. It's a real good piece, and I should be pleased--I declare, child, I do feel bad to have spoiled your pretty notion of Rome. I s'pose you thought likely you'd go there some day, hey? well, well! sit down, and let me put this ribbon on your hair. You no need to be scairt of me. I act kind o' wild sometimes, like I did with your uncle, but it's four parts fun. I'm well known up our way, and anybody'll tell you I come of good stock, if I am crazy enough to wear sensible clothes, that don't hender me walkin' nor settin'. Mis' Transom, my name is. And he called you Narcissy, didn't he? Why, I had a cousin once, name of Narcissy; it's not a common name either, and I allers thought it was real pretty. Set down here, dear, and let's talk a spell.”

Thus the kind woman rattled on, watching the girl keenly the while.

She was making time for her, giving her a chance to recover from what was evidently a heavy blow.

But Narcissa scarcely heard her. She was dazed; her dream was shattered, her glorious city laid in ruins, the beauty and romance of her whole life dashed away, as a rude touch dashes the dew from the morning gra.s.s.

As she sat, trying to realize it, trying to think that it really was not so much, that there would be other pleasant things, perhaps, to fill the barren working days, and gild the grayness of the long lonely Sabbaths,--as she sat thus, a new thought flashed into her mind, piercing like the thrust of a sword.

Her friend, Romulus Patten! She had sent him off on a false scent, had lied to him about the place, the city--she could hardly bear even to think of its dishonored name now. He had gone there, thinking to find what she had told him about,--the stately houses, the arches, the soft suns.h.i.+ne gilding all. What would he think of her when he found it was all a cheat, a lie? He had been kind to her, had seemed to care about her as n.o.body had ever done in her forlorn young life; and this was how she had repaid him!

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