Читать книгу Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life - Ann S. Stephens - Страница 13

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Mrs. Lee never went down to dinner, or, if she did, it was so rarely that we looked upon her presence as a sort of holiday. She was very dainty in her appetite, and on ordinary occasions was served by her own maid, or of late by Lottie. I think she had rather intended to come down that day in honor of our guest, but the illness that seized upon her drove this idea from her mind; so, leaving her with Lottie, I went away restless and unaccountably unhappy.

How bright and blooming they came in from the garden, bringing its fragrance with them to the dinner-table! What a joyous, piquant conversation it was, that commenced with the soup and sparkled with the wine! There is no disputing it, our guest was a wonderful creature, her graceful wit sparkled, her sentiment fascinated. She was calculated to keep the man her beauty should win—no doubt of that. Her conversation charmed even me.

Jessie was constantly challenging admiration for her friend—interrogating me with her eyes, and looking at her father to be sure that he fully appreciated the brilliancy which filled her own heart with a sort of adoration. But the widow seemed quite unconscious that she was an object of special admiration to any one. Nothing could be more natural than her manner. At times she was really child-like.

Still I did not like her. Why, it is useless to ask. Perhaps Mrs. Lee had left an impression of her strange fancies on my mind—perhaps the atmosphere which surrounded her mingled with the subtile vitality of my intelligence and gave me the truth.

We had music in the evening. Our Jessie possessed the purest of soprano voices. Many a celebrated prima donna has won laurels from inferior capacity. As in all other things, her musical education had been perfect. Mrs. Dennison was her inferior in this. She performed splendidly, and her rich contralto voice possessed many fine qualities; but our birdie swept far above her, and soared away upon an ocean of harmonies that seemed born of heaven.

The windows were open, and we knew that this heaven of sweet sounds would float to the invalid's chamber. Indeed, when I went out upon the platform, back of the house, I saw Mrs. Lee lying in her white, loose dress, on the couch, as if the music had lulled her to sleep.

I think Mrs. Dennison was not quite satisfied with herself. The glorious voice of our Jessie seemed to take her by surprise, for after the first trial she refused to sing again, but still kept the piano, and dashed through some fine opera music with spirit. Was she exhausting her ill-humor in those stormy sounds?

On the next day, our young ladies rode on horseback. Both were superb equestrians; and Mr. Lee's stately management of his coal-black horse was something worth looking at. As they dashed round a curve of the road, Jessie turned on her saddle and waved me a kiss, where I stood on the square balcony watching them. What a happy, bright creature she looked!

It took me by surprise; but when the equestrians came back, two gentlemen had joined the party. One was young Bosworth, who had returned to the old country place, a mile down the valley, directly after we left Long Branch, and since then had managed to join our Jessie in her rides oftener than any supposition of mere accident could warrant. The dear girl seemed a little annoyed when these meetings became more frequent; but she bore our joking on the subject pleasantly, and up to that morning had, I fancy, given little thought to his movements. The other man I recognized at once. It was Mr. Lawrence.

This gentleman rode up with Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison, who was evidently piding her fascinations very equally between the two gentlemen. Jessie followed them with her cavalier, and I observed, as they dismounted, that her cheeks were flushed, and her lips lightly curved, as if something had disturbed her.

The gentlemen did not dismount, for Jessie left Mrs. Dennison on the foot of the terrace-steps, and, without pausing to give an invitation, ran into the house.

I left the balcony and went up to her chamber. She was walking to and fro in the room, with a quick, proud step, the tears sparkling in her eyes.

"What is it?" I said, going up to where she stood, and kissing her. "Who has wounded you?"

"No one," she answered, and the proud tears flashed down to her cheek, and lay there like rain-drops hanging on the leaves of the wild rose—"no one. Only, only—"

"Well, dear?"

"You were right, Aunt Matty. That man really had just the feelings you suspected; I could hardly prevent him from expressing them broadly. Keep as close to papa as I would, he found means to say things that made my blood burn. What right has any man to talk of love to a girl, until she has given him some sort of encouragement, I should like to know?"

"But perhaps he fancies that you have given him a little encouragement."

"Encouragement! I? Indeed, Aunt Matty, I never dreamed of this until now!"

"I am sure of it; but then you allowed him to join your rides, and seemed rather pleased."

"Why, the idea that he meant anything never entered my mind. Ah! Aunt Matty, haven't we said a thousand times that there must be some blame, some coquetry on the lady's part, before a man, whom she is sure to reject, could presume to offer himself?"

"But has he gone so far as that?" I asked.

"Let me think. Alas! I was so confused, so angry, that it is impossible to remember just what he did say."

"But your answer?"

"Why, as to that," she cried, with a little nervous laugh, "I gave Flash a cut with the whip and dashed on after the rest. Aunt Matty, upon my word, I doubt if I spoke at all."

"My dear child, he may half imagine himself accepted then."

"Accepted! What can you mean?" she exclaimed, grasping her whip with both hands and bending it double. "I shall go wild if you say that."

"Why, do you dislike him so much?"

"Dislike! no. What is there to dislike about him?"

"Well, then," I said, a little mischievously, "he is rather good-looking, well educated, of irreproachable family, and rich."

"Don't, don't, Aunt Matty, or I shall hate you."

"Not quite so bad as that," I cried, kissing her hot cheek. "Now, let us be serious. All young ladies must expect offers of this kind."

"But I don't want them. It distresses me."

I saw that she was in earnest, and that young Bosworth's attentions had really distressed her. So, drawing her to a sofa, we sat down and talked the matter over more quietly.

I told her that it was useless annoying herself; that, until the young gentleman spoke out more definitely, she had nothing to torment herself about; and when he did, a few quiet words would settle the whole matter.

"But can't we prevent him saying anything more? Or, if he does, will you just tell him how it is?" she said, anxiously.

I could not help smiling; there was no affectation here. I knew very well that Jessie would give the world to avoid this refusal; but in such cases young ladies must take their own responsibilities: the interference of third parties can only produce mischief.

She began to see the thing in its true light after a little, and talked it over more calmly. Many a girl would have been delighted with this homage to her charms; but Jessie was no common person, and she felt a sort of degradation in inspiring a passion she could not return. Besides, it placed upon her the necessity of giving pain where it was in every way undeserved; and that she had never done in her life.

While we were talking, a light knock at the door heralded Mrs. Dennison. There was nothing to call her to that part of the house, and her first words conveyed an apology for the intrusion, for we both probably looked a little surprised.

"I beg ten thousand pardons for rushing in upon you; but the gentlemen are waiting in the road to know if they can join us to-morrow. I could only answer for myself, you know."

"Let them join you," I whispered; "the sooner it is over with the better."

Jessie stood up, gathered the long riding-skirt in one hand, while she walked past her guest with the air of a princess, and stepped out on the balcony, from which she made a gesture of invitation, which the two gentlemen acknowledged with profound bows, and rode away.

"That's an angel!" exclaimed Mrs. Dennison, laying her hand on Jessie's shoulder. "I almost thought something had gone wrong, by the way you left us. Poor Mr. Bosworth was quite crestfallen."

Jessie made a little gesture of annoyance, which the widow was quick to observe, and instantly changed the subject.