Part 6 (1/2)
”Of course, sweet child, you can't make head or tail to all my jibberish, so I'll write lucid English now. The Island is wonderfully beautiful, everything about it seems different from any other part of the world--the trees are bigger and the gra.s.s is greener and every now and then you catch a glimpse of Lake Champlain as blue as Anne's sapphire ring and hazy purple mountains beyond. And the whole place is br.i.m.m.i.n.g with all kinds of historical stories.
”They call this house Happy House. It was named that by the first Anne Leavitt, and she had a mantel made in England with the letters carved on it, and the day after it was put up she died in the very room I'm writing in! Isn't that tragic and exciting? I can't make a story out of that, though, for it's been all written up in a book they sell at North Hero.
”The house is big and built of stone that was quarried on the Island, and it's all covered with vines and is beautiful--outside. It has trees all around it that meet overhead like a canopy, and instead of a regular garden in beds the ground's all covered with tiger lilies and Sweet William and phlox and lots of flowers I don't know the name of, that look as though they'd spilled out over their gardens and grew everywhere. And there's a darling old gardener who is a descendant of Ethan Allen.
”In fact, everyone I've seen is old and, Webb said, is descended from 'somebody or other.'
”But the inside of the house--oh, horrors! I don't believe a ray of suns.h.i.+ne has gotten into it since the year one, and if it did, it would be shut out mighty fast. Dad would go wild with delight over the old furniture, and the dishes are beautiful, but the wallpaper looks like green lobsters crawling all around, and you walk on brown-red roses as big as cabbages. Does it torture my artistic soul? Oh, ye G.o.ds! And my own room! No wonder that other Anne Leavitt died! I never saw so many tidies in my life--I shall never draw a happy breath among them.
Oh, I can shut my eyes, right now and see the dear old tower room--you sitting in the middle of the bed (unmade, of course), playing your uke, Anne digging at her French Four on the window seat along with the fudge dishes which I forgot to wash, and a week's muss all around us. Oh, Claire, _weren't_ we happy, though? And to think it's all over.
”Aunt Sabrina is very handsome and very Leavitty. I think Anne, in her manner, when we've done something she doesn't approve of, is like her Aunt Sabrina. She's very tall and parts her hair straight in the middle and has the longest, straightest nose and a way of talking to you that makes you feel like an atom. B'lindy, who is the woman-of-all-work around Happy House, but Somebody, just you believe, is very much like Aunt Sabrina and looks at you as if she could see the littlest thought way back in your mind. And, of course, with me acting a part and feeling as guilty as can be, you can imagine that I don't enjoy B'lindy's searching glance! However, I asked her some questions about the Leavitts and it warmed her up a little.
”But there is an Aunt Milly that Anne didn't seem to know about and, Claire, _she_ is human--the dearest, sweetest, prettiest, timidest little thing. You can't tell, looking at her, whether she is old or not, but being my great-aunt--or Anne's--I suppose she is. But she is an invalid and evidently can't walk. There's something about her that makes you feel dreadfully sorry for her and like taking care of her, and I sort of imagine that for some reason or other Aunt Sabrina treats her horridly. When Aunt Sabrina comes into the room, poor Aunt Milly acts scared to death.
”Just how I'll come out of it all I can't guess. I've got to keep my head and see the thing through for Anne's sake. But--so far--I don't like it a bit. It was easy enough planning it all with Anne back in college, but somehow, now that I'm here, I feel so underhanded, deceiving these people. And Miss Sabrina talks so much about the Leavitt honor that it makes me feel like thirty cents. There is a lot of mystery about the place, but I feel as though I had no right to try and find it out, though I'll admit I'm dreadfully curious. I rode over from North Hero with the funniest old man--his name is Webb and he said he was one of Freedom's 'first citizens.' Modest--yes. Well, with a very little encouragement he would have poured out the entire Leavitt history, only it didn't seem nice to let him talk. But he spoke about a 'Leavitt trouble,' and he said something about Miss Milly being 'happier in the grave.' Isn't that interesting? And the very strangest thing of all is that Aunt Sabrina has forbidden me to ever _mention_ my father--or Anne's father and grandfather! Of course Anne will want to know all about it, and maybe it is my duty to find out why! Anyway, if the chance comes to me, well, I won't shut my ears.
”Speaking of Webb and riding over from North Hero, Claire, I did the most dreadful thing, and if I tell you, you must swear that you won't ever tell Anne, though goodness knows when either of us will see dear old Anne again. We'd driven along for miles and hadn't seen a soul--even the cows in the pastures weren't moving--when suddenly, around a corner, dashed a man on horseback. He went by us like a flash, but I could tell even with all the dust, that he rode well and was very handsome and sort of different from--well, Webb, and the people you'd _expect_ to see on North Hero Island. I was curious--you know, I always am--and I turned around. And what do you think he did--he wheeled that horse around and stopped dead still to stare at us, and caught me turning, of course, though I was just curious because he seemed different. And that isn't all--he had the nerve to wave his hand and here's the confession! _I nodded back to him!_ I always am so impulsive and it seemed so good to see someone that was young. And he did have the grandest eyes even through the dust. But here's the worst--I asked Webb who he was, and Webb said he was '_Judson's hired man!_' Oh, Claire, what would Anne have said!
”Well, of course, the fellow had his nerve, and if I ever see him again I shall show him his place and make him understand that I am a dignified, unapproachable young person.
”Oh, Claire, dearest, I wish I was with you at Merrycliffe. You don't know how lucky you are to have a jolly home and a jolly mother who knows how to love! That's the trouble here--they act as though it was a crime to show a spark of affection. Aunt Milly comes the nearest to it, but I don't believe the others _know_ what love is.
”Write to me often, for it will help keep up my courage, and I will keep you posted as to all that happens to poor me--especially about the hired man. I can't wait to see him.
”Once your happy and now your perfectly miserable used-to-be Nancy.
”To be known for the present as,
”ANNE LEAVITT.”
CHAPTER V
BIRD'S-NEST
”Joshua Leavitt was Justin's son and he married Abigail Clark over at Isle Le Motte, and they had three sons, Joshua and John and Jacob, all upright, settled young men. Let me see, it was either John or Jacob was killed in the war of 1812, wasn't it, B'lindy?”
Nancy's mind was working faster than the knitting needles in her fingers. For three days now she had sat very close to Aunt Sabrina, learning ”all about the Leavitts.”
”It's lucky I have a good head for history,” she said to herself, nodding to show Aunt Sabrina that she was deeply interested in these Joshuas and Johns and Jacobs. ”If I'm here long enough she _may_ get down to the present generation! Joshua--John--Jacob,” she repeated softly.
”Dear me, where _is_ B'lindy? My memory isn't as good as it used to be. I'm growing to be an old woman. But the Bible in there tells how either John or Jacob fell at Fort Niagara. The Leavitts have always been brave men--and men of honor!”
At this point Nancy, quite involuntarily, dropped a st.i.tch. The sudden color that flushed her cheeks escaped Aunt Sabrina's notice, for B'lindy's voice came suddenly through the open door.
”Miss Sabriny, if Jon'than don't get that cornstarch from Eaton's there won't be no cornstarch puddin' for dinner. He's worse than no good round the house and a body takes more steps huntin' him than doin' all his ch.o.r.es for him!”
Nancy sprang to her feet. ”Oh, _please_ let me find him! I--I'd love to walk around a bit, too. I'll speak very sternly, B'lindy--you just see if he doesn't go at once!” Tossing her red wool into the cus.h.i.+on of the old rocker she had been occupying, Nancy was off before the astonished B'lindy or Aunt Sabrina could utter a protest.
She found Jonathan at his everlasting digging. Nancy shook him playfully by the arm. Jonathan could not guess that her eyes were bright because, for a few moments at least, she had escaped from the oppressiveness of Aunt Sabrina and her ancestors; his old heart warmed to her infectious smile.