Narcissa, or the Road to Rome; In Verona

This remark was a favorite one of the old gentleman's, and though no one knew its precise derivation, there was no doubt of its being the quintessence of scornful refusal. He used it constantly, but it never had such bitter force as when he was asked to spend money. "Ga-a-ah!" said Uncle Pinker again.

"What might you mean by that?" asked the newcomer, with some asperity. "That ain't no form of salutation ever I heard yet. Haven't you a civil tongue to use, old gentleman? You're ancient enough to have learned manners, if you'll excuse me sayin' so."

The old man snarled again. "I'm stone deef!" he said. "I don't hear nothin' you say, nor yet I don't want to hear. You needn't waste no time, fur as I'm concerned."

"Stone deef, be you?" returned the pedlar. "Well, that has its compensations, too. You wouldn't buy anything if you had the hearin' of ten, and now I can have the pleasure of tellin' you what I think of you. You skinny, starved old weasel, you're about the wickedest-lookin' piece I ever set eyes on. Real old screw, you are, if ever I saw one. Pity your folks, if you've got any; more likely you've starved 'em all off, though, and are skeered of dyin' yourself, fear of havin' another funeral to pay for. The Lord leaves folks like you for a warnin' to others, understand? – set up, kind of, to show how ugly a critter can be when he tries. Oh, you needn't snarl at me. I'm enjoyin' myself real well, I tell you. There's other ways to have a good time besides sellin', if it is my trade. Guess I'll set down a spell, uncle, sence you are so pressin'."

Uncle Pinker was almost foaming with rage by this time. He could hear no distinct words, but the insulting nature of the stranger's speech was evident from look and gesture. He was just wondering whether his strength would suffice to throw himself on the intruder, when a new figure appeared on the scene, – Narcissa, who had been busy in the back kitchen, and catching some high note of the stranger's scornful speech, now came hurrying out to see what was the matter.

She found Uncle Pinker quivering in his chair, his lean, veined hands clutching the arms, his little red eyes starting from his head with impotent fury; and sitting on the doorstep, looking up into his face with a smile of calm amusement, was the strangest figure Narcissa had ever seen.

Aperson of middle age, with strongly marked features, and a countenance of keen intelligence, but dressed in a singular manner. A suit of brown cloth, rather worn, but well-brushed and neat; loose trousers, and an odd, long-skirted coat, reaching to the knees, both coat and trousers trimmed with rows of narrow black-velvet ribbon. The person's hair was cropped short; the person's head was surmounted by a curious structure, half cap, half helmet, like that worn by Miss Deborah in "Cranford," only of far humbler materials. Beside the person, on the doorstep, lay a bag, of the kind affected by pedlars, lank and shiny, and particularly unattractive in appearance.

Such was the individual at whom Narcissa White was now staring with eyes very wide open, her stare being returned by a quizzical gaze, half smiling, and wholly shrewd and observant.

"Mornin', young lady," said the strong, clear voice. "Wonderin' what I be, are ye? fish or flesh, or red herrin', or what, hey? Well, I'll put you out of your misery. I'm a woman, that's what I am; the folks calls me Bloomer Joe. Now, then, do you want to buy anything of me?"

Here her tone changed, and her voice rose and fell in a kind of chant, dwelling with dramatic emphasis on a telling phrase here and there.

"Buy any lace, threads, or needles, pins —or– essences? Here's a looking-glass to see your face in – prettiest face I've seen along the road! (I tell that to every girl I see, and most of 'em believe it; but you ain't that kind, so you shall have the joke instead.) Real celluloid ivory combs, fit for the President's wife, sure enough. Gold beads, stockin'-supporters, teeth-brushes, —and– stickin'-plaster."

Here she dropped back into a conversational tone, opening her bag as she did so, and drawing forth some of its treasures.

"Just look at this lace, young lady! strong enough to hang yourself with, if you was feelin' that way, or to hang the old gentleman here, if you was feelin' another. I know which way I'd feel, quick enough. Not your father, is he?" she added, seeing a look of distress in Narcissa's eyes.

"Oh, no," said Narcissa, speaking for the first time. "But – he's my uncle, – at least, my father's uncle; and I – guess you'd better not talk so, please."

"All right," said the stranger. "I won't, not if it is any trouble to you. It would be meat and potatoes and apple-pie for me, if he was my uncle, to hear him get his rights for once in a way; but I see you're one of the soft-hearted ones. Want any salve? Here's a kind that will cure corns, bunions, rheumatism, croup, sore-throat, backache, horse-ail, and colic; cure most anything except a broken heart, and won't do a mite of harm to that. But you don't need any salve, and the old gentleman, he's past it. Well, then, here's ribbons, all colors of the rainbow, – red, yeller, blue, see? handsome they are, and cheap as good counsel. Aha! you'd like to see them, hey?"

Narcissa had indeed changed color at sight of the bright ribbons, and she now gave an anxious glance at Uncle Pinker, who was still fuming and snorting in his chair.

"You, Narcissy White, send this critter away, can't ye?" he snarled; "or else go into the house yourself, and go to work, not stand foolin' here, with the work all on the floor. Go 'long, d' ye hear? This woman, or feller, or whatever she calls herself, can talk till she's hoarse; she won't hurt me, nor she won't get nothin' out of me."

"Could I get a drink of water, do you s'pose?" the pedlar asked quietly, paying no attention to the angry old man. "Needn't trouble to bring it out; I'll go right into the house with you, if you've no objections."

She followed Narcissa into the house before the latter could make any remonstrance, and shut the door after her.

"He don't reelly disturb me," she said, "not a mite; but we can trade better in here. Let me try some of the ribbons on your hair. I don't often see such hair as this on my tramps, and that's no compliment, but the plain truth."

"Oh!" cried Narcissa, in distress. "You're real kind, but please don't. I haven't got any money to buy things with, and I couldn't take your time for nothing. They are handsome, ain't they? Oh, that yellow is just elegant, isn't it? It's like the buttons; I mean like the tansy blossoms. I thank you for showin' them to me, I'm sure, but it ain't any use for you to."

"Don't he pay you for workin' here?" asked the pedlar, with a sharp glance.

"Yes, he does pay me," Narcissa answered, – "a dollar and a half a week. But – but I don't get it very reg'lar, sometimes, and I'm saving up to buy me a dress. I need one bad, to wear to meetin'."

The pedlar frowned. It was against her principles to leave any house where she knew there was money, without selling at least a box of salve; but this seemed a hard case.

"A dollar and a half a week!" she muttered scornfully. "The old caraway seed! he'd better go and live in Rome, and be done with it. He'll find plenty of company there."

Narcissa looked up with wide-open eyes.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because Rome is the skinniest place on this round earth," was the reply; "and I think 'twould suit your uncle down to the ground."

Still the girl gazed. "I guess you're mistaken," she said quietly. "I guess you never was there, was you?"

"Never till yesterday," replied the woman, "and never want to be there again. You see, this isn't my own country at all, as you may say. I belong in another part of the State, and most generally keep to my own beat, havin' my regular customers, understand? and goin' round amongst 'em. But oncet in a while the fancy takes me to roam a little, and see other parts; and so I come round through Damascus and Solon, and passed through Rome yesterday."

"Oh!" cried Narcissa, breathlessly. "You did? do tell me! and wasn't it elegant? I don't see how you could come away. Did you walk about, and see all them handsome buildings? and did you see the folks?"

The pedlar gazed at her in wonder. The girl's eyes were like stars, her whole face alight with enthusiasm. What did it mean?

"Handsome buildin's?" she repeated. "In Rome? I'll tell you what I saw, child, and then you'll know. I saw the forlornest place on this earth, I don't care where the next may be. I saw rocks and turkeys, and turkeys and rocks. The street (if you can call it a street; 'twould be called a hog-wallow, down where I come from) is solid rock where it ain't mud, and solid mud where it ain't rock. There's a house here and a house there, and they all look as if they was tryin' to get away from each other, but didn't darse to move for fear of fallin' down.

"The folks I saw were as lean as their own turkeys, and I can't say no further than that. I tried to sell 'em some of my salve; told 'em 'twould heal the skin where 'twas broke with the bones comin' through, but they was past jokin' with.

"I tell you, child, Rome is the – Why, what's the matter?" The good woman stopped suddenly, for Narcissa was trembling all over, and her face shone white in the dim, half-lighted room.

"I – I don't understand you!" she cried wildly. "There's some mistake; you went to the wrong place, and never saw Rome at all. Look here!" and she led the way swiftly across the hall, into the other room, the room into which she had taken Romulus Patten the day before. She almost ran up to the picture, and motioned the pedlar, with an imperious gesture, strange in so gentle a creature, to look at it. "That is Rome!" cried Narcissa. "You went to the wrong place, I tell you. This – this is Rome!"

The woman drew out a pair of spectacles, and fitted them on her nose with exasperating deliberation. She took a long look at the picture, and then turned to the trembling girl, with a kind light of pity in her eyes struggling with amusement.

"You poor – deluded – child!" she said at length. "Who ever told you that was Rome, I should like to know?"

"But it says so!" cried Narcissa. "Can't you read? 'Rome.' There it is, in plain letters; and I – don't – " she wanted to say "I don't believe you!" but the blue eyes that met hers steadily showed nothing but truth and kindness.

"So it is Rome, dear!" said the pedlar, speaking now very gently. "But it's ancient Rome, over in Europe; Italy, they call the country. Where the ancient Romans lived, don't you know? Julius Cæsar, and all those fellers who cut up such didoes, hundreds of years ago? Don't tell me you never went to school, nor learned any history."

"I – I went for a spell!" Narcissa faltered. "I had to leave when I was fourteen, because I was wanted to home, and we hadn't only got to the Battle of Lexington in history. I did hope to learn about the Revolution, to home, but father's wife didn't think much of readin', and she burned up the book."

There was a silence, and then the good-natured pedlar began fumbling in her bag.

"It's a livin' shame!" she cried indignantly. "Here – no, it ain't, neither. Well! I did think, much as could be, that I had two or three little books here, and I should have been pleased to give you one, dear, just for keeps, you know. But they don't seem to be here. Well, never mind! I was goin' to ask if you wouldn't like this piece of yeller ribbon you seemed to take to. It's a real good piece, and I should be pleased – I declare, child, I do feel bad to have spoiled your pretty notion of Rome. I s'pose you thought likely you'd go there some day, hey? well, well! sit down, and let me put this ribbon on your hair. You no need to be scairt of me. I act kind o' wild sometimes, like I did with your uncle, but it's four parts fun. I'm well known up our way, and anybody'll tell you I come of good stock, if I am crazy enough to wear sensible clothes, that don't hender me walkin' nor settin'. Mis' Transom, my name is. And he called you Narcissy, didn't he? Why, I had a cousin once, name of Narcissy; it's not a common name either, and I allers thought it was real pretty. Set down here, dear, and let's talk a spell."

Thus the kind woman rattled on, watching the girl keenly the while. She was making time for her, giving her a chance to recover from what was evidently a heavy blow.

But Narcissa scarcely heard her. She was dazed; her dream was shattered, her glorious city laid in ruins, the beauty and romance of her whole life dashed away, as a rude touch dashes the dew from the morning grass.

As she sat, trying to realize it, trying to think that it really was not so much, that there would be other pleasant things, perhaps, to fill the barren working days, and gild the grayness of the long lonely Sabbaths, – as she sat thus, a new thought flashed into her mind, piercing like the thrust of a sword.

Her friend, Romulus Patten! She had sent him off on a false scent, had lied to him about the place, the city – she could hardly bear even to think of its dishonored name now. He had gone there, thinking to find what she had told him about, – the stately houses, the arches, the soft sunshine gilding all. What would he think of her when he found it was all a cheat, a lie? He had been kind to her, had seemed to care about her as nobody had ever done in her forlorn young life; and this was how she had repaid him!

She started up, shrinking as if from some cruel sting. "I must go and tell him!" she cried. "I lied to him, though I didn't know it was a lie. I must go and find him, and tell him I didn't mean to."

"Tell who?" cried the pedlar, catching her by the arm. "What is it troubles you so, Narcissy? Who did you lie to, I should like to know? Don't believe she could tell a decent lie if 'twas to save her own soul," she added to herself.

But Narcissa did not heed her.

She had taken down her sunbonnet from a nail, and was tying it under her chin with trembling fingers, with a feverish haste that took no note of anything.

"Where are you going?" cried Mrs. Transom, now beginning to be frightened at the girl's distracted looks. "You're never going out of the house feeling like this? You'll have a fit of sickness, sure as you're alive, and then where'll you be? and 'tis all foolishness, too, I'll be bound. I can't understand a word you say. And there's a storm coming up, too. I see it as I was coming along, and was reckoning on finding shelter here when I fust stopped to speak to the old gentleman. There, hear the thunder this very minute! Narcissy! Why, good land of deliverance, she's gone!"

The storm came on very suddenly, – first, a low bank of cloud heaving in sight on the western horizon, long and misshapen, like the back of a kraken; then the whole monster revealed, rising across the sky, tossing monstrous arms about, showing ugly tints of yellow, ugly depths of purple and black.

There was no lightning at first, only low mutterings of thunder, and every now and then a pale lifting of the darkness, as if the monster were opening his cavernous jaws, showing glimpses of dim horror within. Then, of a sudden, with no note of warning, the whole sky sprang into flame, the whole air was a roar and a bellow, deafening the ears, stunning the senses, – and the storm broke over the road to Rome.

The rain struck aslant, driving a spray before it, as of a mountain stream. In five minutes no road was to be seen, – only a long stretch of brown water, hissing and writhing under the scourge of the rain and wind. A horse came plodding carefully along, crouching together as well as he could, picking his way through the water. The two men in the buggy behind him were crouching, too, and trying to hide behind the rubber boot. It was some comfort to think that they were trying to keep dry, though both knew that they were already drenched to the skin.

"It's lucky for me that I met you," said the younger of the two, shaking himself, and sending a shower of spray in all directions.

"P'r'aps 'tis just as well," replied the other man, with a chuckle. "You'd hardly have known yourself from a muskrat by this time, if you'd had to foot it from Rome here. Been stoppin' there?"

"Stopping as long as I cared to," said the youth, who was no other than our friend Romulus Patten. "I got there last night, and was good and ready to come away this morning. I'm travelling for Brown's Nurseries, and there don't seem to be any call for any of our goods in Rome. Stone-crop's the only plant they raise much of, I guess."

"Well, that's so," said the elder man. "That's so, every time. I never knew but one man that could make anything grow in Rome, and he carted all the dirt three miles, over from North Podley, before he could make a seed grow. Yes, sir, he did so. Mighty poor country up that way. Some say the Rome folks don't see any garden-truck from year's end to year's end, and that if you ask a Rome girl to cook you up a mess of string beans, she takes the store beans and runs 'em on a string, and boils 'em that way; but I dono. I'm from Vi-enny way myself."

"My gracious! what's that?"

The whole world had turned to livid white for a moment, dazzling and blinding them; but still they had seen something on the road, something like a human form, torn and buffeted by the wind and the furious rain, but staggering on towards them with uncertain steps.

"My God! it's a woman!" cried Romulus Patten. "Stop your horse, and let me get out. A woman, alone in this storm!"

He sprang to the ground, and holding his arm before his face to keep off the blinding rain, made his way towards the forlorn figure splashing through the water, now ankle deep in the road, stumbling, often on the point of falling.

"Hold up, lady!" he called out, in his cheery voice. "There's friends here! Hold up just a minute!"

At the sound of his voice the woman stopped and seemed to shudder and clasp her hands. "I never meant it!" she cried out wildly. "I can't see you, I'm most blind, but I know your voice. I never meant to lie to you about Rome. I – thought – 'twas all true; and when I found out, I – came – to tell you. I never meant to send you there on a lie."

"Narcissa!" cried Romulus Patten. "Oh, Lord! Oh, you poor little thing! and you thought I didn't know? I'd ought to be shot, that's what I ought to be. Here, you poor little thing, let me take your hands! They're like wet ice, and you're shivering all over. Oh, dear me! come with me, and get right into this buggy out of the rain. Oh, Lord! and I let you go on thinking I didn't know!"

Half leading, half carrying her, he made his way to the buggy, and then fairly lifted her in his strong young arms to lay her on the seat; but here an obstacle was interposed in the shape of another arm as strong as his, and a good deal bigger. "Easy, there!" said the owner of the buggy. "Seems to me you're makin' yourself rather too free, young feller. Do you think I'm goin' to have that gal brought in here, runnin' all the rivers of Babylon? Who in Jerusalem is she, anyway? Some of your folks?"

Romulus Patten's face was streaming with cold rain, but he flushed as if a flame had swept over him.

"She's the young lady I'm going to marry," he said. "Will you take her in, or shall I carry her home this way?"

"Now you're talking!" the stranger said, removing his arm and making way. "Why didn't you speak up before, sonny? Here, give me a holt of her!" He lifted Narcissa gently into the buggy, and drew her close to his side, laying her head well up on his shoulder so that she could breathe easily. "Family man," he explained. "Gals of my own. Now you reach under the seat there, and bring out a shawl you'll find."

Romulus obeyed, and half angry, half pleased, watched the stranger as he deftly wrapped the shawl round the fainting girl, and put her dripping hair tenderly off her face.

"Allers take a shawl along," he explained further. "Wife enjoys poor health, and have to be ready for a change of wind. Comes in handy, don't it? Now get in, young feller, and tell me where to drive to. You needn't look down in the mouth, either, 'cause you don't know everything in creation yet. Time enough to learn, and you're likely to learn easy, I should say.

"And you rest comfortable, my dear," he added, speaking to Narcissa as if she were a small child. "Here's your friend alongside of you, and you're just as safe as you would be in the best stuffed chair in the settin'-room at home. Fetch your breath, like a good girl, and try to look about you."

But Narcissa heard never a word, for she had fainted.

An hour later, Romulus Patten and Mrs. Transom were sitting by Narcissa's bedside, watching her. She had fallen into a deep, childlike sleep, and their low voices did not disturb her.

"The old gentleman was so mad he was all cheesed up," the pedlar was saying. "There! I was fairly sorry for him, old weasel as he is; so I let him go on for a spell, till he was clean tuckered out, and then I e'en took him up and put him to bed, same as if he was a child. Glad enough he was to get there too, if he was mad. Then I took and made him some warm drink, and gave him to understand I'd stay by till Narcissy come back, and here I be. And now, young man," she added, fixing her keen blue eyes on Romulus's face, "I've got a word to say to you. You let fall something when you was bringin' this child in – I won't say that I wasn't mighty glad to see her, and you, too, – but you let on something about keepin' company with her. Now, I want to know right here, what you meant, and who you are, and all about it. Oh, you may look at my pants much as you're a mind to. I come of good folks, and I dress as seems fit to me, and I don't care in any way, shape, or manner what folks say or think. I've been snoopin' round some, since I put that old man to bed, and I found the family Bible; and this child is the lawful daughter of my cousin, Narcissy Merrill, that I haven't heard of this twenty years. Bein' so, I'm goin' to stand by her, as is right and proper; so, now I'll hear what you've got to say. I've as good a right to do for her as that old skimp-jack in there, if he is her father's uncle."

Romulus Patten spoke out frankly. He had "taken to" Narcissa from the first moment he saw her. When was that? Well, it wasn't long ago, it was true. It was only yesterday; but he wasn't one to change, and he had never seen a girl yet that he would look twice at. And when she came, in all that awful storm, just to tell him, – here the young man choked a little, and the woman liked him the better for it, – he made up his mind then, he went on, all in a minute, that she should be his wife; and she should, if so be she was willing. He would go back to the place and see if he could get a job in the garden; he might have had one now, but he was some tired and had thought it would rest him to travel a spell. He would quit travelling now, and had little doubt that he could have a good place.

He knew of a pleasant rent – in that part of the country a hired tenement is known as a "rent" – with four rooms, that belonged to a friend of his, and he could get that, he guessed. In short, the sooner Narcissa got away from Uncle Pinker the better, in his opinion, and he was ready to take her, the first day she would go. That was all he had to say for himself; but he presumed Mr. Brown would give him a character if he was asked. He had worked for Browns three years, and had no reason to think they weren't satisfied with him.

When Romulus had finished his little speech, which left him flushed and tremulous, yet with a brave light in his eyes, and a tender look as he glanced towards his love where she lay sleeping quietly, Mrs. Transom gazed at him for a while in silence; then she held out her hand and grasped his heartily.

"I guess you'll do," she said. "I guess you're the right sort. Now, I'll tell you what. You go along and get your place, and see about your rent. Don't engage it, but get the refusal of it, if it belongs to a friend, as you say. Then you come back here and find your girl all well and peart again, and you say your say, and let her say hers. You don't want to take advantage of her being sick and weakly now – now, you no need to flare up! I say you don't want to, and I mean it. You'll need a box of my salve, if you're so thin-skinned as all that comes to.

"You go along, I say, and when you come back, come over to my place, Tupham Corner, third house from the cross-road, white house with a yeller door. Everybody knows Mis' Transom's house. You'll find your gal there, and you'll marry her there, with her mother's cousin to stand up with her. There, don't be scairt! Pity some gals haven't got the trick of blushin' as you have, young man. I've got as good a black silk as any in Tupham or Cyrus, and nobody's goin' to say 'Bloomer Joe' round where my own folks live, you'd better believe. What say? Like my idee, or have you got a better one yourself?"