Books: Cousin Maude
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Mary J. Holmes >> Cousin Maude
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Since Janet's last marriage Maude had taken the entire management of
affairs, and without her there would have been but little comfort or
order in a household whose only servant was old and lazy, and whose
eldest daughter was far too proud to work. This Maude knew, and with
a flush of indignation upon her cheek she replied to her stepfather:
"Very well, sir, I can pay for my board, if you like; but boarders,
you know, never trouble themselves with the affairs of the kitchen."
The doctor was confounded. He knew he could not well dispense with
Maude's services, and it had not before occurred to him that a
housekeeper and boarder were two different persons.
"Ah--yes--just so," said he, "I see I'm laboring under a mistake;
you prefer working for your board--all right," and feeling a good
deal more disconcerted than he ever supposed it possible for him to
feel, he gave up the contest.
Maude was at this time nearly sixteen years of age, and during the
next year she was to all intents and purposes the housekeeper,
discharging faithfully every duty and still finding time to pursue
her own studies and superintend the education of little Louis, to
whom she was indeed a second mother. She was very fond of books, and
while Janet was with them she had with Nellie attended the seminary
at Laurel Hill, where she stood high in all her classes, for
learning was with her a delight, and when at last it seemed
necessary for her to remain at home, she still devoted a portion of
each day to her studies, reciting to a teacher who came regularly to
the house and whom she paid with her own money. By this means she
was at the age of seventeen a far better scholar than Nellie, who
left every care to her stepsister, saying she was just suited to the
kitchen work and the tiresome old books with which she kept her
chamber littered. This chamber to which Nellie referred was Maude's
particular province. Here she reigned joint sovereign with Louis,
who thus early evinced a degree of intellectuality wonderful in one
so young, and who in some things excelled even Maude herself.
Drawing and painting seemed to be his ruling taste, and as Dr.
Kennedy still cherished for his crippled boy a love almost
idolatrous, he spared neither money nor pains to procure for him
everything necessary for his favorite pursuit. Almost the entire day
did Louis pass in what he termed Maude's library, where, poring over
books or busy with his pencil, he whiled the hours away without a
sigh for the green fields and shadowy woods, through which he could
never hope to ramble. And Maude was very proud of her artist
brother--proud of the beautiful boy whose face seemed not to be of
earth, so calm, so angel-like was its expression. All the softer,
gentler virtues of the mother, and all the intellectual qualities of
the father were blended together in the child, who presented a
combination of goodness, talent, beauty, and deformity such as this
is seldom seen. For his sister Maude, Louis possessed a deep,
undying love which neither time nor misfortune could in any way
abate. She was part and portion of himself--his life--his light--his
all, in all--and to his childlike imagination a purer, nobler being
had never been created than his darling sister Maude. And well might
Louis Kennedy love the self-sacrificing girl who devoted herself so
wholly to him, and who well fulfilled her mother's charge, "Care for
my little boy."
Nellie, too, was well beloved, but he soon grew weary of her
company, for she seldom talked of anything save herself and the
compliments which were given to her youthful beauty. And Nellie, at
the age of eighteen, was beautiful, if that can be called beauty
which is void of heart or soul or intellect. She was very small, and
the profusion of golden curls which fell about her neck and
shoulders gave her the appearance of being younger than she really
was. Her features were almost painfully regular, her complexion
dazzlingly brilliant, while her large blue eyes had in them a
dreamy, languid expression exceedingly attractive to those who
looked for nothing beyond--no inner chamber where dwell the graces
which make a woman what she ought to be. Louis' artist eye,
undeveloped though it was, acknowledged the rare loveliness of
Nellie's face. She would make a beautiful picture, he thought; but
for the noble, the good, the pure, he turned to the dark-eyed Maude,
who was as wholly unlike her stepsister as it was possible for her
to be. The one was a delicate blonde, the other a decided brunette,
with hair and eyes of deepest black. Her complexion, too, was dark,
but tinged with a beautiful red, which Nellie would gladly have
transferred to her own paler cheek. It was around the mouth,
however, the exquisitely shaped mouth, and white even teeth, that
Maude's principal beauty lay, and the bright smile which lit up her
features when at all animated in conversation would have made a
plain face handsome. There were some who gave her the preference,
saying there was far more beauty in her clear, beautiful eyes and
sunny smile than in the dollish face of Nellie, who treated such
remarks with the utmost scorn. She knew that she was beautiful. She
had known it all her life--for had she not been told so by her
mirror, her father, her schoolmates, her Aunt Kelsey, and more than
all by J.C. De Vere, the elegant young man whom she had met in
Rochester, where she had spent the winter preceding the summer of
which we are writing, and which was four and one-half years after
Matty's death.
Greatly had the young lady murmured on her return against the dreary
old house and lonely life at Laurel Hill, which did indeed present a
striking contrast to the city gayeties in which she had been
mingling. Even the cozy little chamber which the kind-hearted Maude
had fitted up for her with her own means was pronounced heathenish
and old-fashioned, while Maude herself was constantly taunted with
being countryfied and odd.
"I wish J.C. De Vere could see you now," she said one morning to her
sister, who had donned her working dress, and with sleeves rolled up
and wide checked apron tied around her waist was deep in the
mysteries of bread making.
"I wish he could see her too," said Louis, who had rolled his chair
into the kitchen so that he could be with Maude. "He would say he
never saw a handsomer color than the red upon her cheeks."
"Pshaw!" returned Nellie. "I guess he knows the difference between
rose-tint and sunburn. Why, he's the most fastidious man I ever saw.
He can't endure the smell of cooking, and says he would never look
twice at a lady whose hands were not as soft and white as--well, as
mine," and she glanced admiringly at the little snowy fingers, which
were beating a tune upon the window-sill.
"I wants no better proof that he's a fool," muttered old Hannah, who
looked upon Nellie as being what she really was, a vain, silly
thing.
"A fool, Hannah," retorted Nellie; "I'd like to have Aunt Kelsey
hear you say that. Why, he's the very best match in Rochester. All
the girls are dying for him, but he don't care a straw for one of
them. He's out of health now, and is coming here this summer with
Aunt Kelsey, and then you'll see how perfectly refined he is. By the
way, Maude, if I had as much money at my command as you have I'd fix
up the parlor a little. You know father won't, and that carpet, I'll
venture to say, was in the ark. I almost dread to have J.C. come,
he's so particular; but then he knows we are rich, and beside that,
Aunt Kelsey has told him just how stingy father is, so I don't care
so much. Did I tell you J.C. has a cousin James, who may possibly
come too. I never saw him, but Aunt Kelsey says he's the queerest
man that ever lived. He never was known to pay the slightest
attention to a woman unless she was married or engaged. He has a
most delightful house at Hampton, where he lives with his mother;
but he'll never marry, unless it is some hired girl who knows how to
work. Why, he was once heard to say he would sooner marry a good-
natured Irish girl than a fashionable city lady who knew nothing but
to dress, and flirt, and play the piano--the wretch! "
"Oh! I know I should like him," exclaimed Louis, who had been an
attentive listener.
"I dare say you would, and Maude, too," returned Nellie, adding,
after a moment: "And I shouldn't wonder if Maude just suited him,
particularly if he finds her up to her elbows in dough. So, Maude,
it is for your interest to improve the old castle a little. Won't
you buy a new carpet?" and she drew nearer to Maude, who made no
direct reply.
The three hundred and fifty dollars interest money which she had
received the year before had but little of it been expended on
herself, though it had purchased many a comfort for the household,
for Maude was generous, and freely gave what was her own to give.
The parlor carpet troubled even her, but she would not pledge
herself to buy another until she had first tried her powers of
persuasion upon the doctor, who, as she expected, refused outright.
"He knew the carpet was faded," he said, "but 'twas hardly worn at
all, and 'twas a maxim of his to make things last as long as
possible."
It was in vain that Nellie, who was present, quoted Aunt Kelsey and
J.C. De Vere, the old doctor didn't care a straw for either, unless
indeed, J.C. should some time take Nellie off his hands, and pay her
bills, which were altogether too large for one of his maxims. That
this would probably be the result of the young man's expected visit
had been strongly hinted by Mrs. Kelsey, and thus was he more
willing to have him come. But on the subject of the carpet he was
inexorable, and with tears of anger in her large blue eyes Nellie
gave up the contest, while Maude very quietly walked over to the
store and gave orders that a handsome three-ply carpet which she had
heard her sister admire should be sent home as soon as possible.
"You are a dear good girl, after all, and I hope James De Vere will
fall in love with you," was Nellie's exclamation as she saw a large
roll deposited at their door, but not a stitch in the making of the
carpet did she volunteer to take. "She should prick her fingers or
callous her hand," she said, "and Mr. De Vere thought so much of a
pretty hand."
"Nonsense!" said John, who was still a member of the family,
"nonsense, Miss Nellie. I'd give a heap more for one of Miss Maude's
little fingers, red and rough as they be, than I would for both them
soft, sickish feeling hands of yourn;" and John hastily disappeared
from the room to escape the angry words which he knew would follow
his bold remark.
Nellie was not a favorite at home, and no one humored her as much as
Maude, who, on this occasion, almost outdid herself in her endeavors
to please the exacting girl, and make the house as presentable as
possible to the fashionable Mrs. Kelsey and the still more
fashionable J.C. De Vere. The new carpet was nicely fitted to the
floor, new curtains hung before the windows, the old sofa was
recovered, the piano was tuned, a hat-stand purchased for the hall,
the spare chamber cleaned, and then very impatiently Nellie waited
for the day when her guests were expected to arrive.
The time came at last, a clear June afternoon, and immediately after
dinner Nellie repaired to her chamber, so as to have ample time to
try the effect of her different dresses, ere deciding upon any one.
Maude, too, was a good deal excited, for one of her even
temperament. She rather dreaded Mrs. Kelsey, whom she had seen but
twice in her life, but for some reason, wholly inexplicable to
herself, she felt a strange interest in the wonderful J.C., of whom
she had heard so much. Not that he would notice her in the least,
but a man who could turn the heads of all the girls in Rochester
must be somewhat above the common order of mortals; and when at last
her work was done, and she, too, went up to dress, it was with an
unusual degree of earnestness that she asked her sister what she
should wear that would be becoming.
"Wear what you please, but don't bother me," answered Nellie,
smoothing down the folds of her light blue muslin, which harmonized
admirably with her clear complexion.
"Maude," called Louis, from the adjoining room, "wear white. You
always look pretty in white."
"So does every black person!" answered Nellie, feeling provoked that
she had not advised the wearing of some color not as becoming to
Maude as she knew white to be.
Maude had the utmost confidence in Louis' taste, and when fifteen
minutes later she stood before the mirror, her short, glossy curls
clustering about her head, a bright bloom on her cheek, and a
brighter smile upon her lip, she thought it was the dress which made
her look so well, for it had never entered her mind that she was
handsome.
"Wear your coral earrings," said Louis, who had wheeled himself into
the room, and was watching her with all a fond brother's pride.
The earrings were a decided improvement, and the jealous Nellie,
when she saw how neat and tasteful was her sister's dress, began to
cry, saying, "she herself looked a fright, that she'd nothing fit to
wear, and if her father did not buy her something she'd run away."
This last was her usual threat when at all indignant, and as after
giving vent to it she generally felt better, she soon dried her
tears, saying, "she was glad anyway that she had blue eyes, for J.C.
could not endure black ones."
"Maybe James can," was the quick rejoinder of Louis, who always
defended Maude from Nellie's envious attacks.
By this time the clock was striking five. Half an hour more and they
would be there, and going through the rooms below Nellie looked to
see if everything was in order, then returning to her chamber above
she waited impatiently until the sound of wheels was heard in the
distance. A cloud of dust was visible next, and soon a large
traveling carriage stopped at the gate, laden with trunks and boxes,
as if its occupants had come to spend the remainder of the summer. A
straight, slender, dandified-looking young man sprang out, followed
by another far different in style, though equally as fine looking.
The lady next alighted, and scarcely were her feet upon the ground
when she was caught around the neck by a little fairy figure in
blue, which had tripped gracefully down the walk, seemingly
unconscious, but really very conscious of every step she took, for
the black-mustached young man, who touched his hat to her so
politely, was particular about a woman's gait.
A little apart from the rest stood the stranger, casually eyeing the
diminutive creature, of whose beauty and perfections he had heard so
much both from her partial aunt and his half-smitten cousin: There
was a momentary thrill--a feeling such as one experiences in gazing
upon a rare piece of sculpture--and then the heart of James De Vere
resumed its accustomed beat, for he knew the inner chamber of the
mind was empty, and henceforth Nellie's beauty would have no
attraction for him. Very prettily she led the way to the house, and
after ushering her guests into the parlor ran upstairs to Maude,
bidding her to order supper at once, and telling her as a piece of
important news which she did not already know, that "Aunt Kelsey,
James, and J.C. had come."
CHAPTER VIII.
JAMES AND J.C.
James and J.C. De Vere were cousins, and also cousins of Mrs.
Kelsey's husband; and hence the intimacy between that lady and
themselves, or rather between that lady and J.C., who was undeniably
the favorite, partly because he was much like herself and partly
because of his name, which she thought so exclusive--so different
from anyone's else. His romantic young mother, who liked anything
savoring at all of "Waverly," had inflicted upon him the cognomen of
Jedediah Cleishbotham, and repenting of her act when too late had
dubbed him "J.C.," by which name he was now generally known. The
ladies called him "a love of a man," and so he was, if a faultless
form, a wicked black eye, a superb set of teeth, an unexceptionable
mustache, a tiny foot, the finest of broadcloth, reported wealth,
and perfect good humor constitute the ingredients which make up "a
love of a man." Added to this, he really did possess a good share of
common sense, and with the right kind of influence would have made a
far different man from what he was. Self-love was the bane of his
life, and as he liked dearly to be flattered, so he in turn became a
most consummate flatterer; always, however, adapting his remarks to
the nature of the person with whom he was conversing. Thus to Nellie
Kennedy he said a thousand foolish things, just because he knew he
gratified her vanity by doing so. Although possessing the reputation
of a wealthy man, J.C. was far from being one, and his great object
was to secure a wife who, while not distasteful to him, still had
money enough to cover many faults, and such a one he fancied Nellie
Kennedy to be. From Mrs. Kelsey he had received the impression that
the doctor was very rich, and as Nellie was the only daughter, her
fortune would necessarily be large. To be sure, he would rather she
had been a little more sensible, but as she was not he resolved to
make the best of it, and although claiming to be something of an
invalid in quest of health, it was really with the view of asking
her to be his wife that he had come to Laurel Hill. He had first
objected to his cousin accompanying him--not for fear of rivalry,
but because he disliked what he might say of Nellie, for if there
was a person in the world whose opinion he respected, and whose
judgment he honored, it was his Cousin James.
Wholly unlike J.C. was James, and yet he was quite as popular, for
one word from him was more highly prized by scheming mothers and
artful young girls than the most complimentary speech that J.C. ever
made. He meant what he said; and to the kindest, noblest of hearts
he added a fine commanding person, a finished education, and a
quiet, gentlemanly manner, to say nothing of his unbounded wealth,
and musical voice, whose low, deep tones had stirred the heart-
strings of more than one fair maiden in her teens, but stirred them
in vain, for James De Vere had never seen the woman he wished to
call his wife; and now, at the age of twenty-six, he was looked upon
as a confirmed old bachelor, whom almost anyone would marry, but
whom no one ever could. He had come to Laurel Hill because Mrs.
Kelsey had asked him so to do, and because he thought it would be
pleasant to spend a few weeks in that part of the country.
Of Maude's existence he knew nothing, and when at last supper was
announced, and he followed his cousin to the dining room, he started
in surprise as his eye fell on the dark-eyed girl who, with a
heightened bloom upon her cheek, presided at the table with so much
grace and dignity. Whether intentionally or not, we cannot say, but
Nellie failed to introduce her stepsister, and as Mrs. Kelsey was
too much absorbed in looking at her pretty niece, and in talking to
her brother, to notice the omission, Maude's position would have
been peculiarly embarrassing but for the gentlemanly demeanor of
James, who, always courteous, particularly to those whom he thought
neglected, bowed politely, and made to her several remarks
concerning the fineness of the day and the delightful view which
Laurel Hill commanded of the surrounding country. She was no menial,
he knew, and looking in her bright, black eyes he saw that she had
far more mind than the dollish Nellie, who, as usual, was provoking
J.C. to say all manner of foolish things.
As they were returning to the parlor J.C. said to Nellie: "By the
way, Nell, who is that young girl in white, and what is she doing
here?"
"Why, that's Maude Remington, my stepsister," answered Nellie. "I'm
sure you've heard me speak of her."
J.C. was sure he hadn't; but he did not contradict the little lady,
whose manner plainly indicated that any attention paid by him to the
said Maude would be resented as an insult to herself. Just then Mrs.
Kelsey went upstairs, taking her niece with her; and as Dr. Kennedy
had a patient to visit he, too, asked to be excused, and the young
men were left alone. The day was warm, and sauntering out beneath
the trees they sat down upon a rustic seat which commanded a view of
the dining room, the doors and windows of which were open,
disclosing to view all that was transpiring within.
"In the name of wonder, what's that?" exclaimed J.C., as he saw a
curiously shaped chair wheeling itself, as it were, into the room.
"It must be Dr. Kennedy's crippled boy," answered James, as Louis
skipped across the floor on crutches and climbed into the chair
which Maude carefully held for him.
Louis did not wish to eat with the strangers until somewhat
acquainted, consequently he waited until they were gone, and then
came to the table, where Maude stood by his side, carefully
ministering to his wants, and assisting him into his chair when he
was through. Then, pushing back her curls, and donning the check
apron which Nellie so much abhorred, she removed the dishes herself,
for old Hannah she knew was very tired, having done an unusual
amount of work that day.
"I tell you what, Jim, I wouldn't wonder if that's the very one for
you," said J.C., puffing leisurely at his cigar, and still keeping
his eyes fixed upon the figure in white, as if to one of his
fastidious taste there was nothing very revolting in seeing Maude
Remington wash the supper dishes, even though her hands were brown
and her arms a little red.
James did not answer immediately, and when he did he said: "Do you
remember a little girl we met in the cars between Springfield and
Albany, several years ago when we were returning from school? She
was a funny little black-eyed creature, and amused us very much with
her remarks."
"I wouldn't wonder if I remembered her," returned J.C., "for didn't
she say I looked as if I didn't mean for certain? I tell you what it
is, Jim, I've thought of the speech more than a thousand times when
I've been saying things I did not mean to foolish girls and their
mammas. But what reminded you of her?"
"If I mistake not, that child and the young lady yonder are one and
the same. You know she told us her name was Maude Remington, and
that the naughty man behind us wasn't her father, and she didn't
like him a bit, or something like that."
"And I honor her judgment both in his case and mine," interrupted
J.C., continuing, after a moment: "The old fellow looks as that man
did. I guess you are right. I mean to question 'Cuffee' on the
subject," and he beckoned to John, who was passing at no great
distance.
"Sambo," said he, as the negro approached, "who is that young lady
using the broom-handle so vigorously?" and he pointed to Maude, who
was finishing her domestic duties by brushing the crumbs from the
carpet.
"If you please, sar, my name is John," answered the African,
assuming a dignity of manner which even J.C. respected.
"Be it John, then," returned the young man, "but tell us how long
has she lived here, and where did she come from?"
Nothing pleased John better than a chance to talk of Maude, and he
replied: "She came here twelve years ago this very month with that
little blue-eyed mother of hern, who is lyin' under them willers in
the graveyard. We couldn't live without Miss Maude. She's all the
sunshine thar is about the lonesome old place. Why, she does
everything, from takin' care of her crippled half-brother to mendin'
t'other one's gownd."
"And who is t'other one?" asked J.C., beginning to feel greatly
interested in the negro's remarks.
"T'other one," said John, "is Miss Nellie, who won't work for fear
of silin' her hands, which some fool of a city chap has made her
b'lieve are so white and handsome," and a row of ivory was just
visible, as, leaning against a tree, John watched the effect of his
words upon "the fool of a city chap."
J.C. was exceedingly good-natured, and tossing his cigar into the
grass he replied, "You don't mean me, of course; but tell us more of
this Maude, who mops the floor and mends Nellie's dresses."
"She don't mop the floor," muttered John. "This nigger wouldn't let
her do that--but she does mend Nellie's gownds, which I wouldn't do,
if I's worth as much money as she is!"
If J.C. had been interested before, he was doubly interested now,
and coming nearer to John he said: "Money, my good fellow! Is Maude
an heiress?"
"She aint nothin' else," returned John, who proceeded to speak of
Janet and her generous gift, the amount of which he greatly
exaggerated. "Nobody knows how much 'tis," said he: "but everybody
s'poses that will and all it must be thirty or forty thousand," and
as the doctor was just then seen riding into the yard John walked
away to attend to his master's horse.
"Those butter and cheese men do accumulate money fast," said J.C.,
more to himself than to his companion, who laughingly replied, "It
would be funny if you should make this Maude my cousin instead of
Nellie. Let me see--Cousin Nellie--Cousin Maude. I like the sound of
the latter the best, though I am inclined to think she is altogether
too good for a mercenary dog like you."
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