Free A Bloodsmoor Romance by Joyce Carol Oates Page A

whatsoever of her own safety, Octavia had dashed forward to seize her baby sister, and to save her, the while screaming for aid. Thus “the little mother” prevented a tragedy from occurring, and was so innocent of heart, and so devoid of vanity, that she but fiercely blushed at the professed gratitude of all, and pronounced that “Lord Jesus had taken Samantha in His arms—and not Octavia!”
    Upon another upsetting occasion, some years later, Octavia was the sole girl to remain composed when Constance Philippa cut her face whilst playing in one of the apple trees behind the Octagonal House—a grotesque, and, it hardly needs to be said, forbidden activity, quite inappropriate for a young female. Constance Philippa was then eleven years of age, and, though fully clothed, in skirts, petticoats, cotton stockings, morning cap, and even a tulle veil, to protect her fresh complexion against the sun’s coarse rays, she had wantonly decided to climb a tree, as she had witnessed the servants’ sons do, back in the woods, as much for the unlikely sport of it, as for purposes of shocking, and titillating, her small audience, consisting that day of little Miss Delphine Martineau, and little Cousin Rowena, as well as her own sisters. (Alas, this bold action prognosticates great sorrow, and not a little scandal, to come—the which will be, I am gravely sorry to say, well borne out, by Constance Philippa’s behavior, in the darksome years that lie ahead.) I am not certain as to the accident’s precise details, but, within minutes, after the headstrong young miss had climbed but ten or twelve feet above the ground, she lost her footing, and slipped, and fell, scraping her tender hands, and badly ripping her bodice, and, most alarming of all, so cutting her jaw, that blood sprang forth, and copiously flowed.
    Well may the sensitive reader recoil, in alarm, pity, and disgust; and, doubtless, as I am bound to confess I do, experience some momentary faintness, at the mere pictur’d notion, of a young girl of good family falling through the air, shrieking for help, and so badly injuring her delicate face, that a great quantity of blood freely flowed, for all to see! Indeed, three of the witnesses—Malvinia, Delphine, and Rowena—were so terrified at the spectacle, and so sickened by the outpouring of blood, that, within seconds, they sank to the ground in swoons; and Constance Philippa herself, her bravado being quite fled, went a hideous chalk-white, and, lying piteously upon the ground, began to weep, and to whimper with fear, as a much younger child might have done. Nonetheless, amidst all this confusion, the ten-year-old Octavia summoned forth enough strength of character, and maturity of spirit, to o’ercome her natural revulsion, and to rush to the hapless child’s side, there to stanch the flow of blood first with her apron, and then with her pretty new beribboned morning cap, the while embracing her sister, to comfort her, and to steady her; and murmuring these astonishing words: “Dear Constance Philippa, do not despair! Jesus is with us—Jesus helps me hold you—He will stop the dreadful bleeding, and make you well!—for He loves you, dear sister, and will not inordinately punish you, for all that you have displeased Him, in disobeying Father’s and Mother’s wishes!”—words which, no doubt, had their desired effect, in calming the frightened girl.
    And there were numerous other instances, in which “the little mother” exhibited her warm heart, and canny sensibility, with the general consequence that she was the best-loved of the sisters, within the family, and amongst the many servants, at the Octagonal House and the great Hall.
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    CONSTANCE PHILIPPA WAS, as we have seen, a sternly handsome young lady; Malvinia was known throughout the Bloodsmoor Valley, and in Philadelphia, as an angelic beauty; whereas Octavia was deemed but