Part 12 (1/2)

Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to ask him about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. Langenau had it in his room--a most happy accident, and there was a great deal said about it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. Again Sophie interposed. ”We have forgotten Mary Leighton,” she said, gently.

”Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?”

”Not a thing,” said Henrietta.

”What does she know anything of, but flirting?” said Charlotte with asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was murmuring softest folly to her under her pongee parasol.

”Perhaps she'd like to learn,” suggested Sophie. ”She and Pauline might begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not think it too much trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. And you, Charlotte, I am sure, could help them a great deal.”

Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to help them.

Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, that I think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance anxiously at him, as if to know what really he might mean. She concluded to interpret according to the context, however, and went on.

”But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one does.

Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or after our lesson.”

”_De tout mon coeur_,” said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, his _coeur_ had very little interest in the matter.

”Well, about the hour?” said Charlotte, the woman of business; ”we haven't settled that after all our talking.”

There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it was settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the German hour--subject to alteration as circ.u.mstances should arise.

Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should not be made till the next day but one. ”The gentlemen will all be here to-morrow, and there may be something else going on.” I knew very well she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not approve her zeal for our improvement.

The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that Mary Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, sitting beside them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of information as might fall to us.

Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little that was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson proper. Mrs.

Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their books and left, when the infant cla.s.s was called. I do not think Mr. Langenau took great pains to make the study of the German tongue of interest to Miss Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and never even learned the alphabet. She was very much unused to mental application, undoubtedly, and was annoyed at appearing dull. There was but one door open to her; to vote German a bore, and give up the cla.s.s. She made her exit by that door on the occasion of the second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were left to pursue our studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in fine weather, and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity with which the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when their hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs.

Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went.

It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, golden afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under the trees to some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came out to call us in to tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what peril to me, and perhaps to him. It is vain to go over it all: it is enough that of all the happy days, that hour from six o'clock till tea-time was the happiest: and that with strange smoothness, day after day pa.s.sed on without bringing interruption to it. At six the others went to ride or walk; I was never called, and did not even wonder at it.

All this time Richard had been going every day to town and coming back by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and he looked rather pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay away. I sometimes felt a little sorry when I saw how much he was out of spirits, but I was in such a happy realm myself, it did not depress me long: in truth, I forgot it when he was not actually before me, and sometimes even then.

”I do not think you are listening to what I say,” he said to me one night as he sat by me in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to listen better. Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to think how much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all.

The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street office, and Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one Sat.u.r.day, much to be remembered, the very last day of the month. I recall with penitence, the impatient feeling that I had when Richard told me he was going to take the day at home. I felt intuitively that it would spoil it all for me. After breakfast, we all played croquet, and then I shut myself into my room with my German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At dinner I was excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr.

Langenau and Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was impossible to please either.

Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all this time knew nothing of the German cla.s.s) said to me, evidently afraid of some other engagement being entered on, ”I hope you will drive with me, Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was down at the stables; I think the afternoon is going to be fine.” It was rather a public way of asking one out of so many to go and take a drive; but in truth, Richard was too honest and straightforward to care who knew what he was in pursuit of, and too sore at heart and too indifferent an actor to conceal it if he had desired. But the invitation struck me with such consternation. At five o'clock! The flower and consummation of the day!

The hour that I had been looking forward to, since seven the day before.

I could not lose it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated going to drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that I could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my eyes again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart seemed to turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day was gone. It seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless duration, this penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, foolish men and women!

I was like a child balked of its holiday; I wanted to cry--I longed to get away by myself. I did not dare to look at any one.

Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the others went away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, pa.s.sing close by me, said quite low, ”I would not say anything about the German cla.s.s, Pauline.

And it was a great deal better that you should go; you know Richard has not many holidays.”

”Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him,” I thought, but did not say.