MISS MIXBY CH--L--TTE BR--NTE
(from Condensed Novels by Bret Harte)
CHAPTER I.
My earliest impressions are of a huge, misshapen rock, against
which the hoarse waves beat unceasingly. On this rock three
pelicans are standing in a defiant attitude. A dark sky lowers in
the background, while two sea-gulls and a gigantic cormorant eye
with extreme disfavor the floating corpse of a drowned woman in the
foreground. A few bracelets, coral necklaces, and other articles
of jewelry, scattered around loosely, complete this remarkable
picture.It is one which, in some vague, unconscious way, symbolizes, to my
fancy, the character of a man. I have never been able to explain
exactly why. I think I must have seen the picture in some
illustrated volume, when a baby, or my mother may have dreamed it
before I was born.As a child I was not handsome. When I consulted the triangular bit
of looking-glass which I always carried with me, it showed a pale,
sandy, and freckled face, shaded by locks like the color of seaweed
when the sun strikes it in deep water. My eyes were said to be
indistinctive; they were a faint, ashen gray; but above them rose--
my only beauty--a high, massive, domelike forehead, with polished
temples, like door-knobs of the purest porcelain.Our family was a family of governesses. My mother had been one,
and my sisters had the same occupation. Consequently, when, at the
age of thirteen, my eldest sister handed me the advertisement of
Mr. Rawjester, clipped from that day's "Times," I accepted it as my
destiny. Nevertheless, a mysterious presentiment of an indefinite
future haunted me in my dreams that night, as I lay upon my little
snow-white bed. The next morning, with two bandboxes tied up in
silk handkerchiefs, and a hair trunk, I turned my back upon Minerva
Cottage forever.
CHAPTER II.
Blunderbore Hall, the seat of James Rawjester, Esq., was
encompassed by dark pines and funereal hemlocks on all sides. The
wind sang weirdly in the turrets and moaned through the long-drawn
avenues of the park. As I approached the house I saw several
mysterious figures flit before the windows, and a yell of demoniac
laughter answered my summons at the bell. While I strove to
repress my gloomy forebodings, the housekeeper, a timid, scared-
looking old woman, showed me into the library.I entered, overcome with conflicting emotions. I was dressed in a
narrow gown of dark serge, trimmed with black bugles. A thick
green shawl was pinned across my breast. My hands were encased
with black half-mittens worked with steel beads; on my feet were
large pattens, originally the property of my deceased grandmother.
I carried a blue cotton umbrella. As I passed before a mirror, I
could not help glancing at it, nor could I disguise from myself the
fact that I was not handsome.Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with folded hands, calmly
awaiting the arrival of my master. Once or twice a fearful yell
rang through the house, or the rattling of chains, and curses
uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon the oppressive
stillness. I began to feel my soul rising with the emergency of
the moment."You look alarmed, miss. You don't hear anything, my dear, do
you?" asked the housekeeper nervously."Nothing whatever," I remarked calmly, as a terrific scream,
followed by the dragging of chairs and tables in the room above,
drowned for a moment my reply. "It is the silence, on the
contrary, which has made me foolishly nervous."The housekeeper looked at me approvingly, and instantly made some
tea for me.I drank seven cups; as I was beginning the eighth, I heard a crash,
and the next moment a man leaped into the room through the broken
window.
CHAPTER III.
The crash startled me from my self-control. The housekeeper bent
toward me and whispered:--"Don't be excited. It's Mr. Rawjester,--he prefers to come in
sometimes in this way. It's his playfulness, ha! ha! ha!""I perceive," I said calmly. "It's the unfettered impulse of a
lofty soul breaking the tyrannizing bonds of custom." And I turned
toward him.He had never once looked at me. He stood with his back to the
fire, which set off the herculean breadth of his shoulders. His
face was dark and expressive; his under jaw squarely formed, and
remarkably heavy. I was struck with his remarkable likeness to a
Gorilla.As he absently tied the poker into hard knots with his nervous
fingers, I watched him with some interest. Suddenly he turned
toward me:--"Do you think I'm handsome, young woman?"
"Not classically beautiful," I returned calmly; "but you have, if I
may so express myself, an abstract manliness,--a sincere and
wholesome barbarity which, involving as it does the naturalness--"
But I stopped, for he yawned at that moment,--an action which
singularly developed the immense breadth of his lower jaw,--and I
saw he had forgotten me. Presently he turned to the housekeeper:--"Leave us."
The old woman withdrew with a courtesy.
Mr. Rawjester deliberately turned his back upon me and remained
silent for twenty minutes. I drew my shawl the more closely around
my shoulders and closed my eyes."You are the governess?" at length he said.
"I am, sir."
"A creature who teaches geography, arithmetic, and the use of the
globes--ha!--a wretched remnant of femininity,--a skimp pattern of
girlhood with a premature flavor of tea-leaves and morality. Ugh!"I bowed my head silently.
"Listen to me, girl!" he said sternly; "this child you have come to
teach--my ward--is not legitimate. She is the offspring of my
mistress,--a common harlot. Ah! Miss Mix, what do you think of me
now?""I admire," I replied calmly, "your sincerity. A mawkish regard
for delicacy might have kept this disclosure to yourself. I only
recognize in your frankness that perfect community of thought and
sentiment which should exist between original natures."I looked up; he had already forgotten my presence, and was engaged
in pulling off his boots and coat. This done, he sank down in an
arm-chair before the fire, and ran the poker wearily through his
hair. I could not help pitying him.The wind howled dismally without, and the rain beat furiously
against the windows. I crept toward him and seated myself on a low
stool beside his chair.Presently he turned, without seeing me, and placed his foot
absently in my lap. I affected not to notice it. But he started
and looked down."You here yet--Carrothead? Ah, I forgot. Do you speak French?"
"Oui, Monsieur"
"Taisez-vous!" he said sharply, with singular purity of accent. I
complied. The wind moaned fearfully in the chimney, and the light
burned dimly. I shuddered in spite of myself. "Ah, you tremble,
girl!""It is a fearful night."
"Fearful! Call you this fearful, ha! ha! ha! Look! you wretched
little atom, look!" and he dashed forward, and, leaping out of the
window, stood like a statue in the pelting storm, with folded arms.
He did not stay long, but in a few minutes returned by way of the
hall chimney. I saw from the way that he wiped his feet on my
dress that he had again forgotten my presence."You are a governess. What can you teach?" he asked, suddenly and
fiercely thrusting his face in mine."Manners!" I replied, calmly.
"Ha! teach ME!"
"You mistake yourself," I said, adjusting my mittens. "Your
manners require not the artificial restraint of society. You are
radically polite; this impetuosity and ferociousness is simply the
sincerity which is the basis of a proper deportment. Your
instincts are moral; your better nature, I see, is religious. As
St. Paul justly remarks--see chap. 6, 8, 9, and 10--"He seized a heavy candlestick, and threw it at me. I dodged it
submissively but firmly."Excuse me," he remarked, as his under jaw slowly relaxed. "Excuse
me, Miss Mix--but I can't stand St. Paul! Enough--you are
engaged."
CHAPTER IV.
I followed the housekeeper as she led the way timidly to my room.
As we passed into a dark hall in the wing, I noticed that it was
closed by an iron gate with a grating. Three of the doors on the
corridor were likewise grated. A strange noise, as of shuffling
feet and the howling of infuriated animals, rang through the hall.
Bidding the housekeeper good night, and taking the candle, I
entered my bedchamber.I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow flannel nightgown,
which I could not help feeling did not agree with my complexion, I
composed myself to rest by reading Blair's Rhetoric and Paley's
Moral Philosophy. I had just put out the light, when I heard
voices in the corridor. I listened attentively. I recognized Mr.
Rawjester's stern tones."Have you fed No. 1?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said a gruff voice, apparently belonging to a domestic.
"How's No. 2?"
"She's a little off her feed, just now, but will pick up in a day
or two!""And No. 3?"
"Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are ungovernable."
"Hush!"
The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful slumber.
I dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical forest. Suddenly
I saw the figure of a gorilla approaching me. As it neared me, I
recognized the features of Mr. Rawjester. He held his hand to his
side as if in pain. I saw that he had been wounded. He recognized
me and called me by name, but at the same moment the vision changed
to an Ashantee village, where, around the fire, a group of negroes
were dancing and participating in some wild Obi festival. I awoke
with the strain still ringing in my ears."Hokee-pokee wokee fum!"
Good Heavens! could I be dreaming? I heard the voice distinctly on
the floor below, and smelt something burning. I arose, with an
indistinct presentiment of evil, and hastily putting some cotton in
my ears and tying a towel about my head, I wrapped myself in a
shawl and rushed down stairs. The door of Mr. Rawjester's room was
open. I entered.Mr. Rawjester lay apparently in a deep slumber, from which even the
clouds of smoke that came from the burning curtains of his bed
could not rouse him. Around the room a large and powerful negress,
scantily attired, with her head adorned with feathers, was dancing
wildly, accompanying herself with bone castanets. It looked like
some terrible fetich.I did not lose my calmness. After firmly emptying the pitcher,
basin, and slop-jar on the burning bed, I proceeded cautiously to
the garden, and, returning with the garden-engine, I directed a
small stream at Mr. Rawjester.At my entrance the gigantic negress fled. Mr. Rawjester yawned and
woke. I explained to him, as he rose dripping from the bed, the
reason of my presence. He did not seem to be excited, alarmed, or
discomposed. He gazed at me curiously."So you risked your life to save mine, eh? you canary-colored
teacher of infants."I blushed modestly, and drew my shawl tightly over my yellow
flannel nightgown."You love me, Mary Jane,--don't deny it! This trembling shows it!"
He drew me closely toward him, and said, with his deep voice
tenderly modulated:--"How's her pooty tootens,--did she get her 'ittle tootens wet,--
bess her?"I understood his allusion to my feet. I glanced down and saw that
in my hurry I had put on a pair of his old india-rubbers. My feet
were not small or pretty, and the addition did not add to their
beauty."Let me go, sir," I remarked quietly. "This is entirely improper;
it sets a bad example for your child." And I firmly but gently
extricated myself from his grasp. I approached the door. He
seemed for a moment buried in deep thought."You say this was a negress?"
"Yes, sir."
"Humph, No. 1, I suppose?"
"Who is Number One, sir?"
"My FIRST," he remarked, with a significant and sarcastic smile.
Then, relapsing into his old manner, he threw his boots at my head,
and bade me begone. I withdrew calmly.
CHAPTER V.
My pupil was a bright little girl, who spoke French with a perfect
accent. Her mother had been a French ballet-dancer, which probably
accounted for it. Although she was only six years old, it was easy
to perceive that she had been several times in love. She once said
to me:--"Miss Mix, did you ever have the grande passion? Did you ever feel
a fluttering here?" and she placed her hand upon her small chest,
and sighed quaintly, "a kind of distaste for bonbons and caromels,
when the world seemed as tasteless and hollow as a broken cordial
drop.""Then you have felt it, Nina?" I said quietly. "O dear, yes.
There was Buttons,--that was our page, you know,--I loved him
dearly, but papa sent him away. Then there was Dick, the groom,
but he laughed at me, and I suffered misery!" and she struck a
tragic French attitude. "There is to be company here to-morrow,"
she added, rattling on with childish naivete, "and papa's
sweetheart--Blanche Marabout--is to be here. You know they say she
is to be my mamma."What thrill was this shot through me? But I rose calmly, and,
administering a slight correction to the child, left the apartment.Blunderbore House, for the next week, was the scene of gayety and
merriment. That portion of the mansion closed with a grating was
walled up, and the midnight shrieks no longer troubled me.But I felt more keenly the degradation of my situation. I was
obliged to help Lady Blanche at her toilet and help her to look
beautiful. For what? To captivate him? O--no, no,--but why this
sudden thrill and faintness? Did he really love her? I had seen
him pinch and swear at her. But I reflected that he had thrown a
candlestick at my head, and my foolish heart was reassured.It was a night of festivity, when a sudden message obliged Mr.
Rawjester to leave his guests for a few hours. "Make yourselves
merry, idiots," he added, under his breath, as he passed me. The
door closed and he was gone.An half-hour passed. In the midst of the dancing a shriek was
heard, and out of the swaying crowd of fainting women and excited
men a wild figure strode into the room. One glance showed it to be
a highwayman, heavily armed, holding a pistol in each hand."Let no one pass out of this room!" he said, in a voice of thunder.
"The house is surrounded and you cannot escape. The first one who
crosses yonder threshold will be shot like a dog. Gentlemen, I'll
trouble you to approach in single file, and hand me your purses and
watches."Finding resistance useless, the order was ungraciously obeyed.
"Now, ladies, please to pass up your jewelry and trinkets."
This order was still more ungraciously complied with. As Blanche
handed to the bandit captain her bracelet, she endeavored to
conceal a diamond necklace, the gift of Mr. Rawjester, in her
bosom. But, with a demoniac grin, the powerful brute tore it from
its concealment, and, administering a hearty box on the ear of the
young girl, flung her aside.It was now my turn. With a beating heart I made my way to the
robber chieftain, and sank at his feet. "O sir, I am nothing but a
poor governess, pray let me go.""O ho! A governess? Give me your last month's wages, then. Give
me what you have stolen from your master!" and he laughed
fiendishly.I gazed at him quietly, and said, in a low voice: "I have stolen
nothing from you, Mr. Rawjester!""Ah, discovered! Hush! listen, girl!" he hissed, in a fiercer
whisper, "utter a syllable to frustrate my plans and you die; aid
me, and--" But he was gone.In a few moments the party, with the exception of myself, were
gagged and locked in the cellar. The next moment torches were
applied to the rich hangings, and the house was in flames. I felt
a strong hand seize me, and bear me out in the open air and place
me upon the hillside, where I could overlook the burning mansion.
It was Mr. Rawjester."Burn!" he said, as he shook his fist at the flames. Then sinking
on his knees before me, he said hurriedly:--"Mary Jane, I love you; the obstacles to our union are or will be
soon removed. In yonder mansion were confined my three crazy
wives. One of them, as you know, attempted to kill me! Ha! this
is vengeance! But will you be mine?"I fell, without a word, upon his neck.