Читать книгу Nobody - Warner Susan - Страница 7

Mr. Dillwyn walked away from Mrs. Wishart's in a discontented mood, which was not usual with him. He felt almost annoyed with something; yet did not quite know what, and he did not stop to analyze thefeeling. He walked away, wondering at himself for being so discomposed, and pondering with sufficient distinctness one or two questions whichstood out from the discomposure.

He was a man who had gone through all the usual routine of educationand experience common to those who belong to the upper class ofsociety, and can boast of a good name and family. He had lived hiscollege life; he had travelled; he knew the principal cities of his owncountry, and many in other lands, with sufficient familiarity. Speakinggenerally, he had seen everything, and knew everybody. He had ceased tobe surprised at anything, or to expect much from the world beyond whathis own efforts and talents could procure him. His connections andassociations had been always with good society and with the old andestablished portions of it; but he had come into possession of hisproperty not so very long ago, and the pleasure of that was not yetworn off. He was a man who thought himself happy, and certainlypossessed a very high place in the esteem of those who knew him; beingeducated, travelled, clever, and of noble character, and withal rich.It was the oddest thing for Philip to walk as he walked now, musingly, with measured steps, and eyes bent on the ground. There was a moststrange sense of uneasiness upon him.

The image of Lois busied him constantly. It was such a lovely image.But he had seen hundreds of handsomer women, he told himself. Had he?Yes, he thought so. Yet not one, not one of them all, had made as muchimpression upon him. It was inconvenient; and why was it inconvenient?Something about her bewitched him. Yes, he had seen handsomer women; but more or less they were all of a certain pattern; not alike infeature, or name, or place, or style, yet nevertheless all belonging tothe general sisterhood of what is called the world. And this girl wasdifferent. How different? She was uneducated, but that could not givea charm; though Philip thereby reflected that there was a certain charmin variety, and this made variety. She was unaccustomed to the greatworld and its ways; there could be no charm in that, for he liked theutmost elegance of the best breeding. Here he fetched himself up again.Lois was not in the least ill-bred. Nothing of the kind. She wasutterly and truly refined, in every look and word and movement showingthat she was so. Yet she had no "manner," as Mrs. Caruthers would haveexpressed it. No, she had not. She had no trained and inevitable way ofspeaking and looking; her way was her own, and sprang naturally fromthe truth of her thought or feeling at the moment. Therefore it couldnever be counted upon, and gave one the constant pleasure of surprises.Yes, Philip concluded that this was one point of interest about her.She had not learned how to hide herself, and the manner of herrevelations was a continual refreshing variety, inasmuch as what shehad to reveal was only fair and delicate and true. But what made thegirl so provokingly happy? so secure in her contentment? Mr. Dillwynthought himself a happy man; content with himself and with life; yetlife had reached something too like a dead level, and himself, he wasconscious, led a purposeless sort of existence. What purpose indeed wasthere to live for? But this little girl – Philip recalled the bright, soft, clear expression of eye with which she had looked at him; thevery sweet curves of happy consciousness about her lips; the confidentbearing with which she had spoken, as one who had found a treasurewhich, as she said, satisfied her. But it cannot! said Philip tohimself. It is that she is pure and sweet, and takes happiness like ababy, sucking in what seems to her the pure milk of existence. It istrue, the remembered expression of Lois's features did not quite agreewith this explanation; pure and sweet, no doubt, but also grave andhigh, and sometimes evidencing a keen intellectual perception andwisdom. Not just like a baby; and he found he could not dismiss thematter so. What made her, then, so happy? Philip could not rememberever seeing a grown person who seemed so happy; whose happiness seemedto rest on such a steady foundation. Can she be in love? thoughtDillwyn; and the idea gave him a most unreasonable thrill ofdispleasure. For a moment only; then his reason told him that the lookin Lois's face was not like that. It was not the brilliance of ecstasy;it was the sunshine of deep and fixed content. Why in the world shouldMr. Dillwyn wish that Lois were not so content? so beyond what he oranybody could give her? And having got to this point, Mr. Dillwynpulled himself up again. What business was it of his, the particularspring of happiness she had found to drink of? and if it quenched herthirst, as she said it did, why should he be anything but glad of it?Why, even if Lois were happy in some new-found human treasure, shouldit move him, Philip Dillwyn, with discomfort? Was it possible that hetoo could be following in those steps of Tom Caruthers, from whichTom's mother was at such pains to divert her son? Philip began to seewhere he stood. Could it be? – and what if?

He studied the question now with a clear view of its bearings. He hadgot out of a fog. Lois was all he had thought of her. Would she do fora wife for him? Uneducated – inexperienced – not in accord with thehabits of the world – accustomed to very different habits andsociety – with no family to give weight to her name and honour to hischoice, – all that Philip pondered; and, on the other side, theloveliness, the freshness, the intellect, the character, and therefinement, which were undoubted. He pondered and pondered. A girl whowas nobody, and whom society would look upon as an intruder; a girl whohad had no advantages of education – how she could express herself sowell and so intelligently Philip could not conceive, but the fact wasthere; Lois had had no education beyond the most simple training of aschool in the country; – would it do? He turned it all over and over, and shook his head. It would be too daring an experiment; it would notbe wise; it would not do; he must give it up, all thought of such athing; and well that he had come to handle the question so early, aselse he might – he – might have got so entangled that he could not savehimself. Poor Tom! But Philip had no mother to interpose to save him; and his sister was not at hand. He went thinking about all this thewhole way back to his hotel; thinking, and shaking his head at it. No, this kind of thing was for a boy to do, not for a man who knew theworld. And yet, the image of Lois worried him.

I believe, he said to himself, I had better not see the little witchagain.

Meanwhile he was not going to have much opportunity. Mrs. Wishart camehome a little while after Philip had gone. Lois was stitching by thelast fading light.

"Do stop, my dear! you will put your eyes out. Stop, and let us havetea. Has anybody been here?"

"Mr. Dillwyn came. He went away hardly a quarter of an hour ago."

"Mr. Dillwyn! Sorry I missed him. But he will come again. I met Tom

Caruthers; he is mourning about this going with his mother to Florida."

"What are they going for?" asked Lois.

"To escape the March winds, he says."

"Who? Mr. Caruthers? He does not look delicate."

Mrs. Wishart laughed. "Not very! And his mother don't either, does she?But, my dear, people are weak in different spots; it isn't always intheir lungs."

"Are there no March winds in Florida?"

"Not where they are going. It is all sunshine and oranges – and orangeblossoms. But Tom is not delighted with the prospect. What do you thinkof that young man?"

"He is a very handsome man."

"Is he not? But I did not mean that. Of course you have eyes. I want toknow whether you have judgment."

"I have not seen much of Mr. Caruthers to judge by."

"No. Take what you have seen and make the most of it."

"I don't think I have judgment," said Lois. "About people, I mean, andmen especially. I am not accustomed to New York people, besides."

"Are they different from Shampuashuh people?"

"O, very."

"How?"

"Miss Caruthers asked me the same thing," said Lois, smiling. "Isuppose at bottom all people are alike; indeed, I know they are. But inthe country I think they show out more."

"Less disguise about them?"

"I think so."

"My dear, are we such a set of masqueraders in your eyes?"

"No," said Lois; "I did not mean that."

"What do you think of Philip Dillwyn? Comare him with young Caruthers."

"I cannot," said Lois. "Mr. Dillwyn strikes me as a man who knowseverything there is in all the world."

"And Tom, you think, does not?"

"Not so much," said, Lois hesitating; "at least he does not impress meso."

"You are more impressed with Mr. Dillwyn?"

"In what way?" said Lois simply. "I am impressed with the sense of myown ignorance. I should be oppressed by it, if it was my fault."

"Now you speak like a sensible girl, as you are. Lois, men do not careabout women knowing much."

"Sensible men must."

"They are precisely the ones who do not. It is odd enough, but it is afact. But go on; which of these two do you like best?"

"I have seen most of Mr. Caruthers, you know. But, Mrs. Wishart, sensible men must like sense in other people."

"Yes, my dear; they do; unless when they want to marry the people; andthen their choice very often lights upon a fool. I have seen it overand over and over again; the clever one of a family is passed by, and asilly sister is the one chosen."

"Why?"

"A pink and white skin, or a pair of black eyebrows, or perhaps somesoft blue eyes."

"But people cannot live upon a pair of black eyebrows," said Lois.

"They find that out afterwards."

"Mr. Dillwyn talks as if he liked sense," said Lois. "I mean, he talksabout sensible things."

"Do you mean that Tom don't, my dear?"

A slight colour rose on the cheek Mrs. Wishart was looking at; and Loissaid somewhat hastily that she was not comparing.

"I shall try to find out what Tom talks to you about, when he comesback from Florida. I shall scold him if he indulges in nonsense."

"It will be neither sense nor nonsense. I shall be gone long beforethen."

"Gone whither?"

"Home – to Shampuashuh. I have been wanting to speak to you about it,

Mrs. Wishart. I must go in a very few days."

"Nonsense! I shall not let you. I cannot get along without you. Theydon't want you at home, Lois."

"The garden does. And the dairy work will be more now in a week or two; there will be more milk to take care of, and Madge will want help."

"Dairy work! Lois, you must not do dairy work. You will spoil yourhands."

Lois laughed. "Somebody's hands must do it. But Madge takes care of thedairy. My hands see to the garden."

"Is it necessary?"

"Why, yes, certainly, if we would have butter or vegetables; and youwould not counsel us to do without them. The two make half the livingof the family."

"And you really cannot afford a servant?"

"No, nor want one," said Lois. "There are three of us, and so we getalong nicely."

"Apropos; – My dear, I am sorry that it is so, but must is must. What Iwanted to say to you is, that it is not necessary to tell all this toother people."

Lois looked up, surprised. "I have told no one but you, Mrs. Wishart. Oyes! I did speak to Mr. Dillwyn about it, I believe."

"Yes. Well, there is no occasion, my dear. It is just as well not."

"Is it better not? What is the harm? Everybody at Shampuashuh knowsit."

"Nobody knows it here; and there is no reason why they should. I meantto tell you this before."

"I think I have told nobody but Mr. Dillwyn."

"He is safe. I only speak for the future, my dear."

"I don't understand yet," said Lois, half laughing. "Mrs. Wishart, weare not ashamed of it."

"Certainly not, my dear; you have no occasion."

"Then why should we be ashamed of it?" Lois persisted.

"My dear, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Do not think I mean that.

Only, people here would not understand it."

"How could they _mis_understand it?"

"You do not know the world, Lois. People have peculiar ways of lookingat things; and they put their own interpretation on things; and ofcourse they often make great blunders. And so it is just as well tokeep your own private affairs to yourself, and not give them theopportunity of blundering."

Lois was silent a little while.

"You mean," she said then, – "you think, that some of these people Ihave been seeing here, would think less of me, if they knew how we doat home?"

"They might, my dear. People are just stupid enough for that."

"Then it seems to me I ought to let them know," Lois said, halflaughing again. "I do not like to be taken for what I am not; and I donot want to have anybody's good opinion on false grounds." Her colourrose a bit at the same time.

"My dear, it is nobody's business. And anybody that once knew you wouldjudge you for yourself, and not upon any adventitious circumstances.They cannot, in my opinion, think of you too highly."

"I think it is better they should know at once that I am a poor girl,"said Lois. However, she reflected privately that it did not matter, asshe was going away so soon. And she remembered also that Mr. Dillwynhad not seemed to think any the less of her for what she had told him.Did Tom Caruthers know?

"But, Lois, my dear, about your going – There is no garden work to bedone yet. It is March."

"It will soon be April. And the ground must be got ready, and potatoesmust go in, and peas."

"Surely somebody else can stick in potatoes and peas."

"They would not know where to put them."

"Does it matter where?"

"To be sure it does!" said Lois, amused. "They must not go where theywere last year."

"Why not?"

"I don't know! It seems that every plant wants a particular sort offood, and gets it, if it can; and so, the place where it grows is moreor less impoverished, and would have less to give it another year. Buta different sort of plant requiring a different sort of food, would beall right in that place."

"Food?" said Mrs. Wishart. "Do you mean manure? you can have that putin."

"No, I do not mean that. I mean something the plant gets from the soilitself."

"I do not understand! Well, my dear, write them word where the peasmust go."

Lois laughed again.

"I hardly know myself, till I have studied the map," she said. "I mean, the map of the garden. It is a more difficult matter than you canguess, to arrange all the new order every spring; all has to bechanged; and upon where the peas go depends, perhaps, where thecabbages go, and the corn, and the tomatoes, and everything else. It isa matter for study."

"Can't somebody else do it for you?" Mrs. Wishart asked compassionately.

"There is no one else. We have just our three selves; and all that isdone we do; and the garden is under my management."

"Well, my dear, you are wonderful women; that is all I have to say.But, Lois, you must pay me a visit by and by in the summer time; I musthave that; I shall go to the Isles of Shoals for a while, and I amgoing to have you there."

"If I can be spared from home, dear Mrs. Wishart, it would bedelightful!"