The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mistress of the Manse, by J. G. Holland

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Title: The Mistress of the Manse

Author: J. G. Holland

Release Date: July 29, 2004 [EBook #13052]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISTRESS OF THE MANSE ***

Produced by Al Haines

THE MISTRESS OF THE MANSE

BY

J. G. HOLLAND

NEW YORK

SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO

1874

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by

SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO.,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

JOHN V. TROW & SON,

PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS,

205-213 East 12th St.,

NEW YORK.

CONTENTS.

PRELUDE LOVE'S EXPERIMENTS LOVE'S PHILOSOPHIES LOVE'S CONSUMMATIONS

LOVE'S EXPERIMENTS.

I.

  A fluttering bevy left the gate
  With hurried steps, and sped away;
  And then a coach with drooping freight,
  Wrapped in its film of dusty gray,
  Stopped; and the pastor and his mate

  Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door,
  And closed it on the gazing street.
  "Oh Philip!" She could say no more.
  "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my sweet,—
  The old life closed: the new before!"

  "Dinah, the mistress!" And the maid,
  Grown motherly with household care
  And loving service, and arrayed
  In homely neatness, took the pair
  Of small gloved hands held out, and paid

  Her low obeisance; then—"this way!"
  And when she brought her forth at last,
  To him who grudged the long delay,
  He found the soil of travel cast,
  And Mildred fresh and fair as May.

II

  "This is our little Manse," he said.
  "Now look with both your curious eyes
  Around, above and overhead,
  And seeing all things, realize
  That they are ours, and we are wed!

  "Walk through these freshly garnished rooms—
  These halls of oak and tinted pearl—
  And mark the cups of clover-blooms,
  Cut fresh, to greet the stranger-girl,
  By those whose kindliness illumes

  The house beyond the grace of flowers!
  They greet you, mantled by my name,
  And rain their tenderness in showers,—
  Responding to the double claim
  Of love no longer mine, but ours.

  "This is our parlor, plain and sweet:
  Your hands shall make it half divine.
  That wide, old-fashioned window-seat
  Beneath your touch shall grow a shrine;
  And every nooklet and retreat,

  And every barren ledge and shelf,
  Shall wear a charm beyond the boon
  Of treasure-bearing drift, or delf,
  Or dreams that flutter from the moon;
  For it shall blossom with yourself.

  "This is my study: here, alone,
  Prayerful to Him whom I adore,
  And gathering speech to make him known,
  Your far, quick footsteps on the floor,
  Your breezy robe, your cheerful tone,

  As through our pretty home you speed
  The busy ministries of life,
  Will stir me swifter than my creed,
  And be more musical, dear wife,
  Than sweep of harp, or pipe of reed.

  "Here is our fairy banquet hall!
  See how it opens to the East,
  And looks through elms! The board is small,
  But what it bears shall be a feast
  At morn, and noon, and evenfall.

  "There will you sit in girlish grace,
  And catch, the sunrise in your hair;
  And looking at you, from my place,
  I shall behold more sweet and fair
  The morning in your smiling face.

  "And guests shall come, and guests shall go,
  And break with us our daily bread;
  And sometime—sometime—do you know?
  I hope that—dearest, lift your head;
  And let me speak it, soft and low!

  "The grass is sweeter than the ground:
  Can love be better than its flowers?
  Oh sometime—sometime—in the round
  Of coming years, this board of ours
  I hope may blossom and abound

  With shining curls, and laughing eyes,
  And pleasant jests and merry words,
  And questions full of life's surprise,
  And light and music, when the birds
  Have left us to our gloomy skies.

  "Now mount with me the old oak stair!
  This is your chamber—pink and blue!
  They asked the color of your hair,
  And draped and fitted all for you,
  My fine brunette, with tasteful care.

  "The linen is as white as snow;
  The flowers are set on every sconce;
  And e'en the cushioned pin-heads show
  Your formal "welcome," for the nonce,
  To the sweet home their hands bestow.

  "Declining to the river's marge,
  See, from this window, how the turf
  Runs with a thousand flowers in charge
  To meet the silver feet of surf
  That fly from every passing barge!

  "Along that reach of liquid light
  Flies Commerce with her countless keels;
  There the chained Titan in his might
  Turns slowly round the groaning wheels
  That drag her burdens, day and night.

  "And now the red sun flings his kiss
  Across its waves from finger-tips
  That pause, and grudgingly dismiss
  The one he loves to closer lips,
  And Moonlight's quiet hour of bliss.

  "And here comes Dinah with the steam
  Of evening cups and evening food,
  And coal-red berries quenched with cream,
  And ministry of homely good
  That proves, my dear, we do not dream."

III.

  He heard the long-drawn organ-peal
  Within his chapel call to prayer;
  And, answering with ready zeal,
  He breathed o'er Mildred's weary chair
  These words, and sealed them with a seal:

  "Only an hour: but comfort take;—
  This home and I are wholly yours;
  And many bosoms fondly ache
  To tell you, that while life endures,
  You shall be cherished for my sake.

  "So throw your heart's door open wide,
  And take in mine as well as me;
  Let no poor creature be denied
  The grace of tender courtesy
  And kindness from the pastor's bride."