Chapter XXVI: Day After the Wedding

What is the world to them?
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all?
Who in each other clasp whatever fair,
High fancy forms and lavish hearts can wish,
Or in the mind or mind-illumined face;
Truth, goodness, honor, harmony and love,
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven!
_—Thompson._

At break of day a large traveling wagon, strongly and compactly built, and neatly roofed with snow-white tent-cloth stretched lightly over hoops, and drawn by two stout gray mules, stood before the village hotel at Huttontown. This wagon was closely packed with a small assortment of cabin furniture. All this “household stuff” was perfectly new, clean, neat, and bright, and snugly stowed away in the back and middle part of the wagon. Near the front of the vehicle stood a small, flag-bottomed armchair, wedged tightly in between boxes and trunks, so that it could not be jostled by the motion of the wagon. It is needless to say that this was the “traveling carriage” of our bridal pair, or that the little flag-bottomed chair was provided for the especial convenience and comfort of the bride. Early as the hour was, a crowd of village neighbors had collected for the pleasure of seeing the “bride and groom” come out, and the wagon start “for the Western country.” Among the assembled villagers was a fine, handsome boy of ten or twelve years of age, who volunteered to hold the reins until the travelers should come forth.

The people had not very long to wait. The front door of the hotel opened, and Dr. Hardcastle, clad in a large, shaggy overcoat and overalls, and fox-skin cap and gloves, and looking as great, energetic, and joyous as ever, came out, leading Elsie, wrapped in a full, brown cloth cloak, with her healthful, happy face blooming and smiling from out the comfortable rolls of a wadded, brown silk hood.

Magnus nodded and smiled as he shook hands hastily right and left, and hurried Elsie toward the wagon. He lifted her in, fixed her comfortably in her chair, wrapped the ample folds of her cloak about her, and tucked it snugly around her feet, with a solicitous care for her and a total indifference to the eyes of the lookers-on that provoked their merriment into peals of good-humored laughter, accompanied by exclamations of: “That is right, doctor. Take good care of her, God bless her! That’s right, doctor. That’s the way. Tuck her up warm. Indeed, her chin will freeze, if you don’t muffle that comforter closer around her throat.”

“Oh, hurry! let’s escape this!” whispered Elsie, laughing and blushing.

“Never mind, dear! Never mind their rough manners. You are too generous and large-hearted to feel anger or contempt at their unrefined method of expressing their sympathy, which is really more sincere and earnest than all the congratulations in elegant phrases that ladies and gentlemen give and receive upon such occasions. Let us have patience with uncultivated Nature, dear Elsie, for we are going to live with her a long time. At least, have any other feeling for humanity rather than contempt, dear Elsie,” replied Magnus, as he finished arranging her cloak.

“Me! me presume to feel contempt for my rough, honest, kindly neighbors! Oh, Magnus, never! I will prove to you that I do not!” exclaimed Elsie, in a low, hurried voice.

Then Magnus sprang into his seat, and took the reins from the hands of the lad.

As he gave them up, the boy fixed a long, lingering, wistful look at the wagon and its occupants.

“You look as if you had half a mind to accompany us, my boy,” said Dr. Hardcastle, as he read the expression of the lad’s countenance.

“Oh, I have, sir! for I feel I could be useful, almost necessary to you, and beneficial to myself, if I could go; but I cannot, for I have a little girl to take care of at home.”

“A little girl to take care of? You!”

“Yes, sir, my little sister, or rather she is just like my little sister. We live on Hutton Island.”

“Oh, yes! the two Children of the Isle. How come you over here so early, my boy?”

“I came over to bring some maninosies to the tavern, sir, in time for them to be prepared for breakfast. I expect you ate some of them yourself, sir.”

“Yes, and they were very good.”

“My sister and I gathered them, sir.”

“Yes. Well, my boy, you look like a fine, independent, enterprising lad. Rely on God and yourself, improve your mind, be honest, industrious, and frugal, and you will make your own way in the world. What is your name?”

“Hugh Hutton, sir.”

“Yes, young Hutton of the Isles, one of the ‘Scotch lairds,’ as the people used to call them for their pride and——”

“Poverty,” calmly concluded the boy.

“Well, child, they go admirably together. Hold to your pride as long as you are poor, and cast it away when you become rich. Well, Hugh, I will not forget you, or lose sight of you. Some day I shall come back, and then you may return with me. Good-by,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking hands with the boy.

Then he arose in his seat, lifted his cap, and waved farewell to the neighbors. Elsie kissed her hand to them several times, blushing brightly as they all waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and amid the cheers and benedictions of the little crowd the wagon started.

“We must make thirty miles to-day, dear Elsie, and reach Deep Dell by nightfall if possible,” said Magnus.

“Oh, how I wish that fine boy were really with us. How useful he could be to you, and what a man you could make of him!” said she, looking back to where Hugh stood, the last of the crowd, watching the departing wagon.

“God has made a man of him already, dear Elsie. What a fine, independent look he has! Yes, I could have wished him to go with us; a very strong sympathy attracts me to that boy. I should be very proud of that boy.”

“He will be gentle and great like you. He reminds me of what you were at his age, when you used to carry me about the forest in your arms, as joyous as a boy, yet as careful as a woman. I thought of that when he talked about his sister. Magnus, I used to feel as if I should so love to have a sister or to be a sister. There is such a sweet and tender thought in sisterhood—children of the same mother. Just now I thought that boy’s voice took a tone of modulated sweetness when he spoke of his sister. Yet his very gentleness must be the playfulness of a lion’s cub—there is such fire in his grand eyes, that reminded me of you, too. Oh, Magnus, do you know what I have been thinking of? what great music has been sounding its majestic harmony through my soul this morning as I journey by your side into the wilderness? Listen:

“Thy spirit, Independence, let me share,
Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye!
Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

“And I feel as if you were that very incarnate spirit of Independence, and I am sure that that boy was the worshiping disciple who was ready to follow you. And as for me, Magnus,” she continued, laughing, “there is such a superfluous amount of energy in my little body and soul this morning, that I feel as if I could not only brave and bear hardships and peril by your side, but should be disappointed if they did not come.”

“You have so much resistance, Elsie! but do not do with your wealth of energy as the prodigal son did with his wealth of money, spend it all at the outset; and, as an illustration of what I mean, put your hands within your cloak, and fold it closely around your chest—we are about to turn and face a sharp, if not a violent northwester, and after the sun is fully up you will see that it will blow harder,” said Magnus, as they turned the end of the street and entered the turnpike road.

It was a glorious winter day; the sun now arose in cloudless splendor, lighting up the snow-clad hills and plains and ice-spangled forest trees and bushes into flashing, dazzling radiance, while far away behind them dashed and sparkled the green waters of the Chesapeake, like a sea of molten emeralds.

Their road, after leaving the village, lay over the snowy hills and plains, and through the forest around the base of Mount Calm. In making the circuit they once came in full view of the front of the mansion house, and Elsie, seizing her husband’s arm, exclaimed:

“Magnus, tie your pocket-handkerchief at the end of your stick, and get up and wave it. I know that our beloved mother has been watching at that window for the last hour to see us pass. I know it, though it is too distant to see her distinctly; yet I think I see somebody there. Wave it, Magnus, and then we’ll know.”

Dr. Hardcastle stood up, lifted the impromptu flag on high, and presently the signal was returned by a white cloth waved from the window, and instantly withdrawn.

“She saw us, she saw us, Magnus! But stay! why didn’t she look out?”

“It would not have been safe on such a sharp morning as this for your mother to run her head out of the window in that bleak, exposed position,” said Magnus, repressing the various vague forebodings of his heart.

“I am afraid something has happened to mother, Magnus. Oh! indeed, I feel as if something had,” said Elsie anxiously.

“Nonsense, my love. I saw some of the gentlemen who were there last night until twelve, and who slept at the hotel, and one of them told me when I inquired, that all the family were well. However, Elsie, in driving around we will see some of the colored folks, and receive fresh assurance. Elsie, dear, it is solely on your mother’s account that I do not turn into the grounds and drive up to the mansion house now, and make a last effort at reconciliation with your father. I know, Elsie, that it would only subject her to a violent and perhaps fatal scene. I know, poor child, that it is a great trial to you to pass by your father’s house, bound for a long journey, and a new, strange life, without stopping to ask his blessing. Oh! I know it, my poor Elsie! but keep your courage; this is the sharpest, and it is also the last trial you shall have.”

“Oh, my courage is up,” said Elsie, dashing the sparkling tears from her eyes, and smiling out like an April sun from the clouds. “These, father, are the very last tears I am going to shed. No, indeed, won’t I weep, and make you sad for me, my dear Magnus! No, indeed, won’t I, for anybody’s cruelty and injustice!”

“Hush, hush, my darling! ‘The heart grows bitter by saying bitter things,’” said Magnus, kissing the dew-drops from her rosy cheek.

“Gee up, Dobbin! Make them gee up, Magnus,” said Elsie, poking at the mules with the point of her umbrella.

Magnus put whip to the animals, and they started afresh. Soon, in turning around toward the back of Mount Calm, they came to a group of negroes just starting to their work. Every man of them dropped his hat, and stood bowing, smiling, and grimacing at the sight of their young mistress. Magnus stopped the wagon.

“How are they all at the house, Uncle Bob?” he asked of the driver.

“All fus’ rate, sir! ’Deed dey is, Miss Elsie, honey.”

“Are you sure that mother is quite well, Bob?”

“’Deed, fus’ rate, Miss Elsie! ’Deed is her, honey!”

“How do you know, Uncle Bob? You never go to the house.”

“’Deed, honey, sister Milly told me; ’deed, honey, you needn’t be ’t all oneasy, nor likewise ’stress in your mind ’bout your ma! De madam is fus’ rate—’deed her is. Der wa’n’t nothin’ of no fuss, nuther, honey!—eberyting passed off quite quiet. Marse Iron he had some company las’ night, and ’joyed himself ’long o’ de gemmen very much.”

It is unnecessary to say that “Iron” was the negro corruption of Aaron, and not an unapt translation, either.

“And mother is well and cheerful?”

“High! what I tell you, Miss Elsie? Think I gwine to ax you a lie? De madam is fus’rate!”

“Thank Heaven, then! Here, Bob, here is a keepsake for you. It is a little prayer-book that I have carried in my pocket ever since I first left home for England. I held it in my hand when I was married, and I intended to carry it out West with me; but here, you shall have it. And, Bob, give my love to mother, and tell her that I am very happy—you hear, Bob?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And give her this letter also, Bob,” said Dr. Hardcastle, taking one ready sealed and directed from his pocket.

Then they took leave of the colored folks, shook hands with Uncle Bob, and started. Again Elsie called the driver back.

“Now, be sure to tell my dear mother that she must not have a thought or a care for me. Tell her I am very happy.”

“Yes, Miss Elsie; yes, honey; I’ll be sure to tell her—’deed, God A’mighty knows will I. Good-by! God bless you, Miss Elsie, and you, too, Marse Magnet! I wishes you both all the good luck in the worl’—’deed I does, children!—’deed, God A’mighty knows does I—I don’t care what ole marse say!”

And Uncle Bob hurried off after his staff of workmen, leaving the wagon pursuing its way.

Suddenly, with one of his impetuous bursts of emotion, Magnus threw his arms around the form of his bride, and drew her to his bosom, exclaiming:

“Oh, Elsie! every now and then I realize, with a sort of quick, sharp, almost mortal pang of joy, that you really are my wife! Oh, Elsie, my love! my child! there lives not a being on earth so happy as I! There lives not a creature in heaven so happy as I!”

And she sank upon his bosom, pale, faint, with excess of joy. The reins were loosed, the mules came to a standstill on the decline of the hill, when Elsie, with one of her sudden, healthful rebounds from the bathos of sentiment, sprang laughing up, and seizing the reins, exclaimed:

“Gee up, Dobbin! Magnus, why don’t you make them gee up? We shall not make our thirty miles to-day.”

Magnus took the reins from her hands, flourished the whip, and they set off in earnest, unmindful of a cynical old negro by the roadside, who, watching them as he bagged his snow-birds from the trap, said:

“The cussed infunnally young fools! I s’pose dey tink it always gwine be jes’ so! Gor A’mighty help ’em! Aar, Lor’! der troubles is all afore ’em, like young bearses!”

And they went on, happy, hopeful, confident, and justly confident; recalling the past with its childish pleasures, planning for the future, pointing out to each other familiar places in the forest, and spots associated with some childish reminiscence—now it was the very tree where Magnus first took her to gather chestnuts; now the very dell where he set traps to catch snow-birds for her; now the thicket where the wild rose-bushes bore so full in spring; now the glade that was red with strawberries in May; and so, talking and laughing, hoping and believing, billing and cooing, our pair of turtledoves pursued their Westerly flight.