Daisy
myself, and I took it; and it was very good for me. In every interval
between mathematical or arithmetical problems, my mind ran off to this
other one, with infinite refreshment.
Then I consulted Maria; she was a great help to me. I thought at first I
should have to build a place to hold our gatherings in; the home kitchen
was not a quarter large enough. But Darry told me of an empty barn not
far off, that was roomy and clean. By virtue of my full powers I seized
upon this barn. I had it well warmed with stoves; Darry saw to that for
me, and that they were well and safely put up; I had it adorned and
clothed and made gay with evergreens and flowers, till it was beautiful.
The carpenters on the place put up long tables, and fitted plenty of
seats. Then I had some rough kitchens extemporised outside of it; and
sent for loads of turkeys from Baytown; and for days before and after
Christmas my band of cooks were busy, roasting and baking and
cake-making. Coffee was brewed without measure, as if we had been a
nation of Arabs. And then tickets were furnished to all the people on the
place, tickets of admission; and for all the holidays, or for Christmas
and three days after, I kept open house at the barn. Night and day I kept
open house. I went and came myself, knowing that the sight of me hindered
nobody's pleasure; but I let in no other white person, and I believe I
gained the lasting ill-will of the overseer by refusing him. I stood
responsible for everybody's good behaviour, and had no forfeits to pay.
And enjoyment reigned, during those days, in the barn; a gay enjoyment,
full of talk and of singing as well as of feasting; full of laughter and
jokes, and full of utmost good-humour and kindness from one to another.
Again, most unlike a party of Celtic origin. It was enjoyment to me too;
very great; though dashed continually by the thought how rare and strange
it was to those around me. Only for my sake and dependent on my little
hand of power; having no guarantee or security else for its ever coming
again. As the holiday drew near its end, my heart grew sore often at the
thought of all my poor friends going back into their toil, hopeless and
spiritless as it was, without one ray to brighten the whole year before
them till Christmas should come round again. Ay, and this feeling was
quickened every now and then by a word, or a look, or a tone, which told
me that I was not the only one who remembered it. "Christmas is almos'
gone, Tony," I heard one fine fellow say to another at the end of the
third day; and under the words there was a thread of meaning which gave a
twitch to my heartstrings. There were bursts of song mingled with all
this, which I could not bear to hear. In the prayer-meetings I did not
mind them; here, in the midst of festivities, they almost choked me. "I'm
going home" sounded now so much as if it were in a strange land; and once
when a chorus of them were singing, deep and slow, the refrain,
"In the morning--
Chil'len, in the morning--"
I had a great heartbreak, and sat down and cried behind my sugarplums.
I can bear to think of it all now. There were years when I could not.
After this entertainment was over, and much more stupid ones had been
given among polished people at the house, and the New Year had swept
in upon us with its fresh breeze of life and congratulations, the
winter and Miss Pinshon settled down for unbroken sway.
I had little to help me during those months from abroad. That is, I
had nothing. My father wrote seldom. My mother's letters had small
comfort for me. They said that papa's health mended slowly--was very
delicate--he could not bear much exertion--his head would not endure
any excitement. They were trying constant changes of scene and air.
They were at Spa, at Paris, at Florence, at Vevay, in the Pyrenees;
not staying long anywhere. The physicians talked of a long sea voyage.
From all which I gradually brought down my hopes into smaller and
smaller compass; till finally I packed them up and stowed them away in
the hidden furthermost corner of my heart, only to be brought out and
looked at when there should be occasion. Spring came without the least
prospect that such occasion would be given me soon. My father and
mother were making preparation to journey in Norway; and already there
was talk of a third winter in Egypt! It was hoped that all these
changes were not without some slow and certain effect in the way of
improvement. I think on me they had another sort of effect.
Spring as usual drove us away from Magnolia. This summer was spent
with my Aunt Gary at various pleasant and cool up-country places,
where hills were, and brooks, and sweet air, and flowers, and where I
might have found much to enjoy. But always Miss Pinshon was with me,
and the quiet and freedom of these places, with the comparative cool
climate, made it possible for her to carry on all her schemes for my
improvement just as steadily as though we had been at Magnolia. And I
had not Darry and my pony, which indeed, the latter had been of small
use to me this year; and I had not my band of friends on the Sunday
evening; and even my own maid Margaret Aunt Gary had chosen to leave
behind. Miss Pinshon's reign was absolute. I think some of the Medusa
properties Preston used to talk about must have had their effect upon
me at this time. I remember little of all that summer, save the work
for Miss Pinshon, and the walks with Miss Pinshon, and a general
impression of those black eyes and inflexible voice, and mathematics
and dates, and a dull round of lesson getting. Not knowledge
getting--that would have been quite another affair. I seemed to be all
the while putting up a scaffolding, and never coming to work on the
actual Temple of Learning itself. I know we were in beautiful regions
that summer, but my recollection is not of them but of rows of
figures; and of a very grave, I think dull, and very quiet little
personage, who went about like a mouse for silentness, and gave no
trouble to anybody excepting only to herself.
The next winter passed as the winter before had done, only I had no
Christmas entertainment. My father and mother were in Egypt--perhaps he
did not think of it. Perhaps he did not feel that he could afford it.
Perhaps my aunt and the overseer had severally made representations to
which my father thought it best to listen. I had no festivities at any
rate for my poor coloured people; and it made my own holidays a very
shaded thing.
I found, however, this winter one source of amusement, and in a measure,
of comfort. In the bookcases which held my grandfather's library, there
was a pretty large collection of books of travel. I wanted to know just
then about Egypt, that I might the better in imagination follow my father
and mother. I searched the shelves for Egypt, and was lucky enough to light
upon several works of authority and then recent observation. I feasted on
these. I began in the middle, then very soon went back to the beginning,
and read delightedly, carefully, patiently, through every detail and
discussion in which the various authors indulged. Then I turned all their
pictures into living panorama; for I fancied my father and mother in every
place, looking at every wonder they described; and I enjoyed not merely
what they described, but my father's and mother's enjoyment of it. This
was a rare delight to me. My favourite place was the corner of the study
fire, at dusk, when lessons and tiresome walks for the day were done, and
Miss Pinshon was taking her ease elsewhere in some other way. I had the
fire made up to burn brightly, and pine knots at hand to throw on if
wanted; and with the illumination dancing all over my page, I went off to
regions of enchantment, pleasant to me beyond any fairy tale. I never cared
much for things that were not true. No chambers of Arabian fancy could have
had the fascination for me of those old Egyptian halls, nor all the marvels
of magic entranced me like the wonder-working hand of time. Those books
made my comfort and my diversion all the winter. For I was not a galloping
reader; I went patiently through every page; and the volumes were many
enough and interesting enough to last me long. I dreamed under the Sphynx;
I wandered over the pyramids; no chamber nor nook escaped me; I could have
guided a traveller--in imagination. I knew the prospect from the top,
though I never wrote my name there. It seemed to me that _that_ was
barbarism. I sailed up the Nile--delightful journeys on board the Nile
boats--forgetting Miss Pinshon and mathematics, except when I rather
pitied the ancient Egyptians for being so devoted to the latter; forgetting
Magnolia, and all the home things I could not do and would have liked to
do; forgetting everything, and rapt in the enjoyment of tropical airs, and
Eastern skies; hearing the plash of water from the everlasting _shadoof_,
and watching the tints and colours on the ranges of hills bordering the
Nile valley. All _my_ hills were green; the hues of those others were
enough of themselves to make an enchanted land. Still more, as I stopped
at the various old temples along the way, my feeling of enchantment
increased. I threaded the mazes of rubbish, and traced the plans of the
ruins of Thebes, till I was at home in every part of them. I studied the
hieroglyphics and the descriptions of the sculptures, till the names of
Thothmes III., and Amunoph III., and Sethos and Rameses, Miamun and
Rameses III., were as well known to me as the names of the friends whom
I met every Sunday evening. I even studied out the old Egyptian mythology,
the better to be able to understand the sculptures, as well as the
character of those ancient people who wrought them, and to be able to
fancy the sort of services that were celebrated by the priests in the
splendid enclosures of the temples.
And then I went higher up the Nile, and watched at the uncovering of
those wonderful colossal figures which stand, or sit, before the
temple of Abou-Simbel. I tried to imagine what manner of things such
large statues could be; I longed for one sight of the faces, said to
be so superb, which showed what the great Rameses looked like. Mamma
and papa could see them, that was a great joy. Belzoni was one of my
prime favourites; and I liked particularly to travel with him, both
there and at the Tombs of the Kings. There were some engravings
scattered through the various volumes, and a good many plans, which
helped me. I studied them faithfully, and got from them all they could
give me.
In the Tombs of the Kings, my childish imagination found, I think, its
highest point of revelling and delight. Those were something stranger,
more wonderful, and more splendid, even than Abou-Simbel and Karnak.
Many an evening, while the firelight from a Southern pine knot danced
on my page, I was gone on the wings of fancy thousands of miles away;
and went with discoverers or explorers up and down the passages and
halls and staircases and chambers, to which the entrance is from
_Biban el Malook_. I wandered over the empty sarcophagi; held my
breath at the pit's sides; and was never tired of going over the
scenes and sculptures done in such brilliant colours upon those white
walls. Once in there, I quite forgot that mamma and papa could see
them; I was so busy seeing them myself.
This amusement of mine was one which nobody interfered with, and it
lasted, as I said, all winter. All the winter my father and mother
were in Egypt. When spring came, I began to look with trembling
eagerness for a letter that should say they would turn now homewards.
I was disappointed. My father was so much better that his physicians
were encouraged to continuing their travelling regimen; and the word