Part 40 (1/2)

”No,” replied that lady, who prided herself on a delicate appet.i.te, ”I never am hungry; dew and flowers, my friends used to say, were intended to support sensitive nerves like mine.”

”Very likely,” thought Enoch Sharp; ”I am certain no human being could support them,” but he drowned this ungallant thought in a loud call for Ralph to drive on.

The horses made a leap forward, swept round a huge rock that concealed the highway where it curved suddenly with a bend of the river, and before them lay one of the most beautiful mountain villages you ever beheld. The horses knew their old home. Away they went sweeping up the broad winding sheet between double columns of young maple trees, through which the white houses gleamed tranquilly and dream-like on the eyes of those city children.

CHAPTER XXVI

A VALLEY IN THE MOUNTAINS.

High up among the emerald breasted hills, There lay a village, cradled in their green.

Surrounded by such loveliness as thrills The poetry within us--and the sheen Of a broad river kissed the mountain's foot Where stately hemlocks found primeval root.

Judge Sharp's carriage stopped in front of a n.o.ble mansion near the centre of the village. I think it must have been one of the oldest houses in the place. But modern improvements had so transfigured and beautified it, that it bore the aspect of a n.o.ble suburban villa, rather than a mountain residence. The roof lifted in a pointed gable, and supported by brackets, shot several feet over the front, resting on a row of tall, slender columns which formed a n.o.ble portico along the entire front.

In order to leave the first family homestead ever built in those mountains entire in its simple architecture, this portico shaded the double row of windows first introduced into the dwelling; and the main building remained entire within and without, as it had been left years before by its primitive architect. But modern wings had been united to the old building on the left and in the rear pointed with gables, and so interspersed with chimneys that the whole ma.s.s formed a gothic exterior singular and beautiful as it was picturesque.

n.o.ble old trees, maple, elm and ash, shaded the green lawn which fell far back from the house, terminating on one side in a fine fruit orchard bending with ripened peaches and purple plums, and broken up on the south by a flower-garden gorgeous with late summer blossoms, shaded with grape arbors and clumps of mountain ash, all flushed and red with berries.

This n.o.ble garden lost itself in the deep green of an apple orchard full of singing birds. The waters of a mountain brook came leaping down from the broken hills beyond, and gleamed through the thick foliage, mingling their sweet perpetual chime with the rising breath of that little wilderness of flowers.

This was the dwelling at which Judge Sharp's carriage stopped. It seemed like a Paradise to the little girls, who longed to get out and enjoy a full view of its beauties from the lawn. But Mrs. Farnham was a guest, for the time; and well disposed to use her privileges, she refused to descend, though hospitably pressed, and seemed to think the few moments required by the Judge to enter his own home, an encroachment on her rights and privileges.

But the Judge cared little for this, and was far more engaged with a venerable old house-dog, toothless, grey and dim-eyed, who arose from his sunny nook upon the gra.s.s, and came soberly down to welcome his master, than he was with the lady's discontent.

”Ha, Carlo, always on hand, old fellow,” he said, patting the grizzly head of his old favorite, ”glad to see me, ha!”

Carlo looked up through his dim eyes and gave a feeble whine, which, in his young days, would have been a deep-mouthed bay of welcome.

Then, with grave dignity, he tottered onward by his master's side, escorted him up to the entrance door, and lay down in a sunny spot which broke through the honeysuckle branches on the balcony, satisfied by the soft rush of feet and the glad female voices within, that his master was in good hands.

”I wonder,” said Mrs. Farnham, leaning back with an air of ineffable disgust, and talking to no one in particular--”I wonder how the Judge can allow that old brute to prowl after him in that manner, but there is no medium in some people. I'm sure if he were at my house I would have him shot before morning--laying down on the portico indeed!”

”But he seems so glad,” said Mary Fuller, struck with a thrill of sympathy for the dog, rendered repulsive to that silly woman by his age, as she was by her homeliness.

”Isn't it the duty of every ugly thing to be still?” replied Mrs.

Farnham, casting a look of feeble spite at the child. ”But the Judge has a fancy for uncouth pets.”

”Perhaps because they feel kindness so much,” answered Mary, in a trembling voice.

”Indeed!” drawled the lady; ”then I wish he would be kind enough to send us on. This tiresome waiting, when one is worn out and half famished, is too much.”

Just then the Judge appeared at the front door cheerful and smiling, and, in the shaded background of the hall, two fair forms were visible, hovering near, as if reluctant to part with him again so soon.

”Not quite out of patience, I hope?” he said, leaning into the carriage, while the ladies of his family came forth with offers of hospitality. But Mrs. Farnham muttered something about fatigue, dust, and the strong desire she had to see her own home--a desire in which the ladies soon heartily, but silently, joined, for it needed only a first sentence to convince them that the interesting widow would make but a sorry acquisition to the neighborhood.

”Then, if you absolutely insist, madam, the next best thing is to proceed,” cried Enoch Sharp, and, springing into his seat, he waved an adieu to his family, and the rather reluctant horses proceeded briskly down the street.

The river which we have mentioned, skirted the village with its bright waters; two or three fine manufacturing buildings stood back from its banks, and, having supplied them with its sparkling strength, it swept on wildly as before, curving and deepening between its green or rocky banks with low, pleasant murmurs, like a troop of children let loose from school.