Anne's House of Dreams Read online

  CHAPTER 7

  THE SCHOOLMASTER'S BRIDE

  "Who was the first bride who came to this house, Captain Jim?" Anneasked, as they sat around the fireplace after supper.

  "Was she a part of the story I've heard was connected with this house?"asked Gilbert. "Somebody told me you could tell it, Captain Jim."

  "Well, yes, I know it. I reckon I'm the only person living in FourWinds now that can remember the schoolmaster's bride as she was whenshe come to the Island. She's been dead this thirty year, but she wasone of them women you never forget."

  "Tell us the story," pleaded Anne. "I want to find out all about thewomen who have lived in this house before me."

  "Well, there's jest been three--Elizabeth Russell, and Mrs. NedRussell, and the schoolmaster's bride. Elizabeth Russell was a nice,clever little critter, and Mrs. Ned was a nice woman, too. But theyweren't ever like the schoolmaster's bride.

  "The schoolmaster's name was John Selwyn. He came out from the OldCountry to teach school at the Glen when I was a boy of sixteen. Hewasn't much like the usual run of derelicts who used to come out toP.E.I. to teach school in them days. Most of them were clever, drunkencritters who taught the children the three R's when they were sober,and lambasted them when they wasn't. But John Selwyn was a fine,handsome young fellow. He boarded at my father's, and he and me werecronies, though he was ten years older'n me. We read and walked andtalked a heap together. He knew about all the poetry that was everwritten, I reckon, and he used to quote it to me along shore in theevenings. Dad thought it an awful waste of time, but he sorter enduredit, hoping it'd put me off the notion of going to sea. Well, nothingcould do THAT--mother come of a race of sea-going folk and it was bornin me. But I loved to hear John read and recite. It's almost sixtyyears ago, but I could repeat yards of poetry I learned from him.Nearly sixty years!"

  Captain Jim was silent for a space, gazing into the glowing fire in aquest of the bygones. Then, with a sigh, he resumed his story.

  "I remember one spring evening I met him on the sand-hills. He lookedsorter uplifted--jest like you did, Dr. Blythe, when you broughtMistress Blythe in tonight. I thought of him the minute I seen you.And he told me that he had a sweetheart back home and that she wascoming out to him. I wasn't more'n half pleased, ornery young lump ofselfishness that I was; I thought he wouldn't be as much my friendafter she came. But I'd enough decency not to let him see it. He toldme all about her. Her name was Persis Leigh, and she would have comeout with him if it hadn't been for her old uncle. He was sick, andhe'd looked after her when her parents died and she wouldn't leave him.And now he was dead and she was coming out to marry John Selwyn.'Twasn't no easy journey for a woman in them days. There weren't nosteamers, you must ricollect.

  "'When do you expect her?' says I.

  "'She sails on the Royal William, the 20th of June,' says he, 'and soshe should be here by mid-July. I must set Carpenter Johnson tobuilding me a home for her. Her letter come today. I know before Iopened it that it had good news for me. I saw her a few nights ago.'

  "I didn't understand him, and then he explained--though I didn'tunderstand THAT much better. He said he had a gift--or a curse. Themwas his words, Mistress Blythe--a gift or a curse. He didn't knowwhich it was. He said a great-great-grandmother of his had had it, andthey burned her for a witch on account of it. He said queerspells--trances, I think was the name he give 'em--come over him nowand again. Are there such things, Doctor?"

  "There are people who are certainly subject to trances," answeredGilbert. "The matter is more in the line of psychical research thanmedical. What were the trances of this John Selwyn like?"

  "Like dreams," said the old Doctor skeptically.

  "He said he could see things in them," said Captain Jim slowly.

  "Mind you, I'm telling you jest what HE said--things that werehappening--things that were GOING to happen. He said they weresometimes a comfort to him and sometimes a horror. Four nights beforethis he'd been in one--went into it while he was sitting looking at thefire. And he saw an old room he knew well in England, and Persis Leighin it, holding out her hands to him and looking glad and happy. So heknew he was going to hear good news of her."

  "A dream--a dream," scoffed the old Doctor.

  "Likely--likely," conceded Captain Jim. "That's what _I_ said to himat the time. It was a vast more comfortable to think so. I didn'tlike the idea of him seeing things like that--it was real uncanny.

  "'No,' says he, 'I didn't dream it. But we won't talk of this again.You won't be so much my friend if you think much about it.'

  "I told him nothing could make me any less his friend. But he jestshook his head and says, says he:

  "'Lad, I know. I've lost friends before because of this. I don'tblame them. There are times when I feel hardly friendly to myselfbecause of it. Such a power has a bit of divinity in it--whether of agood or an evil divinity who shall say? And we mortals all shrink fromtoo close contact with God or devil.'

  "Them was his words. I remember them as if 'twas yesterday, though Ididn't know jest what he meant. What do you s'pose he DID mean,doctor?"

  "I doubt if he knew what he meant himself," said Doctor Dave testily.

  "I think I understand," whispered Anne. She was listening in her oldattitude of clasped lips and shining eyes. Captain Jim treated himselfto an admiring smile before he went on with his story.

  "Well, purty soon all the Glen and Four Winds people knew theschoolmaster's bride was coming, and they were all glad because theythought so much of him. And everybody took an interest in his newhouse--THIS house. He picked this site for it, because you could seethe harbor and hear the sea from it. He made the garden out there forhis bride, but he didn't plant the Lombardies. Mrs. Ned Russellplanted THEM. But there's a double row of rose-bushes in the gardenthat the little girls who went to the Glen school set out there for theschoolmaster's bride. He said they were pink for her cheeks and whitefor her brow and red for her lips. He'd quoted poetry so much that hesorter got into the habit of talking it, too, I reckon.

  "Almost everybody sent him some little present to help out thefurnishing of the house. When the Russells came into it they werewell-to-do and furnished it real handsome, as you can see; but thefirst furniture that went into it was plain enough. This little housewas rich in love, though. The women sent in quilts and tablecloths andtowels, and one man made a chest for her, and another a table and soon. Even blind old Aunt Margaret Boyd wove a little basket for her outof the sweet-scented sand-hill grass. The schoolmaster's wife used itfor years to keep her handkerchiefs in.

  "Well, at last everything was ready--even to the logs in the bigfireplace ready for lighting. 'Twasn't exactly THIS fireplace, though'twas in the same place. Miss Elizabeth had this put in when she madethe house over fifteen years ago. It was a big, old-fashionedfireplace where you could have roasted an ox. Many's the time I've sathere and spun yarns, same's I'm doing tonight."

  Again there was a silence, while Captain Jim kept a passing tryst withvisitants Anne and Gilbert could not see--the folks who had sat withhim around that fireplace in the vanished years, with mirth and bridaljoy shining in eyes long since closed forever under churchyard sod orheaving leagues of sea. Here on olden nights children had tossedlaughter lightly to and fro. Here on winter evenings friends hadgathered. Dance and music and jest had been here. Here youths andmaidens had dreamed. For Captain Jim the little house was tenantedwith shapes entreating remembrance.

  "It was the first of July when the house was finished. Theschoolmaster began to count the days then. We used to see him walkingalong the shore, and we'd say to each other, 'She'll soon be with himnow.'

  "She was expected the middle of July, but she didn't come then. Nobodyfelt anxious. Vessels were often delayed for days and mebbe weeks.The Royal William was a week overdue--and then two--and then three.And at last we began to be frightened, and it got worse and worse.Fin'lly I couldn't bear to look into John
Selwyn's eyes. D'ye know,Mistress Blythe"--Captain Jim lowered his voice--"I used to think thatthey looked just like what his old great-great-grandmother's must havebeen when they were burning her to death. He never said much but hetaught school like a man in a dream and then hurried to the shore.Many a night he walked there from dark to dawn. People said he waslosing his mind. Everybody had given up hope--the Royal William waseight weeks overdue. It was the middle of September and theschoolmaster's bride hadn't come--never would come, we thought.

  "There was a big storm then that lasted three days, and on the eveningafter it died away I went to the shore. I found the schoolmasterthere, leaning with his arms folded against a big rock, gazing out tosea.

  "I spoke to him but he didn't answer. His eyes seemed to be looking atsomething I couldn't see. His face was set, like a dead man's.

  "'John--John,' I called out--jest like that--jest like a frightenedchild, 'wake up--wake up.'

  "That strange, awful look seemed to sorter fade out of his eyes.

  "He turned his head and looked at me. I've never forgot hisface--never will forget it till I ships for my last voyage.

  "'All is well, lad,' he says. 'I've seen the Royal William comingaround East Point. She will be here by dawn. Tomorrow night I shallsit with my bride by my own hearth-fire.'

  "Do you think he did see it?" demanded Captain Jim abruptly.

  "God knows," said Gilbert softly. "Great love and great pain mightcompass we know not what marvels."

  "I am sure he did see it," said Anne earnestly.

  "Fol-de-rol," said Doctor Dave, but he spoke with less conviction thanusual.

  "Because, you know," said Captain Jim solemnly, "the Royal William cameinto Four Winds Harbor at daylight the next morning.

  "Every soul in the Glen and along the shore was at the old wharf tomeet her. The schoolmaster had been watching there all night. How wecheered as she sailed up the channel."

  Captain Jim's eyes were shining. They were looking at the Four WindsHarbor of sixty years agone, with a battered old ship sailing throughthe sunrise splendor.

  "And Persis Leigh was on board?" asked Anne.

  "Yes--her and the captain's wife. They'd had an awful passage--stormafter storm--and their provisions give out, too. But there they wereat last. When Persis Leigh stepped onto the old wharf John Selwyn tookher in his arms--and folks stopped cheering and begun to cry. I criedmyself, though 'twas years, mind you, afore I'd admit it. Ain't itfunny how ashamed boys are of tears?"

  "Was Persis Leigh beautiful?" asked Anne.

  "Well, I don't know that you'd call her beautifulexactly--I--don't--know," said Captain Jim slowly. "Somehow, you nevergot so far along as to wonder if she was handsome or not. It jestdidn't matter. There was something so sweet and winsome about her thatyou had to love her, that was all. But she was pleasant to lookat--big, clear, hazel eyes and heaps of glossy brown hair, and anEnglish skin. John and her were married at our house that night atearly candle-lighting; everybody from far and near was there to see itand we all brought them down here afterwards. Mistress Selwyn lightedthe fire, and we went away and left them sitting here, jest as John hadseen in that vision of his. A strange thing--a strange thing! ButI've seen a turrible lot of strange things in my time."

  Captain Jim shook his head sagely.

  "It's a dear story," said Anne, feeling that for once she had gotenough romance to satisfy her. "How long did they live here?"

  "Fifteen years. I ran off to sea soon after they were married, likethe young scalawag I was. But every time I come back from a voyage I'dhead for here, even before I went home, and tell Mistress Selwyn allabout it. Fifteen happy years! They had a sort of talent forhappiness, them two. Some folks are like that, if you've noticed.They COULDN'T be unhappy for long, no matter what happened. Theyquarrelled once or twice, for they was both high-sperrited. ButMistress Selwyn says to me once, says she, laughing in that pretty wayof hers, 'I felt dreadful when John and I quarrelled, but underneath itall I was very happy because I had such a nice husband to quarrel withand make it up with.' Then they moved to Charlottetown, and NedRussell bought this house and brought his bride here. They were a gayyoung pair, as I remember them. Miss Elizabeth Russell was Alec'ssister. She came to live with them a year or so later, and she was acreature of mirth, too. The walls of this house must be sorter SOAKEDwith laughing and good times. You're the third bride I've seen comehere, Mistress Blythe--and the handsomest."

  Captain Jim contrived to give his sunflower compliment the delicacy ofa violet, and Anne wore it proudly. She was looking her best thatnight, with the bridal rose on her cheeks and the love-light in hereyes; even gruff old Doctor Dave gave her an approving glance, and toldhis wife, as they drove home together, that that red-headed wife of theboy's was something of a beauty.

  "I must be getting back to the light," announced Captain Jim. "I'veenj'yed this evening something tremenjus."

  "You must come often to see us," said Anne.

  "I wonder if you'd give that invitation if you knew how likely I'll beto accept it," Captain Jim remarked whimsically.

  "Which is another way of saying you wonder if I mean it," smiled Anne."I do, 'cross my heart,' as we used to say at school."

  "Then I'll come. You're likely to be pestered with me at any hour.And I'll be proud to have you drop down and visit me now and then, too.Gin'rally I haven't anyone to talk to but the First Mate, bless hissociable heart. He's a mighty good listener, and has forgot more'n anyMacAllister of them all ever knew, but he isn't much of aconversationalist. You're young and I'm old, but our souls are aboutthe same age, I reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph,as Cornelia Bryant would say."

  "The race that knows Joseph?" puzzled Anne.

  "Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kinds--therace that knows Joseph and the race that don't. If a person sortersees eye to eye with you, and has pretty much the same ideas aboutthings, and the same taste in jokes--why, then he belongs to the racethat knows Joseph."

  "Oh, I understand," exclaimed Anne, light breaking in upon her.

  "It's what I used to call--and still call in quotation marks 'kindredspirits.'"

  "Jest so--jest so," agreed Captain Jim. "We're it, whatever IT is.When you come in tonight, Mistress Blythe, I says to myself, says I,'Yes, she's of the race that knows Joseph.' And mighty glad I was, forif it wasn't so we couldn't have had any real satisfaction in eachother's company. The race that knows Joseph is the salt of the airth,I reckon."

  The moon had just risen when Anne and Gilbert went to the door withtheir guests. Four Winds Harbor was beginning to be a thing of dreamand glamour and enchantment--a spellbound haven where no tempest mightever ravin. The Lombardies down the lane, tall and sombre as thepriestly forms of some mystic band, were tipped with silver.

  "Always liked Lombardies," said Captain Jim, waving a long arm at them."They're the trees of princesses. They're out of fashion now. Folkscomplain that they die at the top and get ragged-looking. So theydo--so they do, if you don't risk your neck every spring climbing up alight ladder to trim them out. I always did it for Miss Elizabeth, soher Lombardies never got out-at-elbows. She was especially fond ofthem. She liked their dignity and stand-offishness. THEY don't hobnobwith every Tom, Dick and Harry. If it's maples for company, MistressBlythe, it's Lombardies for society."

  "What a beautiful night," said Mrs. Doctor Dave, as she climbed intothe Doctor's buggy.

  "Most nights are beautiful," said Captain Jim. "But I 'low thatmoonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter wonder what's left forheaven. The moon's a great friend of mine, Mistress Blythe. I'veloved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little chap of eightI fell asleep in the garden one evening and wasn't missed. I woke upalong in the night and I was most scared to death. What shadows andqueer noises there was! I dursn't move. Jest crouched there quaking,poor small mite. Seemed 's if there weren't anyone in the world butmeself and it was
mighty big. Then all at once I saw the moon lookingdown at me through the apple boughs, jest like an old friend. I wascomforted right off. Got up and walked to the house as brave as alion, looking at her. Many's the night I've watched her from the deckof my vessel, on seas far away from here. Why don't you folks tell meto take in the slack of my jaw and go home?"

  The laughter of the goodnights died away. Anne and Gilbert walked handin hand around their garden. The brook that ran across the cornerdimpled pellucidly in the shadows of the birches. The poppies alongits banks were like shallow cups of moonlight. Flowers that had beenplanted by the hands of the schoolmaster's bride flung their sweetnesson the shadowy air, like the beauty and blessing of sacred yesterdays.Anne paused in the gloom to gather a spray.

  "I love to smell flowers in the dark," she said. "You get hold oftheir soul then. Oh, Gilbert, this little house is all I've dreamedit. And I'm so glad that we are not the first who have kept bridaltryst here!"