Chapter XXXI: Nettie in the Mansion

She shall dwell in lordly houses, with gardens all about,
And servants to attend her when she goes in and out;
She’ll have music for the hearing, and pictures for the eye,
And exquisite and costly things each sense to gratify.
_—Howitt._

Very early on the morning of the 2d of January, while yet the level rays of the newly-risen sun were projecting golden lines of light aslant the snow-covered earth, the traveling carriage of General Garnet passed through Huttontown on its way to the beach to take in Miss Joe and little Nettie, who were that day to leave their island home.

At the same hour Miss Joe was bustling over her last preparations at the isle. The simple furniture was to be safely stowed away and left in the house; the most valuable portion of their personal effects was to be transported to Mount Calm at more leisure; her own and Nettie’s clothing was packed into a chest ready to be taken away.

Hugh’s bundle was made up and slung at the end of a stick across his shoulder. The boy certainly looked the most hopeful and happy of the three.

“Dear Hugh, you do just ’mind me of Jack in the fairy tale, going to seek his fortune,” said Nettie, gazing at him with admiration.

Nettie herself was wild with joy and expectation. Scarcely had she slept or ate since the noted visit of her godfather. How could she? All the fairy tales she had ever read in her life were about to be realized in her own person; she was Cinderella, going in splendid style to the royal palace, to be married to the king’s son; she was Beauty, who had just discovered the Beast to be a handsome, powerful prince, who was going to make a princess of her; or, if not literally so, her dreams were equally fanciful and extravagant. But how different was the reality, poor Nettie! more fairy-favored as wood-sprite in the forest wild, or water-nymph in her sea-girt isle than ever as heiress of the millionaire in the cold magnificence of Mount Calm.

The last thing Miss Joe did was to put out the fire and dress Nettie in a little cloak of scarlet country cloth, made with a hood to go over her head.

At which Nettie, with many extravagant capers, declared herself to be Little Red Riding Hood in person.

When all was done and the house locked up, the three took their way down the solitary footpath through the snow to the water’s edge.

Hugh had already cleaned out the boat, and they all got into it. Hugh took the oar. The water was very smooth, the current in their favor, and in twenty minutes the boy landed his charge safely upon the beach.

The carriage of General Garnet was in waiting.

Miss Joe and Nettie were handed in by Hugh, and then the boy put in his hand to bid them a sorrowful good-by.

Miss Joe burst into tears, sobbed aloud, told Hugh if he should not find his place as shop-boy at Mr. Fig’s grocery pleasant to let her know and she would go right back to Hutton’s Isle, and they two would work together and see better times when the warm weather should come.

Nettie, for her part, much as she loved Hugh, could not cry. She had read too many fairy tales not to know how her own ought to end; and so Nettie felt perfectly assured that by some dénouement at Mount Calm every wish of her heart must be accomplished, most especially the dearest wish of all, that of having her playmate always with her. So they took leave. Hugh struck into a by-path, and walked off briskly toward the store of Mr. Fig. And the carriage rolled on up through the main street of the village and out over the country road that led over the snow-covered hills and through the hollow to Mount Calm.

Arrived at Mount Calm they were met by General Garnet, who, receiving little Nettie in his arms, pressed her fondly and carried her into the house, followed by Miss Joe. Here, in the hall, he delivered the little girl to the charge of a neatly-dressed “ladylike” mulatto girl with a gray Madras turban on her head and a pair of heavy gold hoops in her ears, telling her to take Miss Seabright to the chamber lately occupied by Miss Garnet, and to prepare her for the breakfast table.

“And what’s your name?” asked Nettie, looking up with curiosity at the gay mulatto.

“Nettie, my darling, she is Hero, your maid,” said General Garnet.

Hero took the hand of the child and was about to lead her up the great staircase, when Nettie suddenly broke from her, and, exclaiming, interrogatively: “This way?” sprang up the stairs like a squirrel.

Hero tripped after her, overtook her on the landing, and gently took her hand, saying:

“Miss Seabright, young ladies oughtn’t to romp through a quiet house, and race upstairs in that manner.”

“I know young ladies oughtn’t to, but I am a little gal.”

“You are a little lady, and should act like one. But here is your chamber, Miss Seabright,” said Hero, opening the door of Elsie’s beautiful room.

“Oh, how—how grand!” exclaimed Nettie, breaking from her maid, springing into the midst of the apartment, and standing gazing, speechless with admiration upon the splendor—for such they were to her—of the furniture.

The French paper on the walls, with its pretty pattern of wild rose vines climbing up gilded pillars and forming into arches: the carpet on the floor, chosen to match, with wild rose vines running over a white ground; the pink damask and white muslin curtains of the windows, that suffused the whole chamber with a soft, roseate light; the rosewood dressing bureau standing between these two windows, with its tall mirror and marble top, and elegant ornaments of porcelain, pearl and gold; the rosewood bedstead, standing in the opposite recess, with its white-embossed counterpane, and rich valance, all softly shaded by hanging curtains of pink damask, like those of the windows; the wardrobe, with its mirror doors, occupying the side to the left of the chimney; the marble-top table, with its elegant trifles—a work-box of mother-of-pearl and gold, a standish of ebony, inlaid with ivory, a portfolio, books, etc.; the work-stand of satinwood; the luxurious sofa, chair, and ottoman, covered with rose-colored cut velvet to suit the draperies; the polished steel grate; with its silver mounting, and marble mantelpiece, with its ormolu clock, vases, statuettes, medallions, etc.; lastly, the paintings, few, but admirable, though attractive to Nettie chiefly upon account of the massive and richly-gilded frames.

Introducing Nettie into that elegant, luxurious chamber was like letting a monkey loose in a fancy-shop. For a moment she stood shading her eyes with her hand, as she would have done in looking upon a dazzling winter landscape, gazing transfixed with surprise; and then she ran hither and thither, seized this and that, upset an inkstand, seized a porcelain bottle by its stopper, letting the other part fall and break; knocked down an elegant dressing-case, splitting off its pearl corners, and spilling all its contents; jumping up into one of the beautiful chairs and standing on it; snatched a statuette of Thalia from the mantelpiece, and, calling it a doll-baby, declared she would make it a red petticoat and give it the name of Dolly.

All this was the work of a minute, for then Hero went and took her hand again, and said:

“Come, Miss Seabright, all these pretty things are yours, but you must learn to handle them carefully, so as not to break and destroy them. Come, now, I have to get you ready for breakfast. You are to eat breakfast with the general. Come, let me wash your face and comb your hair.”

“No, indeed, you aint a-goin’ to wash my face and comb my hair. I’ve washed my own face and combed my own hair ever since I can remember, and I aint a-goin’ to let anybody else do it now.”

“Well, then, you do it; and here is such a pretty blue dress of princess cloth, all trimmed with black braid; and here is a black silk apron and a nice lace tucker, and silk mits, and a tortoise-shell long comb to keep your curls back, and here is a pair of black morocco boots, see!”

“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed the child admiringly, as she hastened with her ablutions.

When Nettie was arrayed in her new dress she scarcely permitted her maid to tie the last thing, or turn the last long ringlet behind the comb, before she sprang from under her hands and fled downstairs to “show godfather and granny how she looked dressed like a lady.”

As Nettie sprang into the presence of her guardian he arose and walked toward her, took her hand gently, and told her that little girls must walk and not jump and skip through the rooms of a house. Then he led her into the breakfast room, where Miss Joe was already installed at the head of the table, attended by a “genteel” waiter. General Garnet seated his ward and took his own place. Hero now made her appearance and stood by her little mistress. But Nettie’s eyes were wandering from the elegancies of the breakfast table, with its damask tablecloth, fine napkins, Sevres china service, etc., to the superb sideboard, with its splendid array of cut-glass and silver plate; and from the rich Turkey carpet to the wonderful paper hangings of the walls that showed the city of Paris by morning light. And Nettie’s maid had several times to remind her that little ladies did not stare about, but ate their breakfast prettily, before she could withdraw her attention from the new glories around her and fix it upon her breakfast.

But before the meal was half over Nettie had sprung up and bounded out of the room in search of more novelties. The hall, the library and the picture-gallery, the parlor and the drawing room, the saloon and the conservatory—all on the first floor—were in turn invaded and overhauled by the eager, impetuous child. Then all the chambers on the second floor were visited and ransacked. And then the indefatigable little explorer made for the attic, and besieged the doors of the locked-up rooms there. Through all these runnings and ramblings Hero followed her, telling her that little ladies should not do this, or that, or the other.

When night came, a little tired with her incessant running, and a little fretted and dispirited with the ceaseless accompaniment of her maid’s tuitions and fault-finding, Nettie went into the library, where her guardian sat luxuriating in his easy-chair at a table covered with books and papers before a fine fire.

Nettie was too tired to notice the elegant and luxurious appointments of General Garnet’s favorite retreat; the superb book-cases at intervals along the walls; the rare and costly statues, busts, and oil-paintings; the tables laden with prints and articles of virtu; the easy-chairs, sofas, and foot-cushions; the deep, soft carpet, “stealing all noises from the feet”; the heavy damask curtains, excluding all cold air, and the splendid chandeliers pendant from the ceiling and diffusing through their stained glass shades a rich, warm, and glowing light throughout the apartment. Nettie sauntered straight up to General Garnet, climbed upon his knees, and threw her head and arms languidly upon his bosom.

“Tired, my little Nettie?”

“Oh, very tired, godfather, indeed. Take me in your arms and rock me back and forward, as Hugh does.”

“You must forget Hugh and the isle, and the lodge, and all your infantile life, little Nettie. You are going to be a young lady, and some day you may feel mortified if anyone reminded you of these things.”

“But I think it would be wicked to forget them, godfather, and indeed I won’t forget them, either,” said Nettie, lifting herself from her resting-place.

General Garnet saw his error. If he wished Nettie to forget her past life, companions, and occupations, he must never remind her of them. If she spoke of them, he must not keep her mind fixed upon the subject even by opposing it. He must draw her attention to something else. Reaching out his hand, drawing a book of colored prints up before him, and opening it, he said:

“You have a great deal of curiosity, little Nettie. Here are views taken on the Mediterranean; pictures of strange places and old cities, which I will tell you about. But as I do not wish to talk to a listless hearer, you must first tell me when you see a picture that interests you, and question me about anything that excites your curiosity, and then I shall know that I am speaking to an attentive pupil.”

Nettie kissed her guardian rapturously, and, still sitting on his knees, bent forward and eagerly turned over the leaves of the folio, until a view on the coast of Greece arrested her attention, and, pausing upon it, she caressed her guardian and claimed the explanation. General Garnet was absorbed in the description and history of this plate, and Nettie was listening eagerly, when the front door-bell was heard to ring. General Garnet ceased talking, and raised his head and listened. Nettie pressed her lips to his and listened, too. The library door opened; a servant entered, and announced:

“Dr. Hardcastle!”

“Show Dr. Hardcastle in,” said General Garnet, gathering Nettie closely to his bosom with one arm, resting the other hand upon the table, and elevating his head and Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn. A minute passed, and then the door opened again, and Magnus Hardcastle, still clothed in his rough emigrant suit, entered the library, walked down its length, and stood face to face with General Garnet.