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THERE WAS MUCH LAUGHTER BUT LITTLE MERRIMENT IN THE old house in England that night. Staglands once again had gathered beneath its venerable roof what was left of the flock it had produced, nurtured and prodded into adulthood. Tonight they had assembled to bid Godspeed to the fourth of their number to leave for America.
Elizabeth Castlereagh, the mother, in her chair by the briskly leaping flames in the great stone fireplace sat with shawl-covered feet on their hassock: the only concession to age she allowed herself. Tall, handsome, not quite austere, hex dignity was unassailable. Her capable hands, lying in her lap, were veined, but any smoothness glycerine and rose water could preserve remained fragrantly upon them. Her hair had turned but little gray and was habitually worn close to the head in careful high arrangement. Frequently it had been said that her eyes were the color of the inside of a wild violet.
Close to her hassock stood James Castlereagh, the father. Round, and barely as tall as his wife, he always maintained there was more to him than to her, only he preferred to keep his weight close to the good earth.
Elizabeth looked up at him now. By nature more given to jollity and high spirits than his wife, he now was pathetically without them. Occasionally he shook his head forlornly as though in negation, or protest, to his thoughts. Giving up the child of his old age to America, which had claimed too many of them already, was almost more than he could bear.
In pity Elizabeth turned to the four daughters who stood together at the table under the high mullioned windows. By day these windows flooded the room with east light. Tonight, they were brooding and dark and cold.
Ring for Jenks to draw the curtains, Elizabeth called gently, and come closer.
Eliza pulled the cord and old Jenks came, limping with rheumatism. The swinging red-velvet folds were warmer than the night.
In a soft swishing of taffeta and crinoline, the four women left the package they had been examining on the table. Eliza and Esther were tall like their mother but lacked her grace. Betty and Jemima were shorter and leaned toward obesity like their father. At their approach, their father eyed them somberly. Elizabeth put out her hand to them. It is a time to draw close.
She watched them as they drew up their chairs, these good, almost elderly, women who were her daughters. Noting their advancing age was ever a shock to her.
When Hannah Maria comes down, she said, remember to be merry. She is putting on a performance of bravery...But she is frightened. Having to catch that miserable train before dawn isnt helping...
Heavens, no! Jemima, closest sister to Hannah Maria in age, but still fifteen years older, spoke with unusual agitation. Just the thought of going to America gives me a chill. Starting in the fairest sunlight, or the deepest night, would yet be the end of the world to me. If my husband should say...
Yes, interrupted Eliza, the oldest sister, if your husband should say, Come, we are going to America, you would weep, but you would go, Hannah Maria isnt weeping but she is going.
Hush, not so loud! She will be down any minute.
Sh-h-h, Jethro will hear!
The four sisters turned to glance down the room where their husbands stood, laughing and talking, grouped around Jethro Howard. From that young man of them all this night, confidence and enthusiasm emanated in waves of energy. Dawn could not come too soon for him; his whole manner proclaimed it.
What possesses Jethro? Eliza protested. He is usually level-headed. And he was beginning to do well in business...
Their father turned to answer Eliza. Hes going back to the land and he wants plenty of space to do it in. With his horses and seeds and lands, James Castlereagh understood this move better than any of them. It was only that the loss of his daughter, who had turned to him since toddling days more than to her mother, was like bereavement. Aye, business, to some, is not the aim and end of existence, he added, glancing significantly at these daughters whose husbands to a man were engaged in business in London. And who was to take over his farms when he no longer was able? The matter gave him grave concern, his only two sons gone to America as they were. One already dead there.
But America! exclaimed Jemima. Its a land of no return. It has taken three of us already. Stephen and James. And Ann. Ann, their oldest sister, had been most beautiful of them all. Jemima lowered her voice, as they all did when they spoke of their sister Ann. How can Jethro take Hannah Maria to America! It is certain death. Always fighting, first with England, continually with the Indians, and now, only just finished, among themselves, North against South. What will it be next?
Jethros vibrant young voice rose for a moment above the others. So I say, if you want to make a fortune, go where fortunes are made.
A burst of half-reluctant laughter rose from the group at the end of the room. The sisters waited impatiently until the rumbling male conversation had been resumed, then Eliza, oldest of them now, spoke, her glance still upon the men.
I suppose there isnt a man among them who is not secretly envying Jethro his courage in going to America. A man feels no compunction in breaking up a family.
But of all people, Hannah Maria to go to America! Why, she is no more capable of managing a household than a kitten. And her baby! Her Jeffie, Mother, is your baby. And you know it. Yours and Laurices. Her tone implied that her own children had had no French nurses. Aside from the actual physical functions she knows absolutely nothing of the baby. Or his needs. In fact, she doesnt know he has needs, excepting that he becomes hungry too often.
Elizabeth, without answer, gazed into the fire. Her conscience accused her unbearably. It was the tragic heritage of English mothers to lose their children: to Africa, to Australia, India; New Zealand, Canada, the United States. As soon as they were old enough, boys especially, so many of them went. Four of her eight! It was a high percentage. This common urge had taken Stephen, only seventeen, and now he was dead somewhere in America...But Ann and James! In a swift gesture her hand rose to cover her eyes.
