Jessamine by Lucy M Montgomery

Books at bedtime by calming anxiety. Jessamine by Lucy Montgomery. When the vegetable man knocked, Jessamine went to the door wearily. She felt quite well acquainted with him.

He had been coming all spring and his cheery greeting always left the pleasant after-go behind him. And it was not a vegetable man after all, at least not the right one. This one was considered rubbly younger. He was tall and sunburned with a ready, smiling face and keen, pleasant blue eyes.

And he had a spray of honey suckle pinned on his coat. On any garden stuff this morning, Jessamine shook her head. We always get ours from Mr. Bell. This is his day to come.

Well, I guess you won't see Mr. Bell for a spell. He fell off a loft out of his place yesterday and broke his leg. I'm his nephew and I'm going to fill his place till he gets round again. Oh, I'm so sorry for Mr. Bell, I mean.

Have you any green peas? Yes. Heaps of them are bring them in, anything else? Today, said Jessamine, with a wistful glance at the honey suckle.

Mr. Bell Jr. saw it. In an instant, the honey suckle was unpinned and handed to her. If you like poses, you're welcome to this. I guess your fond of flowers, he added, as he noted the flash of delight that passed over her pale face.

Yes, indeed, they put me in so mind of home of the country. Oh, how sweet this is. Your country bred then, been in the city long. Since last fall, I was born and brought up in the country.

I wish I was back. I can't get over being home sick. This honey suckle seems to bring it right back. We had honey suckles all around our porch at home.

You don't like the city then. Oh no, I sometimes feel it's up I should smother here. I shall never feel at home, I'm afraid. Where did you live before you came here?

Up at Middleton, it was an old fashioned place, but pretty. Our house was covered with vines, and there were trees all about it, and great green fields beyond. But I don't know what makes me tell you this, I forgot I was talking to a stranger. Pretty little women, Salilla quies Dan Drew Bell as he drove away.

She doesn't look happy though. I suppose she's married some city chap and has to live in town. I guess it don't agree with her. Her eyes had a real hungry look in them over that honey suckle.

He seemed near about crying when she talked to the country. Jezamine felt more like crying than ever when she got back to her work, her head ached, and she was ever so tired. The tiny kitchen was hot and stifling. How she longed for the great roomy kitchen in her old home, with its spotless floor and floods of sunshine streaming in through the maple's outside.

There was a moon to live and breathe there, and from the door one looked out over green wind-repauled meadows under a glorious arch of pure blue sky, away to the purple hills in the distant. Jezamine Stacy had always lived in the country when her sister died and the old home had to go. Jezamine could only accept the shelter offered by her brother John Stacy, who did business in the city. Of her stylish sister-in-law Jezamine was absolutely in awe.

At first Mrs. John was by no means pleased at the necessity of taking a country sister into her family circle. One day when the servant girl took a tantrum and left Mrs. John found it very convenient to have in the house a person who could step into Eliza's place as promptly and efficiently as Jezamine could. Indeed she found it so convenient that Eliza never had a successor. Jezamine found herself in the position of maid of all work and kitchen drench for the board and clothes.

She never complained but she grew thinner and paler as the winter went by. She had worked his heart on the farm but it was close confinement and weary routine that told on her. Mrs. John was exacting and quarreless. John was absorbed in his business worries and had no time to waste on his sister.

And now when the summer had come her homesickness was almost unbearable. The next day Mr. Bell came he handed her a big bunch of sweet prairie roses. "Here you are," he said heartily. "I took the liberty to bring you these today seeing you so fond of poses.

The country rode to pink with them now. Why don't you get your husband to bring you out for a drive someday? You'd be as welcome as a lark at my farm." I will when he comes along but I haven't seen him yet.

Mr. Bell gave a prolonged whistle. "Excuse me. I thought you were Mrs. Sump thinker rather for sure. Aren't you mistress here?"

"Oh no, my brother's wife is mistress here. I'm only Jezamine." She laughed again. She was holding the roses against her face and her eyes sparkled over them roguesely.

A vegetable man looked at her admiringly. You're a country rose yourself, Miss and you ought to be blooming out in the fields instead of wilting it here. I wish I was. Thank you so much for the roses, Mr.

Bell and Drew Bell, that's my name. I live out at pine pastures. We're all bells out there. Can't throw a stone without hitting one.

I'm glad you like the roses. After that, the vegetable man brought Jezamine a bokeh every trip. Now it was a big bunch of field ases or golden bucked cubs. Now a green glory of spicy ferns and then a cluster of old-fashioned garden flowers.

They keep life in me, Jezamine told him. They were great friends by this time. Drew, she knew little about him but she felt instinctively that he was manly and kindhearted. One day when he came Jezamine met him almost gleefully.

"No, nothing today, there is no dinner to cook." You don't say, "Where are the folks?" But gone on an excursion and they won't be back until tonight. They won't.

"Well, I'll tell you what to do. You get ready and when I'm through my rounds, we'll go for a drive up a country." "Oh, Mr. Bell, but won't it be too much bother for you?" "Well, I reckon not.

You want an excursion as well as other folks and you shall have it." "Oh, thank you so much. Yes, I'll be ready. You don't know how much it means to me."

Paul, little creature, said Mr. Bell, as he drove away. "It's downright cruelty. That's what it is, to keep her pinned up like that. You might as well coup up a lock in her henhouse and expect it to thrive and sing.

I'd like to give that brotherhood her as a piece of my mind." When he lifted her up to the high seat of his express wagon that afternoon, he said, "Now, I want you to do something. Just shut your eyes and don't open them again until I tell you to." Jasmine laughed in her bade.

Finally she heard him say, "Look." Jasmine opened her eyes with a little cry. They were on a remote country road, cool and dim and quiet in the very heart of the beach woods. Long banners of light fell afwart of the gray bones.

Along the roadside grew sheets of feathery ferns. Above, the sky was gloriously blue. The air was sweet with a wild woodsy smell of the forest. Jasmine lifted and clasped her hands in rapture.

"Oh, how lovely. Do you know where we're going?" said Mr. Bell delightedly. "Out, my farm at Pine Pastures. My aunt keeps house for me and she'll be real glad to see you.

You're just going to have a real good time this afternoon." They had a delightful drive to begin with and presently Mr. Bell turned into a wide lane. This is cloverside farm. "I'm proud of it.

I'll admit there isn't a finer place in the county." What do you think of it? "Oh, it is lovely. It is like home.

Look at those great fields. I'd like to go down and line that clover." Mr. Bell lifted her from the wagon and marched her up a flurry garden path. "You shall do it and everything else you want to.

Here, aunt, this is the young lady I spoke of. Make her at home while I tend to the horses." Miss Bell was a pleasant faced woman with silver hair and kind blue eyes. She took Jezomine's hand in a friendly fashion.

"Come in dear. You're welcome as a June Rose." When Mr. Bell returned, he found Jezomine standing on the porch with a hands full of honey-suckle and her cheeks pink with excitement. "I declare you've got roses already!" exclaimed.

If they'd only stay now and not bleach out again. What's first now? "I don't know. There are so many things I want to do.

Those flowers in the garden are calling me and I want to go down to that hollow and pick bus to cups and I want to stay right here and look at things." Mr. Bell laughed, "Come with me to the pasture and see my Jersey calves. There's something worth seeing. Come, aunt, this way Miss Stacy."

She led the way down the lane, the two women following together. Jezomine thought she must be in a pleasant dream. The whole afternoon was a feast of delight to her starved heart. When sunset came she sat down, tied out the radiant on the porch step.

Her hat had slipped back and her hair was curling around her face. Her dark eyes were a glow. The roses still bloomed in her cheeks. Mr. Bell looked at her as mireingly.

If a man could see that pretty sight every night he thought, "And great Scott, why can't he? What's to prevent I'd like to know?" When the moon rose Mr. Bell brought his team around and they drove back through the clear night. He passed the wonderful stillness of the great beech woods and the wide fields.

The farmer looked sideways at his companion. The little thing wants to be petted and looked after he thought, "She's just pining away for home and love, and why can't she have it? She's dying by inches in that whole back-in-town." Chesamine, quite unsuspecting the farmer's meditations, was living over again in fancy the joys of the afternoon, the ramble in the pasture, the drink of water from the spring under the hillside pines, the bountiful, old-fashioned country supper in the vine-shaded dining room, the cup of new milk in the dairy at sunset, and all the glory of skies and meadows and trees.

How could she go back to her cage again? The next week Mr. Bell Sr. resumed his visit and the young farmer came no more to the side door of number 49. Chesamine missed him greatly. Mr. Bell Sr. never bought her clover or honey suckle.

Not one day, his nephew suddenly reappeared. Chesamine opened the door for him and her face lighted up. But Mr. Bell saw that she had been crying. Did you think I'd forgotten you, he asked?

Not a bit of it. Harvest was on and I couldn't get clear before. I've come to ask you when you intend to take another drive to cloverside farm. What have you been up to?

You look as if you've been working too hard. I haven't felt very well. I'm glad you came today Mr. Bell. Perhaps I shall not see you again.

And I wanted to say goodbye and thank you for all your kindness. Goodbye. Why? Where are you going?

My brother went west a week ago, faltered Chesamine. She could not bring herself to tell a clear-eyed farmer that John Stacey had failed in a being obliged to start for the west without saying goodbye to his creditors. His wife and I are going to next week. Oh Chesamine exclaim Mr. Bell in despair.

Don't go, you mustn't. I want you at cloverside farm. I came today on purpose to ask you. I love you and I'll make you happy if you'll marry me.

Do you say Chesamine? Chesamine by way of answer sat down on the nearest chair and began to cry. "Oh don't," said the willer in distress, "I don't want to make you feel bad. If you don't like the idea, I won't mention it again."

"Oh, it isn't that, but I thought nobody cared what became of me. You are so kind, I'm afraid I'd only be a bother to you." "I'll risk that. You shall have a happy home little girl.

Will you come to it?" "Yes." "It was a very indistinct and faltering, but Mr. Bell heard it and could not sit at it the most eloquent answer." Mrs. John fumed and sulked and choked to consider herself hoodwinked and injured.

Mr. Bell was a resolute man and a few days later he came for the last time to number 49 and took his bride away with him. As they drove through the breach woods, put his arm tindly around the shy, smiling little woman beside it and said, "You'll never be sorry for this idea." And she never was.