Missis

“ for as Abbot said, in discussing the subject with Bessie when both sat sewing in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, and, as they thought, asleep, "Missis was, she dared say, glad enough to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-conditioned child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots underhand." ”

“ This morning, up gets my missis, and downstairs she comes to her breakfast in her sitting-room, and me with her to wait upon her, for sometimes her hands is shaky, and she prefers me to Perry or anybody else——"
"How has your mistress been lately?" interposed Miss Brightman.
[82]
"Better, ma'am. Not always quite the thing, though a deal better on the whole. But I must get on about this morning," added Hatch impressively. "'Waiter,' says my missis when the man brings up the coffee. 'Mum?' says he. ”

“ She rung the bell and requested Venus to bring her shawl. The obsequious dressing-maid laid it lightly on her shoulders, and holding out a white nubia of zephyr worsted, she said, "P'r'aps missis would like to war dis ere." She stood watching while her mistress twined the gossamer fabric round her head with careless grace. She opened the door for her to pass out on the veranda, and as she looked after her she muttered to herself, "She's a pooty missis ”

“ We shall win you to it, dear child; when you see what it is, your prejudice will wear away." [Pg 376]
"Prejudice!" cried Missy, passionately. "What is not prejudice? Yours and St. John's have cost me dear. Oh, mamma, how could you have had such an alien child? Why must we see everything in such a different light? You and St. John are always of one mind. I am shut out from you by such a wall. I am so lonely, so wretched, and perhaps you can't understand enough to pity me. Oh, mamma, you are all I have in the world! ”

“ Then Missy watched while her mother, with a look of more open suffering than was usual with her, leaned her head back upon the pillows, and pressed her hands silently together. "How pretty she is, poor mamma," she thought. "Every one admires her, though she is so faded and suffering. Beauty is a great gift," and then she began slowly to walk up and down, gazing in at the windows as she passed them, and looking at the picture framed by the hangings within. The light of the fire and the light of the lamp both fell on the reclining figure of her mother. ”

“ Missy saw all this, and much more, of their life, and wondered, as she lay on the lounge that had been brought for her into her mother's room. She saw and wondered, at the interested happy lives of the women in long black dresses, who came and went, in their gliding, silent way, in and out of her mother's room. She could not help seeing, that in the offices, to which the inevitable bell was always calling them, there was no monotony, not so much weariness as in the one-day-in-seven service in a country parish. ”

“ Missy did not know whether she liked the voice or not. She could only listen and wonder. It was an experience—something new come into her life. She felt, in an odd sort of way, how small her knowledge of people was; how much existed from which she had been shut out.
"I've lived among people just like myself all my life; it's contemptible," she thought. "No wonder I am narrow. A woman lives such a stupid life at home."
She sat down and talked with Mrs. Andrews. Mrs. Andrews! What a prosaic name for this exotic plant; as if one called a Fritallaria Imperialis a potato. ”

“ Patient doing of duty against the grain may be better than not doing duty at all, but it always writes a weary mark across the face. That mark which her mother's face had borne, ever since Missy could remember it, was gone.
Weary no doubt she often was, for her hand and brain were rarely idle now; but it was the healthy weariness that brings the sleep of the just, and wipes out toil with rest. Neither did Missy understand—how could she?—the bliss of those hours spent in the little gallery that overlooked the empty and silent church. ”

“ About this time Missy broke down, and had the first illness of her life. St. John came up to her, and brought one of the newly-imported Sisters to nurse her. She would have rebelled against this, if she had been in condition to rebel. She was not, however, and could only submit.
What is the use of going through her illness? We have most of us been ill, and know the dark rooms we are led through, and the hopelessness, and helplessness, and weariness ”

“ Varian put her hand over Missy's mouth; Miss Varian, annoyed by not being answered, went on with added sharpness:
"Goneril says the servants tell her all sorts of stories about the state of things between master and mistress in the house next door. I am afraid the poor man isn't to blame for snubbing her as he has done. ”

“ How is it that you do not perceive that it is not death, but life, that I have led you in to see? That I have shown you your brother, girded with a new strength, clothed with a new honor; set apart for the service of God forever. [Pg 170] Missy, he is not lost to us, dear, while we believe in the Communion of Saints."
"Mamma, I don't believe in it! I don't believe in anything. You have overthrown my faith. You have killed me."
"Listen to reason, Missy, if not to faith. St. John is happy; happier than I ever knew him, even as a child; he is happy, even in this time of transition and suspense. ”

“ You will find, too late, that you have not counted the cost; that you cannot bear the strain of feeling—a living death—a grave that the grass never grows over. Time can't heal a wound that is always kept open. You are mad, mamma, you are mad. We cannot bear this thing. Look at it, as you will when your enthusiasm cools."
"I have looked at it, Missy, for many months, through silent nights and days. It is no new thought to me. My dear, I have many lonely hours; I have much suffering, which abates enthusiasm. Through loneliness and suffering, I have had this thought for my companion. ”

“ Everything is new to me. St. John is going away; is going to make some important step, and yet is not going to a new parish, is not forsaking his vocation. How can you wonder I am puzzled?"
"He isn't forsaking his vocation; he is only following what he is very sure is his vocation in its highest, fullest sense."
"You don't mean," cried Missy, turning a startled face to her mother, "that St. John has got an idea that he is called to the religious life? Mamma, it isn't possible. ”

“ When you have spent thirty-four years in having your own way, and consulting your own pleasure quite exclusively, it comes a trifle hard to do exactly as you do not wish to do, and to find that pleasure is a term unknown in your vocabulary: when you are old that another should gird you and lead you whither you would not.
But the healthy and Christian surroundings of the home to which she came were not without their influence. Mrs. Varian's sweet endurance of her life-long suffering, St. John's healthy goodness, and Missy's vigorous duty-doing, helped her, against her will. ”

“ It began to dawn on Missy that he was going to be one of those men who are to preach from their hearts as well as from their brains; who are to bring out from their own soul's labor, food for the hungry souls about them. ”

“ Missy drew a long breath. She didn't care for Yellowcoats' gossip now, while she heard St. John's voice, and poured out her fretted soul in the prayers of her childhood. Perhaps she never knew how much she owed her brother, and those disapproved austerities of his. We do not always know what the saints win for us, nor how much the fuller we may be for our holy neighbor's empty stomach. And the children tumbled and twisted about on their seats, and Jay went to sleep, and Gabby eyed her neighbors, and Missy did not mind. ”

“ She was as gentle and as tender and as coaxing as if she were taking care of little Jay. It is a question how much sentiment a man in severe pain is capable of feeling. But certainly it ought to have been a solace to any one to be tended by such a sweet little nurse as this. Who would think that she could spit fire, or snub her neighbors, or "boss" it, even over servants?
Missy was a born nurse. She was quick-witted, nimble-fingered, sure-footed, and she was coaxing and tender when people were "down." ”

“ It is all very well to say, don't think of such things if you know you're doing right. It takes a very advanced saint not to mind what people think, and Missy, poor Missy, was not that. She longed to say her prayers, and felt she had never needed to say them more; but it was as if a thousand little devils, with as many little prongs, were busy in a swarm around her. To add to all her fretting thoughts, Aunt Harriet was particularly trying, Goneril was more audacious, the children were exasperating, even sitting still and in their Sunday clothes. ”

“ It seemed to her that it would be intolerable to watch out these hours of darkness and silence; she must penetrate them. She felt as if her solicitude and wretchedness would be half gone if the night were lifted, and the day come again. Ten o'clock struck—eleven—the outsiders, one by one, dropped off. There were left two or three men who had been hired by some of the gentlemen to watch the night out by the bonfire; Mr. Andrews' own man, the Varians' man, and Missy and Goneril. Eliza, the nurse, worn out and useless, had gone to bed. ”

“ An angry rebellion slowly awoke within her. It is safer to blame yourself than to blame fate. Poor Missy took the unsafest way, and went into the house, hardening her heart, and resisting the destiny that lay before her. ”

“ When she entered the parlor, St. John was sitting by his mother's sofa. "How is our young friend?" he said. "Remember I saved his life; so don't put on any airs because you got him to go home." [Pg 64]
"It was a great deal harder work," said Missy; "and you like hard work, you say. But, mamma, I have seen her, and she is the loveliest creature—Mrs. Andrews, I mean! She is confined to her room—never leaves it—a hopeless invalid. And he is a brute, an utter brute! I can hardly find words to describe him. He is short and stout, and has a most sinister expression. ”

“ It is scarcely possible to love life and see good days with the same zest after this sorrowful journey. It abates one's relish for enjoyment, it tempers one's thirst for present pleasures; it loosens one's hold upon things mundane. That is the certain good it does, and the uncertain, how infinite!
Poor Missy felt like a penitent child, after that illness of hers. ”

“ Missy smiled calmly, but said nothing. It always calmed her to see her step-aunt in a temper with Goneril: it gave her a feeling of superiority. She never would have endured the woman for a day, but she was quite willing her elder should, if she chose. The poor lady's blindness would have given every one a feeling of tenderness, if she had not been too sharp and petulant to permit any one to feel tender long. ”

“ Believe me, it is the subtle work of a crafty enemy; he cannot be contented with the common round, the daily task; he is not satisfied to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly; he must do some great thing."
"We shall see," said her mother, gently. "His vocation will be tested. You know it will be long before he is permitted to enter the order he has chosen. He may not be accepted."
"Not accepted!" cried Missy. "A man with money, influence, talent—Oh, we need not flatter ourselves. ”

“ He is undoubtedly sorry he broke their poor mother's heart, as sorry as such a stout, stolid thing can be, and he doesn't want the children to be drowned by the servants, or taught to swear or steal, just now, at any rate. He is willing to second our efforts to save [Pg 116] them. He will not oppose us, at any rate. You must acknowledge it wouldn't look well, if he did."
"Now, Missy, you are uncharitable."
"No, mamma; you are over-charitable; this plausible gentleman has so worked upon you. ”

“ Andrews that the nurse elect was any protegée of hers. But in certain crises the most virtuous of women will say what is not true.
At first Missy tried to repress Eliza's devotion to her, and not to listen to the details she insisted on giving of her daily life and trials; but it was too alluring to give advice, and to manage Jay by proxy; and after a month or two, Missy ruled as truly in the Andrews nursery as she did in her own home. She was not without influence, either, over the other servants in the widower's establish [Pg 179] ment. ”

“ Who does not know the eloquence, the passion, the transport? Who has not burned with shame at the poor reality; the blundering words, if they ever come to be spoken; the miserable contradiction of Fate, if the interview ever comes about?
There were but six days and nights for Missy to dream and hope about her reprieve, and she employed them well. She was white and languid-looking in the morning, but from the first sound of the knocker, the [Pg 352] first step heard upon the walk outside, a spot of color burned in her cheeks, and a strange glow shone from her light eyes. ”

“ Miss Princess—Missy's more formal adaptation of Young Doc's soubriquet for Helen Greenleaf in the days of his romance—was the most beautiful heroine imaginable. And the Wedding was next week, and Missy was to walk first of all the six flower-girls, and the Pink Dress was all but done, and the Pink Stockings—silk!—were upstairs in the third drawer of the high-boy! Oh, it was a golden world, radiant with joy. Of course—it's only earth, after all, and not heaven—she'd rather the bridegroom was going to be young Doc. ”

“ Then, after Aunt Nettie's, she planned one for Marguerite. Marguerite was the hired girl, mulatto, and had the racial passion for strong colour. So Missy conceived for her a creation that would be at once satisfying to wearer and beholder. How wonderful with one's own hands to be able to dispense pleasure! Missy, working, felt a peculiarly blended joy; it is a gratification, indeed, when a pleasing occupation is seasoned with the fine flavour of noble altruism. ”

“ They must have a feast, nothing else could take its place. So that afternoon she took a sudden resolution. She would make a sacrifice of her own feelings. She would go to the Andrews' cottage and give Jay his fête there.
"Do you think it's wise, Missy?" said her mother faintly.
"It's kind, at all events," returned Missy. "The poor baby is going to have hard times enough with the new cousins, it's but fair his last birthday without them should be festive. I've sent to have the children I'd invited for him come there. Now, don't look serious, mamma. One must not be always thinking of one's self. ”