Part 9 (1/2)
”Mr. Wyllys, I wish to say a word to you respecting my sister's antecedents before she goes to Mrs. Baxter.”
Without a symptom of surprise, he bowed, and exchanged his seat for one near the stand by which she sat. In this one action, he accepted her confidence, and put his services at her disposal should she desire them.
”From the descriptions of this lady, given by yourself and my father, I infer that she is affectionate and voluble. She will be likely to impart to Jessie all she knows of her mother's history, and question her concerning her own childish recollections. I have thought it best that you should hear the truth upon a subject that is rarely alluded to in our family. My father talked freely of it with Mr. Fordham before giving his sanction to his engagement with Jessie; but he has not spoken of it to me in many years--never to my sister. Should a garbled version of a story which is sad enough in itself, reach her ears, it would distress and bewilder her if there were no one near who could correct the mis-statement. My stepmother never recovered the natural tone of her health and spirits after my sister's birth. Her malady took the form of a gentle melancholy, indifference to domestic and neighborhood interests, varied at times by fits of wild weeping, so violent that she was confined to her couch with headache and debility for several days after each. She talked rationally when drawn into conversation, expressing herself upon every topic discussed with clearness and intelligence; but the spring of action was gone. She never complained of bodily pain; made no unreasonable demands upon the time and patience of those about her. Nor did she require to be humored and amused as is the way of most sufferers from confirmed hysteria. She read much and wrote more, burning her ma.n.u.scripts, however, as fast as they were finished. She drew, too, rapidly and well, and upon these occupations expended what little energy of mind and body remained to her after the illness that had nearly cost her her life. We guarded her from intrusion and uncharitable remark as far as we could. My nurse, an elderly widow, was then alive, and was our housekeeper, her daughter being our only other servant. How the report originated, I cannot say--probably from some indiscreet remark let fall by this daughter, who has now a home of her own some miles away--but within the year, a rumor has been brought to me that Jessie's mother died a lunatic. It is possible Mrs. Baxter has likewise heard such. If she has, and should be so imprudent as to repeat it to you, so unfeeling as to hint it to the daughter of that unhappy lady, may I rely upon you to tell my sister the exact truth?
My stepmother lived and died a sane woman--as sane as I am this moment. Jessie is impressible and ardent. Her love for her mother is a pa.s.sion. It would nearly kill her if this slander were retailed to her.”
She had made her little speech; summed up the case, and offered her appeal with such simplicity, such deft moderation, as challenged the lawyer's admiration. His reply was directly to the purpose.
”You may depend upon me, Miss Kirke. I hope, with you, that I shall never be called upon to fulfil the trust with which you have honored me. I am confident that Mrs. Baxter is ignorant of the particulars of her cousin's ill-health. She has spoken to me with apparent frankness of her early life--of her marriage, and the seclusion that followed it.”
”For which she blames my father!” interrupted Eunice, red indignation staining her fair face. ”Because he would not subject his wife to the indifferent or pitying observation of those who had been the a.s.sociates of her brilliant girlhood; because he indulged her longing for solitude and quiet; guarded her sedulously and tenderly from all that could tax and jar upon her tortured nerves--he fell under their ban! He gave me some letters to examine and file--or burn, if I thought fit--ten years ago. Among them I found one from Mrs. Baxter--one from another cousin of Ginevra Lanneau. They were written to him, just after her death. Both reproached him--Mrs. Baxter (then Miss Jane Lanneau) gently, the other harshly, for separating his young wife from her friends and 'immersing her in a savage solitude, where, cut off from all congenial a.s.sociations, a nature so refined as hers could not but pine itself to death.' I do not quote from Mrs. Baxter. If she had upbraided the best of men and most loving of husbands in these terms, Jessie should never enter her house, unless under my protest.”
”You are right. But, believe me, she will be safe and happy in Mrs.
Baxter's care. Her goodness of heart is undeniable; her impulses are amiable, and she is, moreover, a woman of sound principles and genuine piety. She is vain, but never unkind or censorious. She always reminds me of the pretty _bas bleu_ immortalized by the 'Spectator'--or is it the 'Tattler'? 'When'--says the essayist--'she would look languis.h.i.+ng, there is a fine thing to be said at the same time that spoils all. Thus, the unhappy Merab, although a wit and a beauty, hath not the credit of being either, and all because she would be both.' Our Hamilton Merab has sterling traits, nevertheless, and is incapable of using the language you have quoted. No one but a vulgar idiot could apply it to Mr. Kirke. The writer had, I take it, never seen him. You have every reason to be proud of your father, Miss Eunice. He is that best work of the Creator--a Christian gentleman,--I say it without reverence,--a prince of the blood royal.”
The golden lights glanced up from the dark wells of her eyes; her smile was grateful and exultant.
”Thank you! I know you mean what you say, and it is but the truth.”
Neither spoke for a brief s.p.a.ce. The soughing of the pine-tree was annoyingly continuous to Orrin's ear; the fire-flashes were silent.
He tried to forget the vexing sound in remarking that Eunice's bent profile showed against the dark wood of the high, carved mantel, clear and fine as a cameo cutting, but it would be heard.
”You were very young at the time of your step-mother's death to be your father's a.s.sistant and co-adviser,” he said, to prevent an awkward break in their talk. ”I am surprised at the accuracy of your recollections.”
”I was fifteen. The elder daughter of a family early learns to a.s.sume and to bear domestic cares; is more mature at the same age than are those who come after her. I remember my own mother, who died eleven years earlier than did Jessie's. I was thirty last month.”
She picked up her sewing without a flutter or a blush, and Orrin, not daring to offer her the flimsy compliment of incredulity he would have paid another woman who had volunteered a confession disparaging to her personal charms, was still casting about in his mind for words that should praise, yet not offend, when his opportunity was lost through Jessie's return to the room.
CHAPTER VIII.
”You find us, in humble imitation of Mr. Turveydrop, still using our little arts to polish--polis.h.!.+” said Jessie Kirke, mimicking the famous trowel gesture of the Professor of Deportment, as Orrin Wyllys entered Mrs. Baxter's drawing-room on the evening of the fourth of January.
The Lady President's ”collegiate re-unions” on the first and third Thursdays of each month had, up to this winter, been declared a nuisance by the cla.s.s for whose benefit she had inaugurated the series; to wit, the homeless, graceless students whose intellectual training was committed to her husband and his _confreres_, while their polite education was left to Fate and the hap-hazard culture of promiscuous society. Now, promiscuous society--(the term is Mrs.
Baxter's--not mine) in Hamilton, although less detrimental to the principles, manners, and conversational powers of unguarded youth than the same foe would have been in a region more remote from the great humanizing and refining centre expressed, to the visual organs, by the square, cream-colored mansion at the right of the college campus--was yet inimical to the best interests (another stolen phrase!) of the aforesaid matriculated youngsters. To counteract the evil, the presidential residence was converted, on the evenings I have designated, into a social reformatory, and the mistress put forth her utmost energy to render the process of amelioration pleasant to the subjects thereof. The success of her system, which had gone into operation two years before, had been less than indifferent up to the date of her young kinswoman's arrival. Simultaneously with her appearance at the pillared portal of the cream-colored Centre, the cause of elegant deportment and colloquial accomplishments began to look up in the contiguous halls of learning. The ”reception” on the ensuing Thursday was well attended, the second was a ”crush ”--the supply of lemonade and sponge-cake inadequate to the demand.
This was the third, and the hostess, elate with past, and sanguine of prospective, victories, had, with the a.s.sistance of her guest, bedecked her rooms with New Year's garlands and floral legends. As an ingenious tribute to the learning of the major portion of the a.s.sembly, Mrs. Baxter had accomplished a Latinization of certain stock phrases of welcome, and was immensely proud of the ”cla.s.sic air” imparted to her saloon by these.
”I suppose they are all right,” Jessie said dubiously to Orrin, when he inspected them. ”My knowledge of the dead tongue is confined to the musty sayings everybody has learned by heart--_'Sic transit gloria mundi,' 'Mirabile dictu,'_ and the like.”
”SALVE!” blossomed into being in heather, and pink-and-white paper roses over the mantel opposite the door of the front parlor. Over that in the back--”_Jubemus vos salvere_,” while ”_O faustum et felicem hunc diem!_” was tacked above the piano in the music-room.
”To polis.h.!.+ to polis.h.!.+” reiterated Jessie, stroking her gloved left hand with her right, and looking so roguishly beautiful that Orrin had no difficulty in throwing an expression of intense admiration into his gaze.
”Stand off, and let me look at you!” said he, brusquely for him, drawing back for a better view.
She was well worth it. Native quickness, aided by the marvellous intuition as to effect, and the daring that attempts new combinations of color and untried styles of coiffure and dress, which people name ”French taste,” had wrought together in her attire. She had a ”genius for apparel,” Mrs. Baxter p.r.o.nounced delightedly, adding ”So much for blood! The Parisian eye and Parisian apt.i.tude are, like the poetic afflatus, _nascitur, non fit_. You are a true Lanneau.” There would be no better-dressed woman in the a.s.sembly to-night than the country girl, whose toilette had yet cost less than that of any other who laid claim to the honors of belles.h.i.+p.
Her maize-colored tissue had a full double skirt; the upper looped with rosettes of black lace and narrow black velvet. A bunch of fuschias--scarlet with purple hearts, drooped above her left temple.