A Little Girl in Old Salem by Amanda Minnie Douglas (most important books to read .txt) 📖

and when they were at Hong Kong or other ports. But the Indian girls pleased her best.

The sailors seemed always full of fun, even in the worst of times. During some fearful storms she was safely housed in the cabin, and it amused her to see the things pitch and roll as far as their chains would allow them. Sometimes, too, they had to hold the food in their hands, but she never knew the danger of the worst storms. Rachel would not admit that she was afraid, and the captain said, "Yes, we're having a stiff blow, but the _Flying Star_ has weathered many a gale before." And here it was so very quiet. It looked dreary outside, with the leafless trees. She liked the toss and tumult of the waves with their snowy, jewelled crests, and the clouds scudding along the sky, which she imagined was another sea full of ships. Often they went in port and there was nothing left but the blue sky above--a great hollow vault. And when the sun shone the real sea and ocean was in flames of such splendid colors. There was no end of curious people at ports where they stopped for supplies, there was always something strange, even when they were days alone on the water. For the sunset and sunrise were never twice alike. Then the moon from its tiny crescent to the great round globe that illumined the world with her fairy richness and scattered jewels on every crested wave. She had watched it turn the other way and grow smaller and smaller until you saw it vaguely in the morning.

She was so interested in the stories they told about it, the signs and wonders they ascribed to it.

"And was it ever a real world like that we have left behind?" she asked of the captain. "Were there people in it? And land, and rivers, and growing things, and flowers?" and her wondering eyes grew larger.

"No one can tell now. Some astronomers believe it a burned-out world and the things we take for a man," laughing, "and the cow ready to jump off, are remnants of roads, and forests, and mountains."

"You _can_ see the man in the moon," she returned decisively. "Sometimes he laughs. And the cow has great horns. I should be afraid of them if I met such a cow. Ours are so small and tame."

"You will see large ones in Salem. But I think, for the most part, they are gentle."

She never wearied talking over the strange things. And so she came to have her head filled with wonderful lore that indeed cropped out now and then all her life long until she felt as if she had really been in fairyland.

It seemed stranger here than on shipboard. The others were going through the ceremony of getting acquainted. Rachel Winn's voice had a soft sound, with an almost foreign accent. Eunice's, though low-pitched, had a clear resonance. Now and then Chilian Leverett made a comment, or asked a question, but she was not heeding them. Her heart and mind had wandered back to her father and that wonderful land where nothing ever seemed bleak, though in long hot droughts it was arid. But there were always temples, and palaces, and picturesque huts, and women and children in gay attire, old men kneeling somewhere, praying but keeping a sharp lookout for alms.

Chilian Leverett had been watching the small face and wondering at the changes passing over it. Now he saw some tears slowly coursing down the pale cheeks, and his heart was moved with infinite pity.

Suddenly a robin alighted on the limb of a tree and began picking at the buds. Then he held his head up straight, swelled out his brownish red breast, and poured forth such a volume of melody that the effort fairly made him dance with joy. Spring had surely come! It was the time of love and joy, and all things made over new.

She turned a trifle. Her face was transfigured with delight. Her eyes shone, though the tears were still wet on her cheek.


CHAPTER III

A STRANGER, YET AT HOME

Rachel Winn settled herself to the new order of things more readily than the Leveretts. Or rather she seemed to take the lead in arrangements for herself and her charge. She was after all a sort of nurse and waiting-maid, though she had a fine dignity about it that even Elizabeth could not gainsay. She was to be one of the family, there could be no objection to that in the simple New England living. Though it was true, times were changing greatly since the days of war and privation, and perhaps the mingling of people from other states, the growing responsibility of being part of a great commonwealth. Servants were being relegated to a different position. Boston in a certain fashion set the pace, though Salem held up her head proudly. Were not her seaports the busy mart of the Eastern shore? Stores of finery, silks and laces, and marvellous Indian embroidery went down to Boston and the houses were enriched with choice china that in the next hundred years was to be handed down as heirlooms. Fine houses were being built, choice woods came from southern ports by vessels that believed they could find fortunes nearer home than China or India. But they could grow no spices, or coffees, or teas, and they must come from the Orient. No looms could turn out such exquisite fabrics as yet, though housewives were to be proud of their home-made drapery for a generation or two.

Chilian spent a large part of that first night inspecting his box of papers. There was a journal-like letter in which Anthony Leverett had jotted down many things he hardly dared say in his letter; indeed, there was not sufficient space. As soon as he had learned the serious nature of his disease, he had begun to put his house in order and consider the future welfare of his child. Some lines touched Chilian deeply, the trust and dependence he was not at all sure he could fulfil, but he felt he _must_ rouse himself to the earnest endeavor. The father had a passionate love for his child, he was making a fortune for her, counting the years when he should return and have a home of his own, when Cynthia would grow up and marry and there would be grandchildren to climb his knees. India was no place for a woman child to grow up in, there were no chances for education or accomplishment, and next to no society. After all there was not, and never would be, such a country as the new world that had struggled so long and bravely for her independence, and now had only to go on developing her grand theories. Crowned heads might look on doubtingly, but the foundation had been laid in justice and truth and equality of right. It quite thrilled him that this man, amassing money in a far-away land, could see so clearly and have no doubts about its future greatness.

To Captain Corwin, his good, trusty friend, he had willed half the value of the _Flying Star_. The money from his part was to be invested, as the payments came in, in real estate in Salem, which was to be the shipping mart of the New England coast, at least, and run a race with New York, he thought. So with the stations at Calcutta and Hong Kong in the hands of the Bannings. And there were treasures that would answer for a wedding dowry when the time came. If possible, he would like Rachel Winn retained; he had the highest confidence in her, and she had no relatives to call her back to England. He had given her much of the family history, and described the town and the people, so that it would not seem so new and strange to her.

He was not asking all this as a favor. Chilian was touched by the provision made for himself, which it would be quite impossible to decline, he saw. True it would break in upon his leisurely, student life, yet he felt he could not in honor refuse to accept the trust.

Rachel Winn studied the arrangements of the rooms at their disposal. Her young mistress was not a child taken out of benevolence or relationship. She must have her standing from the very beginning, and she fancied Elizabeth was inclined to consider her a sort of interloper.

"If it makes no difference, I will take the small room," she announced to her. "There are some pieces of furniture on the vessel that Captain Leverett particularly wished her to keep, and as she grows older she will cherish them----"

"That great room for such a child!" In her amazement, Elizabeth spoke without thought. She was not used to seeing children set in the very forefront. In her day, indeed, yet in some families the large open garret was considered the place for children.

"You see, she was used to it at home--over there, I mean;" with a nod of the head. "Her father's room was one side, mine on the other. Of course, in a way I shall share it with her. I will keep it in order and look after her clothes, and sew for her. But I prefer the smaller one."

Elizabeth was aghast. One of the best spare chambers, with the furnishings that had come from England a hundred years before. On the other side she and Eunice shared a plainly appointed room with some of their very own belongings. There was still another, but the closet was small. She had asked Chilian where they should be placed and he had chosen this. It was his house, of course----

Whether it would have ended in a discussion could not to be told, for at that moment a dray drove up with some boxes and a piece of furniture so wrapped and protected that it was quite impossible to guess at its name.

Chilian came out and ran lightly down the stairs; and then called Elizabeth.

"Where had the boxes better go? They will have to be unpacked, I suppose;" helplessly.

"There are more to come," announced the man. "Enough to set up housekeeping, if the right sort of things are in them;" and he gave a short laugh.

Miss Winn came downstairs. "Isn't there a garret to the house?" she asked, looking from one to the other. "I packed them up, but I can hardly tell----"

"Yes; we could store half the vessel's contents in it. Well, not exactly that. A ship's hold is a capacious place. Yes, the boxes might go there. Have you any idea what this is?"

"A sort of desk and bookcase. A very handsome thing the captain set great store by."

The men shouldered the boxes and Elizabeth convoyed them. Silas was spading up the garden and came at the call.

It was a work of some labor to get the article out of its secure casings. It disclosed a very handsome piece of furniture in the escritoire style, carved and inlaid not only with beautiful woods, but much silver. Chilian surveyed it with admiration.

"That must stand in the parlor," he decided. "But some one must come and help. I'm afraid I am not sufficiently robust. Silas, see if you can't find the Uphams' man. He was working there a short time ago."

"If there's more to come, it is hardly worth while to clear up," began Elizabeth. "I hope it will soon follow."

Chilian directed the two men, who found it still quite a