T. G. Steward
A CHARLESTON LOVE STORY;
OR, HORTENSE VANROSS
BY
T. G. STEWARD.
F. TENNYSON NEELY,
PUBLISHER,
LONDON. NEW YORK.
Copyright, 1899.
by
F. TENNYSON NEELY
in
United States
and
Great Britain.
All Rights Reserved.
About the print version
A Charleston Love Story; or, Hortense Vanross
T. G. Steward
F. TENNYSON NEELY
LONDON. NEW YORK
1899
Published: 1899
Chapter 1
CHAPTER I.
"I don't think our Len will ever amount to much," said Leonard Howell, senior,
one day to his wife as he entered the house.
"Why not, father?" anxiously inquired Aunt Milly.
"Oh! well, he's too careless and too trifling. He's smart enough, got wit
enough, but it all runs the wrong way. I've about gi'n him up."
"Oh, no, father, don't say that; don't get discouraged. Let's wait awhile
longer. You and I and Bernice here ought to be able to bring up one boy, even if
we are getting old. I shall not give him up yet.
He may come out a good man, after all," said Mrs. Howell kindly.
"Ah, mother, what is bred in the bone can't be got out through the flesh. The
boy is his mother right over -- -"
"There, father, don't let us talk about than. You know we agreed years ago to
bury that matter forever."
This dialogue occurred in an old-fashioned country house in a settlement not far
from Philadelphia, over fifty years ago. The house was built wholly of wood, and
consisted of two parts -- an old and a new-although the new part gave evidence
of having seen many summers. The old part was only one story high, but the long
rafters and consequently high peaked roof gave room for a large attic. It had
its heavy, projecting eaves; its oaken door, which had one day been red; its
genuine leather latchstring hanging outside, and its heavy oaken latch within. There were also the large open fireplace, the swinging
crane with its pothooks of various lengths, and the heavy wrought andirons. The
furniture of this part of the house consisted of a solid table; several chairs,
some with splint bottoms and others with bottoms of untanned skin; a carved
corner cupboard; and a rude settee which served often as a bed.
The new part of the house was of two stories, although the ceilings were low;
and the furniture of the room, as it was called, differed from that in the older
part of the house. Indeed, two generations were represented in the furniture of
this humble dwelling. In the "room" were a ten-stove; a wooden clock, with its
picture of two brothers clasped in loving embrace on its front, and its
peculiarly musical stroke; a black walnut table, with its feet of dragon claws, then more than a half-century old; and a well-worn
rocking chair.
The house within and the yard around were generally kept scrupulously neat and
orderly; and the small farm on which it stood showed signs of industry and
thrift in all its details. The fences were clean and in good repair; the wagons,
plows, and barrows, as well as the live stock, all showed the effects of
intelligent care.
Leonard Howell was no idler, nor did he tolerate idleness in those around him.
Brusque in manner, diligent in business, of good health and with good appetite,
endowed with energy and a constant flow of good spirit, he was a thorough master
of his work and the strength and support of the home. Or, at least, he had been
so for many years; now, however, he was rapidly advancing toward old age. The
estate upon which he lived had been left him by his father, and he was at this time
possessed of sufficient means to afford a plain but comfortable living, and was
free from debt. In his earlier days he had been successful both as a small
farmer and as a dealer in cordwood and hoop-poles; and many of his ventures in
this line had sailed out of the tortuous rivers of South Jersey to Philadelphia,
where the wood and the poles then found ready sale.
Leonard Howell was fairly shrewd at driving a bargain, and was possessed of an
exterior which on first sight would indicate rather a hard nature; but those who
knew him well could bear testimony to his benevolence of heart, and also to a
keen sense of humor which he at times manifested. Like most men of his time and
vicinity, he occasionally drank apple whiskey, or apple "Jack," as it was
called; but he was never known to become the worse for liquor. He was a member of the
church, and was thoroughly sound in the faith, and a good contributor; but
religious matters with him were to a large extent turned over to his brother,
who was a deacon in the church, and to his wife, who was better read than
himself, and who was thoughtful and pious. Leonard Howell, evidently, leaned
more upon his wife's prayers and his brother's counsels than upon any devotions
of his own. He had his "principles," and was ever ready to do what he called
"the right thing," but as for services of devotion and the like -- well -- he
submitted to them but never gave evidence that he enjoyed them.
Aunt Milly Howell was in many respects the very opposite of her husband both in
outward and inward character. She was spare and delicate of form, and quite
generally in poor health. Her manners were soft and refined, and she was far above the
average woman of her neighborhood in point of intelligence. She had read much,
considering her opportunities, and her memory was well stored with Bible facts
and texts and with many gems of old English literature.
Although usually unwell herself, she was nevertheless filled with the tenderest
sympathy for others, and was the special friend of the children of the
community. Her resignation and patience, and here quiet, pleasant manner filled
the old home with a soothing influence, making all who dwelt there happier, if
not indeed better because of it. The restraint which her presence imposed upon
the boisterous was by no means burdensome, because it was always accompanied by
her own subdued example, and by her instructive and elevating conversation. I can see here now as I write, sitting in her high-backed chair,
with her neat-fitting house dress on, the clean handkerchief folded over her
shoulders with its lower ends concealed beneath her apron, her spectacles, her
white cap with its frills, her gray hair and smooth brow, her softly treading
slippers. Yes, I see her now in that old homestead, with the light of heaven
falling in its gentle fullness upon her paid-worn face, and my soul warms with
the vision. She was one of God's angels sent to bless the earth.
In this quiet home lived also the maiden daughter, Bernice, the youngest of a
family of seven sons and daughters who had passed their childhood there. She
was, at the time of the dialogue above mentioned, about twenty-five years of
age; rather large and stalwart in form, inheriting her father's energy and
self-reliance, coupled with much of her mother's reserve and kindness. She had the will, the nerve, and
the cool courage fitting her to fill a more important sphere. Her dignity of
manner was sublime, here scorn terrible. She could freeze or flay with less than
a word. Her look was enough. She lived long beyond the time of my story, but she
never married. Her's was the helping hand of the community ever ready to do
good.
No home is complete without the boy. Leonard C. Howell, junior, was a grandson,
and was at this time about thirteen years old. He was bright, but it could not
be said that he was industrious; and he seemed to have imbibed a dislike to
everything about the farm except the fruit that grew on the trees and the food
that came to his place at table. The fowls, calves, colts, horses, and dogs --
all seemed to hate or fear him. He was inclined to be cruel as well as "careless." His chief pastime was to blow outlandish airs upon
a small fife, the notes of which were as much out of place in that orderly home
as were his manners and temper.
Leonard, however, always had a faithful and powerful friend and apologist in his
Aunt Bernice; and hence when Grandfather Howell expressed himself as being about
worn out with little "Len," Bernice waited until her mother had finished, and
then with her black eyes fairly snapping fire, she added:
"Len is not so bad. He is mischievour, and careless and troublesome; but he is
only a boy yet. He'll be all right when he gets older."
This was said with an emphasis that ...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Go to the beginning of the document
Go to previous page
Go to next page
Go to the end of document
