The house of Ross, and other tales

Front matter

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O > r ^ xOOx.

Contents

EDITH GROVER.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I. Gives an Account of a Ride in an Old-fashioned

Chapter I. Rossville

F.i:w of the younger generation ever heard the name of Rossville. These few must have had their birth in its neighborhood or have heard of it from their elders. Its name cannot now be found on an}" of the later county or even township maps. It once had two hotels, — taverns the}" used to be called, when old-fashioned English was the style for names ; three or four stores at one time, many mechanic shops, a post-office, drug-store, and many pleasant dwelling-houses. The river then ran full banked, more than full sometimes ; and flourishing mills and other machinery gave importance to the place. It was not merely a point, it was an actual centre, — became such almost from the first, — for a cii’cle of three or four townships. Its place can still be found. Two or three grayhaired persons who linger in the neighborhood may be able to point out the sites of the more important buildings, mills, and stores of its prosperous days of forty years ago.

One familiar with it then can still trace the course of the diminished river near which it was planted. There is the creek which emptied into it just above, and the fine

THE HOUSE OF ROSS.

spring brook which used to run through the village. If one was to inquire for the Ross Tavern, — later the Ross Hotel, and last the Ross House, the early homestead of the Rosses, — he would be pointed to a pleasant residence nearly hidden by trees, on the higher ground, back from the present highway, and will wonder to find it so low and small. There, too, is still the Barber residence not far from it. No one could show him a vestige of the Eagle, the ostentatious rival of the Ross. The foundations of the old Marks store, once famous, might still be found. In the deca}^ of the place it was burnt ; and there was a scandal about the insurance, which somehow consecrated the ruins to perpetuity. This was after Marks went to the city.

The Methodist meeting-house disappeared long ago, with the shops and most of the former dwelling-houses. The large and beautiful spring is now monopolized by a cheese-factory. One abutment of a bridge shows where the river was formerly crossed, just above where the modern iron structure spans the narrow, shallow current now. Crossing, and gaining the high ground beyond, we turn, and wonder what has become of the once nois3^ thriving little town, the echo of whose hammers and traffic we fancied was still in our ears. The roofs of three or four tasteful farm-houses, with their outbuildings, rise amid the ripening foliage of embowering trees. The small spire of a neat brick chapel points up a little below where the town was, and the white walls of a solitary schoolhouse are all that meets the eye. Improved roads and the draft of the rising city drew off its capital and energy. Then came the railroad and finished it, as it did so many towns.

John Ross took possession of that region near seventy years ago. He purchased a large body of land ; had a family of four boys and five girls, — the eldest then quite

ROSSVILLE.

of age. Other families came with or soon followed him. Strong, resolute, active, intent on becoming rich, v/ith considerable ready means, he soon made a decided opening in the woods. He happened to be on an important thoroughfare for that day, which soon made his place accessible. As his sons became of age, they married off to the thrifty daughters of other pioneers, and lost no time in beginning for themselves in the same neighborhood. The daughters, too, made early and what were thought to be fortunate marriages, had homes in the same vicinity, and Rossville, without forethought in that direction, sprang up into a place of itself, — got the start and became a little centre.

John Ross, with little cultivation, but strong New-England sense and shrewdness, in a narrow cii'cle of moneymaking, was a man of good person, pleasant manners, and kindly in his famil3^ He had no extensive notions or plans, but was sharp and grasping within his limited reach. The older sons were lilte him : every thing prospered in their hands. They all rooted money out of the ground, as was said of them. The father began “fore-handed” and grew rich. The sons and sons-in-law prospered, and followed after. These sons and daughters were a welllooking, handsome race after their type, neat, tidy, and cared well for their persons, houses, and dress ; and while the elder Ross had on several occasions taken cruel advantage of unfortunate people, and purchased property which they were obliged to part with at ruinous rates, the}", on the whole, were well liked. With the thrift which governed their lives, most of the older members of the family, after having this world well in hand, joined the church ; thus securely investing in the future, with, however, no loss of present advantages. Mrs. Ross, the mother, was in some respects a superior woman, of whom little was

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ever said. After the birth of her 3^oungest child, between whom and the next elder several 3^ears intervened, she died.

The Waynes, from the same New-England neighborhood, came into the country a few jxars later than the Rosses, and built their homestead some three miles distant, 3’'et within the same township. The elder Wajme was a younger man and of a different t3"pe' from John Ross. Cultivated, of fine person and manners, largehearted and liberal, he was verj" popular in the new communit}^ He was enterprising, purchased land extensively, made considerable improvement, and was taken off a few months after the death of Mrs. Ross. Mrs. Wa3me, quite a remarkable woman, was left with a large famil3" of bo3’^s, and her affairs were badl3^ embarrassed. Sickness of the children added to her distress, nor had she a relative or friend able to give her needed assistance. Tenderl3^ reared, idolized by a devoted husband, like so many brave and noble women, she found resources in the hitherto unknown energies of her own well-endowed nature. There had never been much cordiality between the Rosses and Wa3'nes. There was something, just the flavor or echo of a down-East difference between them, of which neither side spoke, and of which no one outside of the two families knew. Upon the death of Mr. Wayne, Mr. Ross came forward in a very land and considerate wa3'', as was said at the time, and rendered some very useful services to the widow in the management of her affairs. Though the mother of a large famil3^, she was still a handsome woman of thirty seven or eight. So attentive became Mr. Ross that his children were uneas3", there were neighborhood rumors, when the poor widow was thunderstruck by an offer of marriage. She could not accept. She did her best, in her surprise and dismay, to make her decided

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rejection as little ungracious as possible. It was of no use. There was something hard and cruel in the narrow Ross nature, and the poor woman and her children were never forgiven. The 3’ounger Rosses, who would have torn her to pieces had she accepted, were unanimous in a declaration of war because she refused their father. . It became necessary to sell off quite all the land and most of the personal effects of the estate. The times were depressed, property was low, there was no money seeking such investment ; and at the sale the j’ounger Rosses appeared, and bid off for the rejected suitor all the valuable propert}" at ruinous prices. There was alleged collusion with the administrator, a lawsuit and scandal ; but the sale was not set aside, and so the offence for the present was compensated. The vfidow barelj* retained the homestead. She was firm and resolute ; the elder bo3’S, approaching manhood. Were brave and determined. The struggle for existence for two or three 3’ears was hard and obstinate, but they fought it through.

The countr\" had then become much more populous than it is now, and these matters were widety talked about. The Wa3’nes lived through it all. The famil3" were veiy popular. The Rosses prospered in their wa3% grew rich, and Rossville became a bus3^, flourishing little burg.

Among the later comers into that region were the Warners, well to do, who, from the first enjo3"ed a good deal of consideration. The daughters of their house, quite accomplished 3'oung ladies, were esteemed among the best, and were of the most sought after of that time. The elder of the 3'oung Wa3’nes, Forrester, made their acquaintance, and soon became attached to Sarah, the second. He was a fine, manl3^ 3^outh, proud and sensitive, and the peer of an}" 3'ouug man in the count3" ; indeed, among his acquaintances he was thought to be quite the

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first. Between him and Sarah came about a very strong mutual attachment, entirely satisfactory to the friends on both sides. It ran along for some time, — three or four years. The young man had his own way to make, and his mother and younger brothers to help forward. He and Sarah were still young ; and, though her father would have been very willing to help them, there seemed no need of hurry. Whether they were fonnally engaged was not known ; but everybody regarded them as pledged to each other, as did they, till trouble came.

In this condition of their affairs, John Ross, jun., returned from the East. He was about the age of Forrester Wayne, between whom and himself there had always been a personal dislike, doubtless arising in the family feud. He had the good looks and faults of his race well marked. He went away with a reputation for irregularities, was gone two or three years, and came back with many of the points of an arrogant coxcomb. He was at once taken with Sarah ; and in the bravery of his Eastern-made clothes, his stylish horses and carriage, he made advances to her quite directly. Just what happened between the parties was not generally known. Sarah must have given him some encouragement ; for a quarrel ensued between her and her lover, who soon after went away to Michigan, the then West. It was said that this was never made up, although Sarah refused all attentions from John Ross as was thought. Young Wayne never returned to her, and' John succeeded in approaching her again ; and finally he* bore her, a pale, sad bride, as was said, to his own house on the hill across the river from Rossville. This was accepted by the Rosses as quite a triumph, and cancelled the ' indignity put upon them by the rejection of John Ross, sen., by Forrester Wayne’s mother six or seven years before. Time ran on: strangers came to Rossville and

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helped to build it up. The elder Ross was drinking badly, as was said. The bride *on the hill became a pale, sadej^ed wife ; and other incidents in the currents of other lives came to be talked of, as the face of the country rapidly changed, growing beautiful with j^ears.

The 3’oungest of the Ross family was a daughter, who became the care of one of her eldest sisters, Mrs. Barber, who reared her with care. The}' called her Portia. She had something better than the t3'pical beauty of her sisters, with qualities in full measime, the germs of which were scarcel}^ known, even in the favored members of her house. She early evinced decided literary tastes and a turn for intellectual pursuits, phenomenal in her family. Of Portia I have a little story to tell, for which this sketch of the Ross history may serve as a background and proem.

There was also a 3'ounger Wayne, fourth or fifth of that family, whose mother called him Charles.

Portia had never heard* of her father’s rejection by Charles’s mother, nor the speculation in the A¥a3'ne lands, nor the story of the wooing of her^sad-eyed sister-in-law.

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Chapter II. How It Began

It was at the old academ}^ the first school of its kind in the oldest and most aristocratic town of the Western Reserve, where they met, and many miles from Bridgefield, in the limits of which Rossville was situate. It was Portia’s last term. She had alwa3's been homesick in Warren, pleasant as the town was, and delightfull}' as she was situated for a schoolgirl. That first academy was quite a grand institution, established in the primitive times, when, in the prevailing innocence, 3"oung ladies and gentlemen were educated together in the same classes, without possible thought of impropriet}" or the consequences of it, and none but j^oung^ ladies and gentlemen were received there. Though of man}' 5'ears’ standing, Warren was still proud of it ; and the best of the old houses of the town were open to the students from other places, who found homes in them. While at school Portia was one of the famil}' of the Edwardses, with the privileges of a daughter of the house. The term had commenced two or three days before her arrival ; and on the first of her appearance in school, she found the 3'oung ladies in a mild excitement over the new assistant. Such a dear ! Such loves of eyes and whiskers ! Such beautiful hair ! So handsome and so graceful ! She saw him first in the recitation -room. Certainl}' there was much in the frank-browed, open-ej'ed youth, w'ith his pleasant manner, to excuse, possibl}" to ■justify, the enthusiasm of the 3'oung ladies.

HOW IT BEGAN.

“ Mr. Coe was just as good — just as good as he could be,” said Miss Wilson, referring to his clerical predecessor, who died during the summer vacation.

“Altogether too good for this lower world,” added Miss Winter ; ‘ ‘ and it is not for us poor girls to murmur at the waj^s of Providence.”

“ No, I should think not. Let us be resigned,” added Miss Davis. “ Look out, Portia, that you don’t lose your heart to him.”

“ I feel quite safe,” said the unmoved girl.

This was on their way up stairs. As they entered the room, where five or six 3’oung gentlemen had jjreceded them, a 3’oung man, not as old as some of the students, standing a little apart, turned, and there was almost an exclamation from Portia, as she paused in surprise.

“It is Charles Wa3’ne ! They live near us — alwa3"s have,” she said.

And there were little suppressed exclamations from her companions. The 3"oung man bowed to the 3^oung ladies, looked an instant at Portia, and, seeing that he was recognized, he advanced and gave her his hand ver3" cordialty. The class was seated, and the exercise begun in which the 3’oung man soon lost himself. He had a quick, eloquent wa3^ of flashing up with the classes which at once inspired and quite lit up the minds of his pupils. Portia had not mastered the lesson, and in a ver3" arch, sh3^ wa3", admitted her deficiency' and was excused, f he never though tof what the girls said of him, nor 3'et that He was handsome, nor did she pa3' much attention to his glowing explanations. He was from her home — was a part of it, and must love all the dear, homety, rude, and common things about it. No, the3^ were not common nor rude. Homel3^ the3' were, for that was of home. And so this was Charles Wayne. She had not seen him for six or seven

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years. She wondered where he had been all this time. He was a clerk in the store and post-office at Rossville one winter, and she a little miss ; and she thought him the handsomest and most gallant youth she had ever seen, the swiftest skater on the river. She reme‘mbered he was quite a hunter, and became a favorite with her father, who still had a weakness for deer-stalking. Something happened in the big swamp between them about a deer, which Charles permitted the blind old man, once quite a hunter,

, to think he had helped to slay, and divided it with him. She thought it was good of Charles, and smiled to think this should come to her now. She was very glad to meet him, and glad he was a teacher. The time would be all the more pleasant and short, and she was glad the 3’oung ladies admired him. It was something for her to be proud of. When the class was dismissed he joined her and went down the stairs, and made some pleasant inquiries about Hossville and the things of Bridgefield. And, as they were old acquaintances, nothing strange was thought of it by her friends and classmates. She came soon to know why he was there. Warren then had a verj" famous ph 3 ^siciau, under whose care he was pursuing his medical studies ; and, as he had to make his wa3", he became an assistant teacher in the academ3'. He was well known in the town, and very popular. He had charge of all her classes, and found her the most docile, arch, coy, and appreciative of all the pupils he had ever seen or heard of ; slender, sylph-like, supple and perfect in her figure, of just the average height, a brunette, with wide, gra3^ e3"es, her face rich in ever-var3dng color, and a profusion of dark hair, so accustomed to her own beaut3" and grace that they seemed nothing worth to her. Teacher as he was, he soon found himself taking from her e3"es, her low pleasant voice, lessons in that older, deeper, higher lore, wherein

HOW TT BEGAN.

the wisest are often gladdest learners of the simplest and tenderest. Accustomed to the society of the refined of the sex, knowing and appreciating their waj's, easily making himself acceptable, he was at this time a stranger to the deeper emotions of passion and love ; and, lilte many a superiorly endowed man, he is destined, to thread their mazes as unseeing and unknowing, as uncertain and doubting, as the blindest and stupidest of his sex. Plenty of boy and 3’oung-man’s fancies had been his ; but nothing ever came to him lilte the light from these wide, shy eyes, as their flashes from the long, dark fringed margins came up to him. He was not one of those men who come to be in love, as it is called, without knowing it. What though their families had been at feud, he was not one to nurse old grudges. Was there any fault in her? Plenty, doubtless ; though he smiled incredulously at the idea. She certainl3" was not to blame for the narrowness and grudging spite of her elders, and he knew his mother cherished no feeling of enmity against any of the race. Old John was abused and broken with whom he used to joke about that deer. He certainly had no grudge toward John Ross the younger. If he won his wife from his brother, he was certain that could be no cause of offence. She could hardly have been worth a struggle, or his brother would not have relinquished her so easil3^ All that was in the, to him, long ago ; and he made no effort to dispel the new atmosphere of light, color, fragrance, and romance that surrounded him, and which, to the eyes of two or three others, enveloped them both. To her classmates and usual companions, they were old friends, with the things in common of living all their lives in the same neighborhood. He was much in her society ; so he was with the rest. He read to her at Mrs. Edwards’s, and came and went with the freedom of a favored visitor of the house. They saw

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nothing in it : Mrs. Edwards saw it all, and to her eyes the charm encircled them both. The coming and. going of the warm color in the maiden’s varying cheek, in his presence, the down-drooping lids, under which eyes threw their arch glances from the margins, with the furtive upward flashes at the animated manly face turned downward to her, seemed to warrant this* First love, and more sweet and delicious for being unspoken. “They are a beautiful pair, and will make a lovely couple,” she said to a friend, as the two stood a little remote from them by a window.

Anxious she was — just a little. Portia seemed younger than her years, and the most innocent, transparent, and unconscious of little maidens.

“Mr. Wa3me,” she said to him one daj^, when this thing had run on toward the end of the autumn, “you admu'e Miss Ross ver}^, ver}^ much, don’t j’ou? ”

“Very, ver}" much,” he answered warml}^, “only that is not just the word, Mrs. Edwards.”

“ You won’t forget that I am not her mother, that she is away from her friends ? ”

“ And that I am her teacher,” he answered, laughing. “ Mrs. Edwards, my perfect respect for her is as deep as m3r admiration. I shall be more jealous of her good name than the most exacting brother she has, or ever had.”

For him, through these weeks, who was so drawn to her, in the charm with which thought and reflection as 3"et had no place, it was the most natural thing in the world to unconsciously^ feel that she also was surrounded with it. He said nothing, asked no questions even of himself. The world was young, fragrant, and glorious. He permitted its warmth and radiance to flood alid saturate heart and soul. The future must care for itself.

The term came very suddenly to an end, as it seemed

HOW IT BEGAN. , to Charles ; and for once Portia was in no hurry to go home. Her youngest brother had that autumn returned from down East, and brought with him a bride fresh from the old home. They came on to Warren during the closing days of the school, where were relatives of hers, and earned Portia back to Rossville. Young Wayne left about the same time. They met him there, and lilted him. Mrs. Edwards did not part with Portia till she had told her the words of that j'oung man with her woman’s gloss. Her answer was a flood of color, almost closed eyes, in which the kind woman fancied she saw the light of a maiden’s spirit, that flrst flnds itself bathed in the brightness and warmth of a man’s love. She thought it also her duty to sa}^ something to pretty Mrs. Ross on the same general subject, who was in a frame of mind to appreciate her communication. When the 3"oung wife spoke to Portia about it, the girl merely laughed a musical heart-whole girl’s laugh, with increased color to be sure. “ Oh ! ” she said, “ that is some of Mrs. Edwards’s fancies.”

“Well, I don’t know about that : I think from what I saw that it was one of Mr. Wayne’s facts,” was the decided repl}’’ ; and then they both laughed.

“Mrs. Edwards thought it was worth telling me, and I presume she thought I would tell it when I got back to Rossville,” she said at length.

“Yes, that would be the most natural thing in the world. But Bessie, dear, do you just show yourself the most wonderful woman of the age, and don’t sa}" a word about it, and be a blessed Bess.”

“Have 3*ou an3" reason for not wishing it spoken of? Most girls would be proud and happ3' of such a thing.”

“ Well, Bessie, 3*011 are in a queerish family. We will let Mr. Wayne tell this himself in Rossville, if it is true,

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and he wants it known there. Don’t you think that is best? ”

“ What a wise little woman you are ! ” rejoined Bessie, and then they, laughed again.

PORTIA MISTRESS OP THE SITUATION. 21

Chapter III. Portia Mistress Of The Situation

Somebody told something very promptly on the return of Portia to Rossville. It was by the man of the party. Mrs. Ross did not tell of it there, though of course she told it to her husband Robert. Now, he liked Charles Wayne weU enough, and had no objections to it, if it came about in an orthodox way. On the night of his return home he merely said to his elder sisters, Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Barber, that they “ had better look out for Portia. She was dead in love with Charles Wayne, who was to keep the winter school at Rossville.’’ Here was a great to do ! There was a grand council in the afternoon of the next day, at Mrs. Barber’s, between the two ladies, at which Mrs. Harry Ross, wife of the eldest brother, assisted, — a dear, good, quiet, elderly lady, who rather liked the Waynes. She knew little of Charles, though she had pleasant recollections of him.

“What is it all about?” she asked unconcernedly, as she came in.

“ All about this young Charles Wayne and Portia,” said Mrs. Gray sharply. “I should think that was enough.”

“Why, he is going to keep our school, and Theodore (her eldest) said he was glad of it,” she answered.

“ I’ll warrant it, that is a part of the plan,” said the vexed Mrs. Gray. “How came that about, I wonder, Laura? ”

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“ Well, it seems that Mr. Marks, with his high, down- East notions, wrote to Mr. Waters, principal of the Warren Academy, for the best young-man teacher known to him, and he recommended this Charles Wayne, and Marks hked him at an awful price ; and Portia declares she shall go to the school,” at which both the others held up their hands.

“Well, what is it about Charles and Portia, anyway? ” asked Mrs. Ross.

“ Enough, I should think,” said Mrs. Gray.

‘ ‘ What does she say about it ? ”

“ She only laughs,” replied Mrs. Barber.

“ It must be bad,” replied the unconcerned Mrs. Ross.

“ Dorcas, you never were with us in these family matters,” said Mrs. Gray to her sister-in-law.

At this moment Portia came clipping into the room. “ O aunt Dorcas ! ” and flying to the placid little dame, she threw her arms about her neck and kissed her with warmth.

Portia had two nephews older than herself, and three or four nieces of quite her age ; and save Mrs. Barber, Robert, and Mrs. John Ross on the hill, she called her brothers and sisters uncles and aunts.

‘ ‘ Tell me what this fuss is all about ? ’ ’ asked aunt Dorcas of her, a little gravely.

“All what fuss, aunt?” with a little gleam from her eyes.

“You know well enough,” said Laura Barber.

“ What is it? ” asked the girl, turning to aunt Gray.

“This about 3^ou and this Charles Wa3'ne — of all fellers.”

“ He is not a ‘ feller,’ aunt, and 3^ou shall not call him one,” with ga3^ spirit.

“ The3^ sa3^ Charles is in love with her, and she don’t den3" it,” said aunt Gra3^

PORTIA MISTRESS OF THE SITUATION.

“I only hope he is,” said the girl with a laugh and coloring.

“ And that she is just ” —

A threatening finger from the young girl arrested the speech of aunt Gra3^

“ Well, Robert said we had better take care of you, anyway. I would lilie to know what that does mean,” said Laura.

“ That you are to be my dear sisters, aunts, and mothers, as you always have been,” said the girl very sweetly and caressingly.

“ Get along ! There is no doing any thing with j'ou,” said the still irate Mrs. Gray.

Aunt Dorcas,” said the girl, “ how long is it since it was a crime for a simple little girl to be admired by a very nice 3’^oung man ? ’ ’

“Simple girl, nice j'oung man, indeed!” said Mrs. Gray.

‘ ‘ I have heard a storj^ that when my father and these naughty girls,” with a look at her sisters, “ came into the countr}', a very sweet little Dorcas was brought all the wa3", and the da}^ Uncle Harr}^ was twenty-one thej^ were married; and,” turning to Mrs. Gray, “there was a 3’oung Mr. Gray in the same company", and the cla^^ after my oldest sister was eighteen, they were married,” she said naivel3^

“Well, what of that? ” asked Mrs. Barber.

“And as for Laura here,” turning to her, she was manied off when she was sixteen ; and the3" were in too much of a himy about it to be veiy particular about the bridegroom.” This was said in such a bright- spirited way as to provoke a laugh, in which Laura joined with the rest.

“ I declare, it is too bad,” she finall3^ said.

“ So they all said', as I understand,” rejoined the viva-

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cious girl. ‘‘ Now, here is poor little me ; I am nineteen

— older than any girl of the family when she was married

— and never a lover ; unless this — this ’ ’ — She laughed and blushed, and tossed her shining little head with saucy significance.

‘‘And I don’t understand a word of what it is all about,” said the good-natured Dorcas.