Mark Gildersleeve Part 8

Noticing the horse-shoe over the fire-place, she inquired whether it were hung there to keep off witches, or for good-luck.

"Good-luck?--no, not exactly, although I shouldn't wonder if it had brought us good-luck. As for the witches, you see yourself it don't keep off the most dangerous kind--the young and beautiful ones," replied George, with an attempt to be gallant.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Gildersleeve; you're very flattering indeed," replied Edna with a smile.

"I wouldn't take five hundred dollars for that horse-shoe, Miss Heath,"

resumed George proudly.

"Indeed," said Edna.

"No, nor a thousand. That there shoe that you see there, came off Gineral George Was.h.i.+ngton's horse just afore he fought the great battle of Trenton. My grandfather shod him anew himself, and kept this old shoe. The forge was right here, and that chimney-stack was part of it.

That's the story, Miss Heath; and at that time your great-grandfather, old Whitman Obershaw, ran a saw-mill just along by the head of the rapids, ten rods beyond the foot-bridge, and I've heard my father say often enough that the old man was a pretty hard case, and tight about half the time."

Edna, though nettled and confused for a moment at these free reflections on her maternal ancestor, could not refrain from smiling at the unconcerned way in which they were imparted.

"To think how you've grown lately, Miss Heath," continued the blunt iron-master; "why, it seems to me but last week that you and Ada Mumbie and Judge Hull's granddaughter, were little bits of things, stopping, as you came from school with your arms full of books, to peep in at the foundry, half-scared, with your eyes as big as saucers. Well, time pa.s.ses, and things change, and the Works are different now from what they was then. We've enlarged them considerable. Have you been through them lately? No--well, would you like to go? Without bragging a great deal, I don't think we can be beat much in our line in the world."

George's world, by the bye, was bounded by New York and Trenton, and consisted chiefly of Belton.

Edna said she had been in Mr. Mumbie's paper-mill, and had been much interested, and thought she would like to see the Works, if convenient.

The establishment was a model one of its kind. In extent and completeness it had no superior, if a rival, in the country, and the owner took a justifiable pride in showing it. It covered several acres, and the buildings were fine ones of brick, with slate roofs, and some pretensions to architectural beauty. Gildersleeve led Edna first to a detached room well lighted, neat, and quiet as a boudoir, with a vine trailing over the gla.s.s roof. This was the engine-room, where tireless monsters of polished steel and bra.s.s, with gigantic fly-wheels and darting pistons, worked noiselessly and exactly as a chronometer, and enabled the proprietor to be consistently independent of the water-power if he chose.

Then they went to the foundry--a fearful place, where begrimed men, hideous in the glare of furnace flames, ran dragging pots of molten iron like Cyclops, while the ground trembled beneath the t.i.tanic blows of trip-hammers; next to the boiler-shop, where Edna was almost deafened; and to the machine-shop, a long room filled with whirling shafts, gearing, and lathes innumerable, where she was greatly amazed at the wonderful planes that sliced off glossy ribbons of steel, and the powerful shears and punches that cut the tough metal like pasteboard.

Edna was much impressed by what she saw. She was struck with the many evidences around her of human skill and power. The admirable adaptation and complete control of superhuman forces seemed to her sublime, and she wondered that the presiding genius of such a marvellous palace of art could be the ordinary mortal beside her. Had Edna been an older judge of human nature, she would have discovered that George Gildersleeve was anything but an ordinary man. True, he was uneducated, rough, overweeningly vain, without tact; his fibre coa.r.s.e and vigorous as a buffalo's, but his tenacity of will, love of order, vigilance, and business shrewdness were remarkable, and capable of conquering success in almost any department of life. His vigilance and love of order had not escaped Edna's notice, for as they went along, she remarked that his searching glances were directed everywhere, and she was amused to see him pick up a nail from the floor, and at another time reprimand an apprentice severely because a small bit of cotton waste had been left on the bright oil-cloth of the engine-room.

"Who suggested the name of your Works, Mr. Gildersleeve?" said Edna.

"Oh! that was Mark's notion. When we rebuilt them, I wanted to name them the George Was.h.i.+ngton Works, but I concluded that that would be too personal, so I let Mark have his own way, and he named them after Archy Medes. This Archy Medes was an engineer of ancient times, who discovered something in a bath-tub, I don't exactly remember what, but Mark can tell you if you want to know. There he is over there. See him, Miss Heath?"

They were in the finis.h.i.+ng-shop at the time, and George pointed to the farther end, where Mark was, but with his back towards them so that Edna had not recognized the young man. He was standing with his coat off and a plan in his hand, giving directions to a group of workmen.

"He's setting up an improved lathe for driving wheels--a new idea of his own," explained George.

Edna stood watching Mark. He was very intently occupied moving hither and thither, now stooping and scrutinizing, then, with rolled-up sleeves, dexterously wielding hammer and chisel. His dark, delicate features reflected the keen concentrated play of the faculties, and revealed an expression of intellectual beauty that Edna had not before noticed. She thought she had never seen so handsome a young man. Mark unconsciously had made a more favorable impression in his homely guise than he ever could have done in a ball-room. At length he perceived her, and could not repress a look of confusion. Giving a few orders to the workmen, he drew on his coat and came forward to meet Edna with an embarra.s.sed air.

"An unexpected pleasure, Miss Heath," he said, with a feeble attempt to be distant in accordance with the n.o.ble resolves he had recorded.

"The pleasure is with me, I'm certain, for I've been very much delighted and instructed. I know all about locomotives, and steam, and boilers, and I am indebted for it all to your brother, who was kind enough to invite me to see the Works, and explain everything. But I am very much afraid that I have interrupted you."

"A very pleasant interruption; for it's so seldom we are favored with the presence of ladies here, that we appreciate their visits correspondingly," replied Mark gallantly. Her pleasant, winning way had disarmed him completely, and he was at her mercy at once. Edna then bid the brothers good-by, remarking that she had tarried too long and must return home.

Of course Mark begged to be permitted to escort her, as evening was approaching, to which request she graciously a.s.sented. The most attractive trait, perhaps, in our heroine's character was her frankness of speech and manner proceeding from a nature singularly free from affectation. We say singularly, as it is well known that the best of our young ladies are not entirely exempt from little artificial airs and graces especially, if like the subject of these remarks, they occupy a position in society somewhat a.n.a.logous to that of a duke's daughter among gentry. This artlessness was the more remarkable in the child of a family noted for its intense pride and pretensions. Edna was the exception; simple in her tastes, and ignoring the deference conceded to wealth to an extent that would have amazed her father, could he have spared enough attention from state affairs to study his daughter's character. Naturally, when a young lady of position remains unimpressed by people's purses, and is as courteous to the poor as to the rich, she cannot fail to become a favorite with all; and it is no wonder that the master of the Archimedes Works remarked to Gregg, the old book-keeper, after she was gone, that if he were a young man seeking a wife, she'd be just the girl he'd pick out, and that Gregg said she would be his choice too; nor that Knatchbull, the foreman, concurred, and added, that she was a "natty la.s.s," to which George said, "That's so, and thorough-bred," and told Gregg to make a minute to remind him to send one of his "carts," a three-quarter face, to the young lady, as he had promised, and wouldn't disappoint her for the world.

Meanwhile Mark and Edna were walking on in silence towards the street that led to the latter's home; Mark, in his elation, scarcely knowing how to broach the conversation. Finally he recollected that it would be in order to thank Edna for the invitation she had sent him, and he did so, expressing his great regret at not having been able to avail himself of it, and his appreciation of the intended compliment.

"I think you would have enjoyed yourself," said Edna, "for I believe they all did. There were quite a number of charming young ladies present. Some of them, I think, you would have been pleased to meet."

"Name them, if you please?"

"Well--Miss Carver, from Boston, for one; pretty, accomplished--"

"And wealthy?"

"Pray, why do you ask such a question?"

"Is not that the supreme attraction?"

"What a sentiment for a poet! Do you know, Mr. Gildersleeve; that I never fail to read your verses in the _Sentinel_?"

"Do you, really? You are a true friend, indeed, Miss Heath, to sacrifice yourself to that extent. What an exertion it must be!"

"Indeed, I think some of them very nice. Mr. Abbott, who prides himself on his literary taste, endeavored to be very witty criticising some of your poetry, but Aunt Susan--that's Mrs. Applegate--Mercedita, and I defended you with our utmost ability, and we three decided that it was very nice indeed," said Edna earnestly.

Mark thought that "very nice indeed" was not exactly the verdict he craved, nor were Aunt Susan and Mercedita critics whose judgment would likely bias public opinion, and be considered final. Edna's good opinion was certainly worth having, however; and as for the Rev. Mr. Abbott's attempts at facetiousness, they were undoubtedly prompted by jealousy, and to say the least of it, were very unbecoming in one of his profession, and a disgrace to the cloth.

"Mr. Abbott, though, is a very fine reader," continued Edna, "but I must say I have not a very great opinion of his taste. Would you believe it, he is forever reciting 'Airy, fairy Lillian,' and says it's the finest thing Tennyson ever wrote? Now I think it's very flat, don't you?"

Mark agreed with her, and said it was very flat, very flat indeed. She certainly has taste, thought he, great critical ac.u.men, but I wish she wouldn't call my verses nice.

"You must know," said Edna, who talked on unreservedly, "I'm a very romantic girl in spite of my matter-of-fact way, and read every bit of poetry I come across. In saying that I don't mean to disparage your productions, for as I said, I think some of them real nice and pretty.

It may be that my opinion is not worth much, but one piece I read lately struck me as being full of beautiful ideas and similes. I mean those lines addressed to 'Eunomia,' the 'violet-engarlanded' person in 'purple cincture,' who, 'enthroned in the propylon of the temple of Fate, sweeps the lyre with skilful plectrum.' I believe that's the image, is it not?"

"I am afraid you are disposed to amuse yourself by ridiculing my poor efforts," said Mark, puzzled to know whether she were in earnest or not.

"Oh dear me, no. I haven't wit enough to be ironical, and am therefore always compelled to be downright and blunt. Do you know, too, that my ignorance is such that I had to look in the dictionary to find out what plectrum and propylon meant. Do, please, the next time you use such hard words, add explanatory notes at the foot, and oblige all such unlearned people as I."

She said this with a bantering smile that again perplexed Mark and set him reflecting. Now the shortest way to the Cliff was to turn off at Mill Street, which led to the foot-bridge over the falls; but when they came to the corner of that street, instead of turning off Edna kept on, taking the longer way home, and thus prolonging the walk, from which circ.u.mstance Mark augured favorably. At least, thought he, she is not tired of my company as yet. Their promenade took them across the public square, a pretentious little triangle of gra.s.s-plats inclosed by posts and chains. At one end of this park fronted a fine large old mansion, whose low eaves, broad heavily-panelled door, and ponderous bra.s.s knocker denoted work of the last century. It was the homestead of the Hull family, and on the door-jambs were still visible hacks made by the sabres of Knyphausen's Hessians. Mark and his companion had just pa.s.sed the house when the old Judge came out on the porch to look at the thermometer hanging by the side of his door. How could he fail to notice the youthful couple? Old as he was, and long past the age of frivolity, they interested him, and he stood contemplating the pair until they were out of his sight. As he turned to reenter the house he gave a sigh of regret. How barren seemed all his fame and honors! He would have bartered them all for the return of one hour of the sweet hallucinations of youth so irrevocably pa.s.sed away. Meanwhile our young people continued their discussion on poetry in general, and Mark's productions in particular, until the young man, a.s.suming a serious expression, said, "You were speaking about the lines to Eunomia. As regards the spirit or intention in which they are composed, I must certainly be credited at least with sincerity. Every line, every thought is an exponent of the author's feelings. They may be awkward, inelegant, or halting, but the words are nevertheless the earnest utterances of the heart."

All this was said fervently, and Edna replied: "I haven't any doubt of it at all. You poets all have some ideal lady-love, I believe, gifted with every possible quality; some ethereal paragon whom you never permit to touch the earth; consequently, I presume you are very much dissatisfied with young ladies as you find them."

"Permit me to say you are much mistaken. My verses were addressed to no imaginary being. Eunomia lives and breathes."

"Indeed! why, now that you have so excited my curiosity, I am afraid I shall not rest satisfied until I learn who this interesting damsel is--this purple-cinctured Eunomia."

"I can gratify you in that respect very readily, if you wish it."

"Well--but--I wouldn't for the world be indiscreet. If it's perfectly permissible. Otherwise, let me remain in ignorance, please." She said this hesitatingly, as if perhaps she had gone too far; or was it Mark's admiring gaze that embarra.s.sed her? For the young man seemed to be oblivious of all but the being beside him, and who could blame him? for Edna, animated by the walk and conversation, looked more beautiful than ever. She wore a round hat wreathed about with a blue veil which contrasted charmingly with her fair complexion, and the satin sheen of her l.u.s.trous blonde hair. Mark watched the blithe face, and endeavored to a.n.a.lyze, and impress its beauty indelibly on his memory. What charmed him most was the virginal grace of lips and chin, the pure cheek, and the exquisite contour of the slender white throat. So absorbed was he in his admiration, that the promenade seemed to him incredibly short, in spite of the circuit they had made, for the entrance to Mr. Heath's residence was now near at hand. It was time to part. "I am hesitating," said he, "whether to reveal--if you will not think me presumptuous--after all, no one is better ent.i.tled to know the name of the one addressed as 'Eunomia,' than you."

"No one better ent.i.tled to know than I?" repeated Edna, as a sudden enlightenment suffused her face with a blush.

"No one; for Eunomia is but another name for Edna. Forgive me, if in seeking for inspiration from your beauty and goodness, I have been too bold in my admiration; but Edna," he added, taking her hand and gazing at her with appealing ardor, "I have loved you so long and earnestly!"

She lowered her eyes at this declaration, but her hand lingered in his.

There was n.o.body near; he pressed her hand gently to his lips, when she quickly withdrew it, and with a bow, disappeared through the gateway.

Mark stood for a moment as if amazed at his audacity, and then, joyful and happy, walked away as if treading on air, bewitched by the delightful antic.i.p.ations of newly implanted hope. Sweet antic.i.p.ation!

How full art thou of brilliant illusions and blissful glamour! And yet, without thee, what an insupportable burden would life become! Precious Jack-o'-lantern, that transports the lover, nerves the warrior, cheers the student, and inspires poet and painter!