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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25727-0.txt b/25727-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e136cf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10134 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll +have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using +this ebook. + + + +Title: Vagabondia 1884 + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: June 8, 2008 [EBook #25727] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +VAGABONDIA + +By Frances Hodgson Burnett + +JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY - 1884 + + + +CONTENTS + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE. + +VAGABONDIA. + + + +CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + +CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + +CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + +CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + +CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + +CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” + +CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + +CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + +CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + +CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + +CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + +CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + +CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + +CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + +CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + +CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + +CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + +CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + +CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE. + +This my first novel was written several years ago, and published +(without any revision by me) first in a ladies' magazine under the name +of “Dorothea,” and afterwards in book form as “Dolly.” For reasons not +necessary to state here, all control over the book had passed from +my hands. It has been for some time out of print; but, having at last +obtained control of the copyright, I have made such corrections as +seemed advisable, given it the name I originally intended for it, and +now issue it through my regular publishers. + +FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. + +Washington, November, 1883. + + + +VAGABONDIA. + + + +CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + +It was a nondescript sort of a room, taking it altogether. A big, sunny +room, whose once handsome papering and corniceing had grown dingy, and +whose rich carpeting had lost its color and pile in places, and yet +asserted its superiority to its surroundings with an air of lost +grandeur in every shabby medallion. There were pictures in abundance on +the walls, and more than one of them were gems in their way, despite the +evidence all bore to being the work of amateurs. The tables were carved +elaborately, and the faded, brocaded chairs were of the order _pouf_, +and as inviting as they were disreputable in appearance; there was +manuscript music among the general litter, a guitar hung from the wall +by a tarnished blue and silver ribbon, and a violin lay on the piano; +and yet, notwithstanding the air of free-and-easy disorder, one could +hardly help recognizing a sort of vagabond comfort and luxury in the +Bohemian surroundings. It was so very evident that the owners must enjoy +life in an easy, light-hearted, though perhaps light-headed fashion; and +it was also so very evident that their light hearts and light heads rose +above their knowledge of their light purses. + +They were congregated together now, holding a grand family council +around the centre-table, and Dolly was the principal feature, as usual; +and, embarrassing as the subject of said council was, not one of them +looked as if it was other than a most excellent joke that Dolly, having +been invited into the camps of the Philistines, should find she had +nothing to put on to grace the occasion. And as to Dolly,--well, that +young person stood in the midst of them in her shabby, Frenchy little +hat, slapping one pink palm with a shabby, shapely kid glove, her eyes +alight, her comical dismay and amusement displaying itself even in the +arch of her brows. + +“And so the Philistine leader pounced upon me herself,” she was saying. +“You know the 'Ark,' Phil? Well, they were all in the Ark,--the Rev. +Bilberry in front, and the boys and girls filling up the corners; so you +may imagine the effect produced when they stopped, and Lady Augusta +bent over the side to solemnly proclaim her intention of inviting me +to partake of coffee and conversation on Friday night, with an air of +severely wondering whether I would dare to say 'No!'” + +“Why did n't you say it?” said Aimée. “You know it will be an awful +bore, Dolly. Those Bilberry clan gatherings always are. You have said so +yourself often enough.” + +“Of course I have,” returned Dolly. “And of course it will be, but +it would be dreadfully indiscreet to let the Bilberry element know I +thought so. The Bilberry doors once closed against us, where is our +respectability, and Phil's chance of success among the Philistines? It +is bad enough, of course, but there is reason to be thankful that I am +the only victim. The rest of you would be sure to blunder into the B. +B. B.'s [meaning the Bilberry black books], and that _would_ be an +agreeable state of affairs. 'Toinette, look at Tod, he is sitting in the +coal-box eating Phil's fusees.” + +In 'Toinette we find Mrs. Phil, a handsome creature, young enough to +have been in the school-room, but with the face and figure of a Greek +goddess, and a pair of eyes lovely enough to haunt one's dreams as a +memory for a lifetime, and as to the rest, an inconsistent young madcap, +whose beauty and spirit seemed only a necessary part of the household +arrangements, and whose son and heir, in the person of the enterprising +Tod (an abbreviate of Theodore), was the source of unlimited domestic +enjoyment and the object of much indiscreet adoration. It was just like +Philip Crewe, this marrying on probabilities; and it was equally like +the rest of them to accept the state of affairs as an excellent joke, +and regard the result as an exquisite piece of pleasantry. 'Toinette +herself was only another careless, unworldly addition to the family +circle, and enjoyed her position as thoroughly as the rest did; and as +to Tod, what a delicate satire upon responsibilities Tod was, and how +tranquilly he comported himself under a _régime_ which admitted of free +access into dangerous places, and a lack of personal restraint which +allowed him all the joys the infantile mind can revel in! + +At Dolly's exclamation Toinette rushed at him in his stronghold, and +extricated him from the coal-box with demonstrations of dismay. + +“Look at his white dress!” she wailed pathetically. “I only put it on a +few minutes ago; and he has eaten two dozen fusees, if this was n't an +empty box when he found it. I hope they won't disagree with him, Phil.” + +“They won't,” said Phil, composedly. “Nothing does. Dust him, and +proceed to business. I want to hear the rest of Dolly's story.” + +“I _think_,” said Mollie, “that he ate Shem and Ham this morning, for I +could only find Japheth after he had been playing with his Noah's Ark. +Go on, Dolly.” + +“Wait until I have taken off my things,” said Dolly, “and then we 'll +talk it over. We must talk it over, you know, if I am to go.” + +She took off her hat, and then laid her shawl aside,--a little scarlet +shawl, draped about her figure and tossed over one shoulder smartly, +and by no means ungracefully,--and so stood revealed; and it must be +admitted she was well worth looking at. Not a beauty, but a fresh, +wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair, +and large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, because +capricious in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likely +to persuade people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolute +beauty could be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would rather +detract from the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reigned +supreme. + +“It is n't the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular,” + she would say; “it's the being able to persuade people that you are +one,--or better than one. Don't some historians tell us that Cleopatra +had red hair and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind the +world so completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, and +to this day the generality of people are inclined to believe that it +was her supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at her +feet.” + +Aimée's face was more nearly perfect than Dolly's; Mollie's was more +imposing, child as she was; 'Toinette threw her far into the shade in +the matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did all +the difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionable +adorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source of +rejoicing and entertainment to the family. + +Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music, +paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the most +comfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest to +seat themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen, +large, fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, dropped +into a not ungraceful position at her feet. Aimée, who was a little +maiden with a tender, _spirituelle_ face, and all the forethought of +the family, sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression. +'Toinette and Tod, _posed_ in the low nursery-chair,--the girl's firm, +white arm flung around the child,--swung lightly to and fro, fit models +for an artist. + +“You would make a first-class picture,--the lot of you,” commented Phil, +amicably. + +“Never mind the picture,” said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippers +up under her wrapper. “We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going to +the Bilberrys'. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had a +turquoise-blue sat--” + +“Heavenly!” interrupted Dolly. “I should think so. Particularly +celestial for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, and +peculiarly celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would be +as much as my reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You must +learn discretion, Mollie.” + +“There is some consolation in knowing you can't get it,” said 'Toinette. +“You won't be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what _are_ +you going to wear, Dolly?” + +“That is for the council to decide,” Dolly returned. “First, we must +settle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it.” + +“Other people go the other way about it,” said Aimée. + +“If we were only rich!” said Mollie. + +“But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not,” said Dolly. +“There is one thing certain, however,--it must be white.” + +“A simple white muslin,” suggested 'Toinette, struggling in the grasp of +the immortal Tod,--“a simple white muslin, with an equally simple wild +flower in your hair, _à la_ Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager Bilberry +_would_ like that.” + +“And a wide blue sash,” suggested Mollie. “And the sleeves tied up with +bows. _And_ tucks, Dolly. Girls, just think of Dolly making great eyes +at an eligible Philistine, in white muslin and a sash and tucks!” + +She was a hardened little sinner, this Dolly, her only redeeming point +being that she was honest enough about her iniquities,--so honest +that they were really not such terrible iniquities after all, and were +regarded as rather good fun by the _habitués_ of Vagabondia proper. She +laughed just as heartily as the rest of them at Mollie's speech. She +could no more resist the temptation of making great eyes at eligible +Philistines than she could help making them at the entertaining but +highly ineligible Bohemians, who continually frequented Phil's studio. +The fear of man was not before her eyes; and the life she had led had +invested her with a whimsical yet shrewd knowledge of human nature, and +a business-like habit of looking matters in the face, which made her +something of a novelty; and when is not novelty irresistible? And as to +the masculine Philistines,--well, the audacity of Dolly's successes in +the very midst of the enemy's camp had been the cause of much stately +demoralization of Philistine battalions. + +At her quietest she created small sensations and attracted attention; +but in her wicked moods, when she was in a state of mind to prompt her +to revenge the numerous small slights and overt acts of lofty patronage +she met with, the dowagers stood in some secret awe of her propensities, +and not without reason. Woe betide the daring matron who measured swords +with her at such times. Great would be her confusion and dire her fall +before the skirmish was over, and nothing was more certain than that she +would retire from the field a wiser if not a better woman. After being +triumphantly routed with great slaughter on two or three occasions, +the enemy had discovered this, and decided mentally that it was more +discreet to let “little Miss Crewe” alone, considering that, though it +was humiliating to be routed, even by one of their own forces, it was +infinitely more so to be routed by an innocent-looking young person, +whose position was questionable, and who actually owed her vague shadow +of respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady Augusta +Decima Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, and +mother of the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little Miss +Crewe was music teacher and morning governess. + +So it was that Mollie's joke about the tucks and white muslin gained +additional point from the family recollection of past experiences. + +“But,” said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, “it won't do to +talk nonsense all day. Here 's where we stand, you know. Coffee and +conversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggled +old green tarlatan on the other, and it's Tuesday now.” + +“And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in the +family mind,” began Phil, with composure. + +“But that 's nonsense,” interrupted Aimée. “And, as Dolly says, nonsense +won't do now. But,” with a quaint sigh, “we always _do_ talk nonsense.” + +But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, with +an exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie's lap, +disappeared through the open door. + +“I will be back in a minute,” she called back to them, as she ran +up-stairs. “I have just thought of something.” + +“Girls,” said Mollie, “it's her white merino.” + +And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,--a heap of soft +white folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging after +her upon the carpet,--the one presentable relic of a once inconsistently +elaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled and rolled-up +condition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to unlimited +improvement. + +“I had forgotten all about it,” she said, triumphantly. “I have never +needed it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but it +looked so nice when I saw it that I could n't help buying it. I once +thought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly, +it 's what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,--things +always come somehow.” + +It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be more +rejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would have +been over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperous +people. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turn +now, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrine +of the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly's best +bonnet, or Mollie's shoes, or Aimée's gloves, when occasion demanded +such a course. So the merino was laid upon the table, and the council +rose to examine, comment, and suggest. + +“A train,” said Dolly, concisely; “no trimming, and swan's-down. Even +the Bilberry could n't complain of that, I 'm sure.” + +Mollie, resting her smooth white elbows on the table in a comfortably +lounging posture, regarded the garment with great longing in her drowsy +brown eyes. + +“I wish it was white satin,” she observed, somewhat irrelevantly, “and +I was going to wear it at a real ball, with real lace, you know, and a +court train, and flowers, and a fan.” + +Dolly looked down at her handsome childish face good-naturedly. She +was such an incongruous mixture of beauty and utter simplicity, this +easy-going baby of sixteen, that Dolly could not have helped liking her +heartily under any circumstances, even supposing there had been no tie +of relationship between them. + +“I wish it was white satin and you were going to wear it,” she said. +“White satin is just the sort of thing for you, Mollie. Never mind, wait +until the figurative ship comes in.” + +“And in the interval,” suggested Aimée, “put a stitch or so in that +wrapper of yours. It has been torn for a week now, and Tod tumbles over +it half a dozen times every morning before breakfast.” + +Mollie cast her eyes over her shoulder to give it an indifferent glance +as it rested on the faded carpet behind her. + +“I wish Lady Augusta would mend things before she sends them to us,” she +said, with sublime _naïveté_, and then, at the burst of laughter which +greeted her words, she stopped short, staring at the highly entertained +circle with widely opened, innocent eyes. “What are you laughing at?” + she said. “I 'm sure she might. She is always preaching about liking to +have something to occupy her time, and it would be far more charitable +of her to spend her time in that way than in persistently going into +poor houses where the people don't want her, and reading tracts to them +that they don't want to hear.” + +Dolly's appreciation of the audacity of the idea reached a climax in an +actual shriek of delight. + +“If I had five pounds, which I have not, and never shall have,” she +said, “I would freely give it just to see Lady Augusta hear you say +that, my dear. Five pounds! I would give ten--twenty--fifty, if need be. +It would be such an exquisite joke.” + +But Mollie did not regard the matter in this light. To her +unsophisticated mind Lady Augusta represented nothing more than +periodical boredom in the shape of occasional calls, usually made +unexpectedly, when the house was at its worst, and nobody was especially +tidy,--calls invariably enlivened by severe comments upon the evil +propensities of poor relations in general, and the shocking lack of +respectability in this branch of the order in particular. Worldly wisdom +was not a family trait, Dolly's half-whimsical assumption of it being +the only symptom of the existence of such a gift, and Mollie was the +most sublimely thoughtless of the lot. Mrs. Phil had never been guilty +of a discreet act in her life. Phil himself regarded consequences less +than he regarded anything else, and Aimée's childish staidness and +forethought had certainly not an atom of worldliness in it. Accordingly, +Dolly was left to battle with society, and now and then, it must be +admitted, the result of her brisk affrays did her no small credit. + +For a very short space of time the merino was being disposed of to an +advantage; Dolly seating herself in her chair again to renovate the +skirt; Aimée unpicking the bodice, and Mollie looking on with occasional +comments. + +“Here is Griffith,” she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder at +a figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was opened +without ceremony, and “Grif” made his appearance upon the scene. + +Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feel +inclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance. He +was a thin, undersized young man, rather out at elbows and shabby of +attire, and with a decided air of Bohemia about him; but his youthful +face was singularly pleasing and innocent, and his long-lashed, +brown-black eyes were more than good-looking,--they were absolutely +beautiful in a soft, pathetic way,--beautiful as the eyes of the +loveliest of women. + +He came into the room as if he was used to coming into it in an +every-day fashion; and Dolly, looking up, gave him a smile and a nod. + +“Ah, you are all here, are you?” he said. “What is on hand now? What is +all this white stuff for?” And he drew a chair up close by Dolly's side, +and lifted the merino in his hand. + +“For Friday night,” answered Aimée. “Bilberry's again, Griffith. Coffee +and conversation this time.” + +Griffith looked at Dolly inquiringly, but Dolly only laughed and +shrugged her plump shoulders wickedly. + +“Look here,” he said, with a disapproving air, “it ain't true, is it, +Dolly? You are not going to make a burnt-offering of yourself on the +Bilberry shrine again, are you?” + +But Dolly only laughed the more as she took the merino from him. + +“If you want a breadth of merino to hold, take another one,” she +said. “I want that. And as to being a burnt-offering on the shrine of +Bilberry, my dear Griffith, you must know it is policy,” and immediately +went on with her unpicking again, while Griffith, bending over in an +attitude more remarkable for ease than grace, looked on at her sharp +little glancing scissors with an appearance of great interest. + +It would perhaps be as well to pause here to account for this young +man's evident freedom in the family circle. It was very plain that he +was accustomed to coming and going when he pleased, and it was easy to +be adduced from his manner that, to him, Dolly was the chief attraction +in the establishment. The fact was, he was engaged to Dolly, and had +been engaged to her for years, and in all probability, unless his +prospects altered their aspect, would be engaged to her for years to +come. In past time, when both were absurdly young, and ought to have +been at school, the two had met,--an impressionable, good-natured, +well-disposed couple of children, who fell in love with each other +unreasoningly and honestly, giving no thought to the future. They +were too young to be married, of course, and indeed had not troubled +themselves about anything so matter of fact; they had fallen in love, +and enjoyed it, and, strange to say, had been enjoying it ever since, +and falling in love more deeply every day of their affectionate, +inconsequent, free-and-easy lives. What did it matter to them that +neither owned a solitary sixpence, for which they had not a thousand +uses? What did it matter to Dolly that Griffith's literary career had so +far been so unremunerative that a new suit is as an event, and an extra +shilling an era? What did it matter to Griffith that Dolly's dresses +were re-trimmed and re-turned and re-furbished, until their reappearance +with the various seasons was the opening of a High Carnival of jokes? +Love is not a matter of bread and butter in Vagabondia, thank Heaven! +Love is left to Bohemia as well as to barren Respectability, and, as +Griffith frequently observed with no slight enthusiasm, “When it comes +to figure, where's the feminine Philistine whose silks and satins and +purple and fine raiment fit like Dolly's do?” So it went on, and the +two adored each other with mutual simplicity, and, having their little +quarrels, always made them up again with much affectionate remorse, and, +scorning the prudential advice of outsiders, believed in each other and +the better day which was to come, when one or the other gained worldly +goods enough to admit of a marriage in which they were to be happy in +their own way,--which, I may add, was a way simple and tender, unselfish +and faithful, enough. + +It was quite evident, however, that Griffith was not in the best of +spirits this morning. He was not as sanguine as Dolly by nature, and +outward influences tended rather to depress him occasionally. But he +never was so low-spirited that Dolly could not cheer him, consequently +he always came to her with his troubles; and to her credit, be it said, +she never failed to understand and deal with them tenderly, commonplace +though they were. So she understood his mood very well to-day. Something +had gone wrong at “the office.” (“The office” was the editorial den +which swallowed him up, and held him in bondage from morning until +night; appropriating his labor for a very small pecuniary compensation, +too, it may be added.) “Old Flynn,” as the principal was respectfully +designated, had been creating one of his periodical disturbances, or he +had been snubbed, which, by the way, was not a rare event, and to poor +Griffith slights were stings and patronage poison. He could not laugh at +the enemy and scorn discomfiture as Dolly could, and the consequence of +an encounter with the Philistines on his part was usually a desperate +fit of low spirits, which made him wretched, bitter, and gloomy by +turns. + +This morning it appeared that his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, +and before many minutes had passed he was pouring forth his tribulations +with much frankness and simplicity. Mr. Griffith Donne's principal trial +was the existence of an elderly maiden aunt, who did not approve of him, +and was in the habit of expressing her disapproval in lengthy epistolary +correspondence, invariably tending to severe denunciation of his mode of +life, and also invariably terminating with the announcement that unless +he “desisted” (from what, or in what manner, not specified) she should +consider it her bounden duty to disinherit him forthwith. One of these +periodical epistles, having arrived before he had breakfasted, had +rather destroyed Griffith's customary equanimity, and various events of +the morning had not improved his frame of mind; consequently he came to +Dolly for comfort. + +“And she's coming to London, too,” he ended, after favoring the +assemblage with extracts from the letter. “And, of course, she will +expect me to do the dutiful. Confound her money! I wish she would build +an asylum for irate, elderly spinsters with it, and retire into it +for the remainder of her natural life. I don't want it, and”--with +praiseworthy ingenuousness--“I shouldn't get it if I did!” + +“But,” said Dolly, when they found themselves alone for a few minutes, +“it would be an agreeable sort of thing to have, Griffith, upon the +whole, wouldn't it?” + +They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his arm +thrown round the girl's waist, and she with both her plump, flexible +hands clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big, +round eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestling +attitudes and coaxing ways--with Griffith it may be understood--her +other adorers were treated cavalierly enough. + +“A nice sort of thing,” echoed Griffith. “I should think it would. I +should like to have it for your sake. I don't care for it so much for +myself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy you +such things as Old Flynn's nieces wear. It would n't be a waste of good +material on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about a +winter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,--a dark blue velvet, +and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs made of +long white silky fur--” + +“Angora,” said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in her +eyes. “Angora, Griffith.” + +“I don't know what it's called,” answered Griffith, “but it is exactly +your style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we were +only rich!” + +Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over his +shoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in some +such pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposing +that they were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must be +admitted that there is some consolation in being in a frame of mind +which can derive happiness from such innocent day-dreams. + +“Just think of the house we would have,” she said, “and the fun we could +all have together, if you and I were rich and--and married, Griffith. +We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich +_and_ married--goodness, Griffith!” and she opened her eyes wide and +looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome +by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her +in both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an +extremely but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had +kissed her about half a dozen times. + +It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding. +She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to +it, and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite +a refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her +disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely. + +“We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich,” she +said. “And then we could take care, of Aimée and Mollie, and help them +to make grand marriages.” + +But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat. + +“Dolly,” he said, “have you never thought--not even _thought_ that you +would like to have made a grand marriage yourself?” And though there +was not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it was +glaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate with +misery at the thought. + +These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girl +bound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly's great difficulty was to +pilot him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and she +had her own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was to +confront him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking hold +of one of his coat buttons. + +“I have thought of it a hundred times,” she said, “but not since I have +belonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteen +years old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have the +right to trouble us now. _You_ never think of marrying any one but me, +do you, Griffith?” + +“Think of marrying any one else!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “I +would n't marry a female Rajah with a diamond--” + +“I know you wouldn't,” Dolly interrupted. “I believe in you, Griffith. +Why won't you believe in me?” And the eyes lifted to his were so +perfectly honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics must +have believed them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, but +simply an unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, too +susceptible to outward influences for his own peace of mind. + +He was a _very_ unfortunate young man, it may as well be observed at +once, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was not +to blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable, +and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If he +had been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been more +successful; but in his intercourse with the world's slippery ones he +customarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for which +he had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; he +had fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck had +seemed to be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honest +men admired and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesied +better days; but so far it had really seemed that the people who were +willing to befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerful +cared little about the matter. So he alternately struggled and +despaired, and yet retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyed +life heartily in defiance of circumstances. With every member of the +Crewe household he was popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagement +to Dolly they regarded as a satisfactory arrangement. That he was barely +able to support himself, and scarcely possessed a presentable suit of +clothes, was to their minds the most inconsequent of trifles. It was +unfortunate, perhaps, but unavoidable; and their sublime trust in the +luck which was to ripen in all of them at some indefinite future time, +was their hope in this case. Some time or other he would “get into +something,” they had decided, and then he would marry Dolly, and they +would all enjoy the attendant festivities. And in the mean time they +allowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith welcome, inviting him to +their little impromptu suppers, and taking care never to be _de trop_ on +the occasion of _tête-à-tête_ conversations. + +The _tête-à-tête_ of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went back +to her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach laid +for the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of mind. +He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in enthusiastic +confidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; she was +never out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself to her +accompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited themselves +to her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby parlor, one +instinctively felt that shabbiness was not so utterly unbearable after +all, and acknowledged that it had a brightness of its own. Meeting her +at a clan gathering in the camps of the Philistines, one always found +her in excellent spirits, and quite undamped in her enjoyment of the +frequently ponderous rejoicings. In the Bilberry school-room, among +dog-eared French grammars and lead-pencilled music, education did not +appear actually dispiriting; and now, as she sat by the fire, with the +bright, sharp little scissors in lier hand, and the pile of white merino +on her knees and trailing on the hearth-rug at her feet, Griffith found +her simply irresistible. Ah! the bliss that revealed itself in the +prospect of making her Mrs. Donne, and taking possession of her +entirely! The joy of seeing her seated in an arm-chair of his own, by +a fire which was solely his property, in a room which was nobody else's +paradise! He could imagine so well how she would regard such a state of +affairs as a nice little joke, and would pretend to adapt herself to +her position with divers daring witcheries practised upon himself to the +dethroning of his reason; how she would make innocent, wicked speeches, +and be coaxing and dazzling and mock-matronly by turns; and above all, +how she would enjoy it, and make him enjoy it, too; and yet sometimes, +when they were quiet and alone, would drop all her whimsical little airs +and graces, and make such tender, unselfish, poetic little speeches, +that he would find himself startled in life wonder at the depth +and warmth and generosity of her girlish heart. He often found her +surprising him after this manner, and the surprise usually came when he +had just been most nearly betrayed into thinking of her as an adorable +little collection of witcheries and whimsicalities, and forgetting that +she had other moods. More than once she had absolutely brought tears +into his eyes, and a thrill to his heart, by some sudden, pathetic, +trustful speech, made after she had been dazzling and bewildering for +hours with her pretty coquetries and daring flashes of wit. No one but +Griffith ever saw her in these intense moods. The rest of them saw her +intense enough sometimes but the sudden, uncontrollable flashes of light +Griffith saw now and then, fairly staggered him. And the poor fellow's +love for her was something akin to adoration. There was only this one +woman upon earth to him, and his whole soul was bound up in her. It was +for her he struggled against disappointment, it was for her he hoped, +it was only the desperate strength of his love for her that made +disappointment so terribly bitter to him. Certainly his love made him +better and sweeter-tempered and more energetic than he would have been +if his life had not been so full of it. His one ambition was to gain +success to lay at her feet. To him success meant Dolly, and Dolly meant +Paradise, an honest Paradise, in which primeval bliss reigned supreme +and trial was unknown. Consequently the bright little scissors glanced +before his eyes a sort of loadstar. + +“I did n't tell you that nephew of Old Flynn's had come back, did I?” he +said, at length. + +“No,” answered Dolly, snipping diligently. “You never mentioned him. +What nephew, and where did he come from?” + +“A fellow of the name of Gowan, who has been travelling in the East for +no particular reason for the last ten years. He called on Flynn, at the +office, today, for the first time; and if I had been called upon to +kick him out, I should have regarded it as a cheerful and improving +recreation.” + +“Why?” laughed Dolly. “Is he one of the Philistines?” + +“Philistine!” echoed Griffith, with disgust. “I should think so. A +complacent idiot in a chronic state of fatigue. Drove up to the door +in a cab,--his own, by the way, and a confoundedly handsome affair it +is,--gave the reins to his tiger, and stared at the building tranquilly +for at least two minutes before he came in, stared at Old Flynn when he +_did_ come in, stared at me, shook hands with Old Flynn exhaustedly, and +then subsided into listening and paring his nails during the remainder +of the interview.” + +“Which might or might not be discreet under the circumstances,” said +Dolly. “Perhaps he had nothing to say. Never mind, Grif. Let us console +ourselves with the thought that we are not as these utterly worthless +explorers of the East are,” with a flourish of the scissors. + +“Better is a dinner of herbs in Vagabondia, with a garnish of +conversation and _bon-mots_, than a stalled ox among the Philistines +with dulness.” + +But about an hour after Griffith had taken his departure, as she was +bending over the table, industriously clipping at the merino, a thought +suddenly crossed her mind, which made her drop her scissors and look up +meditatively. + +“By the way,” she began, all at once. “Yes, it must be! How was it I +did not think of it when Grif was talking? I am sure, it was Gowan, Lady +Augusta said. To be sure it was. Mollie, this exploring nephew of +the Flynns is to partake of coffee and conversation with us at the +Bilberrys' on Friday, if I am not mistaken, and I never remembered it +until now.” + + + +CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + +A TOILET in Vagabondia was an event. Not an ordinary toilet, of course, +but a toilet extraordinary,--such as is necessarily called forth by some +festive gathering or unusual occasion. It was also an excitement after +a manner, and not a disagreeable one. It made demands upon the inventive +and creative powers of the whole family, and brought to light hidden +resources. It also aroused energy, and, being a success, was rejoiced +over as a brilliant success. Respectability might complacently retire +to its well-furnished chamber, and choose serenely from its unlimited +supply of figurative purple and legendary fine linen, without finding a +situation either dramatic or amusing; but in Vagabondia this was not the +case. Having contrived to conjure up, as it were, from the secret places +of the earth an evening dress, are not gloves still necessary? and, +being safe as regards gloves, do not the emergencies of the toilet +call for minor details seemingly unimportant, but still not to be done +without? Finding this to be the case, the household of Crewe rallied all +its forces upon such occasions, and set aside all domestic arrangements +for the time being. It was not impossible that Dolly should have +prepared for a rejoicing without the assistance of Mollie and Aimée, +Mrs. Phil and Tod, with occasional artistic suggestions from Phil and +any particular friend of the family who chanced to be below-stairs, +within hearing distance. It might not have appeared an impossibility, I +should say, to ordinary people, but the household of Crewe regarded +it as such, and accordingly, on the night of the Bilberry gathering, +accompanied Dolly in a body to her tiring-room. + +Upon the bed lay the merino dress, white, modest, and untrimmed, +save for the swan's-down accompaniments, but fitting to a shade and +exhibiting an artistic sweep of train. + +“It is a discreet sort of garment,” said Dolly, by way of comment; +“and it is 'suitable to our social position.' Do you remember when +Lady Augusta said that about my black alpaca, girls? Pleasant little +observation, was n't it? 'Toinette, I trust hair-pins are not injurious +to infantile digestive organs. If they are, perhaps it would be as well +to convince Tod that such is the case. What is the matter, Mollie?” + +Mollie, leaning upon the dressing-table in her favorite attitude, was +looking rather discontented. She was looking very pretty, also, it might +be said. Her sleepy, warm brown eyes, being upraised to Dolly, showed +larger and warmer and browner than usual; the heavy brown locks, +tumbling down over her shoulders, caught a sort of brownish, coppery +shade in the flare of gas-light; there was a flush on her soft cheeks, +and her ripe lips were curved in a lovely dissatisfaction. Hence Dolly's +remark. + +“I wish I was going,” said the child. + +Dolly's eyes flew open wide, in a very sublimity of astonishment. + +“Wish you were going?” she echoed. “To the Bilberrys'?” + +Mollie nodded. + +“Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself +a little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, +and find out what they do, and wear an evening dress.” + +Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment. + +“Mollie,” she said, “you are very innocent; and I always knew you were +very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,--so +utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a +Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe,” still regarding her with that +questioning pity, “--I believe you really _could_. I must keep an eye on +you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger.” + +It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it +should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to +see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She +understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, +and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she +suggested it. + +“Put it on, Mollie,” she said, “and let us see how you would look in it. +I should like to see you in full dress.” + +The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went +to the bed. + +“It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train,” she +said; “but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it +together at the waist.” + +She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; +and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned +round with a start. + +Standing in the light; the soft heavy white folds draping themselves +about her statuesque curves of form as they might have draped themselves +about the limbs of some young marble Grace or Goddess, with her white +arms and shoulders uncovered, with her unchildish yet youthful face, +with her large-irised eyes, her flush of momentary pleasure and half +awkwardness, she was just a little dazzling, and Dolly did not hesitate +to tell her so. + +“You are a beauty, Mollie,” she said. “And you are a woman in that +dress. If you were only a Bilberry now, what a capital your face would +be to you, and what a belle you would be!” + +Which remarks, if indiscreet, were affectionate, and made in perfect +good faith. + +But when, having donned the merino herself, she made her way down the +dark staircase to the parlor, there was a vague ghost of uneasiness in +her mind, and it was the sight of Mollie in full dress which had aroused +it. + +“She is so very pretty,” she said to herself. “I scarcely knew how very +pretty she was until I turned round from the glass to look at her. What +a pity it is that we are not rich enough to do her justice, and let her +enjoy herself as other girls do. And--and,” with a little sigh, “I am +afraid we are a dreadfully careless lot. I wonder if Phil ever thinks +about it? And she is so innocent and ignorant too. I hope she won't fall +in love with anybody disreputable. I wish I knew how to take care of +her.” + +And yet when she went into the parlor to run the gauntlet of family +inspection, and walked across the floor to show the sweep of her train, +and tried her little opera hood on Tod before putting it on herself, a +casual observer would certainly have decided that she had never had +a serious thought in her life. Griffith was there, of course. At +such times his presence was considered absolutely necessary, and his +admiration was always unbounded. His portion it was to tuck her under +his arm and lead her out to the cab when the train and wraps were +arranged and the hood put on. This evening, when he had made her +comfortable and shut the door, she leaned out of the window at the last +moment to speak to him. + +“I forgot to tell you, Griffith,” she said, “Lady Augusta said something +about a Mr. Gowan to Mr. Bilberry the other day when she invited me. I +wonder if it is the Gowan you were telling me about? He is to be there +to-night.” + +“Of course it is,” answered Griffith, with sudden discontent. “He is +just the sort of fellow the Bilberrys would lionize.” + +It was rather incorrect of Dolly to feel, as she did, a sudden flash +of anticipation. She could not help it. This intense appreciation of a +novel or dramatic encounter with an eligible Philistine was her great +weakness, and she made no secret of it even with her lover, which was +unwise if frank. + +She gave her fan a wicked flirt, and her eyes flashed as she did it. + +“A mine of valuable information lies unexplored before me,” she said. +“I must make minute inquiries concerning the habits and peculiarities of +the people of the East. I shall take the lion in tow, and Lady Augusta's +happiness will be complete.” + +Griffith turned pale--his conquering demon was jealousy. + +“Look here, Dolly,” he began. + +But Dolly settled herself in her seat again, and waved her hand with an +air of extreme satisfaction. She did not mean to make him miserable, +and would have been filled with remorse if she had quite understood the +extent of the suffering she imposed upon him sometimes merely through +her spirit, and the daring onslaughts she made upon people for whom she +cared little or nothing. She understood his numerous other peculiarities +pretty thoroughly, but she did not understand his jealousy, for the +simple reason that she had never been jealous in her life. + +“Tell the cabman to drive on,” she said, with a flourish. “There is balm +to be found even in Bilberry.” + +And when the man drove on she composed herself comfortably in a corner +of the vehicle, in perfect unconsciousness of the fact that she had left +a thorn behind, rankling in the bosom of the poor fellow who watched her +from the pavement. + +She was rather late, she found, on reaching her destination. The parlors +were full, and the more enterprising of the guests were beginning to +group themselves in twos and threes, and make spasmodic efforts at +conversation. But conversation at a Bilberry assemblage was rarely a +success,--it was so evident that to converse was a point of etiquette, +and it was so patent that conversation was expected from everybody, +whether they had anything to say or not. + +Inoffensive individuals of retiring temperament, being introduced to +each other solemnly and with ceremony, felt that to be silent was to be +guilty of a glaring breach of Bilberry decorum, and, casting about in +mental agony for available remarks, found none, and were overwhelmed +with amiable confusion. Lady Augusta herself, in copper-colored silk of +the most unbending quality and make, was not conducive to cheerfulness. +Yet Dolly's first thought on catching sight of her this evening was a +cheerful if audacious one. + +“She looks as if she was dressed in a boiler,” she commented, inwardly. +“I wonder if I shall ever live so long--I wonder if I ever _could_ live +long enough to submit to a dress like that. And yet she seems to be +almost happy in the possession of it. But, I dare say, that is the +result of conscious virtue.” + +It was a very fortunate thing for Dolly that she was not easily +discomposed. Most girls entering a room full of people, evidently +unemployed, and in consequence naturally prone to not too charitable +criticism of new-comers, might have lost self-possession. Not so Dolly +Crewe. Being announced, she came in neither with unnecessary hurry nor +timidly, and with not the least atom of shrinking from the eyes turned +toward her; and, simple and unassuming a young person as she appeared +on first sight, more than one pair of eyes in question found themselves +attracted by the white merino, the white shoulders, the elaborate +tresses, and the serene, innocent-looking orbs. + +Lady Augusta advanced slightly to meet her, with a grewsome rustling of +copper-colored stiffness. She did not approve of Dolly at any time, but +she specially disapproved of her habit of setting time at defiance and +ignoring the consequences. + +“I am very glad to see you,” she said, with the air of a potentate +issuing a proclamation. “I _thought_”--somewhat severely--“that you were +not coming at all.” + +“Did you?” remarked Dolly, with tranquillity. + +“Yes,” returned her ladyship. “And I could not understand it. It is nine +o'clock now, and I _believe_ I mentioned eight as the hour.” + +“I dare say you did,” said Dolly, unfurling her small downy fan, and +using it with much serene grace; “but I wasn't ready at eight. I hope +you are very well.” + +“Thank you,” replied her ladyship, icily. “I am very well. Will you +go and take a seat by Euphemia? I allowed her to come into the room +to-night, and I notice that her manner is not so self-possessed as I +should wish.” + +Dolly gave a little nod of acquiescence, and looked across the room +to where the luckless Euphemia sat edged in a corner behind a row of +painfully conversational elderly gentlemen, who were struggling with +the best intentions to keep up a theological discourse with the Rev. +Marmaduke. Euphemia was the eldest Miss Bilberry. She was overgrown +and angular, and suffered from chronic embarrassment, which was not +alleviated by the eye of her maternal parent being upon her. She was one +of Dolly's pupils, and cherished a secret but enthusiastic admiration +for her. And, upon the whole, Dolly was fond of the girl. She was +good-natured and unsophisticated, and bore the consciousness of her +physical and mental imperfections with a humility which was almost +touching to her friend sometimes. Catching Dolly's eye on this occasion, +she glanced at her imploringly, and then, catching the eye of her +mother, blushed to the tips of her ears, and relapsed into secret +anguish of mind. + +But Dolly, recognizing her misery, smiled reassuringly, and made her +way across the room to her, insinuating herself through the theological +phalanx. + +“I am so glad you are here at last,” said the girl. “I was so afraid +you would n't come. And oh, how nice you look, and how beautifully you +manage your train! I could never do it in the world. I should be sure +to tumble over it. But nothing ever seems to trouble you at all. You +haven't any idea how lovely you were when you went across the room to +mamma. Everybody looked at you, and I don't wonder at it.” + +“They would have looked at anybody,” answered Dolly, laughing. “They had +nothing else to do.” + +“That is quite true, poor things,” sighed Euphemia, sympathetically. +“You don't know the worst yet, either. You don't know how stupid they +are and can be, Dolly. That old gentleman near the screen has not spoken +one word yet, and he keeps sighing and wiping the top of his bald head +with his pocket-handkerchief until I can't keep my eyes off him, and I +am afraid he has noticed me. I don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but I have +got nothing to do myself, and I can't help it. But what I was going to +say was, that people looked at you as they did not look at others who +came in. You seem different some way. And I'm sure that Mr. Gowan of +mamma's has been staring at you until it is positively rude of him.” + +Dolly's slowly moving fan became stationary for a moment. + +“Mr. Gowan,” she said. “Who is Mr. Gowan?” + +“One of mamma's people,” answered Euphemia, “though I'm sure I can't +quite understand how he can be one of them. He looks so different from +the rest. He is very rich, you know, and very aristocratic, and has +travelled a great deal He has been all over the world, they say. There +he is at that side-table.” + +Dolly's eyes, travelling round the assemblage with complacent +indifference, rested at last on the side-table where the subject of +Euphemia's remarks sat. + +He really was an eligible Philistine, it seemed, despite Griffith's +unflattering description of him. + +He was a long-limbed, graceful man, with an aquiline face and superb +eyes, which at this moment were resting complacently upon Dolly herself. +It was not exactly admiration, either, which they expressed, it was +something of a more entertaining nature, at least so Dolly found it,--it +was nothing more nor less than a slowly awakening interest in her which +paid her the compliment of rising above the surface of evident boredom +and overcoming lassitude. It looked as if he was just beginning to study +her, and found the game worth the candle. Dolly met his glance with +steadiness, and as she met it she measured him. Then she turned to +Euphemia again and fluttered the fan slowly and serenely. + +“He's nice, is n't he?” commented the guileless Phemie. “If the rest of +them were like him, I don't think we should be so stupid, but as it is, +you know, he can't talk when there is nobody to talk to.” + +“No,” said Dolly. “One could hardly expect it of him. But I wonder why +he does not say something to that thin lady in the dress-cap.” + +“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Phemie, “I don't wonder in the least. That is Miss +Berenice MacDowlas, Dolly.” + +“Miss Berenice MacDowlas!” echoed Dolly, with a start. “You don't say +so?” + +“Yes,” answered Euphemia. “Do you know her? You spoke as if you did.” + +“Well--yes--no,” answered Dolly, with a half laugh. “I should say I know +somebody who does.” + +And she looked as if she was rather enjoying some small joke of her own. +The fact was that Miss MacDowlas was no other than Griffith's amiable +aunt. But, of course, it would not have done to tell this to Euphemia +Bilberry. Euphemia's ideas on the subject of the tender passion were +as yet crude and unformed, and Dolly Crewe was not prone to sentimental +confidences, so, as yet, Euphemia and indeed the whole Bilberry family, +remained in blissful ignorance of the very existence of such a person as +Mr. Griffith Donne. + +If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a +promising subject for diplomatic beguiling. + +“We have no need to depend upon her,” was Dolly's mental decision. “One +glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with +her. I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory +when 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting.” + +And her vivid recollection of the personal adornments of Tod at such +times brought a smile to her lips. + +She made herself very comfortable in her corner, and, exerting herself +to her utmost to alleviate Euphemia's sufferings, succeeded so far +that the girl forgot everything else but her enjoyment of her friend's +caustic speeches and satirical little jokes. Dolly was not afraid of +results, and, standing in due awe of public opinion, gave herself up to +the encouraging of any shadow of amusement quite heartily. She was so +entertaining in a small way upon this occasion, that Euphemia's frame of +mind became in some degree ecstatic. From her place of state across +the room, Lady Augusta regarded them with disapproval. It was so very +evident that they were enjoying themselves, and that this shocking +Dorothea Crewe was not to be suppressed. (Dorothea, be it known, was +Dolly's baptismal name, and Lady Augusta held to its full pronunciation +as a matter of duty.) It was useless, however, to disapprove. Behind the +theological phalanx Dolly sat enthroned plainly in the best of spirits, +and in rather a dangerous mood, to judge from outward appearances. There +was nothing of the poor relation about her at least. The little snowy +fan was being manipulated gracefully and with occasional artistic +nourishes, her enjoyable roulades of laughter tinkled audaciously, her +white shoulders were expressive, her gestures charming, and, above all, +people were beginning to look at her admiringly, if not with absolute +envy. Something must be done. + +Lady Augusta moved across the room, piloting her way between people on +ottomans and people on chairs, rustling with awe-inspiring majesty; +and, reaching the corner at last, she spoke to the daring Dolly over the +heads of the phalanx. + +“Dorothea,” she said, “we should like a little music.” + +This she had expected would be a move which could not fail to set the +young person in her right place. It would show her that her time was not +her own, and that she was expected to make herself useful; and it would +also set to rights any little mistake lookers-on might have previously +labored under as to her position. But even this did not destroy Dolly's +equanimity. She finished the small joke she had been making to Phemie, +and then turned to her august relative with a sweet but trying smile. + +“Music?” she said. “Certainly.” And arose at once. + +Then Lady Augusta saw her mistake. It was only another chance for Miss +Dolly to display herself to advantage, after all. When she arose from +her seat in the corner, and gave a glance of inspection to her train +over her bare white shoulder, people began to look at her again; and +when she crossed the room, she was an actual Sensation,--and to create +a sensation in the Bilberry parlors was to attain a triumph. Worse than +this, also, as her ladyship passed the bald-headed individual by +the screen, that gentleman--who was a lion as regarded worldly +possessions--condescended to make his first remark for the evening. + +“Pretty girl, that,” he said. “Nice girl,--fine figure. Relative?” + +“My daughter's governess, sir,” replied her ladyship, rigidly. + +And in Dolly's passage across the room another incident occurred which +was not lost upon the head of the house of Bilberry. Near the seat of +Mr. Ralph Gowan stood a vacated chair, which obstructed the passage to +the piano, and, observing it, the gentleman in question rose and removed +it, bowing obsequiously in reply to Dolly's slight gesture of thanks, +and when she took her place at the instrument he moved to a seat near +by, and settled himself to listen with the air of a man who expected to +enjoy the performance. + +And he evidently did enjoy it, for a very pleasant little performance it +was. The songs had a thrill of either pathos or piquancy in every +word and note, and the audience found they were listening in spite of +themselves. + +When they were ended, Ralph Gowan sought out Lady Augusta in her +stronghold, and placidly proposed being introduced to her young guest; +and since it was evident that he intended to leave her no alternative, +her ladyship was fain to comply; and so, before half the evening was +over, Dolly found herself being entertained as she had never been +entertained before in the camps of the Philistines at least. And as to +the Eastern explorer, boredom was forgotten for the time, and he gave +himself up entirely to the amusing and enjoying of this piquant young +person with the white shoulders. + +“Crewe,” he said to her during the course of their first conversation. +“I am sure Lady Augusta said 'Crewe.' Then you are relatives, I +suppose?” + +“Poor relations,” answered Dolly, coolly, and without a shadow of +discomfiture. “I am the children's governess. Trying, is n't it?” + +Ralph Gowan met the gaze of the bright eyes admiringly. Even at this +early period of their acquaintance he was falling into the snare +every other man fell into,--the snare of finding that Dolly Crewe was +startlingly unlike anybody else. + +“Not for the children,” he said. “Under such circumstances education +must necessarily acquire a new charm.” + +“Thank you,” said Dolly. + +When supper was announced, Lady Augusta made another attack and was +foiled again. She came to their corner, and, bending over Dolly, spoke +to her in stage-whisper. + +“I will bring young Mr. Jessup to take you into the supper-room, +Dorothea,” she said. + +But Dolly's plans were already arranged, and even if such had not been +the case she would scarcely have rejoiced at the prospect of the escort +of young Mr. Jessup, who was a mild young idiot engaged in the study of +theology. + +“Thank you, Lady Augusta,” she said, cheerfully, “but I have promised +Mr. Gowan.” + +And Lady Augusta had the pleasure of seeing her leave the room a minute +later, with her small glove slipped through Ralph Gowan's arm, and the +plainly delighted face of that gentleman inclined attentively toward the +elaborate Frenchy coiffure. + +At the supper-table little Miss Crewe was a prominent feature. At her +end of the table conversation flourished and cheerfulness reigned. Even +Euphemia and young Mr. Jessup, who had come down together in a mutual +agony of embarrassment, began to pluck up spirit and hazard occasional +remarks, and finally even joined in the laughter at Dolly's witticism. + +People lower down the table glanced up across the various dishes, and +envied the group who seemed to set the general heaviness and discontent +at defiance. + +Dolly, accompanied by coffee and cakes, was more at home and more +delightful than ever, so delightful, indeed, that Ralph Gowan began to +regard even Lady Augusta with gratitude, since it was to her he was, to +some extent, indebted for his new acquaintance. + +“She is a delightful--yes, a delightful girl!” exclaimed young Mr. +Jessup, confidentially addressing-Euphemia, and blushing vividly at his +own boldness. “I never heard such a laugh as she has in my life. It +is actually exhilarating. It quite raises one's spirits,” with mild +_naïveté_. + +Euphemia began to brighten at once. She could talk about Dolly Crewe if +she could talk about nothing else. + +“Oh, but you have n't seen _anything_ of her yet,” she said, in a burst +of enthusiasm. “If you could only see her every day, as I do, and hear +the witty things she says, and see how self-possessed she is, when other +people would be perfectly miserable with confusion, there would be no +wonder at your saying you never saw anybody like her. _I_ never did, I +am sure. And then, you know, somehow or other, she always looks so well +in everything she wears,--even in the shabbiest things, and her things +are nearly always shabby enough, for they are dreadfully poor. She is +always finding new ways of wearing things or new ways of doing her hair +or--or something. It is the way her dresses fit, I think. Oh, dear, how +I do wish the dressmaker could make mine fit as hers do! Just look at +that white merino, now, for instance. It is the plainest dress in the +room, and there is not a bit of fuss or trimming about it, and yet +see how soft the folds look and how it hangs,--the train, you know. +It reminds me of a picture,--one of those pictures in fashionable +monthlies,--illustrations of love stories, you know.” + +“It is a very pretty dress,” said young Mr. Jessup, eying it with great +interest. “What did you say the stuff was called?” + +“Merino,” answered Phemie. + +“Merino,” repeated Mr. Jessup. “I will try and remember. I should like +my sister Lucinda Maria to have a dress like it.” + +And he regarded it with growing admiration just tempered by the effect +of a mental picture of Lucinda Maria, who was bony and of remarkable +proportions, attired in its soft and flowing counterpart, with white +swan's-down adorning her bare shoulders. + +“May I ask,” said Miss MacDowlas, at the bottom of the table, to Lady +Augusta,--“may I ask who that young lady with the fresh completion +is,--the young lady in white at the other end?” + +“That is my governess,” replied her ladyship, freezingly. “Miss Dorothea +Crewe.” + +And Miss MacDowlas settled her eye-glass and gave Miss Dorothea Crewe +the benefit of a prolonged examination. + +“Crewe,” she said, at length. “Poor relation, I suppose?” with some +sharpness of manner. Dignity was lost upon Miss MacDowlas. + +“A branch of my family who are no great credit to it,” was the majestic +rejoinder. + +“Oh, indeed,” was the lady's sole remark, and then Miss MacDowlas +returned to her coffee, still, however, keeping her double eye-glass +across her nose and casting an occasional glance at Dolly. + +And just at this particular moment Dolly was unconsciously sealing +Ralph Gowan's fate for him. Quite unconsciously, I repeat, for the +most serious of Dolly's iniquities were generally unconscious. When +she flirted, her flirtations were of so frank and open a nature, that, +bewildered and fascinated though her victims might be, they must have +been blind indeed to have been deceived, and so there were those who +survived them and left the field safe, though somewhat sore at heart. +But when she was in her honest, earnest, life-enjoying moods, and meant +no harm,--when she was simply enjoying herself and trying to amuse her +masculine companion, when her gestures were unconscious and her speeches +unstudied, when she laughed through sheer merriment and was charmingly +theatrical because she could not help it and because little bits of +pathos and comedy were natural to her at times, then it was that the +danger became deadly; then it was that her admirers were regardless +of consequences, and defied results. And she was in just such a mood +to-night. + +“Come and see us?” she was saying. “Of course you may; and if you +come, you shall have an insight into the domestic workings of modern +Vagabondia. You shall be introduced to half a dozen people who toil not, +neither do they spin successfully, for their toiling and spinning seems +to have little result, after all. You shall see shabbiness and the spice +of life hand-in-hand; and, I dare say, you will find that the figurative +dinner of herbs is not utterly destitute of a flavor of _piquancy_. +You shall see people who enjoy themselves in sheer defiance of +circumstances, and who find a pathos in every-day events, which, in the +camps of the Philistines, mean nothing. Yes, you may come if you care +to.” And Ralph Gowan, looking down at the changeful eyes, saw an almost +tender light shining in their depths,--summoned up all at once perhaps +by one of those inexplicable touches of pathos of which she had spoken. + +But even coffee and conversation must come to an end at last, and so the +end of this evening came. People began to drop away one by one, bidding +their hostess good-night with the air of individuals who had performed +a duty, and were relieved to find it performed and disposed of for the +time being. So Dolly, leaving her companion with a bright farewell, +and amiably disposing of Lady Augusta, slipped up-stairs to the +retiring-room for her wraps. In the course of three minutes she +came down again, the scarlet shawl draped around her, and the highly +ornamental hood donned. She was of so little consequence in the Bilberry +household that no one met her when she reappeared. Even the servants +knew that her convenience or inconvenience was of small moment, so the +task of summoning her cab would have devolved upon herself, had it not +been for a little incident, which might have been either an accident +or otherwise. As she came down the staircase a gentleman crossed the +threshold of the parlor and came to meet her,--and this gentleman was no +other than Ralph Gowan. + +“Let me have the pleasure of putting you into your--” + +“Cab,” ended Dolly, with a trill of a laugh,--it was so evident that +he had been going to say “carriage.” “Thank you, with the greatest of +pleasure. Indeed, it is rather a relief to me, for they generally keep +me waiting. And I detest waiting.” + +He handed her into her seat, and lingered to see that she was +comfortable, perhaps with unnecessary caution; and then, when she gave +him her hand through the window, he held it for a moment longer than was +exactly called for by the exigencies of the occasion. + +“You will not forget that you have given me permission to call,” he +said, hesitating slightly. + +“Oh, dear no!” she answered. “I shall not forget. We are always glad to +see people--in Vagabondia.” + +And as the cab drove off, she waved the hand he had held in an airy +gesture of adieu, gave him a bewildering farewell nod, and, withdrawing +her face from the window, disappeared in the shadow within. + +“Great Jove!” meditated Ralph Gowan, when he had seen the last of her. +“And this is a nursery governess,--a sort of escape-valve for the spleen +and ill moods of that woman in copper-color. She teaches them French and +music, I dare say, and makes those spicy little jokes of hers over +the dog-eared arithmetic. Ah, well! such is impartial Fortune,” And he +strolled back into the house again, to make his adieus to Lady Augusta, +with the bewitching Greuze face fresh in his memory. + +But, for her part, Dolly, having left him behind in the Philistine camp, +was nestling comfortably in the dark corner of her cab, thinking of +Griffith, as she always did think of him when she found herself alone +for a moment. + +“I wonder if he will be at home when I get there,” she said. “Poor +fellow! he would find it dull enough without me, unless they were all +in unusually good spirits. I wonder if the time ever will come when we +shall have a little house of our own, and can go out together or stay at +home, just as we like.” + + + +CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + +“After a holiday comes a rest day.” The astuteness of this proverb +continually proved itself in Vagabondia, and this was more particularly +the case when the holiday had been Dolly's, inasmuch as Dolly was +invariably called upon to “fight her battles o'er again,” and recount +her experiences the day following a visit, for the delectation of the +household. Had there appeared in the camps a Philistine of notoriety, +then that Philistine must play his or her part again through the medium +of Dolly's own inimitable powers of description or representation; +had any little scene occurred possessing a spice of flavoring, or +illustrating any Philistine peculiarity, then Dolly was quite equal to +the task of putting it upon the family stage, and re-enacting it with +iniquitous seasonings and additions of her own. And yet the fun was +never of an ill-natured sort. When Dolly gave them a correct embodiment +of Lady Augusta in reception of her guests, with an accurate description +of the “great Copper-Boiler costume,” the bursts of applause meant +nothing more than that Dolly's imitative gifts were in good condition, +and that the “great Copper-Boiler costume” was a success. Then, the +feminine mind being keenly alive to an interest in earthly vanities, an +enlargement on Philistine adornments was considered necessary, and Dolly +always rendered herself popular by a minute description of the reigning +fashions, as displayed by the Bilberry element. She found herself quite +repaid for the trouble of going into detail, by the unsophisticated +pleasure in Mollie's eyes alone, for to Mollie outward furnishings +seemed more than worthy of description and discussion. + +Accordingly, the morning after Lady Augusta's _conversazione_, Dolly +gave herself up to the task of enlivening the household. It was Saturday +morning, fortunately, and on Saturday her visits to the Bilberry mansion +were dispensed with, so she was quite at liberty to seat herself by +the fire, with Tod in her arms, and recount the events of the evening. +Somehow or other, she had almost regarded him as a special charge +from the first. She had always been a favorite with him, as she was a +favorite with most children. She was just as natural and thoroughly at +home with Tod in her arms, or clambering over her feet, or clutching at +the trimmings of her dress, as she was under any other circumstances; +and when on this occasion Griffith came in at noon to hear the news, and +found her kneeling upon the carpet with outstretched hands teaching the +pretty little tottering fellow to walk, he felt her simply irresistible. + +“Come to Aunt Dolly,” she was saying. “Tod, come to Aunt Dolly.” And +then she looked up laughing. “Look at him, Griffith,” she said. “He has +walked all the way from that arm-chair.” And then she made a rush at +the child, and caught him in her arms with a little whirl, and jumped +up with such a light-hearted enjoyment of the whole affair that it was +positively exciting to look at her. + +It was quite natural--indeed, it would have been quite unnatural if she +had not found her usual abiding-place in her lover's encircling arm +at once, even with Tod conveniently established on one of her own, +and evidently regarding his own proximity upon such an occasion as +remarkable if nothing else. That arm of Griffith's usually _did_ slip +around her waist even at the most ordinary times, and long use had +so accustomed Dolly to the habit that she would have experienced some +slight feeling of astonishment if the familiarity had been omitted. + +It was rather a surprise to the young man to find that Miss MacDowlas +had appeared upon the scene, and that she had partaken of coffee and +conversation in the flesh the evening before. + +“But it's just like her,” he said. “She is the sort of relative who +always _does_ turn up unexpectedly, Dolly. How does she look?” + +“Juvenescent,” said Dolly; “depressingly so to persons who rely upon her +for the realizing of expectations. A very few minutes satisfied me that +I should never become Mrs. Griffith Donne upon _her_ money. It is a +very fortunate thing for us that we are of Vagabondian antecedents, +Griffith,--just see how we might trouble ourselves, and wear our +patience out over Miss MacDowlas, if we troubled ourselves about +anything. This being utterly free from the care of worldly possessions +makes one touchingly disinterested. Since we have nothing to expect, we +are perfectly willing to wait until we get it.” + +She had thought so little about Ralph Gowan,--once losing sight of +him, as he stood watching her on the pavement, that in discussing other +subjects she had forgotten to mention him, and it was only Mollie's +entrance into the room that brought him upon the carpet. + +Coming in, with her hair bunched up in a lovely, disorderly knot, and +the dimple on her left cheek artistically accentuated by a small patch +of black, the youngest Miss Crewe yet appeared to advantage, when, after +appropriating Tod, she slipped down into a sitting posture with him on +the carpet, in the midst of the amplitude of folds of Lady Augusta's +once gorgeous wrapper. + +“Have you told him about the great Copper-Boiler costume, Dolly?” she +said, bending down so that one brown tress hung swaying before Tod's +eyes. “Has she, Griffith?” + +“Yes,” answered Griffith, looking at her with a vague sense of +admiration. He shared all Dolly's enthusiasm on the subject of Mollie's +prettiness. + +“Was n't it good? I wish I was as cool as Dolly is. And poor Phemie--and +the gentleman who made love to you all the evening, Dolly. What was his +name? Was n't it Gowan?” + +Griffith's eyes turned toward Dolly that instant. + +“Gowan!” he exclaimed. “You didn't say anything about him. You didn't +even say he was there.” + +“Did n't she?” said Mollie, looking up with innocently wide-open eyes. +“Why, he made love to her all--” + +“I wish you would n't talk such rubbish, Mollie,” Dolly interrupted +her--a trifle sharply because she understood the cloud on her lover's +face so well. “Who said Mr. Gowan made love to me? Not I, you may be +sure. I told you he talked to me, and that was all.” + +“You did not tell _me_ that much,” said Griffith, dryly. + +It would scarcely have been human nature for Dolly not to have fired a +little then, in spite of herself. She was constitutionally good-natured, +but she was not seraphic, and her lover's rather excusable jealousy +was specially hard to bear, when, as upon this occasion, it had no real +foundation. + +“I did not think it necessary,” she said; “and, besides, I forgot; +but if you wish to know the particulars,” with a stiff little air +of dignity, “I can give them you. Mr. Gowan was there, and found the +evening stupid, as every one else did. There was no one else to talk to, +so he talked to me, and when I came home he put me into the cab. And, +the fact is, he is a good-natured Philistine enough. That is all, I +believe, unless you would like me to try to record all he said.” + +“No, thank you,” answered Griffith, and instantly began to torture +himself with imagining what he really had said, making the very natural +mistake of imagining what he would have said himself, and then giving +Ralph Gowan credit for having perpetrated like tender gallantries. He +never could divest himself of the idea that every living man found +Dolly as entrancing as he found her himself. It could only be one man's +bitter-sweet portion to be as desperately and inconsolably in love with +her as he was himself, and no other than himself, or a man who might be +his exact prototype, could have cherished a love at once so strong and +so weak. There had been other men who had loved Dolly Crewe,---adored +her for a while, in fact, and imagined themselves wretches because they +had been unsuccessful; but they had generally outlived their despair, +and their adoration, cooling for want of sustenance, had usually settled +down into a comfortable admiring liking for the cause of their +misery, but it would never have been so with Griffith. This ordinary, +hard-working, ill-paid young man had passionate impulse and hidden power +of suffering enough in his restive nature to make a broken hope a +broken life to him. His long-cherished love for the shabbily attired, +often-snubbed, dauntless young person yclept Dorothea Crewe was the +mainspring of his existence. He would have done daring deeds of valor +for her sake, if circumstances had called upon him to comport himself +in such tragic manner; had he been a knight of olden time, he would just +have been the chivalrous, hotheaded, but affectionate young man to have +entered the lists in his love's behalf, and tilted against tremendous +odds, and died unvanquished; but living in the nineteenth century, his +impetuosity, being necessarily restrained, became concentrated upon one +point, and chafed him terribly at times. Without Dolly, he would have +been without an object in life; with Dolly, he was willing to face +any amount of discouragement and misfortune; and at this stage of his +affection--after years of belief in that far-off blissful future--to +lose her would have brought him wreck and ruin. + +So when Dolly, in the full consciousness of present freedom from +iniquity, withdrew herself from his encircling arm and turned her +attention to Tod and Mollie, he was far more wretched than he had any +right to be, and stood watching them, and gnawing his slender mustache, +gloomy and distrustful. + +But this could not last long, of course. They might quarrel, but they +always made friends; and when in a short time Mollie, doubtless feeling +herself a trifle in the way, left the room with the child, Dolly's +impulsive warm-heartedness got the better of her upon this occasion as +upon all others. + +She came back to her lover's side and laid her hand on his arm. + +“Don't let us quarrel about Ralph Gowan, Griffith,” she said. “It was my +fault; I ought to have told you.” + +He fairly crushed her in his remorseful embrace almost before she had +finished her appeal. His distrust of her was as easily overcome as it +was roused; one touch of her hand, one suspicion of a tremor in her +voice, always conquered him and reduced him to penitent submission. + +“You are an angel,” he said, “and I am an unfeeling clod. No other woman +would bear with me as you do. God bless you, Dolly.” + +She nestled within his arms and took his caresses almost gratefully. +Perhaps it would have been wiser to have shown him how deep a sting his +want of faith gave her sometimes, but she was always so glad when their +misunderstandings were at an end, that she would not have so revenged +herself upon him for the world. The cool, audacious self she exhibited +in the camps of the Philistines was never shown to Griffith; in her +intercourse with him she was only a slightly intensified edition of the +child he had fallen in love with years before,--a bright, quick-witted +child, with a deep nature and an immense faculty for loving and clinging +to people. Dolly at twenty-two was pretty much what she had been at +fifteen, when they had quarrelled and made up again, loved each other +and romanced over the future brilliancy of prospect which now seemed +just as far off as ever. + +In five minutes after the clearing away of the temporary cloud, they +were in a seventh heaven of bliss, as usual. In some of his wanderings +about town, Griffith had met with a modest house, which would have been +the very thing for them if they had possessed about double the income of +which they were at present in receipt. He often met with houses of this +kind; they seemed, in fact, to present themselves to his longing vision +every week of his life; and I think it rather to his credit to mention +that he never failed to describe them to Dolly, and enlarge upon their +merits with much eloquence. Furniture warehouses also were a source of +some simple pleasure to them. _If_ they possessed the income (not that +they had the remotest prospect of possessing it), and rented the house, +naturally they would require furniture, and it was encouraging to +know that the necessary articles might be bought _if_ the money was +forthcoming. Consequently a low-priced table or a cheap sofa was a +consolation, if not a source of rejoicing, and their happiest hours were +spent in counting the cost of parlor carpets never to be purchased, +and window curtains of thin air. They even economized sternly in minor +matters, and debated the expenditure of an extra shilling as closely as +if it had been a matter entailing the deepest anxiety; and on the whole, +perhaps, practical persons might have condemned their affectionate, +hopeful weakness as childish and nonsensical, but they were happy in the +indulgence of it, at all events, and surely they might have been engaged +in a less tender and more worldly pastime. There were other people, +perhaps, weak and imprudent themselves it may be, who would have seen a +touch of simple pathos in this unconsciously shown faith in Fortune and +her not too kindly moods. + +“Old Flynn ought to raise my salary, you know, Dolly,” said Griffith. “I +work hard enough for him, confound him!” somewhat irrelevantly, but with +laudable and not unamiable vigor. He meant no harm to “Old Flynn;” he +would have done a good-natured thing for him at any moment, the mild +expletive was simply the result of adopted custom. “There is n't a +fellow in the place who does as much as I do. I worked from seven in +the morning till midnight every day last week, and I wrote half his +editorials for him, and nobody knows he does n't get them up himself. If +he would only give me two hundred instead of one, just see how we could +live.” + +“We could live on a hundred and fifty,” put in Dolly, with an air of +practical speculation which did her credit, “if we were economical.” + +“Well, say a hundred and fifty, then,” returned Griffith, quite as +seriously, “for we should be economical. Say a hundred and fifty. It +would be nothing to him,--confound him!--but it would be everything in +the world to us. That house in the suburbs was only thirty pounds, +taxes and all, and it was just the very thing we should want if we were +married.” + +“How many rooms?” asked Dolly. + +“Six, and kitchen and cupboards and all that sort of contrivances. I +asked particularly--went to see the landlord to inquire and see what +repairing he would do if we wanted the place. There is a garden of a +few yards in the front, too, and one or two rose-bushes. I don't know +whether they ever bloom, but if they do, you could wear them in your +hair. I thought of that the minute I saw them. The first time I saw you, +Dolly, you had a rose in your hair, and I remember thinking I had never +seen a flower worn in the same way. Other girls do n't wear things as +you wear them somehow or other.” + +Dolly acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a coaxing, +patronizing little squeeze of his arm. + +“You think they don't,” she said, “you affectionate old fellow, that is +it. Well, and what did the landlord say? Would he beautify?” + +“Well, yes, I think he would if the matter was pressed,” said Griffith, +returning to the subject with a vigor of enjoyment inspiriting to +behold. “And, by the way, Dolly, I saw a small sofa at a place in town +which was just the right size to fit into a sort of alcove there is in +the front parlor.” + +“Did you inquire the price?” said Dolly. + +“Well--no,” cheerfully; “but I can, if you would like to know it. You +see, I had n't any money, and did n't know when I should have any, and +I felt rather discouraged at the time, and I had an idea the price would +make me feel worse, so I did not go in. But it was a comfortable, plump +little affair, covered with green,--the sort of thing I should like to +have in our house, when we have one. It would be so comfortable to throw +one's self down on to after a hard day's work, particularly if one had a +headache.” + +“Yes,” said Dolly; and then, half unconsciously and quite in spite of +herself, the ghost of a sigh escaped her. She could not help wishing +things were a trifle more real sometimes, bright and whimsically +unworldly as she was. + +“What did that mean?” Griffith asked her. + +She wakened up, as it were, and looked as happy as ever in an instant, +creeping a trifle closer to him in her loving anxiety to blind him to +the presence of the little pain in her heart. + +“Nothing,” she said, briskly. And then--“We don't want much, do we, +Griffith?” + +“No,” said Griffith, a certain grim sense of humor getting the better of +him. “And we have n't got it.” + +She laughed outright at the joke quite enjoyably. Even the grimmest of +jocosities wins its measure of respect in Vagabondia, and besides, +her laugh removed the impression her sigh might have created. She was +herself again at once. + +“Never mind,” she said. (It was always “never mind.”) “Never mind, it +will all come right in the end. Humble merit _must_ be rewarded, and if +humble merit isn't, we can only console ourselves with the reasonable +reflection that there must be something radically wrong with the state +of society. Who knows whether you may not 'get into something,' as Phil +says, which may be twenty times better than anything Old Flynn can give +you!” with characteristic Vagabondian hopefulness. + +Just at this juncture Phil himself entered, or, rather, half entered, +for he only put his head--a comely, curled head surmounted by a +disreputable velvet cap--half into the room. + +“Oh, you are here, are you?” he said. “You are the fellow I want. I am +just touching up something I want to show you. Come into the studio for +a minute or so, Grif.” + +“It is that picture Mollie sat for,” he explained, as they followed him +into the big, barren room, dignified by the name of studio. “I have just +finished it.” + +Mollie was standing before the picture herself when they went in to look +at it, but she did not turn round on hearing them. She had Tod in her +arms yet, but she seemed to have forgotten his very existence in her +preoccupation. And it was scarcely to be wondered at. The picture was +only a head,--Mollie's own fresh, drowsy-eyed face standing out in +contrast under some folds of dark drapery thrown over the brown hair +like a monk's cowl, two or three autumn-tinted oak leaves clinging to +a straying tress,--but it was effective and novel enough to be a +trifle startling. And Mollie was looking at it with a growing shadow of +pleasure in her expression. She was slowly awakening to a sense of its +beauty, and she was by no means dissatisfied. + +“It is lovely!” Dolly cried out, enthusiastically. + +“So it is,” said Griffith. “And as like her as art can make it. It's a +success, Phil.” + +Phil stepped back with a critical air to give it a new inspection. + +“Yes, it is a success,” he said. “Just give me a chance to get it hung +well, and it will draw a crowd next season. You shall have a new dress +if it does, Mollie, and you shall choose it yourself.” + +Mollie roused herself for a moment, and lighted up. + +“Shall I?” she said; and then all at once she blushed in a way that +made Dolly stare at her in some wonder. It seemed queer to think that +Mollie--careless child Mollie--was woman enough to blush over anything. + +And then Aimée and 'Toinette came in, and looked on and admired just as +openly and heartily as the rest, only Aimée was rather the more reticent +of the two, and cast furtive glances at Mollie now and then. But Mollie +was in a new mood, and had very little to say; and half an hour after, +when her elder sister went into the family sitting-room, she found her +curled up in an easy-chair by the fire, looking reflective. Dolly went +to the hearth and stood near her. + +“What are you thinking about?” she asked. + +Mollie stirred uneasily, and half blushed again. + +“I don't know,” she answered. + +“Yes, you do,” contradicted Dolly, good-naturedly. “Are you thinking +that it is a pleasant sort of a thing to be handsome enough to be made a +picture of, Mollie?” + +The brown eyes met hers with an innocent sort of deprecating +consciousness. “I--I never thought about myself in that way before,” + admitted Mollie, naively. + +“Why,” returned Dolly, quite sincerely, “you must have looked in the +glass.” + +“Ye-es,” with a slow shake of the head; “but it did n't look the same +way in the glass,--it did n't look as nice.” + +Dolly regarded her with a surprise which was not unmingled with +affectionate pity. She was not as unsophisticated as Mollie, and never +had been. As the feminine head of the family, she had acquired a certain +shrewdness early in life, and had taken a place in the household the +rest were hardly equal to. There had been no such awakening as this for +her. At fourteen, she had been fully and complacently conscious of the +exact status of her charms and abilities, physical and mental. She had +neither under-nor over-rated them. She had smiled back at her reflection +in her mirror, showing two rows of little milk-white teeth, and being +well enough satisfied with being a charming young person with a secure +complexion and enviable self-poise. She understood herself, and +attained perfection in the art of understanding others. Her rather +sharp experience had not allowed _her_ to look in the glass in guileless +ignorance of what she saw there, and perhaps this made her all the +fonder of Mollie. + +“What kind of a dress are you going to choose if Phil buys you one?” she +asked. + +“Maroon,” answered Mollie. “Oh!” with a little shuddering breath of +desperate delight, “how I wish I could have a maroon silk!” + +Dolly shook her head doubtfully. + +“It wouldn't be serviceable, because you could only have the one, and +you could n't wear it on wet days,” she said. + +“I should n't care about its being serviceable,” burst forth innocent +Vagabondia, rebelling against the trammels of prudence. “I want +something pretty. I do so detest serviceable things. I would stay in the +house all the wet days if I might have a maroon silk to wear when it was +fine.” + +“She is beginning to long for purple and fine linen,” sighed Dolly, as +she ran up to her bedroom afterward. “The saints forefend! It is a bad +sign. She will fall in love the next thing. Poor, indiscreet little +damsel!” + +But, despite her sage lamentations, there was even at that moment a plan +maturing in her mind which was an inconsistent mixture of Vagabondia's +goodnature and whim. Mollie's fancy for the maroon silk had struck her +as being artistic, and there was not a Crewe among them who had not +a weakness for the artistic in effect. Tod himself was imaginatively +supposed to share it and exhibit preternatural intelligence upon the +subject. In Dolly it amounted to a passion which she found it impossible +to resist. By it she was prompted to divers small extravagances at +times, and by it she was assisted in the arranging of all her personal +adornments. It was impossible to slight the mental picture of Mollie +with maroon drapery falling about her feet, with her cheeks tinted with +excited color, and with that marvel of delight in her eyes. She could +not help thinking about it. + +“She would be simply incomparable,” she found herself soliloquizing. +“Just give her that dress, put a white flower in her hair and set her +down in a ballroom, or in the dress circle of a theatre, and she would +set the whole place astir. Oh, she must have it.” + +It was very foolish and extravagant of course; even the people who are +weakly tolerant enough to rather lean toward Dorothea Crewe, will +admit this. The money that would purchase the maroon garment would have +purchased a dozen minor articles far more necessary to the dilapidated +household; but while straining at such domestic gnats as these articles +were, she was quite willing and even a trifle anxious to swallow +Mollie's gorgeous camel. Such impulsive inconsistency was +characteristic, however, and she betook herself to her bedroom with the +intention of working out the problem of accommodating supply to demand. + +She took out her purse and emptied its contents on to her +dressing-table. Two or three crushed bills, a scrap or so of +poetry presented by Griffith upon various tender occasions, and a +discouragingly small banknote, the sole remains of her last quarter's +salary The supply was not equal to the demand, it was evident. But she +was by no means overpowered. She was dashed, but not despairing. Of +course, she had not expected to launch into such a reckless piece of +expenditure all at once, she had only thought she might attain her +modest ambition in the due course of time, and she thought so yet. She +crammed bills and bank-note back into the purse with serene cheerfulness +and shut it with a little snap of the clasp. + +“I will begin to save up,” she said, “and I will persuade Phil to help +me. We can surely do it between us, and then we will take her somewhere +and let her have her first experience of modern society. What a +sensation she would create in the camps of the Philistines!” + +She descended into the kitchen after this, appearing in those lower +regions in the full glory of apron and rolled-up sleeves, greatly to the +delight of the youthful maid-of-all-work, who, being feeble of intellect +and fond of society, regarded the prospect of spending the afternoon +with her as a source of absolute rejoicing. The “Sepoy,” as she was +familiarly designated by the family, was strongly attached to Dolly, as, +indeed, she was to every other member of the household. The truth was, +that the usefulness of the Sepoy (whose baptismal name was Belinda) was +rather an agreeable fiction than a well-established fact. She had been +adopted as a matter of charity, and it was charity rather than any +recognized brilliance of parts which caused her to be retained. Phil had +picked her up on the streets one night in time gone by, and had brought +her home principally because her rags were soaked and she had asserted +that she had nowhere to go for shelter, and partly, it must be +confessed, because she was a curiosity. Having taken her in, nobody was +stern enough to turn her out to face her fate again, and so she stayed. +Nobody taught her anything in particular about household economy, +because nobody knew anything particular to teach her. It was understood +that she was to do what she could, and that what she could not do +should be shared among them. She could fetch and carry, execute small +commissions, manage the drudgery and answer the door-bell, when she was +presentable, which was not often; indeed, this last duty had ceased +to devolve upon her, after she had once confronted Lady Augusta with +personal adornments so remarkable as to strike that august lady dumb +and rigid with indignation upon the threshold, and cause her, when she +recovered herself, to stonily, but irately demand an explanation of the +gratuitous insult she considered had been offered her. Belinda's +place was in the kitchen, after this, and to these regions she usually +confined herself, happily vigorous in the discharge of her daily duties. +She was very fond of Dolly, and hailed the approach of her days of +freedom with secret demonstrations of joy. She hoarded the simple +presents of finery given her by that young person with care, and +regarded them in the light of sacred talismans. A subtle something in +her dwarfed, feeble, starved-out nature was stirred, it may be, by the +sight of the girl's life and brightness; and, apart from this, it +would not have been like Dolly Crewe if she had not sympathized, half +unconsciously, half because she was constitutionally sympathetic, with +even this poor stray. If she had been of a more practical turn of mind, +in all probability she would have taken Belinda in hand and attacked the +work of training her with laudable persistence; but, as it was, private +misgivings as to the strength of her own domestic accomplishments caused +her to confine herself to more modest achievements. She could encourage +her, at least, and encourage her she did with divers good-natured +speeches and a leniency of demeanor which took the admiring Sepoy by +storm. + +Saturday became a white day in the eyes of Belinda, because, being a +holiday, it left Dolly at liberty to descend into the kitchen and apply +herself to the study of cookery as a science, with much agreeable bustle +and a pleasant display of high spirit and enjoyment of the novelty of +her position. She had her own innocent reasons for wishing to become a +proficient in the art, and if her efforts were not always crowned with +success, the appearance of her handiwork upon the table on the +occasion of the Sunday's dinner never disturbed the family equilibrium, +principally, perhaps, because the family digestion was unimpaired. They +might be jocose, they had been ironical, but they were never severe, +and they always addressed themselves to the occasionally arduous task +of disposing of the viands with an indifference to consequences which +nothing could disturb. + +“One cannot possibly be married without knowing something of cookery,” + Dolly had announced oracularly; “and one cannot gain a knowledge of +it without practising, so I am going to practise. None of you are +dyspeptic, thank goodness, so you can stand it. The only risk we run is +that Tod might get hold of a piece of the pastry and be cut off in the +bloom of his youth; but we must keep a strict watch upon him.” + +And she purchased a cookery book and commenced operations, and held +to her resolve with Spartan firmness, encouraged by private but +enthusiastic bursts of commendation from Griffith, who, finding her out, +read the tender meaning of the fanciful seeming whim, and was so touched +thereby that the mere sight of her in her nonsensical little affectation +of working paraphernalia raised him to a seventh heaven of bliss. + +When she made her entrance into the kitchen on this occasion, and began +to bustle about in search for her apron, Belinda, who was on her knees +polishing the grate, amidst a formidable display of rags and brushes, +paused to take breath and look at her admiringly. + +“Are yer goin' to make yer pies 'n things, Miss Dolly?” she asked. +“Which, if ye are, yer apern 's in the left 'and dror.” + +“So it is,” said Dolly. “Thank you. Now where is the cookery book?” + +“Left 'and dror agin,” announced Belinda, with a faint grin. “I allus +puts it there.” + +Whereupon Dolly, making industrious search for it, found it, and applied +herself to a deep study of it, resting her white elbows on the dresser, +and looking as if she had been suddenly called upon to master its +contents or be led to the stake. She could not help being intense and in +earnest even over this every-day problem of pies and puddings. + +“Fricassee?” she murmured. “Fricassee was a failure, so was mock-turtle +soup; it looked discouraging, and the fat _would_ swim about in a way +that attracted attention. Croquettes were not so bad, though they were +a little stringy; but beef _à la mode_ was positively unpleasant. Jugged +hare did very well, but oyster _pâtés_ were dubious. Veal pie Griffith +liked.” + +“There's somebody a-ringin' at the door-bell,” said Belinda, breaking +in upon her. “He's rung twict, which I can go, mum, if I ain't got no +smuts.” + +Dolly looked up from her book. + +“Some one is going now, I think,” she said. “I hope it is n't a +visitor,” listening attentively. + +But it was a visitor, unfortunately. In a few minutes Mollie came in, +studiously perusing a card she held in her hand. + +“Ralph,” she proclaimed, coming forward slowly. “Ralph Gowan. It's Lady +Augusta's gentleman, Dolly, and he wants to see you.” + +Dolly took the card and looked at it, giving her shoulders a tiny shrug +of surprise. + +“He has not waited long,” she said; “and it is rather inconvenient, but +it can't be helped. I suppose I shall have to run up-stairs and present +him to Phil.” + +She untied her apron, drew down her sleeves, settled the bit of ribbon +at her throat, and in three minutes opened the parlor door and greeted +her visitor, looking quite as much in the right place as she had done +the night before in the white merino. + +“I am very glad to see you,” she said, shaking hands with him, “and I +am sure Phil will be, too. He is always glad to see people, and just now +you will be doubly welcome, because he has a new picture to talk about. +Will you come into the studio, or shall I bring him here? I think it had +better be the studio at once, because you will be sure to drift there in +the end,--visitors always do.” + +“The studio let it be, if you please,” answered Gowan, wondering, just +as he had done the night before, at the indescribable something in +her manner which was so novel because it was so utterly free from any +suggestion of affectation. It would have been a difficult matter to tell +her that he had not come for any other reason than to see herself again, +and yet this really was the case. + +But his rather fanciful taste found Phil a novelty also when she led him +into the studio, and presented him to that young man, who was lying upon +a couch with a cigar in his mouth. + +Phil had something of the same cool friendliness of deportment, and, +being used to the unexpected advent of guests at all hours, was quite +ready to welcome him. He had the same faculty for making noticeable +speeches, too, and was amiable, though languid and _débonnaire_, and by +no means prone to ceremony. In ten minutes after he had entered the room +Ralph Gowan understood, as by magic, that, little as the world was to +these people, they had, in their Bohemian fashion, learned through sheer +tact to comprehend and tolerate its weaknesses. He examined the pictures +on the walls and in the folios, and now and then found himself roused +into something more than ordinary admiration. But he was disappointed in +one thing. He failed in accomplishing the object of his visit. + +After she had seen that Phil and the paintings occupied his attention to +some extent, Dolly left them. + +“I was beginning to think about pies and puddings when you came,” she +said, “and I must go back to them. Saturday is the only day Lady Augusta +leaves me, in which to improve in branches of domestic usefulness,” with +an iniquitous imitation of her ladyship's manner. + +After which she went down to the kitchen again and plunged into culinary +detail with renewed vigor, thinking of the six-roomed house in the +suburbs, and the green sofa which was to fit into the alcove in the +front parlor, growing quite happy over the mental picture, in blissful +unconsciousness of the fact that a train had been that day laid, and +that a spark would be applied that very night through the medium of a +simple observation made by Phil to her lover. + +“Gowan was here this morning, Grif, and Dolly brought him into the +studio. He's not a bad sort of fellow for a Philistine, and he seems +to know something about pictures. I should n't be surprised if he came +again.” + + + +CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + +THIS was the significant and poetic appellation which at once attached +itself to Ralph Gowan after his first visit to the studio in Bloomsbury +Place, and, as might have been expected, it was a fancy of Dolly's, the +affixing of significant titles being one of her _fortes_. + +“The lilies of the field,” she observed, astutely, “are a distinct +class. They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his +glory was not arrayed like one of these. Yes, my young friends, Mr. +Ralph Gowan is a lily of the field.” + +And she was not far wrong. Twenty-seven years before Mr. Ralph Gowan +had been presented to an extended circle of admiring friends as the sole +heir to a fortune large enough to have satisfied the ambitions of half +a dozen heirs of moderate aspirations, and from that time forward his +lines had continually fallen in pleasant places. As a boy he had been +handsome, attractive, and thoroughbred, and consequently popular; his +good looks made him a favorite with women, his good fortune with men; +his friends were rather proud of him, and his enemies were powerless +against him; he found it easy to be amiable because no obstacles to +amiability lay in his path; and altogether he regarded existence as a +comfortable enough affair. + +At school his fellows had liked him just as boys as well as men are apt +to like fortunate people; and as he had grown older he had always found +himself a favorite, it may be for something of the same reason. But +being, happily, a gentleman by nature, he had not been much spoiled by +the general adulation. Having been born to it, he carried himself easily +through it, scarcely recognizing the presence of what would have been +patent to men less used to popularity. He was fond of travelling, and so +had amused himself by comfortably arranging uncomfortable journeys and +exploring pleasantly those parts of the earth which to ordinary tourists +would appear unattainable. + +He was not an ordinary young man, upon the whole, which was evinced by +his making no attempt to write a book of travels, though he might safely +have done so; and really, upon the whole, “lily of the field” though +chance had made him, he was neither useless nor purposeless, and rather +deserved his good luck than otherwise. + +Perhaps it was because he was not an ordinary individual that his fancy +was taken by the glimpse he had caught of life in Vagabondia. It was +his first glimpse of the inner workings of such a life, and its +novelty interested him. A girl of twenty-two who received attention and +admiration in an enjoyable, matter-of-fact manner, as if she was used +to and neither over- nor under-valued it, who could make coffee and +conversation bearable and even exciting, who could hold her own against +patronage and slights, and be as piquant and self-possessed at home as +in society, who could be dazzling at night and charming in the morning, +was novelty enough in herself to make Bloomsbury Place attractive, even +at its dingiest, and there were other attractions aside from this one. + +Phil in the studio, taking life philosophically, and regarding the world +and society in general with sublime and amiable tolerance, was as unique +in his way as Dolly was in hers; his handsome girl-wife, who had come +in to them with her handsome child in her arms, was unique also; Mollie +herself, who had opened the door and quite startled him with the mere +sight of her face,--well, Mollie had impressed him as she impressed +everybody. And he was quite observant enough to see the element of +matter-of-fact, half-jocular affection that bound them one to another; +he could not help seeing it, and it almost touched him. They were not a +sentimental assembly, upon the whole, but they were fond of each other +in a style peculiar to themselves, and ready to unite in any cause which +was the cause of the common weal. The family habit of taking existence +easily and regarding misfortunes from a serenely philosophical +standpoint, amused Ralph Gowan intensely. It had spiced Dolly's +conversation, and it spiced Phil's; indeed, it showed itself in more +than words. They had banded themselves against unavoidable tribulation, +and it could not fail to be beautifully patent to the far-seeing mind +that, taking all things together, tribulation had the worst of it. + +They were an artistic study, Ralph Gowan found, and so, in his character +of a “lily of the field,” he fell into the habit of studying them, as +an amusement at first, afterwards because his liking for them became +friendly and sincere. + +It was an easy matter to call again after the first visit,--people +always did call again at Bloomsbury Place, and Ralph Gowan was no +exception to the rule. He met Phil in the city, and sauntered home with +him to discuss art and look at his work; he invited him to first-class +little dinners, and introduced him to one or two men worth knowing; +in short, it was not long before the two were fond of each other in +undemonstrative man fashion. The studio was the sort of place Gowan +liked to drop into when time hung heavily on his hands, and consequently +hardly a week passed without his having at least once or twice dropped +into it to sit among the half dozen of Phil's fellow Bohemians, who were +also fond of dropping in as the young man sat at his easel, sometimes +furiously at work, sometimes tranquilly loitering over the finishing +touches of a picture. They were good-natured, jovial fellows, too, these +Bohemian visitors, though they were more frequently than not highly +scented with the odor of inferior tobacco, and rarely made an +ostentatious display in the matter of costume, or were conspicuously +faultless in the matter of linen; they failed to patronize the +hairdresser, and were prone to various convivialities, but they were +neither vicious nor vulgar, and they were singularly faithful to their +friendships for each other. They were all fond of Phil, and accordingly +fraternized at once with his new friend, adopting him into their circle +with the ease of manner and freedom of sentiment which seemed the +characteristic of their class; and they took to him all the more kindly +because, amateur though he was, he shared many of their enthusiasms. + +Of course he did not always see Dolly when he went. During every other +day of the week but Saturday she spent her time from nine in the morning +until five in the afternoon in the rather depressing atmosphere of +the Bilberry school-room. She vigorously assaulted the foundations of +Lindley Murray, and attacked the rules of arithmetic; she taught Phemie +French, and made despairing but continuous efforts at “finishing” her +in music. But poor Phemie was not easily “finished,” and hung somewhat +heavily upon the hands of her youthful instructress; still, she was +affectionate, if weak-minded, and so Dolly managed to retain her good +spirits. + +“I believe they are all fond of me in their way,” she said to +Griffith,--“all the children, I mean; and that is something to be +thankful for.” + +“They couldn't help being fond of you,” returned the young man. “Did any +human being ever know you without being fond of you?” + +“Yes,” said Dolly; “Lady Augusta knows me; and I do not think--no,” with +a cheerfully resigned shake of the head, which did not exactly express +deep regret or contrition, “I really do not think Lady Augusta is what +you might call overwhelmed with the strength of her attachment for me.” + +“Oh, Lady Augusta!” said Griffith. “Confound Lady Augusta!” + +Griffith was one of the very few people who did not like Ralph Gowan, +and perhaps charitably inclined persons will be half inclined to +excuse his weakness. It was rather trying, it must be admitted, for a +desponding young man rather under stress of weather, so to speak, to +find himself thrown into sharp contrast with an individual who had +sailed in smooth waters all his life, and to whom a ripple would have +been a by no means unpleasant excitement; it was rather chafing to +constantly encounter this favorite of fortune in the best of humors, +because he had nothing to irritate him; thoroughbred, unruffled, and +_débonnaire_ because he had nothing of pain or privation to face; +handsome, well dressed, and at ease, because his income and his tastes +balanced against each other accommodatingly. Human nature rose up +and battled in the Vagabondian breast; there were times when, for the +privilege of administering severe corporeal chastisement to Ralph +Gowan, Griffith would have sacrificed his modest salary with a Christian +fortitude and resignation beautiful to behold. To see him sitting in one +of the faded padded chairs, roused all his ire, and his consciousness of +his own weakness made the matter worse; to see him talking to Dolly, and +see her making brisk little jokes for his amusement, was worse still, +and drove him so frantic that more than once he had turned quite pale in +his secret frenzy of despair and jealousy, and had quite frightened the +girl, though he was wise enough to keep his secret to himself. It was +plain enough that Gowan admired Dolly, but other men had admired her +before; the sting of it was that this fellow, with his cool airs and +graces and tantalizing repose of manner, had no need to hold back if +he could win her. There would be no need for him to plan and pinch and +despair; no need for faltering over odd shillings and calculating odd +pence; _he_ could marry her in an hour if she cared for him, and he +could surround her with luxuries, and dress her like a queen, and make +her happy, as she deserved to be. And then the poor fellow's heart would +beat fiercely, and the very blood would tremble in his veins, at the +mere thought of giving her up. + +One night after they had been sitting together, and Gowan had just left +the room with Phil, Dolly glanced up from her work and saw her lover +looking at her with a face so pale and wretched that she was thrown into +a passion of fear. + +She tossed her work away in a second, and, making one of her little +rushes at him, was caught in his arms and half suffocated. She knew +the instant she caught sight of his face what he was suffering, though +perhaps she did not know the worst. + +“Oh, why will you?” she cried out, in tears, all at once. “It is cruel! +You are as pale as death, and I know--I know so well what it means.” + +“Tell me you will never forget what we have been to each other,” + he said, when he could speak; “tell me you don't care for that +fellow,--tell me you love me, Dolly, tell me you love me.” + +She did not hesitate a moment; she had never flirted with Griffith +in her life, and she knew him too well to try him when he wore that +desperate, feverish look of longing in his eyes. She burst into an +impetuous sob, and clung to him with both hands. + +“I love you with all my soul,” she said. “I will never _let_ you give +me up; and as to forgetting, I might die, but I could never forget. Care +for Ralph Gowan! I love _you_, Griffith, I love _you!_” + +“And you don't regret?” he said, piteously. “Oh, Dolly, just think of +what _he_ could give you; and then think of our hopeless dreams about +miserable six-roomed houses and cheap furniture.” + +“You will make me hate him,” cried Dolly, her gust of love and pity +making her fierce. “I don't want anything anybody could give me. I only +want you, _dear_ old fellow,--_darling_ old fellow,” holding him fast, +as if she would never let him go, and shedding a shower of impassioned, +tender tears. “Oh, my darling, only wait until I am your own wife, and +see how happy I will be, and how happy I will make you,--for I _can_ +make you happy,--and see how I will work in our little home for your +sake, and how content I will be with a little. Oh, what must I do to +show you how I love you! Do you think I could have cared for Ralph Gowan +all these years as I have cared for you? No indeed; but I shall care for +you forever, and I would wait for you a _thousand_ years if I might only +be your wife, and die in your arms at the end of it.” + +And she believed every word she said, too, and would have been willing +to lay down her young life to prove it, extravagant as it may all sound +to the discreet. And she quite believed, too, that she could never have +so loved any other man than this unlucky, jealous, tempestuous one; but +I will take the liberty of saying that this was a mistake, for, being +an impassioned, heart-ruled, unworldly young person, it is quite likely +that if Ralph Gowan had stood in Mr. Griffith Donne's not exactly +water-tight shoes, she would have clung to him quite as faithfully, and +believed in his perfections quite as implicitly, and quite as scornfully +would have depreciated the merits of his rival; but chance had arranged +the matter for her years before, and so Mr. Griffith was the hero. + +“Ralph Gowan!” she flung out. “What is Ralph Gowan, or any other man on +earth, to me? Did I love _him_ before I knew what love was, and scarcely +understood my own heart? Did I grow into a woman loving _him_ and +clinging to _him_ and dreaming about him? Have I ever had any troubles +in common with _him_? Did we grow up together, and tell each other all +our thoughts and help each other to bear things? Let him travel in the +East, if he likes,”--with high and rather inconsistent disdain,--“and +let him have ten thousand a year, if he will,--a hundred thousand +millions a year wouldn't buy me from you--my own!” In another burst, +“Let him ride in his carriage, if he chooses,”--rather, as if such +a course would imply the most degraded weakness; but, as I have said +before, she was illogical, if affectionate,--“let him ride in his +carriage. I would rather walk barefoot through the world with you +than ride in a hundred carriages, if every one of them was lined with +diamonds and studded with pearls.” + +There was the true flavor of Vagabondia's indiscretion and want of +forethought in this, I grant you; but such speeches as these were Dolly +Crewe's mode of comforting her lover in his dark moods; at least, she +was sincere,--and sincerity will excuse many touches of extravagance. +And as to Griffith, every touch of loving, foolish rhapsody dropped upon +his heart like dew from heaven, filling him with rapture and drawing him +nearer to her than before. + +“But,” he objected,--a rather weak objection, offered rather weakly, +because he was so full of renewed confidence and bliss,--“but he is a +handsomer fellow than I am, Dolly, and it must be confessed he has good +taste.” + +“Handsomer!” echoed Dolly. “What do I care about his beauty? He is n't +_you_,--that is where he fails to come up to the mark. And as to his +good taste, do you suppose for a second that I could ever admire the +most imposing 'get-up' by Poole, as I love this threadbare coat of +yours, that I have laid my cheek against for the last three years?” And +she bent down all at once and kissed the shabby sleeve. + +“No,” she said, looking up the next minute with her eyes as bright +as stars. “We have been _given_ to each other, that is it. It was n't +chance, it was something higher. We needed each other, and a higher +power than Fate bound us together, and it was a power that is n't cruel +enough to separate us now, after all these years have woven our lives in +one chord, and drawn our hearts close, and taught us how to comfort and +bear with each other. I was given to you because I could help to make +your life brighter,--and you were given to me because you could help to +brighten mine, and God will never part us so long as we are true.” + +The coat sleeve came into requisition again then, as it often did. Her +enthusiastic burst ended in a gush of heart-full tears, and she hid her +face on the coat sleeve until they were shed; Griffith in the mean time +touching her partly bent head caressingly with his hand, but remaining +silent because he could not trust himself to speak. + +But she became quieter at last, and got over it so far as to look up and +smile. + +“I could n't give up the six-roomed house and the green sofa, Griffith,” + she said. “They are like a great many other things,--the more I don't +get them the more I want them. And the long winter evenings we are to +spend together, when you are to read and I am to sew, and we are both to +be blissfully happy. I could n't give those up on any account. And how +could I bear to see Ralph Gowan, or any one else, seated in the orthodox +arm-chair?” + +The very idea of this latter calamity occurring crushed Griffith +completely. The long winter evenings they were to spend together were +such a pleasant legend. Scarcely a day passed without his drawing a +mental picture of the room which was to be their parlor, and of the +fireside Dolly was to adorn. It required only a slight effort of +imagination to picture her shining in the tiny room whose door closed +upon an outside world of struggling and an inside world of love and +hope and trust. He imagined Dolly under a variety of circumstances, +but nothing pleased and touched him so tenderly as this fireside +picture,--its ideal warmth and glow, and its poetic placing of Dolly +as his wife sitting near to him with her smiles and winsome ways +and looks--his own, at last, unshared by any outsiders. Giving that +long-cherished fancy up would have killed him, if he could have borne +all the rest. And while these two experienced the recorded fluctuations +of their romance in private, Ralph Gowan had followed Phil into the +studio. + +They found Mollie there on going into the room; and Mollie lying upon +the sofa asleep, with her brown head upon a big soft purple cushion, +was quite worthy a second glance. She had been rather overpowered in the +parlor by the presence of Ralph Gowan, and, knowing there was a fire +in the studio, and a couch drawn near it, she had retired there, and, +appropriating a pile of cushions, had dropped asleep, and lay there +curled up among them. + +Seeing her, Gowan found himself smiling faintly. Mollie amused him just +as she amused Dolly. It was so difficult a matter to assign her any +settled position in the world; She was taller than the other girls, +and far larger and more statuesque; indeed, there were moments when she +seemed to be almost imposing in presence, but this only rendered her +still more a charming incongruity. She might have carried herself like a +royal princess, but she blushed up to the tips of her ears at a glance, +and was otherwise as innocently awkward as a beauty may be. She was not +fond of strangers either, and generally lapsed into silence when spoken +to. Public admiration only disconcerted her, and made her pout, and the +unceremonious but friendly compliments of Phil's brethren in art were +her special grievance. + +“They stare at me, and stare at me, and stare at me,” she complained, +pettishly, to Dolly, “and some of them say things to me. I wish they +would attend to their pictures and leave me alone.” + +But she had never evinced any particular dislike to Ralph Gowan. She was +overpowered by a secret sense of his vast superiority to the generality +of mankind, but she rather admired him upon the whole. She liked to hear +him talk to Dolly, and she approved of his style. It was such a novel +sort of thing to meet with a man who was not shabby, and whose clothes +seemed made for him and were worn with a grace. He was handsome, too, +and witty and polite, and his cool, comfortable manner reminded her +vaguely of Dolly's own. So she used to sit and listen to the two as they +chatted, and in the end her guileless admiration of Dolly's eligible +Philistine became pretty thoroughly established. + +When the sound of advancing footsteps roused her from her nap she woke +with great tranquillity, and sat up rubbing her drowsy eyes serenely for +a minute or so before she discovered that Phil had a companion. But when +she did discover that such was the fact she blushed all over, and looked +up at Ralph Gowan in some naïve distress. + +“I did n't know any one was coming,” she said, “and I was so comfortable +that I fell asleep. It was the cushions, I think.” + +“I dare say it was,” answered Gowan, regarding her sleep-flushed cheeks +and exquisite eyes with the pleasure he always felt in any beauty, +animate or inanimate. “May I sit here, Mollie?” and then he looked at +her again and decided that he was quite right in speaking to her as he +would have spoken to a child, because she _was_ such a very child. + +“By me, on the sofa?” she answered. “Oh, yes.” + +“Are you going to talk business with Phil?” she asked him next, “or may +I stay here? Griffith and Dolly won't want me in the parlor, and I don't +want to go into the kitchen.” + +“I have no doubt you may stay here,” he said, quite seriously; “but why +won't they want you in the parlor?” + +“They never want anybody,” astutely. “I dare say they are making +love,--they generally are.” + +“Making love,” he repeated. “Ah, indeed!” and for the next few minutes +was so absorbed in thought that Mollie was quite forgotten. + +Making love were they,--this shabby, rather un-amiable young man and the +elder Miss Crewe? It sounded rather like nonsense to Ralph Gowan, but +it was not a pleasant sort of thing to think about. It is not to be +supposed that he himself was very desperately in love with Dolly just +yet, but it must be admitted he admired her decidedly. Beauty as Mollie +was, he scarcely gave her a glance when Dolly was in the room,--he +recognized the beauty, but it did not enslave him, it did not even +attract him as Dolly's imperfect charms did. And perhaps he had his own +ideas of what Dolly's love-making would be, of the spice and variety +which would form its characteristics, and of the little bursts of warmth +and affection that would render it delightful. It was not soothing +to think of all this being lavished on a shabby young man who was +not always urbane in demeanor and who stubbornly objected to being +propitiated by politeness. + +As was very natural, Mr. Ralph Gowan did not admire Mr. Griffith +Donne enthusiastically. In his visits to Bloomsbury Place, finding +an ill-dressed young man whose position in the household he could not +understand, he began by treating him with good-natured suavity, being +ready enough to make friends with him, as he had made friends with the +rest of Phil's compatriots. But influenced by objections to certain +things, Griffith was not to be treated suavely, but rather resented it. +There was no good reason for his resenting it, but resent it he did, +as openly as he could, without being an absolute savage and attracting +attention. The weakness of such a line of conduct is glaringly patent, +of course, to the well-regulated mind; but then Mr. Griffith Donne's +mind was not well-regulated, and he was, on the contrary, a very +hot-headed, undisciplined young man, and exceedingly sensitive to his +own misfortunes and shabbiness, and infatuated in his passion for the +object of his enemy's admiration. But Ralph Gowan could afford to be +tolerant; in the matter of position he was secure, he had never been +slighted or patronized in his life, and so had no shrinkings from such +an ordeal; he was not disturbed by any bitter pang of jealousy as yet, +and so, while he could not understand Griffith's restless anxiety to +resent his presence, could still tolerate it and keep cool. Yet, as +might be expected, he rather underrated his antagonist. Seeing him +only in this one unfavorable light, he regarded him simply as a rather +ill-bred, or, at least, aggressively inclined individual, whose temper +and tone of mind might reasonably be objected to. Once or twice he had +even felt his own blood rise at some implied ignoring of himself; but he +was far the more urbane and well-disposed of the two, yet whether he was +to be highly lauded for his forbearance, or whether, while lauding him, +it would not be as well to think as well as possible of his enemy, is a +matter for charity to decide. + +It had not occurred to him before that Griffith's frequent and +unceremonious visits implied anything very serious. There were so many +free-and-easy visitors at the house, and they all so plainly cultivated +Dolly, if they did not make actual love to her; and really outsiders +would hardly have been impressed with her deportment toward her +betrothed. She was not prone to exhibit her preference sentimentally in +public. So Ralph Gowan had been deceived,--and so he was deceived still. + +“This sort of fellow,” as he mentally put it with unconscious +high-handedness, was not the man to make such a woman happy, however +ready she was to bear with him. It was just such men as he was, who, +when the novelty of possession wore off, deteriorated into tyrannical, +irritable husbands, and were not too well bred in their manners. So he +became reflective and silent, when Mollie said that the two were “making +love.” + +But at last it occurred to him that even to Mollie his preoccupation +might appear singular, and he roused himself accordingly. + +“Making love!” he said again. “Blissful occupation! I wonder how they do +it. Do you know, Mollie?” + +Mollie looked at him with a freedom from scruples or embarrassment at +the conversation taking such a turn, which told its own story. + +“Yes,” she said. “They talk, you know, and say things to each other just +as other people do, and he kisses her sometimes. I know that,” with a +decided air, “because I have seen him do it.” + +“Cool enough, that, upon my word,” was her questioner's mental comment, +“and not unpleasant for Donne; but hardly significant of a fastidious +taste, if it is a public exhibition.” “Ah, indeed!” he said, aloud. + +“They have been engaged so long, you know,” volunteered Mollie. + +“Singularly enough, I did not know, Mollie,” he replied. “Are you sure +yourself?” + +“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her eyes. “I thought everybody knew +that. They have been engaged ever since they were ever so much younger. +Dolly was only fifteen, and Griffith was only eighteen, when they first +fell in love.” + +“And they have been engaged ever since?” said Gowan, his curiosity +getting decidedly the better of him. + +“Yes, and would have been married long ago, if Griffith could have got +into something; or if Old Flynn would have raised his salary. He has +only a hundred a year,” with unabashed frankness, “and, of course, they +couldn't be married on that, so they are obliged to wait. A hundred and +fifty would do, Dolly says,--but then, they have n't got a hundred and +fifty.” + +Ralph Gowan was meanly conscious of not being overpowered with regret +on hearing this latter statement of facts. And yet he was by no means +devoid of generous impulse. He was quite honest, however deeply he might +be mistaken, in deciding that it would be an unfortunate thing for Dolly +if she married Griffith Donne. He thought he was right, and certainly if +there had been no more good in his rival than he himself had seen on +the surface, he would not have been far wrong; but as it was he was +unconsciously very far wrong indeed. He ran into the almost excusable +extreme of condemning Griffith upon circumstantial evidence. Unfair +advantage had been taken of Dolly, he told himself. She had engaged +herself before she knew her own heart, and was true to her lover because +it was not in her nature to be false. Besides, what right has a man with +a hundred a year to bind any woman to the prospect of the life of narrow +economies and privations such an income would necessarily entail? +And forthwith his admiration of Dolly became touched with pity, +and increased fourfold. _She_ was unselfish, at least, whatever her +affianced might be. Poor little soul! (It is a circumstance worthy of +note, because illustrative of the blindness of human nature, that +at this very moment Miss Dorothea Crewe was enjoying her quiet +_tête-à-tête_ with her lover wondrously, and would not have changed +places with any young lady in the kingdom upon any consideration +whatever.) + +It is not at all to be wondered at that, in the absence of other +entertainment, Gowan drifted into a confidential chat with Mollie. She +was the sort of girl few people could have remained entirely indifferent +to. Her _naïveté_ was as novel as her beauty, and her weakness, so to +speak, was her strength. Gowan found it so at least, but still it must +be confessed that Dolly was the chief subject of their conversation. + +“You are very fond of your sister?” he said to the child. + +Mollie nodded. + +“Yes,” she said, “I am very fond of her. We are all very fond of her. +Dolly 's the clever one of the family, next to Phil. She is n't afraid +of anybody, and things don't upset her. I wish I was like her. You ought +to see her talk to Lady Augusta, I believe she is the only person in the +world Lady Augusta can't patronize, and she is always trying to snub her +just because she is so cool. But it never troubles Dolly. I have seen +her sit and smile and talk in her quiet way until Lady Augusta could do +nothing but sit still and stare at her as if she was choked, with her +bonnet strings actually trembling.” + +Gowan laughed. He could imagine the effect produced so well, and it was +so easy to picture Dolly smiling up in the face of her gaunt patroness, +and all the time favoring her with a shower of beautiful little stabs, +rendered pointed by the very essence of artfulness. He decided that upon +the whole Lady Augusta was somewhat to be pitied. + +“Dolly says,” proceeded Mollie, “that she would like to be a beauty; but +if I was like her I should n't care about being a beauty.” + +“Ah!” said Gowan, unable to resist the temptation to try with a fine +speech,--“ah! it is all very well for _you_ to talk about not caring to +be a beauty.” + +It did not occur to him for an instant that it was indiscreet to say +such a thing to her. He only meant it for a jest, and nine girls out +of ten even at sixteen would have understood his languid air of +grandiloquence in an instant. But Mollie at sixteen was extremely +liberal-minded, and almost Arcadian in her simplicity of thought and +demeanor. + +Her brown eyes flew wide open, and for a minute she stared at him with +mingled amazement and questioning. + +“Me!” she said, ignoring all given rules of propriety of speech. + +“Yes, you,” answered Gowan, smiling, and looking down at her amusedly. +“I have been paying you a compliment, Mollie.” + +“Oh!” said Mollie, bewilderment settling on her face. But the next +instant the blood rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes fell, and she moved +a little farther away from him. + +It was the first compliment she had received in all her life, and it was +the beginning of an era. + + + +CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + +“We are going,” Dolly to Ralph Gowan, “to have a family rejoicing, +and we should like you to join us. We are going to celebrate Mollie's +birthday.” + +“Thanks,” he answered, “I shall be delighted.” He had heard of these +family rejoicings before, and was really pleased with the idea of +attending one of them. They were strictly Vagabondian, which was one +recommendation, and they were entirely free from the Bilberry element, +which was another. They were not grand affairs, it is true, and set +etiquette and the rules of society at open defiance, but they were +cheerful, at least, and nobody attended them who had not previously +resolved upon enjoying himself and taking kindly to even the most +unexpected state of affairs. At Bloomsbury Place, Lady Augusta's “coffee +and conversation” became “conversation and coffee,” and the conversation +came as naturally as the coffee. People who had jokes to make made them, +and people who had not were exhilarated by the _bon-mots_ of the rest. + +“Mollie will be seventeen,” said Dolly, “and it is rather a trial to +me.” + +Gowan laughed. + +“Why?” he asked. + +She shook her head gravely. + +“In the first place,” she answered, “it makes me feel as if the dust of +ages was accumulating in my pathway, and in the second, it is not safe +for her.” + +“Why, again?” he demanded. + +“She is far too pretty, and her knowledge of the world is far too +limited. She secretly believes in Lord Burleigh, and clings to the +poetic memory of King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid.” + +“And you do not?” + +She held up her small forefinger and shook it at him. + +“If ever there was an artful little minx,” she said, “that Beggar-maid +was one. I never believed in her. I doubted her before I was twelve. +With her eyes cast down and her sly tricks! She did not cast them down +for nothing. She did it because she had long eyelashes, and it was +becoming. And it is my impression she knew more about the king than +she professed to. She had studied his character and found it weak. +Beggar-maid me no beggar-maids! She was as deep as she was handsome.” + +Of course he laughed again. Her air of severe worldly experience and +that small warning forefinger were irresistible. + +“But Mollie,” he said, “with all her belief in Cophetua, you think there +is not enough of the beggar-maid element in her character to sustain her +under like circumstances?” + +“If she met a Cophetua,” she answered, “she would open her great eyes +at his royal purple in positive delight, and if he caught her looking +at him she would blush furiously and pout a little, and be so ashamed of +her weakness that she would be ready to run away; but if he was artful +enough to manage her aright, she would believe every word he said, and +romance about him until her head was turned upside down. My fear is that +some false Cophetua will masquerade for her benefit some day. She would +never doubt his veracity, and if he asked her to run away with him I +believe she would enjoy the idea. We shall have to keep sharp watch upon +her.” + +“You never were so troubled about Aimée?” Gowan suggested. + +“Aimée!” she exclaimed. “Aimée has kept us all in order, and managed +our affairs for us ever since she wore Berlin wool boots and a coral +necklace. She regulated the household in her earliest years, and will +regulate it until she dies or somebody marries her, and what we are +to do then our lares and pénates only know. Aimée! Nobody ever had any +trouble with Aimée, and nobody ever will. Mollie is more like me, +you see,--shares my weaknesses and minor sins, and always sees her +indiscretions ten minutes too late for redemption. And then, since she +is the youngest, and has been the baby so long, we have not been in the +habit of regarding her as a responsible being exactly. It has struck +me once or twice that Bloomsbury Place hardly afforded wise training +to Mollie. Poor little soul!” And a faint shadow fell upon her face and +rested there for a moment. + +But it faded out again as her fits of gravity usually did, and in a +few minutes she was giving him such a description of Lady Augusta's +unexpected appearance upon a like occasion in time past, that he laughed +until the room echoed, and forgot everything else but the audacious +grotesqueness of her mimicry. + +It being agreed upon that Mollie's birthday was to be celebrated, +the whole household was plunged into preparations at once, though, of +course, they were preparations upon a small scale and of a strictly +private and domestic nature. Belinda, being promptly attacked with +inflammation of the throat, which was a chronic weakness of hers, was +rather inconveniently, but not at all to the surprise of her employers, +incapacitated from service, and accordingly Dolly's duties became varied +and multitudinous. + +Sudden inflammation on the part of Belinda was so unavoidable a +consequence of any approaching demand upon her services as to have +become proverbial, and the swelling of that young person's “tornsuls,” + as she termed them, was anticipated as might be anticipated the rising +of the sun. Not that it was Belinda's fault, however; Belinda's anxiety +to be useful amounted at all times to something very nearly approaching +a monomania; the fact simply was, that, her ailment being chronic, it +usually evinced itself at inopportune periods. “It's the luck of the +family,” said Phil. “We never loved a tree or flower, etc.” + +And so Belinda was accepted as an unavoidable inconvenience, and was +borne with cheerfully, accordingly. + +It was not expected of her that she should appear otherwise on the +eventful day than with the regulation roll of flannel about her neck. +Dolly did not expect it of her at least, so she was not surprised, on +entering the kitchen in the morning, to be accosted by her grimy young +handmaiden in the usual form of announcement:-- + +“Which, if yer please, miss, my tornsuls is swole most awful.” + +“Are they?” said Dolly. “Well, I am very sorry, Belinda. It can't be +helped, though; Mollie will have to run the errands and answer the +door-bell, and you must stay with me and keep out of the draught. +You can help a little, I dare say, if you are obliged to stay in the +kitchen.” + +“Yes, 'm,” said Belinda, and then sidling up to the dresser, and rubbing +her nose in an abasement of spirit, which resulted in divers startling +adornments of that already rather highly ornamented feature. “If yer +please, 'm,” she said, “I 'm very sorry, Miss Dolly. Seems like I ain't +never o' no use to yer?” + +“Yes, you are,” said Dolly, cheerily, “and you can't help the sore +throat, you know. You are a great deal of use to me sometimes. See how +you save my hands from being spoiled; they would n't be as white as they +are if I had to polish the grates and build the fires. Never mind, you +will be better in a day or so. Now for the cookery-book.” + +“I never seen no one like her,” muttered the delighted Sepoy, returning +to her vigorous cleaning of kettles and pans. “I never seen no one like +none on 'em, they 're that there good-natured an' easy on folk.” + +It was a busy day for Dolly, as well as for the rest of them, and there +was a by no means unpleasant excitement in the atmosphere of business. +The cookery, too, was a success, the game pâtés being a triumph, the +tarts beautiful to behold, and the rest of the culinary experiments so +marvellous, that Griffith, arriving early in the morning, and being +led down into the pantry to look at them as a preliminary ceremony, +professed to be struck dumb with admiration. + +“There,” said Dolly, backing up against the wall in her excitement, and +thrusting her hands very far into her apron pockets indeed,--“there! +what do you think of _that_, sir?” And she stood before him in a perfect +glow of triumph, her cheeks like roses, her sleeves rolled above +her dimpled elbows, her hair pushed on her forehead, and her general +appearance so deliciously business-like and agreeably professional +that the dusts of flour that were so prominent a feature in her costume +seemed only an additional charm. + +“Think of it?” said Griffith. “It is the most imposing display I ever +saw in my life. The trimmings upon those tarts are positively artistic. +You don't mean to say you did it all yourself?” + +“Yes,” regarding them critically,--“ev-er-y bit,” with a little nod for +every syllable. + +“Won-der-ful!” with an air of complimentary incredulity. “May I ask if +there is anything you can _not_ do?” + +“There is absolutely nothing,” sententiously. And then somehow or other +they were standing close together, as usual, his arm around her waist, +her hands clasped upon his sleeve. “When we get the house in Putney, or +Bayswater, or Peckham Eise, or whatever it is to be,” she said, laughing +in her most coaxing way, “this sort of thing will be convenient. And it +_is_ to come, you know,--the house, I mean.” + +“Yes,” admitted Griffith, with dubious cheerfulness, “it _is_ to +come,--some time or other.” + +But her cheerfulness was not of a dubious kind at all. She only laughed +again, and patted his arm with a charming air of proprietorship. + +“I have got something else to show you,” she said; “something up-stairs. +Can you guess what it is? Something for Mollie,--something she wanted +which is dreadfully extravagant.” + +“What!” exclaimed Griffith. “Not the maroon silk affair!” + +“Yes,” her doubt as to the wisdom of her course expressing itself in +a whimsical little grimace. “I could n't help it. It will make her so +happy; and I should so have liked it myself if I had been in her place.” + +She had been going to lead him up-stairs to show it to him as it lay in +state, locked up in the parlor, but all at once she changed her mind. + +“No,” she said; “I think you had better not see it until Mollie comes +down in state. It will look best then; so I won't spoil the effect by +letting you see it now.” + +Griffith had brought his offering, too,--not much of an offering, +perhaps, but worth a good deal when valued according to the affectionate +good-will it represented. “The girls” had a very warm corner in the +young man's tender heart, and the half-dozen pairs of gloves he produced +from the shades of an inconvenient pocket of his great-coat, held their +own modest significance. + +“Gloves,” he said, half apologetically, “always come in; and I believe I +heard Mollie complaining of hers the other day.” + +Certainly they were appreciated by the young lady in question, their +timely appearance disposing of a slight difficulty of addition to her +toilet. + +The maroon silk was to be a surprise; and surely, if ever surprise was a +success, this was. Taking into consideration the fact that she had spent +the earlier part of the day in plaintive efforts to remodel a dubious +garment into a form fitting to grace the occasion, it is not to be +wondered at that the sudden realization of one of her most hopelessly +vivid imaginings rather destroyed the perfect balance of her +equilibrium. + +She had almost completed her toilet when Dolly produced her treasure; +nothing, in fact, remained to be done but to don the dubious garment, +when Dolly, slipping out of the room, returned almost immediately with +something on her arm. + +“Never mind your old alpaca, Mollie,” she said. “I have something better +for you here.” + +Mollie turned round in some wonder to see what she meant, and the next +minute she turned red and pale with admiring amazement. + +“Dolly,” she said, rather unnecessarily, “it's a maroon silk.” And she +sat down with her hands clasped, and stared at it in the intensity of +her wonder. + +“Yes,” said Dolly, “it is a maroon silk, and you are to wear it +to-night. It is Phil's birthday present to you,--and mine.” + +The spell was broken at once. The girl got up and made an impulsive +rush at her, and, flinging her bare white arms out, caught her in a +tempestuous embrace, maroon silk and all, laughing and crying both +together. + +“Dolly,” she said,--“Dolly, it is the grandest thing I ever had in my +life, and you are the best two--you and Phil--that ever lived!” And not +being as eloquent by nature as she was grateful and affectionate, she +poured out the rest of her thanks in kisses and interjections. + +Then Dolly, extricating herself, proceeded to add the final touches +to the unfinished toilet, and in a very few minutes Miss Mollie stood +before the glass regarding herself in such ecstatic content as she had +perhaps never before experienced. + +“Who is going to be here, Dolly?” she asked, after taking her first +survey. + +“Who?” said Dolly. “Well, I scarcely know. Only one or two of Phil's +friends and Ralph Gowan.” + +Mollie gave a little start, and then blushed in the most pathetically +helpless way. + +“Ah!” she said, and looked at her reflection in the glass again, as if +she did not exactly know what else to do. + +A swift shadow of surprise showed itself in Dolly's eyes, and died out +almost at the same moment. + +“Are you ready?” she said, briefly. “If you are, we will go +down-stairs.” + +There was a simultaneous cry of admiration from them all when the two +entered the parlor below, and Miss Mollie appeared attired in all her +glory. + +“Here she is!” exclaimed 'Toinetté and Aimée, together. + +“Just the right shade,” was Phil's immediate comment. “Catches the +lights and throws out her coloring so finely. Turn round, Mollie.” + +And Mollie turned round obediently, a trifle abashed by her own +gorgeousness, and looking all the lovelier for her momentary abasement. + +Griffith was delighted. He went to her and kissed her, and praised her +with the enthusiastic frankness which characterized all his proceedings +with regard to the different members of the family of his betrothed. He +was as proud of the girl's beauty as if she were a sister of his own. + +Then the object of their mutual admiration knelt down upon the +hearth-rug, before Tod, who, attired in ephemeral splendor, had stopped +in his tour across the room to stare up with bright baby wonder at the +novelty of warm, rich color which had caught his fancy. + +“I must kiss Tod,” she said; no ceremony was ever considered complete, +and no occasion perfect, unless Tod had been kissed, and so taken into +the general confidence. “Tod, come and be kissed.” + +But, being a young gentleman of by no means effusive nature, Tod +preferred to remain stationary, holding to the toe of his red shoe +and gazing upward with an expression of approbation and indifference +commingled, which delighted his feminine admirers beyond expression. + +“He knows it is something new,” said 'Toinette. “See how he looks at +it.” Whereupon, of course, there was a chorus of delighted acquiescence, +and Aunt Dolly must needs go down upon the hearthrug, too. + +“Has Aunt Mollie got a grand new dress on, Beauty?” she said, glowing +with such pretty, womanly adoration of this atom of all-ruling baby-dom, +as made her seem the very cream and essence of lovableness and sweet +nonsense. And then, Master Tod, still remaining unmoved by adulation, +and still regarding his small circle of tender sycophants with round, +liquid, baby eyes serene, and dewy red lips apart, was so effective +in this one of his many entrancing moods, that he was no longer to be +resisted, and so was caught up and embraced with ecstasy. + +“He notices everything,” cries Aunt Dolly; “and I 'm sure he understands +every word he hears. He is _so_ different from other babies.” + +Different! Of course he was different. There was not one of them but +indignantly scouted at the idea of there ever having before existed such +a combination of infantile gifts and graces. The most obtuse of people +could not fail to acknowledge his vast superiority, in spite of their +obtuseness. + +“But,” remarked Aimée, with discretion, “you had better stand up, +Mollie, or you will crush your front breadths.” + +Mollie, with a saving recollection of front breadths, arose, and as it +chanced just in time to turn toward the door as Ralph Gowan came in. + +He was looking his best to-night,--that enviable, thorough-bred best, +which was the natural result of culture, money, and ease; and Dolly, +catching sight of Mollie's guileless blushes, deplored, while she did +not wonder at them, understanding her as she did. It was just like the +child to blush, feeling herself the centre of observation, but she +could not help wishing that her blush had not been quite so quick and +sensitive. + +But if she had flushed when he entered, she flushed far more when he +came to speak to her. He held in his hand a bouquet of flowers,--white +camellia buds and bloom, and dark, shadowy green; a whim of his own, he +said. + +“I heard about the maroon dress,” he added, when he had given it to her, +“and my choice of your flowers was guided accordingly. White camellias, +worn with maroon sik, are artistic, Mollie, your brother will tell you.” + +“They are very pretty,” said Mollie, looking down at them in grateful +confusion; “and I am much obliged. Thank you, Mr. Gowan.” + +“A great many good wishes go with them,” he said, good-naturedly. “If +I were an enchanter, you should never grow any older from this day +forward.” And his speech was something more than an idle compliment. +There was something touching to him, too, in the fact of the child's +leaving her childhood behind her, and confronting so ignorantly +the unconscious dawn of a womanhood which might hold so much of the +bitterness of knowledge. + +But, of course, Mollie did not understand this. + +“Why?” she asked him, forgetting her camellias, in her wonder at his +fancy. + +“Why?” said he. “Because seventeen is such a charming age, Mollie; and +it would be well for so many of us if we did not outlive its faith and +freshness.” + +He crossed over to Dolly then, and made his well-turned speech of +friendly greeting to her also, but his most ordinary speech to her had +its own subtle warmth. He was growing very fond of Dolly Crewe. But +Dolly was a trifle preoccupied; she was looking almost anxiously at +Mollie and the camellias. + +“He has been paying her a compliment or she would not look so fluttered +and happy,” she was saying to herself. “I wish he wouldn't. It may +please him, but it is dangerous work for Mollie.” + +And when she raised her eyes to meet Ralph Gowan's, he saw that there +was the ghost of a regretful shadow in them. + +She had too much to do, however, to be troubled long. Phil's friends +began to drop in, one by one, and the business of the evening occupied +her attention. There was coffee to be handed round, and she stood at +a side-table and poured it out herself into quaint cups of old china, +which were a relic of former grandeur; and as she moved to and fro, +bringing one of these cups to one, or a plate of fantastic little cakes +to another, and flavoring the whole repast with her running fire of +spicy speeches, Gowan found himself following her with his eyes and +rather extravagantly comparing her to ambrosia-bearing Hebe, at the same +time thinking that in Vagabondia these tilings were better done than +elsewhere. + +The most _outré_ of Phil's hirsute and carelessly garbed +fellow-Bohemians somehow or other seemed neither vulgar nor ill at ease. +They evidently felt at home, and admired faithfully and with complete +unison the feminine members of their friend's family; and their +readiness to catch at the bright or grotesque side of any situation +evinced itself in a manner worthy of imitation. Then, too, there was +Tod, taking excursionary rambles about the carpet, and, far from being +in the way, rendering himself an innocent centre of attraction. Brown +cracked jokes with him, Jones bribed him with cake to the performance +of before-unheard-of feats, and one muscular, fiercely mustached and +bearded young man, whose artistic forte was battle-pieces of the most +sanguinary description, appropriated him bodily and set him on his +shoulder, greatly to the detriment of his paper collar. + +“The spirit of Vagabondia is strong in Tod,” said Dolly, who at the time +was standing near Gowan upon the hearth-rug, with her own coffee-cup in +hand; “its manifestation being his readiness to accommodate himself to +circumstances.” + +Through the whole of the evening Mollie and the camellias shone forth +with resplendence. Those of Phil's masculine friends who had known her +since her babyhood felt instinctively that to-night the Rubicon had +been passed. Unconscious as she was of herself, she was imposing in the +maroon silk, and these free-and-easy, good-natured fellows were the very +men to be keenly alive to any subtle power of womanhood. So when they +addressed her their manner was a trifle subdued, and their deportment +toward her had a faint savor of delicate reverence. + +Dolly was in her element. Her songs, her little supper, and her plans +of entertainment were a perfect success. Such jokes as she made and such +laughter as she managed to elicit through the medium of the smallest +of them, and such aptness and tact as she displayed in keeping up +the general fusillade of _bon-mots_ and repartee. It would have been +impossible for a witticism to fall short of its mark under her active +superintendence, even if witticisms had been prone to fall short in +Vagabondia, which they decidedly were not. She kept Griffith busy, too, +from first to last, perhaps because she felt it to be the safest plan; +at any rate, she held him near her, and managed to keep him in the best +of spirits all the evening, and more than once Gowan, catching a +glimpse of her as she addressed some simple remark to the favored one, +recognized a certain bright softness in her face which told its own +story. But there would have been little use in openly displaying his +discomfiture; so, after feeling irritated for a moment or so, Ralph +Gowan allowed himself to drift into attendance on Mollie, and, being +almost gratefully received by that young lady, he did not find that the +time passed slowly. + +“I am so glad you came here.” she said to him, plaintively, when he +first crossed the room to her side. “I do so hate Brown.” + +“Brown!” he echoed. “Who _is_ Brown, Mollie? and what has Brown been +doing to incur your resentment?” + +Mollie gave her shoulders a petulant shrug. + +“Brown is that little man in the big coat,” she said, “the one who went +away when you came. I wish he would stay away. I can't bear him,” with +delightful candor. + +“But why?” persisted Gowan, casting a glance at the side of the room +where Dolly stood talking to her lover. “Is it because his coat is so +big, or because he is so little, that he is so objectionable? To be at +once moral and instructive, Mollie, a man is not to be judged by his +coat.” + +“I know that,” returned Mollie, her unconscious innocence asserting +itself; “it is n't that. _You_ couldn't be as disagreeable as he is if +you were dressed in rags.” + +Gowan turned quickly to look at her, forgetting even Dolly for the +instant,--but she was quite in earnest, and met his questioning eyes +with the most pathetic ignorance of having said anything extraordinary. +Indeed, her faith in what she had said was so patent that he found it +impossible to answer her with a light or jesting speech. + +“It is n't that,” she went on, pulling at a glossy green leaf on her +bouquet. “If he did n't--if he would n't--if he didn't keep saying +things--” + +“What sort of things?” asked Gowan, to help her out of her dilemma. + +“I--don't know,” was the shy reply. “Stupid things.” + +“Stupid things!” he repeated. “Poor Brown!” and his eyes wandered to +Dolly again. + +But it would not have been natural if he had not been attracted by +Mollie, after all, and in the course of time in a measure consoled +by her. She was so glad to be protected from the advances of the much +despised Brown, that he found it rather pleasant than otherwise to +constitute himself her body-guard,--to talk to her as they sat, and +to be her partner in the stray dances which accidentally enlivened the +evening entertainment. She danced well, too, he discovered, and with +such evident enjoyment of her own smooth, swaying movements as was quite +magnetic, and made him half reluctant to release her when their first +waltz was ended, and she stopped all aflush with new bloom. + +“I am _so_ fond of dancing,” she said, catching her breath in a little +sigh of ecstasy. “We all are. It is one of the things we _can_ do +without spending any money, you know.” + +It was shortly after this, just as they were standing in twos and +threes, chatting and refreshing themselves with Dolly's confections +and iced lemonade, that an entirely unexpected advent occurred. There +suddenly fell upon the general ear a sound as of rolling wheels, and a +carriage stopped before the door. + +Dolly, standing in the midst of a small circle of her own, paused in her +remarks to listen. + +“It is a carriage, that is certain,” she said,--“and somebody is getting +out. I don't know “--and then a light breaking over her face in a +flash of horror and delight in the situation commingled. “Phil,” she +exclaimed, “the Philistines be upon us,--it is Lady Augusta!” + +And it was. In two minutes that majestic lady was ushered in by the +excited Belinda, and announced in the following rather remarkable +manner,-- + +“If yer please, Miss Dolly, here's your aunt, Mr. Phil.” + +For a second her ladyship was speechless, even though Dolly advanced to +meet her at once. The festive gathering was too much for her, and the +sight of Ralph Gowan leaning over Mollie in all her bravery, holding +her flowers for her, and appearing so evidently at home, overpowered her +completely. But she recovered herself at length. + +“I was not aware,” she said to Dolly, “that you were having a”--pause +for a word sufficiently significant--“that you were holding a +reception,”--a scathing glance at the pensive Brown, who was at once +annihilated. “You will possibly excuse my involuntary intrusion. I +thought, of _course_” (emphasis), “that I should find you alone, and +as I had something to say to you concerning Euphemia, I decided to +call tonight on my way from the conversazione at Dr. Bugby's,--perhaps, +Dorothea, your friends” (emphasis again) “will excuse you for a moment, +and you will take me into another room,”--this last as if she had +suddenly found herself in a fever hospital and was rather afraid of +contagion. + +But apart from Mollie, who pouted and flushed, and was extremely +uncomfortable, nobody seemed to be either chilled or overwhelmed. Phil's +greeting was so cordial and unmoved that her ladyship could only proffer +him the tips of her fingers in imposing silence, and Dolly's air +of placid good-humor was so perfect that it was as good as a modest +theatrical entertainment. + +She led her visitor out of the room with a most untroubled countenance, +after her ladyship had honored Gowan with a word or so, kindly +signifying her intense surprise at meeting him in the house, and rather +intimating, delicately, that she could not comprehend his extraordinary +conduct, and hoped he would not live to regret it. + +The interview was not a long one, however. In about ten minutes the +carriage rolled away, and Dolly came back to the parlor with a touch of +new color on her cheek, and a dying-out spark of fire in her eye; and +though her spirits did not seem to have failed her, she was certainly a +trifle moved by something. + +“Let us have another waltz.” she said, rather as if she wished to +dismiss Lady Augusta from the carpet “I will play this time. Phil, find +a partner.” + +She sat down to the piano at once, and swept off into one of Phil's +own compositions, and from that time till the end of the evening she +scarcely gave them a moment's pause, and was herself so full of sparkle +and resources that she quite enraptured Gowan, and made the shabby room +and the queer life seem more novel and entrancing than ever. + +But when the guests were gone, and only Griffith, who was always last, +remained with Phil and the girls, grouped about the fire, the light died +out of her mood, and she looked just a trifle anxious and tired. + +“Girls,” she said, “I have some bad news to tell you,--at least some +news that isn't exactly good. Lady Augusta has given me what Belinda +would call 'a warning.' I visit the select precincts of Bilberry House +as governess no more.” + +There is no denying it was a blow to them all. Her salary had been +a very necessary part of the family income, and if they had been +straitened with it, certainly there would be a struggle without it. + +“Oh!” cried Mollie, remorsefully. “And you have just spent nearly all +you had on my dress. And you do so want things yourself, Dolly. What +shall you do?” + +“Begin to take in the daily papers and peruse the advertising column,” + she answered, courageously. “Never mind, it will all come right before +long, and we can keep up our spirits until then.” + +But, despite her assumed good spirits, when she went to see Griffith +out of the front door, she held to his arm with a significantly clinging +touch, and was so silent for a moment that he stooped in the dark to +kiss her, and found her cheek wet with tears. + +It quite upset him, too, poor fellow! Dolly crying and daunted was a +state of affairs fraught with anguish to him. + +“Why, Dolly!” he exclaimed, tremulously. “Dolly, you are crying!” + +And then she did give way, and for a minute or so quite needed the +shelter and rest of his arms. She cared for no other shelter or rest; +he was quite enough for her in her brightest or darkest day,--just +this impecunious young man, whose prospects were so limited, but whose +affection for her was so wholly without limit. She might be daunted, +but she could not remain long uncomforted while her love and trust were +still unchanged. Ah! there was a vast amount of magic in the simple, +silent pressure of the arm within that shabby coat-sleeve. + +So, as might be expected, she managed to recover herself before many +minutes, and receive his tender condolences with renewed spirit; and +when she bade him good-night she was almost herself again, and was +laughing, even though her eyelashes were wet. + +“No,” she said, “we are _not_ going to destruction, Lady Augusta to the +contrary, and the family luck must assert itself some time, since it has +kept itself so long in the background. And in the mean time--well,” with +a little parting wave of her hand, “Vagabondia to the rescue!” + + + +CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” + +THEEE was much diligent searching of the advertising columns of the +daily papers for several weeks after this. Advertisements, in fact, +became the staple literature, and Dolly's zeal in the perusal of them +was only to be equalled by her readiness to snatch at the opportunities +they presented. No weather was too grewsome for her to confront, and no +representation too unpromising for her to be allured by. In the morning +she was at Bayswater calling upon the chilling mother of six (four +of them boys) whose moral nature needed judicious attention, and who +required to be taught the rudiments of French, German, and Latin; in the +afternoon she was at the general post-office applying to Q. Y. Z., who +had the education of two interesting orphans to negotiate for, and who +was naturally desirous of doing it as economically as possible; and at +night she was at home, writing modest, business-like epistles to every +letter in the alphabet in every conceivable or inconceivable part of the +country. + +“If I had only been born 'a stout youth,' or 'a likely young man,' or +'a respectable middle-aged person,' I should have been 'wanted' a dozen +times a day,” she would remark; “but as it is, I suppose I I must wait +until something 'presents itself,' as the Rev. Marmaduke puts it.” + +And in defiance of various discouraging and dispiriting influences, she +waited with a tolerable degree of tranquillity until, in the course of +time, her patience was rewarded. Sitting by the fire one morning with +Tod and a newspaper, her eye was caught by an advertisement which, +though it did not hold out any extra inducements, still attracted her +attention, so she read it aloud to Aimée and 'Toinette. + +“Wanted, a young person to act as companion to an elderly lady. Apply at +the printers.” + +“There, Aimée,” she commented, “there is another. I suppose I might +call myself 'a young person,' Don't you think I had better 'apply at the +printer's'?” + +“They don't mention terms,” said Aimée. + +“You would have to leave home,” said 'Toinette. + +Dolly folded up the paper and tossed it on to the table with a half +sigh. She had thought of that the moment she read the paragraph, and +then, very naturally, she had thought of Griffith. It would not be +feasible to include him in her arrangements, even if she made any. +Elderly ladies who engage “young persons” as companions were not in +the habit of taking kindly to miscellaneous young men, consequently the +prospect was not a very bright one. + +There would only be letter-writing left to them, and letters seemed such +cold comfort contrasted with every-day meetings. She remembered, too, +a certain six months she had spent with her Bilberry charges in +Switzerland, when Griffith had nearly been driven frantic by her absence +and his restless dissatisfaction, and when their letters had only seemed +new aids to troublous though unintentional games at cross-purposes. +There might be just the same thing to undergo again, but, then, how +was it to be avoided? It was impossible to remain idle just at this +juncture. + +“So it cannot be helped,” she said, aloud. “I must take it if I can +get it, and I must stay in it until I can find something more pleasant, +though I cannot help wishing that matters did not look so unpromising. +Tod, you will have to go down, Aunt Dolly is going to put on her hat and +present herself at the printer's in the character of a young person in +search of an elderly lady.” + +Delays were dangerous, she had been taught by experience, so she ran +up-stairs at once for her out-door attire, and came down in a few +minutes, drawing on her gloves and looking a trifle ruefully at them. + +“They are getting discouragingly white at the seams,” she said, “and it +seems almost impossible to keep them sewed up. I shall have to borrow +Aimée's muff. What a blessing it is that the weather is so cold!” + +At the bottom of the staircase she met Mollie. + +“Phemie is in the parlor, Dolly,” she announced, “and she wants to see +you. I don't believe Lady Augusta knows she is here, either, she looks +so dreadfully fluttered.” + +And when she entered the room, surely enough Phemie jumped up with a +nervous bound from a chair immediately behind the door, and, dropping +her muff and umbrella and two or three other small articles, caught her +in a tremulous embrace, and at once proceeded to bedew her with tears. + +“Oh, Dolly!” she lamented, pathetically; “I have come to say good-by; +and, oh! what shall I do without you?” + +“Good-by!” said Dolly. “Why, Phemie?” + +“Switzerland!” sobbed Phemie. “The--the select seminary at Geneva, +Dolly, where th-that professor of m-music with the lumpy face was.” + +“Dear me!” Dolly ejaculated. “You don't mean to say you are going there, +Phemie?” + +“Yes, I do,” answered Euphemia. “Next week, too. And, oh dear, Dolly!” + trying to recover her handkerchief, “if it had been anywhere else +I could have borne it, but that,” resignedly, “was the reason mamma +settled on it. She found out how I _loathed_ the very thought of it, +and then she decided immediately. And don't you remember those mournful +girls, Dolly, who used to walk out like a funeral procession, and how +we used to make fun--at least, how you used to make fun of the lady +principal's best bonnet?” + +It will be observed by this that Miss Dorothea Crewe's intercourse with +her pupils had not been as strictly in accordance with her position as +instructress as it had been friendly. She had even gone so far as to set +decorum at defiance, by being at once entertaining and jocular, though +to her credit it must be said that she had worked hard enough for +her modest salary, and had not neglected even the most trivial of her +numerous duties. + +She began to console poor Euphemia to the best of her ability, but +Euphemia refused to be comforted. + +“I shall have to take lessons from that lumpy professor, Dolly,” she +said. “And you know how I used to hate him when he _would_ make love to +you. And that was mamma's fault, too, because she would patronize him +and call him 'a worthy person.' He was the only man who admired you I +ever knew her to encourage, and she would n't have encouraged him if he +had n't been so detestable.” + +It was very evident that the eldest Miss Bilberry was in a highly +rebellious and desperate state of mind. Dolly's daily visits, +educational though they were, had been the brightest gleams of sunlight +in her sternly regulated existence. No one had ever dared to joke in the +Bilberry mansion but Dolly, and no one but Dolly, had ever made the clan +gatherings bearable to Euphemia; and now that Dolly was cut off +from them all, and there were to be no more jokes and no more small +adventures, life seemed a desert indeed. And then with the calamitous +prospect of Switzerland and the lumpy professor before her, Phemie was +crushed indeed. + +“Mamma doesn't know I came,” she confessed, tearfully, at last; “but +I could n't help it, Dolly, I could n't go away without asking you to +write to me and to let me write to you. You will write to me, won't +you?” + +Dolly promised at once, feeling a trifle affected herself. She had +always been fond of Phemie, and inclined to sympathize with her, and now +she exerted herself to her utmost to cheer her. She persuaded her to +sit down, and after picking up the muff and umbrella and parcels, took +a seat by her, and managed to induce her to dry her tears and enter into +particulars. + +“It will never do for Lady Augusta to see that you have been crying,” + she said. “Dry your eyes, and tell me all about it, and--wait a minute, +I have a box of chocolates here, and I know you like chocolates.” + +It was a childish consolation, perhaps, but Dolly knew what she +was doing and whom she was dealing with, and this comforting with +confections was not without its kindly girlish tact. Chocolates were one +of Phemie's numerous school-girl weaknesses, and a weakness so rarely +indulged in that she perceptibly brightened when her friend produced the +gay-colored, much-gilded box. And thus stimulated, she poured forth her +sorrows with more coherence and calmness. She was to go to Switzerland, +that was settled, and the others were to be placed in various other +highly select educational establishments. They were becoming too old +now, Lady Augusta had decided, to remain under Dolly's care. + +“And then,” added Euphemia, half timidly, “you won't be vexed if I tell +you, will you?” + +“Certainly not,” answered Dolly, who knew very well what was coming, +though poor Phemie evidently thought she was going to impart an +extremely novel and unexpected piece of intelligence. “What is it, +Phemie?” + +“Well, somehow or other, I don't believe mamma exactly likes you, +Dolly.” + +Now, considering circumstances, this innocent speech amounted to a rich +sort of thing to say, but Dolly did not laugh; she might caricature Lady +Augusta for the benefit of her own select circle of friends, but she +never made jokes about her before Phemie, however sorely she might be +tempted. So, now she helped herself to a chocolate with perfect sobriety +of demeanor. + +“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “I have thought so myself, Phemie.” And +then, as soon as possible, changed the subject. + +At length Phemie rose to go. As Lady Augusta was under the impression +that she was merely taking the dismal daily constitutional, which was +one of her unavoidable penances, it would not do to stay too long. + +“So I _must_ go,” lamented Phemie; “but, Dolly, if you would n't mind, I +should _so_ like to see the baby. I have never seen him since the day we +called with mamma,--and I am so fond of babies, and he was so pretty.” + +Dolly laughed, in spite of herself. She remembered the visit so well, +and Lady Augusta's loftily resigned air of discovering, in the passively +degenerate new arrival, the culminating point of the family depravity. + +“It is much to be regretted,” she had said, disapprovingly; “but it is +exactly what I foresaw from the first, and you will have to make the +best of it.” + +And then, on Dolly's modestly suggesting that they intended to do so, +and were not altogether borne down to the earth by the heavy nature of +their calamity, she had openly shuddered. + +But Phemie had quite clung to the small bundle of lawn and flannel, and +though she had never seen Tod since, she had by no means forgotten him. + +“He will be quite a big boy when I come back,” she added. “And I should +so like to see him once again while he is a baby.” + +“Oh, you shall see him,” said Dolly. “Tod is the one individual in this +house who always feels himself prepared to receive visitors. He is n't +fastidious about his personal appearance. If you will come into the next +room, I dare say we shall find him.” + +And they did find him. Being desirous of employing, to the greatest +advantage, the time spent in his retirement within the bosom of his +family, he was concentrating his energies upon the mastication of the +toe of his slipper, upon which task he was bestowing the strictest and +most undivided attention, as he sat in the centre of the hearth-rug. + +“He has got another tooth, Aunt Dolly,” announced 'Toinette, +triumphantly, as soon as the greetings were over. “Show Aunt Dolly his +tooth.” And, being laid upon his back on the maternal knee, in the most +uncomfortable and objectionable of positions, the tooth was exhibited, +as a matter calling forth public rejoicings. + +Phemie knelt on the carpet before him, the humblest of his devotees. + +“He is prettier than ever,” she said. “Do you think he would come to me, +Mrs. Crewe?” + +And, though the object of her admiration at once asserted his +prerogatives by openly rejecting her overtures with scorn, she rejoiced +over him as ecstatically as if he had shown himself the most amiable of +infant prodigies, which he most emphatically had not, probably having +been rendered irascible by the rash and inconsiderately displayed +interest in his dental developments. Whatever more exacting people might +have thought, Phemie was quite satisfied. + +“I wish I was in your place, Dolly,” she said, as she was going away. +“You seem so happy together here, somehow or other. Oh, dear! You don't +know how dreadful our house seems by contrast. If things _would_ break +or upset, or look a little untidy,--or if mamma's caps and dresses just +would n't look so solid and heavy--” + +“Ah!” laughed Dolly, “you have n't seen our worst side, Phemie,--the +shabby side, which means worn shoes and old dresses and bills. We don't +get our whistle for nothing in Vagabondia, though, to be sure,”--and +I won't say a memory of the shabby coat-sleeve did not suggest the +amendment,--“I don't think we pay too dearly for it; and I believe there +is not one of us who would not rather pay for it than live without it.” + +And when she gave the girl her farewell kiss, it was a very warm one, +with a touch of pity in it. It was impossible for her to help feeling +sympathy for any one who was without the Griffith element in existence. + +After this she went out herself to apply at the printer's, and was sent +from there to Brabazon Lodge, which was a suburban establishment, in a +chilly aristocratic quarter. An imposing edifice, Brabazon Lodge, built +of stone, and most uncompromisingly devoid of superfluous ornament. +No mock minarets or unstable towers at Brabazon Lodge,--a substantial +mansion in a substantial garden behind substantial iron gates, and so +solid in its appointments that it was quite a task for Dolly to raise +the substantial lion's head which formed the front-door knocker. + +“Wanted, a young person,” she was saying to herself, meekly, when her +summons was answered by a man-servant, and she barely escaped announcing +herself as “the young person, sir.” + +Once inside the house, she was not kept waiting. She was ushered into a +well-appointed side-room, where a bright fire burned in the grate. The +man retired to make known her arrival to his mistress, and Dolly settled +herself in a chair by the hearth. + +“I wonder how many 'young persons' have been sent away sorrowing this +morning,” she said, “and I wonder how Griffith will like the idea of my +filling the position of companion to an elderly lady, or any other order +of lady, for the matter of that? Poor old fellow!” and she gave vent to +an unmistakable sigh. + +But the appearance of the elderly lady put an end to her regrets. The +door opened and she entered, and Dolly rose to receive her. The next +instant, however, she gave a little start. She had seen the elderly lady +before, and confronting her now recognized her at once,--Miss Berenice +MacDowlas. And that Miss MacDowlas recognized her also was quite +evident, for she advanced with the air of one who was not at all at a +loss. + +“How do you do?” she remarked, succinctly, and gave Dolly her hand. + +That young person took it modestly. + +“I believe I have had the pleasure--” she was beginning, when Miss +MacDowlas interrupted her. + +“You met me at the Bilberrys',” she said. “I remember seeing you very +well. You are Dorothea Crewe.” + +Dolly bowed in her most insinuatingly graceful manner. + +“Take a seat,” said Miss MacDowlas. + +Dolly did so at once. + +Miss MacDowlas looked at her with the air of an elderly lady who was not +displeased. + +“I remember you very well,” she repeated. “You were governess there. Why +did you leave?” + +Dolly did not know very definitely, and told her so. + +The notice given her had been unexpected. Lady Augusta had said it was +because her pupils were old enough to be sent from home. + +“Oh!” said Miss MacDowlas, and looked at her again from her hat to her +shoes. + +“You are fond of reading?” she asked next + +“Yes,” answered Dolly. + +“You read French well?” + +“Yes,” said Dolly. She knew she need not hesitate to say that, at least. + +“You are good company and are fond of society?” + +“I am fond of society,” said Dolly, “and I hope I am 'good company,'” + +“You don't easily lose patience?” + +“It depends upon circumstances,” said Dolly. + +“You can play and sing?” + +“I did both the night I met you,” returned the young person. + +“So you did,” said Miss MacDowlas, and examined her again. + +It was rather an odd interview, upon the whole, but it did not end +unfortunately. Miss MacDowlas wanted a companion who was quick-witted +and amusing, and, having seen that Dolly was both on the evening of the +Bilberry clan gathering, she had taken a fancy to her. So after a little +sharp questioning, she announced her decision. She would employ her to +fill the vacant situation at the same rate of salary she had enjoyed +in her position of governess to the youthful Bilberrys, and she would +employ her at once. + +“I want somebody to amuse me,” she said, “and I think you can do it. +I am often an invalid, and my medical man says the society of a young +person will benefit me.” + +So it was settled that the following week Dolly should take up her abode +at Brabazon Lodge and enter upon the fulfilment of her duties. She +was to read, play, sing, assist in the entertainment of visitors, and +otherwise make herself generally useful, and, above all, she was to be +amusing. + +She left the house and proceeded homeward in a peculiar frame of mind. +She could have laughed, but she was compelled to admit to herself that +she could also have cried with equal readiness. She had met with an +adventure indeed. She was a young person at large no longer; henceforth +she was the property of the elderly dragon she had so often laughed at +with Griffith. And yet the dragon had not been so objectionable, after +all. She had been abrupt and unceremonious, but she had been better than +Lady Augusta, and she had not shown herself illiberal. But there would +be no more daily visits from Griffith, no more _téte-à-tétes_ in the +shabby parlor, no more sitting by the fire when the rest had left the +room, no more tender and inconsistently long farewells at the front +door. It was not pleasant to think about. She found herself catching her +breath quickly, with a sound like a little sob. + +“He will miss it awfully,” she said to herself, holding her muff closely +with her small, cold hands, and shutting her eyes to work away a tear; +“but he won't miss it more than I shall. He might live without me +perhaps, but I could n't live without him. I wonder if ever two people +cared for each other as we do before? And I wonder if the time will ever +come--” And there she broke off again, and ended as she so often did. +“Poor old fellow!” she said. “Poor, dear, patient, faithful fellow! how +I love you!” + +She hurried on briskly after this, but she was wondering all the +time what he would say when he found out that they were really to be +separated. He would rebel, she knew, and anathematize fate vehemently. +But she knew the rest of them would regard it as rather a rich joke that +chance should have thrown her into the hands of Miss MacDowlas. They had +all so often laughed at Griffith's descriptions of her and her letters, +given generally when he had been galled into a caustic mood by the +arrival of one of the latter. + +Beaching Bloomsbury Place, Dolly found her lover there. He had dropped +in on his way to his lodgings, and was awaiting her in a fever of +expectation, having heard the news from Aimée. + +“What is this Aimée has been telling me?” he cried, the moment she +entered the room. “You can't be in earnest, Doll! You can't leave home +altogether, you know.” + +She tossed her muff on the table and sat down on one of the low chairs, +with her feet on the fender. + +“I thought so until this morning,” she said, a trifle mournfully; “but +it can't be helped. The fact is, it is all settled now. I am an engaged +young person.” + +“Settled!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “Engaged! Dolly, I did n't +think you would have done it.” + +“I could n't help doing it,” said Dolly, her spirits by no means rising +as she spoke. “How could I?” + +But he would not be consoled by any such cold comfort. He had regarded +the possibility of her leaving the house altogether as something not +likely to be thought of. Very naturally, he was of the opinion that +Dolly was as absolute a necessity to every one else as she was to +himself. What _should_ he do without her? How could he exist? It was an +unreasoning insanity to talk about it. He was so roused by his subject +indeed, that, neither of them being absolutely angelic in temperament, +they wandered off into something very like a little quarrel about +it,--he, goaded to lover-like madness by the idea that she could live +without him; she, finding her low spirits culminate in a touch of anger +at his hotheaded, affectionate obstinacy. + +“But it is not to be expected,” he broke out at last, without any +reason whatever,--“it is not to be expected that you can contend against +everything. You are tired of disappointment, and I don't blame you. +I should be a selfish dolt if I did. If Gowan had been in my place he +could have married you, and have given you a home of your own. I never +shall be able to do that. But,” with great weakness and evidence of +tribulation at the thought, “I didn't think you would be so cool about +it, Dolly.” + +“Cool!” cried Dolly, waxing wroth and penitent both at once, as usual. +“Who is cool? Not I, that is certain. I shall miss you every hour of my +life, Griffith.” And the sad little shadow on her face was so real that +he was pacified at once. + +“I am an unreasonable simpleton!” was his next remorseful outburst. + +“You have said that before,” said Dolly, rather hard-heartedly; but in +spite of it she did not refuse to let him be as affectionate as he chose +when he knelt down by her chair, as he did the next minute. + +“It would be a great deal better for me,” she half whispered, breaking +the suspicious silence that followed,--“it would be a great deal better +for _me_ if I did not care for you half so much;” and yet at the same +time she leaned a trifle more toward him in the most traitorous of +half-coaxing, half-reproachful ways. + +“It would be the death of _me_,” said Griffith; and he at once plunged +into an eloquently persuasive dissertation upon the height and depth +and breadth and force of his love for her. He was prone to such +dissertations, and always ready with one to improve any occasion; and +I am compelled to admit that, far from checking him, Dolly rather liked +them, and was given to encourage and incite him to their delivery. +When this one was ended, he was quite in the frame of mind to listen +to reason, and let her enter into particulars concerning her morning's +efforts, which she did, at length, only adding a flavor of the +mysterious up to the introduction of Miss MacDowlas. + +“What!” cried out Griffith, when she let out the secret. “Confound it! +No! Not Aunt MacDowlas in the flesh, Dolly? You are joking.” + +“No,” answered Dolly, shaking her head at the amazed faces of the girls, +who had come in during the recital, and who had been guilty of the +impropriety of all exclaiming at once when the climax was reached. “I +am in earnest. I am engaged as companion to no less a person than Miss +Berenice MacDowlas.” + +“Why, it is like something out of a three-volumed novel,” said Mollie. + +“It is a good joke,” said 'Toinette. + +“It is very awkward,” commented Aimée. “If she finds out you are engaged +to Griffith, she will think it so indiscreet of you both that she will +cut him off with a shilling.” + +“Indiscreet!” echoed Dolly. “So we are indiscreet, my sage young +friend,--but indiscretion is like variety, it is the spice of life.” + +And by this brisk speech she managed to sweep away the shadow which +had touched Griffith's face, at the unconscious hint at their lack of +wisdom. + +“Don't say such a thing again,” she said to Aimée afterward, when +they were talking the matter over, as they always talked things over +together, “or he will fancy that you share his own belief that he has +something to reproach himself with. Better to be indiscreet than to love +one another less.” + +“A great deal better,” commented the wise one of the family, oracularly. +She was not nineteen yet, this wise one, but she was a great comfort +and help to Dolly, and indeed to all of them. “And it is n't _my_ way +to blame you, either, Dolly, though things _do_ look so entangled. _I_ +never advised you to give it up, you know.” + +“Give it up,” cried Dolly, a soft, pathetic warmth and color rising to +her face and eyes. “Give it up! There would be too much of what has +past and what is to come to give up with it. Give it up! I wouldn't if I +could, and I could n't if I would.” + + + +CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + +IT was several days before Bloomsbury Place settled down and became +itself again after Dolly's departure. They all missed her as they would +have missed any one of their number who had chanced to leave them; +but Griffith, coming in to make his daily visits, was naturally almost +disconsolate, and for a week or so refused to be comforted. + +He could not overcome his habit of dropping in on his way to and from +his lodgings, which were near by; it was a habit of too long standing to +be overcome easily, and besides this, he was so far a part of the family +circle that his absence from it would have been regarded by its other +members as something rather like a slight, so he was obliged to pay them +the delicate attention of presenting himself at least once a day. And +thus his wounds were kept open. To come into the parlor and find them +all there but Dolly, to see her favorite chair occupied by Mollie +or Aimée or 'Toinette, to hear them talk about her and discuss her +prospects,--well, there were times when he was quite crushed by it. + +“If there was any hope of a better day coming,” he said to Aimée, who, +through being the family sage, was, of course, the family confidante, +“if there was only something real to look forward to, but we are just +where we were three years ago, and this sort of thing cannot go on +forever. What right have I to hold her to her word when other men might +make her happier?” + +Ainice, sitting on a stool at his feet and looking reflective, shook her +head. + +“That is not a right view to take,” she said, “and it is n't fair to +Dolly. Dolly would be happier with you on a pound a week than she would +be with any one else on ten thousand a year. And you ought to know that +by this time, Griffith. It is n't a question of happiness at all.” + +“I don't mean--” he was beginning, but Aimée interrupted him. Her part +of this love affair was to lay plans for the benefit of the lovers and +to endeavor to settle their little difficulties in her own way. + +“I am very fond of Dolly,” she said. + +“Fond of her!” echoed Griffith. “So am I. Who isn't?” + +“I am very fond of Dolly,” Aimée proceeded. + +“And _I_ know her as other people do not, perhaps. She does not show as +much of her real self to outsiders as they think. I have often thought +her daring, open way deceived people when it made them fancy she was +so easy to read. She has romantic fancies of her own the world never +suspects her of,--if I did not know her as I do, she is the last person +on earth I should suspect of cherishing such fancies. The fact is, you +are a sort of romance to her, and her love for you is one of her dreams, +and she clings to it as closely as she would cling to life. It is a +dream she has lived on so long that it has become part of herself, and +it is my impression that if anything happened to break her belief in it +she would die,--yes, _die!_” with another emphatic shake of the pretty +head. “And Dolly is n't the sort of girl to die for nothing.” + +Griffith raised his bowed head from his hands, his soft, dark, womanish +eyes lighting up and his sallow young face flushing. “God bless +her,--no!” he said. “Her life has not been free from thorns, even so +far, and she has not often cried out against them.” + +“No,” answered Aimée. “And when the roses come, no one will see as you +will how sweet she finds them. Your Dolly is n't Lady Augusta's Dolly, +or Mollie's, or Ralph Gowan's, or even mine; she is the Dolly no one but +her lover and her husband has ever seen or ever will see. _You_ can get +at the spark in the opal.” + +Griffith was comforted, as he often found himself comforted, under the +utterances of this wise one. + +His desperation was toned down, and he was readier to hope for the best +and to feel warm at heart and grateful,--grateful for Dolly and the +tender thoughts that were bound up in his love for her. The tender +phantom Aimée's words had conjured up, stirred within his bosom a thrill +so loving and impassioned, that for the time the radiance seemed to +emanate from the very darkest of his clouds of disappointment and +discouragement. He was reminded that but for those very clouds the +girl's truth and faith would never have shone out so brightly. But for +their poverty and long probation, he could never have learned how much +she was ready to face for love's sake. And it was such an innocent +phantom, too, this bright little figure smiling upon him through the +darkness, with Dolly's own face, and Dolly's own saucy, fanciful ways, +and Dolly's own hands outstretched toward him. He quite plucked up +spirit. + +“If Old Flynn could just be persuaded to give me a raise,” he said; “it +would n't take much of an income for two people to live on.” + +“No,” answered the wise one, feeling some slight misgivings, more on +the subject of the out-go than the income. “You might live on very +little--if you had it.” + +“Yes,” said Griffith, apparently struck by the brilliancy of the +observation, “Dolly and I have said so often.” + +“Let me see,” considered Aimée, “suppose we were to make a sort +of calculation. Give me your lead-pencil and a leaf out of your +pocket-book.” + +Griffith produced both at once. He had done it often enough before when +Dolly had been the calculator, and had made a half-serious joke of the +performance, counting up her figures on the tips of her fingers, and +making great professions of her knowledge of domestic matters; but +it was a different affair in Aimée's hands. Aimée was in earnest, and +bending over her scrap of paper, with two or three little lines on +her white forehead began to set things down with an air at once +business-like and vigorous, reading, the various items aloud. + +“Rent, coals, taxes, food, wages,--you can't do your own washing, you +know,--clothes, etceteras. There it is, Griffith,” the odd, tried look +settling in her eyes. + +Griffith took the paper. + +“Thank you,” he remarked, resignedly, after he had glanced at it. “Just +fifty pounds per annum more than I have any prospect of getting. But +you are very kind to take so much interest in it, little woman.” “Little +woman” was his pet name for her. + +She put her hand up to her forehead and gave the wrinkles a little rub, +as if she would have liked to rub them away. + +“No,” she said, in distress. “I am very fond of calculating, so it isn't +any trouble to me. I only wish I could calculate until what you want and +what you have got would come out even.” + +Griffith sighed. He had wished the same thing himself upon several +occasions. + +He had one consolation in the midst of his tribulations, however. He had +Dolly's letters, one of which arrived at “the office” every few days. +Certainly they were both faithful correspondents. Tied with blue ribbon +in a certain strong box, lay an immense collection of small envelopes, +all marked with one peculiarity, namely, that the letters inside them +had been at once closely written, and so much too tightly packed that it +seemed a wonder they had ever arrived safely at their destination. +They bore various postmarks, foreign and English, and were of different +tints, but they were all directed in the one small, dashing hand, whose +_t'_s were crossed with an audacious little flourish, and whose capitals +were so prone to run into whimsical little curls. Most of them had been +written when Dolly had sojourned with her charges in Switzerland, and +some of them were merely notes of appointment from Bloomsbury Place; but +each of them held its own magnetic attraction for Griffith, and not one +of them would he have parted with for untold gold. He could count these +small envelopes by the score, but he had never received one in his +life without experiencing a positive throb of delight, which held fresh +pleasure every time. + +Most of these letters, too, had stories of their own. Some had come when +he had been discouraged and down at heart, and they had been so full of +sunshine, and pretty, loving conceits, that by the time he had finished +reading them he had been positively jubilant; some, I regret to say, +were a trifle wilful and coquettish, and had so roused him to jealous +fancies that he had instantly dashed off a page or so of insane reproach +and distrust which had been the beginning of a lover's quarrel; some +of them (always written after he had been specially miserable and +unreasoning) were half-pathetic mixtures of reproach and appeal, full of +small dashes of high indignation, and outbursts of penitence, and with +such a capricious, yet passionate ring in every line, that they had +seemed less like letters than actual speech, and had almost forced him +to fancy that Dolly herself was at his side, all in the flush and glow +of one of her prettiest remorseful outbreaks. + +And these letters from Brabazon Lodge were just as real, so they +at least helped him to bear his trials more patiently than he could +otherwise have done. She was far more comfortable than she had expected +to be, she told him. Her duties were light, and Miss MacDowlas not hard +to please, and altogether she was not dissatisfied. + +“But that I am away from _you_,” she wrote, “I should say Brabazon +Lodge was better than the Bilberrys'. There is no skirmishing with Lady +Augusta, at least; and, though skirmishing with Lady Augusta is not +without its mild excitement, it is not necessary to one's happiness, +and may be dispensed with. I wonder what Miss MacDowlas would say if she +knew why I wear this modest ring on my third finger. When I explained to +her casually that we were old friends, she succinctly remarked that you +were a reprobate, and, feeling it prudent not to proceed with further +disclosures, I bent my head demurely over my embroidery, and subsided +into silence. I cannot discover why she disapproves of you unless it +is that she has erratic notions about literary people. Perhaps she will +alter her opinion in time. As it is, it can scarcely matter whether she +knows of our engagement or not. When a fitting opportunity arrives +I shall tell her, and I don't say I shall not enjoy the spice of the +_denouement_. In the meantime I read aloud to her, talk, work wonders in +Berlin wool, and play or sing when she asks me, which is not often. In +the morning we drive out, in the afternoon she enjoys her nap, and +in the evening I sit decorously intent upon the Berlin wonders, but +thinking all the time of you and the parlor in Bloomsbury Place, where +Tod disports himself in triumphant indifference to consequences, and +where the girls discuss the lingering possibilities of their wardrobes. +You may-tell Mollie we are very grand,--we have an immense footman, who +accompanies us in our walks or drives, and condescends to open and shut +our carriage-door for us, with the air of a gentleman at leisure. I am +rather inclined to think that this gentleman has cast an approving eye +upon me, as I heard him observe to the housemaid the other day, that I +was 'a reether hinterestin' young party,' which mark of friendly notice +has naturally cheered me on my lonely way.” + +Among the people who felt the change in the household keenly, Ralph +Gowan may assuredly be included. He missed Dolly as much as any of them +did, but he missed her in a different manner. He did not call quite as +often as he had been in the habit of doing, and when he did call he was +more silent and less entertaining. Dolly had always had an inspiring +effect upon him, and, lacking the influence of her presence, even +Vagabondia lost something of its charm. So sometimes he was guilty of +the impoliteness of slipping into half-unconscious reveries of a few +minutes' duration, and, being thus guilty upon one particular occasion, +he was roused, after a short lapse of time, through the magnetic +influence of a pair of soft eyes fixed upon him, which eyes he +encountered the instant he looked up, with a start. + +Mollie--the eyes were Mollie's--dropped her brown lashes with a quick +motion, turning a little away from him; so he smiled at her with a sense +of half-awakened appreciation. It was so natural to smile so at Mollie. + +“Why, Mollie,” he said, “what ails us? We are not usually so dull. We +have not spoken to each other for ten minutes.” + +The girl did not look at him; her round, childish cheek was flushed, +and her eyes were fixed on the fire, half proudly, half with a sort of +innocently transparent indifference. + +“Perhaps we have nothing worth saying to each other,” she said. +“Everybody is n't like Dolly.” + +Dolly! He colored slightly, though he smiled again. How did she know he +was thinking of Dolly? Was it so patent a fact that even she could read +it in his face? It never occurred to him for an instant that there could +exist a reason why the eyes of this grown-up baby should be sharpened. +She was such a very baby, with her ready blushes and her pettish, lovely +face. + +“And so you miss Dolly, too?” he said. + +She shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply that she considered the +question superfluous. + +“Of course I do,” she answered; “and of course we all do. Dolly is the +sort of person likely to be missed.” + +She was so petulant about it that, not understanding her, he was both +amused and puzzled, and so by degrees was drawn into making divers +gallant, almost caressing speeches, such as might have been drawn from +him by the changeful mood of a charming, wilful child. + +“Something has made you angry,” he said. “What is it, Mollie?” + +“Nothing has made me angry,” she replied. “I am not angry.” + +“But you look angry,” he returned, “and how do you suppose I am to be +interesting when you look angry?” + +“It cannot matter to you,” said Miss Mollie, “whether I am angry or +not.” + +“Not matter!” he echoed, with great gravity. “It amounts to positive +cruelty. Just at this particular moment I feel as if I should never +smile again.” + +She reddened to her very throat, and then turned round all at once, +flashing upon him such a piteous, indignant, indescribable glance as +almost startled him. + +“You are making fun of me,” she cried out. “You always make fun of _me_. +You would n't talk so to Dolly.” And that instant she burst into tears. + +He was dumbfounded. He could not comprehend it at all. He had thought +of her as being so completely a child, that her troubles were never more +than a child's troubles, and her moods a child's moods. He had admired +her, too, as he would have admired her if she had been six years old, +and he had never spoken to her as he would have spoken to a woman, in +the whole course of their acquaintance. She was right in telling him +that he would not have said such things to Dolly. He was both concerned +and touched. What could he do but go to her and be dangerously penitent, +and say a great many things easily said, but not soon to be forgotten! +Indeed, her soft, nervous, passionate sobs, of which she was so much +ashamed, her innocent tremor, and her pretty, wilful disregard of his +remorse were such a new sensation to him, that it must be confessed he +was not so discreet as he should have been. + +“You never speak so to Dolly,” she persisted, “nor to Aimée, either, +and Aimée is only two years older than I am. It is not my fault,” + petulantly, “that I am only seventeen.” + +“Fault!” he repeated after her. “It is a very charming fault, if it is +one. Come, Mollie,” looking down at her with a tender softness in his +eyes, “make friends with me again,--we ought to be friends. See,--let us +shake hands!” + +Of course she let him take her hand and hold it lightly for a moment as +he talked, his really honest remorse at his blunder making him doubly +earnest and so doubly dangerous. She had swept even Dolly out of his +mind for the time being, and she occupied his attention so fully for the +rest of the evening that he had not the time to be absent-minded again. +In half an hour all traces of her tears had fled, and she was sitting on +her footstool near him, accepting with such evident delight his efforts +at amusing her, that she quite repaid him for his trouble. + +After this there seemed to be some connecting link between them. In +default of other attractions, he made headway with Mollie, and was to +some extent consoled. He talked to her when he made his visits, and it +gradually became an understood thing that they were very good friends. +He won her confidence completely,--so far, indeed, that she used to +tell him her troubles, and was ready to accept what meed of praise or +friendly blame he might think fit to bestow upon her. + +It was a few weeks after the above-recorded episode that Griffith +arrived one afternoon, in some haste, with a note from Dolly addressed +to Aimée, and containing a few hurried lines. It had been enclosed in a +letter to himself. + +Somewhat unexpectedly Miss MacDowlas had decided upon giving a +dinner-party, and Dolly wanted the white merino, which she had forgotten +to put into her trunk when she had packed it. Would they make a parcel +of it and send it by Mollie to Brabazon Lodge? + +“You will have to go at once, Mollie,” said Aimée, after reading the +note. “It will be dark in an hour, and you ought not to be out after +dark.” + +“It is a great deal nicer to be out then,” said Mollie, whose ideas +of propriety were by no means rigid. “I like to see the shop windows +lighted up. Where is my hat? Does anybody know?” rising from the carpet +and abandoning Tod to his own resources. + +Nobody did know, of course. It was not natural that anybody should. Hats +and gloves and such small fry were generally left to provide quarters +for themselves in Bloomsbury Place. + +“What is the use of bothering?” remarked Mrs. Phil, disposing of the +difficulty of their non-appearance when required, simply; “they always +turn up in time.” And in like manner Mollie's hat “turned up,” and in +a few minutes she returned to the parlor, tying the elastic under her +hair. + +“Your hair wants doing,” said Aimée, having made up her parcel. + +“Yes,” replied Mollie, contentedly, “Tod has been pulling himself up by +it; but it would be such a trouble to do anything to it just now, and I +can tuck it back in a bunch. It only looks a little fuzzy, and that 's +fashionable. Does this jacket look shabby, Aimée? It is a good thing it +has pockets in it. I always _did_ like pockets in a jacket, they are so +nice to put your hands in when your gloves have holes in them.” + +“Your gloves oughtn't to have holes in them,” commented Aimée. + +“But how can you help it if you have n't got the money to buy new ones?” + asked Mollie. + +“You ought to mend them,” said the wise one. + +“Mend them!” echoed Mollie, regarding two or three bare pink finger-tips +dubiously. “They are not worth mending.” + +“They were once,” said Aimée; “and you ought to have stitched them +before it was too late. But that is always our way,” wrinkling her +forehead with her usual touch of old-young anxiousness. “We are not +practical. There! take the parcel and walk quickly, Mollie.” + +Once on the street, Mollie certainly obeyed her. With the parcel in one +arm, and with one hand thrust into the convenient pocket, she hurried +on her way briskly, not even stopping once to look at the shop windows. +Quite unconscious, too, was she of the notice she excited among the +passers-by. People even turned to look after her more than once, as +indeed they often did. The scarlet scarf twisted round her throat to +hide the frayed jacket collar, and the bit of scarlet mixed with the +trimmings of her hat contrasted artistically with her brown eyes, and +added brightness to the color on her cheeks. It was no wonder that men +and women alike, in spite of their business-like hurry, found time to +glance at her and even turn their heads over their shoulders to look +backward, as she made her way along the pavement. + +It was quite dark when she reached her destination, and Brabazon Lodge +was brilliantly lighted up,--so brilliantly, indeed, that when the heavy +front door was opened, in answer to her ring, she was a trifle dazzled +by the flood of brightness in which Dolly's friend, the “gentleman at +leisure,” seemed to stand. + +On stating her errand, she was handed over to a female servant, who +stood in the hall. + +“She was to be harsked in,” she heard the footman observe, +confidentially, to the young woman, “and taken to Miss Crewe's room +immediate.” + +So she was led up-stairs, and ushered into a pretty bedroom, where she +found Dolly sitting by the fire in a dressing-gown, with her hair about +her shoulders. + +She jumped up the moment Mollie entered, and ran to her, brush in hand, +to kiss her. + +“You are a good child,” she said. “Come to the fire and sit down. Did +you have any trouble in finding the house? I was afraid you would. It +was just like me to forget the dress, and I never missed it until I +began to look for it, wanting to wear it to-night. How is Tod?” + +“He has got another tooth,” said Mollie. “I found it to-day. Dolly,” + glancing round, “how nice your room is!” + +“Yes,” answered Dolly, checking a sigh, “but don't sigh after the +fleshpots of Egypt, Mollie. One does n't see the dullest side of life at +Bloomsbury Place, at least.” + +“Is it dull here?” asked Mollie. + +Dolly shrugged her expressive shoulders. + +“Berlin-wool work is n't exciting,” she said. “How did you leave +Griffith?” + +“Low-spirited,” replied Mollie. “I heard him tell Aimée this afternoon +that he could n't stand it much longer.” + +Dolly began to brush her hair, and brushed it very much over her face, +perhaps because she wished to take advantage of its shadow; for most +assuredly Mollie caught sight of something sparkling amongst the +abundant waves almost like a drop of dew. + +“Dolly,” she said at last, breaking the awkward little sympathetic +silence which naturally followed, “do you remember our reading the +'Vicar of Wakefield'?” + +“Yes,” said Dolly, in a mournful half-whisper; she could not trust +herself to say more. + +“And about the family being 'up,' and then being 'down'? I always think +we are like they were. First it is 'the family up,' and then 'the family +down.' It is down just now.” + +“Yes,” said Dolly. + +“It will be 'up' again, in time,” proceeded Mollie, sagaciously. “It +always is.” + +Dolly tried to laugh, but her laugh was a nervous little effort which +broke off in another sound altogether. Berlin-wool work and Brabazon +Lodge had tried her somewhat and--she wanted Griffith. It seemed to her +just then such a far distant unreal Paradise,--that dream of the modest +parlor with the door shut against the world, and the green sofa drawn +near the fire. Were they ever to attain it, or were they to grow old and +tired out waiting, and hoping against hope? + +She managed to rally, however, in a few minutes. Feeling discouraged and +rebellious was not of much use,--that was one of Vagabondia's earliest +learned lessons. And what good was there in making Mollie miserable? So +she plucked up spirit and began to talk, and, to her credit be it said, +succeeded in being fairly amusing, and made Mollie laugh outright half a +dozen times during the remainder of her short stay. It was only a short +stay, however. She remembered Aimée's warning at last, and rose rather +in a hurry. + +“I shall have to walk quickly if I want to get home in time for tea,” + she said, “so good-night, Dolly. You had better finish dressing.” + +“So I had,” answered Dolly. “I am behind time already, but I shall not +be many minutes, and Miss MacDowlas is not like Lady Augusta. Listen; I +believe I hear wheels at the door now. It must be later than I fancied.” + +It was later than she fancied. As Mollie passed through the hall two +gentlemen who were ascending the steps crossed her path, and, seeing the +face of one who had not appeared to notice her presence, she started +so nervously that she dropped her glove. His companion--a handsome, +foreign-looking man--bent down and, picking it up, returned it to her, +with a glance of admiring scrutiny which made her more excited than +ever. She scarcely had the presence of mind to thank him, but rushed +past him and out into the night in a passionate flutter of pain and +sudden childish anger, inconsistent enough. + +“He never saw me!” she said to herself, catching her breath piteously. +“He is going to see Dolly. It is n't the party he cares for, and it +is n't Miss MacDowlas,--it is nobody but Dolly. He has tried to get an +invitation just because--because he cares for Dolly.” + +She reached home in time for tea, arriving with so little breath and so +much burning color that they all stared at her, and Aimée asked her if +she had been frightened. + +“No,” she answered, “but I ran half the way because I wanted to be in +time.” + +She did not talk at tea, and scarcely ate anything, and when Griffith +came in, at about nine o'clock, he found her lying on the sofa, flushed +and silent. She said she had a headache. + +“I took Dolly her dress,” she said. “They are having a grand party +and--Does Miss MacDowlas know Mr. Gowan, Griffith?” + +Griffith started and changed countenance at once. + +“No,” he answered. “Why?” + +“He was there,” she said, listlessly. “I met him in the hall as I came +out, but he did not see me. He must have tried to get an invitation +because--well, you know how he likes Dolly.” + +And thus, the train having been already laid, was the spark applied. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + +IT was some time before Griffith recovered from the effects of this +simple announcement of Mollie's. + +Though he scarcely confessed as much to himself, he thought of it +very much oftener than was conducive to his own peace of mind, and +in thinking of it he found it assuming a greater importance and +significance than he had at first recognized in it, and was influenced +accordingly. He went home to his lodgings, depressed and heavy of +spirit; in fact, he left Bloomsbury Place earlier than usual, because he +longed to be alone. He could think of nothing but Dolly,--Dolly in the +white merino, shining like a stray star among her employer's guests, and +gladdening the eyes of Ralph Gowan. He knew so well how she would +look, and how this fellow would follow her in his easy fashion, without +rendering himself noticeable, and manage to be near her through the +evening and hold his place as if he had a right to it, and he knew, too, +how natural it would be for Dolly's eyes to light up in her pleasure +at being saved from boredom, and how her innocent gladness would show +itself in a score of pretty ways. And it was as Mollie said,--it was for +Dolly's sake that Ralph Gowan was there to-night. + +“She must know that it is so herself,” he groaned, dropping his head +upon the table; “but she cannot help it. She would if she could. Yes, +I 'll believe that. She could never be false to me. I must hold fast to +that in spite of everything. I should go mad if I did n't. I could never +lose you, Dolly,--I could never lose you!” + +But he groaned again the next moment from the bottom of his desperate +heart. He had become tangled in yet another web of misery. + +“It is only another proof of what I have said a thousand times,” he +cried out. “My claim upon her is so weak, that this fellow does not +think it worth regarding. He thinks it may be set aside,--they all +think it may be set aside. I should not wonder,” clenching his hand and +speaking through his teeth,--“I should not wonder if he has laughed +many a time at his fancy of how it will end, and how easy it will be to +thrust the old love to the wall!” + +At this moment, in the first rankling sting of humiliation and despair, +he could almost have struck a murderous blow at the man whom fortune +had set on such a pinnacle of pride and insolence, as it seemed to his +galled fancy. He was not in the mood to be either just or generous, and +he saw in Ralph Gowan nothing but a man who had both the power and will +to rival him, and rob him of peace and hope forever. If Dolly had been +with him, in all probability his wretchedness would have evaporated in a +harmless outburst, which would have touched the girl's heart so tenderly +that she would have withheld nothing of love and consolation which could +reassure him, and so in the end the tempest would have left no wound +behind. But as it was left to himself and his imaginings, every thought +held its bitter sting. He was, as it were, upon the brink of an abyss. + +And while this danger was threatening her, Dolly was setting herself +steadfastly to her task of entertaining her employer's guests, though +it must be confessed that she found it necessary to summon all her +energies. She was thinking of Griffith, but not as Griffith was thinking +of her. She was picturing him looking desolate among the group round +the fire at Bloomsbury Place, or else working desperately and with +unnecessary energy amidst the dust and gloom of the dimly lighted +office; and the result was that her spirit almost failed. It was quite +a relief to encounter Ralph Gowan, as she did, on entering the room: he +had seen them all latterly, and could enter into particulars; and so, +in her pleasure, it must be owned that her face brightened, just as +Griffith had fancied it would, when she shook hands with him. + +“I did not hear that you were coming,” she said. “How glad I am!” + which was the most dangerous speech she could have made under +the circumstances, since it was purely on her account that he had +diplomatized to obtain the invitation. + +He did not find it easy to release her hand all at once, and certainly +he lighted up also. + +“Will you let me tell you that it was not Miss MacDowlas who brought me +here?” he said, in a low voice; “though I appreciate her kindness, as a +grateful man ought. Vagabondia is desolate without you.” + +She tried to laugh, but could not; her attempt broke off in the +unconscious sigh, which always touched him, he scarcely knew why. + +“Is it?” she said, looking up at him without a bit of the old +brightness. “Don't tell them, Mr. Gowan, but the fact is I am desolate +without it. I want to go home.” + +He felt his heart leap suddenly, and before he could check himself he +spoke. + +“I wish--I _wish_,” he said, “that you would let me take you home.” And +the simply sounding words embodied a great deal more of tender fancy +than a careless observer would have imagined; and Dolly, recognizing the +thrill in his voice, was half startled. + +But she shook her head, and managed to smile. + +“That is not wisdom,” she said. “It savors of the lilies of the field. +We cannot quarrel with our bread and butter for sentiment's sake +in Vagabondia. Did you know that Mollie had paid me a visit this +evening?--or perhaps you saw her; I think she went out as you came in.” + +“Mollie!” he said, surprisedly; and then looking half annoyed, or at +least a trifle disturbed, he added, as if a sudden thought had occurred +to him, “then it was Mollie, Chandos spoke of.” + +“Chandos!” echoed Dolly. “Who is Chandos--and what did Chandos say about +Mollie?” + +He glanced across the room to where a tall, handsome man was bending +over a fussy little woman in pink. + +“That is Chandos,” he said; “and since you spoke of Mollie's visit, I +recollect that, as we came into the house, Chandos was behind me and +lingered a moment or so, and when he came to me afterward he asked if +I had seen the face that passed us as we entered. It had roused his +enthusiasm as far as it can be roused by anything.” + +“It must have been Mollie,” commented Dolly, and she looked at the man +on the opposite side of the room, uneasily. “Is he a friend of yours?” + she asked, after scrutinizing him for a few seconds. + +Gowan shrugged his shoulders.' + +“Not a friend,” he answered, dryly. “An acquaintance. We have not much +in common.” + +“I am glad to hear it,” was Dolly's return. “I don't like Chandos.” + +She could not have explained why she did not like him, but certainly she +was vaguely repelled and could not help hoping that he would never see +Mollie again. He was just the man to be dangerous to Mollie; handsome, +polished, ready of speech and perfect in manner, he was the sort of man +to dazzle and flatter any ignorant, believing child. + +“Oh!” she exclaimed, half aloud, “I could not bear to think that he +would see her again.” + +She uttered the words quite involuntarily, but Gowan heard them, and +looked at her in some surprise, and so awakened her from her reverie. + +“Are you speaking of Mollie?” he asked. + +“Yes,” she answered, candidly, “though I did not mean to speak aloud. +My thoughts were only a mental echo of the remark I made a moment +ago,--that I don't like Chandos. I do not like him at all, even at this +distance, and I cannot resist feeling that I do not want him to see +anything more of Mollie. We are not very discreet, we Vagabonds, but we +must learn wisdom enough to shield Mollie.” And she sighed again. + +“I understand that,” he said, almost tenderly, so sympathetically, in +fact, that she turned toward him as if moved by a sudden impulse. + +“I have sometimes thought since I came here,” she said, “that perhaps +_you_ might help me a little, if you would. She is so pretty, you see, +and so young, and, through knowing so little of the world and longing to +know so much, in a childish, half-dazzled way, is so innocently wilful +that she would succumb to a novel influence more readily than to an +old one. So I have thought once or twice of asking you to watch her a +little, and guard her if--if you should ever see her in danger.” + +“I can promise to do that much, at least,” he returned, smiling. + +She held out her hand impetuously, just as she would have held it out +to Griffith, and, oh, the hazard of it,--the hazard of so throwing aside +her mock airs and graces, and showing herself to him just as she showed +herself to the man she loved,--the Dolly whose heart was on her lips and +whose soul was in her eyes. + +“Then we will make a 'paction' of it,” she said. “You will help me to +take care of her.” + +“For your sake,” he said, “there are few things I would not do.” + +So from that time forward he fell into the habit of regarding +unsuspecting Mollie as his own special charge. He was so faithful to +his agreement, indeed, that once or twice Griffith was almost ready to +console himself with the thought that perhaps, after all, the child's +beauty and tractability would win its way, and Gowan would find himself +seriously touched at heart. Just now he could see that his manner was +scarcely that of a lover, but there most assuredly was a probability +that it might alter and become more warm and less friendly and platonic. +As to Mollie herself, she was growing a trifle incomprehensible; she +paid more attention to her lovely hair than she had been in the habit +of doing, and was even known to mend her gloves; she began to be more +conscious of the dignity of her seventeen years. She complained less +petulantly of the attentions of Phil's friends, and accepted them with +a better grace. The wise one even observed that she tolerated Brown, +the obnoxious, and permitted him to admire her--at a distance. In her +intercourse with Gowan she was capricious and had her moods. Sometimes +she indulged in the weakness of tiring herself in all her small bravery +when he was coming, and presented herself in the parlor beauteous and +flushed and conscious, and was so delectably shy and sweet that she +betrayed him into numerous trifling follies not at all consistent with +his high position of mentor; and then, again, she was obstinate, rather +incomprehensible, and did not adorn herself at all, and, indeed, was +hard enough to manage. + +“You are growing very queer, Mollie,” said Miss Aimée, wonderingly. + +To which sage remark Mollie retorted with a tremulous, sensitive flush, +and most unnecessary warmth of manner. + +“I 'm not queer at all I wish you would n't bother so, Aimée!” + +That very afternoon she came into the room with a card in her hand, +after going out to answer a summons at the door-bell. + +“Phil,” she said, “a gentleman wants you. Chandos, the card says.” + +“Chandos!” read Phil, rising from the comfort of his couch, and taking +his pipe out of his mouth. “Who knows Chandos?--I don't. It must be some +fellow on business.” + +And so it proved. He found the gentleman awaiting him in the next +room, and in a very short time learned his errand. Chandos introduced +himself--Gerald Chandos, of The Pools, Bedfordshire, who, hearing of Mr. +Crewe through numerous friends, not specified, and having a fancy--quite +the fancy of an uncultured amateur, modestly--for pictures and an +absorbing passion for art in all its forms, had taken the liberty of +calling, etc. It was very smoothly said, and Chandos, of The Pools, +being an imposing patrician sort of individual, and free from all +fopperies or affectations, Phil met his advances complacently enough. +It was no unusual thing for an occasional patron to drop in after this +manner. He had no fault to find with a man who, having the good fortune +to possess money, had the good taste to know how to spend it. So he +made friends with Chandos, pretty much as he had made friends with +Gowan,--pretty much as he would have made friends with any other +sufficiently amiable and well-bred visitor to his modest studio. He +showed him his pictures, and talked art to him, and managed to spend an +hour very pleasantly, ending by selling him a couple of tiny spirited +sketches, which had taken his fancy. It was when he was taking +down these sketches from the wall that he heard a sort of smothered +exclamation from the man, who stood a few feet apart from him, and, +turning to see what it meant, he saw that he had just discovered the +fresh, lovely, black-hooded head, with the trail of autumn leaves +clinging to the loose trail of hair,--the picture for which Mollie +had sat as model. It was very evident that Chandos, of The Pools, was +admiring it. + +“Ah!” said he, the next minute. “I know this face. There can scarcely be +two faces like it.” + +Phil left his sketches and came to him, the pleasure he felt on the +success of his creation warming him up. This picture, with Mollie's face +and head, was a great favorite of his. + +“Yes,” he said, standing opposite to it, with his hands in his pockets, +and critical appreciation in his eyes. “You could not very well mistake +it. Heads are not my exact forte, you know; but that is Mollie to a tint +and a curve, and I am rather proud of it.” + +Chandos regarded it steadfastly. + +“And well you may be,” he answered. “Your sister, I believe?” + +“Mollie!” exclaimed Phil, stepping a trifle aside, to get into a better +light, and speaking almost abstractedly. “Oh, yes, to be sure! She is my +sister,--the youngest. There are three of them. That flesh tint is one +of the best points.” + +And in the meantime, while this apparently trivial conversation was +being carried on in the studio, Mollie, in the parlor, had settled +herself upon a stool close to the fire, and, resting her chin on her +hand and her elbow on her knee, was looking reflective. + +“That Chandos is somebody new,” 'Toinette remarked. “I hope he has come +to buy something. I want some gold sleeve-loops for Tod. I saw some +beauties the other day, when I was out.” + +“But you could n't afford them if Phil sold two pictures instead of +one,” said Aimée. “There are so many other useful things you need.” + +“He is n't a stranger to me,” put in Mollie, suddenly. “I have seen him +before.” + +“Who?” said 'Toinette. She was thinking more of Tod's gold sleeve-loops +than of anything else. + +“This Mr. Chandos,” answered Mollie, without looking up from the fire. +“I saw him at Brabazon Lodge the night I went to take Dolly her dress. +He was with Mr. Gowan, and I dropped my glove, and he picked it up for +me. I was coming out as they were going in.” + +“I wonder,” said Aimée, “whether Mr. Gowan goes to Brabazon Lodge +often?” + +“I don't know, I 'm sure,” answered Mollie, shrugging her shoulder. +“How is one to learn? He would n't be likely to tell us. I should think, +though, that he does. He is too fond of Dolly”--with a slight choke in +her voice--“to stay away, if he can help it.” + +“It's queer,” commented 'Toinette, “how men like Dolly. She is n't a +beauty, I 'm sure; and for the matter of that, when her hair is n't done +up right, she is n't even pretty.” + +“It isn't queer, at all,” said Mollie, rather crossly; “it's her way. +She can make such a deal out of nothing, and she does n't stand at +trouble when she wants to _make_ people like her. _She_ says any one can +do it, and it is only a question of patience; but I don't believe her. +See how frantic Griffith is about her. He is more desperately in love +with her to-day than he was at the very first, seven years ago.” + +“And she cares more for him, I'm sure,” said Aimée. + +Mollie's shoulder went up again. “She flirts with people enough, if she +does,” she commented. + +“Ah!” returned Aimée, “that is 'her way,' as you call it, again. +Somehow, it seems as if she can't help it. It is as natural to her as +the color of her hair and eyes. She can't help doing odd things and +making speeches that rouse people and tempt them into liking her. She +has done such things all her life, and sometimes I think she will do +them even when she is an old woman; though, of course, she will do them +in a different way. Dolly would n't be Dolly without her whimsicalness, +any more than Dick there, in his cage, would be a canary if he did n't +twitter and sing.” + +“Does she ever do such things to women?” asked Miss Mollie, shrewdly. +She seemed to be in a singular mood this afternoon. + +“Yes,” Aimée protested, “she does; and what is more, she is not +different even with children. I have seen her take just as much trouble +to please Phemie and the little Bilberrys as she would take to please +Griffith or--or Mr. Gowan. And see how fond they were of her. If she had +cared for nothing but masculine admiration, do you think Phemie would +have adored her as she did, and those dull children would have been so +desolate when she left them? No, I tell you. Dolly's weakness--and +it isn't such a very terrible weakness, after all--lies in wanting +_everybody_ to like her,--men, women, and children; yes, down to babies +and dogs and cats. And see here, Mollie, ain't we rather fond of her +ourselves?” + +“Yes,” owned Mollie, staring at the fire, “we are. Fond enough.” + +“And is n't she rather fond of us?” + +“Yes, she is--for the matter of that,” acquiesced Mollie. + +“Yes,” began 'Toinette, and then, the sound of footsteps upon the +staircase interrupting her, she broke off abruptly to listen. “It is +Phil's visitor,” she said. + +Mollie got up from her seat, roused into a lazy sort of interest. + +“I am going to look at him,” she said, and went to the window. + +The next minute she drew back, blushing. + +“He saw me,” she said. “I did n't think he could, if I stood here in the +corner.” + +But he had; and more than that, in his admiration of her dimples and +round fire-flushed cheeks, had smiled into her face, openly and without +stint, as he passed. + +After tea Gowan came in. Mollie opened the door for him; and Mollie, in +a soft blue dress, and with her hair dressed to a marvel, was a vision +to have touched any man's fancy. She was in one of her sweet acquiescent +moods, too, having recovered herself since the afternoon; and when she +led him into the parlor, she blushed without any reason whatever, as +usual, and as a consequence looked enchanting. + +“Phil has gone out,” she said. “'Toinette is putting Tod to bed, and +Aimée is helping her; so there is no one here but me.” + +Gowan sat down--in Dolly's favorite chair. + +“You are quite enough,” he said; “quite enough--for me.” + +She turned away, making a transparent little pretence of requiring a +hand-screen from the mantelpiece, and, having got it, she too sat down, +and fell to examining a wretched little daub of a picture upon it most +minutely. + +“This is very badly done,” she observed, irrelevantly. “Dolly did it, +and made it up elaborately into this screen because it was such a sight. +It is just like Dolly, to make fun and joke at her own mistakes. She has +n't a particle of talent for drawing. She did this once when Griffith +thought he was going to get into something that would bring him money +enough to allow of their being married. She made a whole lot of little +mats and things to put in their house when they got it, but Griffith did +n't get the position, so they had to settle down again.” + +“Good Heavens!” ejaculated Gowan. + +“What is the matter?” she asked. + +He moved a trifle uneasily in his chair. He had not meant to speak +aloud. + +“An unintentional outburst, Mollie,” he said. “A cheerful state of +affairs, that.” + +“What state of affairs?” she inquired. “Oh, you mean Dolly's engagement. +Well, of course, it _has_ been a long one; but then, you see, they like +each other very much. Aimée was only saying this afternoon that they +cared for each other more now than they did at first.” + +“Do they?” said Gowan, and for the time being lapsed into silence. + +“It's a cross-grained sort of fortune that seems to control us in this +world, Mollie,” he said, at length. + +Mollie stared at the poor little daub on her hand-screen and met his +philosophy indifferently enough. + +“_You_ ought n't to say so,” she answered. “And I don't know anything +about it.” + +He laughed--quite savagely for so amiable a young man. + +“I!” he repeated. “I ought not to say so, ought n't I? I think I ought. +It _is_ a cross-grained fortune, Mollie. We are always falling in love +with people who do not care for us, or with people who care for some one +else, or with people who are too poor to marry us, or--” + +“Speak for yourself,” said Mollie, with a vigor quite wonderful and new +in her. “_I_ am not.” + +And she held her screen up between her face and his, so that he could +not see her. She could have burst into a passionate gush of tears. It +was Dolly he was thinking about,--it was Dolly who had the power to make +him unhappy and sardonic,--always Dolly. + +“Then you are a wise child, Mollie,” he said. “But you are a very young +child yet,--only seventeen, is n't it? Well, it may all come in good +time.” + +“It will not come at all,” she asserted, stubbornly. + +Dolly's little wretch of a hand-screen was quite trembling in her hand, +it made her so desperate to feel, as she did, that she was of such small +consequence to him that he could treat her as a child, and make a sort +of joke of his confidence. But he did not see it. + +“Ah! well, you see,” he went on, “I thought so once, but it has come to +me nevertheless. The fact is, I am crying for the moon, Mollie, as many +a wiser and better man has done before me.” + +She did not answer, so he rose and walked once or twice across the room. +When he came back to the fire, she had risen too, and was standing up, +biting the edge of her screen, all flushed, and with a brightness in +her eyes he did not understand. Poor little soul! she was suffering very +sharply in her childish way. + +He laid a hand on either of her shoulders, and spoke to her gently +enough. + +“Mollie,” he said, “let us sit down together and condole with each +other. You are not in a good humor to-night, something has rasped +you again; and as for me, I am about as miserable, my dear, as it is +possible for a man with a few thousand a year to be.” + +She tried to answer him steadily, and, finding she could not, rushed +into novel subterfuge. Subterfuge was a novelty to Mollie. + +“Yes,” she said, lifting the most beauteous of tear-wet eyes to his +quite eagerly. “Yes, I am crossed, and--and something has vexed me. I am +getting bad-tempered, I think. Suppose we do sit down.” + +And then when they did sit down--she on the hearth-rug at his feet, he +in Dolly's chair again--she broke out upon him in a voice like a sharp +little sob. + +“I know what _you_ are miserable about,” she said. “You are miserable +about Dolly.” + +They had never spoken about the matter openly before, though he had +always felt that if he could speak openly to any one, he could to this +charming charge of his. Such is the keenness of masculine penetration. +And now he felt almost relieved already. The natural craving for +sympathy of some kind or other was to satisfy itself through the medium +of pretty, much-tried Mollie. + +“Yes,” he answered, half desperately, half reluctantly. “Dolly is the +moon I am crying for,--or rather, as I might put it more poetically, +'the bright particular star.' What a good little thing you are to guess +at it so soon!” + +“It did n't need much guessing at,” she said, curving her innocent mouth +in a piteous effort to smile. + +He, leaning against the round, padded back of his chair, sighed, and as +he sighed almost forgot the poor child altogether, even while she spoke +to him. Having all things else, he must still cry for this one other +gift, and really he felt very dolorous. + +Mollie, pulling her screen to pieces, looked at him with a heavy yet +adoring heart. She was young enough to be greatly moved by his physical +beauty, and just now she could not turn away from him. His long-limbed, +slender figure (which, while still graceful and lithe enough, was _not_ +a model of perfection, as she fondly imagined), his pale, dark face, +his dark eyes, even his rather impolite and uncomplimentary abstraction, +held fascination for her. Not having been greatly smiled upon by +fortune, she had fallen to longing eagerly and fearfully for this one +gift which had been so freely vouchsafed to Dolly, who had neither asked +nor cared for it. Surely there was some cross-grained fate at work. + +She was very quiet indeed when he at length recollected himself and +roused from his reverie. He looked up to find her resting her warm, +rose-leaf colored cheek on her hand, and concentrating all her attention +upon the fire again. She was not inclined to talk when he spoke to her, +and indeed had so far shrunk within herself that he found it necessary +to exert his powers to their utmost before he could move her to anything +like interest in their usual topics of conversation. In fact, her +reserve entailed the necessity of a little hazardous warmth of manner +being exhibited on his part, and in the end a few more dangerous, +though half-jocular, speeches were made, and in spite of the temporary +dissatisfaction of his previous mood, he felt a trifle reluctant to +leave the fire and the sweet, unwise face when the time came to go. + +“Good-night,” he said to her, a few minutes before he went out. And +then, noticing for the twentieth time how becoming the soft blue of +her dress was and how picturesque she was herself even in the +unconsciousness of her posture, he was tempted to try to bring that +little, half-resentful glow into her upraised eyes again. + +“I have often heard your sister make indiscreetly amiable speeches to +you, Mollie,” he said. “Did she ever tell you that you ought to have +been born a sultana?” + +She shook her head and pouted a little. + +“I should n't like to be a sultana,” she said. + +“What!” he exclaimed. “Not a sultana in spangled slippers and gorgeous +robes!” + +“No,” she answered, with a spice of Dolly in her speech. “The slippers +are great flat things that turn up at the toes, and the sultan might buy +me for so much a pound, and--and I care for other things besides dress.” + +“Nevertheless,” he returned, “you would have made a dazzling sultana.” + +Then he went away and left her, and she sat down upon her stool before +the fire again and began to pull her hair down and let it hang in grand +disorder about her shoulders and over her face. + +“If I am so--so pretty,” she said slowly, to herself, “people ought to +like me, and,” sagaciously, “I must be pretty or he would not say so.” + +And when she went to her room it must be confessed that she crept to the +glass and stared at the reflection of the face framed in the abundant, +falling hair, until Aimée, wondering at her quietness, raised her head +from her pillow, and, seeing her, called her to her senses. + +“Mollie,” she said, in her quietest way, “you look very nice, my dear +and very picturesque, and I don't wonder at your admiring yourself; +but if you stand there much longer in your bare feet you will have +influenza, and then you will have to wear a flannel round your throat, +and your nose will be red, and you won't derive much satisfaction from +your looking-glass for a week to come.” + + + +CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + +“SOMETHING,” announced Phil, painting away industriously at his +picture,--“something is up with Grif. Can any of you explain what it +is?” + +Mollie, resting her elbows on the window-ledge, turned her head over +her shoulder; 'Toinette, tying Tod's sleeves with red ribbon, looked +up; Aimée went on with her sewing, the two little straight lines making +themselves visible on her forehead between her eyebrows. The fact of +something being “up” with any one of their circle was enough to create a +wondering interest. + +“There is no denying,” Phil proceeded, “that he is changed somehow or +other. He is not the same fellow that he was a few months ago,--before +Dolly went away.” + +“It is Dolly he is bothering about,” said Mollie, concisely. + +Then Aimée was roused. + +“I wish they were married,” she said. “I wish they were married +and--safe!” + +“Safe!” put in Mrs. Phil. “That is a queer thing to say. They are not in +any danger, let us devoutly hope.” + +The two wrinkles deepened, and the wise one sighed. + +“I hope not,” she answered, bending her small, round, anxious face over +her sewing, and attacking it vigorously. + +“They never struck me, you know,” returned Mrs. Phil, “as being a +particularly dangerous couple, though now I think of it I do remember +that it has once or twice occurred to me that Griffith has been rather +stupid lately.” + +“It has occurred to me,” remarked Phil, dryly, “that he has taken a most +unaccountable dislike to Gowan.” + +Mollie turned round to her window again. + +“Not to put it too strongly,” continued the head of the family, “he +hates him like the deuce.” + +And he was not far wrong in making the assertion. The time had been +coming for some time when the course of this unimposing story of true +love was no longer to run smooth, and in these days Griffith was in a +dangerous frame of mind. Now and then he heard of Gowan dropping in to +spend a few hours at Brabazon Lodge, and now and then he heard of his +good fortune in having found in Miss MacDowlas a positive champion. He +was even a favorite with her, just as he was a favorite with many other +people. Griffith did not visit Brabazon Lodge himself, he had given +that up long ago, indeed had only once paid his respects to his relative +since her arrival in London. That one visit, short and ceremonious as it +was, had been enough for him. Like many estimable ladies, Miss MacDowlas +had prejudices of her own which were hard to remove, and appearances had +been against her nephew. + +“If he is living a respectable life, and so engaged in a respectable +profession, my dear,” commented Dolly's proprietress, in one of her +after conversations on the subject, “why does he look shabby and out at +elbows? It is my opinion that he is a very disreputable young man.” + +“She thinks,” wrote Dolly to the victim, “that you waste your substance +in riotous living.” And it was such an exquisite satire on the true +state of affairs, that even Griffith forgot his woes for the moment, and +laughed when he read the letter. + +Dolly herself was not prone to complain of Miss MacDowlas. She was not +so bad as she looked, after all. She was obstinate and rigid enough +on some points, but she had her fairer side, and Dolly found it. In a +fashion of her own Miss MacDowlas was rather fond of her companion. +A girl who was shrewd, industrious, and often amusing, was not to be +despised in her opinion; so she showed her fair young handmaiden a +certain amount of respect. She had engaged companions before, who +being entertaining were not trustworthy, or being trustworthy were +insufferably dull. She could trust Dolly with the most onerous of her +domestic or social charges, she found, and there was no fear of her +small change disappearing or her visitors being bored. So the position +of that “young person” became an assured and decently comfortable one. + +But, day by day, Griffith was drifting nearer and nearer the old shoals +of difficulty. He rasped himself with miserable imaginings, and was +often unjust even toward Dolly. Hers was the brighter side of the +matter, he told himself. + +She was sure to find friends,--she always did, these people would make +a sort of favorite of her, and she would be pleased because she was +so popular among them. He could not bear the thought of her ephemeral +happiness over trifles sometimes. He even fell so low as that at +his worst moments, though to his credit, be it spoken, he was always +thoroughly ashamed of himself afterward. There were times, too, when +he half resented her little jokes at their poverty, and answered them +bitterly when he wrote his replies to her letters. His chief consolation +he found in Aimée, and the sage of the family found her hands fuller +than ever. Quiet little body as she was, she was far-sighted enough to +see danger in the distance, and surely she did her best to alter its +course. + +“If you are not cooler,” she would say, “you will work yourself into +such a fever of unhappiness, that you will be doing something you will +regret.” + +“That is what I am afraid of,” he would sometimes burst forth; “but you +must admit, Aimée, that it is a pretty hard case.” + +“Yes,” confessed the young oracle, “I will admit that, but being +unreasonable won't make it any easier.” + +And then the fine little lines would show themselves, and she would set +herself industriously to the task of administering comfort and practical +advice, and she never failed to cheer him a little, however temporarily. + +And she did not fail Dolly, either. Sage axioms and praiseworthy counsel +reached Brabazon Lodge in divers small envelopes, addressed to Miss +Crewe, and invariably beginning, “My dearest Dolly;” and more than once +difficulty had been averted, and Dolly's heart warmed again toward her +lover, when she had been half inclined to rebel and exhibit some slight +sharpness of temper. Only a few days after the conversation with which +the present chapter opens occurred, one of these modestly powerful +missives was forwarded, and that evening Griffith met with an agreeable +surprise. Chance had taken him into the vicinity of Miss MacDowlas's +establishment, and as he walked down the deserted road in a somewhat +gloomy frame of mind, he became conscious suddenly of the sound of +small, light feet, running rapidly down the footpath behind him. + +“Griffith!” cried a clear, softly pitched voice, “Griffith, wait for +me.” + +And, turning, he saw in the dusk of the winter day a little figure +almost flying toward him, and in a few seconds more Dolly was standing +by him, laughing and panting, and holding to his arm with both hands. + +“I thought I should never catch you,” she said. “You never walked so +fast in your life, I believe, you stupid old fellow. I could n't call +out loud, though it is a quiet place, and so I had to begin to run. +Goodness! what _would_ Lady Augusta have said if she had seen me flying +after you!” + +And then, stopping all at once, she looked up at him with a wicked +little air of saucy daring. + +“Don't you want to kiss me?” she said. “You may, if you will endeavor to +effect it with despatch before somebody comes.” + +She was obliged to resign herself to her fate then. For nearly two +minutes she found herself rendered almost invisible, and neither of them +spoke. Then half released, she lifted her face to look at him, and +there were tears on her eyelashes, and in her voice, too, though she was +trying very hard to smile. + +“Poor old fellow,” she half whispered. “Has it seemed long since you +kissed me last?” + +He caught her to his breast again in his old, impetuous fashion. + +“Long!” he groaned. “It has seemed so long that there have been times +when it has almost driven me mad. O Dolly! Dolly!” + +She let him crush her in his arms and kiss her again, and she nestled +against his shoulder for a minute, and, putting her warm little gloved +hand up to his face, gave it a tiny, loving squeeze. But of course that +could not last long. Miss Macdowlas's companion might be kissed in the +dusk two or three times, but, genteelly sequestered as was the road +leading to Brabazon Lodge, some stray footman or housemaid might appear +on the scene, from some of the neighboring establishments, at any +moment, so she was obliged to draw herself away at last. + +“There!” she said, “you must let me take your arm and walk on now, and +you must tell me all about things. I have a few minutes to spare, and I +have _so_ wanted you,” heaving a weary little sigh, and holding his arm +very tightly indeed. + +“Dolly,” he asked, abruptly, “are you sure of that?” + +The other small hand clasped itself across his sleeve in an instant. + +“Sure?” she answered. “Sure that I have wanted you? I have been nearly +_dying_ for you!” with some affectionate extravagance. + +“Are you sure,” he put it to her, “quite sure that you have not +sometimes forgotten me for an hour or so?” + +“No,” she answered, indignantly, “not for a single second;” which was a +wide assertion. + +“Not,” he prompted her, somewhat bitterly, “when the MacDowlas gives +dinner-parties, and you find yourself a prominent feature, 'young +person,' as you are? Not when you wear the white merino, and 'heavy +swells' admire you openly?” + +“No,” shaking her head in stout denial of the imputation. “Never. +I think about you from morning until night; and the fact is,” in a +charming burst of candor, “I actually wake in the night and think about +you. There! are you satisfied now?” + +It would have been impossible to remain altogether unconsoled and +unmoved under such circumstances, but he could not help trying her +again. + +“Dolly,” he said, “does Gowan never make you forget me?” + +Then she saw what he meant, and flushed up to her forehead, drawing her +hand away and speaking hotly. + +“Oh!” she said, “it is _that_, is it?” + +“Yes,” he answered her, “it is that.” + +Then they stopped in their walk, and each looked at the other,--Griffith +at Dolly, with a pale face and much of desperate, passionate appeal in +his eyes; Dolly at Griffith, with her small head thrown back in sudden +defiance. + +“I am making you angry and rousing you, Dolly,” he said; “but I cannot +help it. There is scarcely a week passes in which I do not hear that +he--that fellow--has managed to see you in one way or another. He can +always see you,” savagely. “_I_ don't see you once a month.” + +“Ah!” said Dolly, with cruel deliberation, “_this_ is what Aimée meant +when she told me to be careful, and think twice before I did things. I +see now.” + +I have never yet painted Dolly Crewe as being a young person of angelic +temperament. I have owned that she flirted and had a temper in spite of +her Vagabondian good spirits, good-nature, and popularity; so my +readers will not be surprised at her resenting rather sharply what she +considered as being her lover's lack of faith. + +“I think,” she proceeded, opening her eyes wide and addressing him with +her grandest air,--“I think I will walk the rest of my way alone, if you +please.” + +It was very absurd and very tragical in a small way, of course, and +assuredly she ought to have known better, and perhaps she did know +better, but just now she was very fierce and very sharply disappointed. +She positively turned away as if to leave him, but he caught hold of her +arm and held her. + +“Dolly,” he cried, huskily, “you are not going away in that fashion. We +never parted so in our lives.” + +She half relented,--not quite, but nearly, so very nearly that she +did not try very hard to get away. It was Griffith, after all, who was +trying her patience--if Gowan or any other man on earth had dared to +imply a doubt in her, she would have routed him magnificently--in two +minutes; but Griffith--ah, well, Griffith was different. + +“Whose fault is it?” she asked, breaking down ignominiously. “Who is +to blame? I never ask you if other people make you forget me. I wanted +to--to see you so much that I--I ran madly after you for a quarter of a +mile, at the risk of being looked upon as a lunatic by any one who might +have chanced to see me. But you don't care for that. I had better have +bowed to you and passed on if we had met. Let me go!” + +“No,” said Griffith, “you shall not go. God knows if I could keep you, +you should never leave my arms again.” + +“You would tire of me in a week, if I belonged to you in real earnest,” + she said, not trying to get away at all now, however. + +“Tire of you!” he exclaimed, in a shaken voice. “Of _you!_” And all at +once he drew her round so that the light of the nearest lamp could fall +on her face. “Look here!” he whispered, sharply; “Dolly, I swear to you, +that if there lives a man on earth base and heartless enough to rob me +of you, I will kill him as sure as I breathe the breath of life!” + +She had seen him impassioned enough often before, but she had never seen +him in as wild a mood as he was when he uttered these words. She was so +frightened that she broke into a little cry, and put her hand up to his +lips. + +“Griffith!” she said, “Grif!--dear old fellow. You don't know what you +are saying. Oh! don't--don't!” + +Her horror brought him to his senses again; but he had terrified her +so that she was trembling all over, and clung to him nervously when he +tried to console her. + +“It is n't like _you_ to speak in such a way,” she faltered, in the +midst of her tears. “Oh, how dreadfully wrong things must be getting, to +make you so cruel!” + +It took so long a time to reassure and restore her to her calmness, that +he repented his rashness a dozen times. But he managed to comfort her at +length, though to the last she was tearful and dejected, and her voice +was broken with soft, sorrowful little catchings of the breath. + +“Don't let us talk about Ralph Gowan,” she pleaded, when he +had persuaded her to walk on with him again. “Let us talk about +ourselves,--we are always safe when we talk about ourselves,” with an +innocent, mournful smile. + +And so they talked about themselves. He would have talked of anything +on earth to please her then. Talking of themselves, of course, implied +talking nonsense,--affectionate, sympathetic nonsense, but still +nonsense; and so, for a while, they strolled on together, and were as +tenderly foolish and disconnected as two people could possibly be. + +But, in spite of her resolution to avoid the subject, Dolly could not +help drifting back to Ralph Gowan. “Griffith,” she said, plaintively, +“you are very jealous of him.” + +“I know that,” he answered. + +“But don't you _know_,” in desperate appeal, “that there is n't the +slightest need for you to be jealous of anybody?” + +“I know,” he returned, dejectedly, “that I am a very wretched fellow +sometimes.” + +“Oh, dear!” sighed Dolly. + +“I know,” he went on, “that seven years is a long probation, and that +the prospect of another seven, or another two, for the matter of that, +would drive me mad. I know I am growing envious and distrustful; I +know that there are times when I hate that fellow so savagely that I am +ashamed of myself. Dolly, what has he ever done that he should saunter +on the sunny side, clad in purple and fine linen all his life? The money +he throws away in a year would furnish the house at Putney.” + +“Oh, dear!” burst forth Dolly. “You _are_ going wrong. It is all because +I am not there to take care of you, too. Those are not the sentiments of +Vagabondia, Grif.” + +“No,” dryly; “they are of the earth, earthy.” + +Dolly shook her head dolefully. + +“Yes,” she acquiesced; “and they are a bit shabby, too. You are going +down, Grif. You never used to be shabby. None of us were ever exactly +that, though we used to grumble sometimes. We used to grumble, not +because other people had things, but because we had n't them.” + +“I am getting hardened, I suppose,” bitterly. “And it is hardly to be +wondered at.” + +“Hardened!” She stopped him that moment, and stood before him, holding +his arm and looking up at him. “Hardened!” she repeated. “Grif, if you +say that again, I will never forgive you. What is the good of our love +for each other if it won't keep our hearts soft? When we get hardened we +shall love each other no longer. What have we told each other all these +years? Have n't we said that so long as we had one another we could bear +anything, and not envy other people? It was n't all talk and sentiment, +was it? It was n't on _my_ part, Grif. I meant it then, and I mean it +now, though I know there are many good, kind-hearted people in the world +who would not understand it, and would say I was talking unpractical +rubbish, if they heard me. Hardened! Grif, while you have me, and I have +you, and there is nothing on our two consciences? Why, it sounds,”--with +another most dubious shake of her small head,--“it sounds as if you +would n't care about the house at Putney!” + +He was conquered, of course; before she had spoken a dozen words he +had been conquered; but this figure of his not caring for the house at +Putney broke him utterly. He did not look very hardened when he answered +her. + +“Dolly,” he said, “you are an angel! I have told you so before, and it +may be a proof of the barrenness of my resources to tell you so again, +but it is true. God forgive me, my precious! I should like to see the +man whose heart could harden while such a woman loved him.” + +It was a pretty sight to see her put her hands on his shoulders, and +stand on tiptoe to kiss him, in her honest, earnest way, without waiting +for him to ask her. + +“Ah!” she said, “I knew it wasn't true,” and then, still letting her +hands rest on his shoulders, she burst forth in her tender, impulsive +way again. “Grif,” she said, “I don't think I am very wise, and I know +I am not very thoughtful. I do things often that it would be better +to leave undone,--I am fond of making the Philistines admire me, and I +sometimes tease you; but, dear old fellow, right deep down at the bottom +of my heart,” faltering slightly, “I do--_do_ want to be a good +woman; and there is never a night passes--though I never told you so +before--that I do not pray to God to let me help you and let you help me +to be tender and faithful and true.” + +It was the old story,--love was king. Wisdom to the winds! Practicality +to the corners of the earth! Prudence, power, and grandeur, hide your +diminished heads! Here were two people who cared nothing for you, and +who flung you aside without a fear as they stood together under the +trees in the raw evening air,--one a penniless little hired entertainer +of elderly ladies, the other an equally impecunious bondsman in a dingy +office. + +They were quite happy,--even happy when time warned them that they must +bid each other goodnight. They walked together to the gates of Barbazon +Lodge, and parted in a state of bliss. + +“Good-night,” said Dolly. “Be good,--as somebody wise once said,--'Be +good, and you will be happy.'” + +“Good-night,” answered Griffith; “but might n't he have put it the other +way, Dolly, 'Be happy, and you will be good--because you can't help +it'?” + +He had his hand on _her_ shoulder, this time, and as she laughed she put +her face down so that her soft, warm cheek nestled against it. + +“But he didn't put it that way,” she objected. “And we must take wisdom +as it comes. There! I must go now,” rather in a hurry. “Some one is +coming--see!” + +“Confound it!” he observed, devoutly. “Who is it?” + +“I don't know,” answered Dolly; “but you must let me go. Good-night, +again.” + +He released her, and she ran in through the gate, and up the gravel +walk, and so he was left to turn away and pass the intruder with an +appearance of nonchalance. And pass him he did, though whether with +successful indifference or not, one can hardly say; but in passing him +he looked up, and in looking up he recognized Ralph Gowan. + +“Going to see her,” he said, to himself, just as poor Mollie had said +the same thing, and just with the same heartburn. “The dev--But, no,” he +broke off sharply, “I won't begin again. It is as she says,--the blessed +little darling!--it is shabby to be down on him because he has the best +of it.” And he went on his way, not rejoicing, it is true, but still +trying to crush down a by no means unnatural feeling of rebellion. + + + +CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + +THE wise one sat at the window and looked out. The view commanded by +Bloomsbury Place was not a specially imposing or attractive one. Four +or five tall, dingy houses with solitary scrubby shrubs in their small +front slips of low-spirited looking gardens, four or five dingy and +tall houses without the scrubby shrubs in their small front slips of +low-spirited looking gardens, rows of Venetian blinds of various shades, +and one or two lamp-posts,--not much to enliven the prospect. + +The inhabitants of the houses in Bloomsbury Place were not prone to +sitting at their front windows, accordingly; but this special afternoon, +the weather being foggy, Aimée finding herself alone in the parlor, had +left the fire just to look at this same fog, though it was by no means a +novelty. The house was very quiet. 'Toinette was out, and so was +Mollie, and Tod was asleep, lying upon a collection of cushions on the +hearth-rug, with two fingers in his mouth, his round baby face turned up +luxuriously to catch the warmth. + +The wise one was waiting for Mollie, who had gone out a few hours before +to execute divers commissions of a domestic nature. + +“She might have been back in half the time,” murmured the family sage, +who sat on the carpet, flattening her small features against the glass. +“She might have done what she has to do in _less_ than half the time, +but I knew how it would be when she went out. She is looking in at the +shop windows and wishing for things. I wish she would n't. People stare +at her so, and I don't wonder. I am sure I cannot help watching her +myself, sometimes. She grows prettier every day of her life, and she is +beginning to know that she does, too.” + +Five minutes after this the small face was drawn away from the +window-pane with a sigh of relief. + +“There she is now. What a time she has been! Who is with her, I wonder? +I cannot see whether it is Phil or Mr. Gowan, it is getting so dark. It +must be Mr. Gowan. 'Toinette would be with them if it was Phil.” + +“Why, Mollie,” she exclaimed, when the door opened, “I saw somebody with +you, and I thought it was Mr. Gowan. Why did n't he come in? Don't waken +Tod.” + +Mollie came in rather hurriedly, and going to the fire knelt down before +it, holding out her hands to warm them. Her cheeks were brilliant with +color and her eyes were bright; altogether, she looked a trifle excited. + +“It was n't Mr. Gowan,” she answered. “Ugh! how cold it is,--not frosty, +you know, but that raw sort of cold, Aimée. I would rather have the +frost myself, would n't you?” + +But Aimée was not thinking of the weather. + +“Not Mr. Gowan!” she ejaculated. “Who was it, then?” + +Mollie crept nearer to the fire and gave another little shudder. + +“It was--somebody else,” she returned, with a triumphant little +half-laugh. “Guess who!” + +“Who!” repeated Aimée. “Somebody else! It was not any one I know.” + +“It was somebody Phil knows.” + +The wise one arose and came to the fire herself. + +“It was some one taller than Brown!” + +“Brown!” echoed Mollie, with an air of supreme contempt. “He is _twice_ +as tall. Brown is only about five feet high, and he wears an overcoat +ten times too big for him, and it flaps--yes, it _flaps_ about +his odious little heels. I should think it wasn't Brown. It was a +gentleman.” + +The wise one regarded her pretty, scornful face dubiously. + +“Brown is n't so bad as all that implies, Mollie,” she said. “His coat +is the worst part of him. But if it was n't Brown and it was n't Mr. +Gowan, who was it?” + +Mollie laughed and shrugged her shoulders again, and then looked up at +her small inquisitor charmingly defiant. + +“It was--Mr. Chandos!” she confessed. + +Aimée gazed at her for a moment in blank amazement. + +“But,” she objected, “you don't know him any more than I do. You +have only seen him once through the window, and you have never been +introduced to him.” + +“I have seen him twice,” said Mollie. “Don't you recollect my telling +you that he picked up my glove for me the night I carried Dolly's dress +to Bra-bazon Lodge, and,” faltering a little and dropping her eyes, “he +introduced himself to me. He met me in town. I was passing through the +Arcade, and he stopped to ask about Phil. He apologized, of course, you +know, for doing it, but he said he was very anxious to know when Phil +would be at home, and--and perhaps I would be so kind as to tell him. He +wants to see him about a picture. And--then, you know, somehow or other, +he said something else, and--and I answered him--and he walked to the +gate with me.” + +“He took a great liberty,” said Aimée. “And it was very imprudent in you +to let him come. I don't know what you could be thinking of. The idea of +picking up people in the street like that, Mollie; you must be crazy.” + +“I could n't help it,” returned Mollie, not appearing at all disturbed. +“He knows Phil and he knows Dolly--a little. And he is very nice. He +wants to know us all. And he says Mr. Gowan is one of his best friends. +I liked him myself.” + +“I dare say you did,” despairingly. “You are such a child. You would +like the man in the moon or a Kaffre chief--” + +“That is not true,” interposed the delinquent. “I don't know about +the man in the moon. He might be well enough--at any rate, he would +be travelled and a novelty, but Kaffre chiefs are odious. Don't you +remember those we saw last winter?” + +“Mollie,” said Aimée, “you are only jesting because you are ashamed of +yourself. You _know_ you were wrong to let that man come home with you.” + +Then Mollie hung her head and made a lovely rebellious move. + +“I don't care,” she said; “if it was n't exactly correct, it was nice. +But that is always the way,” indignantly, “nice things are always +improper.” + +Here was a defection for you. The oracle quite shuddered in her discreet +disapproval. + +“If you go on in that way,” she said, “you will be ending by saying that +improper things are always nice.” + +“Never mind how I end,” observed the prisoner at the bar. “You have +ended by wakening Tod;” which remark terminated the conversation +somewhat abruptly. + +A day or so later came Chandos--upon business, so he said, but he +remained much longer than his errand rendered necessary, and by some +chance or other it came to pass that Phil brought him into the parlor, +and introduced him to their small circle, in his usual amiable, informal +manner. Then he was to be seen fairly, and prepossessing enough he was. +Mollie, sitting in her corner in the blue dress, and looking exquisite +and guileless, was very demurely silent at first; but in due time Aimée +began to see that she was being gradually drawn out, and at last the +drawing out was such a success, subtle as it was, that she became quite +a prominent feature in the party, and made so many brilliant speeches +without blushing, that the family eyes began to be opened to the fact +that she was really a trifle older than she had been a few years ago, +after all. The idea had suggested itself to them faintly on one or two +occasions of late, and they were just beginning to grasp it, though +they were fully as much startled as they would have been if Tod had +unexpectedly roused himself from his infantile slumbers, and mildly but +firmly announced his intention of studying for the ministry or entering +a political contest. + +Aimée was dumbfounded. She had not expected this. She was going to have +her hands full, it was plain. She scarcely wondered now at her discovery +of two evenings before. And then she glanced slyly across the room +again, and took it all in once more,--Mollie, bewitching in all the +novelty of her small effort at coquetry; Chandos, leading her on, and +evidently enjoying the task he had set himself intensely. + +It was quite a new Mollie who was left to them after their visitor was +gone. There was a touch of triumph and excitement in the pretty flushed +face, and a ghost of defiance in the brown eyes. She was not quite sure +that young Dame Prudence would not improve the occasion with a short +homily. + +So she was a trifle restless. First she stood at the window humming an +air, then she came to the table and turned over a few sketches, then she +knelt down on pretence of teasing Tod. + +But impulse was too much for her. She forgot Tod in a few minutes +and fell into a sitting position, folding her hands idly on the blue +garment. + +“I knew he would come,” she said, abstractedly. Then Dame Prudence +addressed her. + +“Did you?” she remarked. “How did you?” + +She started and blushed up to her ears. + +“How?” she repeated. “Oh, I knew!” + +“Perhaps he told you he would,” put in Dame P. “Did he?” + +“Aimée,” was the rather irrelevant reply, rather suddenly made, “do you +like him?” + +“I never judge people,” primly enunciated, “upon first acquaintance. +First impressions are rarely to be relied upon.” + +“That 's a nice speech,” in her elder sister's most shockingly flippant +manner, “and it sounds well, but I have heard it before--thousands of +times. People always say it when they want to be specially disagreeable, +and would like to cool you down. There is the least grain of Lady +Augusta in you, Aimée.” + +“And considering that Lady Augusta is the most unpleasant person we +know, _that_ is a nice speech,” returned the oracle. + +“Oh, well, I only said 'a grain,' and a grain is not much.” + +“It is quite enough.” + +“Well,” amiably, “suppose we say half a grain.” + +“Suppose we say you are talking nonsense.” + +Mollie's air was Dolly's own as she answered her,--people always said +she was like Dolly, despite the fact that Dolly was not a beauty at all. + +“There may be something in that,” she said. + +“Suppose we admit it and return to the subject. Do you think he is nice, +Aimée?” + +“Do you?” + +“Yes, I do,” but without getting rose-colored this time. + +Aimée looked at her calmly, but with some quiet scrutiny in her glance. + +“As nice,” she put it to her,--“as nice as Ralph Gowan?” + +She grew rose-colored then in an instant up to her ears again and over +them, and she turned her face aside and plucked at the hearth-rug with +nervous fingers. + +“Well?” suggested Aimée. + +“He is as handsome and--as tall, and he dresses as well.” + +“Do you like him as well?” said Aimée. + +“Ye-es--no. I have not known him long enough to tell you.” + +“Well,” returned Aimée, “let me tell you. As I said before, I do not +think it wise to judge people from first impressions, but this I do +know, _I_ don't like him as I like Mr. Gowan, and I never shall. He is +not to be relied upon, that Gerald Chandos; I saw it in his eyes.” + +And she set her chin upon her hand, and her small, round, fair face +covered itself all at once with an anxious cloud. + +She kept a quiet watch upon Mollie after this, and in the weeks that +followed she was puzzled, and not only puzzled, but baffled outright +many a time. This first visit of Mr. Gerald Chandos was not his last. +His business brought him again and again, and when the time came that he +had no pretence of business, he was on sufficiently familiar terms with +them all to make calls of pleasure. So he did just as Ralph Gowan had +done, slipped into his groove of friend and acquaintance unobtrusively, +and was made welcome as other people were,--just as any sufficiently +harmless individual would have been under the same circumstances. +There was no dragon of high renown to create social disturbances in +Vagabondia. + +“As long as a man behaves himself, where's the odds?” said Phil; and no +one ever disagreed with him. + +But Mr. Gerald Chandos had not been to the house more than three times +before Aimée found cause to wonder. She discovered that Ralph Gowan was +not so enthusiastically attached to him, after all; and furthermore +she had her reasons for thinking that Gowan was rather disturbed at +his advent, and would have preferred that he had not been adopted so +complacently. + +“If Dolly was at home,” she said to herself, “I should be inclined to +fancy he was a trifle jealous; and if he cared just a little more for +Mollie, I might think he was jealous; but Dolly is away, and though he +is fond of Mollie, and thinks her pretty, he does n't care for her in +that way exactly, so there must be some other reason. He is not the sort +of person to have likes or dislikes without reason.” + +In her own sage style she approved of Ralph Gowan just as she approved +of Griffith. And then, as I have said, Mollie puzzled her. It was +astonishing how the child altered, and how she began to bloom out, and +adopt independent, womanly airs and graces. She took a new and important +position in the household. From her post of observation the wise one +found herself looking on with a smile sometimes, there was such a +freshness in her style of enacting the _rôle_ of beauty. She struck +Phil's friends dumb now and then with her conscious power, and the +unhappy Brown suffered himself to be led captive without a struggle. + +“Her 'prentice han' she tried on Brown,” Dolly had said, months before, +in a wretched attempt at parody; and certainly the tortures of Brown +were prolonged and varied. But it was her manner toward Chandos that +puzzled Aimée. Perhaps she was a trifle proud of his evident +admiration; at all events, she seemed far from averse to it, and the +incomprehensible part of the affair was that sometimes she allowed him +to rival even Ralph Gowan. + +“And yet,” commented Aimée, “she likes Ralph Gowan better. She never can +help blushing and looking conscious when he comes or when he talks to +her, and she is as cool as Dolly when she finds herself with Chandos. It +is very odd.” + +It was not so easy to manage her as it used to be, Ralph Gowan +discovered. She was growing capricious and fanciful, and ready to take +offence. If they were left alone together, she would change her mood +every two minutes. Sometimes she would submit to his old jesting, +gallant speeches quite humbly and shyly for a while, and then she would +flame out all at once in anger, half a woman's and half a child's. He +was inclined to fancy now and then that she had never forgiven him for +his first interference on the subject of Gerald Chandos, for at the +early part of the acquaintance he did interfere, as he had promised +Dolly he would. + +“I am not glad to see that fellow here, Mollie,” he had said, the first +night he met him at the house. + +She stood erect before him, with her white throat straight, and a spark +in her eyes. + +“What fellow?” she asked. + +“Chandos,” he answered, coolly and briefly. + +“Oh!” she returned. “How is it that when one man dislikes another he +always speaks of him as 'that fellow'? I know some one who always refers +to you as 'that fellow.'” + +“Do you?” dryly, as before. He knew very well whom she meant. + +“_I_ am glad to see 'that fellow' here,” she went on. “He is a +gentleman, and he is n't stupid. No one else comes here who is so +amusing. I am tired of Brown & Company.” + +“Ah!” he answered, biting his lip. He felt the rebuff, if it was +only Mollie who gave it. “Very well then, if you are tired of Brown & +Company, and would prefer to enter into partnership with Chandos, it is +none of my business, I suppose. I will give you one warning, however, +because I promised your sister to take care of you.” Her skin flamed +scarlet at that. “That fellow is not a gentleman exactly, and he is a +very dangerous acquaintance for any woman to make.” + +“He is a friend of yours,” she interrupted. + +“That is a natural mistake on your part,” he replied,--“natural, but +still a mistake. He is _not_ a friend of mine. As I before observed, he +is not exactly a gentleman--not to put too fine a point upon it--from a +moral point of view. We won't discuss the matter further.” + +They had parted bad friends that night. Mollie was restive under his +cool decisiveness for various reasons; he was irritated because he felt +he had failed, and had lost ground instead of gaining it. So sometimes +since, he had fancied that she had not wholly forgiven him, and yet +there were times when she was so softly submissive that he felt himself +in some slight danger of being as much touched and as fairly bewitched +as he was when Dolly turned her attention to him. Still she was +frequently far from amiable, and upon more than one occasion he found +her not precisely as polite as she might have been. + +“You are not as amiable, Mollie,” he said to her once, “as you used +to be. We were very good friends in the old days. I suppose you are +outgrowing me. I should be afraid to offer you a bunch of camellias now +as a token of my affection.” + +He smiled down at her indolently as he said it, and before he had +finished he began to feel uncomfortable. Her eyelids drooped and her +head drooped, and she looked sweetly troubled. + +“I know I am not as good as I used to be,” she admitted. “I know it +without being told. Sometimes,” very suddenly, “I think I must be +growing awfully wicked.” + +“Well,” he commented, “at least one must admit that is a promising state +of mind, and augurs well for future repentance.” + +She shook her head. + +“No, it doesn't,” she answered him, “and that is the bad side of it. I +am getting worse every day of my life.” + +“Is it safe,” he suggested, cynically,--“is it safe for an innocent +individual to cultivate your acquaintance? Would it not be a good plan +to isolate yourself from society until you feel that the guileless ones +may approach you without fear of contamination? You alarm me.” + +She lifted up her head, her eyes flashing. + +“_You_ are safe,” she said; “so it is rather premature to cry 'wolf' so +soon.” + +“It is very plain that you are outgrowing me,” he returned. “Dolly +herself could not have made a more scathing remark.” + +But, fond as he was of tormenting her, he did not want to try her +too far, and so he endeavored to make friends. But his efforts at +reconciliation were not a success. She was not to be coaxed into her +sweet mood again; indeed she almost led him to fear that he had wounded +her irreparably by his jests. And yet, when he at last consulted his +watch, and went to the side-table for his hat and gloves, he turned +round to find her large eyes following him in a wistful sort of way. + +“Are you going?” she asked him at length, a half-reluctant appeal in her +voice. + +“I am due at Brabazon Lodge now,” he answered. + +She said no more after that, but relapsed into silence, and let him go +without making an effort to detain him, receiving his adieus in her most +indifferent style. + +But she was cross and low-spirited when he was gone, and Aimée, coming +into the room with her work, found her somewhat hard to deal with, and +indeed was moved to tell her so. + +“You are a most inexplicable girl, Mollie,” she said. “What crotchet is +troubling you now?” + +“No crotchet at all,” she answered, and then all at once she got up and +stood before the mantel-glass, looking at herself fixedly. “Aimée,” she +said, “if you were a man, would you admire me?” + +Aimée gave her a glance, and then answered her with sharp frankness. +“Yes, I should,” she said. + +She remained standing for a few minutes, taking a survey of herself, +front view, side view, and even craning her pretty throat to get a +glimpse of her back; and then a pettish sigh burst from her, and she sat +down again at her sister's feet, clasping her hands about her knees in a +most unorthodox position. + +“I should like to have a great deal of money,” she said after a while, +and she frowned as she said it. + +“That is a startling observation,” commented Aimée, “and shows great +singularity of taste.” + +Mollie frowned again, and shrugged one shoulder, but otherwise gave the +remark small notice. + +“I should like,” she proceeded, “to have a carriage, and to live in a +grand house, and go to places. I should like to marry somebody rich.” + And having blurted out this last confession, she looked half ashamed of +herself. + +“Mollie,” said Aimée, solemnly dropping her hands and her work upon her +lap, “I am beginning to feel as Dolly does; I am beginning to be afraid +you are going to get yourself into serious trouble.” + +Then this overgrown baby of theirs, who had so suddenly astonished +them all by dropping her babyhood and asserting herself a woman, said +something so startling that the wise one fairly lost her breath. + +“If I cannot get what I want,” she said, deliberately, “I will take what +I can get.” + +“You are going out of your mind,” ejaculated Aimée. + +“It does n't matter if I am,” cried the romantic little goose, +positively crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and +flinging herself upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,--“it does n't +matter if I am. Who cares for _me_?” + + + +CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + +THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her +small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject +revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the +parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely +announcing her intention of going to see Dolly. + +“What are you going for?” said Mrs. Phil. + +“Rather sudden, is n't it?” commented Mollie. + +“I 'm going on business,” returned Aimée, and she buttoned her gloves +and took her departure, without enlightening them further. + +Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss MacDowlas out and Dolly +sitting alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and +tears in her eyes. + +Her visitor walked to the hearth, her face wrinkling portentously, and +kissed her with an air of affectionate severity. + +“I don't know,” she began, comprehending matters at a glance, “I am sure +I don't know what I am to do with you all. _You_ are in trouble now.” + +“Take off your things,” said Dolly, with a helpless little sob, +“and--and then I will tell you all about it. You must stay and have +tea with me. Miss MacDowlas is away, and I--am all alone, and--and, O +Aimée!” + +The hat and jacket were laid aside in two minutes, and Aimée came back +to her and knelt down. + +“Is there anything in your letter you do not want me to see?” she asked. + +“No,” answered Dolly, in despair, and tossed it into her lap. + +It was no new story, but this time the Fates seemed to have conspired +against her more maliciously than usual. A few days before Grif had +found himself terribly dashed in spirit, and under the influence of +impulse had written to her. Two or three times in one day he had heard +accidental comments upon Gowan's attentions to her, and on his return to +his lodgings at night he had appealed to her in a passionate epistle. + +He was not going to doubt her again, he said, and he was struggling to +face the matter coolly, but he wanted to see her. It would be worse than +useless to call upon her at the Lodge, and have an interview under the +disapproving eyes of Miss MacDowlas, and so he had thought they might +meet again by appointment, as they had done before by chance. And Dolly +had acquiesced at once. But Fortune was against her. Just as she had +been ready to leave the house, Ralph Gowan had made his appearance, and +Miss MacDowlas had called her down-stairs to entertain him. + +“I would not have cared about telling,” cried Dolly, in tears, “but I +could not tell her, and so I had to stay, and--actually--_sing_--Aimée. +Yes, sing detestable love-sick songs, while my own darling, whom I was +_dying_ to go to, was waiting outside in the cold. And that was not the +worst, either. He was just outside in the road, and when the servants +lighted the gas he saw me through the window. And I was at the +piano”--in a burst--“and Ralph Gowan was standing by me. And so he went +home and wrote _that_,” signifying with a gesture the letter Aimée held. +“And everything is wrong again.” + +It was very plain that everything _was_ wrong again. The epistle in +question was an impetuous, impassioned effusion enough. He was furious +against Gowan, and bitter against everybody else. She had cheated and +slighted and trifled with him when he most needed her love and pity; but +he would not blame her, he could only blame himself for being such an +insane, presumptuous fool as to fancy that anything he had to offer +could be worthy of any woman. + +What had he to offer, etc., for half a dozen almost illegible pages, +dashed and crossed, and all on fire with his bitterness and pain. + +Having taken it from Aimée, and read it for the twentieth time, Dolly +fairly wrung her hands over it. + +“If we were only just _together!_” she cried. “If we only just had the +tiniest, shabbiest house in the world, and could be married and help +each other! He does n't mean to be unjust or unkind, you know, Aimée; he +would be more wretched than I am if he knew how unhappy he has made me.” + +“Ah!” sighed Aimée. “He should think of that before he begins.” + +Then she regained possession of the letter, and smoothed out its creases +on her knee, finishing by folding it carefully and returning it to its +envelope, looking very grave all the time. + +“Will you lend me this?” she said at last, holding the epistle up. + +“What are you going to do with it?” asked Dolly, disconsolately. + +“I am going to ask Griffith to read it again. I shall be sure to see him +to-morrow night.” + +“Very well,” answered Dolly; “but don't be too hard upon him, Aimée. He +has a great deal to bear.” + +“I know that,” said Aimée. “And sometimes he bears it very well; but +just now he needs a little advice.” + +Troubled as she was, Dolly laughed at the staid expression on her small, +discreet face; but even as she laughed she caught the child in her arms +and kissed her. + +“What should we do without you!” she exclaimed. “We need some one to +keep us all straight, we Vagabonds; but it seems queer that such a small +wiseacre as you should be our controlling power.” + +The mere sight of the small wiseacre had a comforting effect upon her. +Her spirits began to rise, and she so far recovered herself as to be +able to look matters in the face more cheerfully. There was so much +to talk about, and so many questions to ask, that it would have been +impossible to remain dejected and uninterested. It was not until after +tea, however, that Aimée brought her “business” upon the carpet. She had +thought it best not to introduce the subject during the earlier part +of the evening; but when the tea-tray was removed, and they found +themselves alone again, she settled down, and applied herself at once to +the work before her. + +“I have not told you yet what I came here for this afternoon,” she said. + +“You don't mean to intimate that you did not come to see me!” said +Dolly. + +“I came to see you, of course,” decidedly; “but I came to see you for a +purpose. I came to talk to you about Mollie.” + +Dolly almost turned pale. + +“Mollie!” she exclaimed. “What is the trouble about Mollie?” + +“Something that puzzles me,” was the answer. “Dolly, do you know +anything about Gerald Chandos?” + +“What!” said Dolly. “It is Gerald Chandos, is it? He is not a fit +companion for her, I know that much.” + +And then she repeated, word for word, the conversation she had had with +Ralph Gowan. + +Having listened to the end, Aimée shook her head. + +“I like Mr. Gowan well enough,” she said, “but he has been the cause of +a great deal of trouble among us, without meaning to be, and I am afraid +it is not at an end yet.” + +They were both silent for a few moments after this, and then Dolly, +looking up, spoke with a touch of reluctance. + +“I dare say you can answer me a question I should like to ask you?” she +said. + +“If it is about Mollie, I think I can,” Aimée returned. + +“You have been with her so long,” Dolly went on, two tiny lines showing +themselves upon _her_ forehead this time, “and you are so quick at +seeing things, that you must know what there is to know. And yet it +hardly seems fair to ask. Ralph Gowan goes to Bloomsbury Place often, +does he not?” + +“He goes very often, and he seems to care more for Mollie than for any +of the rest of us.” + +“Aimée,” Dolly said next, “does--this is my question--does Mollie care +for him?” + +“Yes, she does,” answered Aimée. “She cares for him so much that she is +making herself miserable about him.” + +“Oh, dear!” cried Dolly. “What--” + +Aimée interrupted her. + +“And that is not the worst. The fact is, Dolly, I don't know what to +make of her. If it was any one but Mollie, or if Mollie was a bit less +innocent and impetuous, I should not be so much afraid; but sometimes +she is angry with herself, and sometimes she is angry with him, and +sometimes she is both, and then I should not be surprised at her doing +anything innocent and frantic. Poor child! It is my impression she has +about half made up her mind to the desperate resolve of making a grand +marriage. She said as much the other night, and I think that is why she +encourages Mr. Chandos.” + +“Oh, dear,” cried Dolly, again. “And does she think he wants to marry +her?” + +“She knows he makes violent love to her, and she is not worldly-wise +enough to know that Lord Burleighs are out of date.” + +“Out of date!” said Dolly; “I doubt if they ever were in date. Men like +Mr. Gerald Chandos would hesitate at marrying Venus from Bloomsbury +Place.” + +“If it was Ralph Gowan,” suggested Aimée. + +“But Ralph Gowan is n't like Chandos,” Dolly returned, astutely. “He is +worth ten thousand of him. I wish he would fall in love with Mollie and +marry her. Poor Mollie! Poor, pretty, headlong little goose! What are we +to do with her?” + +“Mr. Gowan is very fond of her, in a way,” said Aimée. “If he did not +care a little for you--” + +“I wish he did not!” sighed Dolly. “But it serves me right,” with +candor. “He would never have thought of me again if I--well, if I had +n't found things so dreadfully dull at that Bilberry clan gathering.” + +“'If,'” moralized Aimée, significantly. “'If' is n't a wise word, and +it often gets you into trouble, Dolly. If you hadn't, it would have been +better for Grif, as well; but what cannot be cured must be endured.” + +Their long talk ended, however, in Dolly's great encouragement. It was +agreed that the family oracle was to bring Griffith to his senses by +means of some slight sisterly reproof, and that she was to take Mollie +in hand discreetly at once and persuade her to enter the confessional. + +“She has altered a great deal, and has grown much older and more +self-willed lately,” said Aimée; “but if I am very straightforward and +take her by surprise, I scarcely think she will be able to conceal much +from me, and, at least, I shall be able to show her that her fancies are +romantic and unpractical.” + +She did not waste any time before applying herself to her work, when she +went home. Instead of going to Bloomsbury Place at once, she stopped at +Griffith's lodgings on her way, and rather scandalized his landlady by +requesting to be shown into his parlor. Only the grave simplicity of the +small, slight figure in its gray cloak, and the steadfast seriousness +in the pretty face reconciled the worthy matron to the idea of admitting +her without investigation. But Aimée bore her scrutiny very calmly. +The whole family of them had taken tea in the little sitting-room with +Griffith, upon one or two occasions, so she was not at all at a loss, +although she did not find herself recognized. + +“I am one of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said; and that, of course, +was quite enough. Mrs. Cripps knew Mr. Crewe as well as she knew Grif +himself, so she stepped back into the narrow passage at once, and even +opened the parlor door, and announced the visitor in a way that made +poor Grif s heart beat. + +“One of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said. + +He had been sitting glowering over the fire, with his head on his hands +and his elbows on his knees, and when he started up he looked quite +haggard and dishevelled. Was it--_could_ it be Dolly? He knew it could +not be, but he turned pale at the thought. It would have been such +rapture, in his present frame of mind, to have poured out his misery and +distrust, and then to have clasped her to his heart before she had +time to explain. He was just in that wretched, passionate, relenting, +remorseful stage. + +But it was only Aimée, in her gray cloak; and as the door closed behind +her, that small person advanced toward him, crumpling her white forehead +and looking quite disturbed at the mere sight of him. She held up a +reproachful finger at him warningly. + +“I knew it would be just this way,” she said. “And you are paler and +more miserable than ever. If you and Dolly would just be more practical +and reason more for each other, instead of falling headlong into +quarrels and making everything up headlong every ten minutes, how much +better it would be for you! If I was not so fond of you both, you would +be the greatest trials I have.” + +He was so glad to see the thoughtful, womanly little creature, that +he could have caught her up in his arms, gray cloak and all, and have +kissed her only a tithe less impetuously than he would have kissed +Dolly. He was one of the most faithful worshippers at her shrine, +and her pretty wisdom and unselfishness had won her many. He drew the +easiest chair up to the fire for her, and made her sit down and warm +her feet on the fender, while she talked to him, and he listened to her +every word, as he always did. + +“I have been to see Dolly,” she said, “and I found her crying,--all by +herself and crying.” And she paused to note the effect of her words. + +His heart gave a great thump. It always did give a hard thump when he +thought of Dolly as she looked when she cried,--a soft, limp little +bundle of pathetic prettiness, covering her dear little face in her +hands, shedding such piteous, impassioned tears, and refusing to be +kissed or comforted. Dolly sobbing on his shoulder was so different from +the coquettish, shrewd, mock-worldly Dolly other people saw. + +Aimée put her hand into her dress-pocket under the gray cloak and +produced her letter,--took it out of its envelope, laid it on her knee, +and smoothed out its creases again. + +“She was crying over this letter,” she proceeded,--“your letter; the one +you wrote to her when I think you cannot have been quite calm enough to +write anything. I think you cannot have read it over before sending it +away. It is always best to read a letter _twice_ before posting it. So +I have brought it to you to read again, and there it is,” giving it to +him. + +He burst forth with the story of his wrongs, of course, then. He could +not keep it in any longer. Things had gone wrong with him in every way +before this had happened, he said, and he had longed so for just one +hour in which Dolly could comfort him and try to help him to pluck up +spirits again, and she had written to him a tender little letter, and +promised to give him that hour, and he had been so full of impatience +and love, and he had gone to the very gates and waited like a beggar +outside, lest he should miss her by any chance, and the end of his +waiting had been that he had caught a glimpse of the bright, warm room, +and the piano, and Dolly with Gowan bending over her as if she had no +other lover in the world. He told it all in a burst, clenching his hand +and scarcely stopping for breath; but when he ended he dashed the letter +down, pushed his chair round, and dropped his head on his folded arms on +the table, with a wild, tearing sob. + +“It is no fault of hers,” he cried, “and it was only the first sting +that made me reproach her. I shall never do it again. She is only in the +right, and that fellow is in the right when he tells himself that he +can take better care of her and make her happier than I can. I will be a +coward no longer,--not an hour longer. I will give her up to-night. She +will learn to love him--he is a gentleman at least--if I were in +his place I should never fear that she would not learn in time, and +forget--and forget the poor, selfish beggar who would have died for her, +and yet was not man enough to control the jealous rage that tortured +her. I 'll give her up. I'll give it all up--but, oh! my God! Dolly, +the--the little house, and--and the dreams I have had about it!” + +Aimée was almost in despair. This was not one of his ordinary moods; +this was the culminating point,--the culmination of all his old +sufferings and pangs. He had been working slowly toward this through +all the old unhappiness and self-reproach. The constant droppings of the +bygone years had worn away the stone at last, and he could not bear much +more. Aimée was frightened now. Her habit of forethought showed her +all this in a very few seconds. His nervous, highly strung, impassioned +temperament had broken down at last. Another blow would be too much for +him. If she could not manage to set him right now and calm him, and if +things went wrong again, she was secretly conscious of feeling that the +consequences could not be foreseen. There was nothing wild and rash and +wretched he might not do. + +She got up and went to him, and leaned upon the table, clasping her +cool, firm little hand upon his hot, desperate one. A woman of fifty +could not have had the power over him that this slight, inexperienced +little creature had. Her childish face caught color and life and +strength in her determination to do her best for these two whom she +loved so well. Her small-boned, fragile figure deceived people into +undervaluing her reserve forces; but there was mature feeling and +purpose enough in her to have put many a woman three times her age to +shame. The light, cool touch of her hand soothed and controlled Griffith +from the first, and when she put forth all her powers of reasoning, and +set his trouble before him in a more practical and less headlong way, +not a word was lost upon him. She pictured Dolly to him just as she had +found her holding his letter in her hand, and she pictured her too as +she had really been the night he watched her through the window,--not +staying because she cared for Gowan, but because circumstances had +forced her to remain when she was longing in her own impetuous pretty +way to fly to him, and give him the comfort he needed. And she gave +Dolly's story in Dolly's own words, with the little sobs between, and +the usual plentiful sprinkling of sweet, foolish, loving epithets, +and--with innocent artfulness--made her seem so charming and +affectionate, a little centre-figure in the picture she drew, that no +man with a heart in his breast could have resisted her, and by the +time Aimée had finished, Grif was so far moved that it seemed a sheer +impossibility to speak again of relinquishing his claims. + +But he could not regain his spirits sufficiently to feel able to say +very much. He quieted down, but he was still down at heart and crushed +in feeling, and could do little else but listen in a hopeless sort of +way. + +“I will tell you what you shall do,” Aimée said at last. “You shall see +Dolly yourself,--not on the street, but just as you used to see her +when she was at home. She shall come home some afternoon. I know Miss +MacDowlas will let her,--and you shall sit in the parlor together, Grif, +and make everything straight, and begin afresh.” + +He could not help being roused somewhat by such a prospect. The cloud +was lifted for one instant, even if it fell upon him again the next. + +“I shall have to wait a week,” he said. “Old Flynn has asked me to go +to Dartmouth, to attend to some business for him, and I leave here +to-morrow morning.” + +“Very well!” she answered. “If we must wait a week, we must; but you can +write to Dolly in the interval, and settle upon the day, and then she +can speak to Miss MacDowlas.” + +He agreed to the plan at once, and promised to write to Dolly that very +night. So the young peacemaker's mind was set at rest upon this subject, +at least, and after giving him a trifle more advice, and favoring him +with a few more sage axioms, she prepared to take her departure. + +“You may put on your hat and take me to the door; but you had better not +come in if you are going to finish your letter before the post closes,” + she said; “but the short walk will do you good, and the night-air will +cool you.” + +She bade him good-night at the gate when they reached Bloomsbury Place, +and she entered the house with her thoughts turning to Mollie. Mollie +had been out, too, it seemed. When she went up-stairs to their bedroom, +she found her there, standing before the dressing-table, still with her +hat on, and looking in evident preoccupation at something she held in +her hand. Hearing Aimée, she started and turned round, dropping her hand +at her side, but not in time to hide a suspicious glitter which caught +her sister's eye. Here was a worse state of affairs than ever. She had +something to hide, and she had made up her mind to hide it. She stood up +as Aimée approached, looking excited and guilty, but still half-defiant, +her lovely head tossed back a little and an obstinate curve on her red +lips. But the oracle was not to be daunted. She confronted her with +quite a stern little air. + +“Mollie,” she began at once, without the least hesitation,--“Mollie, you +have just this minute hidden something from me, and I should n't have +thought you could do it.” + +Mollie put her closed hand behind her. + +“_If_ I am hiding something,” she answered, “I am not hiding it without +reason.” + +“No,” returned Dame Prudence, severely, “you are not. You have a very +good reason, I am afraid. You are ashamed of yourself, and you know you +are doing wrong. You have got a secret, which you are keeping from _me_, +Mollie,” bridling a little in the prettiest way. “I didn't think you +would keep a secret from _me_.” + +Mollie, very naturally, was overpowered. She looked a trifle ashamed of +herself, and the tears came into her eyes. She drew her hand from behind +her back, and held it out with a half-pettish, half-timid gesture. + +“There!” she said; “if you must see it.” + +And there, on her pink palm, lay a shining opal ring. + +“And,” said Aimée, looking at it without offering to touch it, and then +looking at her,--“and Mr. Gerald Chandos gave it to you?” + +“Yes, Mr. Gerald Chandos did,” trying to brave it out, but still +appearing the reverse of comfortable. “And you think it proper,” + proceeded her inquisitor, “to accept such presents from a gentleman who +cares nothing for you?” + +Care nothing for her! Mollie drew herself upright, with the air of a +Zenobia. She had had too few real love affairs not to take arms at once +at such an imputation cast upon her prowess. + +“He cares enough for me to want me to marry him,” she said, and then +stopped and looked as if she could have bitten her tongue off for +betraying her. + +Aimée sat down in the nearest chair and stared at her, as if she doubted +the evidence of her senses. + +“To do what?” she demanded. + +There was no use in trying to conceal the truth any longer. Mollie saw +that much; and besides this, her feelings were becoming too strong for +her from various causes. The afternoon had been an exciting one to her, +too. So, all at once, so suddenly that Aimée was altogether unprepared +for the outbreak, she gave way. The ring fell unheeded on to the carpet, +slipped from her hand and rolled away, and the next instant she went +down upon her knees, hiding her face on her arms on Aimée's lap, and +began to cry hysterically. + +“It--it is to be quite a secret,” she sobbed. “I would not tell anybody +but you, and I dare not tell you quite all, but he _has_ asked me to +marry him, Aimée, and I have--I have said yes.” And then she cried more +than ever, and caught Aimée's hand, and clung to it with a desperate, +childish grasp, as if she was frightened. + +It was very evident that she was frightened, too. All the newly assumed +womanliness was gone. It was the handsome, inexperienced, ignorant +child Mollie she had known all her life who was clinging to her, Aimée +felt,--the pretty, simple, thoughtless Mollie they had all admired and +laughed at, and teased and been fond of. She seemed to have become a +child again all at once, and she was in trouble and desperate, it was +plain. + +“But the very idea!” exclaimed Aimée, inwardly; “the bare idea of her +having the courage to engage herself to him!” + +“I never heard such a thing in my life,” she said, aloud. “Oh, Mollie! +Mollie! what induced you to give him such a mad answer? You don't care +for him.” + +“He--he would not take any other answer, and he is as nice as any one +else,” shamefacedly. “He is nicer than Brown and the others, and--I do +like him--a little,” but a tiny shudder crept over her, and she held her +listener's hand more tightly. + +“As nice as any one else!” echoed Aimée, indignantly. “Nicer than Brown! +You ought to be in leading-strings!” with pathetic hopelessness. “That +was n't your only reason, Mollie.” + +The hat with the short crimson feather had been unceremoniously pushed +off, and hung by its elastic upon Mollie's neck; the pretty curly hair +was all crushed into a heap, and the flushed, tear-wet face was hidden +in the folds of Aimée's dress. There was a charming, foolish, fanciful +side to Mollie's desperation, as there was to all her moods. + +“That was not your only reason,” repeated Aimée. + +One impetuous, unhappy little sob, and the poor simple child confessed +against her will. + +“Nobody--nobody else cared for me!” she cried. + +“Nobody?” said Aimée; and then, making up her mind to go to the point at +once, she said, “Does 'nobody' mean that Ralph Gowan did not, Mollie?” + +The clinging hand was snatched away, and the child quite writhed. + +“I hate Ralph Gowan!” she cried. “I detest him! I wish--I wish--I _wish_ +I had never seen him! Why could n't he stay away among his own people? +Nobody wanted him. Dolly doesn't care for him, and Grif hates him. Why +could n't he stay where he was?” + +There was no need to doubt after this, of course. Her love for Ralph +Gowan had rendered her restless and despairing, and so she had worked +out this innocent romance, intending to defend herself against him. The +heroines of her favorite novels married for money when they could +not marry for love, and why should not she? Remember, she was only +seventeen, and had been brought up in Vagabondia among people who did +not often regard consequences. Mr. Gerald Chandos was rich, made violent +love to her, and was ready to promise anything, it appeared,--not that +she demanded much; the Lord Burleighs of her experience invariably +showered jewels and equipages and fine raiment upon their brides without +being asked. She would have thought it positive bliss to be tied to +Ralph Gowan for six or seven years without any earthly prospect of ever +being married; to have belonged to him as Dolly belonged to Grif, to sit +in the parlor and listen to him while he made love to her as Grif made +love to Dolly, would have been quite enough steady-going rapture for +her; but since that was out of the question, Mr. Gerald Chandos and +diamonds and a carriage would have to fill up the blank. + +But, of course, she did not say this to Aimée. In fact, after her first +burst of excitement subsided, Aimée could not gain much from her. She +cried a little more, and then seemed vexed with herself, and tried to +cool down, and at last so far succeeded that she sat up and pushed her +tangled hair from her wet, hot face, and began to search for the ring. + +“It has got a diamond in the centre,” she said, trying to speak +indifferently. “I don't believe you looked at it. The opals are +splendid, too.” + +“Are you going to wear it?” asked Aimée. + +She colored up to her forehead. “No, I am not,” she answered. “I should +have worn it before if I had intended to let people see it. I told you +it was a secret. I have had this ring three or four days.” + +“Why is it a secret?” demanded Dame Prudence. “I don't believe in +secrets,--particularly in secret engagements. Is n't Phil to know?” + +She turned away to put the ring into its case. + +“Not yet,” she replied, pettishly. “Time enough when it can't be helped. +It is a secret, I tell you, and I don't care about everybody's talking +it over.” + +And she would say no more. + + + +CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + +“It is my impression,” said Dolly, “that something is going to happen.” + +She was not in the best of spirits. She could not have explained why. +Griffith was safe, at least, though he had been detained a week longer +than he had anticipated, and consequently their meeting would have to be +deferred; but though this had been a disappointment, Dolly was used +to such disappointments, and besides the most formidable part of the +waiting was over, for it was settled now that he would be home in two +days. It was Tuesday now, and on Thursday he was to return, and she +was going to Bloomsbury Place in the afternoon, and he was to join the +family tea as he had used to do in the old times. But still she did not +feel quite easy. She was restless and uncomfortable in spite of herself, +and was conscious of being troubled by a vague presentiment of evil. + +“It is not like me to be blue,” she said to herself; “but I am blue +to-day. I wonder what is going on at home.” + +Then, as was quite natural, her thoughts wandered to Mollie, and +she began to ponder upon what Aimée had told her. How were matters +progressing, and what was going to be the end of it all? The child's +danger was plainer to her than it was to Aimée; and, fond as she was of +Mollie, she had determined to improve the occasion of her visit home, +by taking the fair delinquent aside and administering a sound lecture +to her. She would tell her the truth, at least, and try to open her +innocent eyes to the fact that Mr. Gerald Chandos was not a man of the +King Cophetua stamp, and that there was neither romance nor poetry in +allowing such a man to amuse himself at her expense. + +Poor Mollie! It would be a humiliating view to take of a first conquest, +but it would be the best thing for her in the end. Dolly sighed over +the mere prospect of the task before her. She remembered what her first +conquest had been, and how implicitly she had believed in her new power, +and how trustingly she had swallowed every sugared nothing, and how she +had revelled in the field of possible romance which had seemed spread +before her, until she had awakened one fine day to find the first +flush of her triumph fading, and her adorer losing his attractions and +becoming rather tame. That had been long ago, even before Griffith's +time, but she had not forgotten the experience, and she knew it +would have been a severe shock to _her_ innocent self-love and +self-gratulation, if any one had hinted to her that there was a doubt of +her captive's honesty. She was roused from her reverie by a message from +Miss MacDowlas. It was only a commonplace sort of message. There were +some orders to be left at the poulterer's and fruiterer's, and some +bills to be paid in town, and, these affairs being her business, Miss +MacDowlas had good-naturedly ordered the carriage for her, as she had a +long round to make. + +Dolly got up and laid her work aside. She was not sorry for the +opportunity of going out, so she ran up-stairs with some alacrity to +put on her hat, and, having dressed, went to Miss MacDowlas for more +particular instructions. + +“You are looking rather pale and the drive will do you good,” said that +lady. “Call at Pullet's and pay his bill, and order the things on his +list first. By the way, it was when I drove round to give orders to +Pullet the other day, that I saw your pretty sister with Gerald Chandos. +She is too pretty, far too pretty, and far too young and inexperienced, +to be giving private interviews to such people as Gerald Chandos,” + sharply. + +“Private!” repeated Dolly, with some indignation. “I think that is a +mistake. Mr. Gerald Chandos has no need to make his interview private. +The doors are open to him at Bloomsbury Place so long as he behaves +himself.” + +“The more is the pity,” answered Miss MacDowlas; “but that this was a +private interview I am certain. My pretty Miss Innocence came up the +street slowly with her handsome baby-face on fire, and two minutes later +Gerald Chandos followed her in a wondrous hurry, and joined her +and carried her off, looking very guilty and charming, and a trifle +reluctant, I must admit.” + +Dolly's cheeks flushed, and her heart began to beat hotly. If this was +the case it was simply disgraceful, and Miss Mollie was allowing herself +to be led too far. + +“I am sorry to hear this,” she said to Miss Mac-Dowlas, “but I am +indebted to you for telling me. I will attend to it when I go home on +Thursday, and,” with a flash of fire, “if it is needful I will attend to +Mr. Gerald Chandos himself.” + +She entered the carriage, feeling hot with anger and distress. She had +not expected such a blow, even though she had told herself that she was +prepared to hear of any romantic imprudence. And then in the midst of +her anger she began to pity Mollie, as it seemed natural to pity her +always when she was indiscreet. Who had ever taught her to be discreet, +poor child? Had she herself? No, she had not. She had been fond of her +and proud of her beauty, but she had laughed at her unsophisticated, +thoughtless way with the rest, and somehow they had all looked upon +her as they looked upon Tod,--as rather a good joke. Dolly quite hated +herself as she remembered how she had related her own little escapades +for the edification of the family circle, and how Mollie had enjoyed +them more than any one else. She had never overstepped the actual +bounds of propriety herself, but she had been coquettish and fond of +admiration, and had delighted to hold her own against the world. + +“I was n't a good example to her!” she cried, remorsefully. “She ought +to have had a good, wise mother. I wish she had. I wish I had one +myself.” + +And she burst into tears, and leaned her head against the cushioned +carriage, feeling quite overcome by her self-reproach and consciousness. +Their mother had died when Mollie was born, and they had been left to +fight their own battles ever since. + +She was obliged to control herself, however. It would never do to +present herself to Pullet in tears. So she sat up and dried her eyes +with her handkerchief, and turned to the carriage window to let the +fresh air blow upon her face. But she had not been looking out +two minutes when her attention was attracted by something down the +street,--a bit of color,--a little tuft of scarlet feathers in a hat, +and then her eyes, wandering lower, recognized a well-remembered jacket +and a well-remembered dress, and then the next instant she uttered an +exclamation in spite of herself. + +“It is Mollie!” she cried. “It is Mollie, and here is Gerald Chandos!” + +For at the door of a bookseller's she was just nearing stood the +gentleman in question, holding a periodical in his hand, and evidently +awaiting an arrival. + +He caught sight of Mollie almost as soon as she did herself, and +the instant he saw her he hurried toward her, and by the time Miss +MacDowlas's carriage rolled slowly up to them, in its usual stately +fashion, he was holding the small disreputable glove Mollie had just +taken out of the convenient jacket pocket, and the fair culprit herself +was listening to his eager greeting with the old, bright, uncontrollable +blushes, and the old dangerous trick of drooping brown-fringed eyelids, +and half-shy, half-wilful air. Dolly instinctively called to her almost +aloud. She could not resist the impulse. + +“Mollie!” she said. “Mollie!” + +But, of course, Mollie did not hear her, and the carriage passed her, +and Dolly sank back into her corner catching her breath. + +“It was not a mistake,” she said; “it was true. It is worse than I +thought. Miss MacDowlas was right. It was no accident which brought them +both here. He is a cowardly scoundrel and is playing upon her ignorance. +If I had believed in him before, I should know that he is not to be +trusted now. She is walking on the edge of a precipice, and she thinks +she is safe and never dreams of its existence. Oh, Mollie! Mollie! the +world means nothing to you yet, and it is we who have to show you all +the thorns!” + +She finished her errands and drove homeward as quickly as possible. She +could think of nothing but Mollie, and by the time she reached Barbrazon +Lodge her head ached with the unpleasant excitement. The servant who +opened the door met her with a piece of information. Mr. Gowan had +called to see her on some special business, and was awaiting her arrival +in the drawing-room. He had been there almost an hour. + +She did not go to her room at all, but ran up-stairs to the drawing-room +quickly, feeling still more anxious. It was just possible that somebody +was ill, and Ralph Gowan had come to break the news to her because no +one else had been at liberty. With this idea uppermost, she opened the +door and advanced toward him, looking pale and troubled. + +He met her half-way, and took her outstretched hand, looking troubled +himself. + +“You are not very well,” he said at once. “I am sorry to see that.” And +his voice told her immediately that he had not come with good news. + +She smiled faintly, but when she sat down she put her hand to her +forehead. + +“Am I pale, then?” she answered. “I suppose I must be. It is nothing but +a trifle of headache, and,” with a hesitant laugh, “that I half fancied +you had come to tell me something unpleasant.” + +He was silent for a moment,--so silent that she looked up at him with a +startled face. + +“It _is_ something unpleasant!” she exclaimed. “You have come with ill +news, and you are afraid to begin.” + +“Not so bad as that,--not afraid, but rather reluctant,” he answered. +“It is _not_ pleasant news; and but that I felt it would be wisest to +warn you at once, I would rather any one else had brought it. I have +stumbled upon a disagreeable report.” + +“Report!” Dolly echoed, and her thoughts flew to Mollie again. + +“Don't be alarmed,” he said. “It is only a disagreeable one because +the subject of it has managed to connect himself with some one whose +happiness we value.” + +Dolly rose from her chair and stood up, turning even paler than before. + +“This some one whose happiness we value is Mollie,” she said. “And the +report you have heard is about Mr. Gerald Chandos. Am I not right?” + +“Yes,” he returned, “you are right. The hero of the report is Gerald +Chandos.” + +“What has he been doing?” she asked, sharply. “Don't hesitate, please. I +want to know.” + +He was evidently both distressed and perplexed. He took two or three +hurried steps across the room, as if to give himself a little extra time +to settle his words into the best form. But Dolly could not wait. + +“Mr. Gowan,” she said, “what has that man been doing?” + +He turned round and answered her. + +“He has been passing himself off to your brother as an unmarried man,” + he said. + +She slipped back into her chair again, and wrung her hands passionately. + +“And he is married?” she demanded. “Oh! how was it you did not know +this?” + +“Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it,” he returned. +“And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to +tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, +and I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end +of a boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent +six months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and +Chandos has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts +occasionally.” + +“And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?” said Dolly. + +“Not quite sure,” he replied; “but I wish I had greater reason to doubt +it.” + +Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street +only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and +drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he +took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling +her blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, +and then spoke. + +“Mr. Gowan,” she said, “in the first place I ought to thank you.” + +“Nay,” he said, “I promised to help you to care for Mollie.” + +“I ought to thank you,” she repeated. “And I do. But in the second place +I am going to ask you to do something for me which may be disagreeable.” + +“You may be sure,” he replied, “that I shall not hesitate.” + +“Yes,” she said, “I think I am sure of that, or I should not ask you. I +am so eager about the matter, that I could not bear to waste the time. +I want you to help me. On Thursday afternoon I am going home. Can you +trace this report to its source before then, and let me know whether it +is a true or a false one?” + +“I can try.” + +She clasped both her gloved hands together on the small table before +her, and lifted to his such a determined young face and such steadfast +eyes, that he was quite impressed. She would rise in arms against the +world for poor, unwise Mollie, it was plain. It was not so safe a matter +to trifle in Vagabondia, it would seem,--that Gerald Chandos would find +to his cost. + +“If you bring word to me that what you have heard is a truth,” she said, +“I can go to Mollie with my weapon in my hand, and I can end all at one +blow. However wilful and incredulous she may have been heretofore, she +will not attempt to resist me when I tell her that. It is a humiliating +thing to think he has insulted her by keeping his secret so far; but we +meet with such covert stings now and then in Vagabondia, and perhaps it +will prove a blessing in disguise. If we had used our authority to make +her dismiss him without having a decided reason to give her, she might +only have resented our intervention as being nothing but prejudice. As +it is, she will be frightened and angry.” + +So it was agreed upon that he should take in hand the task of sifting +the affair to the bottom. His time was his own, and chance had thrown +him among men who would be likely to know the truth. As soon as he had +gained the necessary information, Dolly would hear from him, or he would +call upon her and give her all particulars. + +“You have a whole day before you,--nearly two whole days, I may say, +for I shall not be likely to leave here until five or six o'clock +on Thursday,” Dolly said, when their rather lengthened interview +terminated. + +“I will make the most of my time,” he replied. + +Dolly stood at the window and watched him go down the walk to the gates. + +“This is the something which was going to happen,” she commented. +“Having set matters straight with Grif, I suppose it is necessary, for +the maintenance of my self-control, that I should have a difficulty +about Mollie; but I think I could have retained my equilibrium without +it.” + +The two days passed quietly enough up to Thursday afternoon. Whatever +Ralph Gowan had discovered, he was keeping to himself for the present. +He had not written, and he had not called. Naturally, Dolly was +impatient. She began to be very impatient indeed, as the afternoon +waned, and it became dusk. Worse still, her old restlessness came upon +her. She could not make up her mind to leave Brabazon Lodge until she +had either seen or heard from Gowan, and she was afraid that if she +lingered late Griffith would arrive before her, and would be troubled by +her non-appearance. Since the night they had met in the street she had +not seen him, and she had much to say to him. She had looked forward +anxiously to this evening, and the few quiet hours they were to spend +together in the dear old disreputable parlor at Bloomsbury Place. +They had spent so many blissful evenings in that parlor, that the very +thought of it made her heart beat happily. Nobody would be there to +interfere with them. The rest of the family would, good-naturedly, +vacate and leave them alone, and she would take her old chair by the +fire, and Grif would sit near her, and in ten minutes after they had sat +so together, they would have left all their troubles behind them, and +wandered off into a realm of tender dreams and sweet unrealities. +But, impatient as she was to be gone, Dolly could not forget Mollie's +interest. It was too near her heart to be forgotten. She must attend to +Mollie's affairs first, and then she could fly to Grif and the parlor +with an easy conscience. So she waited until five o'clock before +dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a while, +she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her small +preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to +leave the house as soon as he did. + +“It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake,” she +said. “I must consider him, too. If Mr. Gowan does not come by six or +half-past, I shall be obliged to go.” + +She purposely prolonged her toilet, even though it had occupied a +greater length of time than usual in the first instance. There had +been a new acquisition in the shape of a dress to don, and one or two +coquettish aids to appearance, which were also novelties. But before six +o'clock she was quite ready, and, having nothing else to do, was reduced +to the necessity of standing before the glass and taking stock of +herself and her attire. + +“It fits,” she soliloquized, curving her neck in her anxiety to obtain a +back view of herself. “It fits like a glove, and so Grif will be sure to +like it. His admiration for clothes that fit amounts to a monomania. He +will make his usual ecstatic remarks on the subject of figure, too. And +I must confess,” with modest self-satisfaction,--“I must confess that +those frills are not unbecoming. If we were only rich--and married--how +I would dress, to please him! Being possessed of a figure, one's results +are never uncertain. Figure is a weakness of mine, also. With the +avoirdupois of Miss Jolliboy, life would appear a desert. Ten thousand +per annum would not console me. And yet she wears sables and seal-skin, +and is happy. It is a singular fact, worthy of the notice of the +philosopher, that it is such women who invariably possess the sable and +seal-skin. Ah, well!” charitably, “I suppose it is a dispensation of +Providence. When they attain that size they need some compensation.” + +Often in after time she remembered the complacent little touch of +vanity, and wondered how it had been possible that she could stand +there, making so thoughtless and foolish a speech when danger was so +near, and so much of sharp, passionate suffering was approaching her. + +She had waited until the last minute, and finding, on consulting her +watch, that it was past six, she decided to wait no longer. She took +up her gloves from the dressing-table and drew them on; she settled +the little drooping plume in her hat and picked up her muff, and then, +giving a last glance and a saucy nod to the piquant reflection in the +glass, she opened her bedroom door to go out. + +And then it was, just at this last moment, that there came a ring at the +hall-door bell,--evidently a hurried ring, and withal a ring which made +her heart beat, she knew not why. + +She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and +the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him. + +“Mr. Gowan,” she heard. “Miss Crewe--wish to see her at once--at once.” + +She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for +the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and +entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her +with an exclamation of thankfulness. + +“Thank God!” he said, “that you are ready!” He was pale with excitement, +and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. “You +must come with me,” he said. “There is not a moment to lose. I have a +cab at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true, +and I have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is +not the worst,--for God's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends +upon your courage,--he intends taking your sister with him.” + +Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how +much might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she +had promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,--handsome, +lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rushing headlong and unconsciously to +misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she +turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so +before, had nodded at her pretty self in the glass; the excited blood +tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,--she +could not wait a breath's space. + +“Come!” she exclaimed, “I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are +in the cab.” + +She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give +the driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she +learned all. + +In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had +succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though +he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries. +In the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who +had been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was, +still was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been +roused to such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings +with the intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there +he had made the fearful discovery that he had just left the place with +“a pretty, childish-looking girl,--tall, and with a lovely color,” as +the landlady described her; and he had known it was Mollie at once. + +The good woman had given him all particulars. They had come to the house +together in a cab, and the young lady had not got out, but had remained +seated in it while her companion had given his orders to his servant +indoors. She--his housekeeper--had heard him say something about +Brussels, and, having caught a glimpse of the charming face in the +vehicle outside, she had watched it from behind the blinds, suspecting +something out of the common order of things. + +“Not that he did not treat her polite and respectful enough,” she added; +“for he did and she--pretty young thing--seemed quite to expect it, and +not to be at all ashamed of herself, though she were a trifle shy and +timid. I even heard him ask her if she would rather he rode outside, and +she said she 'thought so, if he pleased,' And he bowed to her and went, +quite obedient. That was what puzzled me so; if he 'd ha' been freer, I +could have understood it.” + +“It does not puzzle me!” cried Dolly, clenching her hands and fairly +panting for breath when she heard it. “He knows how innocent she is, and +he is too crafty to alarm her by his manner. Oh, cannot we make this man +drive faster?--cannot we make him drive faster?” + +Gowan drew out his watch and referred to it. + +“There is no danger of our losing their train,” he said. “It does not +leave the station until nearly seven, and it is not yet half-past six. +If they leave London to-night, we shall meet them; if they do not, I +think I can guess where we shall find them. Remember, you must not allow +yourself to become excited. We have only our coolness and readiness of +action to rely upon. If we lose our presence of mind, we lose all.” + +He did not lose his presence of mind, at least. + +Even in the midst of her distress, Dolly found time to feel grateful to +him beyond measure, and to admire his forethought. He never seemed +to hesitate for a moment. He had evidently decided upon his course +beforehand, and there was no delay. Reaching the station, he assisted +Dolly to descend from the cab and led her at once to a seat where she +could command a view of all who made their appearance upon the platform. +Then he left her and went to make inquiries from the officials. He +was not absent long. In a few minutes he returned with the necessary +information. The train was not due for twenty minutes, and as yet no +lady and gentleman answering to his description had been seen by any one +in the place. + +He came to Dolly and took a seat by her, looking down at her upturned, +appealing face pityingly, but reassuringly. + +“We are safe yet,” he said. “They have not arrived, and they can have +taken passage in no other train. We will watch this train leave the +station, and then we will drive at full speed to the hotel Chandos is in +the habit of visiting when he makes a flying journey. I know the place +well enough.” + +The next half-hour was an anxious one to both. The train was behind +time, and consequently they were compelled to wait longer than they had +expected. A great many people crowded into the station and took tickets +for various points,--workingmen and their wives, old women with bundles, +and young ones without, comfortable people who travelled first-class and +seemed satisfied with themselves, shabbily attired little dressmakers +and milliners with bandboxes, a party of tourists, and a few nice girls; +in fact, the usual samples of people hurrying or taking it easy, losing +their temper or preserving it; but there was no Mollie. The last moment +arrived, the guards closed the carriage doors with the customary bang, +and the customary cry of “All right;” there were a few puffs and a +whistle, and then the train moved slowly out of the station. Mollie was +not on her way to Brussels yet; that was a fact to be depended upon. + +Dolly rose from her seat with a sigh which was half relief. + +“Now for trying the hotel,” said Gowan. “Take my arm and summon up your +spirits. In less than a quarter of an hour, I think I may say, we shall +have found our runaway, and we shall have to do our best to reduce her +romantic escapade to a commonplace level. We may even carry her back to +Bloomsbury Place before they have had time to become anxious about her. +Thank Heaven, we were so fortunate as to discover all before it was too +late!” + +Bloomsbury Place! A sudden pang shot through Dolly's heart. She +recollected then for the first time that at Bloomsbury Place Griffith +was waiting for her, and that it might be a couple of hours before she +could see him and explain. She got into the cab and leaned back in one +corner, with the anxious tears forcing themselves into her eyes. It +seemed as if fate itself was against her. + +“What will he think?” she exclaimed, unconsciously. “Oh, what will +he think?” Then, seeing that Gowan had heard her, she looked at him +piteously. + +“I did not mean to speak aloud,” she said. “I had forgotten in my +trouble that Grif will be waiting for me all this time. He has gone to +the house to meet me, and--I am not there.” + +Perhaps he felt a slight pang, too. For some time he had been slowly +awakening, to the fact that this otherwise unfortunate Grif was all in +all to her, and shut out the rest of the world completely. He had no +chance against him, and no other man would have any. Still, even in the +face of this knowledge, the evident keenness of her disappointment cut +him a little. + +“You must not let that trouble you,” he said, generously. “Donne will +easily understand your absence when you tell him where you have been. +In the meantime, I have a few suggestions to make before we reach the +hotel.” + +It was Mollie he was thinking of. He was wondrously tender of her in his +man's pity for her childish folly and simplicity. If possible, they must +keep her secret to themselves. If she had left no explanation behind +her, she must have given some reason for leaving the house, and if they +found her at the hotel it would not be a difficult matter to carry her +back home without exciting suspicion, and thus she would be saved the +embarrassment and comment her position would otherwise call down upon +her. Griffith might be told in confidence, but the rest of them might +be left to imagine that nothing remarkable had occurred. These were his +suggestions. + +Dolly agreed to adopt them at once, it is hardly necessary to say. The +idea that it would be possible to adopt them made the case look less +formidable. She had been terribly troubled at first by the thought of +the excitement the explanation of the escapade would cause at Bloomsbury +Place. Phil would have been simply furious,--not so much against Mollie +as against Chandos. His good-natured indifference to circumstances would +not have been proof against the base betrayal of confidence involved in +the affair. And then even in the after-time, when the worst was over and +forgotten, the innumerable jokes and thoughtless sarcasms she would have +had to encounter would have been Mollie's severest punishment. When the +remembrance of her past danger had faded out of the family mind, and the +whimsical side of the matter presented itself, they would have teased +her, and Dolly felt that such a course would be far from safe. So she +caught at Ralph Gowan's plan eagerly. + +Still she felt an excited thrill when the cab drew up before the door of +the hotel. Suppose they should not find her? Suppose Chandos had taken +precautions against their being followed? + +But Gowan did not seem to share her misgivings, though the expression +upon his face was a decidedly disturbed one as he descended from the +vehicle. + +“You must remain seated until I come back,” he said. “I shall not be +many minutes, I am sure. I am convinced they are here.” And then he +closed the cab door and left her. + +She drew out her watch and sat looking at it to steady herself. Her mind +was not very clear as to how she intended to confront Mr. Gerald Chandos +and convince Mollie. The convincing of Mollie would not be difficult, +she was almost sure, but the confronting of Gerald Chandos was not a +pleasant thing to think of. + +She was just turning over in her mind a stirring, scathing speech, when +the cab door opened again, and Gowan stood before her. He had not been +absent five minutes. + +“It is as I said it would be,” he said. “They are here,--at least Mollie +is here. Chandos has gone out, and she is alone in the private parlor +he has engaged for her. They have evidently missed their train. They +intended to leave by the first in the morning. I have managed to give +the impression that we are expected, and so we shall be shown on to the +scene at once without any trouble.” + +And so they were. A waiter met them at the entrance and led them +up-stairs without the slightest hesitation. + +“It is not necessary to announce us,” said Gowan. And the man threw open +the door of No. 2 with a bow. + +They crossed the threshold together without speaking, and when the +door closed behind them they turned and looked at each other with a +simultaneous but half-smothered exclamation. + +It was a pretty room, bright with a delicate gay-hued carpet and thick +white rugs, numerous mirrors and upholstering of silver-gray and blue. +There was a clear-burning fire in the highly polished steel-grate, +and one of the blue and silver-gray sofas had been drawn up to it, +and there, upon this sofa, lay Mollie with her hand under her cheek, +sleeping like a baby. + +They were both touched to the heart by the mere sight of her. There was +something in the perfect repose of her posture and expression that was +childish and restful. It was a difficult matter to realize that she was +sleeping on the brink of ruin and desolation. Something bright gathered +on Dolly's lashes and slipped down her cheek as she looked at her. + +“Thank God, we have found her!” she said. “Just to think that she should +be sleeping like that,--as if she was at home. If she was two years old +she might wear just such a look.” + +Gowan hardly liked to stand by as she went toward the sofa. The girl's +face, under the coquettish hat, seemed to grow womanly, her whole figure +seemed to soften as she knelt down upon the carpet by the couch and laid +her hand upon Mollie's shoulder, speaking to her gently. + +“Mollie,” she said, “dear, waken.” + +Just that, and Mollie started up with a faint cry, dazzled by the light, +and rubbing her eyes and her soft, flushed cheeks, just as she had done +the night Gowan surprised her asleep in the parlor. + +“Dolly,” she cried out, when she saw who was with her,--“Dolly,” in a +half-frightened voice, “why did you come here?” + +“I came to take you home,” answered Dolly, tremulously, but firmly. +“Thank God! I am not too late! Oh, Mollie, Mollie, how could you?” + +Mollie sat up among her blue and gray cushions and stared at her for a +moment, as if she was not wide enough awake to realize what she meant. +But the next instant she caught sight of Ralph Gowan, and that roused +her fully, and she flushed scarlet. + +“I don't know what you mean,” she said. “I don't know what you mean +by coming here in this way. And I don't know what Mr. Gowan means by +bringing you,--for I feel sure he has brought you. I am not a baby, +to be followed as if I could not take care of myself. I am going to +be married to Mr. Gerald Chandos to-morrow, and we are going on the +Continent for our wedding tour.” + +She was in a high state of rebellion. It was Gowan's presence she was +resenting, not Dolly's. To tell the truth, she was rather glad to see +Dolly. She had begun to feel the loneliness of her position, and it had +half intimidated her. But the sight of Gowan roused her spirit. What +right had he to come and interfere with her, since he did not care for +her and thought she was nothing but a child? It made her feel like a +child. She turned her back to him openly as she spoke to Dolly. + +“I am going to be married in the morning,” she repeated; “and we are +going to Brussels.” + +Then, in her indignation against Mr. Gerald Chandos, Dolly fired a +little herself. + +“And has it never occurred to you,” she said, “that it is rather a +humiliating thing this running away, as if you knew you were doing +something disgraceful? May I ask what reason Mr. Gerald Chandos gives +for asking you to submit to such an insult, for it is an insult?” + +“He has very good reasons,” answered Mollie, beginning to falter all at +once, as the matter was presented to her in this new and trying light. +“He has very good reasons,--something about business and--and his +family, and he does not intend to insult me. He is very fond of me and +very proud of me, and he is going to try to make me very happy. He--he +has bought me a beautiful trousseau--” And then, seeing the two exchange +indignant yet pitying glances, she broke off suddenly and burst forth as +if she was trying to hide in anger the subtle, mysterious fear which was +beginning to creep upon her. “How dare you look at each other so!” she +cried. “How dare you look at me so! I have done nothing wrong. He says +many other people do the same thing and--and I won't be looked at so. I +shall not tell you another word. You--you look as if I was going to do +something wicked and dreadful.” And she flung herself face downward upon +the sofa cushions and broke into a passionate, excited sob. + +Then Dolly could control herself no longer. She flashed out into a storm +of wrath and scorn against this cool, systematic scoundrel, who would +have wrought such harm against such simple ignorance of the world. +What had they not saved her from, poor, foolish child? She clenched her +little, gloved hand and struck it against the sofa arm, the hot color +flaming up on her cheeks and the fire lighting in her eyes. + +“Mollie!” she exclaimed, “that is what is true! You are going to do +something that is dreadful to think of, though you do not think so +because you do not know the truth. And we have come to tell you the +truth and save you. That man is a villain,--he is the worst of villains. +He does not intend to marry you,--he cannot marry you, and, knowing +he cannot, he has been laying traps for months to drag you down into +a horrible pit of shame. Yes, of the bitterest grief and shame,--poor, +simple child as you are,--for I must tell you the whole dreadful truth, +though I would far rather hide it from you, if I could. There are some +wicked, wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of +the worst, for he has got a wife already.” + +It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and +confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out +of her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a +wild, appealing look. + +“It is n't true,” she insisted, desperately; but her voice was broken, +and she sobbed out her words in her fright. “It is n't true! It is n't +true! You want to frighten me.” And all at once she ran to Ralph Gowan +like a child, and caught hold of his arm with her pretty, shaking +hands. “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “you know, don't you? and you won't--you +won't--Oh, where is Aimée? I want Aimée! Aimée is n't like the rest of +you! _She_ would have made me go home without being so cruel as this.” + And the next minute she turned so white and staggered so, that Dolly ran +to her, and Gowan was obliged to take her in his arms. + +“Tell her that what I have said is true,” said Dolly, crying. “She will +begin to understand then.” + +And so, while he held her, panting and sobbing and clinging to him, +Gowan told her all that he had learned. He was as brief as possible and +as tender as a woman. His heart so warmed toward the pretty, lovable, +passionately frightened creature, that his voice was far from steady as +he told his story. + +She did not rebel an instant longer, then. Her terror, under the shock, +rendered her only helpless and hysterical. She had so far lost control +over herself that she would have believed anything they had chosen to +tell her. + +“Take me away,” she cried, whitening and shivering, all her bright, +pretty color gone, all her wilful petulance struck down at a blow. “Take +me home,--take me home to Aimée. I want to go away from here before he +comes. I want to go home and die.” + +How they got her down-stairs and into the carriage, Dolly scarcely +knows. It was enough that they got her there and knew she was safe. Upon +the table in the room above they had left a note directed to Mr. Gerald +Chandos,--Dolly had directed it and Dolly had written it. + +“Is there pen and ink here?” she had asked Gowan; and when he had +produced the articles, she had bent over the table and dashed a few +lines off with an unsteady yet determined hand. + +“There!” she had said, when she closed the envelope. “Mr. Chandos will +go to Brussels, I think, and he will understand why he goes alone, and, +for my part, I incline to the belief that he will not trouble us again.” + +And in five minutes more they were driving toward Bloomsbury Place. + +But now the first excitement was over, Dolly's nerve began to fail her. +Now that Mollie was safe, she began to think of Griffith. It seemed a +cruel trick of fortune's to try his patience so sharply just at this +very point. She knew so well what effect his hours of waiting would have +upon him. But it was useless to rebel now; so she must bear it as well +as she could, and trust to the result of her explanation. Yet despite +her hope, every minute of the long drive seemed an age, and she grew +feverish and restless and wretched. What if he had not waited, and was +not there to listen to what she had to say? Then there would be all the +old trouble to face again,--perhaps something worse. + +“It is nine o'clock,” she said, desperately, as they passed a lighted +church tower. “It is nine o'clock.” And she leaned back in her corner +again, with her heart beating strongly. Her disappointment was so keen +that she could have burst into a passion of tears. Her happy evening +was gone, and her dream of simple pleasure had fled with its sacrificed +hours. She could not help remembering this, and being quite conquered by +the thought, even though Mollie was safe. + +They had settled what to do beforehand. At the corner of the street +Gowan was to leave them, and the two girls were to go in together, +Mollie making her way at once to her room upon pretext of headache. A +night's rest would restore her self-control, and by the next morning she +would be calm enough to face the rest, and so her wild escapade would +end without risk of comment if she was sufficiently discreet to keep her +own counsel. At present she was too thoroughly upset and frightened even +to feel humiliation. + +“Nearly half-past nine,” said Gowan, as he assisted them to descend to +the pavement at their journey's end. + +The light from an adjacent lamp showed him that the face under Dolly's +hat was very pale and excited, and her eyes were shining and large with +repressed tears as she gave him her hand. + +“I cannot find words to thank you just yet,” she said, low and +hurriedly. “I wish I could; but--you know what you have helped me to +save Mollie from to-night, and so you know what my gratitude must be. +The next time I see you, perhaps, I shall be able to say what I wish, +but now I can only say goodnight, and--oh, God bless you!” And the +little hand fairly wrung his. + +Mollie shook hands with him, trembling and almost reluctantly. She was +pale, too, and her head drooped as if it would nevermore regain the old +trick of wilful, regal carriage. + +“You have been very kind to take so much trouble,” she said. “You were +kinder than I deserved,--both of you.” + +“Now,” said Dolly, when he sprang into the cab, and they turned away +together,--“now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. No,” + trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great matter, +“you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over now, +and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You have +been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is +all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and +a headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a +heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow--but it isn't. But, Mollie,” + they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and +she turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking +tremulously, “when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say +your prayers, and thank God that it is n't,--thank God that it is n't, +with all your heart and soul.” And she kissed her cheek softly just as +they heard Aimée coming down the hall to open the door. + +“Dolly!” she exclaimed when she saw them, “where have you been? Griffith +has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given +you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by +something.” + +“I have been delayed by something,” said Dolly, her heart failing her +again. “And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, +Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?” + +“Scarcely ten minutes,” was the answer. “It is a wonder you did not meet +him. Oh, Dolly!” ominously, “how unlucky you are!” + +Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner. + +“I _am_ unlucky,” she said; and without saying more, she made her way +into the parlor. + +She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless +of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the +room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its +cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk +low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;--somehow or +other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late for +the brightness and warmth,--a few hours before it had been bright and +warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now? She +dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed +feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and +had gone home! + +“It's too bad!” she cried. “It is cruel! I can't bear it! Oh, Grif, _do_ +come!” And her tears fell thick and fast. + +Ten minutes later she started up with a little cry of joy and relief. +That was his footstep upon the pavement, and before he had time to ring +she was at the door. She could scarcely speak to him in her excitement. + +“Oh, Grif!” she said; “Grif--darling!” + +But he did not offer to touch her, and strode past her outstretched +hands. + +“Come into this room with me,” he said, hoarsely; and the simple sound +of his voice struck her to the heart like a blow. + +She followed him, trembling, and when they stood in the light, and she +saw his deathly, passion-wrung face, her hand crept up to her side and +pressed against it. + +He had a package in his hand,--a package of letters,--and he laid them +down on the table. + +“I have been home for these,” he said. “Your letters,--I have brought +them back to you.” + +“Grif!” she cried out. + +He waved her back. + +“No,” he said, “never mind that. It is too late for that now, that is +all over. Good God! all over!” and he panted for breath. “I have been in +this room waiting for you,” he struggled on, “since five o'clock. I came +with my heart full to the brim. I have dreamt about what this evening +was to be to us every night for a week. I was ready to kneel and kiss +your feet. I waited hour after hour. I was ready to pray--yes, to +_pray_, like a fool--that I might hold you in my arms before the night +ended. Not half an hour ago I went out to see if you were coming. And +you were coming. At the corner of the street you were bidding good-night +to--to Ralph Gowan--” + +“Listen!” she burst forth. “Mollie was with me-- + +“Ralph Gowan was with you,” he answered her; “it does not matter who +else was there. You had spent those hours in which I wanted you with +him. That was enough,--nothing can alter that.” And then all at once he +came and stood near her, and looked down at her with such anguish in his +eyes that she could have shrieked aloud. “It was a poor trick to play, +Dolly,” he said; “so poor a one, that it was scarcely like you. Your +coquetries had always a fairer look. The commonest jilt might have +done such a thing as that, and almost have done it better. It is an old +trick, too, this playing the poor fool against the rich one. The only +merit of your play has been that you have kept it up so long.” + +He was almost mad, but he might have seen that he was trying her too +far, and that she would break down all at once. The long strain of +the whole evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against +wretchedness--all were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak, +and, failing, fought for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical +sob, like a child's, and then turned white and shivered, without +uttering a word. + +“Yes,” he said, “a long time, Dolly”--but his sentence was never ended, +for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay near his +feet quivering for a second, and then lying still. + +He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and +carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to +have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its +simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was +mad enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the +cruel, ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when +he turned away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had +died out of his face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very +youth had dropped away from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams +behind, with something like self-scorn. + +“Good-by,” he said; “we have lost a great deal, Dolly--or I have lost +it, I might say. And even you--I believe it pleased even you until +better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too.” + +Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out +into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when, +a few minutes later, Aimée came running down to answer the strange +summons, she found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face +upon the sofa-cushion, and the great package of those old, sweet, +foolish letters upon the table. + + + +CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + +IT was all over,--all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this +much when she opened her eyes, and found Aimée bending over her. + +“Has he gone?” she had asked. “Did he go away and leave me?” + +“Do you mean Grif?” said Aimée. + +She made a weak gesture of assent. + +“Yes,” Aimée answered. “He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and +found you lying here when I came to see what it meant.” + +“Then,” said Dolly, “all is over,--all is over at last.” And she turned +her face upon the cushion and lay so still that she scarcely seemed to +breathe. + +“Take another drink of water, Dolly,” said Aimée, keeping back her +questions with her usual discretion. “You must, dear.” + +But Dolly did not stir. + +“I don't want any more,” she said. “I am not going to faint again. You +have no need to be afraid. I don't easily faint, you know, and I should +not have fainted just now only--that the day has been a very hard one +for me, and somehow I lost strength all at once. I am not ill,--only +worn out.” + +“You must be very much worn out, then,” said Aimée; “more worn out than +I ever saw you before. You had better let me help you up-stairs to bed.” + +“I don't want to go to bed yet!” in a strange, choked voice, and the +next moment Aimée saw her hands clench themselves and her whole frame +begin to shake. “Shut the door and lock it,” she said, wildly. “I can't +stop myself. Give me some sal volatile. I can't breathe.” And such a fit +of suffocating sobbing came upon her that she writhed and battled for +air. + +Aimée flung herself upon her knees by her side, shedding tears herself. + +“Oh, Dolly,” she pleaded, “Dolly, darling, don't. Try to help yourself +against it. I know what the trouble is. He went away angry and +disappointed, and it has frightened you. Oh, please don't, darling. He +will come back to-morrow; he will, indeed. He always does, you know, and +he will be so sorry.” + +“He has gone forever,” Dolly panted, when she could speak. “He will +never come back. To-night has been different from any other time. No,” + gasping and sobbing, “it is fate. Fate is against us,--it always was +against us. I think God is against us; and oh, how can He be? He might +pity us,--we tried so hard and loved each other so much. We did n't ask +for anything but each other,--we did n't want anything but that we might +be allowed to cling together all our lives and work and help each other. +Oh, Grif, my darling,--oh, Grif, my dear, my dear!” And the sobs rising +again and conquering her were such an agony that Aimée caught her in her +arms. + +“Dolly,” she said, “you must not, you must not, indeed. You will die, +you can't bear it.” + +“No,” she wailed, “I can't bear it,--that is what it is. I can't bear +it. It is too hard to bear. But there is no one to help me,--God won't. +He does not care for us, or He would have given us just one little crumb +out of all He has to give. What can a poor helpless girl be to Him? He +is too high and great to care for our poor little powerless griefs. Oh, +how wicked I am!” in a fresh burst. “See how I rebel at the first real +blow. It is because I am so wicked, perhaps, that all has been taken +from me,--all I had in the world. It is because I loved Grif best. +I have read in books that it was always so. Oh, why is it? I can't +understand it. It seems cruel,--yes, it does seem cruel,--as cruel as +death, to give him to me only that I might suffer when he was taken +away. Oh, Grif, my darling! Grif, my love, my dear!” + +This over again and again, with wild, heart-broken weeping, until she +was so worn out that she could cry no more, and lay upon Aimée's arm +upon the cushion, white and exhausted, with heavy purple rings about her +wearied, sunken eyes. It was not until then that Aimée heard the whole +truth. She had only been able to guess at it before, and now, hearing +the particulars, she could not help fearing the worst. + +It was just as she had feared it would be; another blow had come upon +him at the very time when he was least able to bear it, and it had been +too much for him. But she could not reveal her forebodings to Dolly. She +must comfort her and persuade her to hope for the best. + +“You must go to bed, Dolly,” she said, “and try to sleep, and in the +morning everything will look different. He may come, you know,--it +would be just like him to come before breakfast. But if he does +not come--suppose,” hesitatingly,--“suppose I was to write to him, +or--suppose you were to?” + +She was half afraid that pride would rise against this plan, but she +was mistaken. Seven years of love had mastered pride. Somehow or other, +pride had never seemed to come between them in their little quarrels, +each had always been too passionately eager to concede, and too sure +of being met with tenderest penitence. Dolly had always known too +confidently that her first relenting word would touch Grifs heart, and +Grif had always been sure that his first half-softened reproach would +bring the girl to his arms in an impetuous burst of loving repentance. +No, it was scarcely likely that other people's scruples would keep them +apart. So Dolly caught at the proposal almost eagerly. + +“Yes,” she said, “I will write and tell him how it was. It was not his +fault, was it, Aimée? How could I have borne such a thing myself? It +would have driven me wild, as it did him. It was not unreasonable at all +that he should refuse to listen, in his first excitement, after he had +waited all those hours and suffered such a disappointment. And then to +see what he did. My poor boy! he was not to blame at all. Yes, +yes,” feverishly, “I will write to him and tell him. Suppose I write +now--don't you think I had better do it now, and then he will get the +letter in the morning, and he will be sure to come before dinner,--he +will be sure to come, won't he?” + +“He always did,” said Aimée. + +“Always,” said Dolly. “Indeed, I never had to write to him before to +bring him. He always came without being written to. There never was any +one like him for being tender and penitent. You always said so, Aimée. +And just think how often I have tried his patience! I sometimes wish I +could help doing things,--flirting, you know, and making a joke of it. +He never flirted in his life, poor darling, and what right had I to +do it? When he comes to-morrow I will tell him how sorry I am for +everything, and I will promise to be better. I have not been half so +good as he has. I wish I had. I should not have hurt him so often if I +had.” + +“You have been a little thoughtless sometimes,” said Aimée. “Perhaps it +_would_ have been better if you could have helped it.” + +“A little thoughtless,” said Dolly, restlessly. “I have been wickedly +thoughtless sometimes. And I have made so many resolutions and broken +them all. And I ought to have been doubly thoughtful, because he had +so much to bear. If he had been prosperous and happy it would not have +mattered half so much. But it was all my vanity. You don't know how vain +I am, Aimée. I quite hate myself when I think of it. It is the +wanting people to admire me,--everybody, men and women, and even +children,--particularly among Lady Augusta's set, where there is a sort +of fun in it. And then I flirt before I know; and then, of course, Grif +cannot help seeing it. I wonder that he has borne with me so long.” + +She was quite feverish in her anxiety to condemn herself and exculpate +her lover. She did not droop her face against the pillow, but roused +herself, turning toward Aimée, and talking fast and eagerly. A bright +spot of color came out on either cheek, though for the rest she was pale +enough. But to Aimée's far-seeing eyes there was something so forced and +unnaturally strung in her sudden change of mood that she felt a touch of +dread Suppose something should crush her newly formed hopes,--something +terrible and unforeseen! She felt a chill strike her to the heart at the +mere thought of such a possibility. She knew Dolly better than the rest +of them did,--knew her highly strung temperament, and feared it, too. +She might be spirited and audacious and thoughtless, but a blow coming +through Grif would crush her to the earth. + +“You--you mustn't set your heart too much upon his getting the letter +in the morning, Dolly,” she said. “He might be away when it came, or--or +twenty things, and he might not see it until night, but--” + +“Well,” said Dolly, “I will write it at once if you will give me the pen +and ink. The earlier it is posted the earlier he will get it.” + +She tried to rise then; but when she stood up her strength seemed to +fail her, and she staggered and caught at Aimee's arm. But the next +minute she laughed. + +“How queer that one little faint should make me so weak!” she said. “I +am weak,--actually. I shall feel right enough when I sit down, though.” + +She sat down at the table with her writing materials, and Aimée remained +upon the sofa watching her. Her hand trembled when she wrote the first +few lines, but she seemed to become steadier afterward, and her pen +dashed over the paper without a pause for a few minutes. The spot of +color on her cheeks faded and burned by turns,--sometimes it was gone, +and again it was scarlet, and before the second page was finished tears +were falling soft and fast. Once she even stopped to wipe them away, +because they blinded her; but when she closed the envelope she did not +look exactly unhappy, though her whole face was tremulous. + +“He will come back,” she said, softly. “He will come back when he reads +this, I know. I wish it was to-morrow. To-morrow night he will be here, +and we shall have our happy evening after all. I can excuse myself to +Miss MacDowlas for another day.” + +“Yes,” said Aimée, a trifle slowly, as she took _it_ from her hand. “I +will send Belinda out with it now.” And she carried it out of the room. + +In a few minutes she returned. “She has taken it,” she said. “And now +you had better go to bed, Dolly.” + +But Dolly's color had faded again, and she was resting her forehead +upon her hands, with a heavy, anxious, worn look, which spoke of sudden +reaction. She lifted her face with a half-absent air. + +“I hope it will be in time for to-night's post,” she said. “Do you think +it will?” + +“I am not quite sure, but I hope so. You must come to bed, Dolly.” + +She got up without saying more, and followed her out into the hall, but +at the foot of the staircase she stopped. “I have not seen Tod,” she +said. “Let us go into 'Toinette's room and ask her to let us have him +to-night. We can carry him up-stairs without wakening him. I have done +it many a time. I should like to have him in my arms to-night.” + +So they turned into Mrs. Phil's room, and found that handsome young +matron sitting in her dressing-gown before the fire, brushing out her +great dark mantle of hair. + +“Don't waken Tod,” she cried out, as usual; and then when she saw Dolly +she broke into a whispered volley of wondering questions. Where in the +world had she been? What had she been doing with herself until such an +hour? Where was Grif? Was n't he awfully vexed? What had he said when +she came in? All of which inquiries the two parried as best they might. + +As to Tod--well, Tod turned her thoughts in another direction. He was +a beauty, and a king, and a darling, and he was growing sweeter and +brighter every day,--which comments, by the way, were always the first +made upon the subject of the immortal Tod. He was so amiable, too, and +so clever and so little trouble. He went to sleep in his crib every +night at seven, and never awakened until morning. Aunt Dolly might look +at him now with those two precious middle fingers in his little mouth. +And Aunt Dolly did look at him, lifting the cover slightly, and +bending over him as he lay there making a deep dent in his small, plump +pillow,--a very king of babies, soft and round and warm, the white lids +drooped and fast closed over his dark eyes, their long fringes making +a faint shadow on his fair, smooth baby cheeks, the two fingers in +his sweet mouth, the round, cleft chin turned up, the firm, tiny white +pillar of a throat bare. + +“Oh, my bonny baby!” cried Dolly, the words rising from the bottom of +her heart, “how fair and sweet you are!” + +They managed to persuade Mrs. Phil to allow them to take possession +of him for the night; and when they went up-stairs Dolly carried him, +folded warmly in his downy blanket, and held close and tenderly in her +arms. + +“Aunt Dolly's precious!” Aimée heard her whispering to him as she gave +him a last soft good-night kiss before they fell asleep. “Aunt Dolly's +comfort! Everything is not gone so long as he is left.” + +But she evidently passed a restless night. When Aimée awakened in the +morning she found her standing by the bedside, dressed and looking +colorless and heavy-eyed. + +“I never was so glad to see morning in my life,” she said. “I thought +the day would never break. I--I wonder how long it will be before Grif +will be reading his letter?” + +“He may get it before nine o'clock,” answered Aimée; “but don't trouble +about it, or the day will seem twice as long. Take Tod down-stairs and +wash and dress him. It will give you something else to think of.” + +The wise one herself had not slept well. Truth to say, she was troubled +about more matters than one. She was troubled to account for the meaning +of Dolly's absence with Gowan. Even in her excitement, Dolly had not +felt the secret quite her own, and had only given a skeleton explanation +of the true state of affairs. + +“It was something about Mollie and Gerald Chan-dos,” she had said; “and +if I had not gone it would have been worse than death to Mollie. Don't +ask me to tell you exactly what it was, because I can't. Perhaps Mollie +will explain herself before many days are over. She always tells you +everything, you know. But it was no real fault of here; she was silly, +but not wicked, and she is safe from Gerald Chandos now forever. And _I_ +saved her, Aimée.” + +And so the wise one had lain awake and thought of all sorts of possible +and impossible escapades. But as she was dressing herself this morning, +the truth flashed upon her, though it was scarcely the whole truth. + +“She was going to elope with him,” she exclaimed all at once; “_that_ +was what she was going to do. Oh, Mollie, Mollie, what a romantic goose +you are!” + +And having reached this solution, she closed her small, determined mouth +in discreet silence, resolving to wait for Mollie's confession, which +she knew was sure to come sooner or later. As to Mollie herself, she +came down subdued and silent. She had slept off the effects of her first +shock, but had by no means forgotten it. She would never forget it, poor +child, as long as she lived, and she was so grateful to find herself +safe in the shabby rooms again, that she had very little to say; and +since she was in so novel a mood, the members of the family who were not +in the secret decided that her headache must have been a very severe one +indeed. + +“Don't say anything to her about Grif,” Dolly cautioned Aimée, “it would +only trouble her.” And so the morning passed; but even at twelve o'clock +there was no Grif, and Dolly began to grow restless and walk to and +fro from the window to the hearth at very short intervals. Dinner-hour +arrived, too, but still no arrival; and Dolly sat at the table, among +them, eating nothing and saying little enough. How could she talk when +every step upon the pavement set her heart bounding? When dinner was +over and Phil had gone back to the studio, she looked so helpless and +woe-begone that Aimée felt constrained to comfort her. + +“It may have been delayed,” she whispered to her, “or he may have left +the house earlier than usual, and so won't see it until to-night. He +will be here to-night, Dolly, depend upon it.” + +And so they waited. Ah, how that window was watched that afternoon! How +often Dolly started from her chair and ran to look out, half suffocated +by her heart-beatings! But it was of no avail. As twilight came on +she took her station before it, and knelt upon the carpet for an hour +watching; but in the end she turned away all at once, and, running +to the fire again, caught Tod up in her arms, and startled Aimée by +bursting into a passion of tears. + +“Oh, Tod!” she sobbed, “he is not coming! He will never come again,--he +has left us forever! Oh, Tod, love poor Aunt Dolly, darling.” And she +hid her face on the little fellow's shoulder, crying piteously. + +She did not go to the window again. When she was calmer, she remained on +her chair, colorless and exhausted, but clinging to Tod still in a queer +pathetic way, and letting him pull at her collar and her ribbons and her +hair. The touch of his relentless baby hands and his pretty, tyrannical, +restless ways seemed to help her a little and half distract her +thoughts. + +She became quieter and quieter as the evening waned; indeed, she was so +quiet that Aimée wondered. She was strangely pale; but she did not start +when footsteps were heard on the street, and she ceased turning toward +the door when it opened. + +“He--he may come in the morning,” Aimée faltered as they went up-stairs +to bed. + +“No, he will not,” she answered her, quite steadily. “It will be as I +said it would,--he will never come again.” + +But when they reached their room, the unnatural, strained quiet gave +way, and she flung herself upon the bed, sobbing and fighting against +just the hysterical suffering which had conquered her the night before. + +It was the very ghost of the old indomitable Dolly who rose the next +morning. Her hands shook as she dressed her hair, and there were shadows +under her eyes. But she must go back to Brabazon Lodge, notwithstanding. + +“I can say I have a nervous headache,” she said to Aimée. “Nervous +headaches are useful things.” + +“If a letter comes,” said Aimée, “I will bring it to you myself.” + +The girl turned toward her suddenly, her eyes hard and bright and her +mouth working. + +“I have had my last letter,” she said. “My last letters came to me when +Grif laid that package upon the table. He has done with me.” + +“Done with you?” cried Aimée, frightened by her manner. “With _you_, +Dolly?” + +Then for the first time Dolly flushed scarlet to the very roots of her +hair. + +“Yes,” she said, “he has done with me. If there had been half a chance +that he would ever come near me again, the letter I wrote to him that +night would have brought him. A word of it would have brought him,--the +first word. But he is having his revenge by treating it with contempt. +He is showing me that it is too late, and that no humility on my part +can touch him. I scarcely could have thought that of him,” dropping into +a chair by the toilet-table and hiding her face in her hands. + +“It is not like Grif to let me humble myself for nothing. And I did +humble myself,--ah, how I did humble myself! That letter,--if you could +have seen it, Aimée,--it was all on fire with love for him. I laid +myself under his feet,--and he has trodden me down! Grif--Grif, it was +n't like you,--it was n't worthy of you,--it was n't indeed!” + +Her worst enemy would have felt herself avenged if she had heard the +anguish in her voice. She was crushed to the earth under this last great +blow of feeling that he had altered so far. Grif,--her whilom greatest +help and comfort,--the best gift God had given her! Dear, old, tender, +patient fellow! as she had been wont to call him in her fits of +penitence. + +Grif, whose arms had always been open to her at her best and at her +worst, who had loved her and borne with her, and waited upon her and +done her bidding since they were both little more than children. When +had Grif ever turned from her before? Never. When had Grif ever been +cold or unfaithful in word or deed? Never. When had he ever failed her? +Never--never--never--until now! And now that he had failed her at last, +she felt that the bitter end had come. The end to everything,--to all +the old hopes and dreams, to all the old sweet lovers' quarrels and +meetings and partings, to all their clinging together, to all the +volumes and volumes of love and trust that lay in the past, to all the +world of simple bliss that lay still unrevealed in their lost future, to +all the blessed old days when they had pictured to each other what that +future was to be. It had all gone for nothing in the end. It must all +have gone for nothing, when Grif--a new Grif--not her own true, stanch, +patient darling--not her own old lover--could read her burning, tender, +suffering words and pass them by without a word of answer. And with +this weight of despair and pain upon her heart, she went back to the +wearisome routine of Brabazon Lodge,--went back heavy with humiliation +and misery which she scarcely realized,--went back suffering as no one +who knew her--not even Grif himself--could ever have understood that it +was possible for her to suffer. No innocent coquetries now, no spirit, +no jests; for the present at least she had done with them, too. + +“You are not in your usual spirits, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas. + +“No,” she answered, quietly, “I am not.” + +This state of affairs continued for four days, and then one morning, +sitting at her sewing in the breakfast-room, she was startled almost +beyond self-control by a servant's announcement that a visitor had +arrived. + +“One of your sisters, ma'am,” said the parlor-maid. “Not the youngest, I +think.” + +She was in the room in two seconds, and flew to Aimée, trembling all +over with excitement. + +“Not a letter!” she cried, hysterically. “It is n't a letter,--it can't +be!” And she put her hand to her side and fairly panted. + +The poor little wise one confronted her with something like fear. She +could not bear to tell her the ill news she had come to break. + +“Dolly, dear!” she said, “please sit down; and--please don't look at me +so. It isn't good news. I must tell you the truth; it is bad news, cruel +news. Oh, don't look so!” + +They were standing near the sofa, and Dolly gave one little moan, and +sank down beside it. + +“Cruel news!” she cried, throwing up her hand. “Yes, I might have known +that,--I might have known that it would be cruel, if it was news at all +Every one is cruel,--the whole world is cruel; even Grif,--even Grif!” + +Aimée burst into tears. + +“Oh, Dolly, I did my best for you!” she said. “I did, indeed; but you +must try to bear it, dear,--it is your own letter back again.” + +Then the kneeling figure seemed to stiffen and grow rigid in a second. +Dolly turned her deathly face, with her eyes aflame and dilated. + +“Did _he_ send it back to me?” she asked, in a slow, fearful whisper. + +Her expression was so hard and dreadful a one that Aimée sprang to her +side and caught hold of her. + +“No,--no!” she said; “not so bad as that! He would never have done that. +He has never had it. He has gone away; we don't know where. It came from +the dead-letter office.” + +Dolly took the letter from her and opened it slowly, and there, as she +knelt, read it, word for word, as if it had been something she had never +seen before. Then she put it back into the envelope and laid it down. + +“A dead letter!” she said. “A dead letter! If _he_ had sent it back to +me, I think it would have cured me; but _now_ there is no cure for me at +all. If he had read it, he would have come,--if he had _only_ read it; +but it is a dead letter, and he is gone.” + +There were no tears, the blow had been too heavy. It was only Aimée +who had tears to shed, and it was Dolly who tried to console her in a +strained, weary sort of way. + +“Don't cry,” she said, “it is all over now. Perhaps the worst part of +the pain is past. There will be no house at Putney, and the solitary +rose-bush will bloom for some one else; they may sell the green sofa, +now, as cheap as they will, we shall never buy it. Our seven years of +waiting have all ended in a dead letter.” + + + +CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + +AND so Grif disappeared from the haunts of Vagabondia, and was seen no +more. And to Aimée was left the delicate task of explaining the cause +of his absence, which, it must be said, she did in a manner at once +creditable to her tact and affection for both Dolly and the unconscious +cause of all her misery. + +“There has been a misunderstanding,” she said, “which was no fault +of Dolly's, and scarcely a fault of Grif's; and it has ended very +unhappily, and Grif has gone away, and just at present it seems as if +everything was over,--but I can't help hoping it is not so bad as that.” + +“Oh, he will come back again--safe enough,” commented Phil, +philosophically, holding paint-brush No. 1 in his mouth, while he +manipulated with No. 2. “He will come back in sackcloth and ashes; he is +just that sort, you know,--thunder and lightning, fire and tow. And they +will make it up ecstatically in secret, and pretend that nothing has +been the matter, and there will be no going into the parlor for weeks +without whistling all the way across the hall.” + +“I always go in backward after they have had a quarrel,” said Mollie, +looking up from a half-made pinafore of Tod's, which, in the zeal of her +repentance, she had decided on finishing. + +“Not a bad plan, either,” said Phil “We all know how _their_ differences +of opinion terminate. As to matters being at an end between them, that +is all nonsense; they could n't live without each other six months. +Dolly would take to unbecoming bonnets, and begin to neglect her back +hair, and Grif would take to prussic acid or absinthe.” + +“Well, I hope he _will_ come back,” said Aimée; “but, in the meantime, I +want to ask you to let the affair rest altogether, and not say a word to +Dolly when she comes. It will be the kindest thing you can do. Just let +things go on as they have always done, and ignore every thing new you +may see.” + +Phil looked up from his easel in sudden surprise; something in her +voice startled him, serenely as he was apt to view all unexpected +intelligence. + +“I say,” he broke out, “you don't mean that Dolly is very much cut up +about it?” + +The fair little oracle hesitated; remembering Dolly's passionate despair +and grief over that “dead letter,” she could scarcely trust herself to +speak. + +“Yes,” she answered at last, feeling it would be best only to commit +herself in Phil's own words, “she is very much cut up.” + +“Whew!” whistled Phil; “that is worse than I thought!” And the matter +ended in his going back to his picture and painting furiously for a few +minutes, with an almost reflective air. + +They did not see anything of Dolly for weeks. She wrote to them now and +then, but she did not pay another visit to Bloomsbury Place. It was +not the old home to her now, and she dreaded seeing it in its new +aspect,--the aspect which was desolate of Grif. Most of her letters +came to Aimée; but she rarely referred to her trouble, rather seeming to +avoid it than otherwise. And the letters themselves were bright enough, +seeming, too. She had plenty to say about Miss MacDowlas and their +visitors and her own duties; indeed, any one but Aimée would have been +puzzled by her courage and apparent good spirits. But Aimée saw below +the surface, and understood, and, understanding, was fonder of her than +ever. + +As both Dolly and herself had expected, Mollie did not keep her secret +from the oracle many weeks. It was too much for her to bear alone, and +one night, in a fit of candor and remorse, she poured out everything +from first to last, all her simple and unsophisticated dreams of +grandeur, all her gullibility, all her danger,--everything, indeed, but +the story of her pitiful little fancy for Ralph Gowan. She could not +give that up, even to Aimée, though at the close of her confidence she +was unable to help referring to him. + +“And as to Mr. Gowan,” she said, “how can I ever speak to him again! +but, perhaps, he would not speak to me. He must think I am wicked and +bold and hardened--and bad,” with a fresh sob at every adjective. “Oh, +dear! oh, dear!” burying her face in Aimée's lap, “if I had only stayed +at home and been good, like you. He could have respected me, at least, +couldn't he? And now--oh, what am I to do!” + +Aimée could not help sighing. If she only _had_ stayed at home, how much +happier they all might have been! But she had promised Dolly not to add +to her unhappiness by hinting at the truth, so she kept her own counsel. + +It was fully three months before they saw Ralph Gowan again. He had gone +on the Continent, they heard. A feeling of delicacy had prompted the +journey. As long as he remained in London, he could scarcely drop out +of his old friendly position at Bloomsbury Place, and he felt that for +a while at least Mollie would scarcely find it easy to face him. So he +went away and rambled about until he thought she would have time to get +over her first embarrassment. + +But at the end of the three months he came back, and one afternoon +surprised them all by appearing amongst them again. Mollie, sitting +perseveringly at work over her penitential sewing, shrank a little, +and dropped her eyelids when he came in, but she managed to behave +with creditable evenness of manner after all, and the rest welcomed him +warmly. + +“I have been to Brabazon Lodge,” he said at length to Aimée. “I spent +Monday evening there, and was startled at the change I found in your +sister. I did not know she was ill.” + +Aimée started herself, and looked up at him with a frightened face. + +“Ill!” she said. “Did you say ill?” + +It was his turn to be surprised then. + +“I thought her looking ill,” he answered. “She seemed to me to be both +paler and thinner. But you must not let me alarm you,--I thought, of +course, that you would know.” + +“She has never mentioned it in her letters,” Aimée said. “And she has +not been home for three months, so we have not seen her.” + +“Don't let me give you a false impression,” returned Gowan, eagerly. +“She seemed in excellent spirits, and was quite her old self; indeed, I +scarcely should imagine that she herself placed sufficient stress upon +the state of her health. She insisted that she was well when I spoke to +her about it.” + +“I am very glad you told me,” answered Aimée. “She is too indifferent +sometimes. I am afraid she would not have let us know. I thank you, very +much.” + +He had other thanks before he left the house. As he was going out, +Mollie, in her character of porteress, opened the hall door for +him, and, having opened it, stood there with Tod's new garment +half concealed, a pair of timid eyes uplifted to his face, a small, +trembling, feverish hand held out. + +“Mr. Gowan,” she said, in a low, fluttering voice. “Oh, if you please--” + +He took the little hot hand, feeling some tender remorse for not having +tried to draw her out more and help her out of her painful shyness and +restraint. + +“What is it, Mollie?” he asked. + +“I want--I want,” fluttering all over,--“I want to thank you better than +I did that--that dreadful night. I was so frightened I could scarcely +understand. I understand more--now--and I want to tell you how grateful +I am--and how grateful I shall be until I die--and I want to ask you to +try not to think I was very wicked. I did not mean to be wicked--I was +only vain and silly, and I thought it would be such a grand thing to--to +have plenty of new dresses,” hanging her sweet, humble face, “and to +wear diamonds, and be Lady Chandos, if--if Mr. Chandos came into the +title. Of course that was wicked, but it was n't--I was n't as bad as I +seemed. I was so vain that--that I was quite sure he loved me, and would +be very glad if I married him. He always said he would.” And the tears +rolled fast down her cheeks. + +“Poor Mollie!” said Gowan, patting the trembling hand as if it had been +a baby's. “Poor child!” + +“But,” Mollie struggled on, penitently, “I shall never be so foolish +again. And I am going to try to be good--like Aimée. I am learning to +mend things; and I am beginning to make things for Tod. This,” holding +up her work as proof, “is a dress for him. It is n't very well done,” + with innocent dubiousness; “but Aimée says I am improving. And so, if +you please, would you be so kind as not to think quite so badly of me?” + +It was all so humble and pretty and remorseful that he was quite +touched by it. That old temptation to kiss and console her made it +quite dangerous for him to linger. She was such a lovable sight with her +tear-wet cheeks, and that dubious but faithfully worked-at garment of +Tod's in her hand. + +“Mollie,” he said, “will you believe what I say to you?” + +“Oh, yes!” eagerly. + +“Then I say to you that I never believed you wicked for an instant,--not +for one instant; and now I believe it less than ever; on the contrary, +I believe you are a good, honest little creature. Let us forget Gerald +Chandos,--he is not worth remembering. And go on with Tod's pinafores +and dresses, my dear, and don't be discouraged if they are a failure at +first,--though to my eyes that dress is a most sumptuous affair. And +as to being like Aimée, you cannot be like any one better and wiser and +sweeter than that same little maiden. There! I mean every word I have +said.” + +“Are you sure?” faltered Mollie. + +“Yes,” he replied, “quite sure.” + +He shook hands with her, and, bidding her goodnight, left her standing +in the narrow hall all aglow with joy. And he, outside, was communing +with himself as he walked away. + +“She is as sweet in her way as--as the other,” he was saying. “And as +well worth loving. And what a face she has, if one only saw it with a +lover's eyes! What a face she has, even seeing it with such impartial +eyes as mine!” + +“My dear Dolly!” said Aimée. + +“My dear Aimée!” said Dolly. + +These were the first words the two exchanged when, the evening after +Ralph Gowan's visit, the anxious young oracle presented herself at +Brabazon Lodge, and was handed into Dolly's bedroom. + +Visitors were expected, and Dolly had been dressing, and was just +putting the finishing touches to her toilet when Aimée came in, and, +seeing her as she turned from the glass to greet her, the wise one could +scarcely speak, and, even after she had been kissed most heartily, could +only hold the girl's hand and stand looking up into her changed face, +feeling almost shocked. + +“Oh, dear me, Dolly!” she said again. “Oh, my dear, what have you been +doing to yourself?” + +“Doing!” echoed Dolly, just as she would have spoken three or four +months ago. “I have been doing nothing, and rather enjoying it. What is +the matter with me?” glancing into the mirror. “Pale? That is the result +of Miss MacDowlas's beneficence, you see. She has presented me with this +grand black silk gown, and it makes me look pale. Black always did, you +know.” + +But notwithstanding her readiness of speech, it did not need another +glance to understand what Ralph Gowan had meant when he said that she +was altered. The lustreless heavy folds of her black silk might contrast +sharply with her white skin, but they could not bring about that subtle, +almost incomprehensible change in her whole appearance. It was such a +subtle change that it was difficult to comprehend. The round, lissome +figure she had always been so pardonably vain about, and Grif had so +admired, had fallen a little, giving just a hint at a greater change +which might show itself sooner or later; her face seemed a trifle more +clearly cut than it ought to have been, and the slender throat, set in +its surrounding Elizabethan frill of white, seemed more slender than +it had used to be. Each change was slight enough in itself, but all +together gave a shadowy suggestion of alteration to affectionately quick +eyes. + +“You are ill,” said Aimée. “And you never told me. It was wrong of you. +Don't tell me it is your black dress; your eyes are too big and bright +for any one who is well, and your hand is thinner than it ever was +before. Why, I can feel the difference as I hold it, and it is as +feverish as it can be.” + +“You good, silly little thing!” said Dolly, laughing. “I am not ill at +all. I have caught a cold, perhaps, but that is all.” + +“No you have not,” contradicted Aimée, with pitiful sharpness. “You have +not caught cold, and you must not tell me so. You are ill, and you have +been ill for weeks. The worst of colds could never make you look like +this. Mr. Gowan might well be startled and wonder--” + +“Mr. Gowan!” Dolly interrupted her. “Did _he_ say that he was startled?” + +“Yes, he did,” Aimée answered. “And that was what brought me here. He +was at Bloomsbury Place last night and told me all about you, and I made +up my mind that minute that I would come and judge for myself.” + +Then the girl gave in. She sat down on a chair by the dressing-table +and rested her forehead on her hand, laughing faintly, as if in protest +against her own subjugation. + +“Then I shall have to submit,” she said. “The fact is, I sometimes fancy +I do feel weaker than I ought to. It is n't like me to be weak. I +was always so strong, you know,--stronger than all the rest of you, +I thought. Miss MacDowlas says I do not look well. I suppose,” with a +half-sigh, “that every one will see it soon. Aimée,” hesitating, “don't +tell them at home.” + +Aimée slipped an arm around her, and drew her head--dressed in all the +old elaborateness of pretty coils and braids--upon her own shoulder. + +“Darling,” she whispered, trying to restrain her tears, “I must tell +them at home, because I must take you home to be nursed.” + +“No, no!” said Dolly, starting, “that would never do. It would never +do even to think of it. I am not so ill as that,--not ill enough to be +nursed. Besides,” her voice sinking all at once, “I could n't go home, +Aimée,--I could not bear to go home now. That is why I have stayed away +so long. I believe it would _kill_ me!” + +It was impossible for Aimée to hear this and be silent longer. She had, +indeed, only been waiting for some reference to the past. + +“I knew it was that,” she cried. “I knew it the moment Mr. Gowan told +me. And I have feared it from the first. Nothing but that could have +broken you down like this. Dolly, if Grif could see you now, he would +give his heart's blood to undo what he has done.” + +The pale little hands lying upon the black dress began to tremble in a +strange, piteous weakness. + +“One cannot forget so much in so short a time,” Dolly pleaded. “And it +is so much,--more than even you think. One cannot forget seven years in +three months,--give me seven months, Aimée. I shall be better in time, +when I have forgotten.” + +Forgotten! Even those far duller of perception than Aimée could have +seen that she would not soon forget. She had not begun in the right way +to forget. The pain which had made the pretty figure and the soft, round +face look faintly worn, was sharper to-day than it had been even three +months before, and it was gaining in sharpness every day, nay, every +hour. + +“The days are so long,” she said, plaiting the silk of her dress on-the +restless hands. “We are so quiet, except when we have visitors, and +somehow visitors begin to tire me. I scarcely ever knew what it was +to be tired before. I don't care even to scatter the Philistines now,” + trying to smile. “I am not even roused by the prospect of meeting Lady +Augusta tonight. I forgot to tell you she was coming, did n't I? How she +would triumph if she knew how I have fallen and--and how miserable I +am! She used to say I had not a thought above the cut of my dresses. She +never knew about--_him_, poor fellow!” + +It was curious to see how she still clung to that tender old pitying way +of speaking of Grif. + +Aimee began to cry over her again. + +“You must come home, Dolly,” she said. “You must, indeed. You will get +worse and worse if you stay here. I will speak to Miss MacDowlas myself. +You say she is kind to you.” + +“Dear little woman,” said Dolly, closing her eyes as she let her head +rest upon the girl's shoulder. “Dear, kind little woman! indeed it will +be best for me to stay here. It is as I said,--indeed it is. If I were +to go home I should _die!_ Oh, don't you _know_ how cruel it would be! +To sit there in my chair and see his old place empty,--to sit and +hear the people passing in the street and know I should never hear his +footstep again,--to see the door open again and again, and know he would +never, never pass through. It would break my heart,--it would break my +heart!” + +“It is broken now!” cried Aimée, in a burst of grief, and she could +protest no more. + +But she remained as long as she well could, petting and talking to her. +She knew better than to offer her threadbare commonplace comfort, so +she took refuge in talking of life at Bloomsbury Place,--about Tod and +Mollie and Toinette, and the new picture Phil was at work upon. But it +was a hard matter for her to control herself sufficiently to conceal +that she was almost in an agony of anxiousness and foreboding. What was +she to do with this sadly altered Dolly, the mainspring of whose bright, +spirited life was gone? How was she to help her if she could not restore +Grif,--it was only Grif she wanted,--and where was he? It was just +as she had always said it would be,--without Grif, Dolly was Dolly +no longer,--for Grif's sake her faithful, passionate girl's heart was +breaking slowly. + +Lady Augusta, encountering her ex-governess in the drawing-room that +evening, raised her eyeglass to that noble feature, her nose, and +condescended a questioning inspection, full of disapproval of the heavy, +well-falling black silk and the Elizabethan frill. + +“You are looking shockingly pale and thin,” she said. + +Dolly glanced at her reflection in an adjacent mirror. She only smiled +faintly, in silence. + +“I was not aware that you were ill,” proceeded her ladyship. + +“I cannot say that I am ill,” Dolly answered. “How is Phemie?” + +“Euphemia,” announced Lady Augusta, “is well, and I _trust_” as if she +rather doubted her having so far overcome old influences of an evil +nature,--“I _trust_ improving, though I regret to hear from her +preceptress that she is singularly deficient in application to her +musical lessons.” + +Dolly thought of the professor with the lumpy face, and smiled again. +Phemie's despairing letters to herself sufficiently explained why her +progress was so slow. + +“I hope,” said her ladyship to Miss MacDowlas, afterward, “that you +are satisfied with Dorothea's manner of filling her position in your +household.” + +“I never was so thoroughly satisfied in my life,” returned the old lady, +stiffly. “She is a very quickwitted, pleasantly natured girl, and I am +extremely fond of her.” + +“Ah,” waving a majestic and unbending fan of carved ivory. “She has +possibly improved then. I observe that she is going off very much,--in +the matter of looks, I mean.” + +“I heard a gentleman remark, a few minutes ago,” replied Miss MacDowlas, +“that the girl looked like a white rose, and I quite agreed with him; +but I am fond of her, as I said, and you are not.” + +Her ladyship shuddered faintly, but she did not make any further +comment, perhaps feeling that her hostess was too powerful to encounter. + +At midnight the visitors went their several ways, and after they had +dispersed and the rooms were quiet once again, Miss MacDowlas sent her +companion to bed, or, at least, bade her good-night. + +“You had better go at once,” she said. “I will remain to give orders to +the servants. You look tired. The excitement has been too much for you.” + +So Dolly thanked her and left the room; but Miss MacDowlas did not hear +her ascend the stairs, and accordingly, after listening a moment or so, +went to the room door and looked out into the hall. And right at the +foot of the staircase lay Dolly Crewe, the lustreless, trailing black +dress making her skin seem white as marble, her pretty face turned half +downward upon her arm. + +Half an hour later the girl returned to consciousness to find herself +lying comfortably in bed, the chamber empty save for herself and Miss +MacDowlas, who was standing at her side watching her. + +“Better?” she said. “That is right, my dear. The evening was too much +for you, as I was afraid it would be. You are not as strong as you +should be.” + +“No,” Dolly answered, quietly. + +There was a silence of a few minutes, during which she closed her eyes +again; but she heard Miss MacDowlas fidgeting a little, and at last she +heard her speak. + +“My dear,” she said, “I think I ought to tell you something. When you +fell, I suppose you must somehow or other have pressed the spring of +your locket, for it was open when I went to you, and--I saw the face +inside it.” + +“Grif,” said Dolly, in a tired voice, “Grif.” + +And then she remembered how she had written to him about what this very +_dénouement_ would be when it came. How strange, how wearily strange, it +was to think that it should come about in such a way as this! + +“My nephew,” said Miss MacDowlas. “Griffith Donne.” + +“Yes,” said Dolly, briefly. “I was engaged to him.” + +“Was!” echoed Miss MacDowlas. “Did he behave badly to you, my dear?” + +“No, I behaved badly to him--and that is why I am ill.” + +Miss MacDowlas blew her nose. + +“How long?” she asked, at length. “May I ask how long you were engaged +to each other, my dear? Don't answer me if you do not wish.” + +“I was engaged to him,” faltered the girlish voice,--“we were all the +world to each other for seven years--for seven long years.” + + + +CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + +IN the morning of one of the hot days in June, Mollie, standing at the +window of Phil's studio, turned suddenly toward the inmates of the room +with an exclamation. + +“Phil!” she said, “Toinette! There is a carriage drawing up before the +door.” + +“Lady Augusta?” said Toinette, making a dart at Tod. + +“Confound Lady Augusta!” ejaculated Phil, devoutly. “That woman has a +genius for presenting herself at inopportune times.” + +“But it is n't Lady Augusta,” Mollie objected. “It is n't the Bilberry +carriage at all. Do you think I don't know 'the ark'?” + +“You ought to by this time,” returned Phil. “I do, to my own deep +grief.” + +“It is the Brabazon Lodge carriage!” cried Mollie, all at once. “Miss +MacDowlas is getting out, and--yes, here is Dolly!” + +“And Tod just washed and dressed!” said Mrs. Phil, picking up her +offspring with an air of self-congratulation. “Miracle of miracles! The +Fates begin to smile upon us. Phil, how is my back hair?” + +“All right,” returned Phil. “I suppose I shall have to present myself, +too.” + +It was necessary that they should all present themselves, they found. +Miss MacDowlas wished to form the acquaintance of the whole family, it +appeared, and apart from this her visit had rather an important object. + +“It is a sort of farewell visit,” she explained, “though, of course, the +farewell is only to be a temporary one. We find London too hot for us, +and we are going to try Switzerland. The medical man thinks a change +will be beneficial to your sister.” + +They all looked at Dolly then,--at Dolly in her delicate, crisp summer +bravery and her pretty summer hat; but it was neither hat nor dress that +drew their eyes upon her all at once in that new questioning way. But +Dolly only laughed,--a soft, nervous laugh, however,--and played with +her much-frilled parasol. + +“Miss MacDowlas,” she said, “is good enough to fancy I am not so well as +I ought to be, Tod,” bending her face low over the pretty little +fellow, who had trotted to her knee. “What do you think of Aunt Dolly's +appearing in the character of invalid? It sounds like the best of jokes, +does n't it, Tod?” + +They tried to smile responsively, all of them, but the effort was not a +success. Despite all her pretence of brightness and coquettish attire, +there was not one of them who had not been startled when their first +greeting was over. Under the triumph of a hat, her face showed almost +sharply cut, her skin far too transparently colorless, her eyes much too +large and bright. The elaborately coiled braids of hair seemed almost +too heavy for the slender throat to bear, and no profusion of trimming +could hide that the little figure was worn. The flush and glow and +spirit had died away from her. It was not the Dolly who had been wont +to pride herself upon ruling supreme in Vagabondia, who sat there before +them making them wonder; it was a new creature, who seemed quite a +stranger to them. + +They were glad to see how fond of her Miss MacDowlas appeared to be. +They had naturally not had a very excellent opinion of Miss MacDowlas in +the past days; but the fact that Dolly had managed to so win upon her as +to bring out her best side, quite softened their hearts. She was not +so grim, after all. Her antipathy to Grif had evidently been her most +unpleasant peculiarity, and now, seeing her care for this new Dolly, who +needed care so much, they were rather touched. + +When the farewells had been said, the carriage had driven away, and they +had returned to the studio, a silence seemed to fall upon them, one and +all. 'Toinette sat in her chair, holding Tod, without speaking; Mollie +stood near her with a wondering, downcast air; Phil went to the window, +and, neglecting his picture wholly for the time being, looked out into +the street, whistling softly. + +At length he turned round to Aimée. + +“Aimée,” he said, abruptly, “how long has this been going on?” + +“You mean this change?” said Aimée, in a low voice. + +“Yes.” + +“For three months,” she answered. “I did not like to tell you because +I knew _she_ would not like it; but it dates from the time Grif went +away.” + +Mrs. Phil burst into an impetuous gush of tears, hiding her handsome, +girlish face on Tod's neck. + +“It is a shame!” she cried out. “It is a cruel, burning shame! Who would +ever have thought of Grif's treating her like this?” + +“Yes,” said Phil; “and who would ever have thought that Dolly would +have broken down? Dolly! By George! I can't believe it. If I am able to +judge, it seems time that she should try Switzerland or somewhere else. +Aimée, has she heard nothing of him?” + +“Nothing.” + +The young man flushed hotly. + +“Confound it!” he burst forth. “It looks as if the fellow was a +dishonorable scamp. And yet he is the last man I should ever have +fancied would prove a scamp.” + +“But he has not proved himself a scamp yet,” said Aimée, in a troubled +tone. “And Dolly would not like to hear you say so. And if you knew the +whole truth you _wouldn't_ say so. He has been tried too far, and he has +been impetuous and rash, but it was his love for Dolly that made him so. +And wherever he may be, Phil, I know he is as wretched and hopeless as +Dolly herself could be at the worst. It has all been misunderstanding +and mischance.” + +“He has broken Dolly's heart, nevertheless,” cried Mrs. Phil. “And if +she dies--” + +“Dies!” cried out Mollie, opening her great eyes and turning pale all at +once. “Dies! Dolly?” + +“Hush!” said Aimée, trembling and losing color herself. “Oh, +hush!--don't say such things. It sounds so dreadful,--it is too dreadful +to think of!” + +And so it came about that on another of these hot June days there +appeared at the _table à hôte_ of a certain well-conducted and already +well-filled inn at Lake Geneva two new arrivals,--a tall, thin, elderly +lady of excessively English exterior, and a young person who attracted +some attention,--a girl who wore a long black dress, and had a +picturesque Elizabethan frill about her too slender throat, and who, +in spite of her manner and the clearness of her bright voice, was too +whitely transparent of complexion and too finely cut of face to look as +strong as a girl of one or two and twenty ought to be. + +The people who took stock of them, after the manner of all unoccupied +hotel sojourners on the lookout for sensations, noticed this. One or +two of them even observed that, on entering the room after the slight +exertion of descending the staircase, the girl was slightly out of +breath and seemed glad to sit down, and that, her companion evidently +making some remark upon the fact, she half laughed, as if wishing to +make light of it; and they noticed, too, that her naturally small hands +were so very slender that her one simple little ring of amethyst and +pearls slipped loosely up and down her finger. + +They were not ordinary tourists, these new arrivals, it was clear. Their +attire told that at once. They had removed their travelling dresses, and +looked as if they had quite made up their minds to enjoy their customary +mode of life as if they had been at home. They had no courier, +the wiseacres had ascertained, and they had brought a neat English +serving-woman, who seemed to know her business marvellously well and be +by no means unaccustomed to travelling. + +“Aunt and niece!” commented one gentleman, surveying Dolly over his +soup. “A nice little creature,--the niece.” And he mentally resolved to +cultivate her acquaintance. But it was not such an easy matter. The new +arrivals were unlike ordinary tourists in other respects than in +their settled mode of life. They did not seem to care to form chance +acquaintance with their fellow guests. They lived quietly and, unless +when driving out together or taking short, unfatiguing strolls, remained +much in their own apartments. They appeared at the _table d'hôte_ +occasionally; but though they were pleasant in manner they were not +communicative, and so, after a week or so, people tired of asking +questions about them and lapsed into merely exchanging greetings, +and looking on with some interest at any changes they observed in the +pretty, transparent, though always bright face, and the pliant, soft +young figure. + +Thus Miss MacDowlas and her companion “tried Switzerland.” + +“It will do you good, my dear, and brace you up,” the elder lady had +said; and from the bottom of her heart she had hoped it would. + +And did it? + +Well, the last time Dolly had “tried Switzerland,” she had tried it in +the capacity of Lady Augusta's governess, and she had held in charge +a host of rampant young Bilberrys, who secretly loathed their daily +duties, and were not remarkable in the matter of filial piety, and were +only reconciled to existence by the presence of their maternal parent's +greatest trial, that highly objectionable Dorothea Crewe. So, taking +Lady Augusta in conjunction with her young charges, the girl had often +felt her lot by no means the easiest in the world; but youth and spirit, +and those oft-arriving letters, had helped her to bear a great deal, +and so there was still something sweet about the memory. Oh, those +old letters--those foolish, passionate, tender letters--written in the +dusty, hot London office, read with such happiness, and answered on such +closely penned sheets of foreign paper! How she had used to watch for +them, and carry them to her small bedroom and read them again and again, +kneeling on the floor by the open window, the fresh, soft summer breezes +from the blue lake far below stirring her hair and kissing her forehead! +How doubly and trebly fair she had been wont to fancy everything looked +on that “letter day” of hers,--that red-letter day,--that golden-letter +day! + +The very letters she had written then lay in her trunk now, tied +together in a bundle, just as Grif had brought them and laid them down +upon the table when he gave her up forever. Her “dead letter” lay with +them,--that last, last appeal, which had never reached his heart, and +never would. She had written her last letter to him, and he his last to +her. + +And now she had been brought to “try Switzerland” and Lake Geneva as a +Lethe. + +But she had determined to be practical and courageous, and bear it as +best she might. It would not have been like her to give way at once +without a struggle. She did not believe in lovelorn damsels, who pined +away and died of broken hearts, and made all their friends uncomfortable +by so doing. She made a struggle, and refused to give up. She grew +shadowy and fair; but it was under protest, and she battled against the +change she felt creeping upon her so slowly but so surely. She showed +a brave face to people, and tried to be as bright and ready-witted +as ever; and if she failed it was not her own fault. She fought hard +against her sleepless nights and weary days; and when she lay awake +hour after hour hearing the clock strike, it was not because she made +no effort to compose herself, it was only because the delicate wheels +of thought _would_ work against her helpless will, and it was worse than +useless to close her eyes when she could see so plainly her lost +lover's desperate, anguished face, and hear so distinctly his strained, +strangely altered voice: “No, it is too late for that now,--that is all +over!” And he had once loved her better than his life! + +So it was that, try as she might, she could not make Switzerland a +success. When she went down to the table d'hôte, people saw that instead +of growing stronger she was growing more frail, and the exertion of +coming down the long flight of stairs tried her more than it had seemed +to do that first day. Sometimes she had a soft, lovely, dangerous color +on her cheeks, and her eyes looked almost translucent; and then again +the color was gone, her skin was white and transparent, and her eyes +were shadowy and languid. When the hot July days came in, the ring of +pearls and amethyst would stay on the small worn hand no longer, and so +was taken off and hung with the little bunch of coquettish “charms” upon +her chain. But she was not conquered yet, and the guests and servants +often heard her laughing, and making Miss MacDowlas laugh as they sat +together in their private parlor. + +The two were sitting thus together one Saturday early in July,--Dolly in +a loose white wrapper, resting in a low basket chair by the open window, +and fanning herself languidly,--when a visitor was announced, and the +moment after the announcement a tall young lady rushed into the room +and clasped Dolly unceremoniously in her arms, either not observing or +totally ignoring Miss MacDowlas's presence. + +“Dolly!” she cried, kneeling down by the basket chair and speaking so +fast that her words tumbled over each other, and her sentences were +curiously mingled. “Oh! if you please, dear, I know it was n't polite, +and I never meant to do it in such an unexpected, awfully rude way; and +what mamma would say, I am sure I cannot tell, unless go into dignified +convulsions, and shudder herself stiff; but how could I help it, when +I came expecting to see you as bright and lovely as ever, and caught a +glimpse of you through the door, as the servant spoke, sitting here so +white and thin and tired-looking! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how ever can it +be!” + +“My dear Phemie!” said Dolly, laughing and crying both at once, through +weakness and sympathy,--for of course poor, easily moved Phemie had +burst into a flood of affectionate tears. “My dear child, how excited +you are, and how pleasant it is to see you! How did you manage to come?” + +“The professor with the lumpy face--poor, pale darling--I mean you, not +him,” explained the eldest Miss Bilberry, clinging to her ex-governess +as if she was afraid of seeing her float through the open window. “The +professor with the lumpy face, Dolly; which shows he is not so horrid as +I always thought him, and I am very sorry for being so inconsiderate, I +am sure--you know he cannot help his lumps any more than I can help my +dreadful red hands and my dresses not fitting.” + +Dolly stopped her here to introduce her to Miss MacDowlas; and that +lady having welcomed her good-naturedly, and received her incoherent +apologies for her impetuous lack of decorum, the explanation proceeded. + +“How could the professor send you here?” asked Dolly. + +“He did not exactly send me, but he helped me,” replied the luckless +Euphemia, becoming a trifle more coherent. “I saw you at the little +church, though you did not see me, because, of course, we sit in the +most disagreeable part, just where we can't see or be seen at all. And +though I only saw you at a distance, and through your veil, and half +behind a pillar, I knew you, and knew Miss MacDowlas. I think I knew +Miss MacDowlas most because she _wasn't_ behind the pillar. And it +nearly drove me crazy to think you were so near, and I gave one of the +servants some money to find out where you were staying, and she brought +me word that you were staying here, and meant to stay. And then I +asked the lady principal to let me come and see you, and of course +she refused; and I never should have been able to come at all, only it +chanced that was my music-lesson day, and I went in to the professor +with red eyes,--I had cried so,--and when he asked me what I had been +crying for, I remembered that he used to be fond of you, and I told +him. And he was sorry for me, and promised to ask leave for me. He is a +cousin of the lady principal, and a great favorite with her. And the end +of it was that they let me come. And I have almost flown. I had to wait +until to-day, you know, because it was Saturday.” + +It was quite touching to see how, when she stopped speaking, she clung +to Dolly's hands, and looked at her with wonder and grief in her face. + +“What is it that has changed you so?” she said. “You are not like +yourself at all. Oh, my dear, how ill you are!” + +A wistful shadow showed itself in the girl's eyes. + +“_Am_ I so much changed?” she asked. + +“You do not look like our Dolly at all,” protested Phemie. “You are +thin,--oh, so thin! What _is_ the matter?” + +“Thin!” said Dolly. “Am I? Then I must be growing ugly enough. Perhaps +it is to punish me for being so vain about my figure. Don't you remember +what a dread I always had of growing thin? Just to think that _I_ should +grow thin, after all! Do my bones stick out like the Honorable Cecilia +Howland's, Phemie?” And she ended with a little laugh. + +Phemie kissed her, in affectionate protest against such an idea. + +“Oh, dear, no!” she said. “They could n't, you know. They are not +the kind of bones to do it. Just think of her dreadful elbows and her +fearful shoulder-blades! You couldn't look like her. I don't mean that +sort of thinness at all. But you seem so light and so little. And look +here,” and she held up the painfully small hand, the poor little hand +without the ring. “There are no dimples here now, Dolly,” she said, +sorrowfully. + +“No,” answered Dolly, simply; and the next minute, as she drew her hand +away, there fluttered from her lips a sigh. + +She managed to change the turn of conversation after this. Miss +MacDowlas had good-naturedly left them alone, and so she began to ask +Phemie questions,--questions about school and lessons and companions, +about the lady principal and the under-teachers and about the professor +with the lumpy face; and, despite appearances being against her, there +was still the old ring in her girl's jests. + +“Has madame got a new bonnet yet,” she asked, “or does she still wear +the old one with those aggressive-looking spikes of wheat in it? The +lean ears ought to have eaten up the fat ones by this time.” + +“But they have n't,” returned Phemie. “They are there yet, Dolly. Just +the same spikes in the same bonnet, only she has had new saffron-colored +ribbon put on it, just the shade of her skin.” + +Dolly shuddered,--Lady Augusta's own semi-tragic shudder, if Phemie had +only recognized it. + +“Phemie,” she said, with a touch of pardonable anxiety, “ill as I look, +I am not that color, am I? To lose one's figure and grow thin is bad +enough, but to become like Madame Pillet--dear me!” shaking her head. “I +scarcely think I could reconcile myself to existence.” + +Phemie laughed. “You are not changed in one respect, Dolly,” she said. +“When I hear you talk it makes me feel quite--quite safe.” + +“Safe!” Dolly echoed. “You mean to say that so long as I preserve my +constitutional vanity, your anxiety won't overpower you. But--but,” + looking at her curiously, “did you think at first that I was not safe, +as you call it?” + +“You looked so ill,” faltered Phemie. “And--I was so startled.” + +“Were you?” asked Dolly. “Did I shock you?” + +“A little--only just a little, dear,” deprecatingly. + +Then strangely enough fell upon them a silence. Dolly turned toward the +window, and her eyes seemed to fix themselves upon some far-away point, +as if she was pondering over a new train of thought. And when at last +she spoke, her voice was touched with the tremulous unsteadiness of +tears. + +“Do you think,” she said, slowly,--“do you think that _any one_ who had +loved me would be shocked to see me now? Am I so much altered as +that? One scarcely sees these things one's self,--they come to pass so +gradually.” + +All poor Phemie's smiles died away. + +“Don't let us talk about it,” she pleaded. “I cannot bear to hear you +speak so. Don't, dear--if you please, don't!” + +Her pain was so evident that it roused Dolly at once. + +“I won't, if it troubles you,” she said, almost in her natural manner. +“It does not matter,--why should it? There is no one here to be shocked. +I was only wondering.” + +But the shadow did not quite leave her face, and even when, an hour +later, Euphemia bade her good-by and left her, promising to return again +as soon as possible, it was there still. + +She was very, very quiet for a few minutes after she found herself +alone. She clasped her hands behind her head, and lay back in the light +chair, looking out of the window. She was thinking so deeply that she +did not even stir for a while; but in the end she got up, as though +moved by some impulse, and crossed the room. + +Against the wall hung a long, narrow mirror, and she went to this mirror +and stood before it, looking at herself from head to foot,--at her +piteously sharpened face, with its large, wondering eyes, eyes that +wondered at themselves,--at the small, light figure so painfully +etherealized, and about which the white wrapper hung so loosely. She +even held up, at last, the slender hand and arm; but when she saw these +uplifted, appealing, as it were, for this sad, new face which did not +seem her own, she broke into a little cry of pain and grief. + +“If you could see me now,” she said, “if you should come here by chance +and see me now, my dear, I think you would not wait to ask whether I had +been true or false. I never laid this white cheek on your shoulder, did +I? Oh, what a changed face it is! I know I was never very pretty, though +you thought so and were proud of me in your tender way, but I was not +like this in those dear old days. Grif, Grif, would you know me,--would +you _know_ me?” And, turning to her chair again, she dropped upon her +knees before it, and knelt there sobbing. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + +THE postman paid frequent visits to Bloomsbury Place during these summer +weeks. At first Dolly wrote often herself, but later it seemed to +fall to Miss MacDowlas to answer Aimée's weekly letters and Mollie's +fortnightly ones. And that lady was a faithful correspondent, and did +her duty as readily as was possible, giving all the news, and recording +all Dolly's messages, and issuing regular bulletins on the subject of +her health. “Your sister,” she sometimes wrote, “is not so well, and I +have persuaded her to allow me to be her amanuensis.” Or, “Your sister +is tired after a rather long drive, and I have persuaded her to +rest while I write at her dictation.” Or sometimes, “Dolly is rather +stronger, and is in excellent spirits, but I do not wish her to exert +herself at present.” But at length a new element crept into these +letters. The cheerful tone gave way to a more dubious one; Dolly's +whimsical messages were fewer and farther between, and sometimes Miss +MacDowlas seemed to be on the verge of hinting that her condition was +a weaker and more precarious one than even she herself had at first +feared. + +Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both +anxious and puzzled. In a very short time after his return he had +awakened to a recognition of some mysterious shadow upon the household. +Vagabondia had lost its spirits. Mrs. Phil and her husband were +almost thoughtful; Tod disported himself unregarded and unadmired, +comparatively speaking; Mollie seemed half frightened by the aspect +affairs were wearing; and Aimee's wise, round face had an older look. +And then these letters! Dolly “trying Switzerland” for her health, Dolly +mysteriously ill and far away from home,--too weak sometimes to write. +Dolly, who had never seemed to have a weakness; who had entered the +lists against even Lady Augusta, and had come off victorious; who +had been mock-worldly, and coquettish, and daring; who had made open +onslaught upon eligible Philistines; who had angled prettily and with +sinful success for ineligible Bohemians! What did it mean? And where was +Donne? Certainly he was never to be seen at Bloomsbury Place or in its +vicinity in these days. + +But, deeply interested as he was, Gowan was not the man to ask +questions; so he could only wait until chance brought the truth to +light. + +He came to the house upon one occasion and found Aimée crying quietly +over one of Miss MacDowlas's letters in the parlor, and in his sympathy +he felt compelled to speak openly to her. + +Then Aimée, heavy of heart and full of despairing grief, handed him the +letter to read. + +“I have known it would be so--from the first,” she sobbed. “We are going +to lose her. Perhaps she will not live to come home again.” + +“You mean Dolly?” he said. + +“Yes,” hysterically. “Miss MacDowlas says--” But she could get no +further. + +This was what Miss MacDowlas said:-- + +“I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is +very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her +increasing weakness lightly. Indeed, I am sure that she herself does +not comprehend her danger. I am inclined to believe that it has not +yet occurred to her that she is in danger at all. She protests that she +cannot be ill so long as she does not suffer; but I, who have watched +her day by day, can see only too plainly where the danger lies. And so I +think it best to warn you to be prepared to come to us at once if at any +time I should send for you hurriedly.” + +“Prepared to go to them!” commented Aimée. “What does that mean? What +can it mean but that our own Dolly is dying, and may slip out of the +world away from us at any moment? Oh, Grif! Grif! what have you done?” + +Gowan closed the letter. + +“Miss Aimée,” he said, “where _is_ Donne?” + +Aimée fairly wrung her hands. + +“I don't know,” she quite wailed. “If I only did--if I only knew where I +could find him!” + +“You don't know!” exclaimed Gowan. “And Dolly dying in Switzerland!” + +“That is it,” she returned. “That is what it all means. If any of us +knew--or if Dolly knew, she would not be dying in Switzerland. It is +because she does not know, that she is dying. She has never seen him +since the night you brought Mollie home. And--and she cannot live +without him.” + +The whole story was told in very few words after this; and Gowan, +listening, began to understand what the cloud upon the house had meant. +He suffered some sharp enough pangs through the discovery, too. The last +frail cords that had bound him to hope snapped as Aimée poured out her +sorrows. He had never been very sanguine of success, but even after +hoping against hope, his tender fancy for Dolly Crewe had died a very +lingering death; indeed, it was not quite dead yet, but he was beginning +to comprehend this old love story more fully, and he had found himself +forced to do his rival greater justice. He could not see his virtues as +the rest saw them, of course, but he was generous enough to pity him, +and see that his lot had been a terribly hard one. + +“There is only one thing to be done,” he said, when Aimée had finished +speaking. “We must find him.” + +“Find him! We cannot find him.” + +“That remains to be proved,” he answered. “Have you been to his +lodgings?” + +“Yes,” mournfully. “And even to the office! He left his lodgings that +very night, paid his bills, and drove away in a cab with his trunk. +Poor Grif! It was n't a very big trunk. He went to the office the next +morning, and told Mr. Flynn he was going to leave London, and one of +the clerks told Phil there was a 'row' between them. Mr. Flynn was angry +because he had not given due notice of his intention. That is all we +know.” + +“And you have not the slightest clew beyond this?” + +“Not the slightest. He spent all his spare time with Dolly, you know; +so there is not even any place of resort, or club, or anything, where we +might go to make inquiries about him.” + +Gowan's countenance fell. He felt the girl's distress keenly, apart from +his own pain. + +“The whole affair seems very much against us,” he said; “but he may--I +say he _may_ be in London still. I am inclined to believe he is myself. +When the first passion of excitement was over, he would find himself +weaker than he fancied he was. It would not be so easy to cut himself +off from the old life altogether. He would long so inexpressibly to +see Dolly again that he could not tear himself away. I think we may +be assured that even if he is not in London, at least he has not left +England.” + +“That was what I have been afraid of,” said Aimée, “that he might have +left England altogether.” + +“I cannot think he has,” Gowan returned. + +They were both silent for a moment. Aimée sat twisting Miss MacDowlas's +letter in her fingers, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. + +“It is all the harder to bear,” she said next, “because Dolly has always +seemed so much of a _reality_ to us. If she had been a pale, ethereal +sort of girl, it might not seem such a shock; but she never was. She +even used to say she could not bear those frail, ethereal people in +books, who were always dying and saying touching things just at the +proper time, and who knew exactly when to call up their agonized friends +to their bedside to see how pathetically and decorously they made their +exit. Oh, my poor darling! To think that she should be fading away and +dying just in the same way! I cannot make it seem real. I cannot think +of her without her color, and her jokes, and her bits of acting, and her +little vanities. She will not be our Dolly at all if they have left her. +There is a dress of hers up-stairs now,--a dress she couldn't bear. +And I remember so well how she lost her temper when she was making it, +because it would n't fit. And when I went into the parlor she was crying +over it, and Grif was trying so hard to console her that at last +she laughed. I can see her now, with the tears in her eyes, looking +half-vexed and half-comforted. And Tod, too,--how fond she was of Tod, +and how proud of him! Ah, Tod,” in a fresh burst, “when you grow up, +the daisies may have been growing for many a year over poor little Aunt +Dolly, and you will have forgotten her quite.” + +“You must not look at the matter in that desponding way,” said Gowan, +quite unsteadily. “We must hope for the best, and do what we can. You +may rely upon me to exert myself to the utmost. If we succeed in +finding Donne I am sure that he will do the rest. Perhaps, next summer +Vagabondia will be as bright as ever,--nay, even brighter than it has +been before.” + +All his sympathies were enlisted, and, hopeless as the task seemed, he +had determined to make strenuous efforts to trace this lost lover. Men +had concealed themselves from their friends, in the world of London, +often before, and this, he felt sure, Griffith Donne was doing; and +since this poor little impassioned, much-tried Dolly was dying in spite +of herself for Griffith Donne's sake, and seemed only to be saved by his +presence, he must even set himself the task of bringing him to light and +clearing up this miserable misunderstanding. Having been Dolly Crewe's +lover, he was still generous enough to wish to prove himself her friend; +yes, and even her luckier lover's friend, though he winced a trifle at +the thought. Accordingly, he left the house that night with his mind +full of half-formed plans, both feasible and otherwise. + +During the remainder of that week he did not call at Bloomsbury Place +again, but at the beginning of the next he made his appearance, bringing +with him a piece of news which excited Aimee terribly. + +“I know I shall startle you,” he said, the moment they were alone +together, “but you can scarcely be more startled than I was myself. I +have been on the lookout constantly, but I did not expect to be rewarded +by success so soon. Indeed, as it is, it has been entirely a matter of +chance. It is as I felt sure it would be. Donne is in London still. +I know that much, though that is all I have learned as yet. Late last +night I caught a glimpse--only a glimpse--of him hurrying through a +by-street. I almost fancied he had seen me and was determined to get out +of the way.” + +“The pretty English girl,” said the guests at the inn, “comes down no +longer to the _table d'hôte!_” “The pretty English girl,” remarked the +wiseacres, “does not even drive out on these days, and the doctor calls +every morning to see her.” + +“And sometimes,” added one of the wisest, “again in the evening.” + +“Consumption,” observed another. + +“Plainly consumption,” nodding significantly. “These English frauleins +are so often consumptive,” commented a third. “It is astonishing to +remark how many come to 'try Switzerland,' as they say.” + +“And die?” + +“And die,--as this one will.” + +“Poor little thing!” with a sigh and a pitying shrug of the shoulders. + +And in the meantime up-stairs the basket chair had been taken away from +the window, and a large-cushioned, chintz-covered couch had been pushed +into its place, and Dolly lay upon it. But luxurious as her couch was, +and balmy as the air was, coming through the widely opened window, she +did not find much rest. The fact was, she was past rest by this time, +she was too weak to rest. The hot days tried her, and her sleepless +nights undermined even her last feeble relic of strength. Sometimes +during the day she felt that she could not lie propped up on the pillows +a moment longer; but when she tried to stand or sit up she was glad +to drop back again into the old place. She lost her breath fearfully +soon,--the least exertion left her panting. + +“If I had a cough,” she said once to Miss MacDowlas, “I could understand +that I was ill--or if I suffered any actual pain, but I don't, and even +the doctor admits that my lungs are safe enough. What is it that he says +about me? Let me see. Ah, this is it: that I am 'below par--fearfully +below par,' as if I was gold, or notes, or bonds, or something. My ideas +on the subject of the money market are indefinite, you see. Ah, well; I +wonder when I shall be 'above par'!” + +She never spoke of her ailments in any other strain. Even as she lay +on her couch, too prostrate to either read or work, she made audacious +satirical speeches, and told Miss MacDowlas stories of Vagabondia, just +as she used to tell them to Grif himself, only that in these days she +could not get up to flourish illustratively; and often after lying for +an hour or so in a dead, heavy, exhausting day-sleep, she opened her +eyes at last, to jest about her faithful discharge of her duties as +companion. Only she herself knew of the fierce battles she so often +fought in secret, when her sore, aching heart cried out so loud for Grif +and would not--_would_ not be comforted. + +She saw Phemie frequently. The much-abused professor had proved himself +a faithful friend to them. He had never been quite able to forget the +little English governess, who had so won upon him in the past, even +though this same young lady, in her anxiety to set Lady Augusta at +defiance, had treated him somewhat cavalierly. Indeed, hearing that she +was ill, he was so touched as to be quite overwhelmed with grief. +He gained Euphemia frequent leaves of absence, and sent messages of +condolence and bouquets,--huge bunches of flowers which made Dolly laugh +even while they pleased her. There was always a bouquet, stiff in form +and gigantic in proportions, when Phemie came. + +At first Phemie caught the contagion of Dolly's own spirit and +hopefulness, and was sustained by it in spite of appearances; but its +influence died out at the end of a few weeks, and even she was not to be +deceived. An awful fear began to force itself upon her,--a fear doubly +awful to poor, susceptible Phemie. Dolly was getting no better; she was +even getting worse every day; she could not sit up; she was thinner and +larger-eyed than ever. Was something going to happen? And at the mere +thought of that possible something she would lose her breath and sit +looking at Dolly, silent, wondering, and awe-stricken. She began to +ponder over this something, as she tried to learn her lessons; she +thought of it as she went to bed and she dreamed of it in the night. +Sometimes when she came in unexpectedly and found Dolly in one of those +prostrate sleeps, she was so frightened that she could have cried out +aloud. + +She came in so one evening at twilight,--the professor had brought her +himself and had promised to escort her home,--and she found Dolly in one +of these sleeps. So, treading lightly, she put the bouquet in water, and +then drew a low chair to the girl's side and sat down to watch and wait +until she should awaken. Miss MacDowlas was in her own room writing +to Aimée; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its quietness, +perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and fear. + +Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow +of her former self. The once soft, round outlines of her face had +grown clear and sharp-cut, the delicate chin had lost its dimple, the +transparent skin upon the temples showed a tracery of blue veins, the +closed eyelids had a strange whiteness and lay upon her eyes heavily. +She did not move,--she seemed scarcely to breathe. Phemie caught her own +breath and held it, lest it should break from her in a sob of grief and +terror. + +This something awful _was_ going to happen! She could not recover +herself even when Dolly wakened and began to talk to her. She could not +think of anything but her own anguish and pity for her friend. She could +not talk and was so silent, indeed, that Dolly became silent too; and +so, as the dusk fell upon them, they sat together in a novel quiet, +listening to a band of strolling musicians, who were playing somewhere +in the distance, and the sound of whose instruments floated to them, +softened and made plaintive by the evening air. + +At last Dolly broke the silence. + +“You are very quiet, Phemie,” she said. “Are you going to sleep?” + +“No,” faltered Phemie, drawing closer to her. “I am thinking.” + +“Thinking. What about?” + +“About you. Dolly, do you--are you very ill--worse than you were?” + +“Very ill!” repeated Dolly, slowly, as if in wonder. “Worse than I was! +Why do you ask?” + +Then Phemie lost self-control altogether. She left her seat and fell +down by the couch, bursting into tears. + +“You are so altered,” she said; “and you alter so much every week. I +cried over your poor, thin little hands when first I came to see you, +but now your wrist looks as if it would snap in two. Oh, Dolly, darling, +if--if you should die!” + +Was it quite a new thought, or was it because it had never come home to +her in such a form before, this thought of Death? She started as if she +had been stung. + +“If I should die!” she echoed. “_Die!_” + +“Phemie, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas, opening the door, “the professor +is waiting down-stairs.” + +And so, having let her sorrow get the better of her, Phemie had no time +to stay to see if her indiscretion had done harm. If she did not go +now, she might not be allowed fresh grace; and so she was fain to tear +herself away. + +“I ought n't to have said it!” she bewailed, as she kissed Dolly again +and again. “Please forget it; oh, do, please, forget it! I did not mean +it, indeed! And now I shall be so frightened and unhappy!” + +“Phemie,” said Dolly, quietly, “you have not frightened _me_; so you +haven't the least need to trouble yourself, my dear.” + +But she was not exactly sorry to be left alone, and when she was alone +her thoughts wandered back to that first evening Phemie had called,--the +evening she had gone to the glass to look at her changed face. She had +sat in the basket-chair then,--she lay back upon her cushions now, and +a crowd of new thoughts came trooping through her mind. The soft air was +scented and balmy; the twilight sky was a dome of purple, jewel-hung; +people's voices came murmuring from the gardens below; the far-off music +floated to her through the window. + +“If I should _die!_” she said, in a wondering whisper,--“I, Dolly Crewe! +How strange it sounds! Have I never thought that I could die before, or +is it strange because now it is so real and near? When I used to talk +about death to Grif, it always seemed so far away from both of us; it +seemed to me as if I was not good enough or unreal enough to be near +to Death,--great, solemn Death itself. Why, I could look at myself, and +wonder at the thought of how much I shall see and know if I should die. +Grif, how much I should have to tell you, dear,--only that people are +always afraid of spirits, and perhaps you would be afraid, too,--even of +me! What would they say at home? Dear, old, broken-hearted fellow, what +would _you_ say, if I should die?” + +She could not help thinking about those at home; about Aimée and Mollie +and Phil and Toinette, sitting together in the dear old littered room at +Bloomsbury Place,--the dear old untidy room, where she had sat with Grif +so often! How would they all bear it when the letter came to tell them +she was gone, and would never be with them and share their pleasures and +troubles again! And then, strangely enough, she began to picture herself +as she would look; perhaps, laid out in this very room, a dimly outlined +figure, under a white sheet,--not her old self, but a solemn, wondrous +marble form, before whose motionless, mysterious presence they would +feel awed. + +“And they would turn down the white covering and look at me,” she found +herself saying. “And they would wonder at me, and feel that I was far +away. Oh, how they would wonder at me! And, at the very last, before +they hid my face forever under the coffin-lid, they would all kiss me +in that tender, solemn way,--all but Grif, who loved me best; and Grif +would not be there!” + +And the piteous rain of heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks, and +fell upon her pillow, was not for herself,--not for her own pain and +weariness and anguish,--not' for the white, worn face, that would be +shut beneath the coffin-lid, but for Grif,--for Grif,--for Grif, who, +coming back some day to learn the truth, might hear that she had died! + + + +CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + +IT had come at last,--the letter from Geneva, for which they all had +waited with such anxious hearts and so much of dread. The postman, +bringing it by the morning's delivery, and handing it through the opened +door to Aimée, had wondered a little at her excited manner,--she was +always excited when these letters came; and the moment she had entered +the parlor, holding the hurriedly read note,--it was scarcely more than +a note,--there was not one of them who did not understand all before she +spoke. + +Mrs. Phil burst into tears; Phil himself laid down his brush and changed +color; Mollie silently clung to Tod as a refuge, and looked up with +trembling lips. + +Mrs. Phil was the first to speak. + +“You may as well tell us the worst,” she said; “but it is easy enough to +guess what it is, without being told.” + +“It is almost the _very_ worst,” answered Aimée. + +“Miss MacDowlas wants me to go to them at once. _She_ is so ill that if +a change does not take place, she will not live many weeks, and she has +asked for me.” + +They all knew only too well that “she” meant Dolly. + +“Then,” said Phil, “you must go at once.” + +“I can go to-day,” she answered. “I knew it would come to this, and I am +ready to leave London at any moment.” + +There was no delay. Her small box was even then ready packed and corded +for the journey. She had taken Miss MacDowlas's warning in time. It +would not have been like this heavy-hearted wise one to disregard it. +She would have been ready to go to Dolly at ten minutes' notice, if she +had been in India. She was not afraid, either, of making the journey +alone. It was not a very terrible journey, she said. Secretly, she had a +fancy that perhaps Dolly would like to see her by herself first, to have +a few quiet days alone with her, in which she could become used to the +idea of the farewell the rest would come to say. And in her mind the +poor little oracle had another fancy, too, and this fancy she confided +to Mollie before bidding her good-by. + +“Mollie,” she said, “I am going to leave a charge in your hands.” + +“Is it anything about Dolly?” asked Mollie, making fruitless efforts to +check her affectionate tears. + +“I wish you would leave me something to do for Dolly, Aimée.” + +“It is something connected with Dolly;” returned Aimée. “I want you to +keep constantly on the watch for Griffith.” + +“For Griffith!” Mollie exclaimed. “How can I, when I don't know whether +he is in England or not?” + +“He is in England,” Aimée replied. “He is in London, for Mr. Gowan has +seen him.” + +“In London--and Dolly in Switzerland, perhaps dying!” + +“He does not know that, or he would have been with her before now,” said +Aimée. “Once let him know that she is ill, and he will be with her. I +know him well enough to be sure of that. And it is my impression that if +he went to her at the eleventh hour, when she might seem to us to be at +the very last, he would bring her back to life. It is Grif she is dying +for, and only Grif can save her.” + +“And what do you want me to do?” anxiously. + +“To watch for him constantly, as I said. Don't _you_ think, Mollie, +that he might come back, if it were only into the street to look at the +house, in a restless sort of remembrance of the time when they used to +be so happy?” + +“It would not be unlike him,” answered Mollie, slowly. “He was very fond +of Dolly. Oh, he was very fond of her!” + +“Fond of her! He loved her better than his life, and does still, +wherever he may be. Something tells me he will come, and that is why +I want you to watch. Watch at the window as constantly as you can, but +more particularly at dusk; and if you should see him, Mollie, don't wait +a second. Run out to him, and _make_ him listen to you. Ah, poor fellow, +he will listen eagerly and penitently enough, if you only say to him +that Dolly is dying.” + +“Very well,” said Mollie, “I will remember.” And thus the wise one took +her departure. + +It was twilight in Bloomsbury Place, and Mollie crouched before the +parlor window, resting her chin upon her hands, and looking out, pretty +much as Aimée had looked out on that winter evening months ago, when Mr. +Gerald Chandos had first presented himself to her mind as an individual +to be dreaded. + +Three days had passed since the wise one left London,--three miserable, +dragging days they had seemed to Mollie, despite their summer warmth and +sunshine. Real anxiety and sorrow were new experiences in Vagabondia; +little trials they had felt, and often enough small unpleasantnesses, +privations, and disappointments; but death and grief were new. And they +were just beginning to realize broadly the blow which had fallen upon +them; hard as it was to believe at first, they were beginning slowly to +comprehend the sad meaning of the lesson they were learning now for the +first time. What each had felt a fear of in secret was coming to pass at +last, and there was no help against it. + +Phil went about his work looking as none of them had ever seen him look +before. Mrs. Phil's tears fell thick and fast. Not understanding +the mystery, she could blame nobody but Grif, and Grif she could not +forgive. To Mollie the house seemed like a grave. She could think of +nothing but Dolly,--Dolly, white and worn and altered, lying upon her +couch, her eyes closed, her breath fluttering faintly. She wondered if +she was afraid to die. She herself had a secret girlish terror of death +and its strange solemness, and she so pitied Dolly that sometimes she +could not contain her grief, and was obliged to hide herself until her +tears spent themselves. + +She had been crying during all this twilight hour she had knelt at the +window. She was so lonely that it seemed impossible to do anything else. +It would have been bad enough to bear the suspense even if Aimée had +been with her, but without Aimée it was dreadful. The tears slipped down +her cheeks and rolled away, and she did not even attempt to dry them, +her affectionate grief had mastered her completely. But she was roused +at length. Some one crossed the street from the pavement opposite the +house; and when this some one entered the gate and ascended the steps, +she rose slowly, half-reluctant, half-comforted, and with a faint +thrill at her heart. It was Ralph Gowan, and she was not wise enough or +self-controlled enough yet to see Ralph Gowan without feeling her pulses +quicken. + +When she opened the door he did not greet her as usual, but spoke to her +at once in a low, hurried tone. + +“Mollie, where is Aimée?” he asked. + +Her tears began to flow again; she could not help giving way. + +“You had better come in,” she said, half turning away from him and +speaking brokenly. “Aimée is not here. She left London three days ago. +Dolly--” + +“Dolly is worse!” he said, because she could not finish. + +She nodded, with a heart too full for words. + +He stepped inside, and, closing the door, laid his hand upon her +shoulder. + +“Then, Mollie,” he said, “I must come to you.” + +He did not wait a moment, but led her gently enough into the parlor, +and, blinded as she was by her tears, she saw that instant that he had +not come without a reason. + +“Don't cry,” he said. “I want you to be brave and calm now,--for Dolly's +sake. I want your help,--for Dolly's sake, remember.” + +She recollected Aimée's words--“Mr. Gowan has seen him”--and a sudden +light flashed upon her. The tears seemed to dry of their own accord all +at once, as she looked up. + +“Yes,” she answered. + +He knew, without hearing another word, that he might trust her. + +“Can you guess whom I have just this moment seen?” he said. + +“Yes,” sprang from her lips, without a second's hesitation. “You have +seen Grif.” + +“I have seen Grif,” he answered. “He is at the corner of the street now. +If I had attempted to speak to him he would have managed to avoid me; +and because I knew that, I came here, hoping to find Aimée; but since +Aimée is not here--” + +“I can go,” she interrupted him, all a-tremble with eagerness. “He will +listen to me; he was fond of me, too, and I was fond of him. Oh! let me +go now!” + +That bright little scarlet shawl of Dolly's lay upon the sofa, and +she snatched it up with shaking hands and threw it over her head and +shoulders. + +“If I can speak to him once, he will listen,” she said; “and if he +listens, Dolly will be saved. She won't die if Grif comes back. She +can't die if Grif comes back. Oh, Dolly, my darling, you saved me, and I +am going to try to save you.” + +She was out in the street in two minutes, standing on the pavement, +looking up and down, and then she ran across to the other side. She kept +close to the houses, so that she might be in their shadow, and a little +sob broke from her as she hurried along,--a sob of joy and fear and +excitement. At the end of the row of houses somebody was standing under +the street lamp,--a man. Was it Grif,--or could Grif have gone even in +this short time? Fate could never have been so cruel to him, to her, to +them all, as to let him come so near and then go away without hearing +that Dolly was lying at death's portals, and no one could save her but +himself and the tender power of the sweet, old, much-tried love. Oh, no, +no! It was Grif indeed; for as she neared the place where he stood, she +saw his face in the lamp-light,--a grief-worn, pallid face, changed and +haggard and desperate,--a sight that made her cry out aloud. + +He had not seen her or even heard her. He stood there looking toward +the house she had left, and seeing, as it seemed, nothing else. Only the +darkness had hidden her from him. His eyes were fixed upon the dim light +that burned in Dolly's window. She had not meant to speak until she +stood close to him; but when she was within a few paces of him her +excitement mastered her. + +“Grif,” she cried out; “Grif, is it you?” + +And when he turned, with a great start, to look at her, she was upon +him,--her hands outstretched, the light upon her face, the tears +streaming down her cheeks,--sobbing aloud. + +“Mollie,” he answered, “is it _you?_” And she saw that he almost +staggered. + +She could not speak at first. She clung to his arm so tightly that he +could scarcely have broken away from her if he had tried. But he did not +try; it seemed as though her touch made him weak,--weaker than he had +ever been before in his life. Beauty as she was, they had always thought +her in some way like Dolly, and, just now, with Dolly's gay little +scarlet shawl slipping away from her face, with the great grief in +her imploring eyes, with that innocent appealing trick of the clinging +hands, she might almost have been Dolly's self. + +Try as he might, he could not regain his self-control. He was sheerly +powerless before her. + +“Mollie,” he said, “what has brought you here? Why have you come?” + +“I have come,” she answered, “for Dolly's sake!” + +The vague fear he had felt at first caught hold upon him with all the +fulness of its strength. + +“For Dolly's sake!” he echoed. “Nay, Dolly has done with me, and I with +her.” And though he tried to speak bitterly, he failed. + +She was too fond of Dolly, and too full of grief to spare him after +that. Unstrung as she was, her reproach burst forth from her without a +softened touch. “Dolly has done with earth. Dolly's life is over,” she +sobbed. “Do you know that she is dying? Yes, dying,--our own bright +Dolly,--and you--_you_ have killed her!” + +She had not thought how cruel it would sound, and the next instant she +was full of terror at the effect of her own words. He broke loose from +her,--_fell_ loose from her, one might better describe it, for it was +his own weight rather than any effort which dragged him from her grasp. +He staggered and caught hold of the iron railings to save himself, and +there hung, staring at her with a face like a dead man. + +“My God!” he said,--not another word. + +“You must not give way like that,” she cried out, in a new fright. “Oh, +how could I speak so! Aimée would have told you better. I did not mean +to be so hard. You can save her if you will. She will not die, Grif, if +you go to her. She only wants _you_. Grif,--Grif,--you look as if you +could not understand what I am saying.” And she wrung her hands. + +And, indeed, it scarcely seemed as if he did understand, though at last +he spoke. + +“Where is she?” he said. “Not here? You say I must 'go' to her.” + +“No, she is not here. She is at Lake Geneva. Miss MacDowlas took her +there because she grew so weak, and she has grown weaker ever since, and +three days ago they sent for Aimée to come to her, because--because they +think she is going to die.” + +“And you say that _I_ have done this?” + +“I ought n't to have put it that way, it sounds so cruel, but--but she +has never been like herself since the night you went away, and we have +all known that it was her unhappiness that made her ill. She could not +get over it, and though she tried to hide it, she was worn out. She +loved you so.” + +He interrupted her. + +“If she is dying for me,” he said, hoarsely, “she must have loved me, +and if she has loved me through all this,--God help us both!” + +“How could you go away and leave her all alone after all those years?” + demanded Mollie. “We cannot understand it. No one knows but Aimée, and +Dolly has told her that you were not to blame. Why did you go?” + +“_You_ do not know?” he said. “You should know, Mollie, of all +others. _You_ were with her when she played that miserable coquette's +trick,--that pitiful trick, so unlike herself,--you were with her that +night when she let Gowan keep her away from me, when I waited for her +coming hour after hour. I saw you with them when he was bidding her +goodnight.” + +They had hidden their secret well all these months, but it was to be +hidden no longer now. It flashed upon her like an electric shock. She +remembered a hundred things,--a hundred little mysteries she had met and +been puzzled by, in Aimee's manner; she remembered all she had heard, +and all she had wondered at, and her heart seemed turned to stone. The +flush of weeping died out of her face, her hands fell and hung down +at her side, her tears were gone; nothing seemed left to her but blank +horror. + +“Was it because she did not come that night, that you left her to die?” + she asked, in a labored voice. “Was it because you saw her with Ralph +Gowan--was it because you found out that she had been with him, that you +went away and let her break her heart? Tell me!” + +He answered her, “Yes.” + +“Then,” she said, turning to face him, still cold, and almost rigid, “it +is _I_ who have killed her, and not you.” + +“You!” he exclaimed. + +She did not wait to choose her words, or try to soften the story of her +own humiliation. + +“If she dies,” she said, “she has died for me.” + +And without further preface she told him all. How she had let Gerald +Chandos flatter and gain power over her, until the climax of her folly +had been the wild, wilful escapade of that miserable long-past day. +How Ralph Gowan had discovered her romantic secret, and revealed it +to Dolly. How they had followed and rescued her; even how Dolly had +awakened her from her dangerous dream with that light touch, and had +drawn her away from the brink of an abyss, with her loving, girlish +hands; and she ended with an outburst of anguish. + +“Why did n't she tell you?” she said. “For my sake she did not want the +rest to know; but why did not she tell you? I cannot understand.” + +“She tried to tell me,” he said, in an agony of self-reproach, as he +began to see what he had done,--“she tried to tell me, and I would not +hear her.” + +All his bygone sufferings--and, Heaven knows, he had suffered bitterly +and heavily enough--sank into insignificance before the misery of this +hour. To know how true and pure of heart she had been; to know how +faithful, unselfish, sweet; to remember how she had met him with a +tender little cry of joy, with outstretched, innocent hands, that he had +thrust aside; to remember the old golden days in which she had so clung +to him, and brightened his life; to think how he had left her lying +upon the sofa that night, her white face drooping piteously against +the cushions; to have all come back to him and know that he only was to +blame; to know it all too late. Nay, a whole life of future bliss could +never quite efface the memory of such a passion of remorse and pain. + +“Oh, my God!” he prayed, “have mercy upon me!” And then he turned upon +Mollie. “Tell me where to go to; tell me, and let me go. I must go to +her now without a moment's waiting. My poor, faithful little girl,--my +pretty Dolly! Dying,--dying! No, I don't believe it,--I won't. She +cannot die yet. Fate has been cruel enough to us, but it cannot be so +cruel as that. Love will _make_ her live.” + +He dashed down Mollie's directions in desperate, feverish haste upon a +leaf of his memorandum-book, and then he bade her good-by. + +“God bless you, dear!” he said. “Perhaps you have saved us both. I am +going to her now. Pray for me.” + +“I ought rather to pray for myself,” she said; “but for me you would +never have been separated. I have done it all.” + +And a few minutes after he had gone, Ralph Gowan, who had awaited her +return before the window, turned to see her enter the room like a spirit +and fling herself down before him, looking white and shaken and pale. + +“I have found it all out now,” she cried. “I have found it all out. I +have done all this, Mr. Gowan; it is through me her heart is broken, and +if she dies, I shall have caused her death, as surely as if I had killed +her with my own hand. Oh, save me from thinking she will die,--help me +to think she will live,--help me!” + +There was no one else to help her, and the blind terror of the thought +was so great that she must have help, or die. To have so injured Dolly, +whom she so loved,--to have, by her own deed, brought that dread shadow +of Death upon Dolly, who had saved her! Her heart seemed crushed. If +Aimée had been there; but Aimée was not, so she stretched out her hands +to the man she had so innocently loved. And as she so knelt before +him,--so fair, in the childlike _abandon_ of her grief, so guileless +and trusting in her sudden, sweet appeal, so helpless against the world, +even against herself,--his man's heart was touched and stirred as it had +never been before,--as even Dolly herself had not stirred it. + +“My poor child!” he said, taking her hands and drawing her nearer to +himself. “My poor, pretty Mollie, come to me.” + +And why not, my reader? If one rose is not for us, the sun shines on +many another as sweet and quite as fair; and what is more, it is more +than probable that if we had seen the last rose first, we should have +loved the first rose last. It is only when, like Dolly and Grif, we have +watched our rose from its first peep of the leaf, and have grown with +its growth, that there can be no other rose but one. + +“_Le roi est mort--Vive le roi!_” + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + +THERE was a hush upon the guests at the pretty little inn. Most of them +were not sojourners of a day, who came and went, as they did at the +larger and busier hotels,--they were comfortable people who enjoyed +themselves in their own quiet way and so had settled down for the time +being. Accordingly they had leisure to become interested in each other; +and there were few of them who did not feel a friendly interest in the +pretty, pale English girl, who, report said, was fading silently out +of life in her bright room up-stairs. When Aimée arrived, the most +sympathetic shook their heads dubiously. + +“The sister is here,” they said; “a thoughtful little English creature +with a child's face and a woman's air. They sent for her. One can easily +guess what that means.” + +Any one but Aimée would have been crushed at the outset by the shock +of the change which was to be seen in the poor little worn figure, now +rarely moved from its invalid's couch. But Aimée bore the blow with +outward quiet at least. If she shed tears Dolly did not see them, and if +she mourned Dolly was not disturbed by her sorrow. + +“I have come to help Miss MacDowlas to take care of you, Dolly,” she +said, when she gave her her greeting kiss, and Dolly smiled and kissed +her in return. + +But it was a terribly hard matter to fight through at first. Of course, +as the girl had become weaker she had lost power over herself. She was +restless and listless by turns. Sometimes she started at every sound, +and again she lay with closed eyes for hours, dozing the day away. The +mere sight of her in this latter state threw poor Phemie into an agony +of terror and distress. + +“It is so like Death,” she would say to Aimée. “It seems as if we could +never rouse her again.” + +And then again she would rally a little, and at such times she would +insist upon being propped up and allowed to talk, and her eyes would +grow large and bright, and a spot of hectic color would burn on her +cheeks. She did not even mention her trouble during the first two +days of Aimée's visit, but on the third afternoon she surprised her by +broaching the subject suddenly. She had been dozing, and on awakening +she began to talk. + +“Aimée,” she said, “where is Miss MacDowlas?” + +“In her room. I persuaded her to go and lie down.” + +“I am very glad,” quietly. “I want to do something particular. I want +Grif's letters, Aimée.” + +“Where are they?” Aimée asked. + +“In a box in my trunk. I should like to have them now.” + +Aimée brought them to her without comment. The box had not been large +enough to hold them all, and there was an extra packet tied with that +dear old stereotyped blue ribbon. + +“What a many there are!” said Dolly, when she came to the couch with +them. “You will have to sit down by me and hold some of them. One can +write a great many letters in seven years.” + +The wise one sat down, obediently holding the box upon her knee. There +were so many letters in it that it was quite heavy. + +“I am going to look them over and tie them in packages, according to +their dates,” said Dolly. “He will like to have them when he comes +back.” + +It would not have been natural for her to preserve her calmness all +through the performance of her task. Her first glance at the first +letter brought the tears, and she cried quietly as she passed from +one to the other. They were such tender, impetuous letters. The +very headings--“My Darling,” “My pretty Darling,” “My own sweetest +Life”--impassioned, youthful-sounding, and Grif-like, cut her to the +heart. Ah! how terrible it would be for him to see them again, as +he would see them! She was pitying him far more than she was pitying +herself. + +It was a work not soon over, but she finished it at length. The packets +were assorted and tied with new ribbon, and she lay down for a few +minutes to rest. + +“You will give them to him, Aimée?” she said. “I think he will come some +day; but if he does not, you must keep them yourself. I should not like +people to read them--afterwards. Love-letters won't stand being read by +strangers. I have often laughed and told him ours would n't. I am going +to write a last one, however, this afternoon. You are to give it him, +with the 'dead' letter--but they are all dead letters, are they not?” + +“Dolly,” said Aimée, with a desperate effort, “you speak as if you were +sure you were--going.” + +There was a silence, and then a soft, low, tremulous laugh,--the merest +echo of a laugh. Despite her long suffering Dolly was Dolly yet. She +would not let them mourn over her. + +“Going,” she said, “well--I think I am. Yes,” half reflectively, “I +think I must be. It cannot mean anything else,--this feeling, can it? +It was a long time before I quite believed it myself, Aimée, but now I +should be obliged to believe it if I did not wish to.” + +“And do you wish to, now?” + +That little silence again, and then-- + +“I should like to see Grif,--I want Grif,--that is all.” + +She managed to write her last love-letter after this, and to direct +it and tie it with the letter which had returned to her,--the “dead” + letter. But the effort seemed to tire her very much, and when all was +done and her restless excitement had died out, she looked less like +herself than ever. She could talk no more, and was so weak and prostrate +that Aimée was alarmed into summoning Miss MacDowlas. + +But Miss MacDowlas could only shake her head. “We cannot do anything to +rouse her,” she said. “It is often so. If the end comes, it will come in +this way. She feels no pain.” + +That night Aimée wrote to those at home. They must come at once if they +wanted to see Dolly. She watched all night by the bedside herself; +she could not have slept if she had gone to her own room, and so she +remained with Dolly, watching her doze and waken, starting from nervous +sleeps and sinking into them again. + +“There will not be many nights through which I can watch,” she said +to herself. “Even this might be the last.” And then she turned to the +window, and cried silently, thinking of Grif, and wondering what she +should say to him, if they ever met again. + +How could she say to him, “Dolly is dead! Dolly died because you left +her!” + +Another weary day and night, and then the old change came again. The +feverish strength seemed to come once more. Dolly would be propped up, +and talk. Before very long Aimée began to fancy that she had something +she wished to say to Miss Mac-Dowlas. She followed her movements with +eager, unsatisfied eyes, and did not seem at ease until she sat down +near her. Then when she had secured her attention the secret revealed +itself. She had something to say about Grif. + +Gradually, during the long weary weeks of her illness she had learned +to place much confidence in Miss MacDowlas. Her affectionate nature had +clung to her. In telling anecdotes of life in Vagabondia, she had talked +of Grif,--Vagabondia would not have been Vagabondia without Grif,--and +there was always a thrill of faithful love in her simplest mention of +him. Truly, Miss MacDowlas beheld her reprobate nephew in a new light, +surrounded by a halo of innocent romance and unselfish tenderness. This +poor little soul, who was breaking her heart for his sake, showed him +sinned against but never sinning, unfortunate but never to blame, showed +him honest, sweet of nature, true, and faultless. Where were his faults +in the eyes of his first and last love? The simple, whimsical stories of +their loves and lovers' quarrels, of their small economies and perfect +faith in the future,--a faith so sadly wrecked, as it seemed, by cruel +Fate,--brought tears into Miss MacDowlas's eyes. Eloquent, affectionate +Dolly won her over before she knew what she was thinking about. He could +not have been such a reprobate, after all,--this Griffith Donne, who +had so often roused her indignation. Perhaps he could not help being +literary and wearing a shabby coat and a questionable hat. And Dolly +had in the end begun to see how her long-fixed opinion had softened and +changed. So she had courage to plead for Grif this afternoon. She wanted +to be sure that if he should ever come back, there would be a hand +outstretched to help him. + +“He only wanted help,” she said; “and no one has ever helped him, though +he tried so hard and worked so. Aimée knows how hard he worked, don't +you, Aimée?” + +“Yes,” answered Aimée, turning her working face away. + +“I should like you to promise,” said Dolly, wistfully, to Miss +MacDowlas. “It would make me so much happier. You have been so kind to +me,--I am sure you will be kind to him,--poor Grif,--poor fellow!” + +Miss MacDowlas bent over her, touched to the heart. + +“My dear,” she said, “he shall never want help again. He must have been +worthy of so much love, or he would never have won it. I owe him some +recompense, too. If I had not been so stupidly blind I might have saved +you both all this pain. I have grown very fond of you, Dolly,” she +ended; and then, being quite overcome, she kissed the pretty hair +suddenly, gave the thin hand an almost motherly squeeze, and made the +best of her way out of the room. + +“Aimée,” said Dolly, “do you remember how often I have made fun of her, +when we were all so happy together? We made a good many mistakes, even +in Vagabondia, did n't we?” And then she closed her eyes and lay silent, +with wet lashes resting on her cheek. + +In speaking of this afternoon, long afterwards, Aimée said it seemed the +longest and weariest she had ever known. It was extremely hot, and the +very air seemed laden with heavy languor. The sun beat down upon the +outer world whitely, and scarcely a leaf stirred. Miss MacDowlas did not +return, and Dolly, though she was not asleep, lay quite still and did +not open her eyes again. So Aimée sat and watched at her side, wondering +how the day would end,--wondering if Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie would +arrive before it was too late,--wondering what that strange last hour +would be like, and how Dolly would bear it when it came, and how they +themselves would bear to think of it when it was over. + +She was not quite sure how long she sat watching so, but she fancied +that it must have been two or three hours, or even more. She got up at +last and drew down the green blinds as noiselessly as possible, and then +went back to her place and rested her head upon the pillow near Dolly's, +feeling drowsy and tired,--she had slept so little during the past few +nights. + +Dolly moved restlessly, stretching out her hand to Aimée's and opening +her eyes all at once--ah! what large, hollow, shadowy eyes they were! + +“I am very tired,” she murmured, “so tired and so weak, Aimée,” + dreamily. “I suppose this is what you would call dying of a broken +heart. It seems so queer that I should die of a broken heart.” “Oh, +Dolly--Dolly!” Aimée whispered, “our own dearest dear, we never thought +such pain could come to you.” + +But even the next moment Dolly seemed to have lost herself, her eyes +closed again and she did not speak. So Aimée lay holding her hand, until +the indoor silence, the shadow of the room, and the sound of the droning +bees outside lulled her into a sort of doze, and her own eyelids fell +wearily. + +A minute, was it, five or ten, or more than that? + +She could not say. She only remembered her own last words, the +warmth, the shadow, the droning of the bees, and the gradual losing +consciousness, and then she was wide awake again,--awakened by a +strange, wild cry, which, thrilling and echoing through the room, made +her start up with a beating heart and look towards the door. + +“Grif!” + +That was all,--only this single rapturous cry, and Dolly, who had before +seemed not to have the strength of a child, was sitting up, a white, +tremulous figure, with outstretched arms and fluttering breath, and Grif +was standing upon the threshold. + +Even when she had blamed him most, Aimée had pitied him also; but she +had never pitied him as she did when he strode to the couch and took +the weak, worn, tremulous little figure in his arms. He could not +speak,--neither spoke. Dolly lay upon his breast crying like a little +child. But for him--his grief was terrible; and when the loving hand was +laid upon his cheek and Dolly found her first words, they only seemed to +make it worse. + +“Don't cry,” she said. “Don't cry, dear. Kiss me!” He kissed her lips, +her hands, her hair. He could not bear it. She was so like, yet so +fearfully unlike, the winsome, tender creature he had loved so long. + +“Oh, my God!” he cried, in his old mad way, “you are dying, and if you +die it will be I who have murdered you!” + +She moved a little nearer, so that her pretty face rested against his +shoulder and she could lift her streaming eyes to his, her old smile +shining through her tears. + +“Dear old fellow,” she said, “darling old fellow, whom I love with all +my soul! I shall live just to prove that you have done nothing of the +kind!” + +It was only Grif she wanted,--only Grif, and Grif had come. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + +OF course she recovered. What else could she do? If a man is dying for +want of bread and you give him bread enough and to spare, he will regain +strength and life, will he not? And so with Dolly. Having found Grif, +she had nothing to die for and so much to live for, that she lived. It +seemed, too, that even if she had been inclined to die, Grif would have +held her fast to earth. It was worse than useless to attempt to delude +him into leaving her side, even for an hour; he hung over the invalid's +couch, in such an anguish of half-despairing anxiety that the hearts of +the unceremoniously deposed nurses were quite touched. He watched every +change in Dolly's face, every brightening or fading tint in her cheek, +every glance of her eyes; he followed her every movement. If she was +tired of her posture, he could raise her or lay her down and settle her +cushions as no one else could; if she was strong enough to listen, he +could talk to her; if she was too weak, he could be silent. + +But naturally there was much to talk about. Not that the period of +his absence had been a very eventful one. It was as Ralph Gowan had +fancied,--he had been living quietly enough in a secluded London +street during the whole of the time; but Dolly found the history of +his self-banishment both interesting and soul-moving. The story of his +miseries brought the tears into her eyes, and his picture of what he had +suffered on that unhappy night, when he had rushed out of the house +and left her insensible upon the sofa, made her cling to his hand +convulsively and sob outright. + +“I can scarcely believe you are here,--quite safe,” she would say; “you +might have killed yourself.” + +And indeed he had been in no small danger of so doing. + +Among all this, however, there was one bit of brightness,--a wonderful +piece of news he told her that very day after his return. Fortune +had, with her usual caprice, condescended to smile upon him at last. +Incredible as it appeared, he had “got into something,” and this +“something” was actually remunerative,--reasonably remunerative, if +not extravagantly so. Four hundred a year would pay the rent of the +figurative house in Putney or elsewhere, and buy the green sofa and +appurtenances, at least. Dolly could scarcely believe it, and, indeed, +he scarcely believed it himself. + +“It seemed as if, when I had lost all else, this came to add to the +bitterness of the loss,” he said. “I am afraid I was far from being as +grateful, at first, as I ought to have been. I could only remember how +happy such luck would have made us both if it had only come a year or +so earlier. And the very day I got the place I passed the upholsterer's +where the parlor furniture was,--green sofa and all. And I went home +with the firm intention of blowing my brains out. The only thing that +saved me that day was the fact that my landlady met me at the door with +a miserable story about her troubles and her taxes, and by the time I +had listened for half an hour, and done something she wanted done, I had +cooled down a little, though I was wretched enough.” + +“The 'something' was paying the taxes, was n't it?” questioned Dolly. + +“Something of that kind,” admitted Griffith. + +“Ah,” said Dolly, “I thought so.” + +Very naturally Griffith felt some slight embarrassment on encountering +Miss MacDowlas, having a rather unpleasant recollection of various +incidents of the past. But Miss Berenice faced the matter in a different +manner and with her usual decision of character. She had made up her +mind to receive Griffith Donne as a respectable fact, and then, through +Dolly's eloquence, she had learned to regard him with even a sort of +affection,--a vague affection, of course, at the outset, but one which +would ripen with time. Thus she rather surprised him by confronting him +upon an entirely new ground. She was cordial and amiable, and on +the first opportunity she explained her change of feeling with great +openness. + +“I have heard so much of you from Dolly,” she said, “that I am convinced +I have known nothing of you before. I hope we shall be better friends. I +am very fond of Dolly. I wish I had known her three or four years ago.” + +And there was such a softened tenderness in her thin, unpromising face, +that from thenceforward Griffith's doubts were removed and his opinion +altered, as hers had done. The woman who had loved and pitied Dolly +when she so sorely needed pity and love, must be worthy of gratitude and +affection. + +Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie arriving, in the deepest affliction, to +receive Dolly's last farewell, were rather startled by the turn affairs +had taken. Changed as she was, the face she turned to greet them was not +the face of a dying girl. She was deplorably pale and shrunken and thin, +but the light of life was in her eyes and a new ring was in her voice. +She had vitality enough to recognize fresh charms in Tod, and spirit +enough to make a few jokes. + +“She won't die,” commented Phil to his wife when they retired to their +room. + +“No,” said Mrs. Phil, discreetly, “it is not likely, now Grif has come +back. But it won't do to waste the journey, Phil, so we may as well stay +awhile. We have not been anywhere out of London this summer.” + +Accordingly, with their usual genius for utilizing all things, they +prolonged their visit and made it into a kind of family festival; and +since their anxiety on Dolly's behalf was at an end, they managed +to enjoy it heartily. They walked here, and rode there, and explored +unheard-of points and places; they kept the quiet people in the quiet +hotel in a constant state of pleasant ferment with their good spirits +and unceremonious friendliness. Mollie and Aimée and Mrs. Phil excited +such general admiration that when they made their appearance at the +_table d'hôte_ there was a visible stir and brightening, and Dolly +was so constantly inquired after, that there were serious thoughts +entertained of issuing hourly bulletins. The reaction of high spirits +after their fears was something exhilarating even to beholders. + +And while they enjoyed themselves, and explored, and instituted a high +carnival of innocent rejoicing, Dolly directed all her energies to the +task of getting well and filling Grif's soul with hope and bliss. As +soon as she had fully recovered they were to be married,--not a day, not +an hour, longer would Grif consent to wait. His only trouble was that +she would not be strong enough to superintend the purchase of the green +sofa and appurtenances. Aimée had, however, proved his rock of refuge +as usual They were to return to London together and make the necessary +preparations, and then the wedding was to take place in Geneva, and the +bride would be carried home in triumph. + +“We have been so long in travelling toward the little house at Putney +that it will be the nicest bridal tour we could have,” said Dolly. + +Then, of course, came some pleasant excitement in connection with the +trousseau, in which everybody was involved. The modest hotel had never +before been in such a state of mind through secret preparations, as +it was when Dolly was well enough to sit up and walk about and choose +patterns. Her instinct of interest in worldly vanities sustained that +young person marvellously. When Grif and Aimée had returned to London +she found herself well enough to give lengthy audiences to Mrs. Phil, +who, with Miss MacDowlas, had taken the business of purchasing in hand, +and to discuss fabrics and fashions by the hour. She remembered Grifs +enthusiasm on the subject of her toilets, and she was wholly ruled by +a secret and laudable ambition to render herself as irresistible as +possible. She exercised to its utmost her inventive genius, and lay +awake at night to devise simple but coquettish feminine snares of attire +to delight and bewilder him in the future. + +She might well progress rapidly toward health and strength. By the time +the house was ready for her reception she was well enough to drive out +and explore with the rest, though she looked frail and unsubstantial by +contrast with Mollie's bloom and handsome Mrs. Phil's grand curves. She +was gaining flesh and color every day, but the slender throat and wrists +and transparent hands were a bitter reproach to Grif even then, and it +would be many weeks before she could again indulge in that old harmless +vanity in her dimples and smooth roundness of form. + +Mollie mourned over her long, in secret, and, indeed, was so heart-wrung +by the sight of the change she found in her, that the very day of her +arrival had not drawn to its close before she burst upon her with a +remorseful appeal for forgiveness. + +“But even if you forgive me I shall not forgive myself,” she said. “I +shall never forget that dreadful night when I found out that it was all +my fault, and that you had borne everything without telling me. If--if +it had not been for--for Mr. Gowan, Dolly, I think I should have died.” + +“If it had not been for whom?” asked Dolly. + +“Mr. Gowan,” answered Miss Mollie, dropping her eyes, her very throat +dyed with guilty blushes. + +“Ah!” said Dolly. “And what did Mr. Gowan do, Mollie?” + +“He was very kind--and sympathizing,” replied Mollie. + +“He always is sympathizing,” looking at her with affectionate +shrewdness. “He is very nice, is n't he, Mollie?” + +“Yes,” said Mollie. “Very nice, indeed.” + +“And I dare say you were so frightened and wretched that you cried?” + +“Yes,” confessed the abashed catechised. + +“I thought so.” And then, conjuring up in her mind's eye a picture of +Mollie, heart-broken, appealing and in tears, beauteous, piteous, and +grief-abandoned, she added, with tender impulsiveness, “I don't wonder +that he sympathized with you, Mollie.” + +It revealed itself shortly afterward that his sympathy had not confined +itself to the night Mollie called “dreadful.” Since that night he had +been a frequent visitor at Bloomsbury Place,--as frequent a visitor as +he had been in the days when Dolly had been wont so to entertain him. + +A week after the return of Aimée and Grif from London, there fell again +upon the modest hotel a hush; but it was not the hush of sympathetic +silence which had fallen upon it before,--it was merely a sort of +reaction after a slight excitement. The pretty English girl had, to +every one's wonder, suddenly returned to earth and had been married! +The wisest were bewildered, but such was the fact, nevertheless; nobody +could exactly comprehend, but who could deny it? It was a mystery, +indeed, until one day, some time after, a usually phlegmatic matron +was struck with an idea, and accordingly propounded to her friends a +somewhat vaguely expressed problem. + +“After the appearance of the lover one heard no more that she was +dying?” + +“Just so.” + +“Perhaps the lover had something to do with the matter?”, “Ah!” + +“Perhaps she was dying for him, and his coming cured her?” + +“Exactly. That must have been the case.” + +And thenceforth the matter was deemed settled. However, the gay, +light-hearted party of English had taken their departure,--the friendly +young artist who sketched and smoked and enjoyed himself; his handsome +young wife, who sketched and played with her handsome child, and enjoyed +_herself_; the beautiful younger sister, who blushed and was charmingly +bashful, but enjoyed herself; the fair little saint with the +grave youthful face, who took care of them all, and yet enjoyed +_herself_,--the lover, the elder lady, the guest who came to be +groomsman, the bride,--they were all gone at last, and their absence was +the cause of the hush of which I speak. + +There had been a wedding,--a joyous, light-hearted wedding, in which +the bride had looked pretty and flower-like and ethereal,--a fragile +creature enough in her white dress and under her white veil, but a +delightfully happy creature, notwithstanding,--in which the bridegroom +had been plainly filled with chivalric tenderness and bliss,--in which +the two sisters had been charming beyond measure, and the awkward, +affectionate girl friend from the seminary had blushed herself into a +high fever. There could not have been a more prettily orthodox wedding, +said the beholders. Somehow its glow of young romance touched people, it +was so evident that the young couple were fond of each other, and happy +and hopeful. There were those who, seeing it solemnized in the small +church, shed a few tears, they knew not why, when Grif lifted Dolly's +veil and kissed her without a word. + +“It is all rose color to them,” said one of these soft-hearted ones, +apologetically, to her neighbor. + +Rose color! I should think it was. + +But if it was all rose color then, what was it that first evening they +spent at home,--in their own home, in the little house which was so +bright and pretty that it seemed more like a dream than a reality? +What color did life look when Grif led Dolly across the threshold, half +trembling himself for very joy? What color did it look when he shut the +door of the little parlor, and, turning round, went to her and folded +her in his arms close to his beating heart? + +Rose color! It was golden and more than golden! And yet, for the first +minute, Dolly could not speak, and the next she laid her cheek in her +favorite place, on the lapel of Grif's coat, and burst into a great +gush of soft, warm tears,--tears without a touch of any other element, +however, than love and happiness. + +“_Home_, Grif!” she said. + +He was quite pale and he had almost lost his voice, too, but he managed +to answer her, unsteadily. + +“Yes, Dolly,” he said; “home!” And he stroked the bright hair upon his +breast, with a world of meaning in his touch. + +“Do you think,” she said next, “that I am good enough and wise enough to +take care of it, and to take care of _you_, Grif?” + +“Do you think,” he said, “that I am good enough and wise enough to take +care of _you_?” + +She lifted up her face and kissed him. + +“We love each other,” she whispered, “we trust each other, and so we +can help each other, and God will help us both. Ah, Grif, how bright and +sweet life is!” + +And she scarcely knew, tender little soul, that instead of “life” she +should have said “love.” + +There we will leave them both, merely hinting at the festivities that +followed,--merely hinting at the rejoicings at Bloomsbury Place, the +gatherings at Brabazon Lodge, and the grand family reception at the +house of the bride,--a reception at which Dolly shone forth with renewed +splendor, presiding over a gorgeous silver tea-service, which was one +of Miss MacDowlas's many gifts, dispensing tea and coffee with the +deportment of a housekeeper of many years' standing, and utterly +distracting Grif with her matronly airs and graces. + +Vagabondia was itself again in these days, but it was turning its +brighter side outward. Phil was winning success, too, his position in +the world of art was becoming secured, and Bloomsbury Place was to be +touched up and refurnished gradually. Aimée had promised to make her +home with Dolly until such time as her sweet little saint's face won +her a home of her own. Miss MacDowlas had been adopted into the family +circle, and was conscious of being happier than she had ever felt since +her long-past youth slipped from her grasp. Tod's teeth were “through,” + as Mrs. Phil phrased it, and convulsions had not supervened, to the +ecstasy of his anxious admirers. And Mollie,--well, Mollie waltzed with +Ralph Gowan again on the night of Dolly's reception, and when the dance +was at an end, she went and seated herself near her hostess upon the +green sofa--it was a green sofa, though a far more luxurious one than +Dolly and Grif had ever dared to set their hearts upon in the olden +days. + +“Dolly,” she said, blushing for the last time in this history of mine, +and looking down at her bouquet of waxen-white camellias and green +leaves,--“Dolly, I suppose Aimée has told you that I am engaged +to--to--” + +“To Mr. Gowan,” suggested Dolly. + +“Yes,” answered Mollie, “to Mr. Gowan.” + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson +Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 25727-0.txt or 25727-0.zip ***** This +and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2/25727/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. +Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this +license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and +trademark. 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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: +www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, including +how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to +our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/25727-0.zip b/25727-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a02f752 --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-0.zip diff --git a/25727-8.txt b/25727-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddb760f --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10134 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll +have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using +this ebook. + + + +Title: Vagabondia 1884 + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: June 8, 2008 [EBook #25727] +Last Updated: December 28, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +VAGABONDIA + +By Frances Hodgson Burnett + +JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY - 1884 + + + +CONTENTS + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE. + +VAGABONDIA. + + + +CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + +CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + +CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + +CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + +CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + +CHAPTER VI. ~ "WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON." + +CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + +CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + +CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + +CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + +CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + +CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + +CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + +CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + +CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + +CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + +CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + +CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + +CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE. + +This my first novel was written several years ago, and published +(without any revision by me) first in a ladies' magazine under the name +of "Dorothea," and afterwards in book form as "Dolly." For reasons not +necessary to state here, all control over the book had passed from +my hands. It has been for some time out of print; but, having at last +obtained control of the copyright, I have made such corrections as +seemed advisable, given it the name I originally intended for it, and +now issue it through my regular publishers. + +FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. + +Washington, November, 1883. + + + +VAGABONDIA. + + + +CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + +It was a nondescript sort of a room, taking it altogether. A big, sunny +room, whose once handsome papering and corniceing had grown dingy, and +whose rich carpeting had lost its color and pile in places, and yet +asserted its superiority to its surroundings with an air of lost +grandeur in every shabby medallion. There were pictures in abundance on +the walls, and more than one of them were gems in their way, despite the +evidence all bore to being the work of amateurs. The tables were carved +elaborately, and the faded, brocaded chairs were of the order _pouf_, +and as inviting as they were disreputable in appearance; there was +manuscript music among the general litter, a guitar hung from the wall +by a tarnished blue and silver ribbon, and a violin lay on the piano; +and yet, notwithstanding the air of free-and-easy disorder, one could +hardly help recognizing a sort of vagabond comfort and luxury in the +Bohemian surroundings. It was so very evident that the owners must enjoy +life in an easy, light-hearted, though perhaps light-headed fashion; and +it was also so very evident that their light hearts and light heads rose +above their knowledge of their light purses. + +They were congregated together now, holding a grand family council +around the centre-table, and Dolly was the principal feature, as usual; +and, embarrassing as the subject of said council was, not one of them +looked as if it was other than a most excellent joke that Dolly, having +been invited into the camps of the Philistines, should find she had +nothing to put on to grace the occasion. And as to Dolly,--well, that +young person stood in the midst of them in her shabby, Frenchy little +hat, slapping one pink palm with a shabby, shapely kid glove, her eyes +alight, her comical dismay and amusement displaying itself even in the +arch of her brows. + +"And so the Philistine leader pounced upon me herself," she was saying. +"You know the 'Ark,' Phil? Well, they were all in the Ark,--the Rev. +Bilberry in front, and the boys and girls filling up the corners; so you +may imagine the effect produced when they stopped, and Lady Augusta +bent over the side to solemnly proclaim her intention of inviting me +to partake of coffee and conversation on Friday night, with an air of +severely wondering whether I would dare to say 'No!'" + +"Why did n't you say it?" said Aime. "You know it will be an awful +bore, Dolly. Those Bilberry clan gatherings always are. You have said so +yourself often enough." + +"Of course I have," returned Dolly. "And of course it will be, but +it would be dreadfully indiscreet to let the Bilberry element know I +thought so. The Bilberry doors once closed against us, where is our +respectability, and Phil's chance of success among the Philistines? It +is bad enough, of course, but there is reason to be thankful that I am +the only victim. The rest of you would be sure to blunder into the B. +B. B.'s [meaning the Bilberry black books], and that _would_ be an +agreeable state of affairs. 'Toinette, look at Tod, he is sitting in the +coal-box eating Phil's fusees." + +In 'Toinette we find Mrs. Phil, a handsome creature, young enough to +have been in the school-room, but with the face and figure of a Greek +goddess, and a pair of eyes lovely enough to haunt one's dreams as a +memory for a lifetime, and as to the rest, an inconsistent young madcap, +whose beauty and spirit seemed only a necessary part of the household +arrangements, and whose son and heir, in the person of the enterprising +Tod (an abbreviate of Theodore), was the source of unlimited domestic +enjoyment and the object of much indiscreet adoration. It was just like +Philip Crewe, this marrying on probabilities; and it was equally like +the rest of them to accept the state of affairs as an excellent joke, +and regard the result as an exquisite piece of pleasantry. 'Toinette +herself was only another careless, unworldly addition to the family +circle, and enjoyed her position as thoroughly as the rest did; and as +to Tod, what a delicate satire upon responsibilities Tod was, and how +tranquilly he comported himself under a _rgime_ which admitted of free +access into dangerous places, and a lack of personal restraint which +allowed him all the joys the infantile mind can revel in! + +At Dolly's exclamation Toinette rushed at him in his stronghold, and +extricated him from the coal-box with demonstrations of dismay. + +"Look at his white dress!" she wailed pathetically. "I only put it on a +few minutes ago; and he has eaten two dozen fusees, if this was n't an +empty box when he found it. I hope they won't disagree with him, Phil." + +"They won't," said Phil, composedly. "Nothing does. Dust him, and +proceed to business. I want to hear the rest of Dolly's story." + +"I _think_," said Mollie, "that he ate Shem and Ham this morning, for I +could only find Japheth after he had been playing with his Noah's Ark. +Go on, Dolly." + +"Wait until I have taken off my things," said Dolly, "and then we 'll +talk it over. We must talk it over, you know, if I am to go." + +She took off her hat, and then laid her shawl aside,--a little scarlet +shawl, draped about her figure and tossed over one shoulder smartly, +and by no means ungracefully,--and so stood revealed; and it must be +admitted she was well worth looking at. Not a beauty, but a fresh, +wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair, +and large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, because +capricious in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likely +to persuade people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolute +beauty could be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would rather +detract from the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reigned +supreme. + +"It is n't the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular," +she would say; "it's the being able to persuade people that you are +one,--or better than one. Don't some historians tell us that Cleopatra +had red hair and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind the +world so completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, and +to this day the generality of people are inclined to believe that it +was her supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at her +feet." + +Aime's face was more nearly perfect than Dolly's; Mollie's was more +imposing, child as she was; 'Toinette threw her far into the shade in +the matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did all +the difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionable +adorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source of +rejoicing and entertainment to the family. + +Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music, +paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the most +comfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest to +seat themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen, +large, fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, dropped +into a not ungraceful position at her feet. Aime, who was a little +maiden with a tender, _spirituelle_ face, and all the forethought of +the family, sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression. +'Toinette and Tod, _posed_ in the low nursery-chair,--the girl's firm, +white arm flung around the child,--swung lightly to and fro, fit models +for an artist. + +"You would make a first-class picture,--the lot of you," commented Phil, +amicably. + +"Never mind the picture," said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippers +up under her wrapper. "We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going to +the Bilberrys'. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had a +turquoise-blue sat--" + +"Heavenly!" interrupted Dolly. "I should think so. Particularly +celestial for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, and +peculiarly celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would be +as much as my reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You must +learn discretion, Mollie." + +"There is some consolation in knowing you can't get it," said 'Toinette. +"You won't be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what _are_ +you going to wear, Dolly?" + +"That is for the council to decide," Dolly returned. "First, we must +settle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it." + +"Other people go the other way about it," said Aime. + +"If we were only rich!" said Mollie. + +"But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not," said Dolly. +"There is one thing certain, however,--it must be white." + +"A simple white muslin," suggested 'Toinette, struggling in the grasp of +the immortal Tod,--"a simple white muslin, with an equally simple wild +flower in your hair, _ la_ Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager Bilberry +_would_ like that." + +"And a wide blue sash," suggested Mollie. "And the sleeves tied up with +bows. _And_ tucks, Dolly. Girls, just think of Dolly making great eyes +at an eligible Philistine, in white muslin and a sash and tucks!" + +She was a hardened little sinner, this Dolly, her only redeeming point +being that she was honest enough about her iniquities,--so honest +that they were really not such terrible iniquities after all, and were +regarded as rather good fun by the _habitus_ of Vagabondia proper. She +laughed just as heartily as the rest of them at Mollie's speech. She +could no more resist the temptation of making great eyes at eligible +Philistines than she could help making them at the entertaining but +highly ineligible Bohemians, who continually frequented Phil's studio. +The fear of man was not before her eyes; and the life she had led had +invested her with a whimsical yet shrewd knowledge of human nature, and +a business-like habit of looking matters in the face, which made her +something of a novelty; and when is not novelty irresistible? And as to +the masculine Philistines,--well, the audacity of Dolly's successes in +the very midst of the enemy's camp had been the cause of much stately +demoralization of Philistine battalions. + +At her quietest she created small sensations and attracted attention; +but in her wicked moods, when she was in a state of mind to prompt her +to revenge the numerous small slights and overt acts of lofty patronage +she met with, the dowagers stood in some secret awe of her propensities, +and not without reason. Woe betide the daring matron who measured swords +with her at such times. Great would be her confusion and dire her fall +before the skirmish was over, and nothing was more certain than that she +would retire from the field a wiser if not a better woman. After being +triumphantly routed with great slaughter on two or three occasions, +the enemy had discovered this, and decided mentally that it was more +discreet to let "little Miss Crewe" alone, considering that, though it +was humiliating to be routed, even by one of their own forces, it was +infinitely more so to be routed by an innocent-looking young person, +whose position was questionable, and who actually owed her vague shadow +of respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady Augusta +Decima Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, and +mother of the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little Miss +Crewe was music teacher and morning governess. + +So it was that Mollie's joke about the tucks and white muslin gained +additional point from the family recollection of past experiences. + +"But," said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, "it won't do to +talk nonsense all day. Here 's where we stand, you know. Coffee and +conversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggled +old green tarlatan on the other, and it's Tuesday now." + +"And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in the +family mind," began Phil, with composure. + +"But that 's nonsense," interrupted Aime. "And, as Dolly says, nonsense +won't do now. But," with a quaint sigh, "we always _do_ talk nonsense." + +But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, with +an exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie's lap, +disappeared through the open door. + +"I will be back in a minute," she called back to them, as she ran +up-stairs. "I have just thought of something." + +"Girls," said Mollie, "it's her white merino." + +And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,--a heap of soft +white folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging after +her upon the carpet,--the one presentable relic of a once inconsistently +elaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled and rolled-up +condition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to unlimited +improvement. + +"I had forgotten all about it," she said, triumphantly. "I have never +needed it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but it +looked so nice when I saw it that I could n't help buying it. I once +thought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly, +it 's what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,--things +always come somehow." + +It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be more +rejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would have +been over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperous +people. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turn +now, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrine +of the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly's best +bonnet, or Mollie's shoes, or Aime's gloves, when occasion demanded +such a course. So the merino was laid upon the table, and the council +rose to examine, comment, and suggest. + +"A train," said Dolly, concisely; "no trimming, and swan's-down. Even +the Bilberry could n't complain of that, I 'm sure." + +Mollie, resting her smooth white elbows on the table in a comfortably +lounging posture, regarded the garment with great longing in her drowsy +brown eyes. + +"I wish it was white satin," she observed, somewhat irrelevantly, "and +I was going to wear it at a real ball, with real lace, you know, and a +court train, and flowers, and a fan." + +Dolly looked down at her handsome childish face good-naturedly. She +was such an incongruous mixture of beauty and utter simplicity, this +easy-going baby of sixteen, that Dolly could not have helped liking her +heartily under any circumstances, even supposing there had been no tie +of relationship between them. + +"I wish it was white satin and you were going to wear it," she said. +"White satin is just the sort of thing for you, Mollie. Never mind, wait +until the figurative ship comes in." + +"And in the interval," suggested Aime, "put a stitch or so in that +wrapper of yours. It has been torn for a week now, and Tod tumbles over +it half a dozen times every morning before breakfast." + +Mollie cast her eyes over her shoulder to give it an indifferent glance +as it rested on the faded carpet behind her. + +"I wish Lady Augusta would mend things before she sends them to us," she +said, with sublime _navet_, and then, at the burst of laughter which +greeted her words, she stopped short, staring at the highly entertained +circle with widely opened, innocent eyes. "What are you laughing at?" +she said. "I 'm sure she might. She is always preaching about liking to +have something to occupy her time, and it would be far more charitable +of her to spend her time in that way than in persistently going into +poor houses where the people don't want her, and reading tracts to them +that they don't want to hear." + +Dolly's appreciation of the audacity of the idea reached a climax in an +actual shriek of delight. + +"If I had five pounds, which I have not, and never shall have," she +said, "I would freely give it just to see Lady Augusta hear you say +that, my dear. Five pounds! I would give ten--twenty--fifty, if need be. +It would be such an exquisite joke." + +But Mollie did not regard the matter in this light. To her +unsophisticated mind Lady Augusta represented nothing more than +periodical boredom in the shape of occasional calls, usually made +unexpectedly, when the house was at its worst, and nobody was especially +tidy,--calls invariably enlivened by severe comments upon the evil +propensities of poor relations in general, and the shocking lack of +respectability in this branch of the order in particular. Worldly wisdom +was not a family trait, Dolly's half-whimsical assumption of it being +the only symptom of the existence of such a gift, and Mollie was the +most sublimely thoughtless of the lot. Mrs. Phil had never been guilty +of a discreet act in her life. Phil himself regarded consequences less +than he regarded anything else, and Aime's childish staidness and +forethought had certainly not an atom of worldliness in it. Accordingly, +Dolly was left to battle with society, and now and then, it must be +admitted, the result of her brisk affrays did her no small credit. + +For a very short space of time the merino was being disposed of to an +advantage; Dolly seating herself in her chair again to renovate the +skirt; Aime unpicking the bodice, and Mollie looking on with occasional +comments. + +"Here is Griffith," she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder at +a figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was opened +without ceremony, and "Grif" made his appearance upon the scene. + +Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feel +inclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance. He +was a thin, undersized young man, rather out at elbows and shabby of +attire, and with a decided air of Bohemia about him; but his youthful +face was singularly pleasing and innocent, and his long-lashed, +brown-black eyes were more than good-looking,--they were absolutely +beautiful in a soft, pathetic way,--beautiful as the eyes of the +loveliest of women. + +He came into the room as if he was used to coming into it in an +every-day fashion; and Dolly, looking up, gave him a smile and a nod. + +"Ah, you are all here, are you?" he said. "What is on hand now? What is +all this white stuff for?" And he drew a chair up close by Dolly's side, +and lifted the merino in his hand. + +"For Friday night," answered Aime. "Bilberry's again, Griffith. Coffee +and conversation this time." + +Griffith looked at Dolly inquiringly, but Dolly only laughed and +shrugged her plump shoulders wickedly. + +"Look here," he said, with a disapproving air, "it ain't true, is it, +Dolly? You are not going to make a burnt-offering of yourself on the +Bilberry shrine again, are you?" + +But Dolly only laughed the more as she took the merino from him. + +"If you want a breadth of merino to hold, take another one," she +said. "I want that. And as to being a burnt-offering on the shrine of +Bilberry, my dear Griffith, you must know it is policy," and immediately +went on with her unpicking again, while Griffith, bending over in an +attitude more remarkable for ease than grace, looked on at her sharp +little glancing scissors with an appearance of great interest. + +It would perhaps be as well to pause here to account for this young +man's evident freedom in the family circle. It was very plain that he +was accustomed to coming and going when he pleased, and it was easy to +be adduced from his manner that, to him, Dolly was the chief attraction +in the establishment. The fact was, he was engaged to Dolly, and had +been engaged to her for years, and in all probability, unless his +prospects altered their aspect, would be engaged to her for years to +come. In past time, when both were absurdly young, and ought to have +been at school, the two had met,--an impressionable, good-natured, +well-disposed couple of children, who fell in love with each other +unreasoningly and honestly, giving no thought to the future. They +were too young to be married, of course, and indeed had not troubled +themselves about anything so matter of fact; they had fallen in love, +and enjoyed it, and, strange to say, had been enjoying it ever since, +and falling in love more deeply every day of their affectionate, +inconsequent, free-and-easy lives. What did it matter to them that +neither owned a solitary sixpence, for which they had not a thousand +uses? What did it matter to Dolly that Griffith's literary career had so +far been so unremunerative that a new suit is as an event, and an extra +shilling an era? What did it matter to Griffith that Dolly's dresses +were re-trimmed and re-turned and re-furbished, until their reappearance +with the various seasons was the opening of a High Carnival of jokes? +Love is not a matter of bread and butter in Vagabondia, thank Heaven! +Love is left to Bohemia as well as to barren Respectability, and, as +Griffith frequently observed with no slight enthusiasm, "When it comes +to figure, where's the feminine Philistine whose silks and satins and +purple and fine raiment fit like Dolly's do?" So it went on, and the +two adored each other with mutual simplicity, and, having their little +quarrels, always made them up again with much affectionate remorse, and, +scorning the prudential advice of outsiders, believed in each other and +the better day which was to come, when one or the other gained worldly +goods enough to admit of a marriage in which they were to be happy in +their own way,--which, I may add, was a way simple and tender, unselfish +and faithful, enough. + +It was quite evident, however, that Griffith was not in the best of +spirits this morning. He was not as sanguine as Dolly by nature, and +outward influences tended rather to depress him occasionally. But he +never was so low-spirited that Dolly could not cheer him, consequently +he always came to her with his troubles; and to her credit, be it said, +she never failed to understand and deal with them tenderly, commonplace +though they were. So she understood his mood very well to-day. Something +had gone wrong at "the office." ("The office" was the editorial den +which swallowed him up, and held him in bondage from morning until +night; appropriating his labor for a very small pecuniary compensation, +too, it may be added.) "Old Flynn," as the principal was respectfully +designated, had been creating one of his periodical disturbances, or he +had been snubbed, which, by the way, was not a rare event, and to poor +Griffith slights were stings and patronage poison. He could not laugh at +the enemy and scorn discomfiture as Dolly could, and the consequence of +an encounter with the Philistines on his part was usually a desperate +fit of low spirits, which made him wretched, bitter, and gloomy by +turns. + +This morning it appeared that his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, +and before many minutes had passed he was pouring forth his tribulations +with much frankness and simplicity. Mr. Griffith Donne's principal trial +was the existence of an elderly maiden aunt, who did not approve of him, +and was in the habit of expressing her disapproval in lengthy epistolary +correspondence, invariably tending to severe denunciation of his mode of +life, and also invariably terminating with the announcement that unless +he "desisted" (from what, or in what manner, not specified) she should +consider it her bounden duty to disinherit him forthwith. One of these +periodical epistles, having arrived before he had breakfasted, had +rather destroyed Griffith's customary equanimity, and various events of +the morning had not improved his frame of mind; consequently he came to +Dolly for comfort. + +"And she's coming to London, too," he ended, after favoring the +assemblage with extracts from the letter. "And, of course, she will +expect me to do the dutiful. Confound her money! I wish she would build +an asylum for irate, elderly spinsters with it, and retire into it +for the remainder of her natural life. I don't want it, and"--with +praiseworthy ingenuousness--"I shouldn't get it if I did!" + +"But," said Dolly, when they found themselves alone for a few minutes, +"it would be an agreeable sort of thing to have, Griffith, upon the +whole, wouldn't it?" + +They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his arm +thrown round the girl's waist, and she with both her plump, flexible +hands clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big, +round eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestling +attitudes and coaxing ways--with Griffith it may be understood--her +other adorers were treated cavalierly enough. + +"A nice sort of thing," echoed Griffith. "I should think it would. I +should like to have it for your sake. I don't care for it so much for +myself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy you +such things as Old Flynn's nieces wear. It would n't be a waste of good +material on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about a +winter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,--a dark blue velvet, +and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs made of +long white silky fur--" + +"Angora," said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in her +eyes. "Angora, Griffith." + +"I don't know what it's called," answered Griffith, "but it is exactly +your style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we were +only rich!" + +Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over his +shoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in some +such pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposing +that they were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must be +admitted that there is some consolation in being in a frame of mind +which can derive happiness from such innocent day-dreams. + +"Just think of the house we would have," she said, "and the fun we could +all have together, if you and I were rich and--and married, Griffith. +We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich +_and_ married--goodness, Griffith!" and she opened her eyes wide and +looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome +by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her +in both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an +extremely but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had +kissed her about half a dozen times. + +It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding. +She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to +it, and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite +a refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her +disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely. + +"We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich," she +said. "And then we could take care, of Aime and Mollie, and help them +to make grand marriages." + +But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat. + +"Dolly," he said, "have you never thought--not even _thought_ that you +would like to have made a grand marriage yourself?" And though there +was not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it was +glaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate with +misery at the thought. + +These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girl +bound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly's great difficulty was to +pilot him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and she +had her own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was to +confront him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking hold +of one of his coat buttons. + +"I have thought of it a hundred times," she said, "but not since I have +belonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteen +years old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have the +right to trouble us now. _You_ never think of marrying any one but me, +do you, Griffith?" + +"Think of marrying any one else!" exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. "I +would n't marry a female Rajah with a diamond--" + +"I know you wouldn't," Dolly interrupted. "I believe in you, Griffith. +Why won't you believe in me?" And the eyes lifted to his were so +perfectly honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics must +have believed them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, but +simply an unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, too +susceptible to outward influences for his own peace of mind. + +He was a _very_ unfortunate young man, it may as well be observed at +once, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was not +to blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable, +and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If he +had been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been more +successful; but in his intercourse with the world's slippery ones he +customarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for which +he had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; he +had fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck had +seemed to be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honest +men admired and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesied +better days; but so far it had really seemed that the people who were +willing to befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerful +cared little about the matter. So he alternately struggled and +despaired, and yet retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyed +life heartily in defiance of circumstances. With every member of the +Crewe household he was popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagement +to Dolly they regarded as a satisfactory arrangement. That he was barely +able to support himself, and scarcely possessed a presentable suit of +clothes, was to their minds the most inconsequent of trifles. It was +unfortunate, perhaps, but unavoidable; and their sublime trust in the +luck which was to ripen in all of them at some indefinite future time, +was their hope in this case. Some time or other he would "get into +something," they had decided, and then he would marry Dolly, and they +would all enjoy the attendant festivities. And in the mean time they +allowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith welcome, inviting him to +their little impromptu suppers, and taking care never to be _de trop_ on +the occasion of _tte--tte_ conversations. + +The _tte--tte_ of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went back +to her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach laid +for the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of mind. +He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in enthusiastic +confidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; she was +never out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself to her +accompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited themselves +to her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby parlor, one +instinctively felt that shabbiness was not so utterly unbearable after +all, and acknowledged that it had a brightness of its own. Meeting her +at a clan gathering in the camps of the Philistines, one always found +her in excellent spirits, and quite undamped in her enjoyment of the +frequently ponderous rejoicings. In the Bilberry school-room, among +dog-eared French grammars and lead-pencilled music, education did not +appear actually dispiriting; and now, as she sat by the fire, with the +bright, sharp little scissors in lier hand, and the pile of white merino +on her knees and trailing on the hearth-rug at her feet, Griffith found +her simply irresistible. Ah! the bliss that revealed itself in the +prospect of making her Mrs. Donne, and taking possession of her +entirely! The joy of seeing her seated in an arm-chair of his own, by +a fire which was solely his property, in a room which was nobody else's +paradise! He could imagine so well how she would regard such a state of +affairs as a nice little joke, and would pretend to adapt herself to +her position with divers daring witcheries practised upon himself to the +dethroning of his reason; how she would make innocent, wicked speeches, +and be coaxing and dazzling and mock-matronly by turns; and above all, +how she would enjoy it, and make him enjoy it, too; and yet sometimes, +when they were quiet and alone, would drop all her whimsical little airs +and graces, and make such tender, unselfish, poetic little speeches, +that he would find himself startled in life wonder at the depth +and warmth and generosity of her girlish heart. He often found her +surprising him after this manner, and the surprise usually came when he +had just been most nearly betrayed into thinking of her as an adorable +little collection of witcheries and whimsicalities, and forgetting that +she had other moods. More than once she had absolutely brought tears +into his eyes, and a thrill to his heart, by some sudden, pathetic, +trustful speech, made after she had been dazzling and bewildering for +hours with her pretty coquetries and daring flashes of wit. No one but +Griffith ever saw her in these intense moods. The rest of them saw her +intense enough sometimes but the sudden, uncontrollable flashes of light +Griffith saw now and then, fairly staggered him. And the poor fellow's +love for her was something akin to adoration. There was only this one +woman upon earth to him, and his whole soul was bound up in her. It was +for her he struggled against disappointment, it was for her he hoped, +it was only the desperate strength of his love for her that made +disappointment so terribly bitter to him. Certainly his love made him +better and sweeter-tempered and more energetic than he would have been +if his life had not been so full of it. His one ambition was to gain +success to lay at her feet. To him success meant Dolly, and Dolly meant +Paradise, an honest Paradise, in which primeval bliss reigned supreme +and trial was unknown. Consequently the bright little scissors glanced +before his eyes a sort of loadstar. + +"I did n't tell you that nephew of Old Flynn's had come back, did I?" he +said, at length. + +"No," answered Dolly, snipping diligently. "You never mentioned him. +What nephew, and where did he come from?" + +"A fellow of the name of Gowan, who has been travelling in the East for +no particular reason for the last ten years. He called on Flynn, at the +office, today, for the first time; and if I had been called upon to +kick him out, I should have regarded it as a cheerful and improving +recreation." + +"Why?" laughed Dolly. "Is he one of the Philistines?" + +"Philistine!" echoed Griffith, with disgust. "I should think so. A +complacent idiot in a chronic state of fatigue. Drove up to the door +in a cab,--his own, by the way, and a confoundedly handsome affair it +is,--gave the reins to his tiger, and stared at the building tranquilly +for at least two minutes before he came in, stared at Old Flynn when he +_did_ come in, stared at me, shook hands with Old Flynn exhaustedly, and +then subsided into listening and paring his nails during the remainder +of the interview." + +"Which might or might not be discreet under the circumstances," said +Dolly. "Perhaps he had nothing to say. Never mind, Grif. Let us console +ourselves with the thought that we are not as these utterly worthless +explorers of the East are," with a flourish of the scissors. + +"Better is a dinner of herbs in Vagabondia, with a garnish of +conversation and _bon-mots_, than a stalled ox among the Philistines +with dulness." + +But about an hour after Griffith had taken his departure, as she was +bending over the table, industriously clipping at the merino, a thought +suddenly crossed her mind, which made her drop her scissors and look up +meditatively. + +"By the way," she began, all at once. "Yes, it must be! How was it I +did not think of it when Grif was talking? I am sure, it was Gowan, Lady +Augusta said. To be sure it was. Mollie, this exploring nephew of +the Flynns is to partake of coffee and conversation with us at the +Bilberrys' on Friday, if I am not mistaken, and I never remembered it +until now." + + + +CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + +A TOILET in Vagabondia was an event. Not an ordinary toilet, of course, +but a toilet extraordinary,--such as is necessarily called forth by some +festive gathering or unusual occasion. It was also an excitement after +a manner, and not a disagreeable one. It made demands upon the inventive +and creative powers of the whole family, and brought to light hidden +resources. It also aroused energy, and, being a success, was rejoiced +over as a brilliant success. Respectability might complacently retire +to its well-furnished chamber, and choose serenely from its unlimited +supply of figurative purple and legendary fine linen, without finding a +situation either dramatic or amusing; but in Vagabondia this was not the +case. Having contrived to conjure up, as it were, from the secret places +of the earth an evening dress, are not gloves still necessary? and, +being safe as regards gloves, do not the emergencies of the toilet +call for minor details seemingly unimportant, but still not to be done +without? Finding this to be the case, the household of Crewe rallied all +its forces upon such occasions, and set aside all domestic arrangements +for the time being. It was not impossible that Dolly should have +prepared for a rejoicing without the assistance of Mollie and Aime, +Mrs. Phil and Tod, with occasional artistic suggestions from Phil and +any particular friend of the family who chanced to be below-stairs, +within hearing distance. It might not have appeared an impossibility, I +should say, to ordinary people, but the household of Crewe regarded +it as such, and accordingly, on the night of the Bilberry gathering, +accompanied Dolly in a body to her tiring-room. + +Upon the bed lay the merino dress, white, modest, and untrimmed, +save for the swan's-down accompaniments, but fitting to a shade and +exhibiting an artistic sweep of train. + +"It is a discreet sort of garment," said Dolly, by way of comment; +"and it is 'suitable to our social position.' Do you remember when +Lady Augusta said that about my black alpaca, girls? Pleasant little +observation, was n't it? 'Toinette, I trust hair-pins are not injurious +to infantile digestive organs. If they are, perhaps it would be as well +to convince Tod that such is the case. What is the matter, Mollie?" + +Mollie, leaning upon the dressing-table in her favorite attitude, was +looking rather discontented. She was looking very pretty, also, it might +be said. Her sleepy, warm brown eyes, being upraised to Dolly, showed +larger and warmer and browner than usual; the heavy brown locks, +tumbling down over her shoulders, caught a sort of brownish, coppery +shade in the flare of gas-light; there was a flush on her soft cheeks, +and her ripe lips were curved in a lovely dissatisfaction. Hence Dolly's +remark. + +"I wish I was going," said the child. + +Dolly's eyes flew open wide, in a very sublimity of astonishment. + +"Wish you were going?" she echoed. "To the Bilberrys'?" + +Mollie nodded. + +"Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself +a little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, +and find out what they do, and wear an evening dress." + +Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment. + +"Mollie," she said, "you are very innocent; and I always knew you were +very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,--so +utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a +Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe," still regarding her with that +questioning pity, "--I believe you really _could_. I must keep an eye on +you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger." + +It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it +should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to +see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She +understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, +and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she +suggested it. + +"Put it on, Mollie," she said, "and let us see how you would look in it. +I should like to see you in full dress." + +The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went +to the bed. + +"It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train," she +said; "but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it +together at the waist." + +She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; +and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned +round with a start. + +Standing in the light; the soft heavy white folds draping themselves +about her statuesque curves of form as they might have draped themselves +about the limbs of some young marble Grace or Goddess, with her white +arms and shoulders uncovered, with her unchildish yet youthful face, +with her large-irised eyes, her flush of momentary pleasure and half +awkwardness, she was just a little dazzling, and Dolly did not hesitate +to tell her so. + +"You are a beauty, Mollie," she said. "And you are a woman in that +dress. If you were only a Bilberry now, what a capital your face would +be to you, and what a belle you would be!" + +Which remarks, if indiscreet, were affectionate, and made in perfect +good faith. + +But when, having donned the merino herself, she made her way down the +dark staircase to the parlor, there was a vague ghost of uneasiness in +her mind, and it was the sight of Mollie in full dress which had aroused +it. + +"She is so very pretty," she said to herself. "I scarcely knew how very +pretty she was until I turned round from the glass to look at her. What +a pity it is that we are not rich enough to do her justice, and let her +enjoy herself as other girls do. And--and," with a little sigh, "I am +afraid we are a dreadfully careless lot. I wonder if Phil ever thinks +about it? And she is so innocent and ignorant too. I hope she won't fall +in love with anybody disreputable. I wish I knew how to take care of +her." + +And yet when she went into the parlor to run the gauntlet of family +inspection, and walked across the floor to show the sweep of her train, +and tried her little opera hood on Tod before putting it on herself, a +casual observer would certainly have decided that she had never had +a serious thought in her life. Griffith was there, of course. At +such times his presence was considered absolutely necessary, and his +admiration was always unbounded. His portion it was to tuck her under +his arm and lead her out to the cab when the train and wraps were +arranged and the hood put on. This evening, when he had made her +comfortable and shut the door, she leaned out of the window at the last +moment to speak to him. + +"I forgot to tell you, Griffith," she said, "Lady Augusta said something +about a Mr. Gowan to Mr. Bilberry the other day when she invited me. I +wonder if it is the Gowan you were telling me about? He is to be there +to-night." + +"Of course it is," answered Griffith, with sudden discontent. "He is +just the sort of fellow the Bilberrys would lionize." + +It was rather incorrect of Dolly to feel, as she did, a sudden flash +of anticipation. She could not help it. This intense appreciation of a +novel or dramatic encounter with an eligible Philistine was her great +weakness, and she made no secret of it even with her lover, which was +unwise if frank. + +She gave her fan a wicked flirt, and her eyes flashed as she did it. + +"A mine of valuable information lies unexplored before me," she said. +"I must make minute inquiries concerning the habits and peculiarities of +the people of the East. I shall take the lion in tow, and Lady Augusta's +happiness will be complete." + +Griffith turned pale--his conquering demon was jealousy. + +"Look here, Dolly," he began. + +But Dolly settled herself in her seat again, and waved her hand with an +air of extreme satisfaction. She did not mean to make him miserable, +and would have been filled with remorse if she had quite understood the +extent of the suffering she imposed upon him sometimes merely through +her spirit, and the daring onslaughts she made upon people for whom she +cared little or nothing. She understood his numerous other peculiarities +pretty thoroughly, but she did not understand his jealousy, for the +simple reason that she had never been jealous in her life. + +"Tell the cabman to drive on," she said, with a flourish. "There is balm +to be found even in Bilberry." + +And when the man drove on she composed herself comfortably in a corner +of the vehicle, in perfect unconsciousness of the fact that she had left +a thorn behind, rankling in the bosom of the poor fellow who watched her +from the pavement. + +She was rather late, she found, on reaching her destination. The parlors +were full, and the more enterprising of the guests were beginning to +group themselves in twos and threes, and make spasmodic efforts at +conversation. But conversation at a Bilberry assemblage was rarely a +success,--it was so evident that to converse was a point of etiquette, +and it was so patent that conversation was expected from everybody, +whether they had anything to say or not. + +Inoffensive individuals of retiring temperament, being introduced to +each other solemnly and with ceremony, felt that to be silent was to be +guilty of a glaring breach of Bilberry decorum, and, casting about in +mental agony for available remarks, found none, and were overwhelmed +with amiable confusion. Lady Augusta herself, in copper-colored silk of +the most unbending quality and make, was not conducive to cheerfulness. +Yet Dolly's first thought on catching sight of her this evening was a +cheerful if audacious one. + +"She looks as if she was dressed in a boiler," she commented, inwardly. +"I wonder if I shall ever live so long--I wonder if I ever _could_ live +long enough to submit to a dress like that. And yet she seems to be +almost happy in the possession of it. But, I dare say, that is the +result of conscious virtue." + +It was a very fortunate thing for Dolly that she was not easily +discomposed. Most girls entering a room full of people, evidently +unemployed, and in consequence naturally prone to not too charitable +criticism of new-comers, might have lost self-possession. Not so Dolly +Crewe. Being announced, she came in neither with unnecessary hurry nor +timidly, and with not the least atom of shrinking from the eyes turned +toward her; and, simple and unassuming a young person as she appeared +on first sight, more than one pair of eyes in question found themselves +attracted by the white merino, the white shoulders, the elaborate +tresses, and the serene, innocent-looking orbs. + +Lady Augusta advanced slightly to meet her, with a grewsome rustling of +copper-colored stiffness. She did not approve of Dolly at any time, but +she specially disapproved of her habit of setting time at defiance and +ignoring the consequences. + +"I am very glad to see you," she said, with the air of a potentate +issuing a proclamation. "I _thought_"--somewhat severely--"that you were +not coming at all." + +"Did you?" remarked Dolly, with tranquillity. + +"Yes," returned her ladyship. "And I could not understand it. It is nine +o'clock now, and I _believe_ I mentioned eight as the hour." + +"I dare say you did," said Dolly, unfurling her small downy fan, and +using it with much serene grace; "but I wasn't ready at eight. I hope +you are very well." + +"Thank you," replied her ladyship, icily. "I am very well. Will you +go and take a seat by Euphemia? I allowed her to come into the room +to-night, and I notice that her manner is not so self-possessed as I +should wish." + +Dolly gave a little nod of acquiescence, and looked across the room +to where the luckless Euphemia sat edged in a corner behind a row of +painfully conversational elderly gentlemen, who were struggling with +the best intentions to keep up a theological discourse with the Rev. +Marmaduke. Euphemia was the eldest Miss Bilberry. She was overgrown +and angular, and suffered from chronic embarrassment, which was not +alleviated by the eye of her maternal parent being upon her. She was one +of Dolly's pupils, and cherished a secret but enthusiastic admiration +for her. And, upon the whole, Dolly was fond of the girl. She was +good-natured and unsophisticated, and bore the consciousness of her +physical and mental imperfections with a humility which was almost +touching to her friend sometimes. Catching Dolly's eye on this occasion, +she glanced at her imploringly, and then, catching the eye of her +mother, blushed to the tips of her ears, and relapsed into secret +anguish of mind. + +But Dolly, recognizing her misery, smiled reassuringly, and made her +way across the room to her, insinuating herself through the theological +phalanx. + +"I am so glad you are here at last," said the girl. "I was so afraid +you would n't come. And oh, how nice you look, and how beautifully you +manage your train! I could never do it in the world. I should be sure +to tumble over it. But nothing ever seems to trouble you at all. You +haven't any idea how lovely you were when you went across the room to +mamma. Everybody looked at you, and I don't wonder at it." + +"They would have looked at anybody," answered Dolly, laughing. "They had +nothing else to do." + +"That is quite true, poor things," sighed Euphemia, sympathetically. +"You don't know the worst yet, either. You don't know how stupid they +are and can be, Dolly. That old gentleman near the screen has not spoken +one word yet, and he keeps sighing and wiping the top of his bald head +with his pocket-handkerchief until I can't keep my eyes off him, and I +am afraid he has noticed me. I don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but I have +got nothing to do myself, and I can't help it. But what I was going to +say was, that people looked at you as they did not look at others who +came in. You seem different some way. And I'm sure that Mr. Gowan of +mamma's has been staring at you until it is positively rude of him." + +Dolly's slowly moving fan became stationary for a moment. + +"Mr. Gowan," she said. "Who is Mr. Gowan?" + +"One of mamma's people," answered Euphemia, "though I'm sure I can't +quite understand how he can be one of them. He looks so different from +the rest. He is very rich, you know, and very aristocratic, and has +travelled a great deal He has been all over the world, they say. There +he is at that side-table." + +Dolly's eyes, travelling round the assemblage with complacent +indifference, rested at last on the side-table where the subject of +Euphemia's remarks sat. + +He really was an eligible Philistine, it seemed, despite Griffith's +unflattering description of him. + +He was a long-limbed, graceful man, with an aquiline face and superb +eyes, which at this moment were resting complacently upon Dolly herself. +It was not exactly admiration, either, which they expressed, it was +something of a more entertaining nature, at least so Dolly found it,--it +was nothing more nor less than a slowly awakening interest in her which +paid her the compliment of rising above the surface of evident boredom +and overcoming lassitude. It looked as if he was just beginning to study +her, and found the game worth the candle. Dolly met his glance with +steadiness, and as she met it she measured him. Then she turned to +Euphemia again and fluttered the fan slowly and serenely. + +"He's nice, is n't he?" commented the guileless Phemie. "If the rest of +them were like him, I don't think we should be so stupid, but as it is, +you know, he can't talk when there is nobody to talk to." + +"No," said Dolly. "One could hardly expect it of him. But I wonder why +he does not say something to that thin lady in the dress-cap." + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Phemie, "I don't wonder in the least. That is Miss +Berenice MacDowlas, Dolly." + +"Miss Berenice MacDowlas!" echoed Dolly, with a start. "You don't say +so?" + +"Yes," answered Euphemia. "Do you know her? You spoke as if you did." + +"Well--yes--no," answered Dolly, with a half laugh. "I should say I know +somebody who does." + +And she looked as if she was rather enjoying some small joke of her own. +The fact was that Miss MacDowlas was no other than Griffith's amiable +aunt. But, of course, it would not have done to tell this to Euphemia +Bilberry. Euphemia's ideas on the subject of the tender passion were +as yet crude and unformed, and Dolly Crewe was not prone to sentimental +confidences, so, as yet, Euphemia and indeed the whole Bilberry family, +remained in blissful ignorance of the very existence of such a person as +Mr. Griffith Donne. + +If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a +promising subject for diplomatic beguiling. + +"We have no need to depend upon her," was Dolly's mental decision. "One +glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with +her. I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory +when 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting." + +And her vivid recollection of the personal adornments of Tod at such +times brought a smile to her lips. + +She made herself very comfortable in her corner, and, exerting herself +to her utmost to alleviate Euphemia's sufferings, succeeded so far +that the girl forgot everything else but her enjoyment of her friend's +caustic speeches and satirical little jokes. Dolly was not afraid of +results, and, standing in due awe of public opinion, gave herself up to +the encouraging of any shadow of amusement quite heartily. She was so +entertaining in a small way upon this occasion, that Euphemia's frame of +mind became in some degree ecstatic. From her place of state across +the room, Lady Augusta regarded them with disapproval. It was so very +evident that they were enjoying themselves, and that this shocking +Dorothea Crewe was not to be suppressed. (Dorothea, be it known, was +Dolly's baptismal name, and Lady Augusta held to its full pronunciation +as a matter of duty.) It was useless, however, to disapprove. Behind the +theological phalanx Dolly sat enthroned plainly in the best of spirits, +and in rather a dangerous mood, to judge from outward appearances. There +was nothing of the poor relation about her at least. The little snowy +fan was being manipulated gracefully and with occasional artistic +nourishes, her enjoyable roulades of laughter tinkled audaciously, her +white shoulders were expressive, her gestures charming, and, above all, +people were beginning to look at her admiringly, if not with absolute +envy. Something must be done. + +Lady Augusta moved across the room, piloting her way between people on +ottomans and people on chairs, rustling with awe-inspiring majesty; +and, reaching the corner at last, she spoke to the daring Dolly over the +heads of the phalanx. + +"Dorothea," she said, "we should like a little music." + +This she had expected would be a move which could not fail to set the +young person in her right place. It would show her that her time was not +her own, and that she was expected to make herself useful; and it would +also set to rights any little mistake lookers-on might have previously +labored under as to her position. But even this did not destroy Dolly's +equanimity. She finished the small joke she had been making to Phemie, +and then turned to her august relative with a sweet but trying smile. + +"Music?" she said. "Certainly." And arose at once. + +Then Lady Augusta saw her mistake. It was only another chance for Miss +Dolly to display herself to advantage, after all. When she arose from +her seat in the corner, and gave a glance of inspection to her train +over her bare white shoulder, people began to look at her again; and +when she crossed the room, she was an actual Sensation,--and to create +a sensation in the Bilberry parlors was to attain a triumph. Worse than +this, also, as her ladyship passed the bald-headed individual by +the screen, that gentleman--who was a lion as regarded worldly +possessions--condescended to make his first remark for the evening. + +"Pretty girl, that," he said. "Nice girl,--fine figure. Relative?" + +"My daughter's governess, sir," replied her ladyship, rigidly. + +And in Dolly's passage across the room another incident occurred which +was not lost upon the head of the house of Bilberry. Near the seat of +Mr. Ralph Gowan stood a vacated chair, which obstructed the passage to +the piano, and, observing it, the gentleman in question rose and removed +it, bowing obsequiously in reply to Dolly's slight gesture of thanks, +and when she took her place at the instrument he moved to a seat near +by, and settled himself to listen with the air of a man who expected to +enjoy the performance. + +And he evidently did enjoy it, for a very pleasant little performance it +was. The songs had a thrill of either pathos or piquancy in every +word and note, and the audience found they were listening in spite of +themselves. + +When they were ended, Ralph Gowan sought out Lady Augusta in her +stronghold, and placidly proposed being introduced to her young guest; +and since it was evident that he intended to leave her no alternative, +her ladyship was fain to comply; and so, before half the evening was +over, Dolly found herself being entertained as she had never been +entertained before in the camps of the Philistines at least. And as to +the Eastern explorer, boredom was forgotten for the time, and he gave +himself up entirely to the amusing and enjoying of this piquant young +person with the white shoulders. + +"Crewe," he said to her during the course of their first conversation. +"I am sure Lady Augusta said 'Crewe.' Then you are relatives, I +suppose?" + +"Poor relations," answered Dolly, coolly, and without a shadow of +discomfiture. "I am the children's governess. Trying, is n't it?" + +Ralph Gowan met the gaze of the bright eyes admiringly. Even at this +early period of their acquaintance he was falling into the snare +every other man fell into,--the snare of finding that Dolly Crewe was +startlingly unlike anybody else. + +"Not for the children," he said. "Under such circumstances education +must necessarily acquire a new charm." + +"Thank you," said Dolly. + +When supper was announced, Lady Augusta made another attack and was +foiled again. She came to their corner, and, bending over Dolly, spoke +to her in stage-whisper. + +"I will bring young Mr. Jessup to take you into the supper-room, +Dorothea," she said. + +But Dolly's plans were already arranged, and even if such had not been +the case she would scarcely have rejoiced at the prospect of the escort +of young Mr. Jessup, who was a mild young idiot engaged in the study of +theology. + +"Thank you, Lady Augusta," she said, cheerfully, "but I have promised +Mr. Gowan." + +And Lady Augusta had the pleasure of seeing her leave the room a minute +later, with her small glove slipped through Ralph Gowan's arm, and the +plainly delighted face of that gentleman inclined attentively toward the +elaborate Frenchy coiffure. + +At the supper-table little Miss Crewe was a prominent feature. At her +end of the table conversation flourished and cheerfulness reigned. Even +Euphemia and young Mr. Jessup, who had come down together in a mutual +agony of embarrassment, began to pluck up spirit and hazard occasional +remarks, and finally even joined in the laughter at Dolly's witticism. + +People lower down the table glanced up across the various dishes, and +envied the group who seemed to set the general heaviness and discontent +at defiance. + +Dolly, accompanied by coffee and cakes, was more at home and more +delightful than ever, so delightful, indeed, that Ralph Gowan began to +regard even Lady Augusta with gratitude, since it was to her he was, to +some extent, indebted for his new acquaintance. + +"She is a delightful--yes, a delightful girl!" exclaimed young Mr. +Jessup, confidentially addressing-Euphemia, and blushing vividly at his +own boldness. "I never heard such a laugh as she has in my life. It +is actually exhilarating. It quite raises one's spirits," with mild +_navet_. + +Euphemia began to brighten at once. She could talk about Dolly Crewe if +she could talk about nothing else. + +"Oh, but you have n't seen _anything_ of her yet," she said, in a burst +of enthusiasm. "If you could only see her every day, as I do, and hear +the witty things she says, and see how self-possessed she is, when other +people would be perfectly miserable with confusion, there would be no +wonder at your saying you never saw anybody like her. _I_ never did, I +am sure. And then, you know, somehow or other, she always looks so well +in everything she wears,--even in the shabbiest things, and her things +are nearly always shabby enough, for they are dreadfully poor. She is +always finding new ways of wearing things or new ways of doing her hair +or--or something. It is the way her dresses fit, I think. Oh, dear, how +I do wish the dressmaker could make mine fit as hers do! Just look at +that white merino, now, for instance. It is the plainest dress in the +room, and there is not a bit of fuss or trimming about it, and yet +see how soft the folds look and how it hangs,--the train, you know. +It reminds me of a picture,--one of those pictures in fashionable +monthlies,--illustrations of love stories, you know." + +"It is a very pretty dress," said young Mr. Jessup, eying it with great +interest. "What did you say the stuff was called?" + +"Merino," answered Phemie. + +"Merino," repeated Mr. Jessup. "I will try and remember. I should like +my sister Lucinda Maria to have a dress like it." + +And he regarded it with growing admiration just tempered by the effect +of a mental picture of Lucinda Maria, who was bony and of remarkable +proportions, attired in its soft and flowing counterpart, with white +swan's-down adorning her bare shoulders. + +"May I ask," said Miss MacDowlas, at the bottom of the table, to Lady +Augusta,--"may I ask who that young lady with the fresh completion +is,--the young lady in white at the other end?" + +"That is my governess," replied her ladyship, freezingly. "Miss Dorothea +Crewe." + +And Miss MacDowlas settled her eye-glass and gave Miss Dorothea Crewe +the benefit of a prolonged examination. + +"Crewe," she said, at length. "Poor relation, I suppose?" with some +sharpness of manner. Dignity was lost upon Miss MacDowlas. + +"A branch of my family who are no great credit to it," was the majestic +rejoinder. + +"Oh, indeed," was the lady's sole remark, and then Miss MacDowlas +returned to her coffee, still, however, keeping her double eye-glass +across her nose and casting an occasional glance at Dolly. + +And just at this particular moment Dolly was unconsciously sealing +Ralph Gowan's fate for him. Quite unconsciously, I repeat, for the +most serious of Dolly's iniquities were generally unconscious. When +she flirted, her flirtations were of so frank and open a nature, that, +bewildered and fascinated though her victims might be, they must have +been blind indeed to have been deceived, and so there were those who +survived them and left the field safe, though somewhat sore at heart. +But when she was in her honest, earnest, life-enjoying moods, and meant +no harm,--when she was simply enjoying herself and trying to amuse her +masculine companion, when her gestures were unconscious and her speeches +unstudied, when she laughed through sheer merriment and was charmingly +theatrical because she could not help it and because little bits of +pathos and comedy were natural to her at times, then it was that the +danger became deadly; then it was that her admirers were regardless +of consequences, and defied results. And she was in just such a mood +to-night. + +"Come and see us?" she was saying. "Of course you may; and if you +come, you shall have an insight into the domestic workings of modern +Vagabondia. You shall be introduced to half a dozen people who toil not, +neither do they spin successfully, for their toiling and spinning seems +to have little result, after all. You shall see shabbiness and the spice +of life hand-in-hand; and, I dare say, you will find that the figurative +dinner of herbs is not utterly destitute of a flavor of _piquancy_. +You shall see people who enjoy themselves in sheer defiance of +circumstances, and who find a pathos in every-day events, which, in the +camps of the Philistines, mean nothing. Yes, you may come if you care +to." And Ralph Gowan, looking down at the changeful eyes, saw an almost +tender light shining in their depths,--summoned up all at once perhaps +by one of those inexplicable touches of pathos of which she had spoken. + +But even coffee and conversation must come to an end at last, and so the +end of this evening came. People began to drop away one by one, bidding +their hostess good-night with the air of individuals who had performed +a duty, and were relieved to find it performed and disposed of for the +time being. So Dolly, leaving her companion with a bright farewell, +and amiably disposing of Lady Augusta, slipped up-stairs to the +retiring-room for her wraps. In the course of three minutes she +came down again, the scarlet shawl draped around her, and the highly +ornamental hood donned. She was of so little consequence in the Bilberry +household that no one met her when she reappeared. Even the servants +knew that her convenience or inconvenience was of small moment, so the +task of summoning her cab would have devolved upon herself, had it not +been for a little incident, which might have been either an accident +or otherwise. As she came down the staircase a gentleman crossed the +threshold of the parlor and came to meet her,--and this gentleman was no +other than Ralph Gowan. + +"Let me have the pleasure of putting you into your--" + +"Cab," ended Dolly, with a trill of a laugh,--it was so evident that +he had been going to say "carriage." "Thank you, with the greatest of +pleasure. Indeed, it is rather a relief to me, for they generally keep +me waiting. And I detest waiting." + +He handed her into her seat, and lingered to see that she was +comfortable, perhaps with unnecessary caution; and then, when she gave +him her hand through the window, he held it for a moment longer than was +exactly called for by the exigencies of the occasion. + +"You will not forget that you have given me permission to call," he +said, hesitating slightly. + +"Oh, dear no!" she answered. "I shall not forget. We are always glad to +see people--in Vagabondia." + +And as the cab drove off, she waved the hand he had held in an airy +gesture of adieu, gave him a bewildering farewell nod, and, withdrawing +her face from the window, disappeared in the shadow within. + +"Great Jove!" meditated Ralph Gowan, when he had seen the last of her. +"And this is a nursery governess,--a sort of escape-valve for the spleen +and ill moods of that woman in copper-color. She teaches them French and +music, I dare say, and makes those spicy little jokes of hers over +the dog-eared arithmetic. Ah, well! such is impartial Fortune," And he +strolled back into the house again, to make his adieus to Lady Augusta, +with the bewitching Greuze face fresh in his memory. + +But, for her part, Dolly, having left him behind in the Philistine camp, +was nestling comfortably in the dark corner of her cab, thinking of +Griffith, as she always did think of him when she found herself alone +for a moment. + +"I wonder if he will be at home when I get there," she said. "Poor +fellow! he would find it dull enough without me, unless they were all +in unusually good spirits. I wonder if the time ever will come when we +shall have a little house of our own, and can go out together or stay at +home, just as we like." + + + +CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + +"After a holiday comes a rest day." The astuteness of this proverb +continually proved itself in Vagabondia, and this was more particularly +the case when the holiday had been Dolly's, inasmuch as Dolly was +invariably called upon to "fight her battles o'er again," and recount +her experiences the day following a visit, for the delectation of the +household. Had there appeared in the camps a Philistine of notoriety, +then that Philistine must play his or her part again through the medium +of Dolly's own inimitable powers of description or representation; +had any little scene occurred possessing a spice of flavoring, or +illustrating any Philistine peculiarity, then Dolly was quite equal to +the task of putting it upon the family stage, and re-enacting it with +iniquitous seasonings and additions of her own. And yet the fun was +never of an ill-natured sort. When Dolly gave them a correct embodiment +of Lady Augusta in reception of her guests, with an accurate description +of the "great Copper-Boiler costume," the bursts of applause meant +nothing more than that Dolly's imitative gifts were in good condition, +and that the "great Copper-Boiler costume" was a success. Then, the +feminine mind being keenly alive to an interest in earthly vanities, an +enlargement on Philistine adornments was considered necessary, and Dolly +always rendered herself popular by a minute description of the reigning +fashions, as displayed by the Bilberry element. She found herself quite +repaid for the trouble of going into detail, by the unsophisticated +pleasure in Mollie's eyes alone, for to Mollie outward furnishings +seemed more than worthy of description and discussion. + +Accordingly, the morning after Lady Augusta's _conversazione_, Dolly +gave herself up to the task of enlivening the household. It was Saturday +morning, fortunately, and on Saturday her visits to the Bilberry mansion +were dispensed with, so she was quite at liberty to seat herself by +the fire, with Tod in her arms, and recount the events of the evening. +Somehow or other, she had almost regarded him as a special charge +from the first. She had always been a favorite with him, as she was a +favorite with most children. She was just as natural and thoroughly at +home with Tod in her arms, or clambering over her feet, or clutching at +the trimmings of her dress, as she was under any other circumstances; +and when on this occasion Griffith came in at noon to hear the news, and +found her kneeling upon the carpet with outstretched hands teaching the +pretty little tottering fellow to walk, he felt her simply irresistible. + +"Come to Aunt Dolly," she was saying. "Tod, come to Aunt Dolly." And +then she looked up laughing. "Look at him, Griffith," she said. "He has +walked all the way from that arm-chair." And then she made a rush at +the child, and caught him in her arms with a little whirl, and jumped +up with such a light-hearted enjoyment of the whole affair that it was +positively exciting to look at her. + +It was quite natural--indeed, it would have been quite unnatural if she +had not found her usual abiding-place in her lover's encircling arm +at once, even with Tod conveniently established on one of her own, +and evidently regarding his own proximity upon such an occasion as +remarkable if nothing else. That arm of Griffith's usually _did_ slip +around her waist even at the most ordinary times, and long use had +so accustomed Dolly to the habit that she would have experienced some +slight feeling of astonishment if the familiarity had been omitted. + +It was rather a surprise to the young man to find that Miss MacDowlas +had appeared upon the scene, and that she had partaken of coffee and +conversation in the flesh the evening before. + +"But it's just like her," he said. "She is the sort of relative who +always _does_ turn up unexpectedly, Dolly. How does she look?" + +"Juvenescent," said Dolly; "depressingly so to persons who rely upon her +for the realizing of expectations. A very few minutes satisfied me that +I should never become Mrs. Griffith Donne upon _her_ money. It is a +very fortunate thing for us that we are of Vagabondian antecedents, +Griffith,--just see how we might trouble ourselves, and wear our +patience out over Miss MacDowlas, if we troubled ourselves about +anything. This being utterly free from the care of worldly possessions +makes one touchingly disinterested. Since we have nothing to expect, we +are perfectly willing to wait until we get it." + +She had thought so little about Ralph Gowan,--once losing sight of +him, as he stood watching her on the pavement, that in discussing other +subjects she had forgotten to mention him, and it was only Mollie's +entrance into the room that brought him upon the carpet. + +Coming in, with her hair bunched up in a lovely, disorderly knot, and +the dimple on her left cheek artistically accentuated by a small patch +of black, the youngest Miss Crewe yet appeared to advantage, when, after +appropriating Tod, she slipped down into a sitting posture with him on +the carpet, in the midst of the amplitude of folds of Lady Augusta's +once gorgeous wrapper. + +"Have you told him about the great Copper-Boiler costume, Dolly?" she +said, bending down so that one brown tress hung swaying before Tod's +eyes. "Has she, Griffith?" + +"Yes," answered Griffith, looking at her with a vague sense of +admiration. He shared all Dolly's enthusiasm on the subject of Mollie's +prettiness. + +"Was n't it good? I wish I was as cool as Dolly is. And poor Phemie--and +the gentleman who made love to you all the evening, Dolly. What was his +name? Was n't it Gowan?" + +Griffith's eyes turned toward Dolly that instant. + +"Gowan!" he exclaimed. "You didn't say anything about him. You didn't +even say he was there." + +"Did n't she?" said Mollie, looking up with innocently wide-open eyes. +"Why, he made love to her all--" + +"I wish you would n't talk such rubbish, Mollie," Dolly interrupted +her--a trifle sharply because she understood the cloud on her lover's +face so well. "Who said Mr. Gowan made love to me? Not I, you may be +sure. I told you he talked to me, and that was all." + +"You did not tell _me_ that much," said Griffith, dryly. + +It would scarcely have been human nature for Dolly not to have fired a +little then, in spite of herself. She was constitutionally good-natured, +but she was not seraphic, and her lover's rather excusable jealousy +was specially hard to bear, when, as upon this occasion, it had no real +foundation. + +"I did not think it necessary," she said; "and, besides, I forgot; +but if you wish to know the particulars," with a stiff little air +of dignity, "I can give them you. Mr. Gowan was there, and found the +evening stupid, as every one else did. There was no one else to talk to, +so he talked to me, and when I came home he put me into the cab. And, +the fact is, he is a good-natured Philistine enough. That is all, I +believe, unless you would like me to try to record all he said." + +"No, thank you," answered Griffith, and instantly began to torture +himself with imagining what he really had said, making the very natural +mistake of imagining what he would have said himself, and then giving +Ralph Gowan credit for having perpetrated like tender gallantries. He +never could divest himself of the idea that every living man found +Dolly as entrancing as he found her himself. It could only be one man's +bitter-sweet portion to be as desperately and inconsolably in love with +her as he was himself, and no other than himself, or a man who might be +his exact prototype, could have cherished a love at once so strong and +so weak. There had been other men who had loved Dolly Crewe,---adored +her for a while, in fact, and imagined themselves wretches because they +had been unsuccessful; but they had generally outlived their despair, +and their adoration, cooling for want of sustenance, had usually settled +down into a comfortable admiring liking for the cause of their +misery, but it would never have been so with Griffith. This ordinary, +hard-working, ill-paid young man had passionate impulse and hidden power +of suffering enough in his restive nature to make a broken hope a +broken life to him. His long-cherished love for the shabbily attired, +often-snubbed, dauntless young person yclept Dorothea Crewe was the +mainspring of his existence. He would have done daring deeds of valor +for her sake, if circumstances had called upon him to comport himself +in such tragic manner; had he been a knight of olden time, he would just +have been the chivalrous, hotheaded, but affectionate young man to have +entered the lists in his love's behalf, and tilted against tremendous +odds, and died unvanquished; but living in the nineteenth century, his +impetuosity, being necessarily restrained, became concentrated upon one +point, and chafed him terribly at times. Without Dolly, he would have +been without an object in life; with Dolly, he was willing to face +any amount of discouragement and misfortune; and at this stage of his +affection--after years of belief in that far-off blissful future--to +lose her would have brought him wreck and ruin. + +So when Dolly, in the full consciousness of present freedom from +iniquity, withdrew herself from his encircling arm and turned her +attention to Tod and Mollie, he was far more wretched than he had any +right to be, and stood watching them, and gnawing his slender mustache, +gloomy and distrustful. + +But this could not last long, of course. They might quarrel, but they +always made friends; and when in a short time Mollie, doubtless feeling +herself a trifle in the way, left the room with the child, Dolly's +impulsive warm-heartedness got the better of her upon this occasion as +upon all others. + +She came back to her lover's side and laid her hand on his arm. + +"Don't let us quarrel about Ralph Gowan, Griffith," she said. "It was my +fault; I ought to have told you." + +He fairly crushed her in his remorseful embrace almost before she had +finished her appeal. His distrust of her was as easily overcome as it +was roused; one touch of her hand, one suspicion of a tremor in her +voice, always conquered him and reduced him to penitent submission. + +"You are an angel," he said, "and I am an unfeeling clod. No other woman +would bear with me as you do. God bless you, Dolly." + +She nestled within his arms and took his caresses almost gratefully. +Perhaps it would have been wiser to have shown him how deep a sting his +want of faith gave her sometimes, but she was always so glad when their +misunderstandings were at an end, that she would not have so revenged +herself upon him for the world. The cool, audacious self she exhibited +in the camps of the Philistines was never shown to Griffith; in her +intercourse with him she was only a slightly intensified edition of the +child he had fallen in love with years before,--a bright, quick-witted +child, with a deep nature and an immense faculty for loving and clinging +to people. Dolly at twenty-two was pretty much what she had been at +fifteen, when they had quarrelled and made up again, loved each other +and romanced over the future brilliancy of prospect which now seemed +just as far off as ever. + +In five minutes after the clearing away of the temporary cloud, they +were in a seventh heaven of bliss, as usual. In some of his wanderings +about town, Griffith had met with a modest house, which would have been +the very thing for them if they had possessed about double the income of +which they were at present in receipt. He often met with houses of this +kind; they seemed, in fact, to present themselves to his longing vision +every week of his life; and I think it rather to his credit to mention +that he never failed to describe them to Dolly, and enlarge upon their +merits with much eloquence. Furniture warehouses also were a source of +some simple pleasure to them. _If_ they possessed the income (not that +they had the remotest prospect of possessing it), and rented the house, +naturally they would require furniture, and it was encouraging to +know that the necessary articles might be bought _if_ the money was +forthcoming. Consequently a low-priced table or a cheap sofa was a +consolation, if not a source of rejoicing, and their happiest hours were +spent in counting the cost of parlor carpets never to be purchased, +and window curtains of thin air. They even economized sternly in minor +matters, and debated the expenditure of an extra shilling as closely as +if it had been a matter entailing the deepest anxiety; and on the whole, +perhaps, practical persons might have condemned their affectionate, +hopeful weakness as childish and nonsensical, but they were happy in the +indulgence of it, at all events, and surely they might have been engaged +in a less tender and more worldly pastime. There were other people, +perhaps, weak and imprudent themselves it may be, who would have seen a +touch of simple pathos in this unconsciously shown faith in Fortune and +her not too kindly moods. + +"Old Flynn ought to raise my salary, you know, Dolly," said Griffith. "I +work hard enough for him, confound him!" somewhat irrelevantly, but with +laudable and not unamiable vigor. He meant no harm to "Old Flynn;" he +would have done a good-natured thing for him at any moment, the mild +expletive was simply the result of adopted custom. "There is n't a +fellow in the place who does as much as I do. I worked from seven in +the morning till midnight every day last week, and I wrote half his +editorials for him, and nobody knows he does n't get them up himself. If +he would only give me two hundred instead of one, just see how we could +live." + +"We could live on a hundred and fifty," put in Dolly, with an air of +practical speculation which did her credit, "if we were economical." + +"Well, say a hundred and fifty, then," returned Griffith, quite as +seriously, "for we should be economical. Say a hundred and fifty. It +would be nothing to him,--confound him!--but it would be everything in +the world to us. That house in the suburbs was only thirty pounds, +taxes and all, and it was just the very thing we should want if we were +married." + +"How many rooms?" asked Dolly. + +"Six, and kitchen and cupboards and all that sort of contrivances. I +asked particularly--went to see the landlord to inquire and see what +repairing he would do if we wanted the place. There is a garden of a +few yards in the front, too, and one or two rose-bushes. I don't know +whether they ever bloom, but if they do, you could wear them in your +hair. I thought of that the minute I saw them. The first time I saw you, +Dolly, you had a rose in your hair, and I remember thinking I had never +seen a flower worn in the same way. Other girls do n't wear things as +you wear them somehow or other." + +Dolly acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a coaxing, +patronizing little squeeze of his arm. + +"You think they don't," she said, "you affectionate old fellow, that is +it. Well, and what did the landlord say? Would he beautify?" + +"Well, yes, I think he would if the matter was pressed," said Griffith, +returning to the subject with a vigor of enjoyment inspiriting to +behold. "And, by the way, Dolly, I saw a small sofa at a place in town +which was just the right size to fit into a sort of alcove there is in +the front parlor." + +"Did you inquire the price?" said Dolly. + +"Well--no," cheerfully; "but I can, if you would like to know it. You +see, I had n't any money, and did n't know when I should have any, and +I felt rather discouraged at the time, and I had an idea the price would +make me feel worse, so I did not go in. But it was a comfortable, plump +little affair, covered with green,--the sort of thing I should like to +have in our house, when we have one. It would be so comfortable to throw +one's self down on to after a hard day's work, particularly if one had a +headache." + +"Yes," said Dolly; and then, half unconsciously and quite in spite of +herself, the ghost of a sigh escaped her. She could not help wishing +things were a trifle more real sometimes, bright and whimsically +unworldly as she was. + +"What did that mean?" Griffith asked her. + +She wakened up, as it were, and looked as happy as ever in an instant, +creeping a trifle closer to him in her loving anxiety to blind him to +the presence of the little pain in her heart. + +"Nothing," she said, briskly. And then--"We don't want much, do we, +Griffith?" + +"No," said Griffith, a certain grim sense of humor getting the better of +him. "And we have n't got it." + +She laughed outright at the joke quite enjoyably. Even the grimmest of +jocosities wins its measure of respect in Vagabondia, and besides, +her laugh removed the impression her sigh might have created. She was +herself again at once. + +"Never mind," she said. (It was always "never mind.") "Never mind, it +will all come right in the end. Humble merit _must_ be rewarded, and if +humble merit isn't, we can only console ourselves with the reasonable +reflection that there must be something radically wrong with the state +of society. Who knows whether you may not 'get into something,' as Phil +says, which may be twenty times better than anything Old Flynn can give +you!" with characteristic Vagabondian hopefulness. + +Just at this juncture Phil himself entered, or, rather, half entered, +for he only put his head--a comely, curled head surmounted by a +disreputable velvet cap--half into the room. + +"Oh, you are here, are you?" he said. "You are the fellow I want. I am +just touching up something I want to show you. Come into the studio for +a minute or so, Grif." + +"It is that picture Mollie sat for," he explained, as they followed him +into the big, barren room, dignified by the name of studio. "I have just +finished it." + +Mollie was standing before the picture herself when they went in to look +at it, but she did not turn round on hearing them. She had Tod in her +arms yet, but she seemed to have forgotten his very existence in her +preoccupation. And it was scarcely to be wondered at. The picture was +only a head,--Mollie's own fresh, drowsy-eyed face standing out in +contrast under some folds of dark drapery thrown over the brown hair +like a monk's cowl, two or three autumn-tinted oak leaves clinging to +a straying tress,--but it was effective and novel enough to be a +trifle startling. And Mollie was looking at it with a growing shadow of +pleasure in her expression. She was slowly awakening to a sense of its +beauty, and she was by no means dissatisfied. + +"It is lovely!" Dolly cried out, enthusiastically. + +"So it is," said Griffith. "And as like her as art can make it. It's a +success, Phil." + +Phil stepped back with a critical air to give it a new inspection. + +"Yes, it is a success," he said. "Just give me a chance to get it hung +well, and it will draw a crowd next season. You shall have a new dress +if it does, Mollie, and you shall choose it yourself." + +Mollie roused herself for a moment, and lighted up. + +"Shall I?" she said; and then all at once she blushed in a way that +made Dolly stare at her in some wonder. It seemed queer to think that +Mollie--careless child Mollie--was woman enough to blush over anything. + +And then Aime and 'Toinette came in, and looked on and admired just as +openly and heartily as the rest, only Aime was rather the more reticent +of the two, and cast furtive glances at Mollie now and then. But Mollie +was in a new mood, and had very little to say; and half an hour after, +when her elder sister went into the family sitting-room, she found her +curled up in an easy-chair by the fire, looking reflective. Dolly went +to the hearth and stood near her. + +"What are you thinking about?" she asked. + +Mollie stirred uneasily, and half blushed again. + +"I don't know," she answered. + +"Yes, you do," contradicted Dolly, good-naturedly. "Are you thinking +that it is a pleasant sort of a thing to be handsome enough to be made a +picture of, Mollie?" + +The brown eyes met hers with an innocent sort of deprecating +consciousness. "I--I never thought about myself in that way before," +admitted Mollie, naively. + +"Why," returned Dolly, quite sincerely, "you must have looked in the +glass." + +"Ye-es," with a slow shake of the head; "but it did n't look the same +way in the glass,--it did n't look as nice." + +Dolly regarded her with a surprise which was not unmingled with +affectionate pity. She was not as unsophisticated as Mollie, and never +had been. As the feminine head of the family, she had acquired a certain +shrewdness early in life, and had taken a place in the household the +rest were hardly equal to. There had been no such awakening as this for +her. At fourteen, she had been fully and complacently conscious of the +exact status of her charms and abilities, physical and mental. She had +neither under-nor over-rated them. She had smiled back at her reflection +in her mirror, showing two rows of little milk-white teeth, and being +well enough satisfied with being a charming young person with a secure +complexion and enviable self-poise. She understood herself, and +attained perfection in the art of understanding others. Her rather +sharp experience had not allowed _her_ to look in the glass in guileless +ignorance of what she saw there, and perhaps this made her all the +fonder of Mollie. + +"What kind of a dress are you going to choose if Phil buys you one?" she +asked. + +"Maroon," answered Mollie. "Oh!" with a little shuddering breath of +desperate delight, "how I wish I could have a maroon silk!" + +Dolly shook her head doubtfully. + +"It wouldn't be serviceable, because you could only have the one, and +you could n't wear it on wet days," she said. + +"I should n't care about its being serviceable," burst forth innocent +Vagabondia, rebelling against the trammels of prudence. "I want +something pretty. I do so detest serviceable things. I would stay in the +house all the wet days if I might have a maroon silk to wear when it was +fine." + +"She is beginning to long for purple and fine linen," sighed Dolly, as +she ran up to her bedroom afterward. "The saints forefend! It is a bad +sign. She will fall in love the next thing. Poor, indiscreet little +damsel!" + +But, despite her sage lamentations, there was even at that moment a plan +maturing in her mind which was an inconsistent mixture of Vagabondia's +goodnature and whim. Mollie's fancy for the maroon silk had struck her +as being artistic, and there was not a Crewe among them who had not +a weakness for the artistic in effect. Tod himself was imaginatively +supposed to share it and exhibit preternatural intelligence upon the +subject. In Dolly it amounted to a passion which she found it impossible +to resist. By it she was prompted to divers small extravagances at +times, and by it she was assisted in the arranging of all her personal +adornments. It was impossible to slight the mental picture of Mollie +with maroon drapery falling about her feet, with her cheeks tinted with +excited color, and with that marvel of delight in her eyes. She could +not help thinking about it. + +"She would be simply incomparable," she found herself soliloquizing. +"Just give her that dress, put a white flower in her hair and set her +down in a ballroom, or in the dress circle of a theatre, and she would +set the whole place astir. Oh, she must have it." + +It was very foolish and extravagant of course; even the people who are +weakly tolerant enough to rather lean toward Dorothea Crewe, will +admit this. The money that would purchase the maroon garment would have +purchased a dozen minor articles far more necessary to the dilapidated +household; but while straining at such domestic gnats as these articles +were, she was quite willing and even a trifle anxious to swallow +Mollie's gorgeous camel. Such impulsive inconsistency was +characteristic, however, and she betook herself to her bedroom with the +intention of working out the problem of accommodating supply to demand. + +She took out her purse and emptied its contents on to her +dressing-table. Two or three crushed bills, a scrap or so of +poetry presented by Griffith upon various tender occasions, and a +discouragingly small banknote, the sole remains of her last quarter's +salary The supply was not equal to the demand, it was evident. But she +was by no means overpowered. She was dashed, but not despairing. Of +course, she had not expected to launch into such a reckless piece of +expenditure all at once, she had only thought she might attain her +modest ambition in the due course of time, and she thought so yet. She +crammed bills and bank-note back into the purse with serene cheerfulness +and shut it with a little snap of the clasp. + +"I will begin to save up," she said, "and I will persuade Phil to help +me. We can surely do it between us, and then we will take her somewhere +and let her have her first experience of modern society. What a +sensation she would create in the camps of the Philistines!" + +She descended into the kitchen after this, appearing in those lower +regions in the full glory of apron and rolled-up sleeves, greatly to the +delight of the youthful maid-of-all-work, who, being feeble of intellect +and fond of society, regarded the prospect of spending the afternoon +with her as a source of absolute rejoicing. The "Sepoy," as she was +familiarly designated by the family, was strongly attached to Dolly, as, +indeed, she was to every other member of the household. The truth was, +that the usefulness of the Sepoy (whose baptismal name was Belinda) was +rather an agreeable fiction than a well-established fact. She had been +adopted as a matter of charity, and it was charity rather than any +recognized brilliance of parts which caused her to be retained. Phil had +picked her up on the streets one night in time gone by, and had brought +her home principally because her rags were soaked and she had asserted +that she had nowhere to go for shelter, and partly, it must be +confessed, because she was a curiosity. Having taken her in, nobody was +stern enough to turn her out to face her fate again, and so she stayed. +Nobody taught her anything in particular about household economy, +because nobody knew anything particular to teach her. It was understood +that she was to do what she could, and that what she could not do +should be shared among them. She could fetch and carry, execute small +commissions, manage the drudgery and answer the door-bell, when she was +presentable, which was not often; indeed, this last duty had ceased +to devolve upon her, after she had once confronted Lady Augusta with +personal adornments so remarkable as to strike that august lady dumb +and rigid with indignation upon the threshold, and cause her, when she +recovered herself, to stonily, but irately demand an explanation of the +gratuitous insult she considered had been offered her. Belinda's +place was in the kitchen, after this, and to these regions she usually +confined herself, happily vigorous in the discharge of her daily duties. +She was very fond of Dolly, and hailed the approach of her days of +freedom with secret demonstrations of joy. She hoarded the simple +presents of finery given her by that young person with care, and +regarded them in the light of sacred talismans. A subtle something in +her dwarfed, feeble, starved-out nature was stirred, it may be, by the +sight of the girl's life and brightness; and, apart from this, it +would not have been like Dolly Crewe if she had not sympathized, half +unconsciously, half because she was constitutionally sympathetic, with +even this poor stray. If she had been of a more practical turn of mind, +in all probability she would have taken Belinda in hand and attacked the +work of training her with laudable persistence; but, as it was, private +misgivings as to the strength of her own domestic accomplishments caused +her to confine herself to more modest achievements. She could encourage +her, at least, and encourage her she did with divers good-natured +speeches and a leniency of demeanor which took the admiring Sepoy by +storm. + +Saturday became a white day in the eyes of Belinda, because, being a +holiday, it left Dolly at liberty to descend into the kitchen and apply +herself to the study of cookery as a science, with much agreeable bustle +and a pleasant display of high spirit and enjoyment of the novelty of +her position. She had her own innocent reasons for wishing to become a +proficient in the art, and if her efforts were not always crowned with +success, the appearance of her handiwork upon the table on the +occasion of the Sunday's dinner never disturbed the family equilibrium, +principally, perhaps, because the family digestion was unimpaired. They +might be jocose, they had been ironical, but they were never severe, +and they always addressed themselves to the occasionally arduous task +of disposing of the viands with an indifference to consequences which +nothing could disturb. + +"One cannot possibly be married without knowing something of cookery," +Dolly had announced oracularly; "and one cannot gain a knowledge of +it without practising, so I am going to practise. None of you are +dyspeptic, thank goodness, so you can stand it. The only risk we run is +that Tod might get hold of a piece of the pastry and be cut off in the +bloom of his youth; but we must keep a strict watch upon him." + +And she purchased a cookery book and commenced operations, and held +to her resolve with Spartan firmness, encouraged by private but +enthusiastic bursts of commendation from Griffith, who, finding her out, +read the tender meaning of the fanciful seeming whim, and was so touched +thereby that the mere sight of her in her nonsensical little affectation +of working paraphernalia raised him to a seventh heaven of bliss. + +When she made her entrance into the kitchen on this occasion, and began +to bustle about in search for her apron, Belinda, who was on her knees +polishing the grate, amidst a formidable display of rags and brushes, +paused to take breath and look at her admiringly. + +"Are yer goin' to make yer pies 'n things, Miss Dolly?" she asked. +"Which, if ye are, yer apern 's in the left 'and dror." + +"So it is," said Dolly. "Thank you. Now where is the cookery book?" + +"Left 'and dror agin," announced Belinda, with a faint grin. "I allus +puts it there." + +Whereupon Dolly, making industrious search for it, found it, and applied +herself to a deep study of it, resting her white elbows on the dresser, +and looking as if she had been suddenly called upon to master its +contents or be led to the stake. She could not help being intense and in +earnest even over this every-day problem of pies and puddings. + +"Fricassee?" she murmured. "Fricassee was a failure, so was mock-turtle +soup; it looked discouraging, and the fat _would_ swim about in a way +that attracted attention. Croquettes were not so bad, though they were +a little stringy; but beef _ la mode_ was positively unpleasant. Jugged +hare did very well, but oyster _pts_ were dubious. Veal pie Griffith +liked." + +"There's somebody a-ringin' at the door-bell," said Belinda, breaking +in upon her. "He's rung twict, which I can go, mum, if I ain't got no +smuts." + +Dolly looked up from her book. + +"Some one is going now, I think," she said. "I hope it is n't a +visitor," listening attentively. + +But it was a visitor, unfortunately. In a few minutes Mollie came in, +studiously perusing a card she held in her hand. + +"Ralph," she proclaimed, coming forward slowly. "Ralph Gowan. It's Lady +Augusta's gentleman, Dolly, and he wants to see you." + +Dolly took the card and looked at it, giving her shoulders a tiny shrug +of surprise. + +"He has not waited long," she said; "and it is rather inconvenient, but +it can't be helped. I suppose I shall have to run up-stairs and present +him to Phil." + +She untied her apron, drew down her sleeves, settled the bit of ribbon +at her throat, and in three minutes opened the parlor door and greeted +her visitor, looking quite as much in the right place as she had done +the night before in the white merino. + +"I am very glad to see you," she said, shaking hands with him, "and I +am sure Phil will be, too. He is always glad to see people, and just now +you will be doubly welcome, because he has a new picture to talk about. +Will you come into the studio, or shall I bring him here? I think it had +better be the studio at once, because you will be sure to drift there in +the end,--visitors always do." + +"The studio let it be, if you please," answered Gowan, wondering, just +as he had done the night before, at the indescribable something in +her manner which was so novel because it was so utterly free from any +suggestion of affectation. It would have been a difficult matter to tell +her that he had not come for any other reason than to see herself again, +and yet this really was the case. + +But his rather fanciful taste found Phil a novelty also when she led him +into the studio, and presented him to that young man, who was lying upon +a couch with a cigar in his mouth. + +Phil had something of the same cool friendliness of deportment, and, +being used to the unexpected advent of guests at all hours, was quite +ready to welcome him. He had the same faculty for making noticeable +speeches, too, and was amiable, though languid and _dbonnaire_, and by +no means prone to ceremony. In ten minutes after he had entered the room +Ralph Gowan understood, as by magic, that, little as the world was to +these people, they had, in their Bohemian fashion, learned through sheer +tact to comprehend and tolerate its weaknesses. He examined the pictures +on the walls and in the folios, and now and then found himself roused +into something more than ordinary admiration. But he was disappointed in +one thing. He failed in accomplishing the object of his visit. + +After she had seen that Phil and the paintings occupied his attention to +some extent, Dolly left them. + +"I was beginning to think about pies and puddings when you came," she +said, "and I must go back to them. Saturday is the only day Lady Augusta +leaves me, in which to improve in branches of domestic usefulness," with +an iniquitous imitation of her ladyship's manner. + +After which she went down to the kitchen again and plunged into culinary +detail with renewed vigor, thinking of the six-roomed house in the +suburbs, and the green sofa which was to fit into the alcove in the +front parlor, growing quite happy over the mental picture, in blissful +unconsciousness of the fact that a train had been that day laid, and +that a spark would be applied that very night through the medium of a +simple observation made by Phil to her lover. + +"Gowan was here this morning, Grif, and Dolly brought him into the +studio. He's not a bad sort of fellow for a Philistine, and he seems +to know something about pictures. I should n't be surprised if he came +again." + + + +CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + +THIS was the significant and poetic appellation which at once attached +itself to Ralph Gowan after his first visit to the studio in Bloomsbury +Place, and, as might have been expected, it was a fancy of Dolly's, the +affixing of significant titles being one of her _fortes_. + +"The lilies of the field," she observed, astutely, "are a distinct +class. They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his +glory was not arrayed like one of these. Yes, my young friends, Mr. +Ralph Gowan is a lily of the field." + +And she was not far wrong. Twenty-seven years before Mr. Ralph Gowan +had been presented to an extended circle of admiring friends as the sole +heir to a fortune large enough to have satisfied the ambitions of half +a dozen heirs of moderate aspirations, and from that time forward his +lines had continually fallen in pleasant places. As a boy he had been +handsome, attractive, and thoroughbred, and consequently popular; his +good looks made him a favorite with women, his good fortune with men; +his friends were rather proud of him, and his enemies were powerless +against him; he found it easy to be amiable because no obstacles to +amiability lay in his path; and altogether he regarded existence as a +comfortable enough affair. + +At school his fellows had liked him just as boys as well as men are apt +to like fortunate people; and as he had grown older he had always found +himself a favorite, it may be for something of the same reason. But +being, happily, a gentleman by nature, he had not been much spoiled by +the general adulation. Having been born to it, he carried himself easily +through it, scarcely recognizing the presence of what would have been +patent to men less used to popularity. He was fond of travelling, and so +had amused himself by comfortably arranging uncomfortable journeys and +exploring pleasantly those parts of the earth which to ordinary tourists +would appear unattainable. + +He was not an ordinary young man, upon the whole, which was evinced by +his making no attempt to write a book of travels, though he might safely +have done so; and really, upon the whole, "lily of the field" though +chance had made him, he was neither useless nor purposeless, and rather +deserved his good luck than otherwise. + +Perhaps it was because he was not an ordinary individual that his fancy +was taken by the glimpse he had caught of life in Vagabondia. It was +his first glimpse of the inner workings of such a life, and its +novelty interested him. A girl of twenty-two who received attention and +admiration in an enjoyable, matter-of-fact manner, as if she was used +to and neither over- nor under-valued it, who could make coffee and +conversation bearable and even exciting, who could hold her own against +patronage and slights, and be as piquant and self-possessed at home as +in society, who could be dazzling at night and charming in the morning, +was novelty enough in herself to make Bloomsbury Place attractive, even +at its dingiest, and there were other attractions aside from this one. + +Phil in the studio, taking life philosophically, and regarding the world +and society in general with sublime and amiable tolerance, was as unique +in his way as Dolly was in hers; his handsome girl-wife, who had come +in to them with her handsome child in her arms, was unique also; Mollie +herself, who had opened the door and quite startled him with the mere +sight of her face,--well, Mollie had impressed him as she impressed +everybody. And he was quite observant enough to see the element of +matter-of-fact, half-jocular affection that bound them one to another; +he could not help seeing it, and it almost touched him. They were not a +sentimental assembly, upon the whole, but they were fond of each other +in a style peculiar to themselves, and ready to unite in any cause which +was the cause of the common weal. The family habit of taking existence +easily and regarding misfortunes from a serenely philosophical +standpoint, amused Ralph Gowan intensely. It had spiced Dolly's +conversation, and it spiced Phil's; indeed, it showed itself in more +than words. They had banded themselves against unavoidable tribulation, +and it could not fail to be beautifully patent to the far-seeing mind +that, taking all things together, tribulation had the worst of it. + +They were an artistic study, Ralph Gowan found, and so, in his character +of a "lily of the field," he fell into the habit of studying them, as +an amusement at first, afterwards because his liking for them became +friendly and sincere. + +It was an easy matter to call again after the first visit,--people +always did call again at Bloomsbury Place, and Ralph Gowan was no +exception to the rule. He met Phil in the city, and sauntered home with +him to discuss art and look at his work; he invited him to first-class +little dinners, and introduced him to one or two men worth knowing; +in short, it was not long before the two were fond of each other in +undemonstrative man fashion. The studio was the sort of place Gowan +liked to drop into when time hung heavily on his hands, and consequently +hardly a week passed without his having at least once or twice dropped +into it to sit among the half dozen of Phil's fellow Bohemians, who were +also fond of dropping in as the young man sat at his easel, sometimes +furiously at work, sometimes tranquilly loitering over the finishing +touches of a picture. They were good-natured, jovial fellows, too, these +Bohemian visitors, though they were more frequently than not highly +scented with the odor of inferior tobacco, and rarely made an +ostentatious display in the matter of costume, or were conspicuously +faultless in the matter of linen; they failed to patronize the +hairdresser, and were prone to various convivialities, but they were +neither vicious nor vulgar, and they were singularly faithful to their +friendships for each other. They were all fond of Phil, and accordingly +fraternized at once with his new friend, adopting him into their circle +with the ease of manner and freedom of sentiment which seemed the +characteristic of their class; and they took to him all the more kindly +because, amateur though he was, he shared many of their enthusiasms. + +Of course he did not always see Dolly when he went. During every other +day of the week but Saturday she spent her time from nine in the morning +until five in the afternoon in the rather depressing atmosphere of +the Bilberry school-room. She vigorously assaulted the foundations of +Lindley Murray, and attacked the rules of arithmetic; she taught Phemie +French, and made despairing but continuous efforts at "finishing" her +in music. But poor Phemie was not easily "finished," and hung somewhat +heavily upon the hands of her youthful instructress; still, she was +affectionate, if weak-minded, and so Dolly managed to retain her good +spirits. + +"I believe they are all fond of me in their way," she said to +Griffith,--"all the children, I mean; and that is something to be +thankful for." + +"They couldn't help being fond of you," returned the young man. "Did any +human being ever know you without being fond of you?" + +"Yes," said Dolly; "Lady Augusta knows me; and I do not think--no," with +a cheerfully resigned shake of the head, which did not exactly express +deep regret or contrition, "I really do not think Lady Augusta is what +you might call overwhelmed with the strength of her attachment for me." + +"Oh, Lady Augusta!" said Griffith. "Confound Lady Augusta!" + +Griffith was one of the very few people who did not like Ralph Gowan, +and perhaps charitably inclined persons will be half inclined to +excuse his weakness. It was rather trying, it must be admitted, for a +desponding young man rather under stress of weather, so to speak, to +find himself thrown into sharp contrast with an individual who had +sailed in smooth waters all his life, and to whom a ripple would have +been a by no means unpleasant excitement; it was rather chafing to +constantly encounter this favorite of fortune in the best of humors, +because he had nothing to irritate him; thoroughbred, unruffled, and +_dbonnaire_ because he had nothing of pain or privation to face; +handsome, well dressed, and at ease, because his income and his tastes +balanced against each other accommodatingly. Human nature rose up +and battled in the Vagabondian breast; there were times when, for the +privilege of administering severe corporeal chastisement to Ralph +Gowan, Griffith would have sacrificed his modest salary with a Christian +fortitude and resignation beautiful to behold. To see him sitting in one +of the faded padded chairs, roused all his ire, and his consciousness of +his own weakness made the matter worse; to see him talking to Dolly, and +see her making brisk little jokes for his amusement, was worse still, +and drove him so frantic that more than once he had turned quite pale in +his secret frenzy of despair and jealousy, and had quite frightened the +girl, though he was wise enough to keep his secret to himself. It was +plain enough that Gowan admired Dolly, but other men had admired her +before; the sting of it was that this fellow, with his cool airs and +graces and tantalizing repose of manner, had no need to hold back if +he could win her. There would be no need for him to plan and pinch and +despair; no need for faltering over odd shillings and calculating odd +pence; _he_ could marry her in an hour if she cared for him, and he +could surround her with luxuries, and dress her like a queen, and make +her happy, as she deserved to be. And then the poor fellow's heart would +beat fiercely, and the very blood would tremble in his veins, at the +mere thought of giving her up. + +One night after they had been sitting together, and Gowan had just left +the room with Phil, Dolly glanced up from her work and saw her lover +looking at her with a face so pale and wretched that she was thrown into +a passion of fear. + +She tossed her work away in a second, and, making one of her little +rushes at him, was caught in his arms and half suffocated. She knew +the instant she caught sight of his face what he was suffering, though +perhaps she did not know the worst. + +"Oh, why will you?" she cried out, in tears, all at once. "It is cruel! +You are as pale as death, and I know--I know so well what it means." + +"Tell me you will never forget what we have been to each other," +he said, when he could speak; "tell me you don't care for that +fellow,--tell me you love me, Dolly, tell me you love me." + +She did not hesitate a moment; she had never flirted with Griffith +in her life, and she knew him too well to try him when he wore that +desperate, feverish look of longing in his eyes. She burst into an +impetuous sob, and clung to him with both hands. + +"I love you with all my soul," she said. "I will never _let_ you give +me up; and as to forgetting, I might die, but I could never forget. Care +for Ralph Gowan! I love _you_, Griffith, I love _you!_" + +"And you don't regret?" he said, piteously. "Oh, Dolly, just think of +what _he_ could give you; and then think of our hopeless dreams about +miserable six-roomed houses and cheap furniture." + +"You will make me hate him," cried Dolly, her gust of love and pity +making her fierce. "I don't want anything anybody could give me. I only +want you, _dear_ old fellow,--_darling_ old fellow," holding him fast, +as if she would never let him go, and shedding a shower of impassioned, +tender tears. "Oh, my darling, only wait until I am your own wife, and +see how happy I will be, and how happy I will make you,--for I _can_ +make you happy,--and see how I will work in our little home for your +sake, and how content I will be with a little. Oh, what must I do to +show you how I love you! Do you think I could have cared for Ralph Gowan +all these years as I have cared for you? No indeed; but I shall care for +you forever, and I would wait for you a _thousand_ years if I might only +be your wife, and die in your arms at the end of it." + +And she believed every word she said, too, and would have been willing +to lay down her young life to prove it, extravagant as it may all sound +to the discreet. And she quite believed, too, that she could never have +so loved any other man than this unlucky, jealous, tempestuous one; but +I will take the liberty of saying that this was a mistake, for, being +an impassioned, heart-ruled, unworldly young person, it is quite likely +that if Ralph Gowan had stood in Mr. Griffith Donne's not exactly +water-tight shoes, she would have clung to him quite as faithfully, and +believed in his perfections quite as implicitly, and quite as scornfully +would have depreciated the merits of his rival; but chance had arranged +the matter for her years before, and so Mr. Griffith was the hero. + +"Ralph Gowan!" she flung out. "What is Ralph Gowan, or any other man on +earth, to me? Did I love _him_ before I knew what love was, and scarcely +understood my own heart? Did I grow into a woman loving _him_ and +clinging to _him_ and dreaming about him? Have I ever had any troubles +in common with _him_? Did we grow up together, and tell each other all +our thoughts and help each other to bear things? Let him travel in the +East, if he likes,"--with high and rather inconsistent disdain,--"and +let him have ten thousand a year, if he will,--a hundred thousand +millions a year wouldn't buy me from you--my own!" In another burst, +"Let him ride in his carriage, if he chooses,"--rather, as if such +a course would imply the most degraded weakness; but, as I have said +before, she was illogical, if affectionate,--"let him ride in his +carriage. I would rather walk barefoot through the world with you +than ride in a hundred carriages, if every one of them was lined with +diamonds and studded with pearls." + +There was the true flavor of Vagabondia's indiscretion and want of +forethought in this, I grant you; but such speeches as these were Dolly +Crewe's mode of comforting her lover in his dark moods; at least, she +was sincere,--and sincerity will excuse many touches of extravagance. +And as to Griffith, every touch of loving, foolish rhapsody dropped upon +his heart like dew from heaven, filling him with rapture and drawing him +nearer to her than before. + +"But," he objected,--a rather weak objection, offered rather weakly, +because he was so full of renewed confidence and bliss,--"but he is a +handsomer fellow than I am, Dolly, and it must be confessed he has good +taste." + +"Handsomer!" echoed Dolly. "What do I care about his beauty? He is n't +_you_,--that is where he fails to come up to the mark. And as to his +good taste, do you suppose for a second that I could ever admire the +most imposing 'get-up' by Poole, as I love this threadbare coat of +yours, that I have laid my cheek against for the last three years?" And +she bent down all at once and kissed the shabby sleeve. + +"No," she said, looking up the next minute with her eyes as bright +as stars. "We have been _given_ to each other, that is it. It was n't +chance, it was something higher. We needed each other, and a higher +power than Fate bound us together, and it was a power that is n't cruel +enough to separate us now, after all these years have woven our lives in +one chord, and drawn our hearts close, and taught us how to comfort and +bear with each other. I was given to you because I could help to make +your life brighter,--and you were given to me because you could help to +brighten mine, and God will never part us so long as we are true." + +The coat sleeve came into requisition again then, as it often did. Her +enthusiastic burst ended in a gush of heart-full tears, and she hid her +face on the coat sleeve until they were shed; Griffith in the mean time +touching her partly bent head caressingly with his hand, but remaining +silent because he could not trust himself to speak. + +But she became quieter at last, and got over it so far as to look up and +smile. + +"I could n't give up the six-roomed house and the green sofa, Griffith," +she said. "They are like a great many other things,--the more I don't +get them the more I want them. And the long winter evenings we are to +spend together, when you are to read and I am to sew, and we are both to +be blissfully happy. I could n't give those up on any account. And how +could I bear to see Ralph Gowan, or any one else, seated in the orthodox +arm-chair?" + +The very idea of this latter calamity occurring crushed Griffith +completely. The long winter evenings they were to spend together were +such a pleasant legend. Scarcely a day passed without his drawing a +mental picture of the room which was to be their parlor, and of the +fireside Dolly was to adorn. It required only a slight effort of +imagination to picture her shining in the tiny room whose door closed +upon an outside world of struggling and an inside world of love and +hope and trust. He imagined Dolly under a variety of circumstances, +but nothing pleased and touched him so tenderly as this fireside +picture,--its ideal warmth and glow, and its poetic placing of Dolly +as his wife sitting near to him with her smiles and winsome ways +and looks--his own, at last, unshared by any outsiders. Giving that +long-cherished fancy up would have killed him, if he could have borne +all the rest. And while these two experienced the recorded fluctuations +of their romance in private, Ralph Gowan had followed Phil into the +studio. + +They found Mollie there on going into the room; and Mollie lying upon +the sofa asleep, with her brown head upon a big soft purple cushion, +was quite worthy a second glance. She had been rather overpowered in the +parlor by the presence of Ralph Gowan, and, knowing there was a fire +in the studio, and a couch drawn near it, she had retired there, and, +appropriating a pile of cushions, had dropped asleep, and lay there +curled up among them. + +Seeing her, Gowan found himself smiling faintly. Mollie amused him just +as she amused Dolly. It was so difficult a matter to assign her any +settled position in the world; She was taller than the other girls, +and far larger and more statuesque; indeed, there were moments when she +seemed to be almost imposing in presence, but this only rendered her +still more a charming incongruity. She might have carried herself like a +royal princess, but she blushed up to the tips of her ears at a glance, +and was otherwise as innocently awkward as a beauty may be. She was not +fond of strangers either, and generally lapsed into silence when spoken +to. Public admiration only disconcerted her, and made her pout, and the +unceremonious but friendly compliments of Phil's brethren in art were +her special grievance. + +"They stare at me, and stare at me, and stare at me," she complained, +pettishly, to Dolly, "and some of them say things to me. I wish they +would attend to their pictures and leave me alone." + +But she had never evinced any particular dislike to Ralph Gowan. She was +overpowered by a secret sense of his vast superiority to the generality +of mankind, but she rather admired him upon the whole. She liked to hear +him talk to Dolly, and she approved of his style. It was such a novel +sort of thing to meet with a man who was not shabby, and whose clothes +seemed made for him and were worn with a grace. He was handsome, too, +and witty and polite, and his cool, comfortable manner reminded her +vaguely of Dolly's own. So she used to sit and listen to the two as they +chatted, and in the end her guileless admiration of Dolly's eligible +Philistine became pretty thoroughly established. + +When the sound of advancing footsteps roused her from her nap she woke +with great tranquillity, and sat up rubbing her drowsy eyes serenely for +a minute or so before she discovered that Phil had a companion. But when +she did discover that such was the fact she blushed all over, and looked +up at Ralph Gowan in some nave distress. + +"I did n't know any one was coming," she said, "and I was so comfortable +that I fell asleep. It was the cushions, I think." + +"I dare say it was," answered Gowan, regarding her sleep-flushed cheeks +and exquisite eyes with the pleasure he always felt in any beauty, +animate or inanimate. "May I sit here, Mollie?" and then he looked at +her again and decided that he was quite right in speaking to her as he +would have spoken to a child, because she _was_ such a very child. + +"By me, on the sofa?" she answered. "Oh, yes." + +"Are you going to talk business with Phil?" she asked him next, "or may +I stay here? Griffith and Dolly won't want me in the parlor, and I don't +want to go into the kitchen." + +"I have no doubt you may stay here," he said, quite seriously; "but why +won't they want you in the parlor?" + +"They never want anybody," astutely. "I dare say they are making +love,--they generally are." + +"Making love," he repeated. "Ah, indeed!" and for the next few minutes +was so absorbed in thought that Mollie was quite forgotten. + +Making love were they,--this shabby, rather un-amiable young man and the +elder Miss Crewe? It sounded rather like nonsense to Ralph Gowan, but +it was not a pleasant sort of thing to think about. It is not to be +supposed that he himself was very desperately in love with Dolly just +yet, but it must be admitted he admired her decidedly. Beauty as Mollie +was, he scarcely gave her a glance when Dolly was in the room,--he +recognized the beauty, but it did not enslave him, it did not even +attract him as Dolly's imperfect charms did. And perhaps he had his own +ideas of what Dolly's love-making would be, of the spice and variety +which would form its characteristics, and of the little bursts of warmth +and affection that would render it delightful. It was not soothing +to think of all this being lavished on a shabby young man who was +not always urbane in demeanor and who stubbornly objected to being +propitiated by politeness. + +As was very natural, Mr. Ralph Gowan did not admire Mr. Griffith +Donne enthusiastically. In his visits to Bloomsbury Place, finding +an ill-dressed young man whose position in the household he could not +understand, he began by treating him with good-natured suavity, being +ready enough to make friends with him, as he had made friends with the +rest of Phil's compatriots. But influenced by objections to certain +things, Griffith was not to be treated suavely, but rather resented it. +There was no good reason for his resenting it, but resent it he did, +as openly as he could, without being an absolute savage and attracting +attention. The weakness of such a line of conduct is glaringly patent, +of course, to the well-regulated mind; but then Mr. Griffith Donne's +mind was not well-regulated, and he was, on the contrary, a very +hot-headed, undisciplined young man, and exceedingly sensitive to his +own misfortunes and shabbiness, and infatuated in his passion for the +object of his enemy's admiration. But Ralph Gowan could afford to be +tolerant; in the matter of position he was secure, he had never been +slighted or patronized in his life, and so had no shrinkings from such +an ordeal; he was not disturbed by any bitter pang of jealousy as yet, +and so, while he could not understand Griffith's restless anxiety to +resent his presence, could still tolerate it and keep cool. Yet, as +might be expected, he rather underrated his antagonist. Seeing him +only in this one unfavorable light, he regarded him simply as a rather +ill-bred, or, at least, aggressively inclined individual, whose temper +and tone of mind might reasonably be objected to. Once or twice he had +even felt his own blood rise at some implied ignoring of himself; but he +was far the more urbane and well-disposed of the two, yet whether he was +to be highly lauded for his forbearance, or whether, while lauding him, +it would not be as well to think as well as possible of his enemy, is a +matter for charity to decide. + +It had not occurred to him before that Griffith's frequent and +unceremonious visits implied anything very serious. There were so many +free-and-easy visitors at the house, and they all so plainly cultivated +Dolly, if they did not make actual love to her; and really outsiders +would hardly have been impressed with her deportment toward her +betrothed. She was not prone to exhibit her preference sentimentally in +public. So Ralph Gowan had been deceived,--and so he was deceived still. + +"This sort of fellow," as he mentally put it with unconscious +high-handedness, was not the man to make such a woman happy, however +ready she was to bear with him. It was just such men as he was, who, +when the novelty of possession wore off, deteriorated into tyrannical, +irritable husbands, and were not too well bred in their manners. So he +became reflective and silent, when Mollie said that the two were "making +love." + +But at last it occurred to him that even to Mollie his preoccupation +might appear singular, and he roused himself accordingly. + +"Making love!" he said again. "Blissful occupation! I wonder how they do +it. Do you know, Mollie?" + +Mollie looked at him with a freedom from scruples or embarrassment at +the conversation taking such a turn, which told its own story. + +"Yes," she said. "They talk, you know, and say things to each other just +as other people do, and he kisses her sometimes. I know that," with a +decided air, "because I have seen him do it." + +"Cool enough, that, upon my word," was her questioner's mental comment, +"and not unpleasant for Donne; but hardly significant of a fastidious +taste, if it is a public exhibition." "Ah, indeed!" he said, aloud. + +"They have been engaged so long, you know," volunteered Mollie. + +"Singularly enough, I did not know, Mollie," he replied. "Are you sure +yourself?" + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mollie, opening her eyes. "I thought everybody knew +that. They have been engaged ever since they were ever so much younger. +Dolly was only fifteen, and Griffith was only eighteen, when they first +fell in love." + +"And they have been engaged ever since?" said Gowan, his curiosity +getting decidedly the better of him. + +"Yes, and would have been married long ago, if Griffith could have got +into something; or if Old Flynn would have raised his salary. He has +only a hundred a year," with unabashed frankness, "and, of course, they +couldn't be married on that, so they are obliged to wait. A hundred and +fifty would do, Dolly says,--but then, they have n't got a hundred and +fifty." + +Ralph Gowan was meanly conscious of not being overpowered with regret +on hearing this latter statement of facts. And yet he was by no means +devoid of generous impulse. He was quite honest, however deeply he might +be mistaken, in deciding that it would be an unfortunate thing for Dolly +if she married Griffith Donne. He thought he was right, and certainly if +there had been no more good in his rival than he himself had seen on +the surface, he would not have been far wrong; but as it was he was +unconsciously very far wrong indeed. He ran into the almost excusable +extreme of condemning Griffith upon circumstantial evidence. Unfair +advantage had been taken of Dolly, he told himself. She had engaged +herself before she knew her own heart, and was true to her lover because +it was not in her nature to be false. Besides, what right has a man with +a hundred a year to bind any woman to the prospect of the life of narrow +economies and privations such an income would necessarily entail? +And forthwith his admiration of Dolly became touched with pity, +and increased fourfold. _She_ was unselfish, at least, whatever her +affianced might be. Poor little soul! (It is a circumstance worthy of +note, because illustrative of the blindness of human nature, that +at this very moment Miss Dorothea Crewe was enjoying her quiet +_tte--tte_ with her lover wondrously, and would not have changed +places with any young lady in the kingdom upon any consideration +whatever.) + +It is not at all to be wondered at that, in the absence of other +entertainment, Gowan drifted into a confidential chat with Mollie. She +was the sort of girl few people could have remained entirely indifferent +to. Her _navet_ was as novel as her beauty, and her weakness, so to +speak, was her strength. Gowan found it so at least, but still it must +be confessed that Dolly was the chief subject of their conversation. + +"You are very fond of your sister?" he said to the child. + +Mollie nodded. + +"Yes," she said, "I am very fond of her. We are all very fond of her. +Dolly 's the clever one of the family, next to Phil. She is n't afraid +of anybody, and things don't upset her. I wish I was like her. You ought +to see her talk to Lady Augusta, I believe she is the only person in the +world Lady Augusta can't patronize, and she is always trying to snub her +just because she is so cool. But it never troubles Dolly. I have seen +her sit and smile and talk in her quiet way until Lady Augusta could do +nothing but sit still and stare at her as if she was choked, with her +bonnet strings actually trembling." + +Gowan laughed. He could imagine the effect produced so well, and it was +so easy to picture Dolly smiling up in the face of her gaunt patroness, +and all the time favoring her with a shower of beautiful little stabs, +rendered pointed by the very essence of artfulness. He decided that upon +the whole Lady Augusta was somewhat to be pitied. + +"Dolly says," proceeded Mollie, "that she would like to be a beauty; but +if I was like her I should n't care about being a beauty." + +"Ah!" said Gowan, unable to resist the temptation to try with a fine +speech,--"ah! it is all very well for _you_ to talk about not caring to +be a beauty." + +It did not occur to him for an instant that it was indiscreet to say +such a thing to her. He only meant it for a jest, and nine girls out +of ten even at sixteen would have understood his languid air of +grandiloquence in an instant. But Mollie at sixteen was extremely +liberal-minded, and almost Arcadian in her simplicity of thought and +demeanor. + +Her brown eyes flew wide open, and for a minute she stared at him with +mingled amazement and questioning. + +"Me!" she said, ignoring all given rules of propriety of speech. + +"Yes, you," answered Gowan, smiling, and looking down at her amusedly. +"I have been paying you a compliment, Mollie." + +"Oh!" said Mollie, bewilderment settling on her face. But the next +instant the blood rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes fell, and she moved +a little farther away from him. + +It was the first compliment she had received in all her life, and it was +the beginning of an era. + + + +CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + +"We are going," Dolly to Ralph Gowan, "to have a family rejoicing, +and we should like you to join us. We are going to celebrate Mollie's +birthday." + +"Thanks," he answered, "I shall be delighted." He had heard of these +family rejoicings before, and was really pleased with the idea of +attending one of them. They were strictly Vagabondian, which was one +recommendation, and they were entirely free from the Bilberry element, +which was another. They were not grand affairs, it is true, and set +etiquette and the rules of society at open defiance, but they were +cheerful, at least, and nobody attended them who had not previously +resolved upon enjoying himself and taking kindly to even the most +unexpected state of affairs. At Bloomsbury Place, Lady Augusta's "coffee +and conversation" became "conversation and coffee," and the conversation +came as naturally as the coffee. People who had jokes to make made them, +and people who had not were exhilarated by the _bon-mots_ of the rest. + +"Mollie will be seventeen," said Dolly, "and it is rather a trial to +me." + +Gowan laughed. + +"Why?" he asked. + +She shook her head gravely. + +"In the first place," she answered, "it makes me feel as if the dust of +ages was accumulating in my pathway, and in the second, it is not safe +for her." + +"Why, again?" he demanded. + +"She is far too pretty, and her knowledge of the world is far too +limited. She secretly believes in Lord Burleigh, and clings to the +poetic memory of King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid." + +"And you do not?" + +She held up her small forefinger and shook it at him. + +"If ever there was an artful little minx," she said, "that Beggar-maid +was one. I never believed in her. I doubted her before I was twelve. +With her eyes cast down and her sly tricks! She did not cast them down +for nothing. She did it because she had long eyelashes, and it was +becoming. And it is my impression she knew more about the king than +she professed to. She had studied his character and found it weak. +Beggar-maid me no beggar-maids! She was as deep as she was handsome." + +Of course he laughed again. Her air of severe worldly experience and +that small warning forefinger were irresistible. + +"But Mollie," he said, "with all her belief in Cophetua, you think there +is not enough of the beggar-maid element in her character to sustain her +under like circumstances?" + +"If she met a Cophetua," she answered, "she would open her great eyes +at his royal purple in positive delight, and if he caught her looking +at him she would blush furiously and pout a little, and be so ashamed of +her weakness that she would be ready to run away; but if he was artful +enough to manage her aright, she would believe every word he said, and +romance about him until her head was turned upside down. My fear is that +some false Cophetua will masquerade for her benefit some day. She would +never doubt his veracity, and if he asked her to run away with him I +believe she would enjoy the idea. We shall have to keep sharp watch upon +her." + +"You never were so troubled about Aime?" Gowan suggested. + +"Aime!" she exclaimed. "Aime has kept us all in order, and managed +our affairs for us ever since she wore Berlin wool boots and a coral +necklace. She regulated the household in her earliest years, and will +regulate it until she dies or somebody marries her, and what we are +to do then our lares and pnates only know. Aime! Nobody ever had any +trouble with Aime, and nobody ever will. Mollie is more like me, +you see,--shares my weaknesses and minor sins, and always sees her +indiscretions ten minutes too late for redemption. And then, since she +is the youngest, and has been the baby so long, we have not been in the +habit of regarding her as a responsible being exactly. It has struck +me once or twice that Bloomsbury Place hardly afforded wise training +to Mollie. Poor little soul!" And a faint shadow fell upon her face and +rested there for a moment. + +But it faded out again as her fits of gravity usually did, and in a +few minutes she was giving him such a description of Lady Augusta's +unexpected appearance upon a like occasion in time past, that he laughed +until the room echoed, and forgot everything else but the audacious +grotesqueness of her mimicry. + +It being agreed upon that Mollie's birthday was to be celebrated, +the whole household was plunged into preparations at once, though, of +course, they were preparations upon a small scale and of a strictly +private and domestic nature. Belinda, being promptly attacked with +inflammation of the throat, which was a chronic weakness of hers, was +rather inconveniently, but not at all to the surprise of her employers, +incapacitated from service, and accordingly Dolly's duties became varied +and multitudinous. + +Sudden inflammation on the part of Belinda was so unavoidable a +consequence of any approaching demand upon her services as to have +become proverbial, and the swelling of that young person's "tornsuls," +as she termed them, was anticipated as might be anticipated the rising +of the sun. Not that it was Belinda's fault, however; Belinda's anxiety +to be useful amounted at all times to something very nearly approaching +a monomania; the fact simply was, that, her ailment being chronic, it +usually evinced itself at inopportune periods. "It's the luck of the +family," said Phil. "We never loved a tree or flower, etc." + +And so Belinda was accepted as an unavoidable inconvenience, and was +borne with cheerfully, accordingly. + +It was not expected of her that she should appear otherwise on the +eventful day than with the regulation roll of flannel about her neck. +Dolly did not expect it of her at least, so she was not surprised, on +entering the kitchen in the morning, to be accosted by her grimy young +handmaiden in the usual form of announcement:-- + +"Which, if yer please, miss, my tornsuls is swole most awful." + +"Are they?" said Dolly. "Well, I am very sorry, Belinda. It can't be +helped, though; Mollie will have to run the errands and answer the +door-bell, and you must stay with me and keep out of the draught. +You can help a little, I dare say, if you are obliged to stay in the +kitchen." + +"Yes, 'm," said Belinda, and then sidling up to the dresser, and rubbing +her nose in an abasement of spirit, which resulted in divers startling +adornments of that already rather highly ornamented feature. "If yer +please, 'm," she said, "I 'm very sorry, Miss Dolly. Seems like I ain't +never o' no use to yer?" + +"Yes, you are," said Dolly, cheerily, "and you can't help the sore +throat, you know. You are a great deal of use to me sometimes. See how +you save my hands from being spoiled; they would n't be as white as they +are if I had to polish the grates and build the fires. Never mind, you +will be better in a day or so. Now for the cookery-book." + +"I never seen no one like her," muttered the delighted Sepoy, returning +to her vigorous cleaning of kettles and pans. "I never seen no one like +none on 'em, they 're that there good-natured an' easy on folk." + +It was a busy day for Dolly, as well as for the rest of them, and there +was a by no means unpleasant excitement in the atmosphere of business. +The cookery, too, was a success, the game pts being a triumph, the +tarts beautiful to behold, and the rest of the culinary experiments so +marvellous, that Griffith, arriving early in the morning, and being +led down into the pantry to look at them as a preliminary ceremony, +professed to be struck dumb with admiration. + +"There," said Dolly, backing up against the wall in her excitement, and +thrusting her hands very far into her apron pockets indeed,--"there! +what do you think of _that_, sir?" And she stood before him in a perfect +glow of triumph, her cheeks like roses, her sleeves rolled above +her dimpled elbows, her hair pushed on her forehead, and her general +appearance so deliciously business-like and agreeably professional +that the dusts of flour that were so prominent a feature in her costume +seemed only an additional charm. + +"Think of it?" said Griffith. "It is the most imposing display I ever +saw in my life. The trimmings upon those tarts are positively artistic. +You don't mean to say you did it all yourself?" + +"Yes," regarding them critically,--"ev-er-y bit," with a little nod for +every syllable. + +"Won-der-ful!" with an air of complimentary incredulity. "May I ask if +there is anything you can _not_ do?" + +"There is absolutely nothing," sententiously. And then somehow or other +they were standing close together, as usual, his arm around her waist, +her hands clasped upon his sleeve. "When we get the house in Putney, or +Bayswater, or Peckham Eise, or whatever it is to be," she said, laughing +in her most coaxing way, "this sort of thing will be convenient. And it +_is_ to come, you know,--the house, I mean." + +"Yes," admitted Griffith, with dubious cheerfulness, "it _is_ to +come,--some time or other." + +But her cheerfulness was not of a dubious kind at all. She only laughed +again, and patted his arm with a charming air of proprietorship. + +"I have got something else to show you," she said; "something up-stairs. +Can you guess what it is? Something for Mollie,--something she wanted +which is dreadfully extravagant." + +"What!" exclaimed Griffith. "Not the maroon silk affair!" + +"Yes," her doubt as to the wisdom of her course expressing itself in +a whimsical little grimace. "I could n't help it. It will make her so +happy; and I should so have liked it myself if I had been in her place." + +She had been going to lead him up-stairs to show it to him as it lay in +state, locked up in the parlor, but all at once she changed her mind. + +"No," she said; "I think you had better not see it until Mollie comes +down in state. It will look best then; so I won't spoil the effect by +letting you see it now." + +Griffith had brought his offering, too,--not much of an offering, +perhaps, but worth a good deal when valued according to the affectionate +good-will it represented. "The girls" had a very warm corner in the +young man's tender heart, and the half-dozen pairs of gloves he produced +from the shades of an inconvenient pocket of his great-coat, held their +own modest significance. + +"Gloves," he said, half apologetically, "always come in; and I believe I +heard Mollie complaining of hers the other day." + +Certainly they were appreciated by the young lady in question, their +timely appearance disposing of a slight difficulty of addition to her +toilet. + +The maroon silk was to be a surprise; and surely, if ever surprise was a +success, this was. Taking into consideration the fact that she had spent +the earlier part of the day in plaintive efforts to remodel a dubious +garment into a form fitting to grace the occasion, it is not to be +wondered at that the sudden realization of one of her most hopelessly +vivid imaginings rather destroyed the perfect balance of her +equilibrium. + +She had almost completed her toilet when Dolly produced her treasure; +nothing, in fact, remained to be done but to don the dubious garment, +when Dolly, slipping out of the room, returned almost immediately with +something on her arm. + +"Never mind your old alpaca, Mollie," she said. "I have something better +for you here." + +Mollie turned round in some wonder to see what she meant, and the next +minute she turned red and pale with admiring amazement. + +"Dolly," she said, rather unnecessarily, "it's a maroon silk." And she +sat down with her hands clasped, and stared at it in the intensity of +her wonder. + +"Yes," said Dolly, "it is a maroon silk, and you are to wear it +to-night. It is Phil's birthday present to you,--and mine." + +The spell was broken at once. The girl got up and made an impulsive +rush at her, and, flinging her bare white arms out, caught her in a +tempestuous embrace, maroon silk and all, laughing and crying both +together. + +"Dolly," she said,--"Dolly, it is the grandest thing I ever had in my +life, and you are the best two--you and Phil--that ever lived!" And not +being as eloquent by nature as she was grateful and affectionate, she +poured out the rest of her thanks in kisses and interjections. + +Then Dolly, extricating herself, proceeded to add the final touches +to the unfinished toilet, and in a very few minutes Miss Mollie stood +before the glass regarding herself in such ecstatic content as she had +perhaps never before experienced. + +"Who is going to be here, Dolly?" she asked, after taking her first +survey. + +"Who?" said Dolly. "Well, I scarcely know. Only one or two of Phil's +friends and Ralph Gowan." + +Mollie gave a little start, and then blushed in the most pathetically +helpless way. + +"Ah!" she said, and looked at her reflection in the glass again, as if +she did not exactly know what else to do. + +A swift shadow of surprise showed itself in Dolly's eyes, and died out +almost at the same moment. + +"Are you ready?" she said, briefly. "If you are, we will go +down-stairs." + +There was a simultaneous cry of admiration from them all when the two +entered the parlor below, and Miss Mollie appeared attired in all her +glory. + +"Here she is!" exclaimed 'Toinett and Aime, together. + +"Just the right shade," was Phil's immediate comment. "Catches the +lights and throws out her coloring so finely. Turn round, Mollie." + +And Mollie turned round obediently, a trifle abashed by her own +gorgeousness, and looking all the lovelier for her momentary abasement. + +Griffith was delighted. He went to her and kissed her, and praised her +with the enthusiastic frankness which characterized all his proceedings +with regard to the different members of the family of his betrothed. He +was as proud of the girl's beauty as if she were a sister of his own. + +Then the object of their mutual admiration knelt down upon the +hearth-rug, before Tod, who, attired in ephemeral splendor, had stopped +in his tour across the room to stare up with bright baby wonder at the +novelty of warm, rich color which had caught his fancy. + +"I must kiss Tod," she said; no ceremony was ever considered complete, +and no occasion perfect, unless Tod had been kissed, and so taken into +the general confidence. "Tod, come and be kissed." + +But, being a young gentleman of by no means effusive nature, Tod +preferred to remain stationary, holding to the toe of his red shoe +and gazing upward with an expression of approbation and indifference +commingled, which delighted his feminine admirers beyond expression. + +"He knows it is something new," said 'Toinette. "See how he looks at +it." Whereupon, of course, there was a chorus of delighted acquiescence, +and Aunt Dolly must needs go down upon the hearthrug, too. + +"Has Aunt Mollie got a grand new dress on, Beauty?" she said, glowing +with such pretty, womanly adoration of this atom of all-ruling baby-dom, +as made her seem the very cream and essence of lovableness and sweet +nonsense. And then, Master Tod, still remaining unmoved by adulation, +and still regarding his small circle of tender sycophants with round, +liquid, baby eyes serene, and dewy red lips apart, was so effective +in this one of his many entrancing moods, that he was no longer to be +resisted, and so was caught up and embraced with ecstasy. + +"He notices everything," cries Aunt Dolly; "and I 'm sure he understands +every word he hears. He is _so_ different from other babies." + +Different! Of course he was different. There was not one of them but +indignantly scouted at the idea of there ever having before existed such +a combination of infantile gifts and graces. The most obtuse of people +could not fail to acknowledge his vast superiority, in spite of their +obtuseness. + +"But," remarked Aime, with discretion, "you had better stand up, +Mollie, or you will crush your front breadths." + +Mollie, with a saving recollection of front breadths, arose, and as it +chanced just in time to turn toward the door as Ralph Gowan came in. + +He was looking his best to-night,--that enviable, thorough-bred best, +which was the natural result of culture, money, and ease; and Dolly, +catching sight of Mollie's guileless blushes, deplored, while she did +not wonder at them, understanding her as she did. It was just like the +child to blush, feeling herself the centre of observation, but she +could not help wishing that her blush had not been quite so quick and +sensitive. + +But if she had flushed when he entered, she flushed far more when he +came to speak to her. He held in his hand a bouquet of flowers,--white +camellia buds and bloom, and dark, shadowy green; a whim of his own, he +said. + +"I heard about the maroon dress," he added, when he had given it to her, +"and my choice of your flowers was guided accordingly. White camellias, +worn with maroon sik, are artistic, Mollie, your brother will tell you." + +"They are very pretty," said Mollie, looking down at them in grateful +confusion; "and I am much obliged. Thank you, Mr. Gowan." + +"A great many good wishes go with them," he said, good-naturedly. "If +I were an enchanter, you should never grow any older from this day +forward." And his speech was something more than an idle compliment. +There was something touching to him, too, in the fact of the child's +leaving her childhood behind her, and confronting so ignorantly +the unconscious dawn of a womanhood which might hold so much of the +bitterness of knowledge. + +But, of course, Mollie did not understand this. + +"Why?" she asked him, forgetting her camellias, in her wonder at his +fancy. + +"Why?" said he. "Because seventeen is such a charming age, Mollie; and +it would be well for so many of us if we did not outlive its faith and +freshness." + +He crossed over to Dolly then, and made his well-turned speech of +friendly greeting to her also, but his most ordinary speech to her had +its own subtle warmth. He was growing very fond of Dolly Crewe. But +Dolly was a trifle preoccupied; she was looking almost anxiously at +Mollie and the camellias. + +"He has been paying her a compliment or she would not look so fluttered +and happy," she was saying to herself. "I wish he wouldn't. It may +please him, but it is dangerous work for Mollie." + +And when she raised her eyes to meet Ralph Gowan's, he saw that there +was the ghost of a regretful shadow in them. + +She had too much to do, however, to be troubled long. Phil's friends +began to drop in, one by one, and the business of the evening occupied +her attention. There was coffee to be handed round, and she stood at +a side-table and poured it out herself into quaint cups of old china, +which were a relic of former grandeur; and as she moved to and fro, +bringing one of these cups to one, or a plate of fantastic little cakes +to another, and flavoring the whole repast with her running fire of +spicy speeches, Gowan found himself following her with his eyes and +rather extravagantly comparing her to ambrosia-bearing Hebe, at the same +time thinking that in Vagabondia these tilings were better done than +elsewhere. + +The most _outr_ of Phil's hirsute and carelessly garbed +fellow-Bohemians somehow or other seemed neither vulgar nor ill at ease. +They evidently felt at home, and admired faithfully and with complete +unison the feminine members of their friend's family; and their +readiness to catch at the bright or grotesque side of any situation +evinced itself in a manner worthy of imitation. Then, too, there was +Tod, taking excursionary rambles about the carpet, and, far from being +in the way, rendering himself an innocent centre of attraction. Brown +cracked jokes with him, Jones bribed him with cake to the performance +of before-unheard-of feats, and one muscular, fiercely mustached and +bearded young man, whose artistic forte was battle-pieces of the most +sanguinary description, appropriated him bodily and set him on his +shoulder, greatly to the detriment of his paper collar. + +"The spirit of Vagabondia is strong in Tod," said Dolly, who at the time +was standing near Gowan upon the hearth-rug, with her own coffee-cup in +hand; "its manifestation being his readiness to accommodate himself to +circumstances." + +Through the whole of the evening Mollie and the camellias shone forth +with resplendence. Those of Phil's masculine friends who had known her +since her babyhood felt instinctively that to-night the Rubicon had +been passed. Unconscious as she was of herself, she was imposing in the +maroon silk, and these free-and-easy, good-natured fellows were the very +men to be keenly alive to any subtle power of womanhood. So when they +addressed her their manner was a trifle subdued, and their deportment +toward her had a faint savor of delicate reverence. + +Dolly was in her element. Her songs, her little supper, and her plans +of entertainment were a perfect success. Such jokes as she made and such +laughter as she managed to elicit through the medium of the smallest +of them, and such aptness and tact as she displayed in keeping up +the general fusillade of _bon-mots_ and repartee. It would have been +impossible for a witticism to fall short of its mark under her active +superintendence, even if witticisms had been prone to fall short in +Vagabondia, which they decidedly were not. She kept Griffith busy, too, +from first to last, perhaps because she felt it to be the safest plan; +at any rate, she held him near her, and managed to keep him in the best +of spirits all the evening, and more than once Gowan, catching a +glimpse of her as she addressed some simple remark to the favored one, +recognized a certain bright softness in her face which told its own +story. But there would have been little use in openly displaying his +discomfiture; so, after feeling irritated for a moment or so, Ralph +Gowan allowed himself to drift into attendance on Mollie, and, being +almost gratefully received by that young lady, he did not find that the +time passed slowly. + +"I am so glad you came here." she said to him, plaintively, when he +first crossed the room to her side. "I do so hate Brown." + +"Brown!" he echoed. "Who _is_ Brown, Mollie? and what has Brown been +doing to incur your resentment?" + +Mollie gave her shoulders a petulant shrug. + +"Brown is that little man in the big coat," she said, "the one who went +away when you came. I wish he would stay away. I can't bear him," with +delightful candor. + +"But why?" persisted Gowan, casting a glance at the side of the room +where Dolly stood talking to her lover. "Is it because his coat is so +big, or because he is so little, that he is so objectionable? To be at +once moral and instructive, Mollie, a man is not to be judged by his +coat." + +"I know that," returned Mollie, her unconscious innocence asserting +itself; "it is n't that. _You_ couldn't be as disagreeable as he is if +you were dressed in rags." + +Gowan turned quickly to look at her, forgetting even Dolly for the +instant,--but she was quite in earnest, and met his questioning eyes +with the most pathetic ignorance of having said anything extraordinary. +Indeed, her faith in what she had said was so patent that he found it +impossible to answer her with a light or jesting speech. + +"It is n't that," she went on, pulling at a glossy green leaf on her +bouquet. "If he did n't--if he would n't--if he didn't keep saying +things--" + +"What sort of things?" asked Gowan, to help her out of her dilemma. + +"I--don't know," was the shy reply. "Stupid things." + +"Stupid things!" he repeated. "Poor Brown!" and his eyes wandered to +Dolly again. + +But it would not have been natural if he had not been attracted by +Mollie, after all, and in the course of time in a measure consoled +by her. She was so glad to be protected from the advances of the much +despised Brown, that he found it rather pleasant than otherwise to +constitute himself her body-guard,--to talk to her as they sat, and +to be her partner in the stray dances which accidentally enlivened the +evening entertainment. She danced well, too, he discovered, and with +such evident enjoyment of her own smooth, swaying movements as was quite +magnetic, and made him half reluctant to release her when their first +waltz was ended, and she stopped all aflush with new bloom. + +"I am _so_ fond of dancing," she said, catching her breath in a little +sigh of ecstasy. "We all are. It is one of the things we _can_ do +without spending any money, you know." + +It was shortly after this, just as they were standing in twos and +threes, chatting and refreshing themselves with Dolly's confections +and iced lemonade, that an entirely unexpected advent occurred. There +suddenly fell upon the general ear a sound as of rolling wheels, and a +carriage stopped before the door. + +Dolly, standing in the midst of a small circle of her own, paused in her +remarks to listen. + +"It is a carriage, that is certain," she said,--"and somebody is getting +out. I don't know "--and then a light breaking over her face in a +flash of horror and delight in the situation commingled. "Phil," she +exclaimed, "the Philistines be upon us,--it is Lady Augusta!" + +And it was. In two minutes that majestic lady was ushered in by the +excited Belinda, and announced in the following rather remarkable +manner,-- + +"If yer please, Miss Dolly, here's your aunt, Mr. Phil." + +For a second her ladyship was speechless, even though Dolly advanced to +meet her at once. The festive gathering was too much for her, and the +sight of Ralph Gowan leaning over Mollie in all her bravery, holding +her flowers for her, and appearing so evidently at home, overpowered her +completely. But she recovered herself at length. + +"I was not aware," she said to Dolly, "that you were having a"--pause +for a word sufficiently significant--"that you were holding a +reception,"--a scathing glance at the pensive Brown, who was at once +annihilated. "You will possibly excuse my involuntary intrusion. I +thought, of _course_" (emphasis), "that I should find you alone, and +as I had something to say to you concerning Euphemia, I decided to +call tonight on my way from the conversazione at Dr. Bugby's,--perhaps, +Dorothea, your friends" (emphasis again) "will excuse you for a moment, +and you will take me into another room,"--this last as if she had +suddenly found herself in a fever hospital and was rather afraid of +contagion. + +But apart from Mollie, who pouted and flushed, and was extremely +uncomfortable, nobody seemed to be either chilled or overwhelmed. Phil's +greeting was so cordial and unmoved that her ladyship could only proffer +him the tips of her fingers in imposing silence, and Dolly's air +of placid good-humor was so perfect that it was as good as a modest +theatrical entertainment. + +She led her visitor out of the room with a most untroubled countenance, +after her ladyship had honored Gowan with a word or so, kindly +signifying her intense surprise at meeting him in the house, and rather +intimating, delicately, that she could not comprehend his extraordinary +conduct, and hoped he would not live to regret it. + +The interview was not a long one, however. In about ten minutes the +carriage rolled away, and Dolly came back to the parlor with a touch of +new color on her cheek, and a dying-out spark of fire in her eye; and +though her spirits did not seem to have failed her, she was certainly a +trifle moved by something. + +"Let us have another waltz." she said, rather as if she wished to +dismiss Lady Augusta from the carpet "I will play this time. Phil, find +a partner." + +She sat down to the piano at once, and swept off into one of Phil's +own compositions, and from that time till the end of the evening she +scarcely gave them a moment's pause, and was herself so full of sparkle +and resources that she quite enraptured Gowan, and made the shabby room +and the queer life seem more novel and entrancing than ever. + +But when the guests were gone, and only Griffith, who was always last, +remained with Phil and the girls, grouped about the fire, the light died +out of her mood, and she looked just a trifle anxious and tired. + +"Girls," she said, "I have some bad news to tell you,--at least some +news that isn't exactly good. Lady Augusta has given me what Belinda +would call 'a warning.' I visit the select precincts of Bilberry House +as governess no more." + +There is no denying it was a blow to them all. Her salary had been +a very necessary part of the family income, and if they had been +straitened with it, certainly there would be a struggle without it. + +"Oh!" cried Mollie, remorsefully. "And you have just spent nearly all +you had on my dress. And you do so want things yourself, Dolly. What +shall you do?" + +"Begin to take in the daily papers and peruse the advertising column," +she answered, courageously. "Never mind, it will all come right before +long, and we can keep up our spirits until then." + +But, despite her assumed good spirits, when she went to see Griffith +out of the front door, she held to his arm with a significantly clinging +touch, and was so silent for a moment that he stooped in the dark to +kiss her, and found her cheek wet with tears. + +It quite upset him, too, poor fellow! Dolly crying and daunted was a +state of affairs fraught with anguish to him. + +"Why, Dolly!" he exclaimed, tremulously. "Dolly, you are crying!" + +And then she did give way, and for a minute or so quite needed the +shelter and rest of his arms. She cared for no other shelter or rest; +he was quite enough for her in her brightest or darkest day,--just +this impecunious young man, whose prospects were so limited, but whose +affection for her was so wholly without limit. She might be daunted, +but she could not remain long uncomforted while her love and trust were +still unchanged. Ah! there was a vast amount of magic in the simple, +silent pressure of the arm within that shabby coat-sleeve. + +So, as might be expected, she managed to recover herself before many +minutes, and receive his tender condolences with renewed spirit; and +when she bade him good-night she was almost herself again, and was +laughing, even though her eyelashes were wet. + +"No," she said, "we are _not_ going to destruction, Lady Augusta to the +contrary, and the family luck must assert itself some time, since it has +kept itself so long in the background. And in the mean time--well," with +a little parting wave of her hand, "Vagabondia to the rescue!" + + + +CHAPTER VI. ~ "WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON." + +THEEE was much diligent searching of the advertising columns of the +daily papers for several weeks after this. Advertisements, in fact, +became the staple literature, and Dolly's zeal in the perusal of them +was only to be equalled by her readiness to snatch at the opportunities +they presented. No weather was too grewsome for her to confront, and no +representation too unpromising for her to be allured by. In the morning +she was at Bayswater calling upon the chilling mother of six (four +of them boys) whose moral nature needed judicious attention, and who +required to be taught the rudiments of French, German, and Latin; in the +afternoon she was at the general post-office applying to Q. Y. Z., who +had the education of two interesting orphans to negotiate for, and who +was naturally desirous of doing it as economically as possible; and at +night she was at home, writing modest, business-like epistles to every +letter in the alphabet in every conceivable or inconceivable part of the +country. + +"If I had only been born 'a stout youth,' or 'a likely young man,' or +'a respectable middle-aged person,' I should have been 'wanted' a dozen +times a day," she would remark; "but as it is, I suppose I I must wait +until something 'presents itself,' as the Rev. Marmaduke puts it." + +And in defiance of various discouraging and dispiriting influences, she +waited with a tolerable degree of tranquillity until, in the course of +time, her patience was rewarded. Sitting by the fire one morning with +Tod and a newspaper, her eye was caught by an advertisement which, +though it did not hold out any extra inducements, still attracted her +attention, so she read it aloud to Aime and 'Toinette. + +"Wanted, a young person to act as companion to an elderly lady. Apply at +the printers." + +"There, Aime," she commented, "there is another. I suppose I might +call myself 'a young person,' Don't you think I had better 'apply at the +printer's'?" + +"They don't mention terms," said Aime. + +"You would have to leave home," said 'Toinette. + +Dolly folded up the paper and tossed it on to the table with a half +sigh. She had thought of that the moment she read the paragraph, and +then, very naturally, she had thought of Griffith. It would not be +feasible to include him in her arrangements, even if she made any. +Elderly ladies who engage "young persons" as companions were not in +the habit of taking kindly to miscellaneous young men, consequently the +prospect was not a very bright one. + +There would only be letter-writing left to them, and letters seemed such +cold comfort contrasted with every-day meetings. She remembered, too, +a certain six months she had spent with her Bilberry charges in +Switzerland, when Griffith had nearly been driven frantic by her absence +and his restless dissatisfaction, and when their letters had only seemed +new aids to troublous though unintentional games at cross-purposes. +There might be just the same thing to undergo again, but, then, how +was it to be avoided? It was impossible to remain idle just at this +juncture. + +"So it cannot be helped," she said, aloud. "I must take it if I can +get it, and I must stay in it until I can find something more pleasant, +though I cannot help wishing that matters did not look so unpromising. +Tod, you will have to go down, Aunt Dolly is going to put on her hat and +present herself at the printer's in the character of a young person in +search of an elderly lady." + +Delays were dangerous, she had been taught by experience, so she ran +up-stairs at once for her out-door attire, and came down in a few +minutes, drawing on her gloves and looking a trifle ruefully at them. + +"They are getting discouragingly white at the seams," she said, "and it +seems almost impossible to keep them sewed up. I shall have to borrow +Aime's muff. What a blessing it is that the weather is so cold!" + +At the bottom of the staircase she met Mollie. + +"Phemie is in the parlor, Dolly," she announced, "and she wants to see +you. I don't believe Lady Augusta knows she is here, either, she looks +so dreadfully fluttered." + +And when she entered the room, surely enough Phemie jumped up with a +nervous bound from a chair immediately behind the door, and, dropping +her muff and umbrella and two or three other small articles, caught her +in a tremulous embrace, and at once proceeded to bedew her with tears. + +"Oh, Dolly!" she lamented, pathetically; "I have come to say good-by; +and, oh! what shall I do without you?" + +"Good-by!" said Dolly. "Why, Phemie?" + +"Switzerland!" sobbed Phemie. "The--the select seminary at Geneva, +Dolly, where th-that professor of m-music with the lumpy face was." + +"Dear me!" Dolly ejaculated. "You don't mean to say you are going there, +Phemie?" + +"Yes, I do," answered Euphemia. "Next week, too. And, oh dear, Dolly!" +trying to recover her handkerchief, "if it had been anywhere else +I could have borne it, but that," resignedly, "was the reason mamma +settled on it. She found out how I _loathed_ the very thought of it, +and then she decided immediately. And don't you remember those mournful +girls, Dolly, who used to walk out like a funeral procession, and how +we used to make fun--at least, how you used to make fun of the lady +principal's best bonnet?" + +It will be observed by this that Miss Dorothea Crewe's intercourse with +her pupils had not been as strictly in accordance with her position as +instructress as it had been friendly. She had even gone so far as to set +decorum at defiance, by being at once entertaining and jocular, though +to her credit it must be said that she had worked hard enough for +her modest salary, and had not neglected even the most trivial of her +numerous duties. + +She began to console poor Euphemia to the best of her ability, but +Euphemia refused to be comforted. + +"I shall have to take lessons from that lumpy professor, Dolly," she +said. "And you know how I used to hate him when he _would_ make love to +you. And that was mamma's fault, too, because she would patronize him +and call him 'a worthy person.' He was the only man who admired you I +ever knew her to encourage, and she would n't have encouraged him if he +had n't been so detestable." + +It was very evident that the eldest Miss Bilberry was in a highly +rebellious and desperate state of mind. Dolly's daily visits, +educational though they were, had been the brightest gleams of sunlight +in her sternly regulated existence. No one had ever dared to joke in the +Bilberry mansion but Dolly, and no one but Dolly, had ever made the clan +gatherings bearable to Euphemia; and now that Dolly was cut off +from them all, and there were to be no more jokes and no more small +adventures, life seemed a desert indeed. And then with the calamitous +prospect of Switzerland and the lumpy professor before her, Phemie was +crushed indeed. + +"Mamma doesn't know I came," she confessed, tearfully, at last; "but +I could n't help it, Dolly, I could n't go away without asking you to +write to me and to let me write to you. You will write to me, won't +you?" + +Dolly promised at once, feeling a trifle affected herself. She had +always been fond of Phemie, and inclined to sympathize with her, and now +she exerted herself to her utmost to cheer her. She persuaded her to +sit down, and after picking up the muff and umbrella and parcels, took +a seat by her, and managed to induce her to dry her tears and enter into +particulars. + +"It will never do for Lady Augusta to see that you have been crying," +she said. "Dry your eyes, and tell me all about it, and--wait a minute, +I have a box of chocolates here, and I know you like chocolates." + +It was a childish consolation, perhaps, but Dolly knew what she +was doing and whom she was dealing with, and this comforting with +confections was not without its kindly girlish tact. Chocolates were one +of Phemie's numerous school-girl weaknesses, and a weakness so rarely +indulged in that she perceptibly brightened when her friend produced the +gay-colored, much-gilded box. And thus stimulated, she poured forth her +sorrows with more coherence and calmness. She was to go to Switzerland, +that was settled, and the others were to be placed in various other +highly select educational establishments. They were becoming too old +now, Lady Augusta had decided, to remain under Dolly's care. + +"And then," added Euphemia, half timidly, "you won't be vexed if I tell +you, will you?" + +"Certainly not," answered Dolly, who knew very well what was coming, +though poor Phemie evidently thought she was going to impart an +extremely novel and unexpected piece of intelligence. "What is it, +Phemie?" + +"Well, somehow or other, I don't believe mamma exactly likes you, +Dolly." + +Now, considering circumstances, this innocent speech amounted to a rich +sort of thing to say, but Dolly did not laugh; she might caricature Lady +Augusta for the benefit of her own select circle of friends, but she +never made jokes about her before Phemie, however sorely she might be +tempted. So, now she helped herself to a chocolate with perfect sobriety +of demeanor. + +"Perhaps not," she admitted. "I have thought so myself, Phemie." And +then, as soon as possible, changed the subject. + +At length Phemie rose to go. As Lady Augusta was under the impression +that she was merely taking the dismal daily constitutional, which was +one of her unavoidable penances, it would not do to stay too long. + +"So I _must_ go," lamented Phemie; "but, Dolly, if you would n't mind, I +should _so_ like to see the baby. I have never seen him since the day we +called with mamma,--and I am so fond of babies, and he was so pretty." + +Dolly laughed, in spite of herself. She remembered the visit so well, +and Lady Augusta's loftily resigned air of discovering, in the passively +degenerate new arrival, the culminating point of the family depravity. + +"It is much to be regretted," she had said, disapprovingly; "but it is +exactly what I foresaw from the first, and you will have to make the +best of it." + +And then, on Dolly's modestly suggesting that they intended to do so, +and were not altogether borne down to the earth by the heavy nature of +their calamity, she had openly shuddered. + +But Phemie had quite clung to the small bundle of lawn and flannel, and +though she had never seen Tod since, she had by no means forgotten him. + +"He will be quite a big boy when I come back," she added. "And I should +so like to see him once again while he is a baby." + +"Oh, you shall see him," said Dolly. "Tod is the one individual in this +house who always feels himself prepared to receive visitors. He is n't +fastidious about his personal appearance. If you will come into the next +room, I dare say we shall find him." + +And they did find him. Being desirous of employing, to the greatest +advantage, the time spent in his retirement within the bosom of his +family, he was concentrating his energies upon the mastication of the +toe of his slipper, upon which task he was bestowing the strictest and +most undivided attention, as he sat in the centre of the hearth-rug. + +"He has got another tooth, Aunt Dolly," announced 'Toinette, +triumphantly, as soon as the greetings were over. "Show Aunt Dolly his +tooth." And, being laid upon his back on the maternal knee, in the most +uncomfortable and objectionable of positions, the tooth was exhibited, +as a matter calling forth public rejoicings. + +Phemie knelt on the carpet before him, the humblest of his devotees. + +"He is prettier than ever," she said. "Do you think he would come to me, +Mrs. Crewe?" + +And, though the object of her admiration at once asserted his +prerogatives by openly rejecting her overtures with scorn, she rejoiced +over him as ecstatically as if he had shown himself the most amiable of +infant prodigies, which he most emphatically had not, probably having +been rendered irascible by the rash and inconsiderately displayed +interest in his dental developments. Whatever more exacting people might +have thought, Phemie was quite satisfied. + +"I wish I was in your place, Dolly," she said, as she was going away. +"You seem so happy together here, somehow or other. Oh, dear! You don't +know how dreadful our house seems by contrast. If things _would_ break +or upset, or look a little untidy,--or if mamma's caps and dresses just +would n't look so solid and heavy--" + +"Ah!" laughed Dolly, "you have n't seen our worst side, Phemie,--the +shabby side, which means worn shoes and old dresses and bills. We don't +get our whistle for nothing in Vagabondia, though, to be sure,"--and +I won't say a memory of the shabby coat-sleeve did not suggest the +amendment,--"I don't think we pay too dearly for it; and I believe there +is not one of us who would not rather pay for it than live without it." + +And when she gave the girl her farewell kiss, it was a very warm one, +with a touch of pity in it. It was impossible for her to help feeling +sympathy for any one who was without the Griffith element in existence. + +After this she went out herself to apply at the printer's, and was sent +from there to Brabazon Lodge, which was a suburban establishment, in a +chilly aristocratic quarter. An imposing edifice, Brabazon Lodge, built +of stone, and most uncompromisingly devoid of superfluous ornament. +No mock minarets or unstable towers at Brabazon Lodge,--a substantial +mansion in a substantial garden behind substantial iron gates, and so +solid in its appointments that it was quite a task for Dolly to raise +the substantial lion's head which formed the front-door knocker. + +"Wanted, a young person," she was saying to herself, meekly, when her +summons was answered by a man-servant, and she barely escaped announcing +herself as "the young person, sir." + +Once inside the house, she was not kept waiting. She was ushered into a +well-appointed side-room, where a bright fire burned in the grate. The +man retired to make known her arrival to his mistress, and Dolly settled +herself in a chair by the hearth. + +"I wonder how many 'young persons' have been sent away sorrowing this +morning," she said, "and I wonder how Griffith will like the idea of my +filling the position of companion to an elderly lady, or any other order +of lady, for the matter of that? Poor old fellow!" and she gave vent to +an unmistakable sigh. + +But the appearance of the elderly lady put an end to her regrets. The +door opened and she entered, and Dolly rose to receive her. The next +instant, however, she gave a little start. She had seen the elderly lady +before, and confronting her now recognized her at once,--Miss Berenice +MacDowlas. And that Miss MacDowlas recognized her also was quite +evident, for she advanced with the air of one who was not at all at a +loss. + +"How do you do?" she remarked, succinctly, and gave Dolly her hand. + +That young person took it modestly. + +"I believe I have had the pleasure--" she was beginning, when Miss +MacDowlas interrupted her. + +"You met me at the Bilberrys'," she said. "I remember seeing you very +well. You are Dorothea Crewe." + +Dolly bowed in her most insinuatingly graceful manner. + +"Take a seat," said Miss MacDowlas. + +Dolly did so at once. + +Miss MacDowlas looked at her with the air of an elderly lady who was not +displeased. + +"I remember you very well," she repeated. "You were governess there. Why +did you leave?" + +Dolly did not know very definitely, and told her so. + +The notice given her had been unexpected. Lady Augusta had said it was +because her pupils were old enough to be sent from home. + +"Oh!" said Miss MacDowlas, and looked at her again from her hat to her +shoes. + +"You are fond of reading?" she asked next + +"Yes," answered Dolly. + +"You read French well?" + +"Yes," said Dolly. She knew she need not hesitate to say that, at least. + +"You are good company and are fond of society?" + +"I am fond of society," said Dolly, "and I hope I am 'good company,'" + +"You don't easily lose patience?" + +"It depends upon circumstances," said Dolly. + +"You can play and sing?" + +"I did both the night I met you," returned the young person. + +"So you did," said Miss MacDowlas, and examined her again. + +It was rather an odd interview, upon the whole, but it did not end +unfortunately. Miss MacDowlas wanted a companion who was quick-witted +and amusing, and, having seen that Dolly was both on the evening of the +Bilberry clan gathering, she had taken a fancy to her. So after a little +sharp questioning, she announced her decision. She would employ her to +fill the vacant situation at the same rate of salary she had enjoyed +in her position of governess to the youthful Bilberrys, and she would +employ her at once. + +"I want somebody to amuse me," she said, "and I think you can do it. +I am often an invalid, and my medical man says the society of a young +person will benefit me." + +So it was settled that the following week Dolly should take up her abode +at Brabazon Lodge and enter upon the fulfilment of her duties. She +was to read, play, sing, assist in the entertainment of visitors, and +otherwise make herself generally useful, and, above all, she was to be +amusing. + +She left the house and proceeded homeward in a peculiar frame of mind. +She could have laughed, but she was compelled to admit to herself that +she could also have cried with equal readiness. She had met with an +adventure indeed. She was a young person at large no longer; henceforth +she was the property of the elderly dragon she had so often laughed at +with Griffith. And yet the dragon had not been so objectionable, after +all. She had been abrupt and unceremonious, but she had been better than +Lady Augusta, and she had not shown herself illiberal. But there would +be no more daily visits from Griffith, no more _tte--ttes_ in the +shabby parlor, no more sitting by the fire when the rest had left the +room, no more tender and inconsistently long farewells at the front +door. It was not pleasant to think about. She found herself catching her +breath quickly, with a sound like a little sob. + +"He will miss it awfully," she said to herself, holding her muff closely +with her small, cold hands, and shutting her eyes to work away a tear; +"but he won't miss it more than I shall. He might live without me +perhaps, but I could n't live without him. I wonder if ever two people +cared for each other as we do before? And I wonder if the time will ever +come--" And there she broke off again, and ended as she so often did. +"Poor old fellow!" she said. "Poor, dear, patient, faithful fellow! how +I love you!" + +She hurried on briskly after this, but she was wondering all the +time what he would say when he found out that they were really to be +separated. He would rebel, she knew, and anathematize fate vehemently. +But she knew the rest of them would regard it as rather a rich joke that +chance should have thrown her into the hands of Miss MacDowlas. They had +all so often laughed at Griffith's descriptions of her and her letters, +given generally when he had been galled into a caustic mood by the +arrival of one of the latter. + +Beaching Bloomsbury Place, Dolly found her lover there. He had dropped +in on his way to his lodgings, and was awaiting her in a fever of +expectation, having heard the news from Aime. + +"What is this Aime has been telling me?" he cried, the moment she +entered the room. "You can't be in earnest, Doll! You can't leave home +altogether, you know." + +She tossed her muff on the table and sat down on one of the low chairs, +with her feet on the fender. + +"I thought so until this morning," she said, a trifle mournfully; "but +it can't be helped. The fact is, it is all settled now. I am an engaged +young person." + +"Settled!" exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. "Engaged! Dolly, I did n't +think you would have done it." + +"I could n't help doing it," said Dolly, her spirits by no means rising +as she spoke. "How could I?" + +But he would not be consoled by any such cold comfort. He had regarded +the possibility of her leaving the house altogether as something not +likely to be thought of. Very naturally, he was of the opinion that +Dolly was as absolute a necessity to every one else as she was to +himself. What _should_ he do without her? How could he exist? It was an +unreasoning insanity to talk about it. He was so roused by his subject +indeed, that, neither of them being absolutely angelic in temperament, +they wandered off into something very like a little quarrel about +it,--he, goaded to lover-like madness by the idea that she could live +without him; she, finding her low spirits culminate in a touch of anger +at his hotheaded, affectionate obstinacy. + +"But it is not to be expected," he broke out at last, without any +reason whatever,--"it is not to be expected that you can contend against +everything. You are tired of disappointment, and I don't blame you. +I should be a selfish dolt if I did. If Gowan had been in my place he +could have married you, and have given you a home of your own. I never +shall be able to do that. But," with great weakness and evidence of +tribulation at the thought, "I didn't think you would be so cool about +it, Dolly." + +"Cool!" cried Dolly, waxing wroth and penitent both at once, as usual. +"Who is cool? Not I, that is certain. I shall miss you every hour of my +life, Griffith." And the sad little shadow on her face was so real that +he was pacified at once. + +"I am an unreasonable simpleton!" was his next remorseful outburst. + +"You have said that before," said Dolly, rather hard-heartedly; but in +spite of it she did not refuse to let him be as affectionate as he chose +when he knelt down by her chair, as he did the next minute. + +"It would be a great deal better for me," she half whispered, breaking +the suspicious silence that followed,--"it would be a great deal better +for _me_ if I did not care for you half so much;" and yet at the same +time she leaned a trifle more toward him in the most traitorous of +half-coaxing, half-reproachful ways. + +"It would be the death of _me_," said Griffith; and he at once plunged +into an eloquently persuasive dissertation upon the height and depth +and breadth and force of his love for her. He was prone to such +dissertations, and always ready with one to improve any occasion; and +I am compelled to admit that, far from checking him, Dolly rather liked +them, and was given to encourage and incite him to their delivery. +When this one was ended, he was quite in the frame of mind to listen +to reason, and let her enter into particulars concerning her morning's +efforts, which she did, at length, only adding a flavor of the +mysterious up to the introduction of Miss MacDowlas. + +"What!" cried out Griffith, when she let out the secret. "Confound it! +No! Not Aunt MacDowlas in the flesh, Dolly? You are joking." + +"No," answered Dolly, shaking her head at the amazed faces of the girls, +who had come in during the recital, and who had been guilty of the +impropriety of all exclaiming at once when the climax was reached. "I +am in earnest. I am engaged as companion to no less a person than Miss +Berenice MacDowlas." + +"Why, it is like something out of a three-volumed novel," said Mollie. + +"It is a good joke," said 'Toinette. + +"It is very awkward," commented Aime. "If she finds out you are engaged +to Griffith, she will think it so indiscreet of you both that she will +cut him off with a shilling." + +"Indiscreet!" echoed Dolly. "So we are indiscreet, my sage young +friend,--but indiscretion is like variety, it is the spice of life." + +And by this brisk speech she managed to sweep away the shadow which +had touched Griffith's face, at the unconscious hint at their lack of +wisdom. + +"Don't say such a thing again," she said to Aime afterward, when +they were talking the matter over, as they always talked things over +together, "or he will fancy that you share his own belief that he has +something to reproach himself with. Better to be indiscreet than to love +one another less." + +"A great deal better," commented the wise one of the family, oracularly. +She was not nineteen yet, this wise one, but she was a great comfort +and help to Dolly, and indeed to all of them. "And it is n't _my_ way +to blame you, either, Dolly, though things _do_ look so entangled. _I_ +never advised you to give it up, you know." + +"Give it up," cried Dolly, a soft, pathetic warmth and color rising to +her face and eyes. "Give it up! There would be too much of what has +past and what is to come to give up with it. Give it up! I wouldn't if I +could, and I could n't if I would." + + + +CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + +IT was several days before Bloomsbury Place settled down and became +itself again after Dolly's departure. They all missed her as they would +have missed any one of their number who had chanced to leave them; +but Griffith, coming in to make his daily visits, was naturally almost +disconsolate, and for a week or so refused to be comforted. + +He could not overcome his habit of dropping in on his way to and from +his lodgings, which were near by; it was a habit of too long standing to +be overcome easily, and besides this, he was so far a part of the family +circle that his absence from it would have been regarded by its other +members as something rather like a slight, so he was obliged to pay them +the delicate attention of presenting himself at least once a day. And +thus his wounds were kept open. To come into the parlor and find them +all there but Dolly, to see her favorite chair occupied by Mollie +or Aime or 'Toinette, to hear them talk about her and discuss her +prospects,--well, there were times when he was quite crushed by it. + +"If there was any hope of a better day coming," he said to Aime, who, +through being the family sage, was, of course, the family confidante, +"if there was only something real to look forward to, but we are just +where we were three years ago, and this sort of thing cannot go on +forever. What right have I to hold her to her word when other men might +make her happier?" + +Ainice, sitting on a stool at his feet and looking reflective, shook her +head. + +"That is not a right view to take," she said, "and it is n't fair to +Dolly. Dolly would be happier with you on a pound a week than she would +be with any one else on ten thousand a year. And you ought to know that +by this time, Griffith. It is n't a question of happiness at all." + +"I don't mean--" he was beginning, but Aime interrupted him. Her part +of this love affair was to lay plans for the benefit of the lovers and +to endeavor to settle their little difficulties in her own way. + +"I am very fond of Dolly," she said. + +"Fond of her!" echoed Griffith. "So am I. Who isn't?" + +"I am very fond of Dolly," Aime proceeded. + +"And _I_ know her as other people do not, perhaps. She does not show as +much of her real self to outsiders as they think. I have often thought +her daring, open way deceived people when it made them fancy she was +so easy to read. She has romantic fancies of her own the world never +suspects her of,--if I did not know her as I do, she is the last person +on earth I should suspect of cherishing such fancies. The fact is, you +are a sort of romance to her, and her love for you is one of her dreams, +and she clings to it as closely as she would cling to life. It is a +dream she has lived on so long that it has become part of herself, and +it is my impression that if anything happened to break her belief in it +she would die,--yes, _die!_" with another emphatic shake of the pretty +head. "And Dolly is n't the sort of girl to die for nothing." + +Griffith raised his bowed head from his hands, his soft, dark, womanish +eyes lighting up and his sallow young face flushing. "God bless +her,--no!" he said. "Her life has not been free from thorns, even so +far, and she has not often cried out against them." + +"No," answered Aime. "And when the roses come, no one will see as you +will how sweet she finds them. Your Dolly is n't Lady Augusta's Dolly, +or Mollie's, or Ralph Gowan's, or even mine; she is the Dolly no one but +her lover and her husband has ever seen or ever will see. _You_ can get +at the spark in the opal." + +Griffith was comforted, as he often found himself comforted, under the +utterances of this wise one. + +His desperation was toned down, and he was readier to hope for the best +and to feel warm at heart and grateful,--grateful for Dolly and the +tender thoughts that were bound up in his love for her. The tender +phantom Aime's words had conjured up, stirred within his bosom a thrill +so loving and impassioned, that for the time the radiance seemed to +emanate from the very darkest of his clouds of disappointment and +discouragement. He was reminded that but for those very clouds the +girl's truth and faith would never have shone out so brightly. But for +their poverty and long probation, he could never have learned how much +she was ready to face for love's sake. And it was such an innocent +phantom, too, this bright little figure smiling upon him through the +darkness, with Dolly's own face, and Dolly's own saucy, fanciful ways, +and Dolly's own hands outstretched toward him. He quite plucked up +spirit. + +"If Old Flynn could just be persuaded to give me a raise," he said; "it +would n't take much of an income for two people to live on." + +"No," answered the wise one, feeling some slight misgivings, more on +the subject of the out-go than the income. "You might live on very +little--if you had it." + +"Yes," said Griffith, apparently struck by the brilliancy of the +observation, "Dolly and I have said so often." + +"Let me see," considered Aime, "suppose we were to make a sort +of calculation. Give me your lead-pencil and a leaf out of your +pocket-book." + +Griffith produced both at once. He had done it often enough before when +Dolly had been the calculator, and had made a half-serious joke of the +performance, counting up her figures on the tips of her fingers, and +making great professions of her knowledge of domestic matters; but +it was a different affair in Aime's hands. Aime was in earnest, and +bending over her scrap of paper, with two or three little lines on +her white forehead began to set things down with an air at once +business-like and vigorous, reading, the various items aloud. + +"Rent, coals, taxes, food, wages,--you can't do your own washing, you +know,--clothes, etceteras. There it is, Griffith," the odd, tried look +settling in her eyes. + +Griffith took the paper. + +"Thank you," he remarked, resignedly, after he had glanced at it. "Just +fifty pounds per annum more than I have any prospect of getting. But +you are very kind to take so much interest in it, little woman." "Little +woman" was his pet name for her. + +She put her hand up to her forehead and gave the wrinkles a little rub, +as if she would have liked to rub them away. + +"No," she said, in distress. "I am very fond of calculating, so it isn't +any trouble to me. I only wish I could calculate until what you want and +what you have got would come out even." + +Griffith sighed. He had wished the same thing himself upon several +occasions. + +He had one consolation in the midst of his tribulations, however. He had +Dolly's letters, one of which arrived at "the office" every few days. +Certainly they were both faithful correspondents. Tied with blue ribbon +in a certain strong box, lay an immense collection of small envelopes, +all marked with one peculiarity, namely, that the letters inside them +had been at once closely written, and so much too tightly packed that it +seemed a wonder they had ever arrived safely at their destination. +They bore various postmarks, foreign and English, and were of different +tints, but they were all directed in the one small, dashing hand, whose +_t'_s were crossed with an audacious little flourish, and whose capitals +were so prone to run into whimsical little curls. Most of them had been +written when Dolly had sojourned with her charges in Switzerland, and +some of them were merely notes of appointment from Bloomsbury Place; but +each of them held its own magnetic attraction for Griffith, and not one +of them would he have parted with for untold gold. He could count these +small envelopes by the score, but he had never received one in his +life without experiencing a positive throb of delight, which held fresh +pleasure every time. + +Most of these letters, too, had stories of their own. Some had come when +he had been discouraged and down at heart, and they had been so full of +sunshine, and pretty, loving conceits, that by the time he had finished +reading them he had been positively jubilant; some, I regret to say, +were a trifle wilful and coquettish, and had so roused him to jealous +fancies that he had instantly dashed off a page or so of insane reproach +and distrust which had been the beginning of a lover's quarrel; some +of them (always written after he had been specially miserable and +unreasoning) were half-pathetic mixtures of reproach and appeal, full of +small dashes of high indignation, and outbursts of penitence, and with +such a capricious, yet passionate ring in every line, that they had +seemed less like letters than actual speech, and had almost forced him +to fancy that Dolly herself was at his side, all in the flush and glow +of one of her prettiest remorseful outbreaks. + +And these letters from Brabazon Lodge were just as real, so they +at least helped him to bear his trials more patiently than he could +otherwise have done. She was far more comfortable than she had expected +to be, she told him. Her duties were light, and Miss MacDowlas not hard +to please, and altogether she was not dissatisfied. + +"But that I am away from _you_," she wrote, "I should say Brabazon +Lodge was better than the Bilberrys'. There is no skirmishing with Lady +Augusta, at least; and, though skirmishing with Lady Augusta is not +without its mild excitement, it is not necessary to one's happiness, +and may be dispensed with. I wonder what Miss MacDowlas would say if she +knew why I wear this modest ring on my third finger. When I explained to +her casually that we were old friends, she succinctly remarked that you +were a reprobate, and, feeling it prudent not to proceed with further +disclosures, I bent my head demurely over my embroidery, and subsided +into silence. I cannot discover why she disapproves of you unless it +is that she has erratic notions about literary people. Perhaps she will +alter her opinion in time. As it is, it can scarcely matter whether she +knows of our engagement or not. When a fitting opportunity arrives +I shall tell her, and I don't say I shall not enjoy the spice of the +_denouement_. In the meantime I read aloud to her, talk, work wonders in +Berlin wool, and play or sing when she asks me, which is not often. In +the morning we drive out, in the afternoon she enjoys her nap, and +in the evening I sit decorously intent upon the Berlin wonders, but +thinking all the time of you and the parlor in Bloomsbury Place, where +Tod disports himself in triumphant indifference to consequences, and +where the girls discuss the lingering possibilities of their wardrobes. +You may-tell Mollie we are very grand,--we have an immense footman, who +accompanies us in our walks or drives, and condescends to open and shut +our carriage-door for us, with the air of a gentleman at leisure. I am +rather inclined to think that this gentleman has cast an approving eye +upon me, as I heard him observe to the housemaid the other day, that I +was 'a reether hinterestin' young party,' which mark of friendly notice +has naturally cheered me on my lonely way." + +Among the people who felt the change in the household keenly, Ralph +Gowan may assuredly be included. He missed Dolly as much as any of them +did, but he missed her in a different manner. He did not call quite as +often as he had been in the habit of doing, and when he did call he was +more silent and less entertaining. Dolly had always had an inspiring +effect upon him, and, lacking the influence of her presence, even +Vagabondia lost something of its charm. So sometimes he was guilty of +the impoliteness of slipping into half-unconscious reveries of a few +minutes' duration, and, being thus guilty upon one particular occasion, +he was roused, after a short lapse of time, through the magnetic +influence of a pair of soft eyes fixed upon him, which eyes he +encountered the instant he looked up, with a start. + +Mollie--the eyes were Mollie's--dropped her brown lashes with a quick +motion, turning a little away from him; so he smiled at her with a sense +of half-awakened appreciation. It was so natural to smile so at Mollie. + +"Why, Mollie," he said, "what ails us? We are not usually so dull. We +have not spoken to each other for ten minutes." + +The girl did not look at him; her round, childish cheek was flushed, +and her eyes were fixed on the fire, half proudly, half with a sort of +innocently transparent indifference. + +"Perhaps we have nothing worth saying to each other," she said. +"Everybody is n't like Dolly." + +Dolly! He colored slightly, though he smiled again. How did she know he +was thinking of Dolly? Was it so patent a fact that even she could read +it in his face? It never occurred to him for an instant that there could +exist a reason why the eyes of this grown-up baby should be sharpened. +She was such a very baby, with her ready blushes and her pettish, lovely +face. + +"And so you miss Dolly, too?" he said. + +She shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply that she considered the +question superfluous. + +"Of course I do," she answered; "and of course we all do. Dolly is the +sort of person likely to be missed." + +She was so petulant about it that, not understanding her, he was both +amused and puzzled, and so by degrees was drawn into making divers +gallant, almost caressing speeches, such as might have been drawn from +him by the changeful mood of a charming, wilful child. + +"Something has made you angry," he said. "What is it, Mollie?" + +"Nothing has made me angry," she replied. "I am not angry." + +"But you look angry," he returned, "and how do you suppose I am to be +interesting when you look angry?" + +"It cannot matter to you," said Miss Mollie, "whether I am angry or +not." + +"Not matter!" he echoed, with great gravity. "It amounts to positive +cruelty. Just at this particular moment I feel as if I should never +smile again." + +She reddened to her very throat, and then turned round all at once, +flashing upon him such a piteous, indignant, indescribable glance as +almost startled him. + +"You are making fun of me," she cried out. "You always make fun of _me_. +You would n't talk so to Dolly." And that instant she burst into tears. + +He was dumbfounded. He could not comprehend it at all. He had thought +of her as being so completely a child, that her troubles were never more +than a child's troubles, and her moods a child's moods. He had admired +her, too, as he would have admired her if she had been six years old, +and he had never spoken to her as he would have spoken to a woman, in +the whole course of their acquaintance. She was right in telling him +that he would not have said such things to Dolly. He was both concerned +and touched. What could he do but go to her and be dangerously penitent, +and say a great many things easily said, but not soon to be forgotten! +Indeed, her soft, nervous, passionate sobs, of which she was so much +ashamed, her innocent tremor, and her pretty, wilful disregard of his +remorse were such a new sensation to him, that it must be confessed he +was not so discreet as he should have been. + +"You never speak so to Dolly," she persisted, "nor to Aime, either, +and Aime is only two years older than I am. It is not my fault," +petulantly, "that I am only seventeen." + +"Fault!" he repeated after her. "It is a very charming fault, if it is +one. Come, Mollie," looking down at her with a tender softness in his +eyes, "make friends with me again,--we ought to be friends. See,--let us +shake hands!" + +Of course she let him take her hand and hold it lightly for a moment as +he talked, his really honest remorse at his blunder making him doubly +earnest and so doubly dangerous. She had swept even Dolly out of his +mind for the time being, and she occupied his attention so fully for the +rest of the evening that he had not the time to be absent-minded again. +In half an hour all traces of her tears had fled, and she was sitting on +her footstool near him, accepting with such evident delight his efforts +at amusing her, that she quite repaid him for his trouble. + +After this there seemed to be some connecting link between them. In +default of other attractions, he made headway with Mollie, and was to +some extent consoled. He talked to her when he made his visits, and it +gradually became an understood thing that they were very good friends. +He won her confidence completely,--so far, indeed, that she used to +tell him her troubles, and was ready to accept what meed of praise or +friendly blame he might think fit to bestow upon her. + +It was a few weeks after the above-recorded episode that Griffith +arrived one afternoon, in some haste, with a note from Dolly addressed +to Aime, and containing a few hurried lines. It had been enclosed in a +letter to himself. + +Somewhat unexpectedly Miss MacDowlas had decided upon giving a +dinner-party, and Dolly wanted the white merino, which she had forgotten +to put into her trunk when she had packed it. Would they make a parcel +of it and send it by Mollie to Brabazon Lodge? + +"You will have to go at once, Mollie," said Aime, after reading the +note. "It will be dark in an hour, and you ought not to be out after +dark." + +"It is a great deal nicer to be out then," said Mollie, whose ideas +of propriety were by no means rigid. "I like to see the shop windows +lighted up. Where is my hat? Does anybody know?" rising from the carpet +and abandoning Tod to his own resources. + +Nobody did know, of course. It was not natural that anybody should. Hats +and gloves and such small fry were generally left to provide quarters +for themselves in Bloomsbury Place. + +"What is the use of bothering?" remarked Mrs. Phil, disposing of the +difficulty of their non-appearance when required, simply; "they always +turn up in time." And in like manner Mollie's hat "turned up," and in +a few minutes she returned to the parlor, tying the elastic under her +hair. + +"Your hair wants doing," said Aime, having made up her parcel. + +"Yes," replied Mollie, contentedly, "Tod has been pulling himself up by +it; but it would be such a trouble to do anything to it just now, and I +can tuck it back in a bunch. It only looks a little fuzzy, and that 's +fashionable. Does this jacket look shabby, Aime? It is a good thing it +has pockets in it. I always _did_ like pockets in a jacket, they are so +nice to put your hands in when your gloves have holes in them." + +"Your gloves oughtn't to have holes in them," commented Aime. + +"But how can you help it if you have n't got the money to buy new ones?" +asked Mollie. + +"You ought to mend them," said the wise one. + +"Mend them!" echoed Mollie, regarding two or three bare pink finger-tips +dubiously. "They are not worth mending." + +"They were once," said Aime; "and you ought to have stitched them +before it was too late. But that is always our way," wrinkling her +forehead with her usual touch of old-young anxiousness. "We are not +practical. There! take the parcel and walk quickly, Mollie." + +Once on the street, Mollie certainly obeyed her. With the parcel in one +arm, and with one hand thrust into the convenient pocket, she hurried +on her way briskly, not even stopping once to look at the shop windows. +Quite unconscious, too, was she of the notice she excited among the +passers-by. People even turned to look after her more than once, as +indeed they often did. The scarlet scarf twisted round her throat to +hide the frayed jacket collar, and the bit of scarlet mixed with the +trimmings of her hat contrasted artistically with her brown eyes, and +added brightness to the color on her cheeks. It was no wonder that men +and women alike, in spite of their business-like hurry, found time to +glance at her and even turn their heads over their shoulders to look +backward, as she made her way along the pavement. + +It was quite dark when she reached her destination, and Brabazon Lodge +was brilliantly lighted up,--so brilliantly, indeed, that when the heavy +front door was opened, in answer to her ring, she was a trifle dazzled +by the flood of brightness in which Dolly's friend, the "gentleman at +leisure," seemed to stand. + +On stating her errand, she was handed over to a female servant, who +stood in the hall. + +"She was to be harsked in," she heard the footman observe, +confidentially, to the young woman, "and taken to Miss Crewe's room +immediate." + +So she was led up-stairs, and ushered into a pretty bedroom, where she +found Dolly sitting by the fire in a dressing-gown, with her hair about +her shoulders. + +She jumped up the moment Mollie entered, and ran to her, brush in hand, +to kiss her. + +"You are a good child," she said. "Come to the fire and sit down. Did +you have any trouble in finding the house? I was afraid you would. It +was just like me to forget the dress, and I never missed it until I +began to look for it, wanting to wear it to-night. How is Tod?" + +"He has got another tooth," said Mollie. "I found it to-day. Dolly," +glancing round, "how nice your room is!" + +"Yes," answered Dolly, checking a sigh, "but don't sigh after the +fleshpots of Egypt, Mollie. One does n't see the dullest side of life at +Bloomsbury Place, at least." + +"Is it dull here?" asked Mollie. + +Dolly shrugged her expressive shoulders. + +"Berlin-wool work is n't exciting," she said. "How did you leave +Griffith?" + +"Low-spirited," replied Mollie. "I heard him tell Aime this afternoon +that he could n't stand it much longer." + +Dolly began to brush her hair, and brushed it very much over her face, +perhaps because she wished to take advantage of its shadow; for most +assuredly Mollie caught sight of something sparkling amongst the +abundant waves almost like a drop of dew. + +"Dolly," she said at last, breaking the awkward little sympathetic +silence which naturally followed, "do you remember our reading the +'Vicar of Wakefield'?" + +"Yes," said Dolly, in a mournful half-whisper; she could not trust +herself to say more. + +"And about the family being 'up,' and then being 'down'? I always think +we are like they were. First it is 'the family up,' and then 'the family +down.' It is down just now." + +"Yes," said Dolly. + +"It will be 'up' again, in time," proceeded Mollie, sagaciously. "It +always is." + +Dolly tried to laugh, but her laugh was a nervous little effort which +broke off in another sound altogether. Berlin-wool work and Brabazon +Lodge had tried her somewhat and--she wanted Griffith. It seemed to her +just then such a far distant unreal Paradise,--that dream of the modest +parlor with the door shut against the world, and the green sofa drawn +near the fire. Were they ever to attain it, or were they to grow old and +tired out waiting, and hoping against hope? + +She managed to rally, however, in a few minutes. Feeling discouraged and +rebellious was not of much use,--that was one of Vagabondia's earliest +learned lessons. And what good was there in making Mollie miserable? So +she plucked up spirit and began to talk, and, to her credit be it said, +succeeded in being fairly amusing, and made Mollie laugh outright half a +dozen times during the remainder of her short stay. It was only a short +stay, however. She remembered Aime's warning at last, and rose rather +in a hurry. + +"I shall have to walk quickly if I want to get home in time for tea," +she said, "so good-night, Dolly. You had better finish dressing." + +"So I had," answered Dolly. "I am behind time already, but I shall not +be many minutes, and Miss MacDowlas is not like Lady Augusta. Listen; I +believe I hear wheels at the door now. It must be later than I fancied." + +It was later than she fancied. As Mollie passed through the hall two +gentlemen who were ascending the steps crossed her path, and, seeing the +face of one who had not appeared to notice her presence, she started +so nervously that she dropped her glove. His companion--a handsome, +foreign-looking man--bent down and, picking it up, returned it to her, +with a glance of admiring scrutiny which made her more excited than +ever. She scarcely had the presence of mind to thank him, but rushed +past him and out into the night in a passionate flutter of pain and +sudden childish anger, inconsistent enough. + +"He never saw me!" she said to herself, catching her breath piteously. +"He is going to see Dolly. It is n't the party he cares for, and it +is n't Miss MacDowlas,--it is nobody but Dolly. He has tried to get an +invitation just because--because he cares for Dolly." + +She reached home in time for tea, arriving with so little breath and so +much burning color that they all stared at her, and Aime asked her if +she had been frightened. + +"No," she answered, "but I ran half the way because I wanted to be in +time." + +She did not talk at tea, and scarcely ate anything, and when Griffith +came in, at about nine o'clock, he found her lying on the sofa, flushed +and silent. She said she had a headache. + +"I took Dolly her dress," she said. "They are having a grand party +and--Does Miss MacDowlas know Mr. Gowan, Griffith?" + +Griffith started and changed countenance at once. + +"No," he answered. "Why?" + +"He was there," she said, listlessly. "I met him in the hall as I came +out, but he did not see me. He must have tried to get an invitation +because--well, you know how he likes Dolly." + +And thus, the train having been already laid, was the spark applied. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + +IT was some time before Griffith recovered from the effects of this +simple announcement of Mollie's. + +Though he scarcely confessed as much to himself, he thought of it +very much oftener than was conducive to his own peace of mind, and +in thinking of it he found it assuming a greater importance and +significance than he had at first recognized in it, and was influenced +accordingly. He went home to his lodgings, depressed and heavy of +spirit; in fact, he left Bloomsbury Place earlier than usual, because he +longed to be alone. He could think of nothing but Dolly,--Dolly in the +white merino, shining like a stray star among her employer's guests, and +gladdening the eyes of Ralph Gowan. He knew so well how she would +look, and how this fellow would follow her in his easy fashion, without +rendering himself noticeable, and manage to be near her through the +evening and hold his place as if he had a right to it, and he knew, too, +how natural it would be for Dolly's eyes to light up in her pleasure +at being saved from boredom, and how her innocent gladness would show +itself in a score of pretty ways. And it was as Mollie said,--it was for +Dolly's sake that Ralph Gowan was there to-night. + +"She must know that it is so herself," he groaned, dropping his head +upon the table; "but she cannot help it. She would if she could. Yes, +I 'll believe that. She could never be false to me. I must hold fast to +that in spite of everything. I should go mad if I did n't. I could never +lose you, Dolly,--I could never lose you!" + +But he groaned again the next moment from the bottom of his desperate +heart. He had become tangled in yet another web of misery. + +"It is only another proof of what I have said a thousand times," he +cried out. "My claim upon her is so weak, that this fellow does not +think it worth regarding. He thinks it may be set aside,--they all +think it may be set aside. I should not wonder," clenching his hand and +speaking through his teeth,--"I should not wonder if he has laughed +many a time at his fancy of how it will end, and how easy it will be to +thrust the old love to the wall!" + +At this moment, in the first rankling sting of humiliation and despair, +he could almost have struck a murderous blow at the man whom fortune +had set on such a pinnacle of pride and insolence, as it seemed to his +galled fancy. He was not in the mood to be either just or generous, and +he saw in Ralph Gowan nothing but a man who had both the power and will +to rival him, and rob him of peace and hope forever. If Dolly had been +with him, in all probability his wretchedness would have evaporated in a +harmless outburst, which would have touched the girl's heart so tenderly +that she would have withheld nothing of love and consolation which could +reassure him, and so in the end the tempest would have left no wound +behind. But as it was left to himself and his imaginings, every thought +held its bitter sting. He was, as it were, upon the brink of an abyss. + +And while this danger was threatening her, Dolly was setting herself +steadfastly to her task of entertaining her employer's guests, though +it must be confessed that she found it necessary to summon all her +energies. She was thinking of Griffith, but not as Griffith was thinking +of her. She was picturing him looking desolate among the group round +the fire at Bloomsbury Place, or else working desperately and with +unnecessary energy amidst the dust and gloom of the dimly lighted +office; and the result was that her spirit almost failed. It was quite +a relief to encounter Ralph Gowan, as she did, on entering the room: he +had seen them all latterly, and could enter into particulars; and so, +in her pleasure, it must be owned that her face brightened, just as +Griffith had fancied it would, when she shook hands with him. + +"I did not hear that you were coming," she said. "How glad I am!" +which was the most dangerous speech she could have made under +the circumstances, since it was purely on her account that he had +diplomatized to obtain the invitation. + +He did not find it easy to release her hand all at once, and certainly +he lighted up also. + +"Will you let me tell you that it was not Miss MacDowlas who brought me +here?" he said, in a low voice; "though I appreciate her kindness, as a +grateful man ought. Vagabondia is desolate without you." + +She tried to laugh, but could not; her attempt broke off in the +unconscious sigh, which always touched him, he scarcely knew why. + +"Is it?" she said, looking up at him without a bit of the old +brightness. "Don't tell them, Mr. Gowan, but the fact is I am desolate +without it. I want to go home." + +He felt his heart leap suddenly, and before he could check himself he +spoke. + +"I wish--I _wish_," he said, "that you would let me take you home." And +the simply sounding words embodied a great deal more of tender fancy +than a careless observer would have imagined; and Dolly, recognizing the +thrill in his voice, was half startled. + +But she shook her head, and managed to smile. + +"That is not wisdom," she said. "It savors of the lilies of the field. +We cannot quarrel with our bread and butter for sentiment's sake +in Vagabondia. Did you know that Mollie had paid me a visit this +evening?--or perhaps you saw her; I think she went out as you came in." + +"Mollie!" he said, surprisedly; and then looking half annoyed, or at +least a trifle disturbed, he added, as if a sudden thought had occurred +to him, "then it was Mollie, Chandos spoke of." + +"Chandos!" echoed Dolly. "Who is Chandos--and what did Chandos say about +Mollie?" + +He glanced across the room to where a tall, handsome man was bending +over a fussy little woman in pink. + +"That is Chandos," he said; "and since you spoke of Mollie's visit, I +recollect that, as we came into the house, Chandos was behind me and +lingered a moment or so, and when he came to me afterward he asked if +I had seen the face that passed us as we entered. It had roused his +enthusiasm as far as it can be roused by anything." + +"It must have been Mollie," commented Dolly, and she looked at the man +on the opposite side of the room, uneasily. "Is he a friend of yours?" +she asked, after scrutinizing him for a few seconds. + +Gowan shrugged his shoulders.' + +"Not a friend," he answered, dryly. "An acquaintance. We have not much +in common." + +"I am glad to hear it," was Dolly's return. "I don't like Chandos." + +She could not have explained why she did not like him, but certainly she +was vaguely repelled and could not help hoping that he would never see +Mollie again. He was just the man to be dangerous to Mollie; handsome, +polished, ready of speech and perfect in manner, he was the sort of man +to dazzle and flatter any ignorant, believing child. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, half aloud, "I could not bear to think that he +would see her again." + +She uttered the words quite involuntarily, but Gowan heard them, and +looked at her in some surprise, and so awakened her from her reverie. + +"Are you speaking of Mollie?" he asked. + +"Yes," she answered, candidly, "though I did not mean to speak aloud. +My thoughts were only a mental echo of the remark I made a moment +ago,--that I don't like Chandos. I do not like him at all, even at this +distance, and I cannot resist feeling that I do not want him to see +anything more of Mollie. We are not very discreet, we Vagabonds, but we +must learn wisdom enough to shield Mollie." And she sighed again. + +"I understand that," he said, almost tenderly, so sympathetically, in +fact, that she turned toward him as if moved by a sudden impulse. + +"I have sometimes thought since I came here," she said, "that perhaps +_you_ might help me a little, if you would. She is so pretty, you see, +and so young, and, through knowing so little of the world and longing to +know so much, in a childish, half-dazzled way, is so innocently wilful +that she would succumb to a novel influence more readily than to an +old one. So I have thought once or twice of asking you to watch her a +little, and guard her if--if you should ever see her in danger." + +"I can promise to do that much, at least," he returned, smiling. + +She held out her hand impetuously, just as she would have held it out +to Griffith, and, oh, the hazard of it,--the hazard of so throwing aside +her mock airs and graces, and showing herself to him just as she showed +herself to the man she loved,--the Dolly whose heart was on her lips and +whose soul was in her eyes. + +"Then we will make a 'paction' of it," she said. "You will help me to +take care of her." + +"For your sake," he said, "there are few things I would not do." + +So from that time forward he fell into the habit of regarding +unsuspecting Mollie as his own special charge. He was so faithful to +his agreement, indeed, that once or twice Griffith was almost ready to +console himself with the thought that perhaps, after all, the child's +beauty and tractability would win its way, and Gowan would find himself +seriously touched at heart. Just now he could see that his manner was +scarcely that of a lover, but there most assuredly was a probability +that it might alter and become more warm and less friendly and platonic. +As to Mollie herself, she was growing a trifle incomprehensible; she +paid more attention to her lovely hair than she had been in the habit +of doing, and was even known to mend her gloves; she began to be more +conscious of the dignity of her seventeen years. She complained less +petulantly of the attentions of Phil's friends, and accepted them with +a better grace. The wise one even observed that she tolerated Brown, +the obnoxious, and permitted him to admire her--at a distance. In her +intercourse with Gowan she was capricious and had her moods. Sometimes +she indulged in the weakness of tiring herself in all her small bravery +when he was coming, and presented herself in the parlor beauteous and +flushed and conscious, and was so delectably shy and sweet that she +betrayed him into numerous trifling follies not at all consistent with +his high position of mentor; and then, again, she was obstinate, rather +incomprehensible, and did not adorn herself at all, and, indeed, was +hard enough to manage. + +"You are growing very queer, Mollie," said Miss Aime, wonderingly. + +To which sage remark Mollie retorted with a tremulous, sensitive flush, +and most unnecessary warmth of manner. + +"I 'm not queer at all I wish you would n't bother so, Aime!" + +That very afternoon she came into the room with a card in her hand, +after going out to answer a summons at the door-bell. + +"Phil," she said, "a gentleman wants you. Chandos, the card says." + +"Chandos!" read Phil, rising from the comfort of his couch, and taking +his pipe out of his mouth. "Who knows Chandos?--I don't. It must be some +fellow on business." + +And so it proved. He found the gentleman awaiting him in the next +room, and in a very short time learned his errand. Chandos introduced +himself--Gerald Chandos, of The Pools, Bedfordshire, who, hearing of Mr. +Crewe through numerous friends, not specified, and having a fancy--quite +the fancy of an uncultured amateur, modestly--for pictures and an +absorbing passion for art in all its forms, had taken the liberty of +calling, etc. It was very smoothly said, and Chandos, of The Pools, +being an imposing patrician sort of individual, and free from all +fopperies or affectations, Phil met his advances complacently enough. +It was no unusual thing for an occasional patron to drop in after this +manner. He had no fault to find with a man who, having the good fortune +to possess money, had the good taste to know how to spend it. So he +made friends with Chandos, pretty much as he had made friends with +Gowan,--pretty much as he would have made friends with any other +sufficiently amiable and well-bred visitor to his modest studio. He +showed him his pictures, and talked art to him, and managed to spend an +hour very pleasantly, ending by selling him a couple of tiny spirited +sketches, which had taken his fancy. It was when he was taking +down these sketches from the wall that he heard a sort of smothered +exclamation from the man, who stood a few feet apart from him, and, +turning to see what it meant, he saw that he had just discovered the +fresh, lovely, black-hooded head, with the trail of autumn leaves +clinging to the loose trail of hair,--the picture for which Mollie +had sat as model. It was very evident that Chandos, of The Pools, was +admiring it. + +"Ah!" said he, the next minute. "I know this face. There can scarcely be +two faces like it." + +Phil left his sketches and came to him, the pleasure he felt on the +success of his creation warming him up. This picture, with Mollie's face +and head, was a great favorite of his. + +"Yes," he said, standing opposite to it, with his hands in his pockets, +and critical appreciation in his eyes. "You could not very well mistake +it. Heads are not my exact forte, you know; but that is Mollie to a tint +and a curve, and I am rather proud of it." + +Chandos regarded it steadfastly. + +"And well you may be," he answered. "Your sister, I believe?" + +"Mollie!" exclaimed Phil, stepping a trifle aside, to get into a better +light, and speaking almost abstractedly. "Oh, yes, to be sure! She is my +sister,--the youngest. There are three of them. That flesh tint is one +of the best points." + +And in the meantime, while this apparently trivial conversation was +being carried on in the studio, Mollie, in the parlor, had settled +herself upon a stool close to the fire, and, resting her chin on her +hand and her elbow on her knee, was looking reflective. + +"That Chandos is somebody new," 'Toinette remarked. "I hope he has come +to buy something. I want some gold sleeve-loops for Tod. I saw some +beauties the other day, when I was out." + +"But you could n't afford them if Phil sold two pictures instead of +one," said Aime. "There are so many other useful things you need." + +"He is n't a stranger to me," put in Mollie, suddenly. "I have seen him +before." + +"Who?" said 'Toinette. She was thinking more of Tod's gold sleeve-loops +than of anything else. + +"This Mr. Chandos," answered Mollie, without looking up from the fire. +"I saw him at Brabazon Lodge the night I went to take Dolly her dress. +He was with Mr. Gowan, and I dropped my glove, and he picked it up for +me. I was coming out as they were going in." + +"I wonder," said Aime, "whether Mr. Gowan goes to Brabazon Lodge +often?" + +"I don't know, I 'm sure," answered Mollie, shrugging her shoulder. +"How is one to learn? He would n't be likely to tell us. I should think, +though, that he does. He is too fond of Dolly"--with a slight choke in +her voice--"to stay away, if he can help it." + +"It's queer," commented 'Toinette, "how men like Dolly. She is n't a +beauty, I 'm sure; and for the matter of that, when her hair is n't done +up right, she is n't even pretty." + +"It isn't queer, at all," said Mollie, rather crossly; "it's her way. +She can make such a deal out of nothing, and she does n't stand at +trouble when she wants to _make_ people like her. _She_ says any one can +do it, and it is only a question of patience; but I don't believe her. +See how frantic Griffith is about her. He is more desperately in love +with her to-day than he was at the very first, seven years ago." + +"And she cares more for him, I'm sure," said Aime. + +Mollie's shoulder went up again. "She flirts with people enough, if she +does," she commented. + +"Ah!" returned Aime, "that is 'her way,' as you call it, again. +Somehow, it seems as if she can't help it. It is as natural to her as +the color of her hair and eyes. She can't help doing odd things and +making speeches that rouse people and tempt them into liking her. She +has done such things all her life, and sometimes I think she will do +them even when she is an old woman; though, of course, she will do them +in a different way. Dolly would n't be Dolly without her whimsicalness, +any more than Dick there, in his cage, would be a canary if he did n't +twitter and sing." + +"Does she ever do such things to women?" asked Miss Mollie, shrewdly. +She seemed to be in a singular mood this afternoon. + +"Yes," Aime protested, "she does; and what is more, she is not +different even with children. I have seen her take just as much trouble +to please Phemie and the little Bilberrys as she would take to please +Griffith or--or Mr. Gowan. And see how fond they were of her. If she had +cared for nothing but masculine admiration, do you think Phemie would +have adored her as she did, and those dull children would have been so +desolate when she left them? No, I tell you. Dolly's weakness--and +it isn't such a very terrible weakness, after all--lies in wanting +_everybody_ to like her,--men, women, and children; yes, down to babies +and dogs and cats. And see here, Mollie, ain't we rather fond of her +ourselves?" + +"Yes," owned Mollie, staring at the fire, "we are. Fond enough." + +"And is n't she rather fond of us?" + +"Yes, she is--for the matter of that," acquiesced Mollie. + +"Yes," began 'Toinette, and then, the sound of footsteps upon the +staircase interrupting her, she broke off abruptly to listen. "It is +Phil's visitor," she said. + +Mollie got up from her seat, roused into a lazy sort of interest. + +"I am going to look at him," she said, and went to the window. + +The next minute she drew back, blushing. + +"He saw me," she said. "I did n't think he could, if I stood here in the +corner." + +But he had; and more than that, in his admiration of her dimples and +round fire-flushed cheeks, had smiled into her face, openly and without +stint, as he passed. + +After tea Gowan came in. Mollie opened the door for him; and Mollie, in +a soft blue dress, and with her hair dressed to a marvel, was a vision +to have touched any man's fancy. She was in one of her sweet acquiescent +moods, too, having recovered herself since the afternoon; and when she +led him into the parlor, she blushed without any reason whatever, as +usual, and as a consequence looked enchanting. + +"Phil has gone out," she said. "'Toinette is putting Tod to bed, and +Aime is helping her; so there is no one here but me." + +Gowan sat down--in Dolly's favorite chair. + +"You are quite enough," he said; "quite enough--for me." + +She turned away, making a transparent little pretence of requiring a +hand-screen from the mantelpiece, and, having got it, she too sat down, +and fell to examining a wretched little daub of a picture upon it most +minutely. + +"This is very badly done," she observed, irrelevantly. "Dolly did it, +and made it up elaborately into this screen because it was such a sight. +It is just like Dolly, to make fun and joke at her own mistakes. She has +n't a particle of talent for drawing. She did this once when Griffith +thought he was going to get into something that would bring him money +enough to allow of their being married. She made a whole lot of little +mats and things to put in their house when they got it, but Griffith did +n't get the position, so they had to settle down again." + +"Good Heavens!" ejaculated Gowan. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +He moved a trifle uneasily in his chair. He had not meant to speak +aloud. + +"An unintentional outburst, Mollie," he said. "A cheerful state of +affairs, that." + +"What state of affairs?" she inquired. "Oh, you mean Dolly's engagement. +Well, of course, it _has_ been a long one; but then, you see, they like +each other very much. Aime was only saying this afternoon that they +cared for each other more now than they did at first." + +"Do they?" said Gowan, and for the time being lapsed into silence. + +"It's a cross-grained sort of fortune that seems to control us in this +world, Mollie," he said, at length. + +Mollie stared at the poor little daub on her hand-screen and met his +philosophy indifferently enough. + +"_You_ ought n't to say so," she answered. "And I don't know anything +about it." + +He laughed--quite savagely for so amiable a young man. + +"I!" he repeated. "I ought not to say so, ought n't I? I think I ought. +It _is_ a cross-grained fortune, Mollie. We are always falling in love +with people who do not care for us, or with people who care for some one +else, or with people who are too poor to marry us, or--" + +"Speak for yourself," said Mollie, with a vigor quite wonderful and new +in her. "_I_ am not." + +And she held her screen up between her face and his, so that he could +not see her. She could have burst into a passionate gush of tears. It +was Dolly he was thinking about,--it was Dolly who had the power to make +him unhappy and sardonic,--always Dolly. + +"Then you are a wise child, Mollie," he said. "But you are a very young +child yet,--only seventeen, is n't it? Well, it may all come in good +time." + +"It will not come at all," she asserted, stubbornly. + +Dolly's little wretch of a hand-screen was quite trembling in her hand, +it made her so desperate to feel, as she did, that she was of such small +consequence to him that he could treat her as a child, and make a sort +of joke of his confidence. But he did not see it. + +"Ah! well, you see," he went on, "I thought so once, but it has come to +me nevertheless. The fact is, I am crying for the moon, Mollie, as many +a wiser and better man has done before me." + +She did not answer, so he rose and walked once or twice across the room. +When he came back to the fire, she had risen too, and was standing up, +biting the edge of her screen, all flushed, and with a brightness in +her eyes he did not understand. Poor little soul! she was suffering very +sharply in her childish way. + +He laid a hand on either of her shoulders, and spoke to her gently +enough. + +"Mollie," he said, "let us sit down together and condole with each +other. You are not in a good humor to-night, something has rasped +you again; and as for me, I am about as miserable, my dear, as it is +possible for a man with a few thousand a year to be." + +She tried to answer him steadily, and, finding she could not, rushed +into novel subterfuge. Subterfuge was a novelty to Mollie. + +"Yes," she said, lifting the most beauteous of tear-wet eyes to his +quite eagerly. "Yes, I am crossed, and--and something has vexed me. I am +getting bad-tempered, I think. Suppose we do sit down." + +And then when they did sit down--she on the hearth-rug at his feet, he +in Dolly's chair again--she broke out upon him in a voice like a sharp +little sob. + +"I know what _you_ are miserable about," she said. "You are miserable +about Dolly." + +They had never spoken about the matter openly before, though he had +always felt that if he could speak openly to any one, he could to this +charming charge of his. Such is the keenness of masculine penetration. +And now he felt almost relieved already. The natural craving for +sympathy of some kind or other was to satisfy itself through the medium +of pretty, much-tried Mollie. + +"Yes," he answered, half desperately, half reluctantly. "Dolly is the +moon I am crying for,--or rather, as I might put it more poetically, +'the bright particular star.' What a good little thing you are to guess +at it so soon!" + +"It did n't need much guessing at," she said, curving her innocent mouth +in a piteous effort to smile. + +He, leaning against the round, padded back of his chair, sighed, and as +he sighed almost forgot the poor child altogether, even while she spoke +to him. Having all things else, he must still cry for this one other +gift, and really he felt very dolorous. + +Mollie, pulling her screen to pieces, looked at him with a heavy yet +adoring heart. She was young enough to be greatly moved by his physical +beauty, and just now she could not turn away from him. His long-limbed, +slender figure (which, while still graceful and lithe enough, was _not_ +a model of perfection, as she fondly imagined), his pale, dark face, +his dark eyes, even his rather impolite and uncomplimentary abstraction, +held fascination for her. Not having been greatly smiled upon by +fortune, she had fallen to longing eagerly and fearfully for this one +gift which had been so freely vouchsafed to Dolly, who had neither asked +nor cared for it. Surely there was some cross-grained fate at work. + +She was very quiet indeed when he at length recollected himself and +roused from his reverie. He looked up to find her resting her warm, +rose-leaf colored cheek on her hand, and concentrating all her attention +upon the fire again. She was not inclined to talk when he spoke to her, +and indeed had so far shrunk within herself that he found it necessary +to exert his powers to their utmost before he could move her to anything +like interest in their usual topics of conversation. In fact, her +reserve entailed the necessity of a little hazardous warmth of manner +being exhibited on his part, and in the end a few more dangerous, +though half-jocular, speeches were made, and in spite of the temporary +dissatisfaction of his previous mood, he felt a trifle reluctant to +leave the fire and the sweet, unwise face when the time came to go. + +"Good-night," he said to her, a few minutes before he went out. And +then, noticing for the twentieth time how becoming the soft blue of +her dress was and how picturesque she was herself even in the +unconsciousness of her posture, he was tempted to try to bring that +little, half-resentful glow into her upraised eyes again. + +"I have often heard your sister make indiscreetly amiable speeches to +you, Mollie," he said. "Did she ever tell you that you ought to have +been born a sultana?" + +She shook her head and pouted a little. + +"I should n't like to be a sultana," she said. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Not a sultana in spangled slippers and gorgeous +robes!" + +"No," she answered, with a spice of Dolly in her speech. "The slippers +are great flat things that turn up at the toes, and the sultan might buy +me for so much a pound, and--and I care for other things besides dress." + +"Nevertheless," he returned, "you would have made a dazzling sultana." + +Then he went away and left her, and she sat down upon her stool before +the fire again and began to pull her hair down and let it hang in grand +disorder about her shoulders and over her face. + +"If I am so--so pretty," she said slowly, to herself, "people ought to +like me, and," sagaciously, "I must be pretty or he would not say so." + +And when she went to her room it must be confessed that she crept to the +glass and stared at the reflection of the face framed in the abundant, +falling hair, until Aime, wondering at her quietness, raised her head +from her pillow, and, seeing her, called her to her senses. + +"Mollie," she said, in her quietest way, "you look very nice, my dear +and very picturesque, and I don't wonder at your admiring yourself; +but if you stand there much longer in your bare feet you will have +influenza, and then you will have to wear a flannel round your throat, +and your nose will be red, and you won't derive much satisfaction from +your looking-glass for a week to come." + + + +CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + +"SOMETHING," announced Phil, painting away industriously at his +picture,--"something is up with Grif. Can any of you explain what it +is?" + +Mollie, resting her elbows on the window-ledge, turned her head over +her shoulder; 'Toinette, tying Tod's sleeves with red ribbon, looked +up; Aime went on with her sewing, the two little straight lines making +themselves visible on her forehead between her eyebrows. The fact of +something being "up" with any one of their circle was enough to create a +wondering interest. + +"There is no denying," Phil proceeded, "that he is changed somehow or +other. He is not the same fellow that he was a few months ago,--before +Dolly went away." + +"It is Dolly he is bothering about," said Mollie, concisely. + +Then Aime was roused. + +"I wish they were married," she said. "I wish they were married +and--safe!" + +"Safe!" put in Mrs. Phil. "That is a queer thing to say. They are not in +any danger, let us devoutly hope." + +The two wrinkles deepened, and the wise one sighed. + +"I hope not," she answered, bending her small, round, anxious face over +her sewing, and attacking it vigorously. + +"They never struck me, you know," returned Mrs. Phil, "as being a +particularly dangerous couple, though now I think of it I do remember +that it has once or twice occurred to me that Griffith has been rather +stupid lately." + +"It has occurred to me," remarked Phil, dryly, "that he has taken a most +unaccountable dislike to Gowan." + +Mollie turned round to her window again. + +"Not to put it too strongly," continued the head of the family, "he +hates him like the deuce." + +And he was not far wrong in making the assertion. The time had been +coming for some time when the course of this unimposing story of true +love was no longer to run smooth, and in these days Griffith was in a +dangerous frame of mind. Now and then he heard of Gowan dropping in to +spend a few hours at Brabazon Lodge, and now and then he heard of his +good fortune in having found in Miss MacDowlas a positive champion. He +was even a favorite with her, just as he was a favorite with many other +people. Griffith did not visit Brabazon Lodge himself, he had given +that up long ago, indeed had only once paid his respects to his relative +since her arrival in London. That one visit, short and ceremonious as it +was, had been enough for him. Like many estimable ladies, Miss MacDowlas +had prejudices of her own which were hard to remove, and appearances had +been against her nephew. + +"If he is living a respectable life, and so engaged in a respectable +profession, my dear," commented Dolly's proprietress, in one of her +after conversations on the subject, "why does he look shabby and out at +elbows? It is my opinion that he is a very disreputable young man." + +"She thinks," wrote Dolly to the victim, "that you waste your substance +in riotous living." And it was such an exquisite satire on the true +state of affairs, that even Griffith forgot his woes for the moment, and +laughed when he read the letter. + +Dolly herself was not prone to complain of Miss MacDowlas. She was not +so bad as she looked, after all. She was obstinate and rigid enough +on some points, but she had her fairer side, and Dolly found it. In a +fashion of her own Miss MacDowlas was rather fond of her companion. +A girl who was shrewd, industrious, and often amusing, was not to be +despised in her opinion; so she showed her fair young handmaiden a +certain amount of respect. She had engaged companions before, who +being entertaining were not trustworthy, or being trustworthy were +insufferably dull. She could trust Dolly with the most onerous of her +domestic or social charges, she found, and there was no fear of her +small change disappearing or her visitors being bored. So the position +of that "young person" became an assured and decently comfortable one. + +But, day by day, Griffith was drifting nearer and nearer the old shoals +of difficulty. He rasped himself with miserable imaginings, and was +often unjust even toward Dolly. Hers was the brighter side of the +matter, he told himself. + +She was sure to find friends,--she always did, these people would make +a sort of favorite of her, and she would be pleased because she was +so popular among them. He could not bear the thought of her ephemeral +happiness over trifles sometimes. He even fell so low as that at +his worst moments, though to his credit, be it spoken, he was always +thoroughly ashamed of himself afterward. There were times, too, when +he half resented her little jokes at their poverty, and answered them +bitterly when he wrote his replies to her letters. His chief consolation +he found in Aime, and the sage of the family found her hands fuller +than ever. Quiet little body as she was, she was far-sighted enough to +see danger in the distance, and surely she did her best to alter its +course. + +"If you are not cooler," she would say, "you will work yourself into +such a fever of unhappiness, that you will be doing something you will +regret." + +"That is what I am afraid of," he would sometimes burst forth; "but you +must admit, Aime, that it is a pretty hard case." + +"Yes," confessed the young oracle, "I will admit that, but being +unreasonable won't make it any easier." + +And then the fine little lines would show themselves, and she would set +herself industriously to the task of administering comfort and practical +advice, and she never failed to cheer him a little, however temporarily. + +And she did not fail Dolly, either. Sage axioms and praiseworthy counsel +reached Brabazon Lodge in divers small envelopes, addressed to Miss +Crewe, and invariably beginning, "My dearest Dolly;" and more than once +difficulty had been averted, and Dolly's heart warmed again toward her +lover, when she had been half inclined to rebel and exhibit some slight +sharpness of temper. Only a few days after the conversation with which +the present chapter opens occurred, one of these modestly powerful +missives was forwarded, and that evening Griffith met with an agreeable +surprise. Chance had taken him into the vicinity of Miss MacDowlas's +establishment, and as he walked down the deserted road in a somewhat +gloomy frame of mind, he became conscious suddenly of the sound of +small, light feet, running rapidly down the footpath behind him. + +"Griffith!" cried a clear, softly pitched voice, "Griffith, wait for +me." + +And, turning, he saw in the dusk of the winter day a little figure +almost flying toward him, and in a few seconds more Dolly was standing +by him, laughing and panting, and holding to his arm with both hands. + +"I thought I should never catch you," she said. "You never walked so +fast in your life, I believe, you stupid old fellow. I could n't call +out loud, though it is a quiet place, and so I had to begin to run. +Goodness! what _would_ Lady Augusta have said if she had seen me flying +after you!" + +And then, stopping all at once, she looked up at him with a wicked +little air of saucy daring. + +"Don't you want to kiss me?" she said. "You may, if you will endeavor to +effect it with despatch before somebody comes." + +She was obliged to resign herself to her fate then. For nearly two +minutes she found herself rendered almost invisible, and neither of them +spoke. Then half released, she lifted her face to look at him, and +there were tears on her eyelashes, and in her voice, too, though she was +trying very hard to smile. + +"Poor old fellow," she half whispered. "Has it seemed long since you +kissed me last?" + +He caught her to his breast again in his old, impetuous fashion. + +"Long!" he groaned. "It has seemed so long that there have been times +when it has almost driven me mad. O Dolly! Dolly!" + +She let him crush her in his arms and kiss her again, and she nestled +against his shoulder for a minute, and, putting her warm little gloved +hand up to his face, gave it a tiny, loving squeeze. But of course that +could not last long. Miss Macdowlas's companion might be kissed in the +dusk two or three times, but, genteelly sequestered as was the road +leading to Brabazon Lodge, some stray footman or housemaid might appear +on the scene, from some of the neighboring establishments, at any +moment, so she was obliged to draw herself away at last. + +"There!" she said, "you must let me take your arm and walk on now, and +you must tell me all about things. I have a few minutes to spare, and I +have _so_ wanted you," heaving a weary little sigh, and holding his arm +very tightly indeed. + +"Dolly," he asked, abruptly, "are you sure of that?" + +The other small hand clasped itself across his sleeve in an instant. + +"Sure?" she answered. "Sure that I have wanted you? I have been nearly +_dying_ for you!" with some affectionate extravagance. + +"Are you sure," he put it to her, "quite sure that you have not +sometimes forgotten me for an hour or so?" + +"No," she answered, indignantly, "not for a single second;" which was a +wide assertion. + +"Not," he prompted her, somewhat bitterly, "when the MacDowlas gives +dinner-parties, and you find yourself a prominent feature, 'young +person,' as you are? Not when you wear the white merino, and 'heavy +swells' admire you openly?" + +"No," shaking her head in stout denial of the imputation. "Never. +I think about you from morning until night; and the fact is," in a +charming burst of candor, "I actually wake in the night and think about +you. There! are you satisfied now?" + +It would have been impossible to remain altogether unconsoled and +unmoved under such circumstances, but he could not help trying her +again. + +"Dolly," he said, "does Gowan never make you forget me?" + +Then she saw what he meant, and flushed up to her forehead, drawing her +hand away and speaking hotly. + +"Oh!" she said, "it is _that_, is it?" + +"Yes," he answered her, "it is that." + +Then they stopped in their walk, and each looked at the other,--Griffith +at Dolly, with a pale face and much of desperate, passionate appeal in +his eyes; Dolly at Griffith, with her small head thrown back in sudden +defiance. + +"I am making you angry and rousing you, Dolly," he said; "but I cannot +help it. There is scarcely a week passes in which I do not hear that +he--that fellow--has managed to see you in one way or another. He can +always see you," savagely. "_I_ don't see you once a month." + +"Ah!" said Dolly, with cruel deliberation, "_this_ is what Aime meant +when she told me to be careful, and think twice before I did things. I +see now." + +I have never yet painted Dolly Crewe as being a young person of angelic +temperament. I have owned that she flirted and had a temper in spite of +her Vagabondian good spirits, good-nature, and popularity; so my +readers will not be surprised at her resenting rather sharply what she +considered as being her lover's lack of faith. + +"I think," she proceeded, opening her eyes wide and addressing him with +her grandest air,--"I think I will walk the rest of my way alone, if you +please." + +It was very absurd and very tragical in a small way, of course, and +assuredly she ought to have known better, and perhaps she did know +better, but just now she was very fierce and very sharply disappointed. +She positively turned away as if to leave him, but he caught hold of her +arm and held her. + +"Dolly," he cried, huskily, "you are not going away in that fashion. We +never parted so in our lives." + +She half relented,--not quite, but nearly, so very nearly that she +did not try very hard to get away. It was Griffith, after all, who was +trying her patience--if Gowan or any other man on earth had dared to +imply a doubt in her, she would have routed him magnificently--in two +minutes; but Griffith--ah, well, Griffith was different. + +"Whose fault is it?" she asked, breaking down ignominiously. "Who is +to blame? I never ask you if other people make you forget me. I wanted +to--to see you so much that I--I ran madly after you for a quarter of a +mile, at the risk of being looked upon as a lunatic by any one who might +have chanced to see me. But you don't care for that. I had better have +bowed to you and passed on if we had met. Let me go!" + +"No," said Griffith, "you shall not go. God knows if I could keep you, +you should never leave my arms again." + +"You would tire of me in a week, if I belonged to you in real earnest," +she said, not trying to get away at all now, however. + +"Tire of you!" he exclaimed, in a shaken voice. "Of _you!_" And all at +once he drew her round so that the light of the nearest lamp could fall +on her face. "Look here!" he whispered, sharply; "Dolly, I swear to you, +that if there lives a man on earth base and heartless enough to rob me +of you, I will kill him as sure as I breathe the breath of life!" + +She had seen him impassioned enough often before, but she had never seen +him in as wild a mood as he was when he uttered these words. She was so +frightened that she broke into a little cry, and put her hand up to his +lips. + +"Griffith!" she said, "Grif!--dear old fellow. You don't know what you +are saying. Oh! don't--don't!" + +Her horror brought him to his senses again; but he had terrified her +so that she was trembling all over, and clung to him nervously when he +tried to console her. + +"It is n't like _you_ to speak in such a way," she faltered, in the +midst of her tears. "Oh, how dreadfully wrong things must be getting, to +make you so cruel!" + +It took so long a time to reassure and restore her to her calmness, that +he repented his rashness a dozen times. But he managed to comfort her at +length, though to the last she was tearful and dejected, and her voice +was broken with soft, sorrowful little catchings of the breath. + +"Don't let us talk about Ralph Gowan," she pleaded, when he +had persuaded her to walk on with him again. "Let us talk about +ourselves,--we are always safe when we talk about ourselves," with an +innocent, mournful smile. + +And so they talked about themselves. He would have talked of anything +on earth to please her then. Talking of themselves, of course, implied +talking nonsense,--affectionate, sympathetic nonsense, but still +nonsense; and so, for a while, they strolled on together, and were as +tenderly foolish and disconnected as two people could possibly be. + +But, in spite of her resolution to avoid the subject, Dolly could not +help drifting back to Ralph Gowan. "Griffith," she said, plaintively, +"you are very jealous of him." + +"I know that," he answered. + +"But don't you _know_," in desperate appeal, "that there is n't the +slightest need for you to be jealous of anybody?" + +"I know," he returned, dejectedly, "that I am a very wretched fellow +sometimes." + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Dolly. + +"I know," he went on, "that seven years is a long probation, and that +the prospect of another seven, or another two, for the matter of that, +would drive me mad. I know I am growing envious and distrustful; I +know that there are times when I hate that fellow so savagely that I am +ashamed of myself. Dolly, what has he ever done that he should saunter +on the sunny side, clad in purple and fine linen all his life? The money +he throws away in a year would furnish the house at Putney." + +"Oh, dear!" burst forth Dolly. "You _are_ going wrong. It is all because +I am not there to take care of you, too. Those are not the sentiments of +Vagabondia, Grif." + +"No," dryly; "they are of the earth, earthy." + +Dolly shook her head dolefully. + +"Yes," she acquiesced; "and they are a bit shabby, too. You are going +down, Grif. You never used to be shabby. None of us were ever exactly +that, though we used to grumble sometimes. We used to grumble, not +because other people had things, but because we had n't them." + +"I am getting hardened, I suppose," bitterly. "And it is hardly to be +wondered at." + +"Hardened!" She stopped him that moment, and stood before him, holding +his arm and looking up at him. "Hardened!" she repeated. "Grif, if you +say that again, I will never forgive you. What is the good of our love +for each other if it won't keep our hearts soft? When we get hardened we +shall love each other no longer. What have we told each other all these +years? Have n't we said that so long as we had one another we could bear +anything, and not envy other people? It was n't all talk and sentiment, +was it? It was n't on _my_ part, Grif. I meant it then, and I mean it +now, though I know there are many good, kind-hearted people in the world +who would not understand it, and would say I was talking unpractical +rubbish, if they heard me. Hardened! Grif, while you have me, and I have +you, and there is nothing on our two consciences? Why, it sounds,"--with +another most dubious shake of her small head,--"it sounds as if you +would n't care about the house at Putney!" + +He was conquered, of course; before she had spoken a dozen words he +had been conquered; but this figure of his not caring for the house at +Putney broke him utterly. He did not look very hardened when he answered +her. + +"Dolly," he said, "you are an angel! I have told you so before, and it +may be a proof of the barrenness of my resources to tell you so again, +but it is true. God forgive me, my precious! I should like to see the +man whose heart could harden while such a woman loved him." + +It was a pretty sight to see her put her hands on his shoulders, and +stand on tiptoe to kiss him, in her honest, earnest way, without waiting +for him to ask her. + +"Ah!" she said, "I knew it wasn't true," and then, still letting her +hands rest on his shoulders, she burst forth in her tender, impulsive +way again. "Grif," she said, "I don't think I am very wise, and I know +I am not very thoughtful. I do things often that it would be better +to leave undone,--I am fond of making the Philistines admire me, and I +sometimes tease you; but, dear old fellow, right deep down at the bottom +of my heart," faltering slightly, "I do--_do_ want to be a good +woman; and there is never a night passes--though I never told you so +before--that I do not pray to God to let me help you and let you help me +to be tender and faithful and true." + +It was the old story,--love was king. Wisdom to the winds! Practicality +to the corners of the earth! Prudence, power, and grandeur, hide your +diminished heads! Here were two people who cared nothing for you, and +who flung you aside without a fear as they stood together under the +trees in the raw evening air,--one a penniless little hired entertainer +of elderly ladies, the other an equally impecunious bondsman in a dingy +office. + +They were quite happy,--even happy when time warned them that they must +bid each other goodnight. They walked together to the gates of Barbazon +Lodge, and parted in a state of bliss. + +"Good-night," said Dolly. "Be good,--as somebody wise once said,--'Be +good, and you will be happy.'" + +"Good-night," answered Griffith; "but might n't he have put it the other +way, Dolly, 'Be happy, and you will be good--because you can't help +it'?" + +He had his hand on _her_ shoulder, this time, and as she laughed she put +her face down so that her soft, warm cheek nestled against it. + +"But he didn't put it that way," she objected. "And we must take wisdom +as it comes. There! I must go now," rather in a hurry. "Some one is +coming--see!" + +"Confound it!" he observed, devoutly. "Who is it?" + +"I don't know," answered Dolly; "but you must let me go. Good-night, +again." + +He released her, and she ran in through the gate, and up the gravel +walk, and so he was left to turn away and pass the intruder with an +appearance of nonchalance. And pass him he did, though whether with +successful indifference or not, one can hardly say; but in passing him +he looked up, and in looking up he recognized Ralph Gowan. + +"Going to see her," he said, to himself, just as poor Mollie had said +the same thing, and just with the same heartburn. "The dev--But, no," he +broke off sharply, "I won't begin again. It is as she says,--the blessed +little darling!--it is shabby to be down on him because he has the best +of it." And he went on his way, not rejoicing, it is true, but still +trying to crush down a by no means unnatural feeling of rebellion. + + + +CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + +THE wise one sat at the window and looked out. The view commanded by +Bloomsbury Place was not a specially imposing or attractive one. Four +or five tall, dingy houses with solitary scrubby shrubs in their small +front slips of low-spirited looking gardens, four or five dingy and +tall houses without the scrubby shrubs in their small front slips of +low-spirited looking gardens, rows of Venetian blinds of various shades, +and one or two lamp-posts,--not much to enliven the prospect. + +The inhabitants of the houses in Bloomsbury Place were not prone to +sitting at their front windows, accordingly; but this special afternoon, +the weather being foggy, Aime finding herself alone in the parlor, had +left the fire just to look at this same fog, though it was by no means a +novelty. The house was very quiet. 'Toinette was out, and so was +Mollie, and Tod was asleep, lying upon a collection of cushions on the +hearth-rug, with two fingers in his mouth, his round baby face turned up +luxuriously to catch the warmth. + +The wise one was waiting for Mollie, who had gone out a few hours before +to execute divers commissions of a domestic nature. + +"She might have been back in half the time," murmured the family sage, +who sat on the carpet, flattening her small features against the glass. +"She might have done what she has to do in _less_ than half the time, +but I knew how it would be when she went out. She is looking in at the +shop windows and wishing for things. I wish she would n't. People stare +at her so, and I don't wonder. I am sure I cannot help watching her +myself, sometimes. She grows prettier every day of her life, and she is +beginning to know that she does, too." + +Five minutes after this the small face was drawn away from the +window-pane with a sigh of relief. + +"There she is now. What a time she has been! Who is with her, I wonder? +I cannot see whether it is Phil or Mr. Gowan, it is getting so dark. It +must be Mr. Gowan. 'Toinette would be with them if it was Phil." + +"Why, Mollie," she exclaimed, when the door opened, "I saw somebody with +you, and I thought it was Mr. Gowan. Why did n't he come in? Don't waken +Tod." + +Mollie came in rather hurriedly, and going to the fire knelt down before +it, holding out her hands to warm them. Her cheeks were brilliant with +color and her eyes were bright; altogether, she looked a trifle excited. + +"It was n't Mr. Gowan," she answered. "Ugh! how cold it is,--not frosty, +you know, but that raw sort of cold, Aime. I would rather have the +frost myself, would n't you?" + +But Aime was not thinking of the weather. + +"Not Mr. Gowan!" she ejaculated. "Who was it, then?" + +Mollie crept nearer to the fire and gave another little shudder. + +"It was--somebody else," she returned, with a triumphant little +half-laugh. "Guess who!" + +"Who!" repeated Aime. "Somebody else! It was not any one I know." + +"It was somebody Phil knows." + +The wise one arose and came to the fire herself. + +"It was some one taller than Brown!" + +"Brown!" echoed Mollie, with an air of supreme contempt. "He is _twice_ +as tall. Brown is only about five feet high, and he wears an overcoat +ten times too big for him, and it flaps--yes, it _flaps_ about +his odious little heels. I should think it wasn't Brown. It was a +gentleman." + +The wise one regarded her pretty, scornful face dubiously. + +"Brown is n't so bad as all that implies, Mollie," she said. "His coat +is the worst part of him. But if it was n't Brown and it was n't Mr. +Gowan, who was it?" + +Mollie laughed and shrugged her shoulders again, and then looked up at +her small inquisitor charmingly defiant. + +"It was--Mr. Chandos!" she confessed. + +Aime gazed at her for a moment in blank amazement. + +"But," she objected, "you don't know him any more than I do. You +have only seen him once through the window, and you have never been +introduced to him." + +"I have seen him twice," said Mollie. "Don't you recollect my telling +you that he picked up my glove for me the night I carried Dolly's dress +to Bra-bazon Lodge, and," faltering a little and dropping her eyes, "he +introduced himself to me. He met me in town. I was passing through the +Arcade, and he stopped to ask about Phil. He apologized, of course, you +know, for doing it, but he said he was very anxious to know when Phil +would be at home, and--and perhaps I would be so kind as to tell him. He +wants to see him about a picture. And--then, you know, somehow or other, +he said something else, and--and I answered him--and he walked to the +gate with me." + +"He took a great liberty," said Aime. "And it was very imprudent in you +to let him come. I don't know what you could be thinking of. The idea of +picking up people in the street like that, Mollie; you must be crazy." + +"I could n't help it," returned Mollie, not appearing at all disturbed. +"He knows Phil and he knows Dolly--a little. And he is very nice. He +wants to know us all. And he says Mr. Gowan is one of his best friends. +I liked him myself." + +"I dare say you did," despairingly. "You are such a child. You would +like the man in the moon or a Kaffre chief--" + +"That is not true," interposed the delinquent. "I don't know about +the man in the moon. He might be well enough--at any rate, he would +be travelled and a novelty, but Kaffre chiefs are odious. Don't you +remember those we saw last winter?" + +"Mollie," said Aime, "you are only jesting because you are ashamed of +yourself. You _know_ you were wrong to let that man come home with you." + +Then Mollie hung her head and made a lovely rebellious move. + +"I don't care," she said; "if it was n't exactly correct, it was nice. +But that is always the way," indignantly, "nice things are always +improper." + +Here was a defection for you. The oracle quite shuddered in her discreet +disapproval. + +"If you go on in that way," she said, "you will be ending by saying that +improper things are always nice." + +"Never mind how I end," observed the prisoner at the bar. "You have +ended by wakening Tod;" which remark terminated the conversation +somewhat abruptly. + +A day or so later came Chandos--upon business, so he said, but he +remained much longer than his errand rendered necessary, and by some +chance or other it came to pass that Phil brought him into the parlor, +and introduced him to their small circle, in his usual amiable, informal +manner. Then he was to be seen fairly, and prepossessing enough he was. +Mollie, sitting in her corner in the blue dress, and looking exquisite +and guileless, was very demurely silent at first; but in due time Aime +began to see that she was being gradually drawn out, and at last the +drawing out was such a success, subtle as it was, that she became quite +a prominent feature in the party, and made so many brilliant speeches +without blushing, that the family eyes began to be opened to the fact +that she was really a trifle older than she had been a few years ago, +after all. The idea had suggested itself to them faintly on one or two +occasions of late, and they were just beginning to grasp it, though +they were fully as much startled as they would have been if Tod had +unexpectedly roused himself from his infantile slumbers, and mildly but +firmly announced his intention of studying for the ministry or entering +a political contest. + +Aime was dumbfounded. She had not expected this. She was going to have +her hands full, it was plain. She scarcely wondered now at her discovery +of two evenings before. And then she glanced slyly across the room +again, and took it all in once more,--Mollie, bewitching in all the +novelty of her small effort at coquetry; Chandos, leading her on, and +evidently enjoying the task he had set himself intensely. + +It was quite a new Mollie who was left to them after their visitor was +gone. There was a touch of triumph and excitement in the pretty flushed +face, and a ghost of defiance in the brown eyes. She was not quite sure +that young Dame Prudence would not improve the occasion with a short +homily. + +So she was a trifle restless. First she stood at the window humming an +air, then she came to the table and turned over a few sketches, then she +knelt down on pretence of teasing Tod. + +But impulse was too much for her. She forgot Tod in a few minutes +and fell into a sitting position, folding her hands idly on the blue +garment. + +"I knew he would come," she said, abstractedly. Then Dame Prudence +addressed her. + +"Did you?" she remarked. "How did you?" + +She started and blushed up to her ears. + +"How?" she repeated. "Oh, I knew!" + +"Perhaps he told you he would," put in Dame P. "Did he?" + +"Aime," was the rather irrelevant reply, rather suddenly made, "do you +like him?" + +"I never judge people," primly enunciated, "upon first acquaintance. +First impressions are rarely to be relied upon." + +"That 's a nice speech," in her elder sister's most shockingly flippant +manner, "and it sounds well, but I have heard it before--thousands of +times. People always say it when they want to be specially disagreeable, +and would like to cool you down. There is the least grain of Lady +Augusta in you, Aime." + +"And considering that Lady Augusta is the most unpleasant person we +know, _that_ is a nice speech," returned the oracle. + +"Oh, well, I only said 'a grain,' and a grain is not much." + +"It is quite enough." + +"Well," amiably, "suppose we say half a grain." + +"Suppose we say you are talking nonsense." + +Mollie's air was Dolly's own as she answered her,--people always said +she was like Dolly, despite the fact that Dolly was not a beauty at all. + +"There may be something in that," she said. + +"Suppose we admit it and return to the subject. Do you think he is nice, +Aime?" + +"Do you?" + +"Yes, I do," but without getting rose-colored this time. + +Aime looked at her calmly, but with some quiet scrutiny in her glance. + +"As nice," she put it to her,--"as nice as Ralph Gowan?" + +She grew rose-colored then in an instant up to her ears again and over +them, and she turned her face aside and plucked at the hearth-rug with +nervous fingers. + +"Well?" suggested Aime. + +"He is as handsome and--as tall, and he dresses as well." + +"Do you like him as well?" said Aime. + +"Ye-es--no. I have not known him long enough to tell you." + +"Well," returned Aime, "let me tell you. As I said before, I do not +think it wise to judge people from first impressions, but this I do +know, _I_ don't like him as I like Mr. Gowan, and I never shall. He is +not to be relied upon, that Gerald Chandos; I saw it in his eyes." + +And she set her chin upon her hand, and her small, round, fair face +covered itself all at once with an anxious cloud. + +She kept a quiet watch upon Mollie after this, and in the weeks that +followed she was puzzled, and not only puzzled, but baffled outright +many a time. This first visit of Mr. Gerald Chandos was not his last. +His business brought him again and again, and when the time came that he +had no pretence of business, he was on sufficiently familiar terms with +them all to make calls of pleasure. So he did just as Ralph Gowan had +done, slipped into his groove of friend and acquaintance unobtrusively, +and was made welcome as other people were,--just as any sufficiently +harmless individual would have been under the same circumstances. +There was no dragon of high renown to create social disturbances in +Vagabondia. + +"As long as a man behaves himself, where's the odds?" said Phil; and no +one ever disagreed with him. + +But Mr. Gerald Chandos had not been to the house more than three times +before Aime found cause to wonder. She discovered that Ralph Gowan was +not so enthusiastically attached to him, after all; and furthermore +she had her reasons for thinking that Gowan was rather disturbed at +his advent, and would have preferred that he had not been adopted so +complacently. + +"If Dolly was at home," she said to herself, "I should be inclined to +fancy he was a trifle jealous; and if he cared just a little more for +Mollie, I might think he was jealous; but Dolly is away, and though he +is fond of Mollie, and thinks her pretty, he does n't care for her in +that way exactly, so there must be some other reason. He is not the sort +of person to have likes or dislikes without reason." + +In her own sage style she approved of Ralph Gowan just as she approved +of Griffith. And then, as I have said, Mollie puzzled her. It was +astonishing how the child altered, and how she began to bloom out, and +adopt independent, womanly airs and graces. She took a new and important +position in the household. From her post of observation the wise one +found herself looking on with a smile sometimes, there was such a +freshness in her style of enacting the _rle_ of beauty. She struck +Phil's friends dumb now and then with her conscious power, and the +unhappy Brown suffered himself to be led captive without a struggle. + +"Her 'prentice han' she tried on Brown," Dolly had said, months before, +in a wretched attempt at parody; and certainly the tortures of Brown +were prolonged and varied. But it was her manner toward Chandos that +puzzled Aime. Perhaps she was a trifle proud of his evident +admiration; at all events, she seemed far from averse to it, and the +incomprehensible part of the affair was that sometimes she allowed him +to rival even Ralph Gowan. + +"And yet," commented Aime, "she likes Ralph Gowan better. She never can +help blushing and looking conscious when he comes or when he talks to +her, and she is as cool as Dolly when she finds herself with Chandos. It +is very odd." + +It was not so easy to manage her as it used to be, Ralph Gowan +discovered. She was growing capricious and fanciful, and ready to take +offence. If they were left alone together, she would change her mood +every two minutes. Sometimes she would submit to his old jesting, +gallant speeches quite humbly and shyly for a while, and then she would +flame out all at once in anger, half a woman's and half a child's. He +was inclined to fancy now and then that she had never forgiven him for +his first interference on the subject of Gerald Chandos, for at the +early part of the acquaintance he did interfere, as he had promised +Dolly he would. + +"I am not glad to see that fellow here, Mollie," he had said, the first +night he met him at the house. + +She stood erect before him, with her white throat straight, and a spark +in her eyes. + +"What fellow?" she asked. + +"Chandos," he answered, coolly and briefly. + +"Oh!" she returned. "How is it that when one man dislikes another he +always speaks of him as 'that fellow'? I know some one who always refers +to you as 'that fellow.'" + +"Do you?" dryly, as before. He knew very well whom she meant. + +"_I_ am glad to see 'that fellow' here," she went on. "He is a +gentleman, and he is n't stupid. No one else comes here who is so +amusing. I am tired of Brown & Company." + +"Ah!" he answered, biting his lip. He felt the rebuff, if it was +only Mollie who gave it. "Very well then, if you are tired of Brown & +Company, and would prefer to enter into partnership with Chandos, it is +none of my business, I suppose. I will give you one warning, however, +because I promised your sister to take care of you." Her skin flamed +scarlet at that. "That fellow is not a gentleman exactly, and he is a +very dangerous acquaintance for any woman to make." + +"He is a friend of yours," she interrupted. + +"That is a natural mistake on your part," he replied,--"natural, but +still a mistake. He is _not_ a friend of mine. As I before observed, he +is not exactly a gentleman--not to put too fine a point upon it--from a +moral point of view. We won't discuss the matter further." + +They had parted bad friends that night. Mollie was restive under his +cool decisiveness for various reasons; he was irritated because he felt +he had failed, and had lost ground instead of gaining it. So sometimes +since, he had fancied that she had not wholly forgiven him, and yet +there were times when she was so softly submissive that he felt himself +in some slight danger of being as much touched and as fairly bewitched +as he was when Dolly turned her attention to him. Still she was +frequently far from amiable, and upon more than one occasion he found +her not precisely as polite as she might have been. + +"You are not as amiable, Mollie," he said to her once, "as you used +to be. We were very good friends in the old days. I suppose you are +outgrowing me. I should be afraid to offer you a bunch of camellias now +as a token of my affection." + +He smiled down at her indolently as he said it, and before he had +finished he began to feel uncomfortable. Her eyelids drooped and her +head drooped, and she looked sweetly troubled. + +"I know I am not as good as I used to be," she admitted. "I know it +without being told. Sometimes," very suddenly, "I think I must be +growing awfully wicked." + +"Well," he commented, "at least one must admit that is a promising state +of mind, and augurs well for future repentance." + +She shook her head. + +"No, it doesn't," she answered him, "and that is the bad side of it. I +am getting worse every day of my life." + +"Is it safe," he suggested, cynically,--"is it safe for an innocent +individual to cultivate your acquaintance? Would it not be a good plan +to isolate yourself from society until you feel that the guileless ones +may approach you without fear of contamination? You alarm me." + +She lifted up her head, her eyes flashing. + +"_You_ are safe," she said; "so it is rather premature to cry 'wolf' so +soon." + +"It is very plain that you are outgrowing me," he returned. "Dolly +herself could not have made a more scathing remark." + +But, fond as he was of tormenting her, he did not want to try her +too far, and so he endeavored to make friends. But his efforts at +reconciliation were not a success. She was not to be coaxed into her +sweet mood again; indeed she almost led him to fear that he had wounded +her irreparably by his jests. And yet, when he at last consulted his +watch, and went to the side-table for his hat and gloves, he turned +round to find her large eyes following him in a wistful sort of way. + +"Are you going?" she asked him at length, a half-reluctant appeal in her +voice. + +"I am due at Brabazon Lodge now," he answered. + +She said no more after that, but relapsed into silence, and let him go +without making an effort to detain him, receiving his adieus in her most +indifferent style. + +But she was cross and low-spirited when he was gone, and Aime, coming +into the room with her work, found her somewhat hard to deal with, and +indeed was moved to tell her so. + +"You are a most inexplicable girl, Mollie," she said. "What crotchet is +troubling you now?" + +"No crotchet at all," she answered, and then all at once she got up and +stood before the mantel-glass, looking at herself fixedly. "Aime," she +said, "if you were a man, would you admire me?" + +Aime gave her a glance, and then answered her with sharp frankness. +"Yes, I should," she said. + +She remained standing for a few minutes, taking a survey of herself, +front view, side view, and even craning her pretty throat to get a +glimpse of her back; and then a pettish sigh burst from her, and she sat +down again at her sister's feet, clasping her hands about her knees in a +most unorthodox position. + +"I should like to have a great deal of money," she said after a while, +and she frowned as she said it. + +"That is a startling observation," commented Aime, "and shows great +singularity of taste." + +Mollie frowned again, and shrugged one shoulder, but otherwise gave the +remark small notice. + +"I should like," she proceeded, "to have a carriage, and to live in a +grand house, and go to places. I should like to marry somebody rich." +And having blurted out this last confession, she looked half ashamed of +herself. + +"Mollie," said Aime, solemnly dropping her hands and her work upon her +lap, "I am beginning to feel as Dolly does; I am beginning to be afraid +you are going to get yourself into serious trouble." + +Then this overgrown baby of theirs, who had so suddenly astonished +them all by dropping her babyhood and asserting herself a woman, said +something so startling that the wise one fairly lost her breath. + +"If I cannot get what I want," she said, deliberately, "I will take what +I can get." + +"You are going out of your mind," ejaculated Aime. + +"It does n't matter if I am," cried the romantic little goose, +positively crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and +flinging herself upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,--"it does n't +matter if I am. Who cares for _me_?" + + + +CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + +THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her +small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject +revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the +parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely +announcing her intention of going to see Dolly. + +"What are you going for?" said Mrs. Phil. + +"Rather sudden, is n't it?" commented Mollie. + +"I 'm going on business," returned Aime, and she buttoned her gloves +and took her departure, without enlightening them further. + +Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss MacDowlas out and Dolly +sitting alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and +tears in her eyes. + +Her visitor walked to the hearth, her face wrinkling portentously, and +kissed her with an air of affectionate severity. + +"I don't know," she began, comprehending matters at a glance, "I am sure +I don't know what I am to do with you all. _You_ are in trouble now." + +"Take off your things," said Dolly, with a helpless little sob, +"and--and then I will tell you all about it. You must stay and have +tea with me. Miss MacDowlas is away, and I--am all alone, and--and, O +Aime!" + +The hat and jacket were laid aside in two minutes, and Aime came back +to her and knelt down. + +"Is there anything in your letter you do not want me to see?" she asked. + +"No," answered Dolly, in despair, and tossed it into her lap. + +It was no new story, but this time the Fates seemed to have conspired +against her more maliciously than usual. A few days before Grif had +found himself terribly dashed in spirit, and under the influence of +impulse had written to her. Two or three times in one day he had heard +accidental comments upon Gowan's attentions to her, and on his return to +his lodgings at night he had appealed to her in a passionate epistle. + +He was not going to doubt her again, he said, and he was struggling to +face the matter coolly, but he wanted to see her. It would be worse than +useless to call upon her at the Lodge, and have an interview under the +disapproving eyes of Miss MacDowlas, and so he had thought they might +meet again by appointment, as they had done before by chance. And Dolly +had acquiesced at once. But Fortune was against her. Just as she had +been ready to leave the house, Ralph Gowan had made his appearance, and +Miss MacDowlas had called her down-stairs to entertain him. + +"I would not have cared about telling," cried Dolly, in tears, "but I +could not tell her, and so I had to stay, and--actually--_sing_--Aime. +Yes, sing detestable love-sick songs, while my own darling, whom I was +_dying_ to go to, was waiting outside in the cold. And that was not the +worst, either. He was just outside in the road, and when the servants +lighted the gas he saw me through the window. And I was at the +piano"--in a burst--"and Ralph Gowan was standing by me. And so he went +home and wrote _that_," signifying with a gesture the letter Aime held. +"And everything is wrong again." + +It was very plain that everything _was_ wrong again. The epistle in +question was an impetuous, impassioned effusion enough. He was furious +against Gowan, and bitter against everybody else. She had cheated and +slighted and trifled with him when he most needed her love and pity; but +he would not blame her, he could only blame himself for being such an +insane, presumptuous fool as to fancy that anything he had to offer +could be worthy of any woman. + +What had he to offer, etc., for half a dozen almost illegible pages, +dashed and crossed, and all on fire with his bitterness and pain. + +Having taken it from Aime, and read it for the twentieth time, Dolly +fairly wrung her hands over it. + +"If we were only just _together!_" she cried. "If we only just had the +tiniest, shabbiest house in the world, and could be married and help +each other! He does n't mean to be unjust or unkind, you know, Aime; he +would be more wretched than I am if he knew how unhappy he has made me." + +"Ah!" sighed Aime. "He should think of that before he begins." + +Then she regained possession of the letter, and smoothed out its creases +on her knee, finishing by folding it carefully and returning it to its +envelope, looking very grave all the time. + +"Will you lend me this?" she said at last, holding the epistle up. + +"What are you going to do with it?" asked Dolly, disconsolately. + +"I am going to ask Griffith to read it again. I shall be sure to see him +to-morrow night." + +"Very well," answered Dolly; "but don't be too hard upon him, Aime. He +has a great deal to bear." + +"I know that," said Aime. "And sometimes he bears it very well; but +just now he needs a little advice." + +Troubled as she was, Dolly laughed at the staid expression on her small, +discreet face; but even as she laughed she caught the child in her arms +and kissed her. + +"What should we do without you!" she exclaimed. "We need some one to +keep us all straight, we Vagabonds; but it seems queer that such a small +wiseacre as you should be our controlling power." + +The mere sight of the small wiseacre had a comforting effect upon her. +Her spirits began to rise, and she so far recovered herself as to be +able to look matters in the face more cheerfully. There was so much +to talk about, and so many questions to ask, that it would have been +impossible to remain dejected and uninterested. It was not until after +tea, however, that Aime brought her "business" upon the carpet. She had +thought it best not to introduce the subject during the earlier part +of the evening; but when the tea-tray was removed, and they found +themselves alone again, she settled down, and applied herself at once to +the work before her. + +"I have not told you yet what I came here for this afternoon," she said. + +"You don't mean to intimate that you did not come to see me!" said +Dolly. + +"I came to see you, of course," decidedly; "but I came to see you for a +purpose. I came to talk to you about Mollie." + +Dolly almost turned pale. + +"Mollie!" she exclaimed. "What is the trouble about Mollie?" + +"Something that puzzles me," was the answer. "Dolly, do you know +anything about Gerald Chandos?" + +"What!" said Dolly. "It is Gerald Chandos, is it? He is not a fit +companion for her, I know that much." + +And then she repeated, word for word, the conversation she had had with +Ralph Gowan. + +Having listened to the end, Aime shook her head. + +"I like Mr. Gowan well enough," she said, "but he has been the cause of +a great deal of trouble among us, without meaning to be, and I am afraid +it is not at an end yet." + +They were both silent for a few moments after this, and then Dolly, +looking up, spoke with a touch of reluctance. + +"I dare say you can answer me a question I should like to ask you?" she +said. + +"If it is about Mollie, I think I can," Aime returned. + +"You have been with her so long," Dolly went on, two tiny lines showing +themselves upon _her_ forehead this time, "and you are so quick at +seeing things, that you must know what there is to know. And yet it +hardly seems fair to ask. Ralph Gowan goes to Bloomsbury Place often, +does he not?" + +"He goes very often, and he seems to care more for Mollie than for any +of the rest of us." + +"Aime," Dolly said next, "does--this is my question--does Mollie care +for him?" + +"Yes, she does," answered Aime. "She cares for him so much that she is +making herself miserable about him." + +"Oh, dear!" cried Dolly. "What--" + +Aime interrupted her. + +"And that is not the worst. The fact is, Dolly, I don't know what to +make of her. If it was any one but Mollie, or if Mollie was a bit less +innocent and impetuous, I should not be so much afraid; but sometimes +she is angry with herself, and sometimes she is angry with him, and +sometimes she is both, and then I should not be surprised at her doing +anything innocent and frantic. Poor child! It is my impression she has +about half made up her mind to the desperate resolve of making a grand +marriage. She said as much the other night, and I think that is why she +encourages Mr. Chandos." + +"Oh, dear," cried Dolly, again. "And does she think he wants to marry +her?" + +"She knows he makes violent love to her, and she is not worldly-wise +enough to know that Lord Burleighs are out of date." + +"Out of date!" said Dolly; "I doubt if they ever were in date. Men like +Mr. Gerald Chandos would hesitate at marrying Venus from Bloomsbury +Place." + +"If it was Ralph Gowan," suggested Aime. + +"But Ralph Gowan is n't like Chandos," Dolly returned, astutely. "He is +worth ten thousand of him. I wish he would fall in love with Mollie and +marry her. Poor Mollie! Poor, pretty, headlong little goose! What are we +to do with her?" + +"Mr. Gowan is very fond of her, in a way," said Aime. "If he did not +care a little for you--" + +"I wish he did not!" sighed Dolly. "But it serves me right," with +candor. "He would never have thought of me again if I--well, if I had +n't found things so dreadfully dull at that Bilberry clan gathering." + +"'If,'" moralized Aime, significantly. "'If' is n't a wise word, and +it often gets you into trouble, Dolly. If you hadn't, it would have been +better for Grif, as well; but what cannot be cured must be endured." + +Their long talk ended, however, in Dolly's great encouragement. It was +agreed that the family oracle was to bring Griffith to his senses by +means of some slight sisterly reproof, and that she was to take Mollie +in hand discreetly at once and persuade her to enter the confessional. + +"She has altered a great deal, and has grown much older and more +self-willed lately," said Aime; "but if I am very straightforward and +take her by surprise, I scarcely think she will be able to conceal much +from me, and, at least, I shall be able to show her that her fancies are +romantic and unpractical." + +She did not waste any time before applying herself to her work, when she +went home. Instead of going to Bloomsbury Place at once, she stopped at +Griffith's lodgings on her way, and rather scandalized his landlady by +requesting to be shown into his parlor. Only the grave simplicity of the +small, slight figure in its gray cloak, and the steadfast seriousness +in the pretty face reconciled the worthy matron to the idea of admitting +her without investigation. But Aime bore her scrutiny very calmly. +The whole family of them had taken tea in the little sitting-room with +Griffith, upon one or two occasions, so she was not at all at a loss, +although she did not find herself recognized. + +"I am one of Mr. Crewe's sisters," she said; and that, of course, +was quite enough. Mrs. Cripps knew Mr. Crewe as well as she knew Grif +himself, so she stepped back into the narrow passage at once, and even +opened the parlor door, and announced the visitor in a way that made +poor Grif s heart beat. + +"One of Mr. Crewe's sisters," she said. + +He had been sitting glowering over the fire, with his head on his hands +and his elbows on his knees, and when he started up he looked quite +haggard and dishevelled. Was it--_could_ it be Dolly? He knew it could +not be, but he turned pale at the thought. It would have been such +rapture, in his present frame of mind, to have poured out his misery and +distrust, and then to have clasped her to his heart before she had +time to explain. He was just in that wretched, passionate, relenting, +remorseful stage. + +But it was only Aime, in her gray cloak; and as the door closed behind +her, that small person advanced toward him, crumpling her white forehead +and looking quite disturbed at the mere sight of him. She held up a +reproachful finger at him warningly. + +"I knew it would be just this way," she said. "And you are paler and +more miserable than ever. If you and Dolly would just be more practical +and reason more for each other, instead of falling headlong into +quarrels and making everything up headlong every ten minutes, how much +better it would be for you! If I was not so fond of you both, you would +be the greatest trials I have." + +He was so glad to see the thoughtful, womanly little creature, that +he could have caught her up in his arms, gray cloak and all, and have +kissed her only a tithe less impetuously than he would have kissed +Dolly. He was one of the most faithful worshippers at her shrine, +and her pretty wisdom and unselfishness had won her many. He drew the +easiest chair up to the fire for her, and made her sit down and warm +her feet on the fender, while she talked to him, and he listened to her +every word, as he always did. + +"I have been to see Dolly," she said, "and I found her crying,--all by +herself and crying." And she paused to note the effect of her words. + +His heart gave a great thump. It always did give a hard thump when he +thought of Dolly as she looked when she cried,--a soft, limp little +bundle of pathetic prettiness, covering her dear little face in her +hands, shedding such piteous, impassioned tears, and refusing to be +kissed or comforted. Dolly sobbing on his shoulder was so different from +the coquettish, shrewd, mock-worldly Dolly other people saw. + +Aime put her hand into her dress-pocket under the gray cloak and +produced her letter,--took it out of its envelope, laid it on her knee, +and smoothed out its creases again. + +"She was crying over this letter," she proceeded,--"your letter; the one +you wrote to her when I think you cannot have been quite calm enough to +write anything. I think you cannot have read it over before sending it +away. It is always best to read a letter _twice_ before posting it. So +I have brought it to you to read again, and there it is," giving it to +him. + +He burst forth with the story of his wrongs, of course, then. He could +not keep it in any longer. Things had gone wrong with him in every way +before this had happened, he said, and he had longed so for just one +hour in which Dolly could comfort him and try to help him to pluck up +spirits again, and she had written to him a tender little letter, and +promised to give him that hour, and he had been so full of impatience +and love, and he had gone to the very gates and waited like a beggar +outside, lest he should miss her by any chance, and the end of his +waiting had been that he had caught a glimpse of the bright, warm room, +and the piano, and Dolly with Gowan bending over her as if she had no +other lover in the world. He told it all in a burst, clenching his hand +and scarcely stopping for breath; but when he ended he dashed the letter +down, pushed his chair round, and dropped his head on his folded arms on +the table, with a wild, tearing sob. + +"It is no fault of hers," he cried, "and it was only the first sting +that made me reproach her. I shall never do it again. She is only in the +right, and that fellow is in the right when he tells himself that he +can take better care of her and make her happier than I can. I will be a +coward no longer,--not an hour longer. I will give her up to-night. She +will learn to love him--he is a gentleman at least--if I were in +his place I should never fear that she would not learn in time, and +forget--and forget the poor, selfish beggar who would have died for her, +and yet was not man enough to control the jealous rage that tortured +her. I 'll give her up. I'll give it all up--but, oh! my God! Dolly, +the--the little house, and--and the dreams I have had about it!" + +Aime was almost in despair. This was not one of his ordinary moods; +this was the culminating point,--the culmination of all his old +sufferings and pangs. He had been working slowly toward this through +all the old unhappiness and self-reproach. The constant droppings of the +bygone years had worn away the stone at last, and he could not bear much +more. Aime was frightened now. Her habit of forethought showed her +all this in a very few seconds. His nervous, highly strung, impassioned +temperament had broken down at last. Another blow would be too much for +him. If she could not manage to set him right now and calm him, and if +things went wrong again, she was secretly conscious of feeling that the +consequences could not be foreseen. There was nothing wild and rash and +wretched he might not do. + +She got up and went to him, and leaned upon the table, clasping her +cool, firm little hand upon his hot, desperate one. A woman of fifty +could not have had the power over him that this slight, inexperienced +little creature had. Her childish face caught color and life and +strength in her determination to do her best for these two whom she +loved so well. Her small-boned, fragile figure deceived people into +undervaluing her reserve forces; but there was mature feeling and +purpose enough in her to have put many a woman three times her age to +shame. The light, cool touch of her hand soothed and controlled Griffith +from the first, and when she put forth all her powers of reasoning, and +set his trouble before him in a more practical and less headlong way, +not a word was lost upon him. She pictured Dolly to him just as she had +found her holding his letter in her hand, and she pictured her too as +she had really been the night he watched her through the window,--not +staying because she cared for Gowan, but because circumstances had +forced her to remain when she was longing in her own impetuous pretty +way to fly to him, and give him the comfort he needed. And she gave +Dolly's story in Dolly's own words, with the little sobs between, and +the usual plentiful sprinkling of sweet, foolish, loving epithets, +and--with innocent artfulness--made her seem so charming and +affectionate, a little centre-figure in the picture she drew, that no +man with a heart in his breast could have resisted her, and by the +time Aime had finished, Grif was so far moved that it seemed a sheer +impossibility to speak again of relinquishing his claims. + +But he could not regain his spirits sufficiently to feel able to say +very much. He quieted down, but he was still down at heart and crushed +in feeling, and could do little else but listen in a hopeless sort of +way. + +"I will tell you what you shall do," Aime said at last. "You shall see +Dolly yourself,--not on the street, but just as you used to see her +when she was at home. She shall come home some afternoon. I know Miss +MacDowlas will let her,--and you shall sit in the parlor together, Grif, +and make everything straight, and begin afresh." + +He could not help being roused somewhat by such a prospect. The cloud +was lifted for one instant, even if it fell upon him again the next. + +"I shall have to wait a week," he said. "Old Flynn has asked me to go +to Dartmouth, to attend to some business for him, and I leave here +to-morrow morning." + +"Very well!" she answered. "If we must wait a week, we must; but you can +write to Dolly in the interval, and settle upon the day, and then she +can speak to Miss MacDowlas." + +He agreed to the plan at once, and promised to write to Dolly that very +night. So the young peacemaker's mind was set at rest upon this subject, +at least, and after giving him a trifle more advice, and favoring him +with a few more sage axioms, she prepared to take her departure. + +"You may put on your hat and take me to the door; but you had better not +come in if you are going to finish your letter before the post closes," +she said; "but the short walk will do you good, and the night-air will +cool you." + +She bade him good-night at the gate when they reached Bloomsbury Place, +and she entered the house with her thoughts turning to Mollie. Mollie +had been out, too, it seemed. When she went up-stairs to their bedroom, +she found her there, standing before the dressing-table, still with her +hat on, and looking in evident preoccupation at something she held in +her hand. Hearing Aime, she started and turned round, dropping her hand +at her side, but not in time to hide a suspicious glitter which caught +her sister's eye. Here was a worse state of affairs than ever. She had +something to hide, and she had made up her mind to hide it. She stood up +as Aime approached, looking excited and guilty, but still half-defiant, +her lovely head tossed back a little and an obstinate curve on her red +lips. But the oracle was not to be daunted. She confronted her with +quite a stern little air. + +"Mollie," she began at once, without the least hesitation,--"Mollie, you +have just this minute hidden something from me, and I should n't have +thought you could do it." + +Mollie put her closed hand behind her. + +"_If_ I am hiding something," she answered, "I am not hiding it without +reason." + +"No," returned Dame Prudence, severely, "you are not. You have a very +good reason, I am afraid. You are ashamed of yourself, and you know you +are doing wrong. You have got a secret, which you are keeping from _me_, +Mollie," bridling a little in the prettiest way. "I didn't think you +would keep a secret from _me_." + +Mollie, very naturally, was overpowered. She looked a trifle ashamed of +herself, and the tears came into her eyes. She drew her hand from behind +her back, and held it out with a half-pettish, half-timid gesture. + +"There!" she said; "if you must see it." + +And there, on her pink palm, lay a shining opal ring. + +"And," said Aime, looking at it without offering to touch it, and then +looking at her,--"and Mr. Gerald Chandos gave it to you?" + +"Yes, Mr. Gerald Chandos did," trying to brave it out, but still +appearing the reverse of comfortable. "And you think it proper," +proceeded her inquisitor, "to accept such presents from a gentleman who +cares nothing for you?" + +Care nothing for her! Mollie drew herself upright, with the air of a +Zenobia. She had had too few real love affairs not to take arms at once +at such an imputation cast upon her prowess. + +"He cares enough for me to want me to marry him," she said, and then +stopped and looked as if she could have bitten her tongue off for +betraying her. + +Aime sat down in the nearest chair and stared at her, as if she doubted +the evidence of her senses. + +"To do what?" she demanded. + +There was no use in trying to conceal the truth any longer. Mollie saw +that much; and besides this, her feelings were becoming too strong for +her from various causes. The afternoon had been an exciting one to her, +too. So, all at once, so suddenly that Aime was altogether unprepared +for the outbreak, she gave way. The ring fell unheeded on to the carpet, +slipped from her hand and rolled away, and the next instant she went +down upon her knees, hiding her face on her arms on Aime's lap, and +began to cry hysterically. + +"It--it is to be quite a secret," she sobbed. "I would not tell anybody +but you, and I dare not tell you quite all, but he _has_ asked me to +marry him, Aime, and I have--I have said yes." And then she cried more +than ever, and caught Aime's hand, and clung to it with a desperate, +childish grasp, as if she was frightened. + +It was very evident that she was frightened, too. All the newly assumed +womanliness was gone. It was the handsome, inexperienced, ignorant +child Mollie she had known all her life who was clinging to her, Aime +felt,--the pretty, simple, thoughtless Mollie they had all admired and +laughed at, and teased and been fond of. She seemed to have become a +child again all at once, and she was in trouble and desperate, it was +plain. + +"But the very idea!" exclaimed Aime, inwardly; "the bare idea of her +having the courage to engage herself to him!" + +"I never heard such a thing in my life," she said, aloud. "Oh, Mollie! +Mollie! what induced you to give him such a mad answer? You don't care +for him." + +"He--he would not take any other answer, and he is as nice as any one +else," shamefacedly. "He is nicer than Brown and the others, and--I do +like him--a little," but a tiny shudder crept over her, and she held her +listener's hand more tightly. + +"As nice as any one else!" echoed Aime, indignantly. "Nicer than Brown! +You ought to be in leading-strings!" with pathetic hopelessness. "That +was n't your only reason, Mollie." + +The hat with the short crimson feather had been unceremoniously pushed +off, and hung by its elastic upon Mollie's neck; the pretty curly hair +was all crushed into a heap, and the flushed, tear-wet face was hidden +in the folds of Aime's dress. There was a charming, foolish, fanciful +side to Mollie's desperation, as there was to all her moods. + +"That was not your only reason," repeated Aime. + +One impetuous, unhappy little sob, and the poor simple child confessed +against her will. + +"Nobody--nobody else cared for me!" she cried. + +"Nobody?" said Aime; and then, making up her mind to go to the point at +once, she said, "Does 'nobody' mean that Ralph Gowan did not, Mollie?" + +The clinging hand was snatched away, and the child quite writhed. + +"I hate Ralph Gowan!" she cried. "I detest him! I wish--I wish--I _wish_ +I had never seen him! Why could n't he stay away among his own people? +Nobody wanted him. Dolly doesn't care for him, and Grif hates him. Why +could n't he stay where he was?" + +There was no need to doubt after this, of course. Her love for Ralph +Gowan had rendered her restless and despairing, and so she had worked +out this innocent romance, intending to defend herself against him. The +heroines of her favorite novels married for money when they could +not marry for love, and why should not she? Remember, she was only +seventeen, and had been brought up in Vagabondia among people who did +not often regard consequences. Mr. Gerald Chandos was rich, made violent +love to her, and was ready to promise anything, it appeared,--not that +she demanded much; the Lord Burleighs of her experience invariably +showered jewels and equipages and fine raiment upon their brides without +being asked. She would have thought it positive bliss to be tied to +Ralph Gowan for six or seven years without any earthly prospect of ever +being married; to have belonged to him as Dolly belonged to Grif, to sit +in the parlor and listen to him while he made love to her as Grif made +love to Dolly, would have been quite enough steady-going rapture for +her; but since that was out of the question, Mr. Gerald Chandos and +diamonds and a carriage would have to fill up the blank. + +But, of course, she did not say this to Aime. In fact, after her first +burst of excitement subsided, Aime could not gain much from her. She +cried a little more, and then seemed vexed with herself, and tried to +cool down, and at last so far succeeded that she sat up and pushed her +tangled hair from her wet, hot face, and began to search for the ring. + +"It has got a diamond in the centre," she said, trying to speak +indifferently. "I don't believe you looked at it. The opals are +splendid, too." + +"Are you going to wear it?" asked Aime. + +She colored up to her forehead. "No, I am not," she answered. "I should +have worn it before if I had intended to let people see it. I told you +it was a secret. I have had this ring three or four days." + +"Why is it a secret?" demanded Dame Prudence. "I don't believe in +secrets,--particularly in secret engagements. Is n't Phil to know?" + +She turned away to put the ring into its case. + +"Not yet," she replied, pettishly. "Time enough when it can't be helped. +It is a secret, I tell you, and I don't care about everybody's talking +it over." + +And she would say no more. + + + +CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + +"It is my impression," said Dolly, "that something is going to happen." + +She was not in the best of spirits. She could not have explained why. +Griffith was safe, at least, though he had been detained a week longer +than he had anticipated, and consequently their meeting would have to be +deferred; but though this had been a disappointment, Dolly was used +to such disappointments, and besides the most formidable part of the +waiting was over, for it was settled now that he would be home in two +days. It was Tuesday now, and on Thursday he was to return, and she +was going to Bloomsbury Place in the afternoon, and he was to join the +family tea as he had used to do in the old times. But still she did not +feel quite easy. She was restless and uncomfortable in spite of herself, +and was conscious of being troubled by a vague presentiment of evil. + +"It is not like me to be blue," she said to herself; "but I am blue +to-day. I wonder what is going on at home." + +Then, as was quite natural, her thoughts wandered to Mollie, and +she began to ponder upon what Aime had told her. How were matters +progressing, and what was going to be the end of it all? The child's +danger was plainer to her than it was to Aime; and, fond as she was of +Mollie, she had determined to improve the occasion of her visit home, +by taking the fair delinquent aside and administering a sound lecture +to her. She would tell her the truth, at least, and try to open her +innocent eyes to the fact that Mr. Gerald Chandos was not a man of the +King Cophetua stamp, and that there was neither romance nor poetry in +allowing such a man to amuse himself at her expense. + +Poor Mollie! It would be a humiliating view to take of a first conquest, +but it would be the best thing for her in the end. Dolly sighed over +the mere prospect of the task before her. She remembered what her first +conquest had been, and how implicitly she had believed in her new power, +and how trustingly she had swallowed every sugared nothing, and how she +had revelled in the field of possible romance which had seemed spread +before her, until she had awakened one fine day to find the first +flush of her triumph fading, and her adorer losing his attractions and +becoming rather tame. That had been long ago, even before Griffith's +time, but she had not forgotten the experience, and she knew it +would have been a severe shock to _her_ innocent self-love and +self-gratulation, if any one had hinted to her that there was a doubt of +her captive's honesty. She was roused from her reverie by a message from +Miss MacDowlas. It was only a commonplace sort of message. There were +some orders to be left at the poulterer's and fruiterer's, and some +bills to be paid in town, and, these affairs being her business, Miss +MacDowlas had good-naturedly ordered the carriage for her, as she had a +long round to make. + +Dolly got up and laid her work aside. She was not sorry for the +opportunity of going out, so she ran up-stairs with some alacrity to +put on her hat, and, having dressed, went to Miss MacDowlas for more +particular instructions. + +"You are looking rather pale and the drive will do you good," said that +lady. "Call at Pullet's and pay his bill, and order the things on his +list first. By the way, it was when I drove round to give orders to +Pullet the other day, that I saw your pretty sister with Gerald Chandos. +She is too pretty, far too pretty, and far too young and inexperienced, +to be giving private interviews to such people as Gerald Chandos," +sharply. + +"Private!" repeated Dolly, with some indignation. "I think that is a +mistake. Mr. Gerald Chandos has no need to make his interview private. +The doors are open to him at Bloomsbury Place so long as he behaves +himself." + +"The more is the pity," answered Miss MacDowlas; "but that this was a +private interview I am certain. My pretty Miss Innocence came up the +street slowly with her handsome baby-face on fire, and two minutes later +Gerald Chandos followed her in a wondrous hurry, and joined her +and carried her off, looking very guilty and charming, and a trifle +reluctant, I must admit." + +Dolly's cheeks flushed, and her heart began to beat hotly. If this was +the case it was simply disgraceful, and Miss Mollie was allowing herself +to be led too far. + +"I am sorry to hear this," she said to Miss Mac-Dowlas, "but I am +indebted to you for telling me. I will attend to it when I go home on +Thursday, and," with a flash of fire, "if it is needful I will attend to +Mr. Gerald Chandos himself." + +She entered the carriage, feeling hot with anger and distress. She had +not expected such a blow, even though she had told herself that she was +prepared to hear of any romantic imprudence. And then in the midst of +her anger she began to pity Mollie, as it seemed natural to pity her +always when she was indiscreet. Who had ever taught her to be discreet, +poor child? Had she herself? No, she had not. She had been fond of her +and proud of her beauty, but she had laughed at her unsophisticated, +thoughtless way with the rest, and somehow they had all looked upon +her as they looked upon Tod,--as rather a good joke. Dolly quite hated +herself as she remembered how she had related her own little escapades +for the edification of the family circle, and how Mollie had enjoyed +them more than any one else. She had never overstepped the actual +bounds of propriety herself, but she had been coquettish and fond of +admiration, and had delighted to hold her own against the world. + +"I was n't a good example to her!" she cried, remorsefully. "She ought +to have had a good, wise mother. I wish she had. I wish I had one +myself." + +And she burst into tears, and leaned her head against the cushioned +carriage, feeling quite overcome by her self-reproach and consciousness. +Their mother had died when Mollie was born, and they had been left to +fight their own battles ever since. + +She was obliged to control herself, however. It would never do to +present herself to Pullet in tears. So she sat up and dried her eyes +with her handkerchief, and turned to the carriage window to let the +fresh air blow upon her face. But she had not been looking out +two minutes when her attention was attracted by something down the +street,--a bit of color,--a little tuft of scarlet feathers in a hat, +and then her eyes, wandering lower, recognized a well-remembered jacket +and a well-remembered dress, and then the next instant she uttered an +exclamation in spite of herself. + +"It is Mollie!" she cried. "It is Mollie, and here is Gerald Chandos!" + +For at the door of a bookseller's she was just nearing stood the +gentleman in question, holding a periodical in his hand, and evidently +awaiting an arrival. + +He caught sight of Mollie almost as soon as she did herself, and +the instant he saw her he hurried toward her, and by the time Miss +MacDowlas's carriage rolled slowly up to them, in its usual stately +fashion, he was holding the small disreputable glove Mollie had just +taken out of the convenient jacket pocket, and the fair culprit herself +was listening to his eager greeting with the old, bright, uncontrollable +blushes, and the old dangerous trick of drooping brown-fringed eyelids, +and half-shy, half-wilful air. Dolly instinctively called to her almost +aloud. She could not resist the impulse. + +"Mollie!" she said. "Mollie!" + +But, of course, Mollie did not hear her, and the carriage passed her, +and Dolly sank back into her corner catching her breath. + +"It was not a mistake," she said; "it was true. It is worse than I +thought. Miss MacDowlas was right. It was no accident which brought them +both here. He is a cowardly scoundrel and is playing upon her ignorance. +If I had believed in him before, I should know that he is not to be +trusted now. She is walking on the edge of a precipice, and she thinks +she is safe and never dreams of its existence. Oh, Mollie! Mollie! the +world means nothing to you yet, and it is we who have to show you all +the thorns!" + +She finished her errands and drove homeward as quickly as possible. She +could think of nothing but Mollie, and by the time she reached Barbrazon +Lodge her head ached with the unpleasant excitement. The servant who +opened the door met her with a piece of information. Mr. Gowan had +called to see her on some special business, and was awaiting her arrival +in the drawing-room. He had been there almost an hour. + +She did not go to her room at all, but ran up-stairs to the drawing-room +quickly, feeling still more anxious. It was just possible that somebody +was ill, and Ralph Gowan had come to break the news to her because no +one else had been at liberty. With this idea uppermost, she opened the +door and advanced toward him, looking pale and troubled. + +He met her half-way, and took her outstretched hand, looking troubled +himself. + +"You are not very well," he said at once. "I am sorry to see that." And +his voice told her immediately that he had not come with good news. + +She smiled faintly, but when she sat down she put her hand to her +forehead. + +"Am I pale, then?" she answered. "I suppose I must be. It is nothing but +a trifle of headache, and," with a hesitant laugh, "that I half fancied +you had come to tell me something unpleasant." + +He was silent for a moment,--so silent that she looked up at him with a +startled face. + +"It _is_ something unpleasant!" she exclaimed. "You have come with ill +news, and you are afraid to begin." + +"Not so bad as that,--not afraid, but rather reluctant," he answered. +"It is _not_ pleasant news; and but that I felt it would be wisest to +warn you at once, I would rather any one else had brought it. I have +stumbled upon a disagreeable report." + +"Report!" Dolly echoed, and her thoughts flew to Mollie again. + +"Don't be alarmed," he said. "It is only a disagreeable one because +the subject of it has managed to connect himself with some one whose +happiness we value." + +Dolly rose from her chair and stood up, turning even paler than before. + +"This some one whose happiness we value is Mollie," she said. "And the +report you have heard is about Mr. Gerald Chandos. Am I not right?" + +"Yes," he returned, "you are right. The hero of the report is Gerald +Chandos." + +"What has he been doing?" she asked, sharply. "Don't hesitate, please. I +want to know." + +He was evidently both distressed and perplexed. He took two or three +hurried steps across the room, as if to give himself a little extra time +to settle his words into the best form. But Dolly could not wait. + +"Mr. Gowan," she said, "what has that man been doing?" + +He turned round and answered her. + +"He has been passing himself off to your brother as an unmarried man," +he said. + +She slipped back into her chair again, and wrung her hands passionately. + +"And he is married?" she demanded. "Oh! how was it you did not know +this?'' + +"Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it," he returned. +"And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to +tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, +and I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end +of a boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent +six months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and +Chandos has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts +occasionally." + +"And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?" said Dolly. + +"Not quite sure," he replied; "but I wish I had greater reason to doubt +it." + +Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street +only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and +drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he +took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling +her blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, +and then spoke. + +"Mr. Gowan," she said, "in the first place I ought to thank you." + +"Nay," he said, "I promised to help you to care for Mollie." + +"I ought to thank you," she repeated. "And I do. But in the second place +I am going to ask you to do something for me which may be disagreeable." + +"You may be sure," he replied, "that I shall not hesitate." + +"Yes," she said, "I think I am sure of that, or I should not ask you. I +am so eager about the matter, that I could not bear to waste the time. +I want you to help me. On Thursday afternoon I am going home. Can you +trace this report to its source before then, and let me know whether it +is a true or a false one?" + +"I can try." + +She clasped both her gloved hands together on the small table before +her, and lifted to his such a determined young face and such steadfast +eyes, that he was quite impressed. She would rise in arms against the +world for poor, unwise Mollie, it was plain. It was not so safe a matter +to trifle in Vagabondia, it would seem,--that Gerald Chandos would find +to his cost. + +"If you bring word to me that what you have heard is a truth," she said, +"I can go to Mollie with my weapon in my hand, and I can end all at one +blow. However wilful and incredulous she may have been heretofore, she +will not attempt to resist me when I tell her that. It is a humiliating +thing to think he has insulted her by keeping his secret so far; but we +meet with such covert stings now and then in Vagabondia, and perhaps it +will prove a blessing in disguise. If we had used our authority to make +her dismiss him without having a decided reason to give her, she might +only have resented our intervention as being nothing but prejudice. As +it is, she will be frightened and angry." + +So it was agreed upon that he should take in hand the task of sifting +the affair to the bottom. His time was his own, and chance had thrown +him among men who would be likely to know the truth. As soon as he had +gained the necessary information, Dolly would hear from him, or he would +call upon her and give her all particulars. + +"You have a whole day before you,--nearly two whole days, I may say, +for I shall not be likely to leave here until five or six o'clock +on Thursday," Dolly said, when their rather lengthened interview +terminated. + +"I will make the most of my time," he replied. + +Dolly stood at the window and watched him go down the walk to the gates. + +"This is the something which was going to happen," she commented. +"Having set matters straight with Grif, I suppose it is necessary, for +the maintenance of my self-control, that I should have a difficulty +about Mollie; but I think I could have retained my equilibrium without +it." + +The two days passed quietly enough up to Thursday afternoon. Whatever +Ralph Gowan had discovered, he was keeping to himself for the present. +He had not written, and he had not called. Naturally, Dolly was +impatient. She began to be very impatient indeed, as the afternoon +waned, and it became dusk. Worse still, her old restlessness came upon +her. She could not make up her mind to leave Brabazon Lodge until she +had either seen or heard from Gowan, and she was afraid that if she +lingered late Griffith would arrive before her, and would be troubled by +her non-appearance. Since the night they had met in the street she had +not seen him, and she had much to say to him. She had looked forward +anxiously to this evening, and the few quiet hours they were to spend +together in the dear old disreputable parlor at Bloomsbury Place. +They had spent so many blissful evenings in that parlor, that the very +thought of it made her heart beat happily. Nobody would be there to +interfere with them. The rest of the family would, good-naturedly, +vacate and leave them alone, and she would take her old chair by the +fire, and Grif would sit near her, and in ten minutes after they had sat +so together, they would have left all their troubles behind them, and +wandered off into a realm of tender dreams and sweet unrealities. +But, impatient as she was to be gone, Dolly could not forget Mollie's +interest. It was too near her heart to be forgotten. She must attend to +Mollie's affairs first, and then she could fly to Grif and the parlor +with an easy conscience. So she waited until five o'clock before +dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a while, +she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her small +preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to +leave the house as soon as he did. + +"It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake," she +said. "I must consider him, too. If Mr. Gowan does not come by six or +half-past, I shall be obliged to go." + +She purposely prolonged her toilet, even though it had occupied a +greater length of time than usual in the first instance. There had +been a new acquisition in the shape of a dress to don, and one or two +coquettish aids to appearance, which were also novelties. But before six +o'clock she was quite ready, and, having nothing else to do, was reduced +to the necessity of standing before the glass and taking stock of +herself and her attire. + +"It fits," she soliloquized, curving her neck in her anxiety to obtain a +back view of herself. "It fits like a glove, and so Grif will be sure to +like it. His admiration for clothes that fit amounts to a monomania. He +will make his usual ecstatic remarks on the subject of figure, too. And +I must confess," with modest self-satisfaction,--"I must confess that +those frills are not unbecoming. If we were only rich--and married--how +I would dress, to please him! Being possessed of a figure, one's results +are never uncertain. Figure is a weakness of mine, also. With the +avoirdupois of Miss Jolliboy, life would appear a desert. Ten thousand +per annum would not console me. And yet she wears sables and seal-skin, +and is happy. It is a singular fact, worthy of the notice of the +philosopher, that it is such women who invariably possess the sable and +seal-skin. Ah, well!" charitably, "I suppose it is a dispensation of +Providence. When they attain that size they need some compensation." + +Often in after time she remembered the complacent little touch of +vanity, and wondered how it had been possible that she could stand +there, making so thoughtless and foolish a speech when danger was so +near, and so much of sharp, passionate suffering was approaching her. + +She had waited until the last minute, and finding, on consulting her +watch, that it was past six, she decided to wait no longer. She took +up her gloves from the dressing-table and drew them on; she settled +the little drooping plume in her hat and picked up her muff, and then, +giving a last glance and a saucy nod to the piquant reflection in the +glass, she opened her bedroom door to go out. + +And then it was, just at this last moment, that there came a ring at the +hall-door bell,--evidently a hurried ring, and withal a ring which made +her heart beat, she knew not why. + +She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and +the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him. + +"Mr. Gowan," she heard. "Miss Crewe--wish to see her at once--at once." + +She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for +the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and +entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her +with an exclamation of thankfulness. + +"Thank God!" he said, "that you are ready!" He was pale with excitement, +and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. "You +must come with me," he said. "There is not a moment to lose. I have a +cab at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true, +and I have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is +not the worst,--for God's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends +upon your courage,--he intends taking your sister with him." + +Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how +much might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she +had promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,--handsome, +lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rushing headlong and unconsciously to +misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she +turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so +before, had nodded at her pretty self in the glass; the excited blood +tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,--she +could not wait a breath's space. + +"Come!" she exclaimed, "I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are +in the cab." + +She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give +the driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she +learned all. + +In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had +succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though +he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries. +In the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who +had been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was, +still was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been +roused to such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings +with the intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there +he had made the fearful discovery that he had just left the place with +"a pretty, childish-looking girl,--tall, and with a lovely color," as +the landlady described her; and he had known it was Mollie at once. + +The good woman had given him all particulars. They had come to the house +together in a cab, and the young lady had not got out, but had remained +seated in it while her companion had given his orders to his servant +indoors. She--his housekeeper--had heard him say something about +Brussels, and, having caught a glimpse of the charming face in the +vehicle outside, she had watched it from behind the blinds, suspecting +something out of the common order of things. + +"Not that he did not treat her polite and respectful enough," she added; +"for he did and she--pretty young thing--seemed quite to expect it, and +not to be at all ashamed of herself, though she were a trifle shy and +timid. I even heard him ask her if she would rather he rode outside, and +she said she 'thought so, if he pleased,' And he bowed to her and went, +quite obedient. That was what puzzled me so; if he 'd ha' been freer, I +could have understood it." + +"It does not puzzle me!" cried Dolly, clenching her hands and fairly +panting for breath when she heard it. "He knows how innocent she is, and +he is too crafty to alarm her by his manner. Oh, cannot we make this man +drive faster?--cannot we make him drive faster?" + +Gowan drew out his watch and referred to it. + +"There is no danger of our losing their train," he said. "It does not +leave the station until nearly seven, and it is not yet half-past six. +If they leave London to-night, we shall meet them; if they do not, I +think I can guess where we shall find them. Remember, you must not allow +yourself to become excited. We have only our coolness and readiness of +action to rely upon. If we lose our presence of mind, we lose all." + +He did not lose his presence of mind, at least. + +Even in the midst of her distress, Dolly found time to feel grateful to +him beyond measure, and to admire his forethought. He never seemed +to hesitate for a moment. He had evidently decided upon his course +beforehand, and there was no delay. Reaching the station, he assisted +Dolly to descend from the cab and led her at once to a seat where she +could command a view of all who made their appearance upon the platform. +Then he left her and went to make inquiries from the officials. He +was not absent long. In a few minutes he returned with the necessary +information. The train was not due for twenty minutes, and as yet no +lady and gentleman answering to his description had been seen by any one +in the place. + +He came to Dolly and took a seat by her, looking down at her upturned, +appealing face pityingly, but reassuringly. + +"We are safe yet," he said. "They have not arrived, and they can have +taken passage in no other train. We will watch this train leave the +station, and then we will drive at full speed to the hotel Chandos is in +the habit of visiting when he makes a flying journey. I know the place +well enough." + +The next half-hour was an anxious one to both. The train was behind +time, and consequently they were compelled to wait longer than they had +expected. A great many people crowded into the station and took tickets +for various points,--workingmen and their wives, old women with bundles, +and young ones without, comfortable people who travelled first-class and +seemed satisfied with themselves, shabbily attired little dressmakers +and milliners with bandboxes, a party of tourists, and a few nice girls; +in fact, the usual samples of people hurrying or taking it easy, losing +their temper or preserving it; but there was no Mollie. The last moment +arrived, the guards closed the carriage doors with the customary bang, +and the customary cry of "All right;" there were a few puffs and a +whistle, and then the train moved slowly out of the station. Mollie was +not on her way to Brussels yet; that was a fact to be depended upon. + +Dolly rose from her seat with a sigh which was half relief. + +"Now for trying the hotel," said Gowan. "Take my arm and summon up your +spirits. In less than a quarter of an hour, I think I may say, we shall +have found our runaway, and we shall have to do our best to reduce her +romantic escapade to a commonplace level. We may even carry her back to +Bloomsbury Place before they have had time to become anxious about her. +Thank Heaven, we were so fortunate as to discover all before it was too +late!" + +Bloomsbury Place! A sudden pang shot through Dolly's heart. She +recollected then for the first time that at Bloomsbury Place Griffith +was waiting for her, and that it might be a couple of hours before she +could see him and explain. She got into the cab and leaned back in one +corner, with the anxious tears forcing themselves into her eyes. It +seemed as if fate itself was against her. + +"What will he think?" she exclaimed, unconsciously. "Oh, what will +he think?" Then, seeing that Gowan had heard her, she looked at him +piteously. + +"I did not mean to speak aloud," she said. "I had forgotten in my +trouble that Grif will be waiting for me all this time. He has gone to +the house to meet me, and--I am not there." + +Perhaps he felt a slight pang, too. For some time he had been slowly +awakening, to the fact that this otherwise unfortunate Grif was all in +all to her, and shut out the rest of the world completely. He had no +chance against him, and no other man would have any. Still, even in the +face of this knowledge, the evident keenness of her disappointment cut +him a little. + +"You must not let that trouble you," he said, generously. "Donne will +easily understand your absence when you tell him where you have been. +In the meantime, I have a few suggestions to make before we reach the +hotel." + +It was Mollie he was thinking of. He was wondrously tender of her in his +man's pity for her childish folly and simplicity. If possible, they must +keep her secret to themselves. If she had left no explanation behind +her, she must have given some reason for leaving the house, and if they +found her at the hotel it would not be a difficult matter to carry her +back home without exciting suspicion, and thus she would be saved the +embarrassment and comment her position would otherwise call down upon +her. Griffith might be told in confidence, but the rest of them might +be left to imagine that nothing remarkable had occurred. These were his +suggestions. + +Dolly agreed to adopt them at once, it is hardly necessary to say. The +idea that it would be possible to adopt them made the case look less +formidable. She had been terribly troubled at first by the thought of +the excitement the explanation of the escapade would cause at Bloomsbury +Place. Phil would have been simply furious,--not so much against Mollie +as against Chandos. His good-natured indifference to circumstances would +not have been proof against the base betrayal of confidence involved in +the affair. And then even in the after-time, when the worst was over and +forgotten, the innumerable jokes and thoughtless sarcasms she would have +had to encounter would have been Mollie's severest punishment. When the +remembrance of her past danger had faded out of the family mind, and the +whimsical side of the matter presented itself, they would have teased +her, and Dolly felt that such a course would be far from safe. So she +caught at Ralph Gowan's plan eagerly. + +Still she felt an excited thrill when the cab drew up before the door of +the hotel. Suppose they should not find her? Suppose Chandos had taken +precautions against their being followed? + +But Gowan did not seem to share her misgivings, though the expression +upon his face was a decidedly disturbed one as he descended from the +vehicle. + +"You must remain seated until I come back," he said. "I shall not be +many minutes, I am sure. I am convinced they are here." And then he +closed the cab door and left her. + +She drew out her watch and sat looking at it to steady herself. Her mind +was not very clear as to how she intended to confront Mr. Gerald Chandos +and convince Mollie. The convincing of Mollie would not be difficult, +she was almost sure, but the confronting of Gerald Chandos was not a +pleasant thing to think of. + +She was just turning over in her mind a stirring, scathing speech, when +the cab door opened again, and Gowan stood before her. He had not been +absent five minutes. + +"It is as I said it would be," he said. "They are here,--at least Mollie +is here. Chandos has gone out, and she is alone in the private parlor +he has engaged for her. They have evidently missed their train. They +intended to leave by the first in the morning. I have managed to give +the impression that we are expected, and so we shall be shown on to the +scene at once without any trouble." + +And so they were. A waiter met them at the entrance and led them +up-stairs without the slightest hesitation. + +"It is not necessary to announce us," said Gowan. And the man threw open +the door of No. 2 with a bow. + +They crossed the threshold together without speaking, and when the +door closed behind them they turned and looked at each other with a +simultaneous but half-smothered exclamation. + +It was a pretty room, bright with a delicate gay-hued carpet and thick +white rugs, numerous mirrors and upholstering of silver-gray and blue. +There was a clear-burning fire in the highly polished steel-grate, +and one of the blue and silver-gray sofas had been drawn up to it, +and there, upon this sofa, lay Mollie with her hand under her cheek, +sleeping like a baby. + +They were both touched to the heart by the mere sight of her. There was +something in the perfect repose of her posture and expression that was +childish and restful. It was a difficult matter to realize that she was +sleeping on the brink of ruin and desolation. Something bright gathered +on Dolly's lashes and slipped down her cheek as she looked at her. + +"Thank God, we have found her!" she said. "Just to think that she should +be sleeping like that,--as if she was at home. If she was two years old +she might wear just such a look." + +Gowan hardly liked to stand by as she went toward the sofa. The girl's +face, under the coquettish hat, seemed to grow womanly, her whole figure +seemed to soften as she knelt down upon the carpet by the couch and laid +her hand upon Mollie's shoulder, speaking to her gently. + +"Mollie," she said, "dear, waken." + +Just that, and Mollie started up with a faint cry, dazzled by the light, +and rubbing her eyes and her soft, flushed cheeks, just as she had done +the night Gowan surprised her asleep in the parlor. + +"Dolly," she cried out, when she saw who was with her,--"Dolly," in a +half-frightened voice, "why did you come here?" + +"I came to take you home," answered Dolly, tremulously, but firmly. +"Thank God! I am not too late! Oh, Mollie, Mollie, how could you?" + +Mollie sat up among her blue and gray cushions and stared at her for a +moment, as if she was not wide enough awake to realize what she meant. +But the next instant she caught sight of Ralph Gowan, and that roused +her fully, and she flushed scarlet. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said. "I don't know what you mean +by coming here in this way. And I don't know what Mr. Gowan means by +bringing you,--for I feel sure he has brought you. I am not a baby, +to be followed as if I could not take care of myself. I am going to +be married to Mr. Gerald Chandos to-morrow, and we are going on the +Continent for our wedding tour." + +She was in a high state of rebellion. It was Gowan's presence she was +resenting, not Dolly's. To tell the truth, she was rather glad to see +Dolly. She had begun to feel the loneliness of her position, and it had +half intimidated her. But the sight of Gowan roused her spirit. What +right had he to come and interfere with her, since he did not care for +her and thought she was nothing but a child? It made her feel like a +child. She turned her back to him openly as she spoke to Dolly. + +"I am going to be married in the morning," she repeated; "and we are +going to Brussels." + +Then, in her indignation against Mr. Gerald Chandos, Dolly fired a +little herself. + +"And has it never occurred to you," she said, "that it is rather a +humiliating thing this running away, as if you knew you were doing +something disgraceful? May I ask what reason Mr. Gerald Chandos gives +for asking you to submit to such an insult, for it is an insult?" + +"He has very good reasons," answered Mollie, beginning to falter all at +once, as the matter was presented to her in this new and trying light. +"He has very good reasons,--something about business and--and his +family, and he does not intend to insult me. He is very fond of me and +very proud of me, and he is going to try to make me very happy. He--he +has bought me a beautiful trousseau--" And then, seeing the two exchange +indignant yet pitying glances, she broke off suddenly and burst forth as +if she was trying to hide in anger the subtle, mysterious fear which was +beginning to creep upon her. "How dare you look at each other so!" she +cried. "How dare you look at me so! I have done nothing wrong. He says +many other people do the same thing and--and I won't be looked at so. I +shall not tell you another word. You--you look as if I was going to do +something wicked and dreadful." And she flung herself face downward upon +the sofa cushions and broke into a passionate, excited sob. + +Then Dolly could control herself no longer. She flashed out into a storm +of wrath and scorn against this cool, systematic scoundrel, who would +have wrought such harm against such simple ignorance of the world. +What had they not saved her from, poor, foolish child? She clenched her +little, gloved hand and struck it against the sofa arm, the hot color +flaming up on her cheeks and the fire lighting in her eyes. + +"Mollie!" she exclaimed, "that is what is true! You are going to do +something that is dreadful to think of, though you do not think so +because you do not know the truth. And we have come to tell you the +truth and save you. That man is a villain,--he is the worst of villains. +He does not intend to marry you,--he cannot marry you, and, knowing +he cannot, he has been laying traps for months to drag you down into +a horrible pit of shame. Yes, of the bitterest grief and shame,--poor, +simple child as you are,--for I must tell you the whole dreadful truth, +though I would far rather hide it from you, if I could. There are some +wicked, wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of +the worst, for he has got a wife already." + +It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and +confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out +of her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a +wild, appealing look. + +"It is n't true," she insisted, desperately; but her voice was broken, +and she sobbed out her words in her fright. "It is n't true! It is n't +true! You want to frighten me." And all at once she ran to Ralph Gowan +like a child, and caught hold of his arm with her pretty, shaking +hands. "Mr. Gowan," she said, "you know, don't you? and you won't--you +won't--Oh, where is Aime? I want Aime! Aime is n't like the rest of +you! _She_ would have made me go home without being so cruel as this." +And the next minute she turned so white and staggered so, that Dolly ran +to her, and Gowan was obliged to take her in his arms. + +"Tell her that what I have said is true," said Dolly, crying. "She will +begin to understand then." + +And so, while he held her, panting and sobbing and clinging to him, +Gowan told her all that he had learned. He was as brief as possible and +as tender as a woman. His heart so warmed toward the pretty, lovable, +passionately frightened creature, that his voice was far from steady as +he told his story. + +She did not rebel an instant longer, then. Her terror, under the shock, +rendered her only helpless and hysterical. She had so far lost control +over herself that she would have believed anything they had chosen to +tell her. + +"Take me away," she cried, whitening and shivering, all her bright, +pretty color gone, all her wilful petulance struck down at a blow. "Take +me home,--take me home to Aime. I want to go away from here before he +comes. I want to go home and die." + +How they got her down-stairs and into the carriage, Dolly scarcely +knows. It was enough that they got her there and knew she was safe. Upon +the table in the room above they had left a note directed to Mr. Gerald +Chandos,--Dolly had directed it and Dolly had written it. + +"Is there pen and ink here?" she had asked Gowan; and when he had +produced the articles, she had bent over the table and dashed a few +lines off with an unsteady yet determined hand. + +"There!" she had said, when she closed the envelope. "Mr. Chandos will +go to Brussels, I think, and he will understand why he goes alone, and, +for my part, I incline to the belief that he will not trouble us again." + +And in five minutes more they were driving toward Bloomsbury Place. + +But now the first excitement was over, Dolly's nerve began to fail her. +Now that Mollie was safe, she began to think of Griffith. It seemed a +cruel trick of fortune's to try his patience so sharply just at this +very point. She knew so well what effect his hours of waiting would have +upon him. But it was useless to rebel now; so she must bear it as well +as she could, and trust to the result of her explanation. Yet despite +her hope, every minute of the long drive seemed an age, and she grew +feverish and restless and wretched. What if he had not waited, and was +not there to listen to what she had to say? Then there would be all the +old trouble to face again,--perhaps something worse. + +"It is nine o'clock," she said, desperately, as they passed a lighted +church tower. "It is nine o'clock." And she leaned back in her corner +again, with her heart beating strongly. Her disappointment was so keen +that she could have burst into a passion of tears. Her happy evening +was gone, and her dream of simple pleasure had fled with its sacrificed +hours. She could not help remembering this, and being quite conquered by +the thought, even though Mollie was safe. + +They had settled what to do beforehand. At the corner of the street +Gowan was to leave them, and the two girls were to go in together, +Mollie making her way at once to her room upon pretext of headache. A +night's rest would restore her self-control, and by the next morning she +would be calm enough to face the rest, and so her wild escapade would +end without risk of comment if she was sufficiently discreet to keep her +own counsel. At present she was too thoroughly upset and frightened even +to feel humiliation. + +"Nearly half-past nine," said Gowan, as he assisted them to descend to +the pavement at their journey's end. + +The light from an adjacent lamp showed him that the face under Dolly's +hat was very pale and excited, and her eyes were shining and large with +repressed tears as she gave him her hand. + +"I cannot find words to thank you just yet," she said, low and +hurriedly. "I wish I could; but--you know what you have helped me to +save Mollie from to-night, and so you know what my gratitude must be. +The next time I see you, perhaps, I shall be able to say what I wish, +but now I can only say goodnight, and--oh, God bless you!" And the +little hand fairly wrung his. + +Mollie shook hands with him, trembling and almost reluctantly. She was +pale, too, and her head drooped as if it would nevermore regain the old +trick of wilful, regal carriage. + +"You have been very kind to take so much trouble," she said. "You were +kinder than I deserved,--both of you." + +"Now," said Dolly, when he sprang into the cab, and they turned away +together,--"now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. No," +trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great matter, +"you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over now, +and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You have +been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is +all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and +a headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a +heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow--but it isn't. But, Mollie," +they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and +she turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking +tremulously, "when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say +your prayers, and thank God that it is n't,--thank God that it is n't, +with all your heart and soul." And she kissed her cheek softly just as +they heard Aime coming down the hall to open the door. + +"Dolly!" she exclaimed when she saw them, "where have you been? Griffith +has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given +you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by +something." + +"I have been delayed by something," said Dolly, her heart failing her +again. "And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, +Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?" + +"Scarcely ten minutes," was the answer. "It is a wonder you did not meet +him. Oh, Dolly!" ominously, "how unlucky you are!" + +Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner. + +"I _am_ unlucky," she said; and without saying more, she made her way +into the parlor. + +She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless +of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the +room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its +cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk +low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;--somehow or +other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late for +the brightness and warmth,--a few hours before it had been bright and +warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now? She +dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed +feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and +had gone home! + +"It's too bad!" she cried. "It is cruel! I can't bear it! Oh, Grif, _do_ +come!" And her tears fell thick and fast. + +Ten minutes later she started up with a little cry of joy and relief. +That was his footstep upon the pavement, and before he had time to ring +she was at the door. She could scarcely speak to him in her excitement. + +"Oh, Grif!" she said; "Grif--darling!" + +But he did not offer to touch her, and strode past her outstretched +hands. + +"Come into this room with me," he said, hoarsely; and the simple sound +of his voice struck her to the heart like a blow. + +She followed him, trembling, and when they stood in the light, and she +saw his deathly, passion-wrung face, her hand crept up to her side and +pressed against it. + +He had a package in his hand,--a package of letters,--and he laid them +down on the table. + +"I have been home for these," he said. "Your letters,--I have brought +them back to you." + +"Grif!" she cried out. + +He waved her back. + +"No," he said, "never mind that. It is too late for that now, that is +all over. Good God! all over!" and he panted for breath. "I have been in +this room waiting for you," he struggled on, "since five o'clock. I came +with my heart full to the brim. I have dreamt about what this evening +was to be to us every night for a week. I was ready to kneel and kiss +your feet. I waited hour after hour. I was ready to pray--yes, to +_pray_, like a fool--that I might hold you in my arms before the night +ended. Not half an hour ago I went out to see if you were coming. And +you were coming. At the corner of the street you were bidding good-night +to--to Ralph Gowan--" + +"Listen!" she burst forth. "Mollie was with me-- + +"Ralph Gowan was with you," he answered her; "it does not matter who +else was there. You had spent those hours in which I wanted you with +him. That was enough,--nothing can alter that." And then all at once he +came and stood near her, and looked down at her with such anguish in his +eyes that she could have shrieked aloud. "It was a poor trick to play, +Dolly," he said; "so poor a one, that it was scarcely like you. Your +coquetries had always a fairer look. The commonest jilt might have +done such a thing as that, and almost have done it better. It is an old +trick, too, this playing the poor fool against the rich one. The only +merit of your play has been that you have kept it up so long." + +He was almost mad, but he might have seen that he was trying her too +far, and that she would break down all at once. The long strain of +the whole evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against +wretchedness--all were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak, +and, failing, fought for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical +sob, like a child's, and then turned white and shivered, without +uttering a word. + +"Yes," he said, "a long time, Dolly"--but his sentence was never ended, +for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay near his +feet quivering for a second, and then lying still. + +He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and +carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to +have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its +simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was +mad enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the +cruel, ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when +he turned away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had +died out of his face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very +youth had dropped away from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams +behind, with something like self-scorn. + +"Good-by," he said; "we have lost a great deal, Dolly--or I have lost +it, I might say. And even you--I believe it pleased even you until +better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too." + +Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out +into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when, +a few minutes later, Aime came running down to answer the strange +summons, she found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face +upon the sofa-cushion, and the great package of those old, sweet, +foolish letters upon the table. + + + +CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + +IT was all over,--all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this +much when she opened her eyes, and found Aime bending over her. + +"Has he gone?" she had asked. "Did he go away and leave me?" + +"Do you mean Grif?" said Aime. + +She made a weak gesture of assent. + +"Yes," Aime answered. "He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and +found you lying here when I came to see what it meant." + +"Then," said Dolly, "all is over,--all is over at last." And she turned +her face upon the cushion and lay so still that she scarcely seemed to +breathe. + +"Take another drink of water, Dolly," said Aime, keeping back her +questions with her usual discretion. "You must, dear." + +But Dolly did not stir. + +"I don't want any more," she said. "I am not going to faint again. You +have no need to be afraid. I don't easily faint, you know, and I should +not have fainted just now only--that the day has been a very hard one +for me, and somehow I lost strength all at once. I am not ill,--only +worn out." + +"You must be very much worn out, then," said Aime; "more worn out than +I ever saw you before. You had better let me help you up-stairs to bed." + +"I don't want to go to bed yet!" in a strange, choked voice, and the +next moment Aime saw her hands clench themselves and her whole frame +begin to shake. "Shut the door and lock it," she said, wildly. "I can't +stop myself. Give me some sal volatile. I can't breathe." And such a fit +of suffocating sobbing came upon her that she writhed and battled for +air. + +Aime flung herself upon her knees by her side, shedding tears herself. + +"Oh, Dolly," she pleaded, "Dolly, darling, don't. Try to help yourself +against it. I know what the trouble is. He went away angry and +disappointed, and it has frightened you. Oh, please don't, darling. He +will come back to-morrow; he will, indeed. He always does, you know, and +he will be so sorry." + +"He has gone forever," Dolly panted, when she could speak. "He will +never come back. To-night has been different from any other time. No," +gasping and sobbing, "it is fate. Fate is against us,--it always was +against us. I think God is against us; and oh, how can He be? He might +pity us,--we tried so hard and loved each other so much. We did n't ask +for anything but each other,--we did n't want anything but that we might +be allowed to cling together all our lives and work and help each other. +Oh, Grif, my darling,--oh, Grif, my dear, my dear!" And the sobs rising +again and conquering her were such an agony that Aime caught her in her +arms. + +"Dolly," she said, "you must not, you must not, indeed. You will die, +you can't bear it." + +"No," she wailed, "I can't bear it,--that is what it is. I can't bear +it. It is too hard to bear. But there is no one to help me,--God won't. +He does not care for us, or He would have given us just one little crumb +out of all He has to give. What can a poor helpless girl be to Him? He +is too high and great to care for our poor little powerless griefs. Oh, +how wicked I am!" in a fresh burst. "See how I rebel at the first real +blow. It is because I am so wicked, perhaps, that all has been taken +from me,--all I had in the world. It is because I loved Grif best. +I have read in books that it was always so. Oh, why is it? I can't +understand it. It seems cruel,--yes, it does seem cruel,--as cruel as +death, to give him to me only that I might suffer when he was taken +away. Oh, Grif, my darling! Grif, my love, my dear!" + +This over again and again, with wild, heart-broken weeping, until she +was so worn out that she could cry no more, and lay upon Aime's arm +upon the cushion, white and exhausted, with heavy purple rings about her +wearied, sunken eyes. It was not until then that Aime heard the whole +truth. She had only been able to guess at it before, and now, hearing +the particulars, she could not help fearing the worst. + +It was just as she had feared it would be; another blow had come upon +him at the very time when he was least able to bear it, and it had been +too much for him. But she could not reveal her forebodings to Dolly. She +must comfort her and persuade her to hope for the best. + +"You must go to bed, Dolly," she said, "and try to sleep, and in the +morning everything will look different. He may come, you know,--it +would be just like him to come before breakfast. But if he does +not come--suppose," hesitatingly,--"suppose I was to write to him, +or--suppose you were to?" + +She was half afraid that pride would rise against this plan, but she +was mistaken. Seven years of love had mastered pride. Somehow or other, +pride had never seemed to come between them in their little quarrels, +each had always been too passionately eager to concede, and too sure +of being met with tenderest penitence. Dolly had always known too +confidently that her first relenting word would touch Grifs heart, and +Grif had always been sure that his first half-softened reproach would +bring the girl to his arms in an impetuous burst of loving repentance. +No, it was scarcely likely that other people's scruples would keep them +apart. So Dolly caught at the proposal almost eagerly. + +"Yes," she said, "I will write and tell him how it was. It was not his +fault, was it, Aime? How could I have borne such a thing myself? It +would have driven me wild, as it did him. It was not unreasonable at all +that he should refuse to listen, in his first excitement, after he had +waited all those hours and suffered such a disappointment. And then to +see what he did. My poor boy! he was not to blame at all. Yes, +yes," feverishly, "I will write to him and tell him. Suppose I write +now--don't you think I had better do it now, and then he will get the +letter in the morning, and he will be sure to come before dinner,--he +will be sure to come, won't he?" + +"He always did," said Aime. + +"Always," said Dolly. "Indeed, I never had to write to him before to +bring him. He always came without being written to. There never was any +one like him for being tender and penitent. You always said so, Aime. +And just think how often I have tried his patience! I sometimes wish I +could help doing things,--flirting, you know, and making a joke of it. +He never flirted in his life, poor darling, and what right had I to +do it? When he comes to-morrow I will tell him how sorry I am for +everything, and I will promise to be better. I have not been half so +good as he has. I wish I had. I should not have hurt him so often if I +had." + +"You have been a little thoughtless sometimes," said Aime. "Perhaps it +_would_ have been better if you could have helped it." + +"A little thoughtless," said Dolly, restlessly. "I have been wickedly +thoughtless sometimes. And I have made so many resolutions and broken +them all. And I ought to have been doubly thoughtful, because he had +so much to bear. If he had been prosperous and happy it would not have +mattered half so much. But it was all my vanity. You don't know how vain +I am, Aime. I quite hate myself when I think of it. It is the +wanting people to admire me,--everybody, men and women, and even +children,--particularly among Lady Augusta's set, where there is a sort +of fun in it. And then I flirt before I know; and then, of course, Grif +cannot help seeing it. I wonder that he has borne with me so long." + +She was quite feverish in her anxiety to condemn herself and exculpate +her lover. She did not droop her face against the pillow, but roused +herself, turning toward Aime, and talking fast and eagerly. A bright +spot of color came out on either cheek, though for the rest she was pale +enough. But to Aime's far-seeing eyes there was something so forced and +unnaturally strung in her sudden change of mood that she felt a touch of +dread Suppose something should crush her newly formed hopes,--something +terrible and unforeseen! She felt a chill strike her to the heart at the +mere thought of such a possibility. She knew Dolly better than the rest +of them did,--knew her highly strung temperament, and feared it, too. +She might be spirited and audacious and thoughtless, but a blow coming +through Grif would crush her to the earth. + +"You--you mustn't set your heart too much upon his getting the letter +in the morning, Dolly," she said. "He might be away when it came, or--or +twenty things, and he might not see it until night, but--" + +"Well," said Dolly, "I will write it at once if you will give me the pen +and ink. The earlier it is posted the earlier he will get it." + +She tried to rise then; but when she stood up her strength seemed to +fail her, and she staggered and caught at Aimee's arm. But the next +minute she laughed. + +"How queer that one little faint should make me so weak!" she said. "I +am weak,--actually. I shall feel right enough when I sit down, though." + +She sat down at the table with her writing materials, and Aime remained +upon the sofa watching her. Her hand trembled when she wrote the first +few lines, but she seemed to become steadier afterward, and her pen +dashed over the paper without a pause for a few minutes. The spot of +color on her cheeks faded and burned by turns,--sometimes it was gone, +and again it was scarlet, and before the second page was finished tears +were falling soft and fast. Once she even stopped to wipe them away, +because they blinded her; but when she closed the envelope she did not +look exactly unhappy, though her whole face was tremulous. + +"He will come back," she said, softly. "He will come back when he reads +this, I know. I wish it was to-morrow. To-morrow night he will be here, +and we shall have our happy evening after all. I can excuse myself to +Miss MacDowlas for another day." + +"Yes," said Aime, a trifle slowly, as she took _it_ from her hand. "I +will send Belinda out with it now." And she carried it out of the room. + +In a few minutes she returned. "She has taken it," she said. "And now +you had better go to bed, Dolly." + +But Dolly's color had faded again, and she was resting her forehead +upon her hands, with a heavy, anxious, worn look, which spoke of sudden +reaction. She lifted her face with a half-absent air. + +"I hope it will be in time for to-night's post," she said. "Do you think +it will?" + +"I am not quite sure, but I hope so. You must come to bed, Dolly." + +She got up without saying more, and followed her out into the hall, but +at the foot of the staircase she stopped. "I have not seen Tod," she +said. "Let us go into 'Toinette's room and ask her to let us have him +to-night. We can carry him up-stairs without wakening him. I have done +it many a time. I should like to have him in my arms to-night." + +So they turned into Mrs. Phil's room, and found that handsome young +matron sitting in her dressing-gown before the fire, brushing out her +great dark mantle of hair. + +"Don't waken Tod," she cried out, as usual; and then when she saw Dolly +she broke into a whispered volley of wondering questions. Where in the +world had she been? What had she been doing with herself until such an +hour? Where was Grif? Was n't he awfully vexed? What had he said when +she came in? All of which inquiries the two parried as best they might. + +As to Tod--well, Tod turned her thoughts in another direction. He was +a beauty, and a king, and a darling, and he was growing sweeter and +brighter every day,--which comments, by the way, were always the first +made upon the subject of the immortal Tod. He was so amiable, too, and +so clever and so little trouble. He went to sleep in his crib every +night at seven, and never awakened until morning. Aunt Dolly might look +at him now with those two precious middle fingers in his little mouth. +And Aunt Dolly did look at him, lifting the cover slightly, and +bending over him as he lay there making a deep dent in his small, plump +pillow,--a very king of babies, soft and round and warm, the white lids +drooped and fast closed over his dark eyes, their long fringes making +a faint shadow on his fair, smooth baby cheeks, the two fingers in +his sweet mouth, the round, cleft chin turned up, the firm, tiny white +pillar of a throat bare. + +"Oh, my bonny baby!" cried Dolly, the words rising from the bottom of +her heart, "how fair and sweet you are!" + +They managed to persuade Mrs. Phil to allow them to take possession +of him for the night; and when they went up-stairs Dolly carried him, +folded warmly in his downy blanket, and held close and tenderly in her +arms. + +"Aunt Dolly's precious!" Aime heard her whispering to him as she gave +him a last soft good-night kiss before they fell asleep. "Aunt Dolly's +comfort! Everything is not gone so long as he is left." + +But she evidently passed a restless night. When Aime awakened in the +morning she found her standing by the bedside, dressed and looking +colorless and heavy-eyed. + +"I never was so glad to see morning in my life," she said. "I thought +the day would never break. I--I wonder how long it will be before Grif +will be reading his letter?" + +"He may get it before nine o'clock," answered Aime; "but don't trouble +about it, or the day will seem twice as long. Take Tod down-stairs and +wash and dress him. It will give you something else to think of." + +The wise one herself had not slept well. Truth to say, she was troubled +about more matters than one. She was troubled to account for the meaning +of Dolly's absence with Gowan. Even in her excitement, Dolly had not +felt the secret quite her own, and had only given a skeleton explanation +of the true state of affairs. + +"It was something about Mollie and Gerald Chan-dos," she had said; "and +if I had not gone it would have been worse than death to Mollie. Don't +ask me to tell you exactly what it was, because I can't. Perhaps Mollie +will explain herself before many days are over. She always tells you +everything, you know. But it was no real fault of here; she was silly, +but not wicked, and she is safe from Gerald Chandos now forever. And _I_ +saved her, Aime." + +And so the wise one had lain awake and thought of all sorts of possible +and impossible escapades. But as she was dressing herself this morning, +the truth flashed upon her, though it was scarcely the whole truth. + +"She was going to elope with him," she exclaimed all at once; "_that_ +was what she was going to do. Oh, Mollie, Mollie, what a romantic goose +you are!" + +And having reached this solution, she closed her small, determined mouth +in discreet silence, resolving to wait for Mollie's confession, which +she knew was sure to come sooner or later. As to Mollie herself, she +came down subdued and silent. She had slept off the effects of her first +shock, but had by no means forgotten it. She would never forget it, poor +child, as long as she lived, and she was so grateful to find herself +safe in the shabby rooms again, that she had very little to say; and +since she was in so novel a mood, the members of the family who were not +in the secret decided that her headache must have been a very severe one +indeed. + +"Don't say anything to her about Grif," Dolly cautioned Aime, "it would +only trouble her." And so the morning passed; but even at twelve o'clock +there was no Grif, and Dolly began to grow restless and walk to and +fro from the window to the hearth at very short intervals. Dinner-hour +arrived, too, but still no arrival; and Dolly sat at the table, among +them, eating nothing and saying little enough. How could she talk when +every step upon the pavement set her heart bounding? When dinner was +over and Phil had gone back to the studio, she looked so helpless and +woe-begone that Aime felt constrained to comfort her. + +"It may have been delayed," she whispered to her, "or he may have left +the house earlier than usual, and so won't see it until to-night. He +will be here to-night, Dolly, depend upon it." + +And so they waited. Ah, how that window was watched that afternoon! How +often Dolly started from her chair and ran to look out, half suffocated +by her heart-beatings! But it was of no avail. As twilight came on +she took her station before it, and knelt upon the carpet for an hour +watching; but in the end she turned away all at once, and, running +to the fire again, caught Tod up in her arms, and startled Aime by +bursting into a passion of tears. + +"Oh, Tod!" she sobbed, "he is not coming! He will never come again,--he +has left us forever! Oh, Tod, love poor Aunt Dolly, darling." And she +hid her face on the little fellow's shoulder, crying piteously. + +She did not go to the window again. When she was calmer, she remained on +her chair, colorless and exhausted, but clinging to Tod still in a queer +pathetic way, and letting him pull at her collar and her ribbons and her +hair. The touch of his relentless baby hands and his pretty, tyrannical, +restless ways seemed to help her a little and half distract her +thoughts. + +She became quieter and quieter as the evening waned; indeed, she was so +quiet that Aime wondered. She was strangely pale; but she did not start +when footsteps were heard on the street, and she ceased turning toward +the door when it opened. + +"He--he may come in the morning," Aime faltered as they went up-stairs +to bed. + +"No, he will not," she answered her, quite steadily. "It will be as I +said it would,--he will never come again." + +But when they reached their room, the unnatural, strained quiet gave +way, and she flung herself upon the bed, sobbing and fighting against +just the hysterical suffering which had conquered her the night before. + +It was the very ghost of the old indomitable Dolly who rose the next +morning. Her hands shook as she dressed her hair, and there were shadows +under her eyes. But she must go back to Brabazon Lodge, notwithstanding. + +"I can say I have a nervous headache," she said to Aime. "Nervous +headaches are useful things." + +"If a letter comes," said Aime, "I will bring it to you myself." + +The girl turned toward her suddenly, her eyes hard and bright and her +mouth working. + +"I have had my last letter," she said. "My last letters came to me when +Grif laid that package upon the table. He has done with me." + +"Done with you?" cried Aime, frightened by her manner. "With _you_, +Dolly?" + +Then for the first time Dolly flushed scarlet to the very roots of her +hair. + +"Yes," she said, "he has done with me. If there had been half a chance +that he would ever come near me again, the letter I wrote to him that +night would have brought him. A word of it would have brought him,--the +first word. But he is having his revenge by treating it with contempt. +He is showing me that it is too late, and that no humility on my part +can touch him. I scarcely could have thought that of him," dropping into +a chair by the toilet-table and hiding her face in her hands. + +"It is not like Grif to let me humble myself for nothing. And I did +humble myself,--ah, how I did humble myself! That letter,--if you could +have seen it, Aime,--it was all on fire with love for him. I laid +myself under his feet,--and he has trodden me down! Grif--Grif, it was +n't like you,--it was n't worthy of you,--it was n't indeed!" + +Her worst enemy would have felt herself avenged if she had heard the +anguish in her voice. She was crushed to the earth under this last great +blow of feeling that he had altered so far. Grif,--her whilom greatest +help and comfort,--the best gift God had given her! Dear, old, tender, +patient fellow! as she had been wont to call him in her fits of +penitence. + +Grif, whose arms had always been open to her at her best and at her +worst, who had loved her and borne with her, and waited upon her and +done her bidding since they were both little more than children. When +had Grif ever turned from her before? Never. When had Grif ever been +cold or unfaithful in word or deed? Never. When had he ever failed her? +Never--never--never--until now! And now that he had failed her at last, +she felt that the bitter end had come. The end to everything,--to all +the old hopes and dreams, to all the old sweet lovers' quarrels and +meetings and partings, to all their clinging together, to all the +volumes and volumes of love and trust that lay in the past, to all the +world of simple bliss that lay still unrevealed in their lost future, to +all the blessed old days when they had pictured to each other what that +future was to be. It had all gone for nothing in the end. It must all +have gone for nothing, when Grif--a new Grif--not her own true, stanch, +patient darling--not her own old lover--could read her burning, tender, +suffering words and pass them by without a word of answer. And with +this weight of despair and pain upon her heart, she went back to the +wearisome routine of Brabazon Lodge,--went back heavy with humiliation +and misery which she scarcely realized,--went back suffering as no one +who knew her--not even Grif himself--could ever have understood that it +was possible for her to suffer. No innocent coquetries now, no spirit, +no jests; for the present at least she had done with them, too. + +"You are not in your usual spirits, my dear," said Miss MacDowlas. + +"No," she answered, quietly, "I am not." + +This state of affairs continued for four days, and then one morning, +sitting at her sewing in the breakfast-room, she was startled almost +beyond self-control by a servant's announcement that a visitor had +arrived. + +"One of your sisters, ma'am," said the parlor-maid. "Not the youngest, I +think." + +She was in the room in two seconds, and flew to Aime, trembling all +over with excitement. + +"Not a letter!" she cried, hysterically. "It is n't a letter,--it can't +be!" And she put her hand to her side and fairly panted. + +The poor little wise one confronted her with something like fear. She +could not bear to tell her the ill news she had come to break. + +"Dolly, dear!" she said, "please sit down; and--please don't look at me +so. It isn't good news. I must tell you the truth; it is bad news, cruel +news. Oh, don't look so!" + +They were standing near the sofa, and Dolly gave one little moan, and +sank down beside it. + +"Cruel news!" she cried, throwing up her hand. "Yes, I might have known +that,--I might have known that it would be cruel, if it was news at all +Every one is cruel,--the whole world is cruel; even Grif,--even Grif!" + +Aime burst into tears. + +"Oh, Dolly, I did my best for you!" she said. "I did, indeed; but you +must try to bear it, dear,--it is your own letter back again." + +Then the kneeling figure seemed to stiffen and grow rigid in a second. +Dolly turned her deathly face, with her eyes aflame and dilated. + +"Did _he_ send it back to me?" she asked, in a slow, fearful whisper. + +Her expression was so hard and dreadful a one that Aime sprang to her +side and caught hold of her. + +"No,--no!" she said; "not so bad as that! He would never have done that. +He has never had it. He has gone away; we don't know where. It came from +the dead-letter office." + +Dolly took the letter from her and opened it slowly, and there, as she +knelt, read it, word for word, as if it had been something she had never +seen before. Then she put it back into the envelope and laid it down. + +"A dead letter!" she said. "A dead letter! If _he_ had sent it back to +me, I think it would have cured me; but _now_ there is no cure for me at +all. If he had read it, he would have come,--if he had _only_ read it; +but it is a dead letter, and he is gone." + +There were no tears, the blow had been too heavy. It was only Aime +who had tears to shed, and it was Dolly who tried to console her in a +strained, weary sort of way. + +"Don't cry," she said, "it is all over now. Perhaps the worst part of +the pain is past. There will be no house at Putney, and the solitary +rose-bush will bloom for some one else; they may sell the green sofa, +now, as cheap as they will, we shall never buy it. Our seven years of +waiting have all ended in a dead letter." + + + +CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + +AND so Grif disappeared from the haunts of Vagabondia, and was seen no +more. And to Aime was left the delicate task of explaining the cause +of his absence, which, it must be said, she did in a manner at once +creditable to her tact and affection for both Dolly and the unconscious +cause of all her misery. + +"There has been a misunderstanding," she said, "which was no fault +of Dolly's, and scarcely a fault of Grif's; and it has ended very +unhappily, and Grif has gone away, and just at present it seems as if +everything was over,--but I can't help hoping it is not so bad as that." + +"Oh, he will come back again--safe enough," commented Phil, +philosophically, holding paint-brush No. 1 in his mouth, while he +manipulated with No. 2. "He will come back in sackcloth and ashes; he is +just that sort, you know,--thunder and lightning, fire and tow. And they +will make it up ecstatically in secret, and pretend that nothing has +been the matter, and there will be no going into the parlor for weeks +without whistling all the way across the hall." + +"I always go in backward after they have had a quarrel," said Mollie, +looking up from a half-made pinafore of Tod's, which, in the zeal of her +repentance, she had decided on finishing. + +"Not a bad plan, either," said Phil "We all know how _their_ differences +of opinion terminate. As to matters being at an end between them, that +is all nonsense; they could n't live without each other six months. +Dolly would take to unbecoming bonnets, and begin to neglect her back +hair, and Grif would take to prussic acid or absinthe." + +"Well, I hope he _will_ come back," said Aime; "but, in the meantime, I +want to ask you to let the affair rest altogether, and not say a word to +Dolly when she comes. It will be the kindest thing you can do. Just let +things go on as they have always done, and ignore every thing new you +may see." + +Phil looked up from his easel in sudden surprise; something in her +voice startled him, serenely as he was apt to view all unexpected +intelligence. + +"I say," he broke out, "you don't mean that Dolly is very much cut up +about it?" + +The fair little oracle hesitated; remembering Dolly's passionate despair +and grief over that "dead letter," she could scarcely trust herself to +speak. + +"Yes," she answered at last, feeling it would be best only to commit +herself in Phil's own words, "she is very much cut up." + +"Whew!" whistled Phil; "that is worse than I thought!" And the matter +ended in his going back to his picture and painting furiously for a few +minutes, with an almost reflective air. + +They did not see anything of Dolly for weeks. She wrote to them now and +then, but she did not pay another visit to Bloomsbury Place. It was +not the old home to her now, and she dreaded seeing it in its new +aspect,--the aspect which was desolate of Grif. Most of her letters +came to Aime; but she rarely referred to her trouble, rather seeming to +avoid it than otherwise. And the letters themselves were bright enough, +seeming, too. She had plenty to say about Miss MacDowlas and their +visitors and her own duties; indeed, any one but Aime would have been +puzzled by her courage and apparent good spirits. But Aime saw below +the surface, and understood, and, understanding, was fonder of her than +ever. + +As both Dolly and herself had expected, Mollie did not keep her secret +from the oracle many weeks. It was too much for her to bear alone, and +one night, in a fit of candor and remorse, she poured out everything +from first to last, all her simple and unsophisticated dreams of +grandeur, all her gullibility, all her danger,--everything, indeed, but +the story of her pitiful little fancy for Ralph Gowan. She could not +give that up, even to Aime, though at the close of her confidence she +was unable to help referring to him. + +"And as to Mr. Gowan," she said, "how can I ever speak to him again! +but, perhaps, he would not speak to me. He must think I am wicked and +bold and hardened--and bad," with a fresh sob at every adjective. "Oh, +dear! oh, dear!" burying her face in Aime's lap, "if I had only stayed +at home and been good, like you. He could have respected me, at least, +couldn't he? And now--oh, what am I to do!" + +Aime could not help sighing. If she only _had_ stayed at home, how much +happier they all might have been! But she had promised Dolly not to add +to her unhappiness by hinting at the truth, so she kept her own counsel. + +It was fully three months before they saw Ralph Gowan again. He had gone +on the Continent, they heard. A feeling of delicacy had prompted the +journey. As long as he remained in London, he could scarcely drop out +of his old friendly position at Bloomsbury Place, and he felt that for +a while at least Mollie would scarcely find it easy to face him. So he +went away and rambled about until he thought she would have time to get +over her first embarrassment. + +But at the end of the three months he came back, and one afternoon +surprised them all by appearing amongst them again. Mollie, sitting +perseveringly at work over her penitential sewing, shrank a little, +and dropped her eyelids when he came in, but she managed to behave +with creditable evenness of manner after all, and the rest welcomed him +warmly. + +"I have been to Brabazon Lodge," he said at length to Aime. "I spent +Monday evening there, and was startled at the change I found in your +sister. I did not know she was ill." + +Aime started herself, and looked up at him with a frightened face. + +"Ill!" she said. "Did you say ill?" + +It was his turn to be surprised then. + +"I thought her looking ill," he answered. "She seemed to me to be both +paler and thinner. But you must not let me alarm you,--I thought, of +course, that you would know." + +"She has never mentioned it in her letters," Aime said. "And she has +not been home for three months, so we have not seen her." + +"Don't let me give you a false impression," returned Gowan, eagerly. +"She seemed in excellent spirits, and was quite her old self; indeed, I +scarcely should imagine that she herself placed sufficient stress upon +the state of her health. She insisted that she was well when I spoke to +her about it." + +"I am very glad you told me," answered Aime. "She is too indifferent +sometimes. I am afraid she would not have let us know. I thank you, very +much." + +He had other thanks before he left the house. As he was going out, +Mollie, in her character of porteress, opened the hall door for +him, and, having opened it, stood there with Tod's new garment +half concealed, a pair of timid eyes uplifted to his face, a small, +trembling, feverish hand held out. + +"Mr. Gowan," she said, in a low, fluttering voice. "Oh, if you please--" + +He took the little hot hand, feeling some tender remorse for not having +tried to draw her out more and help her out of her painful shyness and +restraint. + +"What is it, Mollie?" he asked. + +"I want--I want," fluttering all over,--"I want to thank you better than +I did that--that dreadful night. I was so frightened I could scarcely +understand. I understand more--now--and I want to tell you how grateful +I am--and how grateful I shall be until I die--and I want to ask you to +try not to think I was very wicked. I did not mean to be wicked--I was +only vain and silly, and I thought it would be such a grand thing to--to +have plenty of new dresses," hanging her sweet, humble face, "and to +wear diamonds, and be Lady Chandos, if--if Mr. Chandos came into the +title. Of course that was wicked, but it was n't--I was n't as bad as I +seemed. I was so vain that--that I was quite sure he loved me, and would +be very glad if I married him. He always said he would." And the tears +rolled fast down her cheeks. + +"Poor Mollie!" said Gowan, patting the trembling hand as if it had been +a baby's. "Poor child!" + +"But," Mollie struggled on, penitently, "I shall never be so foolish +again. And I am going to try to be good--like Aime. I am learning to +mend things; and I am beginning to make things for Tod. This," holding +up her work as proof, "is a dress for him. It is n't very well done," +with innocent dubiousness; "but Aime says I am improving. And so, if +you please, would you be so kind as not to think quite so badly of me?" + +It was all so humble and pretty and remorseful that he was quite +touched by it. That old temptation to kiss and console her made it +quite dangerous for him to linger. She was such a lovable sight with her +tear-wet cheeks, and that dubious but faithfully worked-at garment of +Tod's in her hand. + +"Mollie," he said, "will you believe what I say to you?" + +"Oh, yes!" eagerly. + +"Then I say to you that I never believed you wicked for an instant,--not +for one instant; and now I believe it less than ever; on the contrary, +I believe you are a good, honest little creature. Let us forget Gerald +Chandos,--he is not worth remembering. And go on with Tod's pinafores +and dresses, my dear, and don't be discouraged if they are a failure at +first,--though to my eyes that dress is a most sumptuous affair. And +as to being like Aime, you cannot be like any one better and wiser and +sweeter than that same little maiden. There! I mean every word I have +said." + +"Are you sure?" faltered Mollie. + +"Yes," he replied, "quite sure." + +He shook hands with her, and, bidding her goodnight, left her standing +in the narrow hall all aglow with joy. And he, outside, was communing +with himself as he walked away. + +"She is as sweet in her way as--as the other," he was saying. "And as +well worth loving. And what a face she has, if one only saw it with a +lover's eyes! What a face she has, even seeing it with such impartial +eyes as mine!" + +"My dear Dolly!" said Aime. + +"My dear Aime!" said Dolly. + +These were the first words the two exchanged when, the evening after +Ralph Gowan's visit, the anxious young oracle presented herself at +Brabazon Lodge, and was handed into Dolly's bedroom. + +Visitors were expected, and Dolly had been dressing, and was just +putting the finishing touches to her toilet when Aime came in, and, +seeing her as she turned from the glass to greet her, the wise one could +scarcely speak, and, even after she had been kissed most heartily, could +only hold the girl's hand and stand looking up into her changed face, +feeling almost shocked. + +"Oh, dear me, Dolly!" she said again. "Oh, my dear, what have you been +doing to yourself?" + +"Doing!" echoed Dolly, just as she would have spoken three or four +months ago. "I have been doing nothing, and rather enjoying it. What is +the matter with me?" glancing into the mirror. "Pale? That is the result +of Miss MacDowlas's beneficence, you see. She has presented me with this +grand black silk gown, and it makes me look pale. Black always did, you +know." + +But notwithstanding her readiness of speech, it did not need another +glance to understand what Ralph Gowan had meant when he said that she +was altered. The lustreless heavy folds of her black silk might contrast +sharply with her white skin, but they could not bring about that subtle, +almost incomprehensible change in her whole appearance. It was such a +subtle change that it was difficult to comprehend. The round, lissome +figure she had always been so pardonably vain about, and Grif had so +admired, had fallen a little, giving just a hint at a greater change +which might show itself sooner or later; her face seemed a trifle more +clearly cut than it ought to have been, and the slender throat, set in +its surrounding Elizabethan frill of white, seemed more slender than +it had used to be. Each change was slight enough in itself, but all +together gave a shadowy suggestion of alteration to affectionately quick +eyes. + +"You are ill," said Aime. "And you never told me. It was wrong of you. +Don't tell me it is your black dress; your eyes are too big and bright +for any one who is well, and your hand is thinner than it ever was +before. Why, I can feel the difference as I hold it, and it is as +feverish as it can be." + +"You good, silly little thing!" said Dolly, laughing. "I am not ill at +all. I have caught a cold, perhaps, but that is all." + +"No you have not," contradicted Aime, with pitiful sharpness. "You have +not caught cold, and you must not tell me so. You are ill, and you have +been ill for weeks. The worst of colds could never make you look like +this. Mr. Gowan might well be startled and wonder--" + +"Mr. Gowan!" Dolly interrupted her. "Did _he_ say that he was startled?" + +"Yes, he did," Aime answered. "And that was what brought me here. He +was at Bloomsbury Place last night and told me all about you, and I made +up my mind that minute that I would come and judge for myself." + +Then the girl gave in. She sat down on a chair by the dressing-table +and rested her forehead on her hand, laughing faintly, as if in protest +against her own subjugation. + +"Then I shall have to submit," she said. "The fact is, I sometimes fancy +I do feel weaker than I ought to. It is n't like me to be weak. I +was always so strong, you know,--stronger than all the rest of you, +I thought. Miss MacDowlas says I do not look well. I suppose," with a +half-sigh, "that every one will see it soon. Aime," hesitating, "don't +tell them at home." + +Aime slipped an arm around her, and drew her head--dressed in all the +old elaborateness of pretty coils and braids--upon her own shoulder. + +"Darling," she whispered, trying to restrain her tears, "I must tell +them at home, because I must take you home to be nursed." + +"No, no!" said Dolly, starting, "that would never do. It would never +do even to think of it. I am not so ill as that,--not ill enough to be +nursed. Besides," her voice sinking all at once, "I could n't go home, +Aime,--I could not bear to go home now. That is why I have stayed away +so long. I believe it would _kill_ me!" + +It was impossible for Aime to hear this and be silent longer. She had, +indeed, only been waiting for some reference to the past. + +"I knew it was that," she cried. "I knew it the moment Mr. Gowan told +me. And I have feared it from the first. Nothing but that could have +broken you down like this. Dolly, if Grif could see you now, he would +give his heart's blood to undo what he has done." + +The pale little hands lying upon the black dress began to tremble in a +strange, piteous weakness. + +"One cannot forget so much in so short a time," Dolly pleaded. "And it +is so much,--more than even you think. One cannot forget seven years in +three months,--give me seven months, Aime. I shall be better in time, +when I have forgotten." + +Forgotten! Even those far duller of perception than Aime could have +seen that she would not soon forget. She had not begun in the right way +to forget. The pain which had made the pretty figure and the soft, round +face look faintly worn, was sharper to-day than it had been even three +months before, and it was gaining in sharpness every day, nay, every +hour. + +"The days are so long," she said, plaiting the silk of her dress on-the +restless hands. "We are so quiet, except when we have visitors, and +somehow visitors begin to tire me. I scarcely ever knew what it was +to be tired before. I don't care even to scatter the Philistines now," +trying to smile. "I am not even roused by the prospect of meeting Lady +Augusta tonight. I forgot to tell you she was coming, did n't I? How she +would triumph if she knew how I have fallen and--and how miserable I +am! She used to say I had not a thought above the cut of my dresses. She +never knew about--_him_, poor fellow!" + +It was curious to see how she still clung to that tender old pitying way +of speaking of Grif. + +Aimee began to cry over her again. + +"You must come home, Dolly," she said. "You must, indeed. You will get +worse and worse if you stay here. I will speak to Miss MacDowlas myself. +You say she is kind to you." + +"Dear little woman," said Dolly, closing her eyes as she let her head +rest upon the girl's shoulder. "Dear, kind little woman! indeed it will +be best for me to stay here. It is as I said,--indeed it is. If I were +to go home I should _die!_ Oh, don't you _know_ how cruel it would be! +To sit there in my chair and see his old place empty,--to sit and +hear the people passing in the street and know I should never hear his +footstep again,--to see the door open again and again, and know he would +never, never pass through. It would break my heart,--it would break my +heart!" + +"It is broken now!" cried Aime, in a burst of grief, and she could +protest no more. + +But she remained as long as she well could, petting and talking to her. +She knew better than to offer her threadbare commonplace comfort, so +she took refuge in talking of life at Bloomsbury Place,--about Tod and +Mollie and Toinette, and the new picture Phil was at work upon. But it +was a hard matter for her to control herself sufficiently to conceal +that she was almost in an agony of anxiousness and foreboding. What was +she to do with this sadly altered Dolly, the mainspring of whose bright, +spirited life was gone? How was she to help her if she could not restore +Grif,--it was only Grif she wanted,--and where was he? It was just +as she had always said it would be,--without Grif, Dolly was Dolly +no longer,--for Grif's sake her faithful, passionate girl's heart was +breaking slowly. + +Lady Augusta, encountering her ex-governess in the drawing-room that +evening, raised her eyeglass to that noble feature, her nose, and +condescended a questioning inspection, full of disapproval of the heavy, +well-falling black silk and the Elizabethan frill. + +"You are looking shockingly pale and thin," she said. + +Dolly glanced at her reflection in an adjacent mirror. She only smiled +faintly, in silence. + +"I was not aware that you were ill," proceeded her ladyship. + +"I cannot say that I am ill," Dolly answered. "How is Phemie?" + +"Euphemia," announced Lady Augusta, "is well, and I _trust_" as if she +rather doubted her having so far overcome old influences of an evil +nature,--"I _trust_ improving, though I regret to hear from her +preceptress that she is singularly deficient in application to her +musical lessons." + +Dolly thought of the professor with the lumpy face, and smiled again. +Phemie's despairing letters to herself sufficiently explained why her +progress was so slow. + +"I hope," said her ladyship to Miss MacDowlas, afterward, "that you +are satisfied with Dorothea's manner of filling her position in your +household." + +"I never was so thoroughly satisfied in my life," returned the old lady, +stiffly. "She is a very quickwitted, pleasantly natured girl, and I am +extremely fond of her." + +"Ah," waving a majestic and unbending fan of carved ivory. "She has +possibly improved then. I observe that she is going off very much,--in +the matter of looks, I mean." + +"I heard a gentleman remark, a few minutes ago," replied Miss MacDowlas, +"that the girl looked like a white rose, and I quite agreed with him; +but I am fond of her, as I said, and you are not." + +Her ladyship shuddered faintly, but she did not make any further +comment, perhaps feeling that her hostess was too powerful to encounter. + +At midnight the visitors went their several ways, and after they had +dispersed and the rooms were quiet once again, Miss MacDowlas sent her +companion to bed, or, at least, bade her good-night. + +"You had better go at once," she said. "I will remain to give orders to +the servants. You look tired. The excitement has been too much for you." + +So Dolly thanked her and left the room; but Miss MacDowlas did not hear +her ascend the stairs, and accordingly, after listening a moment or so, +went to the room door and looked out into the hall. And right at the +foot of the staircase lay Dolly Crewe, the lustreless, trailing black +dress making her skin seem white as marble, her pretty face turned half +downward upon her arm. + +Half an hour later the girl returned to consciousness to find herself +lying comfortably in bed, the chamber empty save for herself and Miss +MacDowlas, who was standing at her side watching her. + +"Better?" she said. "That is right, my dear. The evening was too much +for you, as I was afraid it would be. You are not as strong as you +should be." + +"No," Dolly answered, quietly. + +There was a silence of a few minutes, during which she closed her eyes +again; but she heard Miss MacDowlas fidgeting a little, and at last she +heard her speak. + +"My dear," she said, "I think I ought to tell you something. When you +fell, I suppose you must somehow or other have pressed the spring of +your locket, for it was open when I went to you, and--I saw the face +inside it." + +"Grif," said Dolly, in a tired voice, "Grif." + +And then she remembered how she had written to him about what this very +_dnouement_ would be when it came. How strange, how wearily strange, it +was to think that it should come about in such a way as this! + +"My nephew," said Miss MacDowlas. "Griffith Donne." + +"Yes," said Dolly, briefly. "I was engaged to him." + +"Was!" echoed Miss MacDowlas. "Did he behave badly to you, my dear?" + +"No, I behaved badly to him--and that is why I am ill." + +Miss MacDowlas blew her nose. + +"How long?" she asked, at length. "May I ask how long you were engaged +to each other, my dear? Don't answer me if you do not wish." + +"I was engaged to him," faltered the girlish voice,--"we were all the +world to each other for seven years--for seven long years." + + + +CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + +IN the morning of one of the hot days in June, Mollie, standing at the +window of Phil's studio, turned suddenly toward the inmates of the room +with an exclamation. + +"Phil!" she said, "Toinette! There is a carriage drawing up before the +door." + +"Lady Augusta?" said Toinette, making a dart at Tod. + +"Confound Lady Augusta!" ejaculated Phil, devoutly. "That woman has a +genius for presenting herself at inopportune times." + +"But it is n't Lady Augusta," Mollie objected. "It is n't the Bilberry +carriage at all. Do you think I don't know 'the ark'?" + +"You ought to by this time," returned Phil. "I do, to my own deep +grief." + +"It is the Brabazon Lodge carriage!" cried Mollie, all at once. "Miss +MacDowlas is getting out, and--yes, here is Dolly!" + +"And Tod just washed and dressed!" said Mrs. Phil, picking up her +offspring with an air of self-congratulation. "Miracle of miracles! The +Fates begin to smile upon us. Phil, how is my back hair?" + +"All right," returned Phil. "I suppose I shall have to present myself, +too." + +It was necessary that they should all present themselves, they found. +Miss MacDowlas wished to form the acquaintance of the whole family, it +appeared, and apart from this her visit had rather an important object. + +"It is a sort of farewell visit," she explained, "though, of course, the +farewell is only to be a temporary one. We find London too hot for us, +and we are going to try Switzerland. The medical man thinks a change +will be beneficial to your sister." + +They all looked at Dolly then,--at Dolly in her delicate, crisp summer +bravery and her pretty summer hat; but it was neither hat nor dress that +drew their eyes upon her all at once in that new questioning way. But +Dolly only laughed,--a soft, nervous laugh, however,--and played with +her much-frilled parasol. + +"Miss MacDowlas," she said, "is good enough to fancy I am not so well as +I ought to be, Tod," bending her face low over the pretty little +fellow, who had trotted to her knee. "What do you think of Aunt Dolly's +appearing in the character of invalid? It sounds like the best of jokes, +does n't it, Tod?" + +They tried to smile responsively, all of them, but the effort was not a +success. Despite all her pretence of brightness and coquettish attire, +there was not one of them who had not been startled when their first +greeting was over. Under the triumph of a hat, her face showed almost +sharply cut, her skin far too transparently colorless, her eyes much too +large and bright. The elaborately coiled braids of hair seemed almost +too heavy for the slender throat to bear, and no profusion of trimming +could hide that the little figure was worn. The flush and glow and +spirit had died away from her. It was not the Dolly who had been wont +to pride herself upon ruling supreme in Vagabondia, who sat there before +them making them wonder; it was a new creature, who seemed quite a +stranger to them. + +They were glad to see how fond of her Miss MacDowlas appeared to be. +They had naturally not had a very excellent opinion of Miss MacDowlas in +the past days; but the fact that Dolly had managed to so win upon her as +to bring out her best side, quite softened their hearts. She was not +so grim, after all. Her antipathy to Grif had evidently been her most +unpleasant peculiarity, and now, seeing her care for this new Dolly, who +needed care so much, they were rather touched. + +When the farewells had been said, the carriage had driven away, and they +had returned to the studio, a silence seemed to fall upon them, one and +all. 'Toinette sat in her chair, holding Tod, without speaking; Mollie +stood near her with a wondering, downcast air; Phil went to the window, +and, neglecting his picture wholly for the time being, looked out into +the street, whistling softly. + +At length he turned round to Aime. + +"Aime," he said, abruptly, "how long has this been going on?" + +"You mean this change?" said Aime, in a low voice. + +"Yes." + +"For three months," she answered. "I did not like to tell you because +I knew _she_ would not like it; but it dates from the time Grif went +away." + +Mrs. Phil burst into an impetuous gush of tears, hiding her handsome, +girlish face on Tod's neck. + +"It is a shame!" she cried out. "It is a cruel, burning shame! Who would +ever have thought of Grif's treating her like this?" + +"Yes," said Phil; "and who would ever have thought that Dolly would +have broken down? Dolly! By George! I can't believe it. If I am able to +judge, it seems time that she should try Switzerland or somewhere else. +Aime, has she heard nothing of him?" + +"Nothing." + +The young man flushed hotly. + +"Confound it!" he burst forth. "It looks as if the fellow was a +dishonorable scamp. And yet he is the last man I should ever have +fancied would prove a scamp." + +"But he has not proved himself a scamp yet," said Aime, in a troubled +tone. "And Dolly would not like to hear you say so. And if you knew the +whole truth you _wouldn't_ say so. He has been tried too far, and he has +been impetuous and rash, but it was his love for Dolly that made him so. +And wherever he may be, Phil, I know he is as wretched and hopeless as +Dolly herself could be at the worst. It has all been misunderstanding +and mischance." + +"He has broken Dolly's heart, nevertheless," cried Mrs. Phil. "And if +she dies--" + +"Dies!" cried out Mollie, opening her great eyes and turning pale all at +once. "Dies! Dolly?" + +"Hush!" said Aime, trembling and losing color herself. "Oh, +hush!--don't say such things. It sounds so dreadful,--it is too dreadful +to think of!" + +And so it came about that on another of these hot June days there +appeared at the _table 'hte_ of a certain well-conducted and already +well-filled inn at Lake Geneva two new arrivals,--a tall, thin, elderly +lady of excessively English exterior, and a young person who attracted +some attention,--a girl who wore a long black dress, and had a +picturesque Elizabethan frill about her too slender throat, and who, +in spite of her manner and the clearness of her bright voice, was too +whitely transparent of complexion and too finely cut of face to look as +strong as a girl of one or two and twenty ought to be. + +The people who took stock of them, after the manner of all unoccupied +hotel sojourners on the lookout for sensations, noticed this. One or +two of them even observed that, on entering the room after the slight +exertion of descending the staircase, the girl was slightly out of +breath and seemed glad to sit down, and that, her companion evidently +making some remark upon the fact, she half laughed, as if wishing to +make light of it; and they noticed, too, that her naturally small hands +were so very slender that her one simple little ring of amethyst and +pearls slipped loosely up and down her finger. + +They were not ordinary tourists, these new arrivals, it was clear. Their +attire told that at once. They had removed their travelling dresses, and +looked as if they had quite made up their minds to enjoy their customary +mode of life as if they had been at home. They had no courier, +the wiseacres had ascertained, and they had brought a neat English +serving-woman, who seemed to know her business marvellously well and be +by no means unaccustomed to travelling. + +"Aunt and niece!" commented one gentleman, surveying Dolly over his +soup. "A nice little creature,--the niece." And he mentally resolved to +cultivate her acquaintance. But it was not such an easy matter. The new +arrivals were unlike ordinary tourists in other respects than in +their settled mode of life. They did not seem to care to form chance +acquaintance with their fellow guests. They lived quietly and, unless +when driving out together or taking short, unfatiguing strolls, remained +much in their own apartments. They appeared at the _table d'hte_ +occasionally; but though they were pleasant in manner they were not +communicative, and so, after a week or so, people tired of asking +questions about them and lapsed into merely exchanging greetings, +and looking on with some interest at any changes they observed in the +pretty, transparent, though always bright face, and the pliant, soft +young figure. + +Thus Miss MacDowlas and her companion "tried Switzerland." + +"It will do you good, my dear, and brace you up," the elder lady had +said; and from the bottom of her heart she had hoped it would. + +And did it? + +Well, the last time Dolly had "tried Switzerland," she had tried it in +the capacity of Lady Augusta's governess, and she had held in charge +a host of rampant young Bilberrys, who secretly loathed their daily +duties, and were not remarkable in the matter of filial piety, and were +only reconciled to existence by the presence of their maternal parent's +greatest trial, that highly objectionable Dorothea Crewe. So, taking +Lady Augusta in conjunction with her young charges, the girl had often +felt her lot by no means the easiest in the world; but youth and spirit, +and those oft-arriving letters, had helped her to bear a great deal, +and so there was still something sweet about the memory. Oh, those +old letters--those foolish, passionate, tender letters--written in the +dusty, hot London office, read with such happiness, and answered on such +closely penned sheets of foreign paper! How she had used to watch for +them, and carry them to her small bedroom and read them again and again, +kneeling on the floor by the open window, the fresh, soft summer breezes +from the blue lake far below stirring her hair and kissing her forehead! +How doubly and trebly fair she had been wont to fancy everything looked +on that "letter day" of hers,--that red-letter day,--that golden-letter +day! + +The very letters she had written then lay in her trunk now, tied +together in a bundle, just as Grif had brought them and laid them down +upon the table when he gave her up forever. Her "dead letter" lay with +them,--that last, last appeal, which had never reached his heart, and +never would. She had written her last letter to him, and he his last to +her. + +And now she had been brought to "try Switzerland" and Lake Geneva as a +Lethe. + +But she had determined to be practical and courageous, and bear it as +best she might. It would not have been like her to give way at once +without a struggle. She did not believe in lovelorn damsels, who pined +away and died of broken hearts, and made all their friends uncomfortable +by so doing. She made a struggle, and refused to give up. She grew +shadowy and fair; but it was under protest, and she battled against the +change she felt creeping upon her so slowly but so surely. She showed +a brave face to people, and tried to be as bright and ready-witted +as ever; and if she failed it was not her own fault. She fought hard +against her sleepless nights and weary days; and when she lay awake +hour after hour hearing the clock strike, it was not because she made +no effort to compose herself, it was only because the delicate wheels +of thought _would_ work against her helpless will, and it was worse than +useless to close her eyes when she could see so plainly her lost +lover's desperate, anguished face, and hear so distinctly his strained, +strangely altered voice: "No, it is too late for that now,--that is all +over!" And he had once loved her better than his life! + +So it was that, try as she might, she could not make Switzerland a +success. When she went down to the table d'hte, people saw that instead +of growing stronger she was growing more frail, and the exertion of +coming down the long flight of stairs tried her more than it had seemed +to do that first day. Sometimes she had a soft, lovely, dangerous color +on her cheeks, and her eyes looked almost translucent; and then again +the color was gone, her skin was white and transparent, and her eyes +were shadowy and languid. When the hot July days came in, the ring of +pearls and amethyst would stay on the small worn hand no longer, and so +was taken off and hung with the little bunch of coquettish "charms" upon +her chain. But she was not conquered yet, and the guests and servants +often heard her laughing, and making Miss MacDowlas laugh as they sat +together in their private parlor. + +The two were sitting thus together one Saturday early in July,--Dolly in +a loose white wrapper, resting in a low basket chair by the open window, +and fanning herself languidly,--when a visitor was announced, and the +moment after the announcement a tall young lady rushed into the room +and clasped Dolly unceremoniously in her arms, either not observing or +totally ignoring Miss MacDowlas's presence. + +"Dolly!" she cried, kneeling down by the basket chair and speaking so +fast that her words tumbled over each other, and her sentences were +curiously mingled. "Oh! if you please, dear, I know it was n't polite, +and I never meant to do it in such an unexpected, awfully rude way; and +what mamma would say, I am sure I cannot tell, unless go into dignified +convulsions, and shudder herself stiff; but how could I help it, when +I came expecting to see you as bright and lovely as ever, and caught a +glimpse of you through the door, as the servant spoke, sitting here so +white and thin and tired-looking! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how ever can it +be!" + +"My dear Phemie!" said Dolly, laughing and crying both at once, through +weakness and sympathy,--for of course poor, easily moved Phemie had +burst into a flood of affectionate tears. "My dear child, how excited +you are, and how pleasant it is to see you! How did you manage to come?" + +"The professor with the lumpy face--poor, pale darling--I mean you, not +him," explained the eldest Miss Bilberry, clinging to her ex-governess +as if she was afraid of seeing her float through the open window. "The +professor with the lumpy face, Dolly; which shows he is not so horrid as +I always thought him, and I am very sorry for being so inconsiderate, I +am sure--you know he cannot help his lumps any more than I can help my +dreadful red hands and my dresses not fitting." + +Dolly stopped her here to introduce her to Miss MacDowlas; and that +lady having welcomed her good-naturedly, and received her incoherent +apologies for her impetuous lack of decorum, the explanation proceeded. + +"How could the professor send you here?" asked Dolly. + +"He did not exactly send me, but he helped me," replied the luckless +Euphemia, becoming a trifle more coherent. "I saw you at the little +church, though you did not see me, because, of course, we sit in the +most disagreeable part, just where we can't see or be seen at all. And +though I only saw you at a distance, and through your veil, and half +behind a pillar, I knew you, and knew Miss MacDowlas. I think I knew +Miss MacDowlas most because she _wasn't_ behind the pillar. And it +nearly drove me crazy to think you were so near, and I gave one of the +servants some money to find out where you were staying, and she brought +me word that you were staying here, and meant to stay. And then I +asked the lady principal to let me come and see you, and of course +she refused; and I never should have been able to come at all, only it +chanced that was my music-lesson day, and I went in to the professor +with red eyes,--I had cried so,--and when he asked me what I had been +crying for, I remembered that he used to be fond of you, and I told +him. And he was sorry for me, and promised to ask leave for me. He is a +cousin of the lady principal, and a great favorite with her. And the end +of it was that they let me come. And I have almost flown. I had to wait +until to-day, you know, because it was Saturday." + +It was quite touching to see how, when she stopped speaking, she clung +to Dolly's hands, and looked at her with wonder and grief in her face. + +"What is it that has changed you so?" she said. "You are not like +yourself at all. Oh, my dear, how ill you are!" + +A wistful shadow showed itself in the girl's eyes. + +"_Am_ I so much changed?" she asked. + +"You do not look like our Dolly at all," protested Phemie. "You are +thin,--oh, so thin! What _is_ the matter?" + +"Thin!" said Dolly. "Am I? Then I must be growing ugly enough. Perhaps +it is to punish me for being so vain about my figure. Don't you remember +what a dread I always had of growing thin? Just to think that _I_ should +grow thin, after all! Do my bones stick out like the Honorable Cecilia +Howland's, Phemie?" And she ended with a little laugh. + +Phemie kissed her, in affectionate protest against such an idea. + +"Oh, dear, no!" she said. "They could n't, you know. They are not +the kind of bones to do it. Just think of her dreadful elbows and her +fearful shoulder-blades! You couldn't look like her. I don't mean that +sort of thinness at all. But you seem so light and so little. And look +here," and she held up the painfully small hand, the poor little hand +without the ring. "There are no dimples here now, Dolly," she said, +sorrowfully. + +"No," answered Dolly, simply; and the next minute, as she drew her hand +away, there fluttered from her lips a sigh. + +She managed to change the turn of conversation after this. Miss +MacDowlas had good-naturedly left them alone, and so she began to ask +Phemie questions,--questions about school and lessons and companions, +about the lady principal and the under-teachers and about the professor +with the lumpy face; and, despite appearances being against her, there +was still the old ring in her girl's jests. + +"Has madame got a new bonnet yet," she asked, "or does she still wear +the old one with those aggressive-looking spikes of wheat in it? The +lean ears ought to have eaten up the fat ones by this time." + +"But they have n't," returned Phemie. "They are there yet, Dolly. Just +the same spikes in the same bonnet, only she has had new saffron-colored +ribbon put on it, just the shade of her skin." + +Dolly shuddered,--Lady Augusta's own semi-tragic shudder, if Phemie had +only recognized it. + +"Phemie," she said, with a touch of pardonable anxiety, "ill as I look, +I am not that color, am I? To lose one's figure and grow thin is bad +enough, but to become like Madame Pillet--dear me!" shaking her head. "I +scarcely think I could reconcile myself to existence." + +Phemie laughed. "You are not changed in one respect, Dolly," she said. +"When I hear you talk it makes me feel quite--quite safe." + +"Safe!" Dolly echoed. "You mean to say that so long as I preserve my +constitutional vanity, your anxiety won't overpower you. But--but," +looking at her curiously, "did you think at first that I was not safe, +as you call it?" + +"You looked so ill," faltered Phemie. "And--I was so startled." + +"Were you?" asked Dolly. "Did I shock you?" + +"A little--only just a little, dear," deprecatingly. + +Then strangely enough fell upon them a silence. Dolly turned toward the +window, and her eyes seemed to fix themselves upon some far-away point, +as if she was pondering over a new train of thought. And when at last +she spoke, her voice was touched with the tremulous unsteadiness of +tears. + +"Do you think," she said, slowly,--"do you think that _any one_ who had +loved me would be shocked to see me now? Am I so much altered as +that? One scarcely sees these things one's self,--they come to pass so +gradually." + +All poor Phemie's smiles died away. + +"Don't let us talk about it," she pleaded. "I cannot bear to hear you +speak so. Don't, dear--if you please, don't!" + +Her pain was so evident that it roused Dolly at once. + +"I won't, if it troubles you," she said, almost in her natural manner. +"It does not matter,--why should it? There is no one here to be shocked. +I was only wondering." + +But the shadow did not quite leave her face, and even when, an hour +later, Euphemia bade her good-by and left her, promising to return again +as soon as possible, it was there still. + +She was very, very quiet for a few minutes after she found herself +alone. She clasped her hands behind her head, and lay back in the light +chair, looking out of the window. She was thinking so deeply that she +did not even stir for a while; but in the end she got up, as though +moved by some impulse, and crossed the room. + +Against the wall hung a long, narrow mirror, and she went to this mirror +and stood before it, looking at herself from head to foot,--at her +piteously sharpened face, with its large, wondering eyes, eyes that +wondered at themselves,--at the small, light figure so painfully +etherealized, and about which the white wrapper hung so loosely. She +even held up, at last, the slender hand and arm; but when she saw these +uplifted, appealing, as it were, for this sad, new face which did not +seem her own, she broke into a little cry of pain and grief. + +"If you could see me now," she said, "if you should come here by chance +and see me now, my dear, I think you would not wait to ask whether I had +been true or false. I never laid this white cheek on your shoulder, did +I? Oh, what a changed face it is! I know I was never very pretty, though +you thought so and were proud of me in your tender way, but I was not +like this in those dear old days. Grif, Grif, would you know me,--would +you _know_ me?" And, turning to her chair again, she dropped upon her +knees before it, and knelt there sobbing. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + +THE postman paid frequent visits to Bloomsbury Place during these summer +weeks. At first Dolly wrote often herself, but later it seemed to +fall to Miss MacDowlas to answer Aime's weekly letters and Mollie's +fortnightly ones. And that lady was a faithful correspondent, and did +her duty as readily as was possible, giving all the news, and recording +all Dolly's messages, and issuing regular bulletins on the subject of +her health. "Your sister," she sometimes wrote, "is not so well, and I +have persuaded her to allow me to be her amanuensis." Or, "Your sister +is tired after a rather long drive, and I have persuaded her to +rest while I write at her dictation." Or sometimes, "Dolly is rather +stronger, and is in excellent spirits, but I do not wish her to exert +herself at present." But at length a new element crept into these +letters. The cheerful tone gave way to a more dubious one; Dolly's +whimsical messages were fewer and farther between, and sometimes Miss +MacDowlas seemed to be on the verge of hinting that her condition was +a weaker and more precarious one than even she herself had at first +feared. + +Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both +anxious and puzzled. In a very short time after his return he had +awakened to a recognition of some mysterious shadow upon the household. +Vagabondia had lost its spirits. Mrs. Phil and her husband were +almost thoughtful; Tod disported himself unregarded and unadmired, +comparatively speaking; Mollie seemed half frightened by the aspect +affairs were wearing; and Aimee's wise, round face had an older look. +And then these letters! Dolly "trying Switzerland" for her health, Dolly +mysteriously ill and far away from home,--too weak sometimes to write. +Dolly, who had never seemed to have a weakness; who had entered the +lists against even Lady Augusta, and had come off victorious; who +had been mock-worldly, and coquettish, and daring; who had made open +onslaught upon eligible Philistines; who had angled prettily and with +sinful success for ineligible Bohemians! What did it mean? And where was +Donne? Certainly he was never to be seen at Bloomsbury Place or in its +vicinity in these days. + +But, deeply interested as he was, Gowan was not the man to ask +questions; so he could only wait until chance brought the truth to +light. + +He came to the house upon one occasion and found Aime crying quietly +over one of Miss MacDowlas's letters in the parlor, and in his sympathy +he felt compelled to speak openly to her. + +Then Aime, heavy of heart and full of despairing grief, handed him the +letter to read. + +"I have known it would be so--from the first," she sobbed. "We are going +to lose her. Perhaps she will not live to come home again." + +"You mean Dolly?" he said. + +"Yes," hysterically. "Miss MacDowlas says--" But she could get no +further. + +This was what Miss MacDowlas said:-- + +"I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is +very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her +increasing weakness lightly. Indeed, I am sure that she herself does +not comprehend her danger. I am inclined to believe that it has not +yet occurred to her that she is in danger at all. She protests that she +cannot be ill so long as she does not suffer; but I, who have watched +her day by day, can see only too plainly where the danger lies. And so I +think it best to warn you to be prepared to come to us at once if at any +time I should send for you hurriedly." + +"Prepared to go to them!" commented Aime. "What does that mean? What +can it mean but that our own Dolly is dying, and may slip out of the +world away from us at any moment? Oh, Grif! Grif! what have you done?" + +Gowan closed the letter. + +"Miss Aime," he said, "where _is_ Donne?" + +Aime fairly wrung her hands. + +"I don't know," she quite wailed. "If I only did--if I only knew where I +could find him!" + +"You don't know!" exclaimed Gowan. "And Dolly dying in Switzerland!" + +"That is it," she returned. "That is what it all means. If any of us +knew--or if Dolly knew, she would not be dying in Switzerland. It is +because she does not know, that she is dying. She has never seen him +since the night you brought Mollie home. And--and she cannot live +without him." + +The whole story was told in very few words after this; and Gowan, +listening, began to understand what the cloud upon the house had meant. +He suffered some sharp enough pangs through the discovery, too. The last +frail cords that had bound him to hope snapped as Aime poured out her +sorrows. He had never been very sanguine of success, but even after +hoping against hope, his tender fancy for Dolly Crewe had died a very +lingering death; indeed, it was not quite dead yet, but he was beginning +to comprehend this old love story more fully, and he had found himself +forced to do his rival greater justice. He could not see his virtues as +the rest saw them, of course, but he was generous enough to pity him, +and see that his lot had been a terribly hard one. + +"There is only one thing to be done," he said, when Aime had finished +speaking. "We must find him." + +"Find him! We cannot find him." + +"That remains to be proved," he answered. "Have you been to his +lodgings?" + +"Yes," mournfully. "And even to the office! He left his lodgings that +very night, paid his bills, and drove away in a cab with his trunk. +Poor Grif! It was n't a very big trunk. He went to the office the next +morning, and told Mr. Flynn he was going to leave London, and one of +the clerks told Phil there was a 'row' between them. Mr. Flynn was angry +because he had not given due notice of his intention. That is all we +know." + +"And you have not the slightest clew beyond this?" + +"Not the slightest. He spent all his spare time with Dolly, you know; +so there is not even any place of resort, or club, or anything, where we +might go to make inquiries about him." + +Gowan's countenance fell. He felt the girl's distress keenly, apart from +his own pain. + +"The whole affair seems very much against us," he said; "but he may--I +say he _may_ be in London still. I am inclined to believe he is myself. +When the first passion of excitement was over, he would find himself +weaker than he fancied he was. It would not be so easy to cut himself +off from the old life altogether. He would long so inexpressibly to +see Dolly again that he could not tear himself away. I think we may +be assured that even if he is not in London, at least he has not left +England." + +"That was what I have been afraid of," said Aime, "that he might have +left England altogether." + +"I cannot think he has," Gowan returned. + +They were both silent for a moment. Aime sat twisting Miss MacDowlas's +letter in her fingers, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. + +"It is all the harder to bear," she said next, "because Dolly has always +seemed so much of a _reality_ to us. If she had been a pale, ethereal +sort of girl, it might not seem such a shock; but she never was. She +even used to say she could not bear those frail, ethereal people in +books, who were always dying and saying touching things just at the +proper time, and who knew exactly when to call up their agonized friends +to their bedside to see how pathetically and decorously they made their +exit. Oh, my poor darling! To think that she should be fading away and +dying just in the same way! I cannot make it seem real. I cannot think +of her without her color, and her jokes, and her bits of acting, and her +little vanities. She will not be our Dolly at all if they have left her. +There is a dress of hers up-stairs now,--a dress she couldn't bear. +And I remember so well how she lost her temper when she was making it, +because it would n't fit. And when I went into the parlor she was crying +over it, and Grif was trying so hard to console her that at last +she laughed. I can see her now, with the tears in her eyes, looking +half-vexed and half-comforted. And Tod, too,--how fond she was of Tod, +and how proud of him! Ah, Tod," in a fresh burst, "when you grow up, +the daisies may have been growing for many a year over poor little Aunt +Dolly, and you will have forgotten her quite." + +"You must not look at the matter in that desponding way," said Gowan, +quite unsteadily. "We must hope for the best, and do what we can. You +may rely upon me to exert myself to the utmost. If we succeed in +finding Donne I am sure that he will do the rest. Perhaps, next summer +Vagabondia will be as bright as ever,--nay, even brighter than it has +been before." + +All his sympathies were enlisted, and, hopeless as the task seemed, he +had determined to make strenuous efforts to trace this lost lover. Men +had concealed themselves from their friends, in the world of London, +often before, and this, he felt sure, Griffith Donne was doing; and +since this poor little impassioned, much-tried Dolly was dying in spite +of herself for Griffith Donne's sake, and seemed only to be saved by his +presence, he must even set himself the task of bringing him to light and +clearing up this miserable misunderstanding. Having been Dolly Crewe's +lover, he was still generous enough to wish to prove himself her friend; +yes, and even her luckier lover's friend, though he winced a trifle at +the thought. Accordingly, he left the house that night with his mind +full of half-formed plans, both feasible and otherwise. + +During the remainder of that week he did not call at Bloomsbury Place +again, but at the beginning of the next he made his appearance, bringing +with him a piece of news which excited Aimee terribly. + +"I know I shall startle you," he said, the moment they were alone +together, "but you can scarcely be more startled than I was myself. I +have been on the lookout constantly, but I did not expect to be rewarded +by success so soon. Indeed, as it is, it has been entirely a matter of +chance. It is as I felt sure it would be. Donne is in London still. +I know that much, though that is all I have learned as yet. Late last +night I caught a glimpse--only a glimpse--of him hurrying through a +by-street. I almost fancied he had seen me and was determined to get out +of the way." + +"The pretty English girl," said the guests at the inn, "comes down no +longer to the _table d'hte!_" "The pretty English girl," remarked the +wiseacres, "does not even drive out on these days, and the doctor calls +every morning to see her." + +"And sometimes," added one of the wisest, "again in the evening." + +"Consumption," observed another. + +"Plainly consumption," nodding significantly. "These English frauleins +are so often consumptive," commented a third. "It is astonishing to +remark how many come to 'try Switzerland,' as they say." + +"And die?" + +"And die,--as this one will." + +"Poor little thing!" with a sigh and a pitying shrug of the shoulders. + +And in the meantime up-stairs the basket chair had been taken away from +the window, and a large-cushioned, chintz-covered couch had been pushed +into its place, and Dolly lay upon it. But luxurious as her couch was, +and balmy as the air was, coming through the widely opened window, she +did not find much rest. The fact was, she was past rest by this time, +she was too weak to rest. The hot days tried her, and her sleepless +nights undermined even her last feeble relic of strength. Sometimes +during the day she felt that she could not lie propped up on the pillows +a moment longer; but when she tried to stand or sit up she was glad +to drop back again into the old place. She lost her breath fearfully +soon,--the least exertion left her panting. + +"If I had a cough," she said once to Miss MacDowlas, "I could understand +that I was ill--or if I suffered any actual pain, but I don't, and even +the doctor admits that my lungs are safe enough. What is it that he says +about me? Let me see. Ah, this is it: that I am 'below par--fearfully +below par,' as if I was gold, or notes, or bonds, or something. My ideas +on the subject of the money market are indefinite, you see. Ah, well; I +wonder when I shall be 'above par'!" + +She never spoke of her ailments in any other strain. Even as she lay +on her couch, too prostrate to either read or work, she made audacious +satirical speeches, and told Miss MacDowlas stories of Vagabondia, just +as she used to tell them to Grif himself, only that in these days she +could not get up to flourish illustratively; and often after lying for +an hour or so in a dead, heavy, exhausting day-sleep, she opened her +eyes at last, to jest about her faithful discharge of her duties as +companion. Only she herself knew of the fierce battles she so often +fought in secret, when her sore, aching heart cried out so loud for Grif +and would not--_would_ not be comforted. + +She saw Phemie frequently. The much-abused professor had proved himself +a faithful friend to them. He had never been quite able to forget the +little English governess, who had so won upon him in the past, even +though this same young lady, in her anxiety to set Lady Augusta at +defiance, had treated him somewhat cavalierly. Indeed, hearing that she +was ill, he was so touched as to be quite overwhelmed with grief. +He gained Euphemia frequent leaves of absence, and sent messages of +condolence and bouquets,--huge bunches of flowers which made Dolly laugh +even while they pleased her. There was always a bouquet, stiff in form +and gigantic in proportions, when Phemie came. + +At first Phemie caught the contagion of Dolly's own spirit and +hopefulness, and was sustained by it in spite of appearances; but its +influence died out at the end of a few weeks, and even she was not to be +deceived. An awful fear began to force itself upon her,--a fear doubly +awful to poor, susceptible Phemie. Dolly was getting no better; she was +even getting worse every day; she could not sit up; she was thinner and +larger-eyed than ever. Was something going to happen? And at the mere +thought of that possible something she would lose her breath and sit +looking at Dolly, silent, wondering, and awe-stricken. She began to +ponder over this something, as she tried to learn her lessons; she +thought of it as she went to bed and she dreamed of it in the night. +Sometimes when she came in unexpectedly and found Dolly in one of those +prostrate sleeps, she was so frightened that she could have cried out +aloud. + +She came in so one evening at twilight,--the professor had brought her +himself and had promised to escort her home,--and she found Dolly in one +of these sleeps. So, treading lightly, she put the bouquet in water, and +then drew a low chair to the girl's side and sat down to watch and wait +until she should awaken. Miss MacDowlas was in her own room writing +to Aime; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its quietness, +perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and fear. + +Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow +of her former self. The once soft, round outlines of her face had +grown clear and sharp-cut, the delicate chin had lost its dimple, the +transparent skin upon the temples showed a tracery of blue veins, the +closed eyelids had a strange whiteness and lay upon her eyes heavily. +She did not move,--she seemed scarcely to breathe. Phemie caught her own +breath and held it, lest it should break from her in a sob of grief and +terror. + +This something awful _was_ going to happen! She could not recover +herself even when Dolly wakened and began to talk to her. She could not +think of anything but her own anguish and pity for her friend. She could +not talk and was so silent, indeed, that Dolly became silent too; and +so, as the dusk fell upon them, they sat together in a novel quiet, +listening to a band of strolling musicians, who were playing somewhere +in the distance, and the sound of whose instruments floated to them, +softened and made plaintive by the evening air. + +At last Dolly broke the silence. + +"You are very quiet, Phemie," she said. "Are you going to sleep?" + +"No," faltered Phemie, drawing closer to her. "I am thinking." + +"Thinking. What about?" + +"About you. Dolly, do you--are you very ill--worse than you were?" + +"Very ill!" repeated Dolly, slowly, as if in wonder. "Worse than I was! +Why do you ask?" + +Then Phemie lost self-control altogether. She left her seat and fell +down by the couch, bursting into tears. + +"You are so altered," she said; "and you alter so much every week. I +cried over your poor, thin little hands when first I came to see you, +but now your wrist looks as if it would snap in two. Oh, Dolly, darling, +if--if you should die!" + +Was it quite a new thought, or was it because it had never come home to +her in such a form before, this thought of Death? She started as if she +had been stung. + +"If I should die!" she echoed. "_Die!_" + +"Phemie, my dear," said Miss MacDowlas, opening the door, "the professor +is waiting down-stairs." + +And so, having let her sorrow get the better of her, Phemie had no time +to stay to see if her indiscretion had done harm. If she did not go +now, she might not be allowed fresh grace; and so she was fain to tear +herself away. + +"I ought n't to have said it!" she bewailed, as she kissed Dolly again +and again. "Please forget it; oh, do, please, forget it! I did not mean +it, indeed! And now I shall be so frightened and unhappy!" + +"Phemie," said Dolly, quietly, "you have not frightened _me_; so you +haven't the least need to trouble yourself, my dear." + +But she was not exactly sorry to be left alone, and when she was alone +her thoughts wandered back to that first evening Phemie had called,--the +evening she had gone to the glass to look at her changed face. She had +sat in the basket-chair then,--she lay back upon her cushions now, and +a crowd of new thoughts came trooping through her mind. The soft air was +scented and balmy; the twilight sky was a dome of purple, jewel-hung; +people's voices came murmuring from the gardens below; the far-off music +floated to her through the window. + +"If I should _die!_" she said, in a wondering whisper,--"I, Dolly Crewe! +How strange it sounds! Have I never thought that I could die before, or +is it strange because now it is so real and near? When I used to talk +about death to Grif, it always seemed so far away from both of us; it +seemed to me as if I was not good enough or unreal enough to be near +to Death,--great, solemn Death itself. Why, I could look at myself, and +wonder at the thought of how much I shall see and know if I should die. +Grif, how much I should have to tell you, dear,--only that people are +always afraid of spirits, and perhaps you would be afraid, too,--even of +me! What would they say at home? Dear, old, broken-hearted fellow, what +would _you_ say, if I should die?" + +She could not help thinking about those at home; about Aime and Mollie +and Phil and Toinette, sitting together in the dear old littered room at +Bloomsbury Place,--the dear old untidy room, where she had sat with Grif +so often! How would they all bear it when the letter came to tell them +she was gone, and would never be with them and share their pleasures and +troubles again! And then, strangely enough, she began to picture herself +as she would look; perhaps, laid out in this very room, a dimly outlined +figure, under a white sheet,--not her old self, but a solemn, wondrous +marble form, before whose motionless, mysterious presence they would +feel awed. + +"And they would turn down the white covering and look at me," she found +herself saying. "And they would wonder at me, and feel that I was far +away. Oh, how they would wonder at me! And, at the very last, before +they hid my face forever under the coffin-lid, they would all kiss me +in that tender, solemn way,--all but Grif, who loved me best; and Grif +would not be there!" + +And the piteous rain of heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks, and +fell upon her pillow, was not for herself,--not for her own pain and +weariness and anguish,--not' for the white, worn face, that would be +shut beneath the coffin-lid, but for Grif,--for Grif,--for Grif, who, +coming back some day to learn the truth, might hear that she had died! + + + +CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + +IT had come at last,--the letter from Geneva, for which they all had +waited with such anxious hearts and so much of dread. The postman, +bringing it by the morning's delivery, and handing it through the opened +door to Aime, had wondered a little at her excited manner,--she was +always excited when these letters came; and the moment she had entered +the parlor, holding the hurriedly read note,--it was scarcely more than +a note,--there was not one of them who did not understand all before she +spoke. + +Mrs. Phil burst into tears; Phil himself laid down his brush and changed +color; Mollie silently clung to Tod as a refuge, and looked up with +trembling lips. + +Mrs. Phil was the first to speak. + +"You may as well tell us the worst," she said; "but it is easy enough to +guess what it is, without being told." + +"It is almost the _very_ worst," answered Aime. + +"Miss MacDowlas wants me to go to them at once. _She_ is so ill that if +a change does not take place, she will not live many weeks, and she has +asked for me." + +They all knew only too well that "she" meant Dolly. + +"Then," said Phil, "you must go at once." + +"I can go to-day," she answered. "I knew it would come to this, and I am +ready to leave London at any moment." + +There was no delay. Her small box was even then ready packed and corded +for the journey. She had taken Miss MacDowlas's warning in time. It +would not have been like this heavy-hearted wise one to disregard it. +She would have been ready to go to Dolly at ten minutes' notice, if she +had been in India. She was not afraid, either, of making the journey +alone. It was not a very terrible journey, she said. Secretly, she had a +fancy that perhaps Dolly would like to see her by herself first, to have +a few quiet days alone with her, in which she could become used to the +idea of the farewell the rest would come to say. And in her mind the +poor little oracle had another fancy, too, and this fancy she confided +to Mollie before bidding her good-by. + +"Mollie," she said, "I am going to leave a charge in your hands." + +"Is it anything about Dolly?" asked Mollie, making fruitless efforts to +check her affectionate tears. + +"I wish you would leave me something to do for Dolly, Aime." + +"It is something connected with Dolly;" returned Aime. "I want you to +keep constantly on the watch for Griffith." + +"For Griffith!" Mollie exclaimed. "How can I, when I don't know whether +he is in England or not?" + +"He is in England," Aime replied. "He is in London, for Mr. Gowan has +seen him." + +"In London--and Dolly in Switzerland, perhaps dying!" + +"He does not know that, or he would have been with her before now," said +Aime. "Once let him know that she is ill, and he will be with her. I +know him well enough to be sure of that. And it is my impression that if +he went to her at the eleventh hour, when she might seem to us to be at +the very last, he would bring her back to life. It is Grif she is dying +for, and only Grif can save her." + +"And what do you want me to do?" anxiously. + +"To watch for him constantly, as I said. Don't _you_ think, Mollie, +that he might come back, if it were only into the street to look at the +house, in a restless sort of remembrance of the time when they used to +be so happy?" + +"It would not be unlike him," answered Mollie, slowly. "He was very fond +of Dolly. Oh, he was very fond of her!" + +"Fond of her! He loved her better than his life, and does still, +wherever he may be. Something tells me he will come, and that is why +I want you to watch. Watch at the window as constantly as you can, but +more particularly at dusk; and if you should see him, Mollie, don't wait +a second. Run out to him, and _make_ him listen to you. Ah, poor fellow, +he will listen eagerly and penitently enough, if you only say to him +that Dolly is dying." + +"Very well," said Mollie, "I will remember." And thus the wise one took +her departure. + +It was twilight in Bloomsbury Place, and Mollie crouched before the +parlor window, resting her chin upon her hands, and looking out, pretty +much as Aime had looked out on that winter evening months ago, when Mr. +Gerald Chandos had first presented himself to her mind as an individual +to be dreaded. + +Three days had passed since the wise one left London,--three miserable, +dragging days they had seemed to Mollie, despite their summer warmth and +sunshine. Real anxiety and sorrow were new experiences in Vagabondia; +little trials they had felt, and often enough small unpleasantnesses, +privations, and disappointments; but death and grief were new. And they +were just beginning to realize broadly the blow which had fallen upon +them; hard as it was to believe at first, they were beginning slowly to +comprehend the sad meaning of the lesson they were learning now for the +first time. What each had felt a fear of in secret was coming to pass at +last, and there was no help against it. + +Phil went about his work looking as none of them had ever seen him look +before. Mrs. Phil's tears fell thick and fast. Not understanding +the mystery, she could blame nobody but Grif, and Grif she could not +forgive. To Mollie the house seemed like a grave. She could think of +nothing but Dolly,--Dolly, white and worn and altered, lying upon her +couch, her eyes closed, her breath fluttering faintly. She wondered if +she was afraid to die. She herself had a secret girlish terror of death +and its strange solemness, and she so pitied Dolly that sometimes she +could not contain her grief, and was obliged to hide herself until her +tears spent themselves. + +She had been crying during all this twilight hour she had knelt at the +window. She was so lonely that it seemed impossible to do anything else. +It would have been bad enough to bear the suspense even if Aime had +been with her, but without Aime it was dreadful. The tears slipped down +her cheeks and rolled away, and she did not even attempt to dry them, +her affectionate grief had mastered her completely. But she was roused +at length. Some one crossed the street from the pavement opposite the +house; and when this some one entered the gate and ascended the steps, +she rose slowly, half-reluctant, half-comforted, and with a faint +thrill at her heart. It was Ralph Gowan, and she was not wise enough or +self-controlled enough yet to see Ralph Gowan without feeling her pulses +quicken. + +When she opened the door he did not greet her as usual, but spoke to her +at once in a low, hurried tone. + +"Mollie, where is Aime?" he asked. + +Her tears began to flow again; she could not help giving way. + +"You had better come in," she said, half turning away from him and +speaking brokenly. "Aime is not here. She left London three days ago. +Dolly--" + +"Dolly is worse!" he said, because she could not finish. + +She nodded, with a heart too full for words. + +He stepped inside, and, closing the door, laid his hand upon her +shoulder. + +"Then, Mollie," he said, "I must come to you." + +He did not wait a moment, but led her gently enough into the parlor, +and, blinded as she was by her tears, she saw that instant that he had +not come without a reason. + +"Don't cry," he said. "I want you to be brave and calm now,--for Dolly's +sake. I want your help,--for Dolly's sake, remember." + +She recollected Aime's words--"Mr. Gowan has seen him"--and a sudden +light flashed upon her. The tears seemed to dry of their own accord all +at once, as she looked up. + +"Yes," she answered. + +He knew, without hearing another word, that he might trust her. + +"Can you guess whom I have just this moment seen?" he said. + +"Yes," sprang from her lips, without a second's hesitation. "You have +seen Grif." + +"I have seen Grif," he answered. "He is at the corner of the street now. +If I had attempted to speak to him he would have managed to avoid me; +and because I knew that, I came here, hoping to find Aime; but since +Aime is not here--" + +"I can go," she interrupted him, all a-tremble with eagerness. "He will +listen to me; he was fond of me, too, and I was fond of him. Oh! let me +go now!" + +That bright little scarlet shawl of Dolly's lay upon the sofa, and +she snatched it up with shaking hands and threw it over her head and +shoulders. + +"If I can speak to him once, he will listen," she said; "and if he +listens, Dolly will be saved. She won't die if Grif comes back. She +can't die if Grif comes back. Oh, Dolly, my darling, you saved me, and I +am going to try to save you." + +She was out in the street in two minutes, standing on the pavement, +looking up and down, and then she ran across to the other side. She kept +close to the houses, so that she might be in their shadow, and a little +sob broke from her as she hurried along,--a sob of joy and fear and +excitement. At the end of the row of houses somebody was standing under +the street lamp,--a man. Was it Grif,--or could Grif have gone even in +this short time? Fate could never have been so cruel to him, to her, to +them all, as to let him come so near and then go away without hearing +that Dolly was lying at death's portals, and no one could save her but +himself and the tender power of the sweet, old, much-tried love. Oh, no, +no! It was Grif indeed; for as she neared the place where he stood, she +saw his face in the lamp-light,--a grief-worn, pallid face, changed and +haggard and desperate,--a sight that made her cry out aloud. + +He had not seen her or even heard her. He stood there looking toward +the house she had left, and seeing, as it seemed, nothing else. Only the +darkness had hidden her from him. His eyes were fixed upon the dim light +that burned in Dolly's window. She had not meant to speak until she +stood close to him; but when she was within a few paces of him her +excitement mastered her. + +"Grif," she cried out; "Grif, is it you?" + +And when he turned, with a great start, to look at her, she was upon +him,--her hands outstretched, the light upon her face, the tears +streaming down her cheeks,--sobbing aloud. + +"Mollie," he answered, "is it _you?_" And she saw that he almost +staggered. + +She could not speak at first. She clung to his arm so tightly that he +could scarcely have broken away from her if he had tried. But he did not +try; it seemed as though her touch made him weak,--weaker than he had +ever been before in his life. Beauty as she was, they had always thought +her in some way like Dolly, and, just now, with Dolly's gay little +scarlet shawl slipping away from her face, with the great grief in +her imploring eyes, with that innocent appealing trick of the clinging +hands, she might almost have been Dolly's self. + +Try as he might, he could not regain his self-control. He was sheerly +powerless before her. + +"Mollie," he said, "what has brought you here? Why have you come?" + +"I have come," she answered, "for Dolly's sake!" + +The vague fear he had felt at first caught hold upon him with all the +fulness of its strength. + +"For Dolly's sake!" he echoed. "Nay, Dolly has done with me, and I with +her." And though he tried to speak bitterly, he failed. + +She was too fond of Dolly, and too full of grief to spare him after +that. Unstrung as she was, her reproach burst forth from her without a +softened touch. "Dolly has done with earth. Dolly's life is over," she +sobbed. "Do you know that she is dying? Yes, dying,--our own bright +Dolly,--and you--_you_ have killed her!" + +She had not thought how cruel it would sound, and the next instant she +was full of terror at the effect of her own words. He broke loose from +her,--_fell_ loose from her, one might better describe it, for it was +his own weight rather than any effort which dragged him from her grasp. +He staggered and caught hold of the iron railings to save himself, and +there hung, staring at her with a face like a dead man. + +"My God!" he said,--not another word. + +"You must not give way like that," she cried out, in a new fright. "Oh, +how could I speak so! Aime would have told you better. I did not mean +to be so hard. You can save her if you will. She will not die, Grif, if +you go to her. She only wants _you_. Grif,--Grif,--you look as if you +could not understand what I am saying." And she wrung her hands. + +And, indeed, it scarcely seemed as if he did understand, though at last +he spoke. + +"Where is she?" he said. "Not here? You say I must 'go' to her." + +"No, she is not here. She is at Lake Geneva. Miss MacDowlas took her +there because she grew so weak, and she has grown weaker ever since, and +three days ago they sent for Aime to come to her, because--because they +think she is going to die." + +"And you say that _I_ have done this?" + +"I ought n't to have put it that way, it sounds so cruel, but--but she +has never been like herself since the night you went away, and we have +all known that it was her unhappiness that made her ill. She could not +get over it, and though she tried to hide it, she was worn out. She +loved you so." + +He interrupted her. + +"If she is dying for me," he said, hoarsely, "she must have loved me, +and if she has loved me through all this,--God help us both!" + +"How could you go away and leave her all alone after all those years?" +demanded Mollie. "We cannot understand it. No one knows but Aime, and +Dolly has told her that you were not to blame. Why did you go?" + +"_You_ do not know?" he said. "You should know, Mollie, of all +others. _You_ were with her when she played that miserable coquette's +trick,--that pitiful trick, so unlike herself,--you were with her that +night when she let Gowan keep her away from me, when I waited for her +coming hour after hour. I saw you with them when he was bidding her +goodnight." + +They had hidden their secret well all these months, but it was to be +hidden no longer now. It flashed upon her like an electric shock. She +remembered a hundred things,--a hundred little mysteries she had met and +been puzzled by, in Aimee's manner; she remembered all she had heard, +and all she had wondered at, and her heart seemed turned to stone. The +flush of weeping died out of her face, her hands fell and hung down +at her side, her tears were gone; nothing seemed left to her but blank +horror. + +"Was it because she did not come that night, that you left her to die?" +she asked, in a labored voice. "Was it because you saw her with Ralph +Gowan--was it because you found out that she had been with him, that you +went away and let her break her heart? Tell me!" + +He answered her, "Yes." + +"Then," she said, turning to face him, still cold, and almost rigid, "it +is _I_ who have killed her, and not you." + +"You!" he exclaimed. + +She did not wait to choose her words, or try to soften the story of her +own humiliation. + +"If she dies," she said, "she has died for me." + +And without further preface she told him all. How she had let Gerald +Chandos flatter and gain power over her, until the climax of her folly +had been the wild, wilful escapade of that miserable long-past day. +How Ralph Gowan had discovered her romantic secret, and revealed it +to Dolly. How they had followed and rescued her; even how Dolly had +awakened her from her dangerous dream with that light touch, and had +drawn her away from the brink of an abyss, with her loving, girlish +hands; and she ended with an outburst of anguish. + +"Why did n't she tell you?" she said. "For my sake she did not want the +rest to know; but why did not she tell you? I cannot understand." + +"She tried to tell me," he said, in an agony of self-reproach, as he +began to see what he had done,--"she tried to tell me, and I would not +hear her." + +All his bygone sufferings--and, Heaven knows, he had suffered bitterly +and heavily enough--sank into insignificance before the misery of this +hour. To know how true and pure of heart she had been; to know how +faithful, unselfish, sweet; to remember how she had met him with a +tender little cry of joy, with outstretched, innocent hands, that he had +thrust aside; to remember the old golden days in which she had so clung +to him, and brightened his life; to think how he had left her lying +upon the sofa that night, her white face drooping piteously against +the cushions; to have all come back to him and know that he only was to +blame; to know it all too late. Nay, a whole life of future bliss could +never quite efface the memory of such a passion of remorse and pain. + +"Oh, my God!" he prayed, "have mercy upon me!" And then he turned upon +Mollie. "Tell me where to go to; tell me, and let me go. I must go to +her now without a moment's waiting. My poor, faithful little girl,--my +pretty Dolly! Dying,--dying! No, I don't believe it,--I won't. She +cannot die yet. Fate has been cruel enough to us, but it cannot be so +cruel as that. Love will _make_ her live." + +He dashed down Mollie's directions in desperate, feverish haste upon a +leaf of his memorandum-book, and then he bade her good-by. + +"God bless you, dear!" he said. "Perhaps you have saved us both. I am +going to her now. Pray for me." + +"I ought rather to pray for myself," she said; "but for me you would +never have been separated. I have done it all." + +And a few minutes after he had gone, Ralph Gowan, who had awaited her +return before the window, turned to see her enter the room like a spirit +and fling herself down before him, looking white and shaken and pale. + +"I have found it all out now," she cried. "I have found it all out. I +have done all this, Mr. Gowan; it is through me her heart is broken, and +if she dies, I shall have caused her death, as surely as if I had killed +her with my own hand. Oh, save me from thinking she will die,--help me +to think she will live,--help me!" + +There was no one else to help her, and the blind terror of the thought +was so great that she must have help, or die. To have so injured Dolly, +whom she so loved,--to have, by her own deed, brought that dread shadow +of Death upon Dolly, who had saved her! Her heart seemed crushed. If +Aime had been there; but Aime was not, so she stretched out her hands +to the man she had so innocently loved. And as she so knelt before +him,--so fair, in the childlike _abandon_ of her grief, so guileless +and trusting in her sudden, sweet appeal, so helpless against the world, +even against herself,--his man's heart was touched and stirred as it had +never been before,--as even Dolly herself had not stirred it. + +"My poor child!" he said, taking her hands and drawing her nearer to +himself. "My poor, pretty Mollie, come to me." + +And why not, my reader? If one rose is not for us, the sun shines on +many another as sweet and quite as fair; and what is more, it is more +than probable that if we had seen the last rose first, we should have +loved the first rose last. It is only when, like Dolly and Grif, we have +watched our rose from its first peep of the leaf, and have grown with +its growth, that there can be no other rose but one. + +"_Le roi est mort--Vive le roi!_" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + +THERE was a hush upon the guests at the pretty little inn. Most of them +were not sojourners of a day, who came and went, as they did at the +larger and busier hotels,--they were comfortable people who enjoyed +themselves in their own quiet way and so had settled down for the time +being. Accordingly they had leisure to become interested in each other; +and there were few of them who did not feel a friendly interest in the +pretty, pale English girl, who, report said, was fading silently out +of life in her bright room up-stairs. When Aime arrived, the most +sympathetic shook their heads dubiously. + +"The sister is here," they said; "a thoughtful little English creature +with a child's face and a woman's air. They sent for her. One can easily +guess what that means." + +Any one but Aime would have been crushed at the outset by the shock +of the change which was to be seen in the poor little worn figure, now +rarely moved from its invalid's couch. But Aime bore the blow with +outward quiet at least. If she shed tears Dolly did not see them, and if +she mourned Dolly was not disturbed by her sorrow. + +"I have come to help Miss MacDowlas to take care of you, Dolly," she +said, when she gave her her greeting kiss, and Dolly smiled and kissed +her in return. + +But it was a terribly hard matter to fight through at first. Of course, +as the girl had become weaker she had lost power over herself. She was +restless and listless by turns. Sometimes she started at every sound, +and again she lay with closed eyes for hours, dozing the day away. The +mere sight of her in this latter state threw poor Phemie into an agony +of terror and distress. + +"It is so like Death," she would say to Aime. "It seems as if we could +never rouse her again." + +And then again she would rally a little, and at such times she would +insist upon being propped up and allowed to talk, and her eyes would +grow large and bright, and a spot of hectic color would burn on her +cheeks. She did not even mention her trouble during the first two +days of Aime's visit, but on the third afternoon she surprised her by +broaching the subject suddenly. She had been dozing, and on awakening +she began to talk. + +"Aime," she said, "where is Miss MacDowlas?" + +"In her room. I persuaded her to go and lie down." + +"I am very glad," quietly. "I want to do something particular. I want +Grif's letters, Aime." + +"Where are they?" Aime asked. + +"In a box in my trunk. I should like to have them now." + +Aime brought them to her without comment. The box had not been large +enough to hold them all, and there was an extra packet tied with that +dear old stereotyped blue ribbon. + +"What a many there are!" said Dolly, when she came to the couch with +them. "You will have to sit down by me and hold some of them. One can +write a great many letters in seven years." + +The wise one sat down, obediently holding the box upon her knee. There +were so many letters in it that it was quite heavy. + +"I am going to look them over and tie them in packages, according to +their dates," said Dolly. "He will like to have them when he comes +back." + +It would not have been natural for her to preserve her calmness all +through the performance of her task. Her first glance at the first +letter brought the tears, and she cried quietly as she passed from +one to the other. They were such tender, impetuous letters. The +very headings--"My Darling," "My pretty Darling," "My own sweetest +Life"--impassioned, youthful-sounding, and Grif-like, cut her to the +heart. Ah! how terrible it would be for him to see them again, as +he would see them! She was pitying him far more than she was pitying +herself. + +It was a work not soon over, but she finished it at length. The packets +were assorted and tied with new ribbon, and she lay down for a few +minutes to rest. + +"You will give them to him, Aime?" she said. "I think he will come some +day; but if he does not, you must keep them yourself. I should not like +people to read them--afterwards. Love-letters won't stand being read by +strangers. I have often laughed and told him ours would n't. I am going +to write a last one, however, this afternoon. You are to give it him, +with the 'dead' letter--but they are all dead letters, are they not?" + +"Dolly," said Aime, with a desperate effort, "you speak as if you were +sure you were--going." + +There was a silence, and then a soft, low, tremulous laugh,--the merest +echo of a laugh. Despite her long suffering Dolly was Dolly yet. She +would not let them mourn over her. + +"Going," she said, "well--I think I am. Yes," half reflectively, "I +think I must be. It cannot mean anything else,--this feeling, can it? +It was a long time before I quite believed it myself, Aime, but now I +should be obliged to believe it if I did not wish to." + +"And do you wish to, now?" + +That little silence again, and then-- + +"I should like to see Grif,--I want Grif,--that is all." + +She managed to write her last love-letter after this, and to direct +it and tie it with the letter which had returned to her,--the "dead" +letter. But the effort seemed to tire her very much, and when all was +done and her restless excitement had died out, she looked less like +herself than ever. She could talk no more, and was so weak and prostrate +that Aime was alarmed into summoning Miss MacDowlas. + +But Miss MacDowlas could only shake her head. "We cannot do anything to +rouse her," she said. "It is often so. If the end comes, it will come in +this way. She feels no pain." + +That night Aime wrote to those at home. They must come at once if they +wanted to see Dolly. She watched all night by the bedside herself; +she could not have slept if she had gone to her own room, and so she +remained with Dolly, watching her doze and waken, starting from nervous +sleeps and sinking into them again. + +"There will not be many nights through which I can watch," she said +to herself. "Even this might be the last." And then she turned to the +window, and cried silently, thinking of Grif, and wondering what she +should say to him, if they ever met again. + +How could she say to him, "Dolly is dead! Dolly died because you left +her!" + +Another weary day and night, and then the old change came again. The +feverish strength seemed to come once more. Dolly would be propped up, +and talk. Before very long Aime began to fancy that she had something +she wished to say to Miss Mac-Dowlas. She followed her movements with +eager, unsatisfied eyes, and did not seem at ease until she sat down +near her. Then when she had secured her attention the secret revealed +itself. She had something to say about Grif. + +Gradually, during the long weary weeks of her illness she had learned +to place much confidence in Miss MacDowlas. Her affectionate nature had +clung to her. In telling anecdotes of life in Vagabondia, she had talked +of Grif,--Vagabondia would not have been Vagabondia without Grif,--and +there was always a thrill of faithful love in her simplest mention of +him. Truly, Miss MacDowlas beheld her reprobate nephew in a new light, +surrounded by a halo of innocent romance and unselfish tenderness. This +poor little soul, who was breaking her heart for his sake, showed him +sinned against but never sinning, unfortunate but never to blame, showed +him honest, sweet of nature, true, and faultless. Where were his faults +in the eyes of his first and last love? The simple, whimsical stories of +their loves and lovers' quarrels, of their small economies and perfect +faith in the future,--a faith so sadly wrecked, as it seemed, by cruel +Fate,--brought tears into Miss MacDowlas's eyes. Eloquent, affectionate +Dolly won her over before she knew what she was thinking about. He could +not have been such a reprobate, after all,--this Griffith Donne, who +had so often roused her indignation. Perhaps he could not help being +literary and wearing a shabby coat and a questionable hat. And Dolly +had in the end begun to see how her long-fixed opinion had softened and +changed. So she had courage to plead for Grif this afternoon. She wanted +to be sure that if he should ever come back, there would be a hand +outstretched to help him. + +"He only wanted help," she said; "and no one has ever helped him, though +he tried so hard and worked so. Aime knows how hard he worked, don't +you, Aime?" + +"Yes," answered Aime, turning her working face away. + +"I should like you to promise," said Dolly, wistfully, to Miss +MacDowlas. "It would make me so much happier. You have been so kind to +me,--I am sure you will be kind to him,--poor Grif,--poor fellow!" + +Miss MacDowlas bent over her, touched to the heart. + +"My dear," she said, "he shall never want help again. He must have been +worthy of so much love, or he would never have won it. I owe him some +recompense, too. If I had not been so stupidly blind I might have saved +you both all this pain. I have grown very fond of you, Dolly," she +ended; and then, being quite overcome, she kissed the pretty hair +suddenly, gave the thin hand an almost motherly squeeze, and made the +best of her way out of the room. + +"Aime," said Dolly, "do you remember how often I have made fun of her, +when we were all so happy together? We made a good many mistakes, even +in Vagabondia, did n't we?" And then she closed her eyes and lay silent, +with wet lashes resting on her cheek. + +In speaking of this afternoon, long afterwards, Aime said it seemed the +longest and weariest she had ever known. It was extremely hot, and the +very air seemed laden with heavy languor. The sun beat down upon the +outer world whitely, and scarcely a leaf stirred. Miss MacDowlas did not +return, and Dolly, though she was not asleep, lay quite still and did +not open her eyes again. So Aime sat and watched at her side, wondering +how the day would end,--wondering if Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie would +arrive before it was too late,--wondering what that strange last hour +would be like, and how Dolly would bear it when it came, and how they +themselves would bear to think of it when it was over. + +She was not quite sure how long she sat watching so, but she fancied +that it must have been two or three hours, or even more. She got up at +last and drew down the green blinds as noiselessly as possible, and then +went back to her place and rested her head upon the pillow near Dolly's, +feeling drowsy and tired,--she had slept so little during the past few +nights. + +Dolly moved restlessly, stretching out her hand to Aime's and opening +her eyes all at once--ah! what large, hollow, shadowy eyes they were! + +"I am very tired," she murmured, "so tired and so weak, Aime," +dreamily. "I suppose this is what you would call dying of a broken +heart. It seems so queer that I should die of a broken heart." "Oh, +Dolly--Dolly!" Aime whispered, "our own dearest dear, we never thought +such pain could come to you." + +But even the next moment Dolly seemed to have lost herself, her eyes +closed again and she did not speak. So Aime lay holding her hand, until +the indoor silence, the shadow of the room, and the sound of the droning +bees outside lulled her into a sort of doze, and her own eyelids fell +wearily. + +A minute, was it, five or ten, or more than that? + +She could not say. She only remembered her own last words, the +warmth, the shadow, the droning of the bees, and the gradual losing +consciousness, and then she was wide awake again,--awakened by a +strange, wild cry, which, thrilling and echoing through the room, made +her start up with a beating heart and look towards the door. + +"Grif!" + +That was all,--only this single rapturous cry, and Dolly, who had before +seemed not to have the strength of a child, was sitting up, a white, +tremulous figure, with outstretched arms and fluttering breath, and Grif +was standing upon the threshold. + +Even when she had blamed him most, Aime had pitied him also; but she +had never pitied him as she did when he strode to the couch and took +the weak, worn, tremulous little figure in his arms. He could not +speak,--neither spoke. Dolly lay upon his breast crying like a little +child. But for him--his grief was terrible; and when the loving hand was +laid upon his cheek and Dolly found her first words, they only seemed to +make it worse. + +"Don't cry," she said. "Don't cry, dear. Kiss me!" He kissed her lips, +her hands, her hair. He could not bear it. She was so like, yet so +fearfully unlike, the winsome, tender creature he had loved so long. + +"Oh, my God!" he cried, in his old mad way, "you are dying, and if you +die it will be I who have murdered you!" + +She moved a little nearer, so that her pretty face rested against his +shoulder and she could lift her streaming eyes to his, her old smile +shining through her tears. + +"Dear old fellow," she said, "darling old fellow, whom I love with all +my soul! I shall live just to prove that you have done nothing of the +kind!" + +It was only Grif she wanted,--only Grif, and Grif had come. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + +OF course she recovered. What else could she do? If a man is dying for +want of bread and you give him bread enough and to spare, he will regain +strength and life, will he not? And so with Dolly. Having found Grif, +she had nothing to die for and so much to live for, that she lived. It +seemed, too, that even if she had been inclined to die, Grif would have +held her fast to earth. It was worse than useless to attempt to delude +him into leaving her side, even for an hour; he hung over the invalid's +couch, in such an anguish of half-despairing anxiety that the hearts of +the unceremoniously deposed nurses were quite touched. He watched every +change in Dolly's face, every brightening or fading tint in her cheek, +every glance of her eyes; he followed her every movement. If she was +tired of her posture, he could raise her or lay her down and settle her +cushions as no one else could; if she was strong enough to listen, he +could talk to her; if she was too weak, he could be silent. + +But naturally there was much to talk about. Not that the period of +his absence had been a very eventful one. It was as Ralph Gowan had +fancied,--he had been living quietly enough in a secluded London +street during the whole of the time; but Dolly found the history of +his self-banishment both interesting and soul-moving. The story of his +miseries brought the tears into her eyes, and his picture of what he had +suffered on that unhappy night, when he had rushed out of the house +and left her insensible upon the sofa, made her cling to his hand +convulsively and sob outright. + +"I can scarcely believe you are here,--quite safe," she would say; "you +might have killed yourself." + +And indeed he had been in no small danger of so doing. + +Among all this, however, there was one bit of brightness,--a wonderful +piece of news he told her that very day after his return. Fortune +had, with her usual caprice, condescended to smile upon him at last. +Incredible as it appeared, he had "got into something," and this +"something" was actually remunerative,--reasonably remunerative, if +not extravagantly so. Four hundred a year would pay the rent of the +figurative house in Putney or elsewhere, and buy the green sofa and +appurtenances, at least. Dolly could scarcely believe it, and, indeed, +he scarcely believed it himself. + +"It seemed as if, when I had lost all else, this came to add to the +bitterness of the loss," he said. "I am afraid I was far from being as +grateful, at first, as I ought to have been. I could only remember how +happy such luck would have made us both if it had only come a year or +so earlier. And the very day I got the place I passed the upholsterer's +where the parlor furniture was,--green sofa and all. And I went home +with the firm intention of blowing my brains out. The only thing that +saved me that day was the fact that my landlady met me at the door with +a miserable story about her troubles and her taxes, and by the time I +had listened for half an hour, and done something she wanted done, I had +cooled down a little, though I was wretched enough." + +"The 'something' was paying the taxes, was n't it?" questioned Dolly. + +"Something of that kind," admitted Griffith. + +"Ah," said Dolly, "I thought so." + +Very naturally Griffith felt some slight embarrassment on encountering +Miss MacDowlas, having a rather unpleasant recollection of various +incidents of the past. But Miss Berenice faced the matter in a different +manner and with her usual decision of character. She had made up her +mind to receive Griffith Donne as a respectable fact, and then, through +Dolly's eloquence, she had learned to regard him with even a sort of +affection,--a vague affection, of course, at the outset, but one which +would ripen with time. Thus she rather surprised him by confronting him +upon an entirely new ground. She was cordial and amiable, and on +the first opportunity she explained her change of feeling with great +openness. + +"I have heard so much of you from Dolly," she said, "that I am convinced +I have known nothing of you before. I hope we shall be better friends. I +am very fond of Dolly. I wish I had known her three or four years ago." + +And there was such a softened tenderness in her thin, unpromising face, +that from thenceforward Griffith's doubts were removed and his opinion +altered, as hers had done. The woman who had loved and pitied Dolly +when she so sorely needed pity and love, must be worthy of gratitude and +affection. + +Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie arriving, in the deepest affliction, to +receive Dolly's last farewell, were rather startled by the turn affairs +had taken. Changed as she was, the face she turned to greet them was not +the face of a dying girl. She was deplorably pale and shrunken and thin, +but the light of life was in her eyes and a new ring was in her voice. +She had vitality enough to recognize fresh charms in Tod, and spirit +enough to make a few jokes. + +"She won't die," commented Phil to his wife when they retired to their +room. + +"No," said Mrs. Phil, discreetly, "it is not likely, now Grif has come +back. But it won't do to waste the journey, Phil, so we may as well stay +awhile. We have not been anywhere out of London this summer." + +Accordingly, with their usual genius for utilizing all things, they +prolonged their visit and made it into a kind of family festival; and +since their anxiety on Dolly's behalf was at an end, they managed +to enjoy it heartily. They walked here, and rode there, and explored +unheard-of points and places; they kept the quiet people in the quiet +hotel in a constant state of pleasant ferment with their good spirits +and unceremonious friendliness. Mollie and Aime and Mrs. Phil excited +such general admiration that when they made their appearance at the +_table d'hte_ there was a visible stir and brightening, and Dolly +was so constantly inquired after, that there were serious thoughts +entertained of issuing hourly bulletins. The reaction of high spirits +after their fears was something exhilarating even to beholders. + +And while they enjoyed themselves, and explored, and instituted a high +carnival of innocent rejoicing, Dolly directed all her energies to the +task of getting well and filling Grif's soul with hope and bliss. As +soon as she had fully recovered they were to be married,--not a day, not +an hour, longer would Grif consent to wait. His only trouble was that +she would not be strong enough to superintend the purchase of the green +sofa and appurtenances. Aime had, however, proved his rock of refuge +as usual They were to return to London together and make the necessary +preparations, and then the wedding was to take place in Geneva, and the +bride would be carried home in triumph. + +"We have been so long in travelling toward the little house at Putney +that it will be the nicest bridal tour we could have," said Dolly. + +Then, of course, came some pleasant excitement in connection with the +trousseau, in which everybody was involved. The modest hotel had never +before been in such a state of mind through secret preparations, as +it was when Dolly was well enough to sit up and walk about and choose +patterns. Her instinct of interest in worldly vanities sustained that +young person marvellously. When Grif and Aime had returned to London +she found herself well enough to give lengthy audiences to Mrs. Phil, +who, with Miss MacDowlas, had taken the business of purchasing in hand, +and to discuss fabrics and fashions by the hour. She remembered Grifs +enthusiasm on the subject of her toilets, and she was wholly ruled by +a secret and laudable ambition to render herself as irresistible as +possible. She exercised to its utmost her inventive genius, and lay +awake at night to devise simple but coquettish feminine snares of attire +to delight and bewilder him in the future. + +She might well progress rapidly toward health and strength. By the time +the house was ready for her reception she was well enough to drive out +and explore with the rest, though she looked frail and unsubstantial by +contrast with Mollie's bloom and handsome Mrs. Phil's grand curves. She +was gaining flesh and color every day, but the slender throat and wrists +and transparent hands were a bitter reproach to Grif even then, and it +would be many weeks before she could again indulge in that old harmless +vanity in her dimples and smooth roundness of form. + +Mollie mourned over her long, in secret, and, indeed, was so heart-wrung +by the sight of the change she found in her, that the very day of her +arrival had not drawn to its close before she burst upon her with a +remorseful appeal for forgiveness. + +"But even if you forgive me I shall not forgive myself," she said. "I +shall never forget that dreadful night when I found out that it was all +my fault, and that you had borne everything without telling me. If--if +it had not been for--for Mr. Gowan, Dolly, I think I should have died." + +"If it had not been for whom?" asked Dolly. + +"Mr. Gowan," answered Miss Mollie, dropping her eyes, her very throat +dyed with guilty blushes. + +"Ah!" said Dolly. "And what did Mr. Gowan do, Mollie?" + +"He was very kind--and sympathizing," replied Mollie. + +"He always is sympathizing," looking at her with affectionate +shrewdness. "He is very nice, is n't he, Mollie?" + +"Yes," said Mollie. "Very nice, indeed." + +"And I dare say you were so frightened and wretched that you cried?" + +"Yes," confessed the abashed catechised. + +"I thought so." And then, conjuring up in her mind's eye a picture of +Mollie, heart-broken, appealing and in tears, beauteous, piteous, and +grief-abandoned, she added, with tender impulsiveness, "I don't wonder +that he sympathized with you, Mollie." + +It revealed itself shortly afterward that his sympathy had not confined +itself to the night Mollie called "dreadful." Since that night he had +been a frequent visitor at Bloomsbury Place,--as frequent a visitor as +he had been in the days when Dolly had been wont so to entertain him. + +A week after the return of Aime and Grif from London, there fell again +upon the modest hotel a hush; but it was not the hush of sympathetic +silence which had fallen upon it before,--it was merely a sort of +reaction after a slight excitement. The pretty English girl had, to +every one's wonder, suddenly returned to earth and had been married! +The wisest were bewildered, but such was the fact, nevertheless; nobody +could exactly comprehend, but who could deny it? It was a mystery, +indeed, until one day, some time after, a usually phlegmatic matron +was struck with an idea, and accordingly propounded to her friends a +somewhat vaguely expressed problem. + +"After the appearance of the lover one heard no more that she was +dying?" + +"Just so." + +"Perhaps the lover had something to do with the matter?", "Ah!" + +"Perhaps she was dying for him, and his coming cured her?" + +"Exactly. That must have been the case." + +And thenceforth the matter was deemed settled. However, the gay, +light-hearted party of English had taken their departure,--the friendly +young artist who sketched and smoked and enjoyed himself; his handsome +young wife, who sketched and played with her handsome child, and enjoyed +_herself_; the beautiful younger sister, who blushed and was charmingly +bashful, but enjoyed herself; the fair little saint with the +grave youthful face, who took care of them all, and yet enjoyed +_herself_,--the lover, the elder lady, the guest who came to be +groomsman, the bride,--they were all gone at last, and their absence was +the cause of the hush of which I speak. + +There had been a wedding,--a joyous, light-hearted wedding, in which +the bride had looked pretty and flower-like and ethereal,--a fragile +creature enough in her white dress and under her white veil, but a +delightfully happy creature, notwithstanding,--in which the bridegroom +had been plainly filled with chivalric tenderness and bliss,--in which +the two sisters had been charming beyond measure, and the awkward, +affectionate girl friend from the seminary had blushed herself into a +high fever. There could not have been a more prettily orthodox wedding, +said the beholders. Somehow its glow of young romance touched people, it +was so evident that the young couple were fond of each other, and happy +and hopeful. There were those who, seeing it solemnized in the small +church, shed a few tears, they knew not why, when Grif lifted Dolly's +veil and kissed her without a word. + +"It is all rose color to them," said one of these soft-hearted ones, +apologetically, to her neighbor. + +Rose color! I should think it was. + +But if it was all rose color then, what was it that first evening they +spent at home,--in their own home, in the little house which was so +bright and pretty that it seemed more like a dream than a reality? +What color did life look when Grif led Dolly across the threshold, half +trembling himself for very joy? What color did it look when he shut the +door of the little parlor, and, turning round, went to her and folded +her in his arms close to his beating heart? + +Rose color! It was golden and more than golden! And yet, for the first +minute, Dolly could not speak, and the next she laid her cheek in her +favorite place, on the lapel of Grif's coat, and burst into a great +gush of soft, warm tears,--tears without a touch of any other element, +however, than love and happiness. + +"_Home_, Grif!" she said. + +He was quite pale and he had almost lost his voice, too, but he managed +to answer her, unsteadily. + +"Yes, Dolly," he said; "home!" And he stroked the bright hair upon his +breast, with a world of meaning in his touch. + +"Do you think," she said next, "that I am good enough and wise enough to +take care of it, and to take care of _you_, Grif?" + +"Do you think," he said, "that I am good enough and wise enough to take +care of _you_?" + +She lifted up her face and kissed him. + +"We love each other," she whispered, "we trust each other, and so we +can help each other, and God will help us both. Ah, Grif, how bright and +sweet life is!" + +And she scarcely knew, tender little soul, that instead of "life" she +should have said "love." + +There we will leave them both, merely hinting at the festivities that +followed,--merely hinting at the rejoicings at Bloomsbury Place, the +gatherings at Brabazon Lodge, and the grand family reception at the +house of the bride,--a reception at which Dolly shone forth with renewed +splendor, presiding over a gorgeous silver tea-service, which was one +of Miss MacDowlas's many gifts, dispensing tea and coffee with the +deportment of a housekeeper of many years' standing, and utterly +distracting Grif with her matronly airs and graces. + +Vagabondia was itself again in these days, but it was turning its +brighter side outward. Phil was winning success, too, his position in +the world of art was becoming secured, and Bloomsbury Place was to be +touched up and refurnished gradually. Aime had promised to make her +home with Dolly until such time as her sweet little saint's face won +her a home of her own. Miss MacDowlas had been adopted into the family +circle, and was conscious of being happier than she had ever felt since +her long-past youth slipped from her grasp. Tod's teeth were "through," +as Mrs. Phil phrased it, and convulsions had not supervened, to the +ecstasy of his anxious admirers. And Mollie,--well, Mollie waltzed with +Ralph Gowan again on the night of Dolly's reception, and when the dance +was at an end, she went and seated herself near her hostess upon the +green sofa--it was a green sofa, though a far more luxurious one than +Dolly and Grif had ever dared to set their hearts upon in the olden +days. + +"Dolly," she said, blushing for the last time in this history of mine, +and looking down at her bouquet of waxen-white camellias and green +leaves,--"Dolly, I suppose Aime has told you that I am engaged +to--to--" + +"To Mr. Gowan," suggested Dolly. + +"Yes," answered Mollie, "to Mr. Gowan." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson +Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 25727-8.txt or 25727-8.zip ***** This +and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2/25727/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. +Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this +license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and +trademark. 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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: +www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, including +how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to +our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/25727-8.zip b/25727-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3804e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-8.zip diff --git a/25727-h.zip b/25727-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f50a18 --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-h.zip diff --git a/25727-h/25727-h.htm b/25727-h/25727-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70deee5 --- /dev/null +++ b/25727-h/25727-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12074 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: Vagabondia + 1884 + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: June 8, 2008 [EBook #25727] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + VAGABONDIA + </h1> + <h2> + By Frances Hodgson Burnett + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY - 1884 + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AUTHOR'S NOTE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>VAGABONDIA.</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON + US. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH + BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN + LONG YEARS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTHOR'S NOTE. + </h2> + <p> + This my first novel was written several years ago, and published (without + any revision by me) first in a ladies' magazine under the name of + “Dorothea,” and afterwards in book form as “Dolly.” For reasons not + necessary to state here, all control over the book had passed from my + hands. It has been for some time out of print; but, having at last + obtained control of the copyright, I have made such corrections as seemed + advisable, given it the name I originally intended for it, and now issue + it through my regular publishers. + </p> + <p> + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. + </p> + <p> + Washington, November, 1883. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + VAGABONDIA. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + </h2> + <p> + It was a nondescript sort of a room, taking it altogether. A big, sunny + room, whose once handsome papering and corniceing had grown dingy, and + whose rich carpeting had lost its color and pile in places, and yet + asserted its superiority to its surroundings with an air of lost grandeur + in every shabby medallion. There were pictures in abundance on the walls, + and more than one of them were gems in their way, despite the evidence all + bore to being the work of amateurs. The tables were carved elaborately, + and the faded, brocaded chairs were of the order <i>pouf</i>, and as + inviting as they were disreputable in appearance; there was manuscript + music among the general litter, a guitar hung from the wall by a tarnished + blue and silver ribbon, and a violin lay on the piano; and yet, + notwithstanding the air of free-and-easy disorder, one could hardly help + recognizing a sort of vagabond comfort and luxury in the Bohemian + surroundings. It was so very evident that the owners must enjoy life in an + easy, light-hearted, though perhaps light-headed fashion; and it was also + so very evident that their light hearts and light heads rose above their + knowledge of their light purses. + </p> + <p> + They were congregated together now, holding a grand family council around + the centre-table, and Dolly was the principal feature, as usual; and, + embarrassing as the subject of said council was, not one of them looked as + if it was other than a most excellent joke that Dolly, having been invited + into the camps of the Philistines, should find she had nothing to put on + to grace the occasion. And as to Dolly,—well, that young person + stood in the midst of them in her shabby, Frenchy little hat, slapping one + pink palm with a shabby, shapely kid glove, her eyes alight, her comical + dismay and amusement displaying itself even in the arch of her brows. + </p> + <p> + “And so the Philistine leader pounced upon me herself,” she was saying. + “You know the 'Ark,' Phil? Well, they were all in the Ark,—the Rev. + Bilberry in front, and the boys and girls filling up the corners; so you + may imagine the effect produced when they stopped, and Lady Augusta bent + over the side to solemnly proclaim her intention of inviting me to partake + of coffee and conversation on Friday night, with an air of severely + wondering whether I would dare to say 'No!'” + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't you say it?” said Aimée. “You know it will be an awful bore, + Dolly. Those Bilberry clan gatherings always are. You have said so + yourself often enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have,” returned Dolly. “And of course it will be, but it + would be dreadfully indiscreet to let the Bilberry element know I thought + so. The Bilberry doors once closed against us, where is our + respectability, and Phil's chance of success among the Philistines? It is + bad enough, of course, but there is reason to be thankful that I am the + only victim. The rest of you would be sure to blunder into the B. B. B.'s + [meaning the Bilberry black books], and that <i>would</i> be an agreeable + state of affairs. 'Toinette, look at Tod, he is sitting in the coal-box + eating Phil's fusees.” + </p> + <p> + In 'Toinette we find Mrs. Phil, a handsome creature, young enough to have + been in the school-room, but with the face and figure of a Greek goddess, + and a pair of eyes lovely enough to haunt one's dreams as a memory for a + lifetime, and as to the rest, an inconsistent young madcap, whose beauty + and spirit seemed only a necessary part of the household arrangements, and + whose son and heir, in the person of the enterprising Tod (an abbreviate + of Theodore), was the source of unlimited domestic enjoyment and the + object of much indiscreet adoration. It was just like Philip Crewe, this + marrying on probabilities; and it was equally like the rest of them to + accept the state of affairs as an excellent joke, and regard the result as + an exquisite piece of pleasantry. 'Toinette herself was only another + careless, unworldly addition to the family circle, and enjoyed her + position as thoroughly as the rest did; and as to Tod, what a delicate + satire upon responsibilities Tod was, and how tranquilly he comported + himself under a <i>régime</i> which admitted of free access into dangerous + places, and a lack of personal restraint which allowed him all the joys + the infantile mind can revel in! + </p> + <p> + At Dolly's exclamation Toinette rushed at him in his stronghold, and + extricated him from the coal-box with demonstrations of dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Look at his white dress!” she wailed pathetically. “I only put it on a + few minutes ago; and he has eaten two dozen fusees, if this was n't an + empty box when he found it. I hope they won't disagree with him, Phil.” + </p> + <p> + “They won't,” said Phil, composedly. “Nothing does. Dust him, and proceed + to business. I want to hear the rest of Dolly's story.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>think</i>,” said Mollie, “that he ate Shem and Ham this morning, for + I could only find Japheth after he had been playing with his Noah's Ark. + Go on, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait until I have taken off my things,” said Dolly, “and then we 'll talk + it over. We must talk it over, you know, if I am to go.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hat, and then laid her shawl aside,—a little + scarlet shawl, draped about her figure and tossed over one shoulder + smartly, and by no means ungracefully,—and so stood revealed; and it + must be admitted she was well worth looking at. Not a beauty, but a fresh, + wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair, and + large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, because capricious + in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likely to persuade + people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolute beauty could + be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would rather detract from + the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reigned supreme. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular,” she + would say; “it's the being able to persuade people that you are one,—or + better than one. Don't some historians tell us that Cleopatra had red hair + and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind the world so + completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, and to this day + the generality of people are inclined to believe that it was her + supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at her feet.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée's face was more nearly perfect than Dolly's; Mollie's was more + imposing, child as she was; 'Toinette threw her far into the shade in the + matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did all the + difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionable + adorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source of + rejoicing and entertainment to the family. + </p> + <p> + Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music, + paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the most + comfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest to seat + themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen, large, + fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, dropped into a + not ungraceful position at her feet. Aimée, who was a little maiden with a + tender, <i>spirituelle</i> face, and all the forethought of the family, + sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression. 'Toinette and Tod, + <i>posed</i> in the low nursery-chair,—the girl's firm, white arm + flung around the child,—swung lightly to and fro, fit models for an + artist. + </p> + <p> + “You would make a first-class picture,—the lot of you,” commented + Phil, amicably. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the picture,” said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippers + up under her wrapper. “We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going to the + Bilberrys'. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had a + turquoise-blue sat—” + </p> + <p> + “Heavenly!” interrupted Dolly. “I should think so. Particularly celestial + for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, and peculiarly + celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would be as much as my + reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You must learn + discretion, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “There is some consolation in knowing you can't get it,” said 'Toinette. + “You won't be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what <i>are</i> + you going to wear, Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + “That is for the council to decide,” Dolly returned. “First, we must + settle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Other people go the other way about it,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “If we were only rich!” said Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not,” said Dolly. + “There is one thing certain, however,—it must be white.” + </p> + <p> + “A simple white muslin,” suggested 'Toinette, struggling in the grasp of + the immortal Tod,—"a simple white muslin, with an equally simple + wild flower in your hair, <i>à la</i> Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager + Bilberry <i>would</i> like that.” + </p> + <p> + “And a wide blue sash,” suggested Mollie. “And the sleeves tied up with + bows. <i>And</i> tucks, Dolly. Girls, just think of Dolly making great + eyes at an eligible Philistine, in white muslin and a sash and tucks!” + </p> + <p> + She was a hardened little sinner, this Dolly, her only redeeming point + being that she was honest enough about her iniquities,—so honest + that they were really not such terrible iniquities after all, and were + regarded as rather good fun by the <i>habitués</i> of Vagabondia proper. + She laughed just as heartily as the rest of them at Mollie's speech. She + could no more resist the temptation of making great eyes at eligible + Philistines than she could help making them at the entertaining but highly + ineligible Bohemians, who continually frequented Phil's studio. The fear + of man was not before her eyes; and the life she had led had invested her + with a whimsical yet shrewd knowledge of human nature, and a business-like + habit of looking matters in the face, which made her something of a + novelty; and when is not novelty irresistible? And as to the masculine + Philistines,—well, the audacity of Dolly's successes in the very + midst of the enemy's camp had been the cause of much stately + demoralization of Philistine battalions. + </p> + <p> + At her quietest she created small sensations and attracted attention; but + in her wicked moods, when she was in a state of mind to prompt her to + revenge the numerous small slights and overt acts of lofty patronage she + met with, the dowagers stood in some secret awe of her propensities, and + not without reason. Woe betide the daring matron who measured swords with + her at such times. Great would be her confusion and dire her fall before + the skirmish was over, and nothing was more certain than that she would + retire from the field a wiser if not a better woman. After being + triumphantly routed with great slaughter on two or three occasions, the + enemy had discovered this, and decided mentally that it was more discreet + to let “little Miss Crewe” alone, considering that, though it was + humiliating to be routed, even by one of their own forces, it was + infinitely more so to be routed by an innocent-looking young person, whose + position was questionable, and who actually owed her vague shadow of + respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady Augusta Decima + Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, and mother of + the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little Miss Crewe was music + teacher and morning governess. + </p> + <p> + So it was that Mollie's joke about the tucks and white muslin gained + additional point from the family recollection of past experiences. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, “it won't do to talk + nonsense all day. Here 's where we stand, you know. Coffee and + conversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggled old + green tarlatan on the other, and it's Tuesday now.” + </p> + <p> + “And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in the family + mind,” began Phil, with composure. + </p> + <p> + “But that 's nonsense,” interrupted Aimée. “And, as Dolly says, nonsense + won't do now. But,” with a quaint sigh, “we always <i>do</i> talk + nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, with an + exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie's lap, disappeared + through the open door. + </p> + <p> + “I will be back in a minute,” she called back to them, as she ran + up-stairs. “I have just thought of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Girls,” said Mollie, “it's her white merino.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,—a heap of + soft white folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging after + her upon the carpet,—the one presentable relic of a once + inconsistently elaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled + and rolled-up condition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to + unlimited improvement. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten all about it,” she said, triumphantly. “I have never + needed it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but it + looked so nice when I saw it that I could n't help buying it. I once + thought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly, + it 's what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,—things + always come somehow.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be more + rejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would have + been over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperous + people. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turn + now, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrine of + the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly's best bonnet, + or Mollie's shoes, or Aimée's gloves, when occasion demanded such a + course. So the merino was laid upon the table, and the council rose to + examine, comment, and suggest. + </p> + <p> + “A train,” said Dolly, concisely; “no trimming, and swan's-down. Even the + Bilberry could n't complain of that, I 'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, resting her smooth white elbows on the table in a comfortably + lounging posture, regarded the garment with great longing in her drowsy + brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was white satin,” she observed, somewhat irrelevantly, “and I + was going to wear it at a real ball, with real lace, you know, and a court + train, and flowers, and a fan.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly looked down at her handsome childish face good-naturedly. She was + such an incongruous mixture of beauty and utter simplicity, this + easy-going baby of sixteen, that Dolly could not have helped liking her + heartily under any circumstances, even supposing there had been no tie of + relationship between them. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was white satin and you were going to wear it,” she said. + “White satin is just the sort of thing for you, Mollie. Never mind, wait + until the figurative ship comes in.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the interval,” suggested Aimée, “put a stitch or so in that + wrapper of yours. It has been torn for a week now, and Tod tumbles over it + half a dozen times every morning before breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie cast her eyes over her shoulder to give it an indifferent glance as + it rested on the faded carpet behind her. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Lady Augusta would mend things before she sends them to us,” she + said, with sublime <i>naïveté</i>, and then, at the burst of laughter + which greeted her words, she stopped short, staring at the highly + entertained circle with widely opened, innocent eyes. “What are you + laughing at?” she said. “I 'm sure she might. She is always preaching + about liking to have something to occupy her time, and it would be far + more charitable of her to spend her time in that way than in persistently + going into poor houses where the people don't want her, and reading tracts + to them that they don't want to hear.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's appreciation of the audacity of the idea reached a climax in an + actual shriek of delight. + </p> + <p> + “If I had five pounds, which I have not, and never shall have,” she said, + “I would freely give it just to see Lady Augusta hear you say that, my + dear. Five pounds! I would give ten—twenty—fifty, if need be. + It would be such an exquisite joke.” + </p> + <p> + But Mollie did not regard the matter in this light. To her unsophisticated + mind Lady Augusta represented nothing more than periodical boredom in the + shape of occasional calls, usually made unexpectedly, when the house was + at its worst, and nobody was especially tidy,—calls invariably + enlivened by severe comments upon the evil propensities of poor relations + in general, and the shocking lack of respectability in this branch of the + order in particular. Worldly wisdom was not a family trait, Dolly's + half-whimsical assumption of it being the only symptom of the existence of + such a gift, and Mollie was the most sublimely thoughtless of the lot. + Mrs. Phil had never been guilty of a discreet act in her life. Phil + himself regarded consequences less than he regarded anything else, and + Aimée's childish staidness and forethought had certainly not an atom of + worldliness in it. Accordingly, Dolly was left to battle with society, and + now and then, it must be admitted, the result of her brisk affrays did her + no small credit. + </p> + <p> + For a very short space of time the merino was being disposed of to an + advantage; Dolly seating herself in her chair again to renovate the skirt; + Aimée unpicking the bodice, and Mollie looking on with occasional + comments. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Griffith,” she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder at a + figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was opened without + ceremony, and “Grif” made his appearance upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feel + inclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance. He was + a thin, undersized young man, rather out at elbows and shabby of attire, + and with a decided air of Bohemia about him; but his youthful face was + singularly pleasing and innocent, and his long-lashed, brown-black eyes + were more than good-looking,—they were absolutely beautiful in a + soft, pathetic way,—beautiful as the eyes of the loveliest of women. + </p> + <p> + He came into the room as if he was used to coming into it in an every-day + fashion; and Dolly, looking up, gave him a smile and a nod. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are all here, are you?” he said. “What is on hand now? What is + all this white stuff for?” And he drew a chair up close by Dolly's side, + and lifted the merino in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “For Friday night,” answered Aimée. “Bilberry's again, Griffith. Coffee + and conversation this time.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith looked at Dolly inquiringly, but Dolly only laughed and shrugged + her plump shoulders wickedly. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, with a disapproving air, “it ain't true, is it, + Dolly? You are not going to make a burnt-offering of yourself on the + Bilberry shrine again, are you?” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly only laughed the more as she took the merino from him. + </p> + <p> + “If you want a breadth of merino to hold, take another one,” she said. “I + want that. And as to being a burnt-offering on the shrine of Bilberry, my + dear Griffith, you must know it is policy,” and immediately went on with + her unpicking again, while Griffith, bending over in an attitude more + remarkable for ease than grace, looked on at her sharp little glancing + scissors with an appearance of great interest. + </p> + <p> + It would perhaps be as well to pause here to account for this young man's + evident freedom in the family circle. It was very plain that he was + accustomed to coming and going when he pleased, and it was easy to be + adduced from his manner that, to him, Dolly was the chief attraction in + the establishment. The fact was, he was engaged to Dolly, and had been + engaged to her for years, and in all probability, unless his prospects + altered their aspect, would be engaged to her for years to come. In past + time, when both were absurdly young, and ought to have been at school, the + two had met,—an impressionable, good-natured, well-disposed couple + of children, who fell in love with each other unreasoningly and honestly, + giving no thought to the future. They were too young to be married, of + course, and indeed had not troubled themselves about anything so matter of + fact; they had fallen in love, and enjoyed it, and, strange to say, had + been enjoying it ever since, and falling in love more deeply every day of + their affectionate, inconsequent, free-and-easy lives. What did it matter + to them that neither owned a solitary sixpence, for which they had not a + thousand uses? What did it matter to Dolly that Griffith's literary career + had so far been so unremunerative that a new suit is as an event, and an + extra shilling an era? What did it matter to Griffith that Dolly's dresses + were re-trimmed and re-turned and re-furbished, until their reappearance + with the various seasons was the opening of a High Carnival of jokes? Love + is not a matter of bread and butter in Vagabondia, thank Heaven! Love is + left to Bohemia as well as to barren Respectability, and, as Griffith + frequently observed with no slight enthusiasm, “When it comes to figure, + where's the feminine Philistine whose silks and satins and purple and fine + raiment fit like Dolly's do?” So it went on, and the two adored each other + with mutual simplicity, and, having their little quarrels, always made + them up again with much affectionate remorse, and, scorning the prudential + advice of outsiders, believed in each other and the better day which was + to come, when one or the other gained worldly goods enough to admit of a + marriage in which they were to be happy in their own way,—which, I + may add, was a way simple and tender, unselfish and faithful, enough. + </p> + <p> + It was quite evident, however, that Griffith was not in the best of + spirits this morning. He was not as sanguine as Dolly by nature, and + outward influences tended rather to depress him occasionally. But he never + was so low-spirited that Dolly could not cheer him, consequently he always + came to her with his troubles; and to her credit, be it said, she never + failed to understand and deal with them tenderly, commonplace though they + were. So she understood his mood very well to-day. Something had gone + wrong at “the office.” (“The office” was the editorial den which swallowed + him up, and held him in bondage from morning until night; appropriating + his labor for a very small pecuniary compensation, too, it may be added.) + “Old Flynn,” as the principal was respectfully designated, had been + creating one of his periodical disturbances, or he had been snubbed, + which, by the way, was not a rare event, and to poor Griffith slights were + stings and patronage poison. He could not laugh at the enemy and scorn + discomfiture as Dolly could, and the consequence of an encounter with the + Philistines on his part was usually a desperate fit of low spirits, which + made him wretched, bitter, and gloomy by turns. + </p> + <p> + This morning it appeared that his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, + and before many minutes had passed he was pouring forth his tribulations + with much frankness and simplicity. Mr. Griffith Donne's principal trial + was the existence of an elderly maiden aunt, who did not approve of him, + and was in the habit of expressing her disapproval in lengthy epistolary + correspondence, invariably tending to severe denunciation of his mode of + life, and also invariably terminating with the announcement that unless he + “desisted” (from what, or in what manner, not specified) she should + consider it her bounden duty to disinherit him forthwith. One of these + periodical epistles, having arrived before he had breakfasted, had rather + destroyed Griffith's customary equanimity, and various events of the + morning had not improved his frame of mind; consequently he came to Dolly + for comfort. + </p> + <p> + “And she's coming to London, too,” he ended, after favoring the assemblage + with extracts from the letter. “And, of course, she will expect me to do + the dutiful. Confound her money! I wish she would build an asylum for + irate, elderly spinsters with it, and retire into it for the remainder of + her natural life. I don't want it, and"—with praiseworthy + ingenuousness—"I shouldn't get it if I did!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Dolly, when they found themselves alone for a few minutes, “it + would be an agreeable sort of thing to have, Griffith, upon the whole, + wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his arm + thrown round the girl's waist, and she with both her plump, flexible hands + clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big, round + eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestling attitudes + and coaxing ways—with Griffith it may be understood—her other + adorers were treated cavalierly enough. + </p> + <p> + “A nice sort of thing,” echoed Griffith. “I should think it would. I + should like to have it for your sake. I don't care for it so much for + myself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy you + such things as Old Flynn's nieces wear. It would n't be a waste of good + material on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about a + winter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,—a dark blue + velvet, and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs + made of long white silky fur—” + </p> + <p> + “Angora,” said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in her + eyes. “Angora, Griffith.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it's called,” answered Griffith, “but it is exactly + your style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we were only + rich!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over his + shoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in some such + pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposing that they + were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must be admitted that + there is some consolation in being in a frame of mind which can derive + happiness from such innocent day-dreams. + </p> + <p> + “Just think of the house we would have,” she said, “and the fun we could + all have together, if you and I were rich and—and married, Griffith. + We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich + <i>and</i> married—goodness, Griffith!” and she opened her eyes wide + and looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome + by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her in + both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an extremely + but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had kissed her + about half a dozen times. + </p> + <p> + It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding. + She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to it, + and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite a + refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her + disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely. + </p> + <p> + “We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich,” she + said. “And then we could take care, of Aimée and Mollie, and help them to + make grand marriages.” + </p> + <p> + But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “have you never thought—not even <i>thought</i> + that you would like to have made a grand marriage yourself?” And though + there was not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it + was glaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate + with misery at the thought. + </p> + <p> + These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girl + bound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly's great difficulty was to pilot + him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and she had her + own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was to confront + him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking hold of one of + his coat buttons. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of it a hundred times,” she said, “but not since I have + belonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteen + years old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have the + right to trouble us now. <i>You</i> never think of marrying any one but + me, do you, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Think of marrying any one else!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “I + would n't marry a female Rajah with a diamond—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you wouldn't,” Dolly interrupted. “I believe in you, Griffith. Why + won't you believe in me?” And the eyes lifted to his were so perfectly + honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics must have believed + them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, but simply an + unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, too susceptible to + outward influences for his own peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + He was a <i>very</i> unfortunate young man, it may as well be observed at + once, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was not + to blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable, + and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If he had + been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been more + successful; but in his intercourse with the world's slippery ones he + customarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for which he + had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; he had + fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck had seemed to + be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honest men admired + and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesied better days; + but so far it had really seemed that the people who were willing to + befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerful cared little + about the matter. So he alternately struggled and despaired, and yet + retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyed life heartily in + defiance of circumstances. With every member of the Crewe household he was + popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagement to Dolly they regarded as a + satisfactory arrangement. That he was barely able to support himself, and + scarcely possessed a presentable suit of clothes, was to their minds the + most inconsequent of trifles. It was unfortunate, perhaps, but + unavoidable; and their sublime trust in the luck which was to ripen in all + of them at some indefinite future time, was their hope in this case. Some + time or other he would “get into something,” they had decided, and then he + would marry Dolly, and they would all enjoy the attendant festivities. And + in the mean time they allowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith + welcome, inviting him to their little impromptu suppers, and taking care + never to be <i>de trop</i> on the occasion of <i>tête-à-tête</i> + conversations. + </p> + <p> + The <i>tête-à-tête</i> of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went + back to her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach + laid for the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of + mind. He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in + enthusiastic confidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; + she was never out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself + to her accompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited + themselves to her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby + parlor, one instinctively felt that shabbiness was not so utterly + unbearable after all, and acknowledged that it had a brightness of its + own. Meeting her at a clan gathering in the camps of the Philistines, one + always found her in excellent spirits, and quite undamped in her enjoyment + of the frequently ponderous rejoicings. In the Bilberry school-room, among + dog-eared French grammars and lead-pencilled music, education did not + appear actually dispiriting; and now, as she sat by the fire, with the + bright, sharp little scissors in lier hand, and the pile of white merino + on her knees and trailing on the hearth-rug at her feet, Griffith found + her simply irresistible. Ah! the bliss that revealed itself in the + prospect of making her Mrs. Donne, and taking possession of her entirely! + The joy of seeing her seated in an arm-chair of his own, by a fire which + was solely his property, in a room which was nobody else's paradise! He + could imagine so well how she would regard such a state of affairs as a + nice little joke, and would pretend to adapt herself to her position with + divers daring witcheries practised upon himself to the dethroning of his + reason; how she would make innocent, wicked speeches, and be coaxing and + dazzling and mock-matronly by turns; and above all, how she would enjoy + it, and make him enjoy it, too; and yet sometimes, when they were quiet + and alone, would drop all her whimsical little airs and graces, and make + such tender, unselfish, poetic little speeches, that he would find himself + startled in life wonder at the depth and warmth and generosity of her + girlish heart. He often found her surprising him after this manner, and + the surprise usually came when he had just been most nearly betrayed into + thinking of her as an adorable little collection of witcheries and + whimsicalities, and forgetting that she had other moods. More than once + she had absolutely brought tears into his eyes, and a thrill to his heart, + by some sudden, pathetic, trustful speech, made after she had been + dazzling and bewildering for hours with her pretty coquetries and daring + flashes of wit. No one but Griffith ever saw her in these intense moods. + The rest of them saw her intense enough sometimes but the sudden, + uncontrollable flashes of light Griffith saw now and then, fairly + staggered him. And the poor fellow's love for her was something akin to + adoration. There was only this one woman upon earth to him, and his whole + soul was bound up in her. It was for her he struggled against + disappointment, it was for her he hoped, it was only the desperate + strength of his love for her that made disappointment so terribly bitter + to him. Certainly his love made him better and sweeter-tempered and more + energetic than he would have been if his life had not been so full of it. + His one ambition was to gain success to lay at her feet. To him success + meant Dolly, and Dolly meant Paradise, an honest Paradise, in which + primeval bliss reigned supreme and trial was unknown. Consequently the + bright little scissors glanced before his eyes a sort of loadstar. + </p> + <p> + “I did n't tell you that nephew of Old Flynn's had come back, did I?” he + said, at length. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, snipping diligently. “You never mentioned him. What + nephew, and where did he come from?” + </p> + <p> + “A fellow of the name of Gowan, who has been travelling in the East for no + particular reason for the last ten years. He called on Flynn, at the + office, today, for the first time; and if I had been called upon to kick + him out, I should have regarded it as a cheerful and improving + recreation.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” laughed Dolly. “Is he one of the Philistines?” + </p> + <p> + “Philistine!” echoed Griffith, with disgust. “I should think so. A + complacent idiot in a chronic state of fatigue. Drove up to the door in a + cab,—his own, by the way, and a confoundedly handsome affair it is,—gave + the reins to his tiger, and stared at the building tranquilly for at least + two minutes before he came in, stared at Old Flynn when he <i>did</i> come + in, stared at me, shook hands with Old Flynn exhaustedly, and then + subsided into listening and paring his nails during the remainder of the + interview.” + </p> + <p> + “Which might or might not be discreet under the circumstances,” said + Dolly. “Perhaps he had nothing to say. Never mind, Grif. Let us console + ourselves with the thought that we are not as these utterly worthless + explorers of the East are,” with a flourish of the scissors. + </p> + <p> + “Better is a dinner of herbs in Vagabondia, with a garnish of conversation + and <i>bon-mots</i>, than a stalled ox among the Philistines with + dulness.” + </p> + <p> + But about an hour after Griffith had taken his departure, as she was + bending over the table, industriously clipping at the merino, a thought + suddenly crossed her mind, which made her drop her scissors and look up + meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she began, all at once. “Yes, it must be! How was it I did + not think of it when Grif was talking? I am sure, it was Gowan, Lady + Augusta said. To be sure it was. Mollie, this exploring nephew of the + Flynns is to partake of coffee and conversation with us at the Bilberrys' + on Friday, if I am not mistaken, and I never remembered it until now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + </h2> + <p> + A TOILET in Vagabondia was an event. Not an ordinary toilet, of course, + but a toilet extraordinary,—such as is necessarily called forth by + some festive gathering or unusual occasion. It was also an excitement + after a manner, and not a disagreeable one. It made demands upon the + inventive and creative powers of the whole family, and brought to light + hidden resources. It also aroused energy, and, being a success, was + rejoiced over as a brilliant success. Respectability might complacently + retire to its well-furnished chamber, and choose serenely from its + unlimited supply of figurative purple and legendary fine linen, without + finding a situation either dramatic or amusing; but in Vagabondia this was + not the case. Having contrived to conjure up, as it were, from the secret + places of the earth an evening dress, are not gloves still necessary? and, + being safe as regards gloves, do not the emergencies of the toilet call + for minor details seemingly unimportant, but still not to be done without? + Finding this to be the case, the household of Crewe rallied all its forces + upon such occasions, and set aside all domestic arrangements for the time + being. It was not impossible that Dolly should have prepared for a + rejoicing without the assistance of Mollie and Aimée, Mrs. Phil and Tod, + with occasional artistic suggestions from Phil and any particular friend + of the family who chanced to be below-stairs, within hearing distance. It + might not have appeared an impossibility, I should say, to ordinary + people, but the household of Crewe regarded it as such, and accordingly, + on the night of the Bilberry gathering, accompanied Dolly in a body to her + tiring-room. + </p> + <p> + Upon the bed lay the merino dress, white, modest, and untrimmed, save for + the swan's-down accompaniments, but fitting to a shade and exhibiting an + artistic sweep of train. + </p> + <p> + “It is a discreet sort of garment,” said Dolly, by way of comment; “and it + is 'suitable to our social position.' Do you remember when Lady Augusta + said that about my black alpaca, girls? Pleasant little observation, was + n't it? 'Toinette, I trust hair-pins are not injurious to infantile + digestive organs. If they are, perhaps it would be as well to convince Tod + that such is the case. What is the matter, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, leaning upon the dressing-table in her favorite attitude, was + looking rather discontented. She was looking very pretty, also, it might + be said. Her sleepy, warm brown eyes, being upraised to Dolly, showed + larger and warmer and browner than usual; the heavy brown locks, tumbling + down over her shoulders, caught a sort of brownish, coppery shade in the + flare of gas-light; there was a flush on her soft cheeks, and her ripe + lips were curved in a lovely dissatisfaction. Hence Dolly's remark. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was going,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + Dolly's eyes flew open wide, in a very sublimity of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Wish you were going?” she echoed. “To the Bilberrys'?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself a + little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, and + find out what they do, and wear an evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “you are very innocent; and I always knew you were + very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,—so + utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a + Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe,” still regarding her with that + questioning pity, “—I believe you really <i>could</i>. I must keep + an eye on you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it + should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to + see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She + understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, + and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she + suggested it. + </p> + <p> + “Put it on, Mollie,” she said, “and let us see how you would look in it. I + should like to see you in full dress.” + </p> + <p> + The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went to + the bed. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train,” she said; + “but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it together + at the waist.” + </p> + <p> + She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; + and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned + round with a start. + </p> + <p> + Standing in the light; the soft heavy white folds draping themselves about + her statuesque curves of form as they might have draped themselves about + the limbs of some young marble Grace or Goddess, with her white arms and + shoulders uncovered, with her unchildish yet youthful face, with her + large-irised eyes, her flush of momentary pleasure and half awkwardness, + she was just a little dazzling, and Dolly did not hesitate to tell her so. + </p> + <p> + “You are a beauty, Mollie,” she said. “And you are a woman in that dress. + If you were only a Bilberry now, what a capital your face would be to you, + and what a belle you would be!” + </p> + <p> + Which remarks, if indiscreet, were affectionate, and made in perfect good + faith. + </p> + <p> + But when, having donned the merino herself, she made her way down the dark + staircase to the parlor, there was a vague ghost of uneasiness in her + mind, and it was the sight of Mollie in full dress which had aroused it. + </p> + <p> + “She is so very pretty,” she said to herself. “I scarcely knew how very + pretty she was until I turned round from the glass to look at her. What a + pity it is that we are not rich enough to do her justice, and let her + enjoy herself as other girls do. And—and,” with a little sigh, “I am + afraid we are a dreadfully careless lot. I wonder if Phil ever thinks + about it? And she is so innocent and ignorant too. I hope she won't fall + in love with anybody disreputable. I wish I knew how to take care of her.” + </p> + <p> + And yet when she went into the parlor to run the gauntlet of family + inspection, and walked across the floor to show the sweep of her train, + and tried her little opera hood on Tod before putting it on herself, a + casual observer would certainly have decided that she had never had a + serious thought in her life. Griffith was there, of course. At such times + his presence was considered absolutely necessary, and his admiration was + always unbounded. His portion it was to tuck her under his arm and lead + her out to the cab when the train and wraps were arranged and the hood put + on. This evening, when he had made her comfortable and shut the door, she + leaned out of the window at the last moment to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to tell you, Griffith,” she said, “Lady Augusta said something + about a Mr. Gowan to Mr. Bilberry the other day when she invited me. I + wonder if it is the Gowan you were telling me about? He is to be there + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” answered Griffith, with sudden discontent. “He is just + the sort of fellow the Bilberrys would lionize.” + </p> + <p> + It was rather incorrect of Dolly to feel, as she did, a sudden flash of + anticipation. She could not help it. This intense appreciation of a novel + or dramatic encounter with an eligible Philistine was her great weakness, + and she made no secret of it even with her lover, which was unwise if + frank. + </p> + <p> + She gave her fan a wicked flirt, and her eyes flashed as she did it. + </p> + <p> + “A mine of valuable information lies unexplored before me,” she said. “I + must make minute inquiries concerning the habits and peculiarities of the + people of the East. I shall take the lion in tow, and Lady Augusta's + happiness will be complete.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith turned pale—his conquering demon was jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Dolly,” he began. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly settled herself in her seat again, and waved her hand with an + air of extreme satisfaction. She did not mean to make him miserable, and + would have been filled with remorse if she had quite understood the extent + of the suffering she imposed upon him sometimes merely through her spirit, + and the daring onslaughts she made upon people for whom she cared little + or nothing. She understood his numerous other peculiarities pretty + thoroughly, but she did not understand his jealousy, for the simple reason + that she had never been jealous in her life. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the cabman to drive on,” she said, with a flourish. “There is balm + to be found even in Bilberry.” + </p> + <p> + And when the man drove on she composed herself comfortably in a corner of + the vehicle, in perfect unconsciousness of the fact that she had left a + thorn behind, rankling in the bosom of the poor fellow who watched her + from the pavement. + </p> + <p> + She was rather late, she found, on reaching her destination. The parlors + were full, and the more enterprising of the guests were beginning to group + themselves in twos and threes, and make spasmodic efforts at conversation. + But conversation at a Bilberry assemblage was rarely a success,—it + was so evident that to converse was a point of etiquette, and it was so + patent that conversation was expected from everybody, whether they had + anything to say or not. + </p> + <p> + Inoffensive individuals of retiring temperament, being introduced to each + other solemnly and with ceremony, felt that to be silent was to be guilty + of a glaring breach of Bilberry decorum, and, casting about in mental + agony for available remarks, found none, and were overwhelmed with amiable + confusion. Lady Augusta herself, in copper-colored silk of the most + unbending quality and make, was not conducive to cheerfulness. Yet Dolly's + first thought on catching sight of her this evening was a cheerful if + audacious one. + </p> + <p> + “She looks as if she was dressed in a boiler,” she commented, inwardly. “I + wonder if I shall ever live so long—I wonder if I ever <i>could</i> + live long enough to submit to a dress like that. And yet she seems to be + almost happy in the possession of it. But, I dare say, that is the result + of conscious virtue.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very fortunate thing for Dolly that she was not easily + discomposed. Most girls entering a room full of people, evidently + unemployed, and in consequence naturally prone to not too charitable + criticism of new-comers, might have lost self-possession. Not so Dolly + Crewe. Being announced, she came in neither with unnecessary hurry nor + timidly, and with not the least atom of shrinking from the eyes turned + toward her; and, simple and unassuming a young person as she appeared on + first sight, more than one pair of eyes in question found themselves + attracted by the white merino, the white shoulders, the elaborate tresses, + and the serene, innocent-looking orbs. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta advanced slightly to meet her, with a grewsome rustling of + copper-colored stiffness. She did not approve of Dolly at any time, but + she specially disapproved of her habit of setting time at defiance and + ignoring the consequences. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see you,” she said, with the air of a potentate issuing + a proclamation. “I <i>thought</i>”—somewhat severely—"that you + were not coming at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” remarked Dolly, with tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned her ladyship. “And I could not understand it. It is nine + o'clock now, and I <i>believe</i> I mentioned eight as the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you did,” said Dolly, unfurling her small downy fan, and using + it with much serene grace; “but I wasn't ready at eight. I hope you are + very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied her ladyship, icily. “I am very well. Will you go and + take a seat by Euphemia? I allowed her to come into the room to-night, and + I notice that her manner is not so self-possessed as I should wish.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly gave a little nod of acquiescence, and looked across the room to + where the luckless Euphemia sat edged in a corner behind a row of + painfully conversational elderly gentlemen, who were struggling with the + best intentions to keep up a theological discourse with the Rev. + Marmaduke. Euphemia was the eldest Miss Bilberry. She was overgrown and + angular, and suffered from chronic embarrassment, which was not alleviated + by the eye of her maternal parent being upon her. She was one of Dolly's + pupils, and cherished a secret but enthusiastic admiration for her. And, + upon the whole, Dolly was fond of the girl. She was good-natured and + unsophisticated, and bore the consciousness of her physical and mental + imperfections with a humility which was almost touching to her friend + sometimes. Catching Dolly's eye on this occasion, she glanced at her + imploringly, and then, catching the eye of her mother, blushed to the tips + of her ears, and relapsed into secret anguish of mind. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly, recognizing her misery, smiled reassuringly, and made her way + across the room to her, insinuating herself through the theological + phalanx. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you are here at last,” said the girl. “I was so afraid you + would n't come. And oh, how nice you look, and how beautifully you manage + your train! I could never do it in the world. I should be sure to tumble + over it. But nothing ever seems to trouble you at all. You haven't any + idea how lovely you were when you went across the room to mamma. Everybody + looked at you, and I don't wonder at it.” + </p> + <p> + “They would have looked at anybody,” answered Dolly, laughing. “They had + nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite true, poor things,” sighed Euphemia, sympathetically. “You + don't know the worst yet, either. You don't know how stupid they are and + can be, Dolly. That old gentleman near the screen has not spoken one word + yet, and he keeps sighing and wiping the top of his bald head with his + pocket-handkerchief until I can't keep my eyes off him, and I am afraid he + has noticed me. I don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but I have got nothing to + do myself, and I can't help it. But what I was going to say was, that + people looked at you as they did not look at others who came in. You seem + different some way. And I'm sure that Mr. Gowan of mamma's has been + staring at you until it is positively rude of him.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's slowly moving fan became stationary for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said. “Who is Mr. Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + “One of mamma's people,” answered Euphemia, “though I'm sure I can't quite + understand how he can be one of them. He looks so different from the rest. + He is very rich, you know, and very aristocratic, and has travelled a + great deal He has been all over the world, they say. There he is at that + side-table.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's eyes, travelling round the assemblage with complacent + indifference, rested at last on the side-table where the subject of + Euphemia's remarks sat. + </p> + <p> + He really was an eligible Philistine, it seemed, despite Griffith's + unflattering description of him. + </p> + <p> + He was a long-limbed, graceful man, with an aquiline face and superb eyes, + which at this moment were resting complacently upon Dolly herself. It was + not exactly admiration, either, which they expressed, it was something of + a more entertaining nature, at least so Dolly found it,—it was + nothing more nor less than a slowly awakening interest in her which paid + her the compliment of rising above the surface of evident boredom and + overcoming lassitude. It looked as if he was just beginning to study her, + and found the game worth the candle. Dolly met his glance with steadiness, + and as she met it she measured him. Then she turned to Euphemia again and + fluttered the fan slowly and serenely. + </p> + <p> + “He's nice, is n't he?” commented the guileless Phemie. “If the rest of + them were like him, I don't think we should be so stupid, but as it is, + you know, he can't talk when there is nobody to talk to.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dolly. “One could hardly expect it of him. But I wonder why he + does not say something to that thin lady in the dress-cap.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Phemie, “I don't wonder in the least. That is Miss + Berenice MacDowlas, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Berenice MacDowlas!” echoed Dolly, with a start. “You don't say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Euphemia. “Do you know her? You spoke as if you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—yes—no,” answered Dolly, with a half laugh. “I should + say I know somebody who does.” + </p> + <p> + And she looked as if she was rather enjoying some small joke of her own. + The fact was that Miss MacDowlas was no other than Griffith's amiable + aunt. But, of course, it would not have done to tell this to Euphemia + Bilberry. Euphemia's ideas on the subject of the tender passion were as + yet crude and unformed, and Dolly Crewe was not prone to sentimental + confidences, so, as yet, Euphemia and indeed the whole Bilberry family, + remained in blissful ignorance of the very existence of such a person as + Mr. Griffith Donne. + </p> + <p> + If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a + promising subject for diplomatic beguiling. + </p> + <p> + “We have no need to depend upon her,” was Dolly's mental decision. “One + glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with her. + I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory when + 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting.” + </p> + <p> + And her vivid recollection of the personal adornments of Tod at such times + brought a smile to her lips. + </p> + <p> + She made herself very comfortable in her corner, and, exerting herself to + her utmost to alleviate Euphemia's sufferings, succeeded so far that the + girl forgot everything else but her enjoyment of her friend's caustic + speeches and satirical little jokes. Dolly was not afraid of results, and, + standing in due awe of public opinion, gave herself up to the encouraging + of any shadow of amusement quite heartily. She was so entertaining in a + small way upon this occasion, that Euphemia's frame of mind became in some + degree ecstatic. From her place of state across the room, Lady Augusta + regarded them with disapproval. It was so very evident that they were + enjoying themselves, and that this shocking Dorothea Crewe was not to be + suppressed. (Dorothea, be it known, was Dolly's baptismal name, and Lady + Augusta held to its full pronunciation as a matter of duty.) It was + useless, however, to disapprove. Behind the theological phalanx Dolly sat + enthroned plainly in the best of spirits, and in rather a dangerous mood, + to judge from outward appearances. There was nothing of the poor relation + about her at least. The little snowy fan was being manipulated gracefully + and with occasional artistic nourishes, her enjoyable roulades of laughter + tinkled audaciously, her white shoulders were expressive, her gestures + charming, and, above all, people were beginning to look at her admiringly, + if not with absolute envy. Something must be done. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta moved across the room, piloting her way between people on + ottomans and people on chairs, rustling with awe-inspiring majesty; and, + reaching the corner at last, she spoke to the daring Dolly over the heads + of the phalanx. + </p> + <p> + “Dorothea,” she said, “we should like a little music.” + </p> + <p> + This she had expected would be a move which could not fail to set the + young person in her right place. It would show her that her time was not + her own, and that she was expected to make herself useful; and it would + also set to rights any little mistake lookers-on might have previously + labored under as to her position. But even this did not destroy Dolly's + equanimity. She finished the small joke she had been making to Phemie, and + then turned to her august relative with a sweet but trying smile. + </p> + <p> + “Music?” she said. “Certainly.” And arose at once. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Augusta saw her mistake. It was only another chance for Miss + Dolly to display herself to advantage, after all. When she arose from her + seat in the corner, and gave a glance of inspection to her train over her + bare white shoulder, people began to look at her again; and when she + crossed the room, she was an actual Sensation,—and to create a + sensation in the Bilberry parlors was to attain a triumph. Worse than + this, also, as her ladyship passed the bald-headed individual by the + screen, that gentleman—who was a lion as regarded worldly + possessions—condescended to make his first remark for the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty girl, that,” he said. “Nice girl,—fine figure. Relative?” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter's governess, sir,” replied her ladyship, rigidly. + </p> + <p> + And in Dolly's passage across the room another incident occurred which was + not lost upon the head of the house of Bilberry. Near the seat of Mr. + Ralph Gowan stood a vacated chair, which obstructed the passage to the + piano, and, observing it, the gentleman in question rose and removed it, + bowing obsequiously in reply to Dolly's slight gesture of thanks, and when + she took her place at the instrument he moved to a seat near by, and + settled himself to listen with the air of a man who expected to enjoy the + performance. + </p> + <p> + And he evidently did enjoy it, for a very pleasant little performance it + was. The songs had a thrill of either pathos or piquancy in every word and + note, and the audience found they were listening in spite of themselves. + </p> + <p> + When they were ended, Ralph Gowan sought out Lady Augusta in her + stronghold, and placidly proposed being introduced to her young guest; and + since it was evident that he intended to leave her no alternative, her + ladyship was fain to comply; and so, before half the evening was over, + Dolly found herself being entertained as she had never been entertained + before in the camps of the Philistines at least. And as to the Eastern + explorer, boredom was forgotten for the time, and he gave himself up + entirely to the amusing and enjoying of this piquant young person with the + white shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Crewe,” he said to her during the course of their first conversation. “I + am sure Lady Augusta said 'Crewe.' Then you are relatives, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor relations,” answered Dolly, coolly, and without a shadow of + discomfiture. “I am the children's governess. Trying, is n't it?” + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan met the gaze of the bright eyes admiringly. Even at this early + period of their acquaintance he was falling into the snare every other man + fell into,—the snare of finding that Dolly Crewe was startlingly + unlike anybody else. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the children,” he said. “Under such circumstances education must + necessarily acquire a new charm.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + When supper was announced, Lady Augusta made another attack and was foiled + again. She came to their corner, and, bending over Dolly, spoke to her in + stage-whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I will bring young Mr. Jessup to take you into the supper-room, + Dorothea,” she said. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly's plans were already arranged, and even if such had not been the + case she would scarcely have rejoiced at the prospect of the escort of + young Mr. Jessup, who was a mild young idiot engaged in the study of + theology. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lady Augusta,” she said, cheerfully, “but I have promised Mr. + Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + And Lady Augusta had the pleasure of seeing her leave the room a minute + later, with her small glove slipped through Ralph Gowan's arm, and the + plainly delighted face of that gentleman inclined attentively toward the + elaborate Frenchy coiffure. + </p> + <p> + At the supper-table little Miss Crewe was a prominent feature. At her end + of the table conversation flourished and cheerfulness reigned. Even + Euphemia and young Mr. Jessup, who had come down together in a mutual + agony of embarrassment, began to pluck up spirit and hazard occasional + remarks, and finally even joined in the laughter at Dolly's witticism. + </p> + <p> + People lower down the table glanced up across the various dishes, and + envied the group who seemed to set the general heaviness and discontent at + defiance. + </p> + <p> + Dolly, accompanied by coffee and cakes, was more at home and more + delightful than ever, so delightful, indeed, that Ralph Gowan began to + regard even Lady Augusta with gratitude, since it was to her he was, to + some extent, indebted for his new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “She is a delightful—yes, a delightful girl!” exclaimed young Mr. + Jessup, confidentially addressing-Euphemia, and blushing vividly at his + own boldness. “I never heard such a laugh as she has in my life. It is + actually exhilarating. It quite raises one's spirits,” with mild <i>naïveté</i>. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia began to brighten at once. She could talk about Dolly Crewe if + she could talk about nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you have n't seen <i>anything</i> of her yet,” she said, in a + burst of enthusiasm. “If you could only see her every day, as I do, and + hear the witty things she says, and see how self-possessed she is, when + other people would be perfectly miserable with confusion, there would be + no wonder at your saying you never saw anybody like her. <i>I</i> never + did, I am sure. And then, you know, somehow or other, she always looks so + well in everything she wears,—even in the shabbiest things, and her + things are nearly always shabby enough, for they are dreadfully poor. She + is always finding new ways of wearing things or new ways of doing her hair + or—or something. It is the way her dresses fit, I think. Oh, dear, + how I do wish the dressmaker could make mine fit as hers do! Just look at + that white merino, now, for instance. It is the plainest dress in the + room, and there is not a bit of fuss or trimming about it, and yet see how + soft the folds look and how it hangs,—the train, you know. It + reminds me of a picture,—one of those pictures in fashionable + monthlies,—illustrations of love stories, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very pretty dress,” said young Mr. Jessup, eying it with great + interest. “What did you say the stuff was called?” + </p> + <p> + “Merino,” answered Phemie. + </p> + <p> + “Merino,” repeated Mr. Jessup. “I will try and remember. I should like my + sister Lucinda Maria to have a dress like it.” + </p> + <p> + And he regarded it with growing admiration just tempered by the effect of + a mental picture of Lucinda Maria, who was bony and of remarkable + proportions, attired in its soft and flowing counterpart, with white + swan's-down adorning her bare shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” said Miss MacDowlas, at the bottom of the table, to Lady + Augusta,—"may I ask who that young lady with the fresh completion + is,—the young lady in white at the other end?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my governess,” replied her ladyship, freezingly. “Miss Dorothea + Crewe.” + </p> + <p> + And Miss MacDowlas settled her eye-glass and gave Miss Dorothea Crewe the + benefit of a prolonged examination. + </p> + <p> + “Crewe,” she said, at length. “Poor relation, I suppose?” with some + sharpness of manner. Dignity was lost upon Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “A branch of my family who are no great credit to it,” was the majestic + rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed,” was the lady's sole remark, and then Miss MacDowlas returned + to her coffee, still, however, keeping her double eye-glass across her + nose and casting an occasional glance at Dolly. + </p> + <p> + And just at this particular moment Dolly was unconsciously sealing Ralph + Gowan's fate for him. Quite unconsciously, I repeat, for the most serious + of Dolly's iniquities were generally unconscious. When she flirted, her + flirtations were of so frank and open a nature, that, bewildered and + fascinated though her victims might be, they must have been blind indeed + to have been deceived, and so there were those who survived them and left + the field safe, though somewhat sore at heart. But when she was in her + honest, earnest, life-enjoying moods, and meant no harm,—when she + was simply enjoying herself and trying to amuse her masculine companion, + when her gestures were unconscious and her speeches unstudied, when she + laughed through sheer merriment and was charmingly theatrical because she + could not help it and because little bits of pathos and comedy were + natural to her at times, then it was that the danger became deadly; then + it was that her admirers were regardless of consequences, and defied + results. And she was in just such a mood to-night. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see us?” she was saying. “Of course you may; and if you come, + you shall have an insight into the domestic workings of modern Vagabondia. + You shall be introduced to half a dozen people who toil not, neither do + they spin successfully, for their toiling and spinning seems to have + little result, after all. You shall see shabbiness and the spice of life + hand-in-hand; and, I dare say, you will find that the figurative dinner of + herbs is not utterly destitute of a flavor of <i>piquancy</i>. You shall + see people who enjoy themselves in sheer defiance of circumstances, and + who find a pathos in every-day events, which, in the camps of the + Philistines, mean nothing. Yes, you may come if you care to.” And Ralph + Gowan, looking down at the changeful eyes, saw an almost tender light + shining in their depths,—summoned up all at once perhaps by one of + those inexplicable touches of pathos of which she had spoken. + </p> + <p> + But even coffee and conversation must come to an end at last, and so the + end of this evening came. People began to drop away one by one, bidding + their hostess good-night with the air of individuals who had performed a + duty, and were relieved to find it performed and disposed of for the time + being. So Dolly, leaving her companion with a bright farewell, and amiably + disposing of Lady Augusta, slipped up-stairs to the retiring-room for her + wraps. In the course of three minutes she came down again, the scarlet + shawl draped around her, and the highly ornamental hood donned. She was of + so little consequence in the Bilberry household that no one met her when + she reappeared. Even the servants knew that her convenience or + inconvenience was of small moment, so the task of summoning her cab would + have devolved upon herself, had it not been for a little incident, which + might have been either an accident or otherwise. As she came down the + staircase a gentleman crossed the threshold of the parlor and came to meet + her,—and this gentleman was no other than Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have the pleasure of putting you into your—” + </p> + <p> + “Cab,” ended Dolly, with a trill of a laugh,—it was so evident that + he had been going to say “carriage.” “Thank you, with the greatest of + pleasure. Indeed, it is rather a relief to me, for they generally keep me + waiting. And I detest waiting.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her into her seat, and lingered to see that she was comfortable, + perhaps with unnecessary caution; and then, when she gave him her hand + through the window, he held it for a moment longer than was exactly called + for by the exigencies of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “You will not forget that you have given me permission to call,” he said, + hesitating slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no!” she answered. “I shall not forget. We are always glad to + see people—in Vagabondia.” + </p> + <p> + And as the cab drove off, she waved the hand he had held in an airy + gesture of adieu, gave him a bewildering farewell nod, and, withdrawing + her face from the window, disappeared in the shadow within. + </p> + <p> + “Great Jove!” meditated Ralph Gowan, when he had seen the last of her. + “And this is a nursery governess,—a sort of escape-valve for the + spleen and ill moods of that woman in copper-color. She teaches them + French and music, I dare say, and makes those spicy little jokes of hers + over the dog-eared arithmetic. Ah, well! such is impartial Fortune,” And + he strolled back into the house again, to make his adieus to Lady Augusta, + with the bewitching Greuze face fresh in his memory. + </p> + <p> + But, for her part, Dolly, having left him behind in the Philistine camp, + was nestling comfortably in the dark corner of her cab, thinking of + Griffith, as she always did think of him when she found herself alone for + a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he will be at home when I get there,” she said. “Poor fellow! + he would find it dull enough without me, unless they were all in unusually + good spirits. I wonder if the time ever will come when we shall have a + little house of our own, and can go out together or stay at home, just as + we like.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + </h2> + <p> + “After a holiday comes a rest day.” The astuteness of this proverb + continually proved itself in Vagabondia, and this was more particularly + the case when the holiday had been Dolly's, inasmuch as Dolly was + invariably called upon to “fight her battles o'er again,” and recount her + experiences the day following a visit, for the delectation of the + household. Had there appeared in the camps a Philistine of notoriety, then + that Philistine must play his or her part again through the medium of + Dolly's own inimitable powers of description or representation; had any + little scene occurred possessing a spice of flavoring, or illustrating any + Philistine peculiarity, then Dolly was quite equal to the task of putting + it upon the family stage, and re-enacting it with iniquitous seasonings + and additions of her own. And yet the fun was never of an ill-natured + sort. When Dolly gave them a correct embodiment of Lady Augusta in + reception of her guests, with an accurate description of the “great + Copper-Boiler costume,” the bursts of applause meant nothing more than + that Dolly's imitative gifts were in good condition, and that the “great + Copper-Boiler costume” was a success. Then, the feminine mind being keenly + alive to an interest in earthly vanities, an enlargement on Philistine + adornments was considered necessary, and Dolly always rendered herself + popular by a minute description of the reigning fashions, as displayed by + the Bilberry element. She found herself quite repaid for the trouble of + going into detail, by the unsophisticated pleasure in Mollie's eyes alone, + for to Mollie outward furnishings seemed more than worthy of description + and discussion. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, the morning after Lady Augusta's <i>conversazione</i>, Dolly + gave herself up to the task of enlivening the household. It was Saturday + morning, fortunately, and on Saturday her visits to the Bilberry mansion + were dispensed with, so she was quite at liberty to seat herself by the + fire, with Tod in her arms, and recount the events of the evening. Somehow + or other, she had almost regarded him as a special charge from the first. + She had always been a favorite with him, as she was a favorite with most + children. She was just as natural and thoroughly at home with Tod in her + arms, or clambering over her feet, or clutching at the trimmings of her + dress, as she was under any other circumstances; and when on this occasion + Griffith came in at noon to hear the news, and found her kneeling upon the + carpet with outstretched hands teaching the pretty little tottering fellow + to walk, he felt her simply irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “Come to Aunt Dolly,” she was saying. “Tod, come to Aunt Dolly.” And then + she looked up laughing. “Look at him, Griffith,” she said. “He has walked + all the way from that arm-chair.” And then she made a rush at the child, + and caught him in her arms with a little whirl, and jumped up with such a + light-hearted enjoyment of the whole affair that it was positively + exciting to look at her. + </p> + <p> + It was quite natural—indeed, it would have been quite unnatural if + she had not found her usual abiding-place in her lover's encircling arm at + once, even with Tod conveniently established on one of her own, and + evidently regarding his own proximity upon such an occasion as remarkable + if nothing else. That arm of Griffith's usually <i>did</i> slip around her + waist even at the most ordinary times, and long use had so accustomed + Dolly to the habit that she would have experienced some slight feeling of + astonishment if the familiarity had been omitted. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a surprise to the young man to find that Miss MacDowlas had + appeared upon the scene, and that she had partaken of coffee and + conversation in the flesh the evening before. + </p> + <p> + “But it's just like her,” he said. “She is the sort of relative who always + <i>does</i> turn up unexpectedly, Dolly. How does she look?” + </p> + <p> + “Juvenescent,” said Dolly; “depressingly so to persons who rely upon her + for the realizing of expectations. A very few minutes satisfied me that I + should never become Mrs. Griffith Donne upon <i>her</i> money. It is a + very fortunate thing for us that we are of Vagabondian antecedents, + Griffith,—just see how we might trouble ourselves, and wear our + patience out over Miss MacDowlas, if we troubled ourselves about anything. + This being utterly free from the care of worldly possessions makes one + touchingly disinterested. Since we have nothing to expect, we are + perfectly willing to wait until we get it.” + </p> + <p> + She had thought so little about Ralph Gowan,—once losing sight of + him, as he stood watching her on the pavement, that in discussing other + subjects she had forgotten to mention him, and it was only Mollie's + entrance into the room that brought him upon the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Coming in, with her hair bunched up in a lovely, disorderly knot, and the + dimple on her left cheek artistically accentuated by a small patch of + black, the youngest Miss Crewe yet appeared to advantage, when, after + appropriating Tod, she slipped down into a sitting posture with him on the + carpet, in the midst of the amplitude of folds of Lady Augusta's once + gorgeous wrapper. + </p> + <p> + “Have you told him about the great Copper-Boiler costume, Dolly?” she + said, bending down so that one brown tress hung swaying before Tod's eyes. + “Has she, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Griffith, looking at her with a vague sense of admiration. + He shared all Dolly's enthusiasm on the subject of Mollie's prettiness. + </p> + <p> + “Was n't it good? I wish I was as cool as Dolly is. And poor Phemie—and + the gentleman who made love to you all the evening, Dolly. What was his + name? Was n't it Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + Griffith's eyes turned toward Dolly that instant. + </p> + <p> + “Gowan!” he exclaimed. “You didn't say anything about him. You didn't even + say he was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Did n't she?” said Mollie, looking up with innocently wide-open eyes. + “Why, he made love to her all—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would n't talk such rubbish, Mollie,” Dolly interrupted her—a + trifle sharply because she understood the cloud on her lover's face so + well. “Who said Mr. Gowan made love to me? Not I, you may be sure. I told + you he talked to me, and that was all.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not tell <i>me</i> that much,” said Griffith, dryly. + </p> + <p> + It would scarcely have been human nature for Dolly not to have fired a + little then, in spite of herself. She was constitutionally good-natured, + but she was not seraphic, and her lover's rather excusable jealousy was + specially hard to bear, when, as upon this occasion, it had no real + foundation. + </p> + <p> + “I did not think it necessary,” she said; “and, besides, I forgot; but if + you wish to know the particulars,” with a stiff little air of dignity, “I + can give them you. Mr. Gowan was there, and found the evening stupid, as + every one else did. There was no one else to talk to, so he talked to me, + and when I came home he put me into the cab. And, the fact is, he is a + good-natured Philistine enough. That is all, I believe, unless you would + like me to try to record all he said.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” answered Griffith, and instantly began to torture himself + with imagining what he really had said, making the very natural mistake of + imagining what he would have said himself, and then giving Ralph Gowan + credit for having perpetrated like tender gallantries. He never could + divest himself of the idea that every living man found Dolly as entrancing + as he found her himself. It could only be one man's bitter-sweet portion + to be as desperately and inconsolably in love with her as he was himself, + and no other than himself, or a man who might be his exact prototype, + could have cherished a love at once so strong and so weak. There had been + other men who had loved Dolly Crewe,—-adored her for a while, in + fact, and imagined themselves wretches because they had been unsuccessful; + but they had generally outlived their despair, and their adoration, + cooling for want of sustenance, had usually settled down into a + comfortable admiring liking for the cause of their misery, but it would + never have been so with Griffith. This ordinary, hard-working, ill-paid + young man had passionate impulse and hidden power of suffering enough in + his restive nature to make a broken hope a broken life to him. His + long-cherished love for the shabbily attired, often-snubbed, dauntless + young person yclept Dorothea Crewe was the mainspring of his existence. He + would have done daring deeds of valor for her sake, if circumstances had + called upon him to comport himself in such tragic manner; had he been a + knight of olden time, he would just have been the chivalrous, hotheaded, + but affectionate young man to have entered the lists in his love's behalf, + and tilted against tremendous odds, and died unvanquished; but living in + the nineteenth century, his impetuosity, being necessarily restrained, + became concentrated upon one point, and chafed him terribly at times. + Without Dolly, he would have been without an object in life; with Dolly, + he was willing to face any amount of discouragement and misfortune; and at + this stage of his affection—after years of belief in that far-off + blissful future—to lose her would have brought him wreck and ruin. + </p> + <p> + So when Dolly, in the full consciousness of present freedom from iniquity, + withdrew herself from his encircling arm and turned her attention to Tod + and Mollie, he was far more wretched than he had any right to be, and + stood watching them, and gnawing his slender mustache, gloomy and + distrustful. + </p> + <p> + But this could not last long, of course. They might quarrel, but they + always made friends; and when in a short time Mollie, doubtless feeling + herself a trifle in the way, left the room with the child, Dolly's + impulsive warm-heartedness got the better of her upon this occasion as + upon all others. + </p> + <p> + She came back to her lover's side and laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us quarrel about Ralph Gowan, Griffith,” she said. “It was my + fault; I ought to have told you.” + </p> + <p> + He fairly crushed her in his remorseful embrace almost before she had + finished her appeal. His distrust of her was as easily overcome as it was + roused; one touch of her hand, one suspicion of a tremor in her voice, + always conquered him and reduced him to penitent submission. + </p> + <p> + “You are an angel,” he said, “and I am an unfeeling clod. No other woman + would bear with me as you do. God bless you, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She nestled within his arms and took his caresses almost gratefully. + Perhaps it would have been wiser to have shown him how deep a sting his + want of faith gave her sometimes, but she was always so glad when their + misunderstandings were at an end, that she would not have so revenged + herself upon him for the world. The cool, audacious self she exhibited in + the camps of the Philistines was never shown to Griffith; in her + intercourse with him she was only a slightly intensified edition of the + child he had fallen in love with years before,—a bright, + quick-witted child, with a deep nature and an immense faculty for loving + and clinging to people. Dolly at twenty-two was pretty much what she had + been at fifteen, when they had quarrelled and made up again, loved each + other and romanced over the future brilliancy of prospect which now seemed + just as far off as ever. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes after the clearing away of the temporary cloud, they were + in a seventh heaven of bliss, as usual. In some of his wanderings about + town, Griffith had met with a modest house, which would have been the very + thing for them if they had possessed about double the income of which they + were at present in receipt. He often met with houses of this kind; they + seemed, in fact, to present themselves to his longing vision every week of + his life; and I think it rather to his credit to mention that he never + failed to describe them to Dolly, and enlarge upon their merits with much + eloquence. Furniture warehouses also were a source of some simple pleasure + to them. <i>If</i> they possessed the income (not that they had the + remotest prospect of possessing it), and rented the house, naturally they + would require furniture, and it was encouraging to know that the necessary + articles might be bought <i>if</i> the money was forthcoming. Consequently + a low-priced table or a cheap sofa was a consolation, if not a source of + rejoicing, and their happiest hours were spent in counting the cost of + parlor carpets never to be purchased, and window curtains of thin air. + They even economized sternly in minor matters, and debated the expenditure + of an extra shilling as closely as if it had been a matter entailing the + deepest anxiety; and on the whole, perhaps, practical persons might have + condemned their affectionate, hopeful weakness as childish and + nonsensical, but they were happy in the indulgence of it, at all events, + and surely they might have been engaged in a less tender and more worldly + pastime. There were other people, perhaps, weak and imprudent themselves + it may be, who would have seen a touch of simple pathos in this + unconsciously shown faith in Fortune and her not too kindly moods. + </p> + <p> + “Old Flynn ought to raise my salary, you know, Dolly,” said Griffith. “I + work hard enough for him, confound him!” somewhat irrelevantly, but with + laudable and not unamiable vigor. He meant no harm to “Old Flynn;” he + would have done a good-natured thing for him at any moment, the mild + expletive was simply the result of adopted custom. “There is n't a fellow + in the place who does as much as I do. I worked from seven in the morning + till midnight every day last week, and I wrote half his editorials for + him, and nobody knows he does n't get them up himself. If he would only + give me two hundred instead of one, just see how we could live.” + </p> + <p> + “We could live on a hundred and fifty,” put in Dolly, with an air of + practical speculation which did her credit, “if we were economical.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say a hundred and fifty, then,” returned Griffith, quite as + seriously, “for we should be economical. Say a hundred and fifty. It would + be nothing to him,—confound him!—but it would be everything in + the world to us. That house in the suburbs was only thirty pounds, taxes + and all, and it was just the very thing we should want if we were + married.” + </p> + <p> + “How many rooms?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Six, and kitchen and cupboards and all that sort of contrivances. I asked + particularly—went to see the landlord to inquire and see what + repairing he would do if we wanted the place. There is a garden of a few + yards in the front, too, and one or two rose-bushes. I don't know whether + they ever bloom, but if they do, you could wear them in your hair. I + thought of that the minute I saw them. The first time I saw you, Dolly, + you had a rose in your hair, and I remember thinking I had never seen a + flower worn in the same way. Other girls do n't wear things as you wear + them somehow or other.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a coaxing, patronizing + little squeeze of his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You think they don't,” she said, “you affectionate old fellow, that is + it. Well, and what did the landlord say? Would he beautify?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I think he would if the matter was pressed,” said Griffith, + returning to the subject with a vigor of enjoyment inspiriting to behold. + “And, by the way, Dolly, I saw a small sofa at a place in town which was + just the right size to fit into a sort of alcove there is in the front + parlor.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you inquire the price?” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—no,” cheerfully; “but I can, if you would like to know it. You + see, I had n't any money, and did n't know when I should have any, and I + felt rather discouraged at the time, and I had an idea the price would + make me feel worse, so I did not go in. But it was a comfortable, plump + little affair, covered with green,—the sort of thing I should like + to have in our house, when we have one. It would be so comfortable to + throw one's self down on to after a hard day's work, particularly if one + had a headache.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly; and then, half unconsciously and quite in spite of + herself, the ghost of a sigh escaped her. She could not help wishing + things were a trifle more real sometimes, bright and whimsically unworldly + as she was. + </p> + <p> + “What did that mean?” Griffith asked her. + </p> + <p> + She wakened up, as it were, and looked as happy as ever in an instant, + creeping a trifle closer to him in her loving anxiety to blind him to the + presence of the little pain in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said, briskly. And then—"We don't want much, do we, + Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Griffith, a certain grim sense of humor getting the better of + him. “And we have n't got it.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed outright at the joke quite enjoyably. Even the grimmest of + jocosities wins its measure of respect in Vagabondia, and besides, her + laugh removed the impression her sigh might have created. She was herself + again at once. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said. (It was always “never mind.”) “Never mind, it will + all come right in the end. Humble merit <i>must</i> be rewarded, and if + humble merit isn't, we can only console ourselves with the reasonable + reflection that there must be something radically wrong with the state of + society. Who knows whether you may not 'get into something,' as Phil says, + which may be twenty times better than anything Old Flynn can give you!” + with characteristic Vagabondian hopefulness. + </p> + <p> + Just at this juncture Phil himself entered, or, rather, half entered, for + he only put his head—a comely, curled head surmounted by a + disreputable velvet cap—half into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are here, are you?” he said. “You are the fellow I want. I am + just touching up something I want to show you. Come into the studio for a + minute or so, Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that picture Mollie sat for,” he explained, as they followed him + into the big, barren room, dignified by the name of studio. “I have just + finished it.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie was standing before the picture herself when they went in to look + at it, but she did not turn round on hearing them. She had Tod in her arms + yet, but she seemed to have forgotten his very existence in her + preoccupation. And it was scarcely to be wondered at. The picture was only + a head,—Mollie's own fresh, drowsy-eyed face standing out in + contrast under some folds of dark drapery thrown over the brown hair like + a monk's cowl, two or three autumn-tinted oak leaves clinging to a + straying tress,—but it was effective and novel enough to be a trifle + startling. And Mollie was looking at it with a growing shadow of pleasure + in her expression. She was slowly awakening to a sense of its beauty, and + she was by no means dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “It is lovely!” Dolly cried out, enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Griffith. “And as like her as art can make it. It's a + success, Phil.” + </p> + <p> + Phil stepped back with a critical air to give it a new inspection. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a success,” he said. “Just give me a chance to get it hung + well, and it will draw a crowd next season. You shall have a new dress if + it does, Mollie, and you shall choose it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie roused herself for a moment, and lighted up. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” she said; and then all at once she blushed in a way that made + Dolly stare at her in some wonder. It seemed queer to think that Mollie—careless + child Mollie—was woman enough to blush over anything. + </p> + <p> + And then Aimée and 'Toinette came in, and looked on and admired just as + openly and heartily as the rest, only Aimée was rather the more reticent + of the two, and cast furtive glances at Mollie now and then. But Mollie + was in a new mood, and had very little to say; and half an hour after, + when her elder sister went into the family sitting-room, she found her + curled up in an easy-chair by the fire, looking reflective. Dolly went to + the hearth and stood near her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking about?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mollie stirred uneasily, and half blushed again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do,” contradicted Dolly, good-naturedly. “Are you thinking that + it is a pleasant sort of a thing to be handsome enough to be made a + picture of, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + The brown eyes met hers with an innocent sort of deprecating + consciousness. “I—I never thought about myself in that way before,” + admitted Mollie, naively. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” returned Dolly, quite sincerely, “you must have looked in the + glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” with a slow shake of the head; “but it did n't look the same way + in the glass,—it did n't look as nice.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly regarded her with a surprise which was not unmingled with + affectionate pity. She was not as unsophisticated as Mollie, and never had + been. As the feminine head of the family, she had acquired a certain + shrewdness early in life, and had taken a place in the household the rest + were hardly equal to. There had been no such awakening as this for her. At + fourteen, she had been fully and complacently conscious of the exact + status of her charms and abilities, physical and mental. She had neither + under-nor over-rated them. She had smiled back at her reflection in her + mirror, showing two rows of little milk-white teeth, and being well enough + satisfied with being a charming young person with a secure complexion and + enviable self-poise. She understood herself, and attained perfection in + the art of understanding others. Her rather sharp experience had not + allowed <i>her</i> to look in the glass in guileless ignorance of what she + saw there, and perhaps this made her all the fonder of Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a dress are you going to choose if Phil buys you one?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Maroon,” answered Mollie. “Oh!” with a little shuddering breath of + desperate delight, “how I wish I could have a maroon silk!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shook her head doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be serviceable, because you could only have the one, and you + could n't wear it on wet days,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I should n't care about its being serviceable,” burst forth innocent + Vagabondia, rebelling against the trammels of prudence. “I want something + pretty. I do so detest serviceable things. I would stay in the house all + the wet days if I might have a maroon silk to wear when it was fine.” + </p> + <p> + “She is beginning to long for purple and fine linen,” sighed Dolly, as she + ran up to her bedroom afterward. “The saints forefend! It is a bad sign. + She will fall in love the next thing. Poor, indiscreet little damsel!” + </p> + <p> + But, despite her sage lamentations, there was even at that moment a plan + maturing in her mind which was an inconsistent mixture of Vagabondia's + goodnature and whim. Mollie's fancy for the maroon silk had struck her as + being artistic, and there was not a Crewe among them who had not a + weakness for the artistic in effect. Tod himself was imaginatively + supposed to share it and exhibit preternatural intelligence upon the + subject. In Dolly it amounted to a passion which she found it impossible + to resist. By it she was prompted to divers small extravagances at times, + and by it she was assisted in the arranging of all her personal + adornments. It was impossible to slight the mental picture of Mollie with + maroon drapery falling about her feet, with her cheeks tinted with excited + color, and with that marvel of delight in her eyes. She could not help + thinking about it. + </p> + <p> + “She would be simply incomparable,” she found herself soliloquizing. “Just + give her that dress, put a white flower in her hair and set her down in a + ballroom, or in the dress circle of a theatre, and she would set the whole + place astir. Oh, she must have it.” + </p> + <p> + It was very foolish and extravagant of course; even the people who are + weakly tolerant enough to rather lean toward Dorothea Crewe, will admit + this. The money that would purchase the maroon garment would have + purchased a dozen minor articles far more necessary to the dilapidated + household; but while straining at such domestic gnats as these articles + were, she was quite willing and even a trifle anxious to swallow Mollie's + gorgeous camel. Such impulsive inconsistency was characteristic, however, + and she betook herself to her bedroom with the intention of working out + the problem of accommodating supply to demand. + </p> + <p> + She took out her purse and emptied its contents on to her dressing-table. + Two or three crushed bills, a scrap or so of poetry presented by Griffith + upon various tender occasions, and a discouragingly small banknote, the + sole remains of her last quarter's salary The supply was not equal to the + demand, it was evident. But she was by no means overpowered. She was + dashed, but not despairing. Of course, she had not expected to launch into + such a reckless piece of expenditure all at once, she had only thought she + might attain her modest ambition in the due course of time, and she + thought so yet. She crammed bills and bank-note back into the purse with + serene cheerfulness and shut it with a little snap of the clasp. + </p> + <p> + “I will begin to save up,” she said, “and I will persuade Phil to help me. + We can surely do it between us, and then we will take her somewhere and + let her have her first experience of modern society. What a sensation she + would create in the camps of the Philistines!” + </p> + <p> + She descended into the kitchen after this, appearing in those lower + regions in the full glory of apron and rolled-up sleeves, greatly to the + delight of the youthful maid-of-all-work, who, being feeble of intellect + and fond of society, regarded the prospect of spending the afternoon with + her as a source of absolute rejoicing. The “Sepoy,” as she was familiarly + designated by the family, was strongly attached to Dolly, as, indeed, she + was to every other member of the household. The truth was, that the + usefulness of the Sepoy (whose baptismal name was Belinda) was rather an + agreeable fiction than a well-established fact. She had been adopted as a + matter of charity, and it was charity rather than any recognized + brilliance of parts which caused her to be retained. Phil had picked her + up on the streets one night in time gone by, and had brought her home + principally because her rags were soaked and she had asserted that she had + nowhere to go for shelter, and partly, it must be confessed, because she + was a curiosity. Having taken her in, nobody was stern enough to turn her + out to face her fate again, and so she stayed. Nobody taught her anything + in particular about household economy, because nobody knew anything + particular to teach her. It was understood that she was to do what she + could, and that what she could not do should be shared among them. She + could fetch and carry, execute small commissions, manage the drudgery and + answer the door-bell, when she was presentable, which was not often; + indeed, this last duty had ceased to devolve upon her, after she had once + confronted Lady Augusta with personal adornments so remarkable as to + strike that august lady dumb and rigid with indignation upon the + threshold, and cause her, when she recovered herself, to stonily, but + irately demand an explanation of the gratuitous insult she considered had + been offered her. Belinda's place was in the kitchen, after this, and to + these regions she usually confined herself, happily vigorous in the + discharge of her daily duties. She was very fond of Dolly, and hailed the + approach of her days of freedom with secret demonstrations of joy. She + hoarded the simple presents of finery given her by that young person with + care, and regarded them in the light of sacred talismans. A subtle + something in her dwarfed, feeble, starved-out nature was stirred, it may + be, by the sight of the girl's life and brightness; and, apart from this, + it would not have been like Dolly Crewe if she had not sympathized, half + unconsciously, half because she was constitutionally sympathetic, with + even this poor stray. If she had been of a more practical turn of mind, in + all probability she would have taken Belinda in hand and attacked the work + of training her with laudable persistence; but, as it was, private + misgivings as to the strength of her own domestic accomplishments caused + her to confine herself to more modest achievements. She could encourage + her, at least, and encourage her she did with divers good-natured speeches + and a leniency of demeanor which took the admiring Sepoy by storm. + </p> + <p> + Saturday became a white day in the eyes of Belinda, because, being a + holiday, it left Dolly at liberty to descend into the kitchen and apply + herself to the study of cookery as a science, with much agreeable bustle + and a pleasant display of high spirit and enjoyment of the novelty of her + position. She had her own innocent reasons for wishing to become a + proficient in the art, and if her efforts were not always crowned with + success, the appearance of her handiwork upon the table on the occasion of + the Sunday's dinner never disturbed the family equilibrium, principally, + perhaps, because the family digestion was unimpaired. They might be + jocose, they had been ironical, but they were never severe, and they + always addressed themselves to the occasionally arduous task of disposing + of the viands with an indifference to consequences which nothing could + disturb. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot possibly be married without knowing something of cookery,” + Dolly had announced oracularly; “and one cannot gain a knowledge of it + without practising, so I am going to practise. None of you are dyspeptic, + thank goodness, so you can stand it. The only risk we run is that Tod + might get hold of a piece of the pastry and be cut off in the bloom of his + youth; but we must keep a strict watch upon him.” + </p> + <p> + And she purchased a cookery book and commenced operations, and held to her + resolve with Spartan firmness, encouraged by private but enthusiastic + bursts of commendation from Griffith, who, finding her out, read the + tender meaning of the fanciful seeming whim, and was so touched thereby + that the mere sight of her in her nonsensical little affectation of + working paraphernalia raised him to a seventh heaven of bliss. + </p> + <p> + When she made her entrance into the kitchen on this occasion, and began to + bustle about in search for her apron, Belinda, who was on her knees + polishing the grate, amidst a formidable display of rags and brushes, + paused to take breath and look at her admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Are yer goin' to make yer pies 'n things, Miss Dolly?” she asked. “Which, + if ye are, yer apern 's in the left 'and dror.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Dolly. “Thank you. Now where is the cookery book?” + </p> + <p> + “Left 'and dror agin,” announced Belinda, with a faint grin. “I allus puts + it there.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Dolly, making industrious search for it, found it, and applied + herself to a deep study of it, resting her white elbows on the dresser, + and looking as if she had been suddenly called upon to master its contents + or be led to the stake. She could not help being intense and in earnest + even over this every-day problem of pies and puddings. + </p> + <p> + “Fricassee?” she murmured. “Fricassee was a failure, so was mock-turtle + soup; it looked discouraging, and the fat <i>would</i> swim about in a way + that attracted attention. Croquettes were not so bad, though they were a + little stringy; but beef <i>à la mode</i> was positively unpleasant. + Jugged hare did very well, but oyster <i>pâtés</i> were dubious. Veal pie + Griffith liked.” + </p> + <p> + “There's somebody a-ringin' at the door-bell,” said Belinda, breaking in + upon her. “He's rung twict, which I can go, mum, if I ain't got no smuts.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly looked up from her book. + </p> + <p> + “Some one is going now, I think,” she said. “I hope it is n't a visitor,” + listening attentively. + </p> + <p> + But it was a visitor, unfortunately. In a few minutes Mollie came in, + studiously perusing a card she held in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ralph,” she proclaimed, coming forward slowly. “Ralph Gowan. It's Lady + Augusta's gentleman, Dolly, and he wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly took the card and looked at it, giving her shoulders a tiny shrug of + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “He has not waited long,” she said; “and it is rather inconvenient, but it + can't be helped. I suppose I shall have to run up-stairs and present him + to Phil.” + </p> + <p> + She untied her apron, drew down her sleeves, settled the bit of ribbon at + her throat, and in three minutes opened the parlor door and greeted her + visitor, looking quite as much in the right place as she had done the + night before in the white merino. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see you,” she said, shaking hands with him, “and I am + sure Phil will be, too. He is always glad to see people, and just now you + will be doubly welcome, because he has a new picture to talk about. Will + you come into the studio, or shall I bring him here? I think it had better + be the studio at once, because you will be sure to drift there in the end,—visitors + always do.” + </p> + <p> + “The studio let it be, if you please,” answered Gowan, wondering, just as + he had done the night before, at the indescribable something in her manner + which was so novel because it was so utterly free from any suggestion of + affectation. It would have been a difficult matter to tell her that he had + not come for any other reason than to see herself again, and yet this + really was the case. + </p> + <p> + But his rather fanciful taste found Phil a novelty also when she led him + into the studio, and presented him to that young man, who was lying upon a + couch with a cigar in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + Phil had something of the same cool friendliness of deportment, and, being + used to the unexpected advent of guests at all hours, was quite ready to + welcome him. He had the same faculty for making noticeable speeches, too, + and was amiable, though languid and <i>débonnaire</i>, and by no means + prone to ceremony. In ten minutes after he had entered the room Ralph + Gowan understood, as by magic, that, little as the world was to these + people, they had, in their Bohemian fashion, learned through sheer tact to + comprehend and tolerate its weaknesses. He examined the pictures on the + walls and in the folios, and now and then found himself roused into + something more than ordinary admiration. But he was disappointed in one + thing. He failed in accomplishing the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + After she had seen that Phil and the paintings occupied his attention to + some extent, Dolly left them. + </p> + <p> + “I was beginning to think about pies and puddings when you came,” she + said, “and I must go back to them. Saturday is the only day Lady Augusta + leaves me, in which to improve in branches of domestic usefulness,” with + an iniquitous imitation of her ladyship's manner. + </p> + <p> + After which she went down to the kitchen again and plunged into culinary + detail with renewed vigor, thinking of the six-roomed house in the + suburbs, and the green sofa which was to fit into the alcove in the front + parlor, growing quite happy over the mental picture, in blissful + unconsciousness of the fact that a train had been that day laid, and that + a spark would be applied that very night through the medium of a simple + observation made by Phil to her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Gowan was here this morning, Grif, and Dolly brought him into the studio. + He's not a bad sort of fellow for a Philistine, and he seems to know + something about pictures. I should n't be surprised if he came again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + </h2> + <p> + THIS was the significant and poetic appellation which at once attached + itself to Ralph Gowan after his first visit to the studio in Bloomsbury + Place, and, as might have been expected, it was a fancy of Dolly's, the + affixing of significant titles being one of her <i>fortes</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The lilies of the field,” she observed, astutely, “are a distinct class. + They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory was + not arrayed like one of these. Yes, my young friends, Mr. Ralph Gowan is a + lily of the field.” + </p> + <p> + And she was not far wrong. Twenty-seven years before Mr. Ralph Gowan had + been presented to an extended circle of admiring friends as the sole heir + to a fortune large enough to have satisfied the ambitions of half a dozen + heirs of moderate aspirations, and from that time forward his lines had + continually fallen in pleasant places. As a boy he had been handsome, + attractive, and thoroughbred, and consequently popular; his good looks + made him a favorite with women, his good fortune with men; his friends + were rather proud of him, and his enemies were powerless against him; he + found it easy to be amiable because no obstacles to amiability lay in his + path; and altogether he regarded existence as a comfortable enough affair. + </p> + <p> + At school his fellows had liked him just as boys as well as men are apt to + like fortunate people; and as he had grown older he had always found + himself a favorite, it may be for something of the same reason. But being, + happily, a gentleman by nature, he had not been much spoiled by the + general adulation. Having been born to it, he carried himself easily + through it, scarcely recognizing the presence of what would have been + patent to men less used to popularity. He was fond of travelling, and so + had amused himself by comfortably arranging uncomfortable journeys and + exploring pleasantly those parts of the earth which to ordinary tourists + would appear unattainable. + </p> + <p> + He was not an ordinary young man, upon the whole, which was evinced by his + making no attempt to write a book of travels, though he might safely have + done so; and really, upon the whole, “lily of the field” though chance had + made him, he was neither useless nor purposeless, and rather deserved his + good luck than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because he was not an ordinary individual that his fancy + was taken by the glimpse he had caught of life in Vagabondia. It was his + first glimpse of the inner workings of such a life, and its novelty + interested him. A girl of twenty-two who received attention and admiration + in an enjoyable, matter-of-fact manner, as if she was used to and neither + over- nor under-valued it, who could make coffee and conversation bearable + and even exciting, who could hold her own against patronage and slights, + and be as piquant and self-possessed at home as in society, who could be + dazzling at night and charming in the morning, was novelty enough in + herself to make Bloomsbury Place attractive, even at its dingiest, and + there were other attractions aside from this one. + </p> + <p> + Phil in the studio, taking life philosophically, and regarding the world + and society in general with sublime and amiable tolerance, was as unique + in his way as Dolly was in hers; his handsome girl-wife, who had come in + to them with her handsome child in her arms, was unique also; Mollie + herself, who had opened the door and quite startled him with the mere + sight of her face,—well, Mollie had impressed him as she impressed + everybody. And he was quite observant enough to see the element of + matter-of-fact, half-jocular affection that bound them one to another; he + could not help seeing it, and it almost touched him. They were not a + sentimental assembly, upon the whole, but they were fond of each other in + a style peculiar to themselves, and ready to unite in any cause which was + the cause of the common weal. The family habit of taking existence easily + and regarding misfortunes from a serenely philosophical standpoint, amused + Ralph Gowan intensely. It had spiced Dolly's conversation, and it spiced + Phil's; indeed, it showed itself in more than words. They had banded + themselves against unavoidable tribulation, and it could not fail to be + beautifully patent to the far-seeing mind that, taking all things + together, tribulation had the worst of it. + </p> + <p> + They were an artistic study, Ralph Gowan found, and so, in his character + of a “lily of the field,” he fell into the habit of studying them, as an + amusement at first, afterwards because his liking for them became friendly + and sincere. + </p> + <p> + It was an easy matter to call again after the first visit,—people + always did call again at Bloomsbury Place, and Ralph Gowan was no + exception to the rule. He met Phil in the city, and sauntered home with + him to discuss art and look at his work; he invited him to first-class + little dinners, and introduced him to one or two men worth knowing; in + short, it was not long before the two were fond of each other in + undemonstrative man fashion. The studio was the sort of place Gowan liked + to drop into when time hung heavily on his hands, and consequently hardly + a week passed without his having at least once or twice dropped into it to + sit among the half dozen of Phil's fellow Bohemians, who were also fond of + dropping in as the young man sat at his easel, sometimes furiously at + work, sometimes tranquilly loitering over the finishing touches of a + picture. They were good-natured, jovial fellows, too, these Bohemian + visitors, though they were more frequently than not highly scented with + the odor of inferior tobacco, and rarely made an ostentatious display in + the matter of costume, or were conspicuously faultless in the matter of + linen; they failed to patronize the hairdresser, and were prone to various + convivialities, but they were neither vicious nor vulgar, and they were + singularly faithful to their friendships for each other. They were all + fond of Phil, and accordingly fraternized at once with his new friend, + adopting him into their circle with the ease of manner and freedom of + sentiment which seemed the characteristic of their class; and they took to + him all the more kindly because, amateur though he was, he shared many of + their enthusiasms. + </p> + <p> + Of course he did not always see Dolly when he went. During every other day + of the week but Saturday she spent her time from nine in the morning until + five in the afternoon in the rather depressing atmosphere of the Bilberry + school-room. She vigorously assaulted the foundations of Lindley Murray, + and attacked the rules of arithmetic; she taught Phemie French, and made + despairing but continuous efforts at “finishing” her in music. But poor + Phemie was not easily “finished,” and hung somewhat heavily upon the hands + of her youthful instructress; still, she was affectionate, if weak-minded, + and so Dolly managed to retain her good spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I believe they are all fond of me in their way,” she said to Griffith,—"all + the children, I mean; and that is something to be thankful for.” + </p> + <p> + “They couldn't help being fond of you,” returned the young man. “Did any + human being ever know you without being fond of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly; “Lady Augusta knows me; and I do not think—no,” + with a cheerfully resigned shake of the head, which did not exactly + express deep regret or contrition, “I really do not think Lady Augusta is + what you might call overwhelmed with the strength of her attachment for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Augusta!” said Griffith. “Confound Lady Augusta!” + </p> + <p> + Griffith was one of the very few people who did not like Ralph Gowan, and + perhaps charitably inclined persons will be half inclined to excuse his + weakness. It was rather trying, it must be admitted, for a desponding + young man rather under stress of weather, so to speak, to find himself + thrown into sharp contrast with an individual who had sailed in smooth + waters all his life, and to whom a ripple would have been a by no means + unpleasant excitement; it was rather chafing to constantly encounter this + favorite of fortune in the best of humors, because he had nothing to + irritate him; thoroughbred, unruffled, and <i>débonnaire</i> because he + had nothing of pain or privation to face; handsome, well dressed, and at + ease, because his income and his tastes balanced against each other + accommodatingly. Human nature rose up and battled in the Vagabondian + breast; there were times when, for the privilege of administering severe + corporeal chastisement to Ralph Gowan, Griffith would have sacrificed his + modest salary with a Christian fortitude and resignation beautiful to + behold. To see him sitting in one of the faded padded chairs, roused all + his ire, and his consciousness of his own weakness made the matter worse; + to see him talking to Dolly, and see her making brisk little jokes for his + amusement, was worse still, and drove him so frantic that more than once + he had turned quite pale in his secret frenzy of despair and jealousy, and + had quite frightened the girl, though he was wise enough to keep his + secret to himself. It was plain enough that Gowan admired Dolly, but other + men had admired her before; the sting of it was that this fellow, with his + cool airs and graces and tantalizing repose of manner, had no need to hold + back if he could win her. There would be no need for him to plan and pinch + and despair; no need for faltering over odd shillings and calculating odd + pence; <i>he</i> could marry her in an hour if she cared for him, and he + could surround her with luxuries, and dress her like a queen, and make her + happy, as she deserved to be. And then the poor fellow's heart would beat + fiercely, and the very blood would tremble in his veins, at the mere + thought of giving her up. + </p> + <p> + One night after they had been sitting together, and Gowan had just left + the room with Phil, Dolly glanced up from her work and saw her lover + looking at her with a face so pale and wretched that she was thrown into a + passion of fear. + </p> + <p> + She tossed her work away in a second, and, making one of her little rushes + at him, was caught in his arms and half suffocated. She knew the instant + she caught sight of his face what he was suffering, though perhaps she did + not know the worst. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why will you?” she cried out, in tears, all at once. “It is cruel! + You are as pale as death, and I know—I know so well what it means.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me you will never forget what we have been to each other,” he said, + when he could speak; “tell me you don't care for that fellow,—tell + me you love me, Dolly, tell me you love me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not hesitate a moment; she had never flirted with Griffith in her + life, and she knew him too well to try him when he wore that desperate, + feverish look of longing in his eyes. She burst into an impetuous sob, and + clung to him with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I love you with all my soul,” she said. “I will never <i>let</i> you give + me up; and as to forgetting, I might die, but I could never forget. Care + for Ralph Gowan! I love <i>you</i>, Griffith, I love <i>you!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't regret?” he said, piteously. “Oh, Dolly, just think of what + <i>he</i> could give you; and then think of our hopeless dreams about + miserable six-roomed houses and cheap furniture.” + </p> + <p> + “You will make me hate him,” cried Dolly, her gust of love and pity making + her fierce. “I don't want anything anybody could give me. I only want you, + <i>dear</i> old fellow,—<i>darling</i> old fellow,” holding him + fast, as if she would never let him go, and shedding a shower of + impassioned, tender tears. “Oh, my darling, only wait until I am your own + wife, and see how happy I will be, and how happy I will make you,—for + I <i>can</i> make you happy,—and see how I will work in our little + home for your sake, and how content I will be with a little. Oh, what must + I do to show you how I love you! Do you think I could have cared for Ralph + Gowan all these years as I have cared for you? No indeed; but I shall care + for you forever, and I would wait for you a <i>thousand</i> years if I + might only be your wife, and die in your arms at the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + And she believed every word she said, too, and would have been willing to + lay down her young life to prove it, extravagant as it may all sound to + the discreet. And she quite believed, too, that she could never have so + loved any other man than this unlucky, jealous, tempestuous one; but I + will take the liberty of saying that this was a mistake, for, being an + impassioned, heart-ruled, unworldly young person, it is quite likely that + if Ralph Gowan had stood in Mr. Griffith Donne's not exactly water-tight + shoes, she would have clung to him quite as faithfully, and believed in + his perfections quite as implicitly, and quite as scornfully would have + depreciated the merits of his rival; but chance had arranged the matter + for her years before, and so Mr. Griffith was the hero. + </p> + <p> + “Ralph Gowan!” she flung out. “What is Ralph Gowan, or any other man on + earth, to me? Did I love <i>him</i> before I knew what love was, and + scarcely understood my own heart? Did I grow into a woman loving <i>him</i> + and clinging to <i>him</i> and dreaming about him? Have I ever had any + troubles in common with <i>him</i>? Did we grow up together, and tell each + other all our thoughts and help each other to bear things? Let him travel + in the East, if he likes,"—with high and rather inconsistent + disdain,—"and let him have ten thousand a year, if he will,—a + hundred thousand millions a year wouldn't buy me from you—my own!” + In another burst, “Let him ride in his carriage, if he chooses,"—rather, + as if such a course would imply the most degraded weakness; but, as I have + said before, she was illogical, if affectionate,—"let him ride in + his carriage. I would rather walk barefoot through the world with you than + ride in a hundred carriages, if every one of them was lined with diamonds + and studded with pearls.” + </p> + <p> + There was the true flavor of Vagabondia's indiscretion and want of + forethought in this, I grant you; but such speeches as these were Dolly + Crewe's mode of comforting her lover in his dark moods; at least, she was + sincere,—and sincerity will excuse many touches of extravagance. And + as to Griffith, every touch of loving, foolish rhapsody dropped upon his + heart like dew from heaven, filling him with rapture and drawing him + nearer to her than before. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he objected,—a rather weak objection, offered rather weakly, + because he was so full of renewed confidence and bliss,—"but he is a + handsomer fellow than I am, Dolly, and it must be confessed he has good + taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Handsomer!” echoed Dolly. “What do I care about his beauty? He is n't <i>you</i>,—that + is where he fails to come up to the mark. And as to his good taste, do you + suppose for a second that I could ever admire the most imposing 'get-up' + by Poole, as I love this threadbare coat of yours, that I have laid my + cheek against for the last three years?” And she bent down all at once and + kissed the shabby sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, looking up the next minute with her eyes as bright as + stars. “We have been <i>given</i> to each other, that is it. It was n't + chance, it was something higher. We needed each other, and a higher power + than Fate bound us together, and it was a power that is n't cruel enough + to separate us now, after all these years have woven our lives in one + chord, and drawn our hearts close, and taught us how to comfort and bear + with each other. I was given to you because I could help to make your life + brighter,—and you were given to me because you could help to + brighten mine, and God will never part us so long as we are true.” + </p> + <p> + The coat sleeve came into requisition again then, as it often did. Her + enthusiastic burst ended in a gush of heart-full tears, and she hid her + face on the coat sleeve until they were shed; Griffith in the mean time + touching her partly bent head caressingly with his hand, but remaining + silent because he could not trust himself to speak. + </p> + <p> + But she became quieter at last, and got over it so far as to look up and + smile. + </p> + <p> + “I could n't give up the six-roomed house and the green sofa, Griffith,” + she said. “They are like a great many other things,—the more I don't + get them the more I want them. And the long winter evenings we are to + spend together, when you are to read and I am to sew, and we are both to + be blissfully happy. I could n't give those up on any account. And how + could I bear to see Ralph Gowan, or any one else, seated in the orthodox + arm-chair?” + </p> + <p> + The very idea of this latter calamity occurring crushed Griffith + completely. The long winter evenings they were to spend together were such + a pleasant legend. Scarcely a day passed without his drawing a mental + picture of the room which was to be their parlor, and of the fireside + Dolly was to adorn. It required only a slight effort of imagination to + picture her shining in the tiny room whose door closed upon an outside + world of struggling and an inside world of love and hope and trust. He + imagined Dolly under a variety of circumstances, but nothing pleased and + touched him so tenderly as this fireside picture,—its ideal warmth + and glow, and its poetic placing of Dolly as his wife sitting near to him + with her smiles and winsome ways and looks—his own, at last, + unshared by any outsiders. Giving that long-cherished fancy up would have + killed him, if he could have borne all the rest. And while these two + experienced the recorded fluctuations of their romance in private, Ralph + Gowan had followed Phil into the studio. + </p> + <p> + They found Mollie there on going into the room; and Mollie lying upon the + sofa asleep, with her brown head upon a big soft purple cushion, was quite + worthy a second glance. She had been rather overpowered in the parlor by + the presence of Ralph Gowan, and, knowing there was a fire in the studio, + and a couch drawn near it, she had retired there, and, appropriating a + pile of cushions, had dropped asleep, and lay there curled up among them. + </p> + <p> + Seeing her, Gowan found himself smiling faintly. Mollie amused him just as + she amused Dolly. It was so difficult a matter to assign her any settled + position in the world; She was taller than the other girls, and far larger + and more statuesque; indeed, there were moments when she seemed to be + almost imposing in presence, but this only rendered her still more a + charming incongruity. She might have carried herself like a royal + princess, but she blushed up to the tips of her ears at a glance, and was + otherwise as innocently awkward as a beauty may be. She was not fond of + strangers either, and generally lapsed into silence when spoken to. Public + admiration only disconcerted her, and made her pout, and the unceremonious + but friendly compliments of Phil's brethren in art were her special + grievance. + </p> + <p> + “They stare at me, and stare at me, and stare at me,” she complained, + pettishly, to Dolly, “and some of them say things to me. I wish they would + attend to their pictures and leave me alone.” + </p> + <p> + But she had never evinced any particular dislike to Ralph Gowan. She was + overpowered by a secret sense of his vast superiority to the generality of + mankind, but she rather admired him upon the whole. She liked to hear him + talk to Dolly, and she approved of his style. It was such a novel sort of + thing to meet with a man who was not shabby, and whose clothes seemed made + for him and were worn with a grace. He was handsome, too, and witty and + polite, and his cool, comfortable manner reminded her vaguely of Dolly's + own. So she used to sit and listen to the two as they chatted, and in the + end her guileless admiration of Dolly's eligible Philistine became pretty + thoroughly established. + </p> + <p> + When the sound of advancing footsteps roused her from her nap she woke + with great tranquillity, and sat up rubbing her drowsy eyes serenely for a + minute or so before she discovered that Phil had a companion. But when she + did discover that such was the fact she blushed all over, and looked up at + Ralph Gowan in some naïve distress. + </p> + <p> + “I did n't know any one was coming,” she said, “and I was so comfortable + that I fell asleep. It was the cushions, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it was,” answered Gowan, regarding her sleep-flushed cheeks + and exquisite eyes with the pleasure he always felt in any beauty, animate + or inanimate. “May I sit here, Mollie?” and then he looked at her again + and decided that he was quite right in speaking to her as he would have + spoken to a child, because she <i>was</i> such a very child. + </p> + <p> + “By me, on the sofa?” she answered. “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to talk business with Phil?” she asked him next, “or may I + stay here? Griffith and Dolly won't want me in the parlor, and I don't + want to go into the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt you may stay here,” he said, quite seriously; “but why + won't they want you in the parlor?” + </p> + <p> + “They never want anybody,” astutely. “I dare say they are making love,—they + generally are.” + </p> + <p> + “Making love,” he repeated. “Ah, indeed!” and for the next few minutes was + so absorbed in thought that Mollie was quite forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Making love were they,—this shabby, rather un-amiable young man and + the elder Miss Crewe? It sounded rather like nonsense to Ralph Gowan, but + it was not a pleasant sort of thing to think about. It is not to be + supposed that he himself was very desperately in love with Dolly just yet, + but it must be admitted he admired her decidedly. Beauty as Mollie was, he + scarcely gave her a glance when Dolly was in the room,—he recognized + the beauty, but it did not enslave him, it did not even attract him as + Dolly's imperfect charms did. And perhaps he had his own ideas of what + Dolly's love-making would be, of the spice and variety which would form + its characteristics, and of the little bursts of warmth and affection that + would render it delightful. It was not soothing to think of all this being + lavished on a shabby young man who was not always urbane in demeanor and + who stubbornly objected to being propitiated by politeness. + </p> + <p> + As was very natural, Mr. Ralph Gowan did not admire Mr. Griffith Donne + enthusiastically. In his visits to Bloomsbury Place, finding an + ill-dressed young man whose position in the household he could not + understand, he began by treating him with good-natured suavity, being + ready enough to make friends with him, as he had made friends with the + rest of Phil's compatriots. But influenced by objections to certain + things, Griffith was not to be treated suavely, but rather resented it. + There was no good reason for his resenting it, but resent it he did, as + openly as he could, without being an absolute savage and attracting + attention. The weakness of such a line of conduct is glaringly patent, of + course, to the well-regulated mind; but then Mr. Griffith Donne's mind was + not well-regulated, and he was, on the contrary, a very hot-headed, + undisciplined young man, and exceedingly sensitive to his own misfortunes + and shabbiness, and infatuated in his passion for the object of his + enemy's admiration. But Ralph Gowan could afford to be tolerant; in the + matter of position he was secure, he had never been slighted or patronized + in his life, and so had no shrinkings from such an ordeal; he was not + disturbed by any bitter pang of jealousy as yet, and so, while he could + not understand Griffith's restless anxiety to resent his presence, could + still tolerate it and keep cool. Yet, as might be expected, he rather + underrated his antagonist. Seeing him only in this one unfavorable light, + he regarded him simply as a rather ill-bred, or, at least, aggressively + inclined individual, whose temper and tone of mind might reasonably be + objected to. Once or twice he had even felt his own blood rise at some + implied ignoring of himself; but he was far the more urbane and + well-disposed of the two, yet whether he was to be highly lauded for his + forbearance, or whether, while lauding him, it would not be as well to + think as well as possible of his enemy, is a matter for charity to decide. + </p> + <p> + It had not occurred to him before that Griffith's frequent and + unceremonious visits implied anything very serious. There were so many + free-and-easy visitors at the house, and they all so plainly cultivated + Dolly, if they did not make actual love to her; and really outsiders would + hardly have been impressed with her deportment toward her betrothed. She + was not prone to exhibit her preference sentimentally in public. So Ralph + Gowan had been deceived,—and so he was deceived still. + </p> + <p> + “This sort of fellow,” as he mentally put it with unconscious + high-handedness, was not the man to make such a woman happy, however ready + she was to bear with him. It was just such men as he was, who, when the + novelty of possession wore off, deteriorated into tyrannical, irritable + husbands, and were not too well bred in their manners. So he became + reflective and silent, when Mollie said that the two were “making love.” + </p> + <p> + But at last it occurred to him that even to Mollie his preoccupation might + appear singular, and he roused himself accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “Making love!” he said again. “Blissful occupation! I wonder how they do + it. Do you know, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie looked at him with a freedom from scruples or embarrassment at the + conversation taking such a turn, which told its own story. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “They talk, you know, and say things to each other just + as other people do, and he kisses her sometimes. I know that,” with a + decided air, “because I have seen him do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cool enough, that, upon my word,” was her questioner's mental comment, + “and not unpleasant for Donne; but hardly significant of a fastidious + taste, if it is a public exhibition.” “Ah, indeed!” he said, aloud. + </p> + <p> + “They have been engaged so long, you know,” volunteered Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Singularly enough, I did not know, Mollie,” he replied. “Are you sure + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her eyes. “I thought everybody knew + that. They have been engaged ever since they were ever so much younger. + Dolly was only fifteen, and Griffith was only eighteen, when they first + fell in love.” + </p> + <p> + “And they have been engaged ever since?” said Gowan, his curiosity getting + decidedly the better of him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and would have been married long ago, if Griffith could have got + into something; or if Old Flynn would have raised his salary. He has only + a hundred a year,” with unabashed frankness, “and, of course, they + couldn't be married on that, so they are obliged to wait. A hundred and + fifty would do, Dolly says,—but then, they have n't got a hundred + and fifty.” + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan was meanly conscious of not being overpowered with regret on + hearing this latter statement of facts. And yet he was by no means devoid + of generous impulse. He was quite honest, however deeply he might be + mistaken, in deciding that it would be an unfortunate thing for Dolly if + she married Griffith Donne. He thought he was right, and certainly if + there had been no more good in his rival than he himself had seen on the + surface, he would not have been far wrong; but as it was he was + unconsciously very far wrong indeed. He ran into the almost excusable + extreme of condemning Griffith upon circumstantial evidence. Unfair + advantage had been taken of Dolly, he told himself. She had engaged + herself before she knew her own heart, and was true to her lover because + it was not in her nature to be false. Besides, what right has a man with a + hundred a year to bind any woman to the prospect of the life of narrow + economies and privations such an income would necessarily entail? And + forthwith his admiration of Dolly became touched with pity, and increased + fourfold. <i>She</i> was unselfish, at least, whatever her affianced might + be. Poor little soul! (It is a circumstance worthy of note, because + illustrative of the blindness of human nature, that at this very moment + Miss Dorothea Crewe was enjoying her quiet <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her + lover wondrously, and would not have changed places with any young lady in + the kingdom upon any consideration whatever.) + </p> + <p> + It is not at all to be wondered at that, in the absence of other + entertainment, Gowan drifted into a confidential chat with Mollie. She was + the sort of girl few people could have remained entirely indifferent to. + Her <i>naïveté</i> was as novel as her beauty, and her weakness, so to + speak, was her strength. Gowan found it so at least, but still it must be + confessed that Dolly was the chief subject of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You are very fond of your sister?” he said to the child. + </p> + <p> + Mollie nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I am very fond of her. We are all very fond of her. + Dolly 's the clever one of the family, next to Phil. She is n't afraid of + anybody, and things don't upset her. I wish I was like her. You ought to + see her talk to Lady Augusta, I believe she is the only person in the + world Lady Augusta can't patronize, and she is always trying to snub her + just because she is so cool. But it never troubles Dolly. I have seen her + sit and smile and talk in her quiet way until Lady Augusta could do + nothing but sit still and stare at her as if she was choked, with her + bonnet strings actually trembling.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan laughed. He could imagine the effect produced so well, and it was so + easy to picture Dolly smiling up in the face of her gaunt patroness, and + all the time favoring her with a shower of beautiful little stabs, + rendered pointed by the very essence of artfulness. He decided that upon + the whole Lady Augusta was somewhat to be pitied. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly says,” proceeded Mollie, “that she would like to be a beauty; but + if I was like her I should n't care about being a beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Gowan, unable to resist the temptation to try with a fine + speech,—"ah! it is all very well for <i>you</i> to talk about not + caring to be a beauty.” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to him for an instant that it was indiscreet to say such + a thing to her. He only meant it for a jest, and nine girls out of ten + even at sixteen would have understood his languid air of grandiloquence in + an instant. But Mollie at sixteen was extremely liberal-minded, and almost + Arcadian in her simplicity of thought and demeanor. + </p> + <p> + Her brown eyes flew wide open, and for a minute she stared at him with + mingled amazement and questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Me!” she said, ignoring all given rules of propriety of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you,” answered Gowan, smiling, and looking down at her amusedly. “I + have been paying you a compliment, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mollie, bewilderment settling on her face. But the next instant + the blood rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes fell, and she moved a little + farther away from him. + </p> + <p> + It was the first compliment she had received in all her life, and it was + the beginning of an era. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + </h2> + <p> + “We are going,” Dolly to Ralph Gowan, “to have a family rejoicing, and we + should like you to join us. We are going to celebrate Mollie's birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he answered, “I shall be delighted.” He had heard of these + family rejoicings before, and was really pleased with the idea of + attending one of them. They were strictly Vagabondian, which was one + recommendation, and they were entirely free from the Bilberry element, + which was another. They were not grand affairs, it is true, and set + etiquette and the rules of society at open defiance, but they were + cheerful, at least, and nobody attended them who had not previously + resolved upon enjoying himself and taking kindly to even the most + unexpected state of affairs. At Bloomsbury Place, Lady Augusta's “coffee + and conversation” became “conversation and coffee,” and the conversation + came as naturally as the coffee. People who had jokes to make made them, + and people who had not were exhilarated by the <i>bon-mots</i> of the + rest. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie will be seventeen,” said Dolly, “and it is rather a trial to me.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head gravely. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” she answered, “it makes me feel as if the dust of + ages was accumulating in my pathway, and in the second, it is not safe for + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, again?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “She is far too pretty, and her knowledge of the world is far too limited. + She secretly believes in Lord Burleigh, and clings to the poetic memory of + King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do not?” + </p> + <p> + She held up her small forefinger and shook it at him. + </p> + <p> + “If ever there was an artful little minx,” she said, “that Beggar-maid was + one. I never believed in her. I doubted her before I was twelve. With her + eyes cast down and her sly tricks! She did not cast them down for nothing. + She did it because she had long eyelashes, and it was becoming. And it is + my impression she knew more about the king than she professed to. She had + studied his character and found it weak. Beggar-maid me no beggar-maids! + She was as deep as she was handsome.” + </p> + <p> + Of course he laughed again. Her air of severe worldly experience and that + small warning forefinger were irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “But Mollie,” he said, “with all her belief in Cophetua, you think there + is not enough of the beggar-maid element in her character to sustain her + under like circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “If she met a Cophetua,” she answered, “she would open her great eyes at + his royal purple in positive delight, and if he caught her looking at him + she would blush furiously and pout a little, and be so ashamed of her + weakness that she would be ready to run away; but if he was artful enough + to manage her aright, she would believe every word he said, and romance + about him until her head was turned upside down. My fear is that some + false Cophetua will masquerade for her benefit some day. She would never + doubt his veracity, and if he asked her to run away with him I believe she + would enjoy the idea. We shall have to keep sharp watch upon her.” + </p> + <p> + “You never were so troubled about Aimée?” Gowan suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée!” she exclaimed. “Aimée has kept us all in order, and managed our + affairs for us ever since she wore Berlin wool boots and a coral necklace. + She regulated the household in her earliest years, and will regulate it + until she dies or somebody marries her, and what we are to do then our + lares and pénates only know. Aimée! Nobody ever had any trouble with + Aimée, and nobody ever will. Mollie is more like me, you see,—shares + my weaknesses and minor sins, and always sees her indiscretions ten + minutes too late for redemption. And then, since she is the youngest, and + has been the baby so long, we have not been in the habit of regarding her + as a responsible being exactly. It has struck me once or twice that + Bloomsbury Place hardly afforded wise training to Mollie. Poor little + soul!” And a faint shadow fell upon her face and rested there for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + But it faded out again as her fits of gravity usually did, and in a few + minutes she was giving him such a description of Lady Augusta's unexpected + appearance upon a like occasion in time past, that he laughed until the + room echoed, and forgot everything else but the audacious grotesqueness of + her mimicry. + </p> + <p> + It being agreed upon that Mollie's birthday was to be celebrated, the + whole household was plunged into preparations at once, though, of course, + they were preparations upon a small scale and of a strictly private and + domestic nature. Belinda, being promptly attacked with inflammation of the + throat, which was a chronic weakness of hers, was rather inconveniently, + but not at all to the surprise of her employers, incapacitated from + service, and accordingly Dolly's duties became varied and multitudinous. + </p> + <p> + Sudden inflammation on the part of Belinda was so unavoidable a + consequence of any approaching demand upon her services as to have become + proverbial, and the swelling of that young person's “tornsuls,” as she + termed them, was anticipated as might be anticipated the rising of the + sun. Not that it was Belinda's fault, however; Belinda's anxiety to be + useful amounted at all times to something very nearly approaching a + monomania; the fact simply was, that, her ailment being chronic, it + usually evinced itself at inopportune periods. “It's the luck of the + family,” said Phil. “We never loved a tree or flower, etc.” + </p> + <p> + And so Belinda was accepted as an unavoidable inconvenience, and was borne + with cheerfully, accordingly. + </p> + <p> + It was not expected of her that she should appear otherwise on the + eventful day than with the regulation roll of flannel about her neck. + Dolly did not expect it of her at least, so she was not surprised, on + entering the kitchen in the morning, to be accosted by her grimy young + handmaiden in the usual form of announcement:— + </p> + <p> + “Which, if yer please, miss, my tornsuls is swole most awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they?” said Dolly. “Well, I am very sorry, Belinda. It can't be + helped, though; Mollie will have to run the errands and answer the + door-bell, and you must stay with me and keep out of the draught. You can + help a little, I dare say, if you are obliged to stay in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'm,” said Belinda, and then sidling up to the dresser, and rubbing + her nose in an abasement of spirit, which resulted in divers startling + adornments of that already rather highly ornamented feature. “If yer + please, 'm,” she said, “I 'm very sorry, Miss Dolly. Seems like I ain't + never o' no use to yer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are,” said Dolly, cheerily, “and you can't help the sore throat, + you know. You are a great deal of use to me sometimes. See how you save my + hands from being spoiled; they would n't be as white as they are if I had + to polish the grates and build the fires. Never mind, you will be better + in a day or so. Now for the cookery-book.” + </p> + <p> + “I never seen no one like her,” muttered the delighted Sepoy, returning to + her vigorous cleaning of kettles and pans. “I never seen no one like none + on 'em, they 're that there good-natured an' easy on folk.” + </p> + <p> + It was a busy day for Dolly, as well as for the rest of them, and there + was a by no means unpleasant excitement in the atmosphere of business. The + cookery, too, was a success, the game pâtés being a triumph, the tarts + beautiful to behold, and the rest of the culinary experiments so + marvellous, that Griffith, arriving early in the morning, and being led + down into the pantry to look at them as a preliminary ceremony, professed + to be struck dumb with admiration. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Dolly, backing up against the wall in her excitement, and + thrusting her hands very far into her apron pockets indeed,—"there! + what do you think of <i>that</i>, sir?” And she stood before him in a + perfect glow of triumph, her cheeks like roses, her sleeves rolled above + her dimpled elbows, her hair pushed on her forehead, and her general + appearance so deliciously business-like and agreeably professional that + the dusts of flour that were so prominent a feature in her costume seemed + only an additional charm. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it?” said Griffith. “It is the most imposing display I ever saw + in my life. The trimmings upon those tarts are positively artistic. You + don't mean to say you did it all yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” regarding them critically,—"ev-er-y bit,” with a little nod + for every syllable. + </p> + <p> + “Won-der-ful!” with an air of complimentary incredulity. “May I ask if + there is anything you can <i>not</i> do?” + </p> + <p> + “There is absolutely nothing,” sententiously. And then somehow or other + they were standing close together, as usual, his arm around her waist, her + hands clasped upon his sleeve. “When we get the house in Putney, or + Bayswater, or Peckham Eise, or whatever it is to be,” she said, laughing + in her most coaxing way, “this sort of thing will be convenient. And it <i>is</i> + to come, you know,—the house, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted Griffith, with dubious cheerfulness, “it <i>is</i> to + come,—some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + But her cheerfulness was not of a dubious kind at all. She only laughed + again, and patted his arm with a charming air of proprietorship. + </p> + <p> + “I have got something else to show you,” she said; “something up-stairs. + Can you guess what it is? Something for Mollie,—something she wanted + which is dreadfully extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Griffith. “Not the maroon silk affair!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” her doubt as to the wisdom of her course expressing itself in a + whimsical little grimace. “I could n't help it. It will make her so happy; + and I should so have liked it myself if I had been in her place.” + </p> + <p> + She had been going to lead him up-stairs to show it to him as it lay in + state, locked up in the parlor, but all at once she changed her mind. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said; “I think you had better not see it until Mollie comes down + in state. It will look best then; so I won't spoil the effect by letting + you see it now.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith had brought his offering, too,—not much of an offering, + perhaps, but worth a good deal when valued according to the affectionate + good-will it represented. “The girls” had a very warm corner in the young + man's tender heart, and the half-dozen pairs of gloves he produced from + the shades of an inconvenient pocket of his great-coat, held their own + modest significance. + </p> + <p> + “Gloves,” he said, half apologetically, “always come in; and I believe I + heard Mollie complaining of hers the other day.” + </p> + <p> + Certainly they were appreciated by the young lady in question, their + timely appearance disposing of a slight difficulty of addition to her + toilet. + </p> + <p> + The maroon silk was to be a surprise; and surely, if ever surprise was a + success, this was. Taking into consideration the fact that she had spent + the earlier part of the day in plaintive efforts to remodel a dubious + garment into a form fitting to grace the occasion, it is not to be + wondered at that the sudden realization of one of her most hopelessly + vivid imaginings rather destroyed the perfect balance of her equilibrium. + </p> + <p> + She had almost completed her toilet when Dolly produced her treasure; + nothing, in fact, remained to be done but to don the dubious garment, when + Dolly, slipping out of the room, returned almost immediately with + something on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind your old alpaca, Mollie,” she said. “I have something better + for you here.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie turned round in some wonder to see what she meant, and the next + minute she turned red and pale with admiring amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, rather unnecessarily, “it's a maroon silk.” And she sat + down with her hands clasped, and stared at it in the intensity of her + wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, “it is a maroon silk, and you are to wear it to-night. + It is Phil's birthday present to you,—and mine.” + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken at once. The girl got up and made an impulsive rush + at her, and, flinging her bare white arms out, caught her in a tempestuous + embrace, maroon silk and all, laughing and crying both together. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said,—"Dolly, it is the grandest thing I ever had in my + life, and you are the best two—you and Phil—that ever lived!” + And not being as eloquent by nature as she was grateful and affectionate, + she poured out the rest of her thanks in kisses and interjections. + </p> + <p> + Then Dolly, extricating herself, proceeded to add the final touches to the + unfinished toilet, and in a very few minutes Miss Mollie stood before the + glass regarding herself in such ecstatic content as she had perhaps never + before experienced. + </p> + <p> + “Who is going to be here, Dolly?” she asked, after taking her first + survey. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said Dolly. “Well, I scarcely know. Only one or two of Phil's + friends and Ralph Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie gave a little start, and then blushed in the most pathetically + helpless way. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, and looked at her reflection in the glass again, as if she + did not exactly know what else to do. + </p> + <p> + A swift shadow of surprise showed itself in Dolly's eyes, and died out + almost at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” she said, briefly. “If you are, we will go down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + There was a simultaneous cry of admiration from them all when the two + entered the parlor below, and Miss Mollie appeared attired in all her + glory. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is!” exclaimed 'Toinetté and Aimée, together. + </p> + <p> + “Just the right shade,” was Phil's immediate comment. “Catches the lights + and throws out her coloring so finely. Turn round, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + And Mollie turned round obediently, a trifle abashed by her own + gorgeousness, and looking all the lovelier for her momentary abasement. + </p> + <p> + Griffith was delighted. He went to her and kissed her, and praised her + with the enthusiastic frankness which characterized all his proceedings + with regard to the different members of the family of his betrothed. He + was as proud of the girl's beauty as if she were a sister of his own. + </p> + <p> + Then the object of their mutual admiration knelt down upon the hearth-rug, + before Tod, who, attired in ephemeral splendor, had stopped in his tour + across the room to stare up with bright baby wonder at the novelty of + warm, rich color which had caught his fancy. + </p> + <p> + “I must kiss Tod,” she said; no ceremony was ever considered complete, and + no occasion perfect, unless Tod had been kissed, and so taken into the + general confidence. “Tod, come and be kissed.” + </p> + <p> + But, being a young gentleman of by no means effusive nature, Tod preferred + to remain stationary, holding to the toe of his red shoe and gazing upward + with an expression of approbation and indifference commingled, which + delighted his feminine admirers beyond expression. + </p> + <p> + “He knows it is something new,” said 'Toinette. “See how he looks at it.” + Whereupon, of course, there was a chorus of delighted acquiescence, and + Aunt Dolly must needs go down upon the hearthrug, too. + </p> + <p> + “Has Aunt Mollie got a grand new dress on, Beauty?” she said, glowing with + such pretty, womanly adoration of this atom of all-ruling baby-dom, as + made her seem the very cream and essence of lovableness and sweet + nonsense. And then, Master Tod, still remaining unmoved by adulation, and + still regarding his small circle of tender sycophants with round, liquid, + baby eyes serene, and dewy red lips apart, was so effective in this one of + his many entrancing moods, that he was no longer to be resisted, and so + was caught up and embraced with ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “He notices everything,” cries Aunt Dolly; “and I 'm sure he understands + every word he hears. He is <i>so</i> different from other babies.” + </p> + <p> + Different! Of course he was different. There was not one of them but + indignantly scouted at the idea of there ever having before existed such a + combination of infantile gifts and graces. The most obtuse of people could + not fail to acknowledge his vast superiority, in spite of their + obtuseness. + </p> + <p> + “But,” remarked Aimée, with discretion, “you had better stand up, Mollie, + or you will crush your front breadths." + </p> + <p> + Mollie, with a saving recollection of front breadths, arose, and as it + chanced just in time to turn toward the door as Ralph Gowan came in. + </p> + <p> + He was looking his best to-night,—that enviable, thorough-bred best, + which was the natural result of culture, money, and ease; and Dolly, + catching sight of Mollie's guileless blushes, deplored, while she did not + wonder at them, understanding her as she did. It was just like the child + to blush, feeling herself the centre of observation, but she could not + help wishing that her blush had not been quite so quick and sensitive. + </p> + <p> + But if she had flushed when he entered, she flushed far more when he came + to speak to her. He held in his hand a bouquet of flowers,—white + camellia buds and bloom, and dark, shadowy green; a whim of his own, he + said. + </p> + <p> + “I heard about the maroon dress,” he added, when he had given it to her, + “and my choice of your flowers was guided accordingly. White camellias, + worn with maroon sik, are artistic, Mollie, your brother will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “They are very pretty,” said Mollie, looking down at them in grateful + confusion; “and I am much obliged. Thank you, Mr. Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + “A great many good wishes go with them,” he said, good-naturedly. “If I + were an enchanter, you should never grow any older from this day forward.” + And his speech was something more than an idle compliment. There was + something touching to him, too, in the fact of the child's leaving her + childhood behind her, and confronting so ignorantly the unconscious dawn + of a womanhood which might hold so much of the bitterness of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, Mollie did not understand this. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked him, forgetting her camellias, in her wonder at his + fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said he. “Because seventeen is such a charming age, Mollie; and it + would be well for so many of us if we did not outlive its faith and + freshness.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed over to Dolly then, and made his well-turned speech of friendly + greeting to her also, but his most ordinary speech to her had its own + subtle warmth. He was growing very fond of Dolly Crewe. But Dolly was a + trifle preoccupied; she was looking almost anxiously at Mollie and the + camellias. + </p> + <p> + “He has been paying her a compliment or she would not look so fluttered + and happy,” she was saying to herself. “I wish he wouldn't. It may please + him, but it is dangerous work for Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + And when she raised her eyes to meet Ralph Gowan's, he saw that there was + the ghost of a regretful shadow in them. + </p> + <p> + She had too much to do, however, to be troubled long. Phil's friends began + to drop in, one by one, and the business of the evening occupied her + attention. There was coffee to be handed round, and she stood at a + side-table and poured it out herself into quaint cups of old china, which + were a relic of former grandeur; and as she moved to and fro, bringing one + of these cups to one, or a plate of fantastic little cakes to another, and + flavoring the whole repast with her running fire of spicy speeches, Gowan + found himself following her with his eyes and rather extravagantly + comparing her to ambrosia-bearing Hebe, at the same time thinking that in + Vagabondia these tilings were better done than elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + The most <i>outré</i> of Phil's hirsute and carelessly garbed + fellow-Bohemians somehow or other seemed neither vulgar nor ill at ease. + They evidently felt at home, and admired faithfully and with complete + unison the feminine members of their friend's family; and their readiness + to catch at the bright or grotesque side of any situation evinced itself + in a manner worthy of imitation. Then, too, there was Tod, taking + excursionary rambles about the carpet, and, far from being in the way, + rendering himself an innocent centre of attraction. Brown cracked jokes + with him, Jones bribed him with cake to the performance of + before-unheard-of feats, and one muscular, fiercely mustached and bearded + young man, whose artistic forte was battle-pieces of the most sanguinary + description, appropriated him bodily and set him on his shoulder, greatly + to the detriment of his paper collar. + </p> + <p> + “The spirit of Vagabondia is strong in Tod,” said Dolly, who at the time + was standing near Gowan upon the hearth-rug, with her own coffee-cup in + hand; “its manifestation being his readiness to accommodate himself to + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Through the whole of the evening Mollie and the camellias shone forth with + resplendence. Those of Phil's masculine friends who had known her since + her babyhood felt instinctively that to-night the Rubicon had been passed. + Unconscious as she was of herself, she was imposing in the maroon silk, + and these free-and-easy, good-natured fellows were the very men to be + keenly alive to any subtle power of womanhood. So when they addressed her + their manner was a trifle subdued, and their deportment toward her had a + faint savor of delicate reverence. + </p> + <p> + Dolly was in her element. Her songs, her little supper, and her plans of + entertainment were a perfect success. Such jokes as she made and such + laughter as she managed to elicit through the medium of the smallest of + them, and such aptness and tact as she displayed in keeping up the general + fusillade of <i>bon-mots</i> and repartee. It would have been impossible + for a witticism to fall short of its mark under her active + superintendence, even if witticisms had been prone to fall short in + Vagabondia, which they decidedly were not. She kept Griffith busy, too, + from first to last, perhaps because she felt it to be the safest plan; at + any rate, she held him near her, and managed to keep him in the best of + spirits all the evening, and more than once Gowan, catching a glimpse of + her as she addressed some simple remark to the favored one, recognized a + certain bright softness in her face which told its own story. But there + would have been little use in openly displaying his discomfiture; so, + after feeling irritated for a moment or so, Ralph Gowan allowed himself to + drift into attendance on Mollie, and, being almost gratefully received by + that young lady, he did not find that the time passed slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you came here.” she said to him, plaintively, when he first + crossed the room to her side. “I do so hate Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “Brown!” he echoed. “Who <i>is</i> Brown, Mollie? and what has Brown been + doing to incur your resentment?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie gave her shoulders a petulant shrug. + </p> + <p> + “Brown is that little man in the big coat,” she said, “the one who went + away when you came. I wish he would stay away. I can't bear him,” with + delightful candor. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” persisted Gowan, casting a glance at the side of the room where + Dolly stood talking to her lover. “Is it because his coat is so big, or + because he is so little, that he is so objectionable? To be at once moral + and instructive, Mollie, a man is not to be judged by his coat.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” returned Mollie, her unconscious innocence asserting + itself; “it is n't that. <i>You</i> couldn't be as disagreeable as he is + if you were dressed in rags.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan turned quickly to look at her, forgetting even Dolly for the + instant,—but she was quite in earnest, and met his questioning eyes + with the most pathetic ignorance of having said anything extraordinary. + Indeed, her faith in what she had said was so patent that he found it + impossible to answer her with a light or jesting speech. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't that,” she went on, pulling at a glossy green leaf on her + bouquet. “If he did n't—if he would n't—if he didn't keep + saying things—” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of things?” asked Gowan, to help her out of her dilemma. + </p> + <p> + “I—don't know,” was the shy reply. “Stupid things.” + </p> + <p> + “Stupid things!” he repeated. “Poor Brown!” and his eyes wandered to Dolly + again. + </p> + <p> + But it would not have been natural if he had not been attracted by Mollie, + after all, and in the course of time in a measure consoled by her. She was + so glad to be protected from the advances of the much despised Brown, that + he found it rather pleasant than otherwise to constitute himself her + body-guard,—to talk to her as they sat, and to be her partner in the + stray dances which accidentally enlivened the evening entertainment. She + danced well, too, he discovered, and with such evident enjoyment of her + own smooth, swaying movements as was quite magnetic, and made him half + reluctant to release her when their first waltz was ended, and she stopped + all aflush with new bloom. + </p> + <p> + “I am <i>so</i> fond of dancing,” she said, catching her breath in a + little sigh of ecstasy. “We all are. It is one of the things we <i>can</i> + do without spending any money, you know.” + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this, just as they were standing in twos and threes, + chatting and refreshing themselves with Dolly's confections and iced + lemonade, that an entirely unexpected advent occurred. There suddenly fell + upon the general ear a sound as of rolling wheels, and a carriage stopped + before the door. + </p> + <p> + Dolly, standing in the midst of a small circle of her own, paused in her + remarks to listen. + </p> + <p> + “It is a carriage, that is certain,” she said,—"and somebody is + getting out. I don't know “—and then a light breaking over her face + in a flash of horror and delight in the situation commingled. “Phil,” she + exclaimed, “the Philistines be upon us,—it is Lady Augusta!” + </p> + <p> + And it was. In two minutes that majestic lady was ushered in by the + excited Belinda, and announced in the following rather remarkable manner,— + </p> + <p> + “If yer please, Miss Dolly, here's your aunt, Mr. Phil.” + </p> + <p> + For a second her ladyship was speechless, even though Dolly advanced to + meet her at once. The festive gathering was too much for her, and the + sight of Ralph Gowan leaning over Mollie in all her bravery, holding her + flowers for her, and appearing so evidently at home, overpowered her + completely. But she recovered herself at length. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware,” she said to Dolly, “that you were having a"—pause + for a word sufficiently significant—"that you were holding a + reception,"—a scathing glance at the pensive Brown, who was at once + annihilated. “You will possibly excuse my involuntary intrusion. I + thought, of <i>course</i>” (emphasis), “that I should find you alone, and + as I had something to say to you concerning Euphemia, I decided to call + tonight on my way from the conversazione at Dr. Bugby's,—perhaps, + Dorothea, your friends” (emphasis again) “will excuse you for a moment, + and you will take me into another room,"—this last as if she had + suddenly found herself in a fever hospital and was rather afraid of + contagion. + </p> + <p> + But apart from Mollie, who pouted and flushed, and was extremely + uncomfortable, nobody seemed to be either chilled or overwhelmed. Phil's + greeting was so cordial and unmoved that her ladyship could only proffer + him the tips of her fingers in imposing silence, and Dolly's air of placid + good-humor was so perfect that it was as good as a modest theatrical + entertainment. + </p> + <p> + She led her visitor out of the room with a most untroubled countenance, + after her ladyship had honored Gowan with a word or so, kindly signifying + her intense surprise at meeting him in the house, and rather intimating, + delicately, that she could not comprehend his extraordinary conduct, and + hoped he would not live to regret it. + </p> + <p> + The interview was not a long one, however. In about ten minutes the + carriage rolled away, and Dolly came back to the parlor with a touch of + new color on her cheek, and a dying-out spark of fire in her eye; and + though her spirits did not seem to have failed her, she was certainly a + trifle moved by something. + </p> + <p> + “Let us have another waltz.” she said, rather as if she wished to dismiss + Lady Augusta from the carpet “I will play this time. Phil, find a + partner.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down to the piano at once, and swept off into one of Phil's own + compositions, and from that time till the end of the evening she scarcely + gave them a moment's pause, and was herself so full of sparkle and + resources that she quite enraptured Gowan, and made the shabby room and + the queer life seem more novel and entrancing than ever. + </p> + <p> + But when the guests were gone, and only Griffith, who was always last, + remained with Phil and the girls, grouped about the fire, the light died + out of her mood, and she looked just a trifle anxious and tired. + </p> + <p> + “Girls,” she said, “I have some bad news to tell you,—at least some + news that isn't exactly good. Lady Augusta has given me what Belinda would + call 'a warning.' I visit the select precincts of Bilberry House as + governess no more.” + </p> + <p> + There is no denying it was a blow to them all. Her salary had been a very + necessary part of the family income, and if they had been straitened with + it, certainly there would be a struggle without it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Mollie, remorsefully. “And you have just spent nearly all you + had on my dress. And you do so want things yourself, Dolly. What shall you + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Begin to take in the daily papers and peruse the advertising column,” she + answered, courageously. “Never mind, it will all come right before long, + and we can keep up our spirits until then.” + </p> + <p> + But, despite her assumed good spirits, when she went to see Griffith out + of the front door, she held to his arm with a significantly clinging + touch, and was so silent for a moment that he stooped in the dark to kiss + her, and found her cheek wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + It quite upset him, too, poor fellow! Dolly crying and daunted was a state + of affairs fraught with anguish to him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dolly!” he exclaimed, tremulously. “Dolly, you are crying!” + </p> + <p> + And then she did give way, and for a minute or so quite needed the shelter + and rest of his arms. She cared for no other shelter or rest; he was quite + enough for her in her brightest or darkest day,—just this + impecunious young man, whose prospects were so limited, but whose + affection for her was so wholly without limit. She might be daunted, but + she could not remain long uncomforted while her love and trust were still + unchanged. Ah! there was a vast amount of magic in the simple, silent + pressure of the arm within that shabby coat-sleeve. + </p> + <p> + So, as might be expected, she managed to recover herself before many + minutes, and receive his tender condolences with renewed spirit; and when + she bade him good-night she was almost herself again, and was laughing, + even though her eyelashes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “we are <i>not</i> going to destruction, Lady Augusta to + the contrary, and the family luck must assert itself some time, since it + has kept itself so long in the background. And in the mean time—well,” + with a little parting wave of her hand, “Vagabondia to the rescue!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” + </h2> + <p> + THEEE was much diligent searching of the advertising columns of the daily + papers for several weeks after this. Advertisements, in fact, became the + staple literature, and Dolly's zeal in the perusal of them was only to be + equalled by her readiness to snatch at the opportunities they presented. + No weather was too grewsome for her to confront, and no representation too + unpromising for her to be allured by. In the morning she was at Bayswater + calling upon the chilling mother of six (four of them boys) whose moral + nature needed judicious attention, and who required to be taught the + rudiments of French, German, and Latin; in the afternoon she was at the + general post-office applying to Q. Y. Z., who had the education of two + interesting orphans to negotiate for, and who was naturally desirous of + doing it as economically as possible; and at night she was at home, + writing modest, business-like epistles to every letter in the alphabet in + every conceivable or inconceivable part of the country. + </p> + <p> + “If I had only been born 'a stout youth,' or 'a likely young man,' or 'a + respectable middle-aged person,' I should have been 'wanted' a dozen times + a day,” she would remark; “but as it is, I suppose I I must wait until + something 'presents itself,' as the Rev. Marmaduke puts it.” + </p> + <p> + And in defiance of various discouraging and dispiriting influences, she + waited with a tolerable degree of tranquillity until, in the course of + time, her patience was rewarded. Sitting by the fire one morning with Tod + and a newspaper, her eye was caught by an advertisement which, though it + did not hold out any extra inducements, still attracted her attention, so + she read it aloud to Aimée and 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + “Wanted, a young person to act as companion to an elderly lady. Apply at + the printers.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Aimée,” she commented, “there is another. I suppose I might call + myself 'a young person,' Don't you think I had better 'apply at the + printer's'?” + </p> + <p> + “They don't mention terms,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “You would have to leave home,” said 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + Dolly folded up the paper and tossed it on to the table with a half sigh. + She had thought of that the moment she read the paragraph, and then, very + naturally, she had thought of Griffith. It would not be feasible to + include him in her arrangements, even if she made any. Elderly ladies who + engage “young persons” as companions were not in the habit of taking + kindly to miscellaneous young men, consequently the prospect was not a + very bright one. + </p> + <p> + There would only be letter-writing left to them, and letters seemed such + cold comfort contrasted with every-day meetings. She remembered, too, a + certain six months she had spent with her Bilberry charges in Switzerland, + when Griffith had nearly been driven frantic by her absence and his + restless dissatisfaction, and when their letters had only seemed new aids + to troublous though unintentional games at cross-purposes. There might be + just the same thing to undergo again, but, then, how was it to be avoided? + It was impossible to remain idle just at this juncture. + </p> + <p> + “So it cannot be helped,” she said, aloud. “I must take it if I can get + it, and I must stay in it until I can find something more pleasant, though + I cannot help wishing that matters did not look so unpromising. Tod, you + will have to go down, Aunt Dolly is going to put on her hat and present + herself at the printer's in the character of a young person in search of + an elderly lady.” + </p> + <p> + Delays were dangerous, she had been taught by experience, so she ran + up-stairs at once for her out-door attire, and came down in a few minutes, + drawing on her gloves and looking a trifle ruefully at them. + </p> + <p> + “They are getting discouragingly white at the seams,” she said, “and it + seems almost impossible to keep them sewed up. I shall have to borrow + Aimée's muff. What a blessing it is that the weather is so cold!” + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the staircase she met Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Phemie is in the parlor, Dolly,” she announced, “and she wants to see + you. I don't believe Lady Augusta knows she is here, either, she looks so + dreadfully fluttered.” + </p> + <p> + And when she entered the room, surely enough Phemie jumped up with a + nervous bound from a chair immediately behind the door, and, dropping her + muff and umbrella and two or three other small articles, caught her in a + tremulous embrace, and at once proceeded to bedew her with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly!” she lamented, pathetically; “I have come to say good-by; and, + oh! what shall I do without you?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by!” said Dolly. “Why, Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Switzerland!” sobbed Phemie. “The—the select seminary at Geneva, + Dolly, where th-that professor of m-music with the lumpy face was.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” Dolly ejaculated. “You don't mean to say you are going there, + Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” answered Euphemia. “Next week, too. And, oh dear, Dolly!” + trying to recover her handkerchief, “if it had been anywhere else I could + have borne it, but that,” resignedly, “was the reason mamma settled on it. + She found out how I <i>loathed</i> the very thought of it, and then she + decided immediately. And don't you remember those mournful girls, Dolly, + who used to walk out like a funeral procession, and how we used to make + fun—at least, how you used to make fun of the lady principal's best + bonnet?” + </p> + <p> + It will be observed by this that Miss Dorothea Crewe's intercourse with + her pupils had not been as strictly in accordance with her position as + instructress as it had been friendly. She had even gone so far as to set + decorum at defiance, by being at once entertaining and jocular, though to + her credit it must be said that she had worked hard enough for her modest + salary, and had not neglected even the most trivial of her numerous + duties. + </p> + <p> + She began to console poor Euphemia to the best of her ability, but + Euphemia refused to be comforted. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to take lessons from that lumpy professor, Dolly,” she said. + “And you know how I used to hate him when he <i>would</i> make love to + you. And that was mamma's fault, too, because she would patronize him and + call him 'a worthy person.' He was the only man who admired you I ever + knew her to encourage, and she would n't have encouraged him if he had n't + been so detestable.” + </p> + <p> + It was very evident that the eldest Miss Bilberry was in a highly + rebellious and desperate state of mind. Dolly's daily visits, educational + though they were, had been the brightest gleams of sunlight in her sternly + regulated existence. No one had ever dared to joke in the Bilberry mansion + but Dolly, and no one but Dolly, had ever made the clan gatherings + bearable to Euphemia; and now that Dolly was cut off from them all, and + there were to be no more jokes and no more small adventures, life seemed a + desert indeed. And then with the calamitous prospect of Switzerland and + the lumpy professor before her, Phemie was crushed indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma doesn't know I came,” she confessed, tearfully, at last; “but I + could n't help it, Dolly, I could n't go away without asking you to write + to me and to let me write to you. You will write to me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Dolly promised at once, feeling a trifle affected herself. She had always + been fond of Phemie, and inclined to sympathize with her, and now she + exerted herself to her utmost to cheer her. She persuaded her to sit down, + and after picking up the muff and umbrella and parcels, took a seat by + her, and managed to induce her to dry her tears and enter into + particulars. + </p> + <p> + “It will never do for Lady Augusta to see that you have been crying,” she + said. “Dry your eyes, and tell me all about it, and—wait a minute, I + have a box of chocolates here, and I know you like chocolates.” + </p> + <p> + It was a childish consolation, perhaps, but Dolly knew what she was doing + and whom she was dealing with, and this comforting with confections was + not without its kindly girlish tact. Chocolates were one of Phemie's + numerous school-girl weaknesses, and a weakness so rarely indulged in that + she perceptibly brightened when her friend produced the gay-colored, + much-gilded box. And thus stimulated, she poured forth her sorrows with + more coherence and calmness. She was to go to Switzerland, that was + settled, and the others were to be placed in various other highly select + educational establishments. They were becoming too old now, Lady Augusta + had decided, to remain under Dolly's care. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” added Euphemia, half timidly, “you won't be vexed if I tell + you, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” answered Dolly, who knew very well what was coming, + though poor Phemie evidently thought she was going to impart an extremely + novel and unexpected piece of intelligence. “What is it, Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, somehow or other, I don't believe mamma exactly likes you, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + Now, considering circumstances, this innocent speech amounted to a rich + sort of thing to say, but Dolly did not laugh; she might caricature Lady + Augusta for the benefit of her own select circle of friends, but she never + made jokes about her before Phemie, however sorely she might be tempted. + So, now she helped herself to a chocolate with perfect sobriety of + demeanor. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “I have thought so myself, Phemie.” And then, + as soon as possible, changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + At length Phemie rose to go. As Lady Augusta was under the impression that + she was merely taking the dismal daily constitutional, which was one of + her unavoidable penances, it would not do to stay too long. + </p> + <p> + “So I <i>must</i> go,” lamented Phemie; “but, Dolly, if you would n't + mind, I should <i>so</i> like to see the baby. I have never seen him since + the day we called with mamma,—and I am so fond of babies, and he was + so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly laughed, in spite of herself. She remembered the visit so well, and + Lady Augusta's loftily resigned air of discovering, in the passively + degenerate new arrival, the culminating point of the family depravity. + </p> + <p> + “It is much to be regretted,” she had said, disapprovingly; “but it is + exactly what I foresaw from the first, and you will have to make the best + of it.” + </p> + <p> + And then, on Dolly's modestly suggesting that they intended to do so, and + were not altogether borne down to the earth by the heavy nature of their + calamity, she had openly shuddered. + </p> + <p> + But Phemie had quite clung to the small bundle of lawn and flannel, and + though she had never seen Tod since, she had by no means forgotten him. + </p> + <p> + “He will be quite a big boy when I come back,” she added. “And I should so + like to see him once again while he is a baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you shall see him,” said Dolly. “Tod is the one individual in this + house who always feels himself prepared to receive visitors. He is n't + fastidious about his personal appearance. If you will come into the next + room, I dare say we shall find him.” + </p> + <p> + And they did find him. Being desirous of employing, to the greatest + advantage, the time spent in his retirement within the bosom of his + family, he was concentrating his energies upon the mastication of the toe + of his slipper, upon which task he was bestowing the strictest and most + undivided attention, as he sat in the centre of the hearth-rug. + </p> + <p> + “He has got another tooth, Aunt Dolly,” announced 'Toinette, triumphantly, + as soon as the greetings were over. “Show Aunt Dolly his tooth.” And, + being laid upon his back on the maternal knee, in the most uncomfortable + and objectionable of positions, the tooth was exhibited, as a matter + calling forth public rejoicings. + </p> + <p> + Phemie knelt on the carpet before him, the humblest of his devotees. + </p> + <p> + “He is prettier than ever,” she said. “Do you think he would come to me, + Mrs. Crewe?” + </p> + <p> + And, though the object of her admiration at once asserted his prerogatives + by openly rejecting her overtures with scorn, she rejoiced over him as + ecstatically as if he had shown himself the most amiable of infant + prodigies, which he most emphatically had not, probably having been + rendered irascible by the rash and inconsiderately displayed interest in + his dental developments. Whatever more exacting people might have thought, + Phemie was quite satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was in your place, Dolly,” she said, as she was going away. “You + seem so happy together here, somehow or other. Oh, dear! You don't know + how dreadful our house seems by contrast. If things <i>would</i> break or + upset, or look a little untidy,—or if mamma's caps and dresses just + would n't look so solid and heavy—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” laughed Dolly, “you have n't seen our worst side, Phemie,—the + shabby side, which means worn shoes and old dresses and bills. We don't + get our whistle for nothing in Vagabondia, though, to be sure,"—and + I won't say a memory of the shabby coat-sleeve did not suggest the + amendment,—"I don't think we pay too dearly for it; and I believe + there is not one of us who would not rather pay for it than live without + it.” + </p> + <p> + And when she gave the girl her farewell kiss, it was a very warm one, with + a touch of pity in it. It was impossible for her to help feeling sympathy + for any one who was without the Griffith element in existence. + </p> + <p> + After this she went out herself to apply at the printer's, and was sent + from there to Brabazon Lodge, which was a suburban establishment, in a + chilly aristocratic quarter. An imposing edifice, Brabazon Lodge, built of + stone, and most uncompromisingly devoid of superfluous ornament. No mock + minarets or unstable towers at Brabazon Lodge,—a substantial mansion + in a substantial garden behind substantial iron gates, and so solid in its + appointments that it was quite a task for Dolly to raise the substantial + lion's head which formed the front-door knocker. + </p> + <p> + “Wanted, a young person,” she was saying to herself, meekly, when her + summons was answered by a man-servant, and she barely escaped announcing + herself as “the young person, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Once inside the house, she was not kept waiting. She was ushered into a + well-appointed side-room, where a bright fire burned in the grate. The man + retired to make known her arrival to his mistress, and Dolly settled + herself in a chair by the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how many 'young persons' have been sent away sorrowing this + morning,” she said, “and I wonder how Griffith will like the idea of my + filling the position of companion to an elderly lady, or any other order + of lady, for the matter of that? Poor old fellow!” and she gave vent to an + unmistakable sigh. + </p> + <p> + But the appearance of the elderly lady put an end to her regrets. The door + opened and she entered, and Dolly rose to receive her. The next instant, + however, she gave a little start. She had seen the elderly lady before, + and confronting her now recognized her at once,—Miss Berenice + MacDowlas. And that Miss MacDowlas recognized her also was quite evident, + for she advanced with the air of one who was not at all at a loss. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” she remarked, succinctly, and gave Dolly her hand. + </p> + <p> + That young person took it modestly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I have had the pleasure—” she was beginning, when Miss + MacDowlas interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “You met me at the Bilberrys',” she said. “I remember seeing you very + well. You are Dorothea Crewe.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly bowed in her most insinuatingly graceful manner. + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat,” said Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + Dolly did so at once. + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas looked at her with the air of an elderly lady who was not + displeased. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you very well,” she repeated. “You were governess there. Why + did you leave?” + </p> + <p> + Dolly did not know very definitely, and told her so. + </p> + <p> + The notice given her had been unexpected. Lady Augusta had said it was + because her pupils were old enough to be sent from home. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Miss MacDowlas, and looked at her again from her hat to her + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “You are fond of reading?” she asked next + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “You read French well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly. She knew she need not hesitate to say that, at least. + </p> + <p> + “You are good company and are fond of society?” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of society,” said Dolly, “and I hope I am 'good company,'” + </p> + <p> + “You don't easily lose patience?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon circumstances,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “You can play and sing?” + </p> + <p> + “I did both the night I met you,” returned the young person. + </p> + <p> + “So you did,” said Miss MacDowlas, and examined her again. + </p> + <p> + It was rather an odd interview, upon the whole, but it did not end + unfortunately. Miss MacDowlas wanted a companion who was quick-witted and + amusing, and, having seen that Dolly was both on the evening of the + Bilberry clan gathering, she had taken a fancy to her. So after a little + sharp questioning, she announced her decision. She would employ her to + fill the vacant situation at the same rate of salary she had enjoyed in + her position of governess to the youthful Bilberrys, and she would employ + her at once. + </p> + <p> + “I want somebody to amuse me,” she said, “and I think you can do it. I am + often an invalid, and my medical man says the society of a young person + will benefit me.” + </p> + <p> + So it was settled that the following week Dolly should take up her abode + at Brabazon Lodge and enter upon the fulfilment of her duties. She was to + read, play, sing, assist in the entertainment of visitors, and otherwise + make herself generally useful, and, above all, she was to be amusing. + </p> + <p> + She left the house and proceeded homeward in a peculiar frame of mind. She + could have laughed, but she was compelled to admit to herself that she + could also have cried with equal readiness. She had met with an adventure + indeed. She was a young person at large no longer; henceforth she was the + property of the elderly dragon she had so often laughed at with Griffith. + And yet the dragon had not been so objectionable, after all. She had been + abrupt and unceremonious, but she had been better than Lady Augusta, and + she had not shown herself illiberal. But there would be no more daily + visits from Griffith, no more <i>téte-à-tétes</i> in the shabby parlor, no + more sitting by the fire when the rest had left the room, no more tender + and inconsistently long farewells at the front door. It was not pleasant + to think about. She found herself catching her breath quickly, with a + sound like a little sob. + </p> + <p> + “He will miss it awfully,” she said to herself, holding her muff closely + with her small, cold hands, and shutting her eyes to work away a tear; + “but he won't miss it more than I shall. He might live without me perhaps, + but I could n't live without him. I wonder if ever two people cared for + each other as we do before? And I wonder if the time will ever come—” + And there she broke off again, and ended as she so often did. “Poor old + fellow!” she said. “Poor, dear, patient, faithful fellow! how I love you!” + </p> + <p> + She hurried on briskly after this, but she was wondering all the time what + he would say when he found out that they were really to be separated. He + would rebel, she knew, and anathematize fate vehemently. But she knew the + rest of them would regard it as rather a rich joke that chance should have + thrown her into the hands of Miss MacDowlas. They had all so often laughed + at Griffith's descriptions of her and her letters, given generally when he + had been galled into a caustic mood by the arrival of one of the latter. + </p> + <p> + Beaching Bloomsbury Place, Dolly found her lover there. He had dropped in + on his way to his lodgings, and was awaiting her in a fever of + expectation, having heard the news from Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “What is this Aimée has been telling me?” he cried, the moment she entered + the room. “You can't be in earnest, Doll! You can't leave home altogether, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her muff on the table and sat down on one of the low chairs, + with her feet on the fender. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so until this morning,” she said, a trifle mournfully; “but it + can't be helped. The fact is, it is all settled now. I am an engaged young + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Settled!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “Engaged! Dolly, I did n't + think you would have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “I could n't help doing it,” said Dolly, her spirits by no means rising as + she spoke. “How could I?” + </p> + <p> + But he would not be consoled by any such cold comfort. He had regarded the + possibility of her leaving the house altogether as something not likely to + be thought of. Very naturally, he was of the opinion that Dolly was as + absolute a necessity to every one else as she was to himself. What <i>should</i> + he do without her? How could he exist? It was an unreasoning insanity to + talk about it. He was so roused by his subject indeed, that, neither of + them being absolutely angelic in temperament, they wandered off into + something very like a little quarrel about it,—he, goaded to + lover-like madness by the idea that she could live without him; she, + finding her low spirits culminate in a touch of anger at his hotheaded, + affectionate obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “But it is not to be expected,” he broke out at last, without any reason + whatever,—"it is not to be expected that you can contend against + everything. You are tired of disappointment, and I don't blame you. I + should be a selfish dolt if I did. If Gowan had been in my place he could + have married you, and have given you a home of your own. I never shall be + able to do that. But,” with great weakness and evidence of tribulation at + the thought, “I didn't think you would be so cool about it, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Cool!” cried Dolly, waxing wroth and penitent both at once, as usual. + “Who is cool? Not I, that is certain. I shall miss you every hour of my + life, Griffith.” And the sad little shadow on her face was so real that he + was pacified at once. + </p> + <p> + “I am an unreasonable simpleton!” was his next remorseful outburst. + </p> + <p> + “You have said that before,” said Dolly, rather hard-heartedly; but in + spite of it she did not refuse to let him be as affectionate as he chose + when he knelt down by her chair, as he did the next minute. + </p> + <p> + “It would be a great deal better for me,” she half whispered, breaking the + suspicious silence that followed,—"it would be a great deal better + for <i>me</i> if I did not care for you half so much;” and yet at the same + time she leaned a trifle more toward him in the most traitorous of + half-coaxing, half-reproachful ways. + </p> + <p> + “It would be the death of <i>me</i>,” said Griffith; and he at once + plunged into an eloquently persuasive dissertation upon the height and + depth and breadth and force of his love for her. He was prone to such + dissertations, and always ready with one to improve any occasion; and I am + compelled to admit that, far from checking him, Dolly rather liked them, + and was given to encourage and incite him to their delivery. When this one + was ended, he was quite in the frame of mind to listen to reason, and let + her enter into particulars concerning her morning's efforts, which she + did, at length, only adding a flavor of the mysterious up to the + introduction of Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried out Griffith, when she let out the secret. “Confound it! No! + Not Aunt MacDowlas in the flesh, Dolly? You are joking.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, shaking her head at the amazed faces of the girls, + who had come in during the recital, and who had been guilty of the + impropriety of all exclaiming at once when the climax was reached. “I am + in earnest. I am engaged as companion to no less a person than Miss + Berenice MacDowlas.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is like something out of a three-volumed novel,” said Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “It is a good joke,” said 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + “It is very awkward,” commented Aimée. “If she finds out you are engaged + to Griffith, she will think it so indiscreet of you both that she will cut + him off with a shilling.” + </p> + <p> + “Indiscreet!” echoed Dolly. “So we are indiscreet, my sage young friend,—but + indiscretion is like variety, it is the spice of life.” + </p> + <p> + And by this brisk speech she managed to sweep away the shadow which had + touched Griffith's face, at the unconscious hint at their lack of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say such a thing again,” she said to Aimée afterward, when they + were talking the matter over, as they always talked things over together, + “or he will fancy that you share his own belief that he has something to + reproach himself with. Better to be indiscreet than to love one another + less.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal better,” commented the wise one of the family, oracularly. + She was not nineteen yet, this wise one, but she was a great comfort and + help to Dolly, and indeed to all of them. “And it is n't <i>my</i> way to + blame you, either, Dolly, though things <i>do</i> look so entangled. <i>I</i> + never advised you to give it up, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it up,” cried Dolly, a soft, pathetic warmth and color rising to her + face and eyes. “Give it up! There would be too much of what has past and + what is to come to give up with it. Give it up! I wouldn't if I could, and + I could n't if I would.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + </h2> + <p> + IT was several days before Bloomsbury Place settled down and became itself + again after Dolly's departure. They all missed her as they would have + missed any one of their number who had chanced to leave them; but + Griffith, coming in to make his daily visits, was naturally almost + disconsolate, and for a week or so refused to be comforted. + </p> + <p> + He could not overcome his habit of dropping in on his way to and from his + lodgings, which were near by; it was a habit of too long standing to be + overcome easily, and besides this, he was so far a part of the family + circle that his absence from it would have been regarded by its other + members as something rather like a slight, so he was obliged to pay them + the delicate attention of presenting himself at least once a day. And thus + his wounds were kept open. To come into the parlor and find them all there + but Dolly, to see her favorite chair occupied by Mollie or Aimée or + 'Toinette, to hear them talk about her and discuss her prospects,—well, + there were times when he was quite crushed by it. + </p> + <p> + “If there was any hope of a better day coming,” he said to Aimée, who, + through being the family sage, was, of course, the family confidante, “if + there was only something real to look forward to, but we are just where we + were three years ago, and this sort of thing cannot go on forever. What + right have I to hold her to her word when other men might make her + happier?” + </p> + <p> + Ainice, sitting on a stool at his feet and looking reflective, shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “That is not a right view to take,” she said, “and it is n't fair to + Dolly. Dolly would be happier with you on a pound a week than she would be + with any one else on ten thousand a year. And you ought to know that by + this time, Griffith. It is n't a question of happiness at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean—” he was beginning, but Aimée interrupted him. Her + part of this love affair was to lay plans for the benefit of the lovers + and to endeavor to settle their little difficulties in her own way. + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of Dolly,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her!” echoed Griffith. “So am I. Who isn't?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of Dolly,” Aimée proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “And <i>I</i> know her as other people do not, perhaps. She does not show + as much of her real self to outsiders as they think. I have often thought + her daring, open way deceived people when it made them fancy she was so + easy to read. She has romantic fancies of her own the world never suspects + her of,—if I did not know her as I do, she is the last person on + earth I should suspect of cherishing such fancies. The fact is, you are a + sort of romance to her, and her love for you is one of her dreams, and she + clings to it as closely as she would cling to life. It is a dream she has + lived on so long that it has become part of herself, and it is my + impression that if anything happened to break her belief in it she would + die,—yes, <i>die!</i>” with another emphatic shake of the pretty + head. “And Dolly is n't the sort of girl to die for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith raised his bowed head from his hands, his soft, dark, womanish + eyes lighting up and his sallow young face flushing. “God bless her,—no!” + he said. “Her life has not been free from thorns, even so far, and she has + not often cried out against them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Aimée. “And when the roses come, no one will see as you + will how sweet she finds them. Your Dolly is n't Lady Augusta's Dolly, or + Mollie's, or Ralph Gowan's, or even mine; she is the Dolly no one but her + lover and her husband has ever seen or ever will see. <i>You</i> can get + at the spark in the opal.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith was comforted, as he often found himself comforted, under the + utterances of this wise one. + </p> + <p> + His desperation was toned down, and he was readier to hope for the best + and to feel warm at heart and grateful,—grateful for Dolly and the + tender thoughts that were bound up in his love for her. The tender phantom + Aimée's words had conjured up, stirred within his bosom a thrill so loving + and impassioned, that for the time the radiance seemed to emanate from the + very darkest of his clouds of disappointment and discouragement. He was + reminded that but for those very clouds the girl's truth and faith would + never have shone out so brightly. But for their poverty and long + probation, he could never have learned how much she was ready to face for + love's sake. And it was such an innocent phantom, too, this bright little + figure smiling upon him through the darkness, with Dolly's own face, and + Dolly's own saucy, fanciful ways, and Dolly's own hands outstretched + toward him. He quite plucked up spirit. + </p> + <p> + “If Old Flynn could just be persuaded to give me a raise,” he said; “it + would n't take much of an income for two people to live on.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the wise one, feeling some slight misgivings, more on the + subject of the out-go than the income. “You might live on very little—if + you had it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Griffith, apparently struck by the brilliancy of the + observation, “Dolly and I have said so often.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” considered Aimée, “suppose we were to make a sort of + calculation. Give me your lead-pencil and a leaf out of your pocket-book.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith produced both at once. He had done it often enough before when + Dolly had been the calculator, and had made a half-serious joke of the + performance, counting up her figures on the tips of her fingers, and + making great professions of her knowledge of domestic matters; but it was + a different affair in Aimée's hands. Aimée was in earnest, and bending + over her scrap of paper, with two or three little lines on her white + forehead began to set things down with an air at once business-like and + vigorous, reading, the various items aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Rent, coals, taxes, food, wages,—you can't do your own washing, you + know,—clothes, etceteras. There it is, Griffith,” the odd, tried + look settling in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Griffith took the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he remarked, resignedly, after he had glanced at it. “Just + fifty pounds per annum more than I have any prospect of getting. But you + are very kind to take so much interest in it, little woman.” “Little + woman” was his pet name for her. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand up to her forehead and gave the wrinkles a little rub, as + if she would have liked to rub them away. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, in distress. “I am very fond of calculating, so it isn't + any trouble to me. I only wish I could calculate until what you want and + what you have got would come out even.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith sighed. He had wished the same thing himself upon several + occasions. + </p> + <p> + He had one consolation in the midst of his tribulations, however. He had + Dolly's letters, one of which arrived at “the office” every few days. + Certainly they were both faithful correspondents. Tied with blue ribbon in + a certain strong box, lay an immense collection of small envelopes, all + marked with one peculiarity, namely, that the letters inside them had been + at once closely written, and so much too tightly packed that it seemed a + wonder they had ever arrived safely at their destination. They bore + various postmarks, foreign and English, and were of different tints, but + they were all directed in the one small, dashing hand, whose <i>t''</i>s + were crossed with an audacious little flourish, and whose capitals were so + prone to run into whimsical little curls. Most of them had been written + when Dolly had sojourned with her charges in Switzerland, and some of them + were merely notes of appointment from Bloomsbury Place; but each of them + held its own magnetic attraction for Griffith, and not one of them would + he have parted with for untold gold. He could count these small envelopes + by the score, but he had never received one in his life without + experiencing a positive throb of delight, which held fresh pleasure every + time. + </p> + <p> + Most of these letters, too, had stories of their own. Some had come when + he had been discouraged and down at heart, and they had been so full of + sunshine, and pretty, loving conceits, that by the time he had finished + reading them he had been positively jubilant; some, I regret to say, were + a trifle wilful and coquettish, and had so roused him to jealous fancies + that he had instantly dashed off a page or so of insane reproach and + distrust which had been the beginning of a lover's quarrel; some of them + (always written after he had been specially miserable and unreasoning) + were half-pathetic mixtures of reproach and appeal, full of small dashes + of high indignation, and outbursts of penitence, and with such a + capricious, yet passionate ring in every line, that they had seemed less + like letters than actual speech, and had almost forced him to fancy that + Dolly herself was at his side, all in the flush and glow of one of her + prettiest remorseful outbreaks. + </p> + <p> + And these letters from Brabazon Lodge were just as real, so they at least + helped him to bear his trials more patiently than he could otherwise have + done. She was far more comfortable than she had expected to be, she told + him. Her duties were light, and Miss MacDowlas not hard to please, and + altogether she was not dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “But that I am away from <i>you</i>,” she wrote, “I should say Brabazon + Lodge was better than the Bilberrys'. There is no skirmishing with Lady + Augusta, at least; and, though skirmishing with Lady Augusta is not + without its mild excitement, it is not necessary to one's happiness, and + may be dispensed with. I wonder what Miss MacDowlas would say if she knew + why I wear this modest ring on my third finger. When I explained to her + casually that we were old friends, she succinctly remarked that you were a + reprobate, and, feeling it prudent not to proceed with further + disclosures, I bent my head demurely over my embroidery, and subsided into + silence. I cannot discover why she disapproves of you unless it is that + she has erratic notions about literary people. Perhaps she will alter her + opinion in time. As it is, it can scarcely matter whether she knows of our + engagement or not. When a fitting opportunity arrives I shall tell her, + and I don't say I shall not enjoy the spice of the <i>denouement</i>. In + the meantime I read aloud to her, talk, work wonders in Berlin wool, and + play or sing when she asks me, which is not often. In the morning we drive + out, in the afternoon she enjoys her nap, and in the evening I sit + decorously intent upon the Berlin wonders, but thinking all the time of + you and the parlor in Bloomsbury Place, where Tod disports himself in + triumphant indifference to consequences, and where the girls discuss the + lingering possibilities of their wardrobes. You may-tell Mollie we are + very grand,—we have an immense footman, who accompanies us in our + walks or drives, and condescends to open and shut our carriage-door for + us, with the air of a gentleman at leisure. I am rather inclined to think + that this gentleman has cast an approving eye upon me, as I heard him + observe to the housemaid the other day, that I was 'a reether hinterestin' + young party,' which mark of friendly notice has naturally cheered me on my + lonely way.” + </p> + <p> + Among the people who felt the change in the household keenly, Ralph Gowan + may assuredly be included. He missed Dolly as much as any of them did, but + he missed her in a different manner. He did not call quite as often as he + had been in the habit of doing, and when he did call he was more silent + and less entertaining. Dolly had always had an inspiring effect upon him, + and, lacking the influence of her presence, even Vagabondia lost something + of its charm. So sometimes he was guilty of the impoliteness of slipping + into half-unconscious reveries of a few minutes' duration, and, being thus + guilty upon one particular occasion, he was roused, after a short lapse of + time, through the magnetic influence of a pair of soft eyes fixed upon + him, which eyes he encountered the instant he looked up, with a start. + </p> + <p> + Mollie—the eyes were Mollie's—dropped her brown lashes with a + quick motion, turning a little away from him; so he smiled at her with a + sense of half-awakened appreciation. It was so natural to smile so at + Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mollie,” he said, “what ails us? We are not usually so dull. We have + not spoken to each other for ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The girl did not look at him; her round, childish cheek was flushed, and + her eyes were fixed on the fire, half proudly, half with a sort of + innocently transparent indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we have nothing worth saying to each other,” she said. “Everybody + is n't like Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly! He colored slightly, though he smiled again. How did she know he + was thinking of Dolly? Was it so patent a fact that even she could read it + in his face? It never occurred to him for an instant that there could + exist a reason why the eyes of this grown-up baby should be sharpened. She + was such a very baby, with her ready blushes and her pettish, lovely face. + </p> + <p> + “And so you miss Dolly, too?” he said. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply that she considered the + question superfluous. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” she answered; “and of course we all do. Dolly is the + sort of person likely to be missed.” + </p> + <p> + She was so petulant about it that, not understanding her, he was both + amused and puzzled, and so by degrees was drawn into making divers + gallant, almost caressing speeches, such as might have been drawn from him + by the changeful mood of a charming, wilful child. + </p> + <p> + “Something has made you angry,” he said. “What is it, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing has made me angry,” she replied. “I am not angry.” + </p> + <p> + “But you look angry,” he returned, “and how do you suppose I am to be + interesting when you look angry?” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot matter to you,” said Miss Mollie, “whether I am angry or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not matter!” he echoed, with great gravity. “It amounts to positive + cruelty. Just at this particular moment I feel as if I should never smile + again.” + </p> + <p> + She reddened to her very throat, and then turned round all at once, + flashing upon him such a piteous, indignant, indescribable glance as + almost startled him. + </p> + <p> + “You are making fun of me,” she cried out. “You always make fun of <i>me</i>. + You would n't talk so to Dolly.” And that instant she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + He was dumbfounded. He could not comprehend it at all. He had thought of + her as being so completely a child, that her troubles were never more than + a child's troubles, and her moods a child's moods. He had admired her, + too, as he would have admired her if she had been six years old, and he + had never spoken to her as he would have spoken to a woman, in the whole + course of their acquaintance. She was right in telling him that he would + not have said such things to Dolly. He was both concerned and touched. + What could he do but go to her and be dangerously penitent, and say a + great many things easily said, but not soon to be forgotten! Indeed, her + soft, nervous, passionate sobs, of which she was so much ashamed, her + innocent tremor, and her pretty, wilful disregard of his remorse were such + a new sensation to him, that it must be confessed he was not so discreet + as he should have been. + </p> + <p> + “You never speak so to Dolly,” she persisted, “nor to Aimée, either, and + Aimée is only two years older than I am. It is not my fault,” petulantly, + “that I am only seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Fault!” he repeated after her. “It is a very charming fault, if it is + one. Come, Mollie,” looking down at her with a tender softness in his + eyes, “make friends with me again,—we ought to be friends. See,—let + us shake hands!” + </p> + <p> + Of course she let him take her hand and hold it lightly for a moment as he + talked, his really honest remorse at his blunder making him doubly earnest + and so doubly dangerous. She had swept even Dolly out of his mind for the + time being, and she occupied his attention so fully for the rest of the + evening that he had not the time to be absent-minded again. In half an + hour all traces of her tears had fled, and she was sitting on her + footstool near him, accepting with such evident delight his efforts at + amusing her, that she quite repaid him for his trouble. + </p> + <p> + After this there seemed to be some connecting link between them. In + default of other attractions, he made headway with Mollie, and was to some + extent consoled. He talked to her when he made his visits, and it + gradually became an understood thing that they were very good friends. He + won her confidence completely,—so far, indeed, that she used to tell + him her troubles, and was ready to accept what meed of praise or friendly + blame he might think fit to bestow upon her. + </p> + <p> + It was a few weeks after the above-recorded episode that Griffith arrived + one afternoon, in some haste, with a note from Dolly addressed to Aimée, + and containing a few hurried lines. It had been enclosed in a letter to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat unexpectedly Miss MacDowlas had decided upon giving a + dinner-party, and Dolly wanted the white merino, which she had forgotten + to put into her trunk when she had packed it. Would they make a parcel of + it and send it by Mollie to Brabazon Lodge? + </p> + <p> + “You will have to go at once, Mollie,” said Aimée, after reading the note. + “It will be dark in an hour, and you ought not to be out after dark.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great deal nicer to be out then,” said Mollie, whose ideas of + propriety were by no means rigid. “I like to see the shop windows lighted + up. Where is my hat? Does anybody know?” rising from the carpet and + abandoning Tod to his own resources. + </p> + <p> + Nobody did know, of course. It was not natural that anybody should. Hats + and gloves and such small fry were generally left to provide quarters for + themselves in Bloomsbury Place. + </p> + <p> + “What is the use of bothering?” remarked Mrs. Phil, disposing of the + difficulty of their non-appearance when required, simply; “they always + turn up in time.” And in like manner Mollie's hat “turned up,” and in a + few minutes she returned to the parlor, tying the elastic under her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Your hair wants doing,” said Aimée, having made up her parcel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Mollie, contentedly, “Tod has been pulling himself up by + it; but it would be such a trouble to do anything to it just now, and I + can tuck it back in a bunch. It only looks a little fuzzy, and that 's + fashionable. Does this jacket look shabby, Aimée? It is a good thing it + has pockets in it. I always <i>did</i> like pockets in a jacket, they are + so nice to put your hands in when your gloves have holes in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your gloves oughtn't to have holes in them,” commented Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “But how can you help it if you have n't got the money to buy new ones?” + asked Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to mend them,” said the wise one. + </p> + <p> + “Mend them!” echoed Mollie, regarding two or three bare pink finger-tips + dubiously. “They are not worth mending.” + </p> + <p> + “They were once,” said Aimée; “and you ought to have stitched them before + it was too late. But that is always our way,” wrinkling her forehead with + her usual touch of old-young anxiousness. “We are not practical. There! + take the parcel and walk quickly, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + Once on the street, Mollie certainly obeyed her. With the parcel in one + arm, and with one hand thrust into the convenient pocket, she hurried on + her way briskly, not even stopping once to look at the shop windows. Quite + unconscious, too, was she of the notice she excited among the passers-by. + People even turned to look after her more than once, as indeed they often + did. The scarlet scarf twisted round her throat to hide the frayed jacket + collar, and the bit of scarlet mixed with the trimmings of her hat + contrasted artistically with her brown eyes, and added brightness to the + color on her cheeks. It was no wonder that men and women alike, in spite + of their business-like hurry, found time to glance at her and even turn + their heads over their shoulders to look backward, as she made her way + along the pavement. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark when she reached her destination, and Brabazon Lodge was + brilliantly lighted up,—so brilliantly, indeed, that when the heavy + front door was opened, in answer to her ring, she was a trifle dazzled by + the flood of brightness in which Dolly's friend, the “gentleman at + leisure,” seemed to stand. + </p> + <p> + On stating her errand, she was handed over to a female servant, who stood + in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “She was to be harsked in,” she heard the footman observe, confidentially, + to the young woman, “and taken to Miss Crewe's room immediate.” + </p> + <p> + So she was led up-stairs, and ushered into a pretty bedroom, where she + found Dolly sitting by the fire in a dressing-gown, with her hair about + her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She jumped up the moment Mollie entered, and ran to her, brush in hand, to + kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good child,” she said. “Come to the fire and sit down. Did you + have any trouble in finding the house? I was afraid you would. It was just + like me to forget the dress, and I never missed it until I began to look + for it, wanting to wear it to-night. How is Tod?” + </p> + <p> + “He has got another tooth,” said Mollie. “I found it to-day. Dolly,” + glancing round, “how nice your room is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dolly, checking a sigh, “but don't sigh after the + fleshpots of Egypt, Mollie. One does n't see the dullest side of life at + Bloomsbury Place, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it dull here?” asked Mollie. + </p> + <p> + Dolly shrugged her expressive shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Berlin-wool work is n't exciting,” she said. “How did you leave + Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Low-spirited,” replied Mollie. “I heard him tell Aimée this afternoon + that he could n't stand it much longer.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly began to brush her hair, and brushed it very much over her face, + perhaps because she wished to take advantage of its shadow; for most + assuredly Mollie caught sight of something sparkling amongst the abundant + waves almost like a drop of dew. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said at last, breaking the awkward little sympathetic silence + which naturally followed, “do you remember our reading the 'Vicar of + Wakefield'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, in a mournful half-whisper; she could not trust herself + to say more. + </p> + <p> + “And about the family being 'up,' and then being 'down'? I always think we + are like they were. First it is 'the family up,' and then 'the family + down.' It is down just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “It will be 'up' again, in time,” proceeded Mollie, sagaciously. “It + always is.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly tried to laugh, but her laugh was a nervous little effort which + broke off in another sound altogether. Berlin-wool work and Brabazon Lodge + had tried her somewhat and—she wanted Griffith. It seemed to her + just then such a far distant unreal Paradise,—that dream of the + modest parlor with the door shut against the world, and the green sofa + drawn near the fire. Were they ever to attain it, or were they to grow old + and tired out waiting, and hoping against hope? + </p> + <p> + She managed to rally, however, in a few minutes. Feeling discouraged and + rebellious was not of much use,—that was one of Vagabondia's + earliest learned lessons. And what good was there in making Mollie + miserable? So she plucked up spirit and began to talk, and, to her credit + be it said, succeeded in being fairly amusing, and made Mollie laugh + outright half a dozen times during the remainder of her short stay. It was + only a short stay, however. She remembered Aimée's warning at last, and + rose rather in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to walk quickly if I want to get home in time for tea,” she + said, “so good-night, Dolly. You had better finish dressing.” + </p> + <p> + “So I had,” answered Dolly. “I am behind time already, but I shall not be + many minutes, and Miss MacDowlas is not like Lady Augusta. Listen; I + believe I hear wheels at the door now. It must be later than I fancied.” + </p> + <p> + It was later than she fancied. As Mollie passed through the hall two + gentlemen who were ascending the steps crossed her path, and, seeing the + face of one who had not appeared to notice her presence, she started so + nervously that she dropped her glove. His companion—a handsome, + foreign-looking man—bent down and, picking it up, returned it to + her, with a glance of admiring scrutiny which made her more excited than + ever. She scarcely had the presence of mind to thank him, but rushed past + him and out into the night in a passionate flutter of pain and sudden + childish anger, inconsistent enough. + </p> + <p> + “He never saw me!” she said to herself, catching her breath piteously. “He + is going to see Dolly. It is n't the party he cares for, and it is n't + Miss MacDowlas,—it is nobody but Dolly. He has tried to get an + invitation just because—because he cares for Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She reached home in time for tea, arriving with so little breath and so + much burning color that they all stared at her, and Aimée asked her if she + had been frightened. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, “but I ran half the way because I wanted to be in + time.” + </p> + <p> + She did not talk at tea, and scarcely ate anything, and when Griffith came + in, at about nine o'clock, he found her lying on the sofa, flushed and + silent. She said she had a headache. + </p> + <p> + “I took Dolly her dress,” she said. “They are having a grand party and—Does + Miss MacDowlas know Mr. Gowan, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + Griffith started and changed countenance at once. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “He was there,” she said, listlessly. “I met him in the hall as I came + out, but he did not see me. He must have tried to get an invitation + because—well, you know how he likes Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + And thus, the train having been already laid, was the spark applied. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + </h2> + <p> + IT was some time before Griffith recovered from the effects of this simple + announcement of Mollie's. + </p> + <p> + Though he scarcely confessed as much to himself, he thought of it very + much oftener than was conducive to his own peace of mind, and in thinking + of it he found it assuming a greater importance and significance than he + had at first recognized in it, and was influenced accordingly. He went + home to his lodgings, depressed and heavy of spirit; in fact, he left + Bloomsbury Place earlier than usual, because he longed to be alone. He + could think of nothing but Dolly,—Dolly in the white merino, shining + like a stray star among her employer's guests, and gladdening the eyes of + Ralph Gowan. He knew so well how she would look, and how this fellow would + follow her in his easy fashion, without rendering himself noticeable, and + manage to be near her through the evening and hold his place as if he had + a right to it, and he knew, too, how natural it would be for Dolly's eyes + to light up in her pleasure at being saved from boredom, and how her + innocent gladness would show itself in a score of pretty ways. And it was + as Mollie said,—it was for Dolly's sake that Ralph Gowan was there + to-night. + </p> + <p> + “She must know that it is so herself,” he groaned, dropping his head upon + the table; “but she cannot help it. She would if she could. Yes, I 'll + believe that. She could never be false to me. I must hold fast to that in + spite of everything. I should go mad if I did n't. I could never lose you, + Dolly,—I could never lose you!” + </p> + <p> + But he groaned again the next moment from the bottom of his desperate + heart. He had become tangled in yet another web of misery. + </p> + <p> + “It is only another proof of what I have said a thousand times,” he cried + out. “My claim upon her is so weak, that this fellow does not think it + worth regarding. He thinks it may be set aside,—they all think it + may be set aside. I should not wonder,” clenching his hand and speaking + through his teeth,—"I should not wonder if he has laughed many a + time at his fancy of how it will end, and how easy it will be to thrust + the old love to the wall!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, in the first rankling sting of humiliation and despair, he + could almost have struck a murderous blow at the man whom fortune had set + on such a pinnacle of pride and insolence, as it seemed to his galled + fancy. He was not in the mood to be either just or generous, and he saw in + Ralph Gowan nothing but a man who had both the power and will to rival + him, and rob him of peace and hope forever. If Dolly had been with him, in + all probability his wretchedness would have evaporated in a harmless + outburst, which would have touched the girl's heart so tenderly that she + would have withheld nothing of love and consolation which could reassure + him, and so in the end the tempest would have left no wound behind. But as + it was left to himself and his imaginings, every thought held its bitter + sting. He was, as it were, upon the brink of an abyss. + </p> + <p> + And while this danger was threatening her, Dolly was setting herself + steadfastly to her task of entertaining her employer's guests, though it + must be confessed that she found it necessary to summon all her energies. + She was thinking of Griffith, but not as Griffith was thinking of her. She + was picturing him looking desolate among the group round the fire at + Bloomsbury Place, or else working desperately and with unnecessary energy + amidst the dust and gloom of the dimly lighted office; and the result was + that her spirit almost failed. It was quite a relief to encounter Ralph + Gowan, as she did, on entering the room: he had seen them all latterly, + and could enter into particulars; and so, in her pleasure, it must be + owned that her face brightened, just as Griffith had fancied it would, + when she shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear that you were coming,” she said. “How glad I am!” which + was the most dangerous speech she could have made under the circumstances, + since it was purely on her account that he had diplomatized to obtain the + invitation. + </p> + <p> + He did not find it easy to release her hand all at once, and certainly he + lighted up also. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me tell you that it was not Miss MacDowlas who brought me + here?” he said, in a low voice; “though I appreciate her kindness, as a + grateful man ought. Vagabondia is desolate without you.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to laugh, but could not; her attempt broke off in the + unconscious sigh, which always touched him, he scarcely knew why. + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” she said, looking up at him without a bit of the old brightness. + “Don't tell them, Mr. Gowan, but the fact is I am desolate without it. I + want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + He felt his heart leap suddenly, and before he could check himself he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I wish—I <i>wish</i>,” he said, “that you would let me take you + home.” And the simply sounding words embodied a great deal more of tender + fancy than a careless observer would have imagined; and Dolly, recognizing + the thrill in his voice, was half startled. + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head, and managed to smile. + </p> + <p> + “That is not wisdom,” she said. “It savors of the lilies of the field. We + cannot quarrel with our bread and butter for sentiment's sake in + Vagabondia. Did you know that Mollie had paid me a visit this evening?—or + perhaps you saw her; I think she went out as you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” he said, surprisedly; and then looking half annoyed, or at least + a trifle disturbed, he added, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, + “then it was Mollie, Chandos spoke of.” + </p> + <p> + “Chandos!” echoed Dolly. “Who is Chandos—and what did Chandos say + about Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + He glanced across the room to where a tall, handsome man was bending over + a fussy little woman in pink. + </p> + <p> + “That is Chandos,” he said; “and since you spoke of Mollie's visit, I + recollect that, as we came into the house, Chandos was behind me and + lingered a moment or so, and when he came to me afterward he asked if I + had seen the face that passed us as we entered. It had roused his + enthusiasm as far as it can be roused by anything.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been Mollie,” commented Dolly, and she looked at the man on + the opposite side of the room, uneasily. “Is he a friend of yours?” she + asked, after scrutinizing him for a few seconds. + </p> + <p> + Gowan shrugged his shoulders.' + </p> + <p> + “Not a friend,” he answered, dryly. “An acquaintance. We have not much in + common.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” was Dolly's return. “I don't like Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + She could not have explained why she did not like him, but certainly she + was vaguely repelled and could not help hoping that he would never see + Mollie again. He was just the man to be dangerous to Mollie; handsome, + polished, ready of speech and perfect in manner, he was the sort of man to + dazzle and flatter any ignorant, believing child. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, half aloud, “I could not bear to think that he would + see her again.” + </p> + <p> + She uttered the words quite involuntarily, but Gowan heard them, and + looked at her in some surprise, and so awakened her from her reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Are you speaking of Mollie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, candidly, “though I did not mean to speak aloud. My + thoughts were only a mental echo of the remark I made a moment ago,—that + I don't like Chandos. I do not like him at all, even at this distance, and + I cannot resist feeling that I do not want him to see anything more of + Mollie. We are not very discreet, we Vagabonds, but we must learn wisdom + enough to shield Mollie.” And she sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “I understand that,” he said, almost tenderly, so sympathetically, in + fact, that she turned toward him as if moved by a sudden impulse. + </p> + <p> + “I have sometimes thought since I came here,” she said, “that perhaps <i>you</i> + might help me a little, if you would. She is so pretty, you see, and so + young, and, through knowing so little of the world and longing to know so + much, in a childish, half-dazzled way, is so innocently wilful that she + would succumb to a novel influence more readily than to an old one. So I + have thought once or twice of asking you to watch her a little, and guard + her if—if you should ever see her in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I can promise to do that much, at least,” he returned, smiling. + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand impetuously, just as she would have held it out to + Griffith, and, oh, the hazard of it,—the hazard of so throwing aside + her mock airs and graces, and showing herself to him just as she showed + herself to the man she loved,—the Dolly whose heart was on her lips + and whose soul was in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then we will make a 'paction' of it,” she said. “You will help me to take + care of her.” + </p> + <p> + “For your sake,” he said, “there are few things I would not do.” + </p> + <p> + So from that time forward he fell into the habit of regarding unsuspecting + Mollie as his own special charge. He was so faithful to his agreement, + indeed, that once or twice Griffith was almost ready to console himself + with the thought that perhaps, after all, the child's beauty and + tractability would win its way, and Gowan would find himself seriously + touched at heart. Just now he could see that his manner was scarcely that + of a lover, but there most assuredly was a probability that it might alter + and become more warm and less friendly and platonic. As to Mollie herself, + she was growing a trifle incomprehensible; she paid more attention to her + lovely hair than she had been in the habit of doing, and was even known to + mend her gloves; she began to be more conscious of the dignity of her + seventeen years. She complained less petulantly of the attentions of + Phil's friends, and accepted them with a better grace. The wise one even + observed that she tolerated Brown, the obnoxious, and permitted him to + admire her—at a distance. In her intercourse with Gowan she was + capricious and had her moods. Sometimes she indulged in the weakness of + tiring herself in all her small bravery when he was coming, and presented + herself in the parlor beauteous and flushed and conscious, and was so + delectably shy and sweet that she betrayed him into numerous trifling + follies not at all consistent with his high position of mentor; and then, + again, she was obstinate, rather incomprehensible, and did not adorn + herself at all, and, indeed, was hard enough to manage. + </p> + <p> + “You are growing very queer, Mollie,” said Miss Aimée, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + To which sage remark Mollie retorted with a tremulous, sensitive flush, + and most unnecessary warmth of manner. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm not queer at all I wish you would n't bother so, Aimée!” + </p> + <p> + That very afternoon she came into the room with a card in her hand, after + going out to answer a summons at the door-bell. + </p> + <p> + “Phil,” she said, “a gentleman wants you. Chandos, the card says.” + </p> + <p> + “Chandos!” read Phil, rising from the comfort of his couch, and taking his + pipe out of his mouth. “Who knows Chandos?—I don't. It must be some + fellow on business.” + </p> + <p> + And so it proved. He found the gentleman awaiting him in the next room, + and in a very short time learned his errand. Chandos introduced himself—Gerald + Chandos, of The Pools, Bedfordshire, who, hearing of Mr. Crewe through + numerous friends, not specified, and having a fancy—quite the fancy + of an uncultured amateur, modestly—for pictures and an absorbing + passion for art in all its forms, had taken the liberty of calling, etc. + It was very smoothly said, and Chandos, of The Pools, being an imposing + patrician sort of individual, and free from all fopperies or affectations, + Phil met his advances complacently enough. It was no unusual thing for an + occasional patron to drop in after this manner. He had no fault to find + with a man who, having the good fortune to possess money, had the good + taste to know how to spend it. So he made friends with Chandos, pretty + much as he had made friends with Gowan,—pretty much as he would have + made friends with any other sufficiently amiable and well-bred visitor to + his modest studio. He showed him his pictures, and talked art to him, and + managed to spend an hour very pleasantly, ending by selling him a couple + of tiny spirited sketches, which had taken his fancy. It was when he was + taking down these sketches from the wall that he heard a sort of smothered + exclamation from the man, who stood a few feet apart from him, and, + turning to see what it meant, he saw that he had just discovered the + fresh, lovely, black-hooded head, with the trail of autumn leaves clinging + to the loose trail of hair,—the picture for which Mollie had sat as + model. It was very evident that Chandos, of The Pools, was admiring it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, the next minute. “I know this face. There can scarcely be + two faces like it.” + </p> + <p> + Phil left his sketches and came to him, the pleasure he felt on the + success of his creation warming him up. This picture, with Mollie's face + and head, was a great favorite of his. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, standing opposite to it, with his hands in his pockets, + and critical appreciation in his eyes. “You could not very well mistake + it. Heads are not my exact forte, you know; but that is Mollie to a tint + and a curve, and I am rather proud of it.” + </p> + <p> + Chandos regarded it steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “And well you may be,” he answered. “Your sister, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” exclaimed Phil, stepping a trifle aside, to get into a better + light, and speaking almost abstractedly. “Oh, yes, to be sure! She is my + sister,—the youngest. There are three of them. That flesh tint is + one of the best points.” + </p> + <p> + And in the meantime, while this apparently trivial conversation was being + carried on in the studio, Mollie, in the parlor, had settled herself upon + a stool close to the fire, and, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow + on her knee, was looking reflective. + </p> + <p> + “That Chandos is somebody new,” 'Toinette remarked. “I hope he has come to + buy something. I want some gold sleeve-loops for Tod. I saw some beauties + the other day, when I was out.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could n't afford them if Phil sold two pictures instead of one,” + said Aimée. “There are so many other useful things you need.” + </p> + <p> + “He is n't a stranger to me,” put in Mollie, suddenly. “I have seen him + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said 'Toinette. She was thinking more of Tod's gold sleeve-loops + than of anything else. + </p> + <p> + “This Mr. Chandos,” answered Mollie, without looking up from the fire. “I + saw him at Brabazon Lodge the night I went to take Dolly her dress. He was + with Mr. Gowan, and I dropped my glove, and he picked it up for me. I was + coming out as they were going in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Aimée, “whether Mr. Gowan goes to Brabazon Lodge often?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I 'm sure,” answered Mollie, shrugging her shoulder. “How + is one to learn? He would n't be likely to tell us. I should think, + though, that he does. He is too fond of Dolly"—with a slight choke + in her voice—"to stay away, if he can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's queer,” commented 'Toinette, “how men like Dolly. She is n't a + beauty, I 'm sure; and for the matter of that, when her hair is n't done + up right, she is n't even pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't queer, at all,” said Mollie, rather crossly; “it's her way. She + can make such a deal out of nothing, and she does n't stand at trouble + when she wants to <i>make</i> people like her. <i>She</i> says any one can + do it, and it is only a question of patience; but I don't believe her. See + how frantic Griffith is about her. He is more desperately in love with her + to-day than he was at the very first, seven years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And she cares more for him, I'm sure,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + Mollie's shoulder went up again. “She flirts with people enough, if she + does,” she commented. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” returned Aimée, “that is 'her way,' as you call it, again. Somehow, + it seems as if she can't help it. It is as natural to her as the color of + her hair and eyes. She can't help doing odd things and making speeches + that rouse people and tempt them into liking her. She has done such things + all her life, and sometimes I think she will do them even when she is an + old woman; though, of course, she will do them in a different way. Dolly + would n't be Dolly without her whimsicalness, any more than Dick there, in + his cage, would be a canary if he did n't twitter and sing.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she ever do such things to women?” asked Miss Mollie, shrewdly. She + seemed to be in a singular mood this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Aimée protested, “she does; and what is more, she is not different + even with children. I have seen her take just as much trouble to please + Phemie and the little Bilberrys as she would take to please Griffith or—or + Mr. Gowan. And see how fond they were of her. If she had cared for nothing + but masculine admiration, do you think Phemie would have adored her as she + did, and those dull children would have been so desolate when she left + them? No, I tell you. Dolly's weakness—and it isn't such a very + terrible weakness, after all—lies in wanting <i>everybody</i> to + like her,—men, women, and children; yes, down to babies and dogs and + cats. And see here, Mollie, ain't we rather fond of her ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” owned Mollie, staring at the fire, “we are. Fond enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And is n't she rather fond of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is—for the matter of that,” acquiesced Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” began 'Toinette, and then, the sound of footsteps upon the + staircase interrupting her, she broke off abruptly to listen. “It is + Phil's visitor,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mollie got up from her seat, roused into a lazy sort of interest. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to look at him,” she said, and went to the window. + </p> + <p> + The next minute she drew back, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “He saw me,” she said. “I did n't think he could, if I stood here in the + corner.” + </p> + <p> + But he had; and more than that, in his admiration of her dimples and round + fire-flushed cheeks, had smiled into her face, openly and without stint, + as he passed. + </p> + <p> + After tea Gowan came in. Mollie opened the door for him; and Mollie, in a + soft blue dress, and with her hair dressed to a marvel, was a vision to + have touched any man's fancy. She was in one of her sweet acquiescent + moods, too, having recovered herself since the afternoon; and when she led + him into the parlor, she blushed without any reason whatever, as usual, + and as a consequence looked enchanting. + </p> + <p> + “Phil has gone out,” she said. “'Toinette is putting Tod to bed, and Aimée + is helping her; so there is no one here but me.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan sat down—in Dolly's favorite chair. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite enough,” he said; “quite enough—for me.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away, making a transparent little pretence of requiring a + hand-screen from the mantelpiece, and, having got it, she too sat down, + and fell to examining a wretched little daub of a picture upon it most + minutely. + </p> + <p> + “This is very badly done,” she observed, irrelevantly. “Dolly did it, and + made it up elaborately into this screen because it was such a sight. It is + just like Dolly, to make fun and joke at her own mistakes. She has n't a + particle of talent for drawing. She did this once when Griffith thought he + was going to get into something that would bring him money enough to allow + of their being married. She made a whole lot of little mats and things to + put in their house when they got it, but Griffith did n't get the + position, so they had to settle down again.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” ejaculated Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He moved a trifle uneasily in his chair. He had not meant to speak aloud. + </p> + <p> + “An unintentional outburst, Mollie,” he said. “A cheerful state of + affairs, that.” + </p> + <p> + “What state of affairs?” she inquired. “Oh, you mean Dolly's engagement. + Well, of course, it <i>has</i> been a long one; but then, you see, they + like each other very much. Aimée was only saying this afternoon that they + cared for each other more now than they did at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they?” said Gowan, and for the time being lapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + “It's a cross-grained sort of fortune that seems to control us in this + world, Mollie,” he said, at length. + </p> + <p> + Mollie stared at the poor little daub on her hand-screen and met his + philosophy indifferently enough. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> ought n't to say so,” she answered. “And I don't know anything + about it.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed—quite savagely for so amiable a young man. + </p> + <p> + “I!” he repeated. “I ought not to say so, ought n't I? I think I ought. It + <i>is</i> a cross-grained fortune, Mollie. We are always falling in love + with people who do not care for us, or with people who care for some one + else, or with people who are too poor to marry us, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for yourself,” said Mollie, with a vigor quite wonderful and new in + her. “<i>I</i> am not.” + </p> + <p> + And she held her screen up between her face and his, so that he could not + see her. She could have burst into a passionate gush of tears. It was + Dolly he was thinking about,—it was Dolly who had the power to make + him unhappy and sardonic,—always Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a wise child, Mollie,” he said. “But you are a very young + child yet,—only seventeen, is n't it? Well, it may all come in good + time.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not come at all,” she asserted, stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + Dolly's little wretch of a hand-screen was quite trembling in her hand, it + made her so desperate to feel, as she did, that she was of such small + consequence to him that he could treat her as a child, and make a sort of + joke of his confidence. But he did not see it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well, you see,” he went on, “I thought so once, but it has come to me + nevertheless. The fact is, I am crying for the moon, Mollie, as many a + wiser and better man has done before me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, so he rose and walked once or twice across the room. + When he came back to the fire, she had risen too, and was standing up, + biting the edge of her screen, all flushed, and with a brightness in her + eyes he did not understand. Poor little soul! she was suffering very + sharply in her childish way. + </p> + <p> + He laid a hand on either of her shoulders, and spoke to her gently enough. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “let us sit down together and condole with each other. + You are not in a good humor to-night, something has rasped you again; and + as for me, I am about as miserable, my dear, as it is possible for a man + with a few thousand a year to be.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to answer him steadily, and, finding she could not, rushed into + novel subterfuge. Subterfuge was a novelty to Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, lifting the most beauteous of tear-wet eyes to his quite + eagerly. “Yes, I am crossed, and—and something has vexed me. I am + getting bad-tempered, I think. Suppose we do sit down.” + </p> + <p> + And then when they did sit down—she on the hearth-rug at his feet, + he in Dolly's chair again—she broke out upon him in a voice like a + sharp little sob. + </p> + <p> + “I know what <i>you</i> are miserable about,” she said. “You are miserable + about Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + They had never spoken about the matter openly before, though he had always + felt that if he could speak openly to any one, he could to this charming + charge of his. Such is the keenness of masculine penetration. And now he + felt almost relieved already. The natural craving for sympathy of some + kind or other was to satisfy itself through the medium of pretty, + much-tried Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, half desperately, half reluctantly. “Dolly is the moon + I am crying for,—or rather, as I might put it more poetically, 'the + bright particular star.' What a good little thing you are to guess at it + so soon!” + </p> + <p> + “It did n't need much guessing at,” she said, curving her innocent mouth + in a piteous effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + He, leaning against the round, padded back of his chair, sighed, and as he + sighed almost forgot the poor child altogether, even while she spoke to + him. Having all things else, he must still cry for this one other gift, + and really he felt very dolorous. + </p> + <p> + Mollie, pulling her screen to pieces, looked at him with a heavy yet + adoring heart. She was young enough to be greatly moved by his physical + beauty, and just now she could not turn away from him. His long-limbed, + slender figure (which, while still graceful and lithe enough, was <i>not</i> + a model of perfection, as she fondly imagined), his pale, dark face, his + dark eyes, even his rather impolite and uncomplimentary abstraction, held + fascination for her. Not having been greatly smiled upon by fortune, she + had fallen to longing eagerly and fearfully for this one gift which had + been so freely vouchsafed to Dolly, who had neither asked nor cared for + it. Surely there was some cross-grained fate at work. + </p> + <p> + She was very quiet indeed when he at length recollected himself and roused + from his reverie. He looked up to find her resting her warm, rose-leaf + colored cheek on her hand, and concentrating all her attention upon the + fire again. She was not inclined to talk when he spoke to her, and indeed + had so far shrunk within herself that he found it necessary to exert his + powers to their utmost before he could move her to anything like interest + in their usual topics of conversation. In fact, her reserve entailed the + necessity of a little hazardous warmth of manner being exhibited on his + part, and in the end a few more dangerous, though half-jocular, speeches + were made, and in spite of the temporary dissatisfaction of his previous + mood, he felt a trifle reluctant to leave the fire and the sweet, unwise + face when the time came to go. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” he said to her, a few minutes before he went out. And then, + noticing for the twentieth time how becoming the soft blue of her dress + was and how picturesque she was herself even in the unconsciousness of her + posture, he was tempted to try to bring that little, half-resentful glow + into her upraised eyes again. + </p> + <p> + “I have often heard your sister make indiscreetly amiable speeches to you, + Mollie,” he said. “Did she ever tell you that you ought to have been born + a sultana?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and pouted a little. + </p> + <p> + “I should n't like to be a sultana,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Not a sultana in spangled slippers and gorgeous + robes!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, with a spice of Dolly in her speech. “The slippers are + great flat things that turn up at the toes, and the sultan might buy me + for so much a pound, and—and I care for other things besides dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” he returned, “you would have made a dazzling sultana.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went away and left her, and she sat down upon her stool before the + fire again and began to pull her hair down and let it hang in grand + disorder about her shoulders and over her face. + </p> + <p> + “If I am so—so pretty,” she said slowly, to herself, “people ought + to like me, and,” sagaciously, “I must be pretty or he would not say so.” + </p> + <p> + And when she went to her room it must be confessed that she crept to the + glass and stared at the reflection of the face framed in the abundant, + falling hair, until Aimée, wondering at her quietness, raised her head + from her pillow, and, seeing her, called her to her senses. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, in her quietest way, “you look very nice, my dear and + very picturesque, and I don't wonder at your admiring yourself; but if you + stand there much longer in your bare feet you will have influenza, and + then you will have to wear a flannel round your throat, and your nose will + be red, and you won't derive much satisfaction from your looking-glass for + a week to come.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + </h2> + <p> + “SOMETHING,” announced Phil, painting away industriously at his picture,—"something + is up with Grif. Can any of you explain what it is?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, resting her elbows on the window-ledge, turned her head over her + shoulder; 'Toinette, tying Tod's sleeves with red ribbon, looked up; Aimée + went on with her sewing, the two little straight lines making themselves + visible on her forehead between her eyebrows. The fact of something being + “up” with any one of their circle was enough to create a wondering + interest. + </p> + <p> + “There is no denying,” Phil proceeded, “that he is changed somehow or + other. He is not the same fellow that he was a few months ago,—before + Dolly went away.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Dolly he is bothering about,” said Mollie, concisely. + </p> + <p> + Then Aimée was roused. + </p> + <p> + “I wish they were married,” she said. “I wish they were married and—safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” put in Mrs. Phil. “That is a queer thing to say. They are not in + any danger, let us devoutly hope.” + </p> + <p> + The two wrinkles deepened, and the wise one sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” she answered, bending her small, round, anxious face over + her sewing, and attacking it vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “They never struck me, you know,” returned Mrs. Phil, “as being a + particularly dangerous couple, though now I think of it I do remember that + it has once or twice occurred to me that Griffith has been rather stupid + lately.” + </p> + <p> + “It has occurred to me,” remarked Phil, dryly, “that he has taken a most + unaccountable dislike to Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie turned round to her window again. + </p> + <p> + “Not to put it too strongly,” continued the head of the family, “he hates + him like the deuce.” + </p> + <p> + And he was not far wrong in making the assertion. The time had been coming + for some time when the course of this unimposing story of true love was no + longer to run smooth, and in these days Griffith was in a dangerous frame + of mind. Now and then he heard of Gowan dropping in to spend a few hours + at Brabazon Lodge, and now and then he heard of his good fortune in having + found in Miss MacDowlas a positive champion. He was even a favorite with + her, just as he was a favorite with many other people. Griffith did not + visit Brabazon Lodge himself, he had given that up long ago, indeed had + only once paid his respects to his relative since her arrival in London. + That one visit, short and ceremonious as it was, had been enough for him. + Like many estimable ladies, Miss MacDowlas had prejudices of her own which + were hard to remove, and appearances had been against her nephew. + </p> + <p> + “If he is living a respectable life, and so engaged in a respectable + profession, my dear,” commented Dolly's proprietress, in one of her after + conversations on the subject, “why does he look shabby and out at elbows? + It is my opinion that he is a very disreputable young man.” + </p> + <p> + “She thinks,” wrote Dolly to the victim, “that you waste your substance in + riotous living.” And it was such an exquisite satire on the true state of + affairs, that even Griffith forgot his woes for the moment, and laughed + when he read the letter. + </p> + <p> + Dolly herself was not prone to complain of Miss MacDowlas. She was not so + bad as she looked, after all. She was obstinate and rigid enough on some + points, but she had her fairer side, and Dolly found it. In a fashion of + her own Miss MacDowlas was rather fond of her companion. A girl who was + shrewd, industrious, and often amusing, was not to be despised in her + opinion; so she showed her fair young handmaiden a certain amount of + respect. She had engaged companions before, who being entertaining were + not trustworthy, or being trustworthy were insufferably dull. She could + trust Dolly with the most onerous of her domestic or social charges, she + found, and there was no fear of her small change disappearing or her + visitors being bored. So the position of that “young person” became an + assured and decently comfortable one. + </p> + <p> + But, day by day, Griffith was drifting nearer and nearer the old shoals of + difficulty. He rasped himself with miserable imaginings, and was often + unjust even toward Dolly. Hers was the brighter side of the matter, he + told himself. + </p> + <p> + She was sure to find friends,—she always did, these people would + make a sort of favorite of her, and she would be pleased because she was + so popular among them. He could not bear the thought of her ephemeral + happiness over trifles sometimes. He even fell so low as that at his worst + moments, though to his credit, be it spoken, he was always thoroughly + ashamed of himself afterward. There were times, too, when he half resented + her little jokes at their poverty, and answered them bitterly when he + wrote his replies to her letters. His chief consolation he found in Aimée, + and the sage of the family found her hands fuller than ever. Quiet little + body as she was, she was far-sighted enough to see danger in the distance, + and surely she did her best to alter its course. + </p> + <p> + “If you are not cooler,” she would say, “you will work yourself into such + a fever of unhappiness, that you will be doing something you will regret.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I am afraid of,” he would sometimes burst forth; “but you + must admit, Aimée, that it is a pretty hard case.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” confessed the young oracle, “I will admit that, but being + unreasonable won't make it any easier.” + </p> + <p> + And then the fine little lines would show themselves, and she would set + herself industriously to the task of administering comfort and practical + advice, and she never failed to cheer him a little, however temporarily. + </p> + <p> + And she did not fail Dolly, either. Sage axioms and praiseworthy counsel + reached Brabazon Lodge in divers small envelopes, addressed to Miss Crewe, + and invariably beginning, “My dearest Dolly;” and more than once + difficulty had been averted, and Dolly's heart warmed again toward her + lover, when she had been half inclined to rebel and exhibit some slight + sharpness of temper. Only a few days after the conversation with which the + present chapter opens occurred, one of these modestly powerful missives + was forwarded, and that evening Griffith met with an agreeable surprise. + Chance had taken him into the vicinity of Miss MacDowlas's establishment, + and as he walked down the deserted road in a somewhat gloomy frame of + mind, he became conscious suddenly of the sound of small, light feet, + running rapidly down the footpath behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Griffith!” cried a clear, softly pitched voice, “Griffith, wait for me.” + </p> + <p> + And, turning, he saw in the dusk of the winter day a little figure almost + flying toward him, and in a few seconds more Dolly was standing by him, + laughing and panting, and holding to his arm with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should never catch you,” she said. “You never walked so fast + in your life, I believe, you stupid old fellow. I could n't call out loud, + though it is a quiet place, and so I had to begin to run. Goodness! what + <i>would</i> Lady Augusta have said if she had seen me flying after you!” + </p> + <p> + And then, stopping all at once, she looked up at him with a wicked little + air of saucy daring. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to kiss me?” she said. “You may, if you will endeavor to + effect it with despatch before somebody comes.” + </p> + <p> + She was obliged to resign herself to her fate then. For nearly two minutes + she found herself rendered almost invisible, and neither of them spoke. + Then half released, she lifted her face to look at him, and there were + tears on her eyelashes, and in her voice, too, though she was trying very + hard to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old fellow,” she half whispered. “Has it seemed long since you + kissed me last?” + </p> + <p> + He caught her to his breast again in his old, impetuous fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Long!” he groaned. “It has seemed so long that there have been times when + it has almost driven me mad. O Dolly! Dolly!” + </p> + <p> + She let him crush her in his arms and kiss her again, and she nestled + against his shoulder for a minute, and, putting her warm little gloved + hand up to his face, gave it a tiny, loving squeeze. But of course that + could not last long. Miss Macdowlas's companion might be kissed in the + dusk two or three times, but, genteelly sequestered as was the road + leading to Brabazon Lodge, some stray footman or housemaid might appear on + the scene, from some of the neighboring establishments, at any moment, so + she was obliged to draw herself away at last. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said, “you must let me take your arm and walk on now, and you + must tell me all about things. I have a few minutes to spare, and I have + <i>so</i> wanted you,” heaving a weary little sigh, and holding his arm + very tightly indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he asked, abruptly, “are you sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + The other small hand clasped itself across his sleeve in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Sure?” she answered. “Sure that I have wanted you? I have been nearly <i>dying</i> + for you!” with some affectionate extravagance. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure,” he put it to her, “quite sure that you have not sometimes + forgotten me for an hour or so?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, indignantly, “not for a single second;” which was a + wide assertion. + </p> + <p> + “Not,” he prompted her, somewhat bitterly, “when the MacDowlas gives + dinner-parties, and you find yourself a prominent feature, 'young person,' + as you are? Not when you wear the white merino, and 'heavy swells' admire + you openly?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” shaking her head in stout denial of the imputation. “Never. I think + about you from morning until night; and the fact is,” in a charming burst + of candor, “I actually wake in the night and think about you. There! are + you satisfied now?” + </p> + <p> + It would have been impossible to remain altogether unconsoled and unmoved + under such circumstances, but he could not help trying her again. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “does Gowan never make you forget me?” + </p> + <p> + Then she saw what he meant, and flushed up to her forehead, drawing her + hand away and speaking hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “it is <i>that</i>, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered her, “it is that.” + </p> + <p> + Then they stopped in their walk, and each looked at the other,—Griffith + at Dolly, with a pale face and much of desperate, passionate appeal in his + eyes; Dolly at Griffith, with her small head thrown back in sudden + defiance. + </p> + <p> + “I am making you angry and rousing you, Dolly,” he said; “but I cannot + help it. There is scarcely a week passes in which I do not hear that he—that + fellow—has managed to see you in one way or another. He can always + see you,” savagely. “<i>I</i> don't see you once a month.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dolly, with cruel deliberation, “<i>this</i> is what Aimée + meant when she told me to be careful, and think twice before I did things. + I see now.” + </p> + <p> + I have never yet painted Dolly Crewe as being a young person of angelic + temperament. I have owned that she flirted and had a temper in spite of + her Vagabondian good spirits, good-nature, and popularity; so my readers + will not be surprised at her resenting rather sharply what she considered + as being her lover's lack of faith. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she proceeded, opening her eyes wide and addressing him with + her grandest air,—"I think I will walk the rest of my way alone, if + you please.” + </p> + <p> + It was very absurd and very tragical in a small way, of course, and + assuredly she ought to have known better, and perhaps she did know better, + but just now she was very fierce and very sharply disappointed. She + positively turned away as if to leave him, but he caught hold of her arm + and held her. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he cried, huskily, “you are not going away in that fashion. We + never parted so in our lives.” + </p> + <p> + She half relented,—not quite, but nearly, so very nearly that she + did not try very hard to get away. It was Griffith, after all, who was + trying her patience—if Gowan or any other man on earth had dared to + imply a doubt in her, she would have routed him magnificently—in two + minutes; but Griffith—ah, well, Griffith was different. + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault is it?” she asked, breaking down ignominiously. “Who is to + blame? I never ask you if other people make you forget me. I wanted to—to + see you so much that I—I ran madly after you for a quarter of a + mile, at the risk of being looked upon as a lunatic by any one who might + have chanced to see me. But you don't care for that. I had better have + bowed to you and passed on if we had met. Let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Griffith, “you shall not go. God knows if I could keep you, you + should never leave my arms again.” + </p> + <p> + “You would tire of me in a week, if I belonged to you in real earnest,” + she said, not trying to get away at all now, however. + </p> + <p> + “Tire of you!” he exclaimed, in a shaken voice. “Of <i>you!</i>” And all + at once he drew her round so that the light of the nearest lamp could fall + on her face. “Look here!” he whispered, sharply; “Dolly, I swear to you, + that if there lives a man on earth base and heartless enough to rob me of + you, I will kill him as sure as I breathe the breath of life!” + </p> + <p> + She had seen him impassioned enough often before, but she had never seen + him in as wild a mood as he was when he uttered these words. She was so + frightened that she broke into a little cry, and put her hand up to his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Griffith!” she said, “Grif!—dear old fellow. You don't know what + you are saying. Oh! don't—don't!” + </p> + <p> + Her horror brought him to his senses again; but he had terrified her so + that she was trembling all over, and clung to him nervously when he tried + to console her. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't like <i>you</i> to speak in such a way,” she faltered, in the + midst of her tears. “Oh, how dreadfully wrong things must be getting, to + make you so cruel!” + </p> + <p> + It took so long a time to reassure and restore her to her calmness, that + he repented his rashness a dozen times. But he managed to comfort her at + length, though to the last she was tearful and dejected, and her voice was + broken with soft, sorrowful little catchings of the breath. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us talk about Ralph Gowan,” she pleaded, when he had persuaded + her to walk on with him again. “Let us talk about ourselves,—we are + always safe when we talk about ourselves,” with an innocent, mournful + smile. + </p> + <p> + And so they talked about themselves. He would have talked of anything on + earth to please her then. Talking of themselves, of course, implied + talking nonsense,—affectionate, sympathetic nonsense, but still + nonsense; and so, for a while, they strolled on together, and were as + tenderly foolish and disconnected as two people could possibly be. + </p> + <p> + But, in spite of her resolution to avoid the subject, Dolly could not help + drifting back to Ralph Gowan. “Griffith,” she said, plaintively, “you are + very jealous of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “But don't you <i>know</i>,” in desperate appeal, “that there is n't the + slightest need for you to be jealous of anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he returned, dejectedly, “that I am a very wretched fellow + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” sighed Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he went on, “that seven years is a long probation, and that the + prospect of another seven, or another two, for the matter of that, would + drive me mad. I know I am growing envious and distrustful; I know that + there are times when I hate that fellow so savagely that I am ashamed of + myself. Dolly, what has he ever done that he should saunter on the sunny + side, clad in purple and fine linen all his life? The money he throws away + in a year would furnish the house at Putney.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” burst forth Dolly. “You <i>are</i> going wrong. It is all + because I am not there to take care of you, too. Those are not the + sentiments of Vagabondia, Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” dryly; “they are of the earth, earthy.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shook her head dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she acquiesced; “and they are a bit shabby, too. You are going + down, Grif. You never used to be shabby. None of us were ever exactly + that, though we used to grumble sometimes. We used to grumble, not because + other people had things, but because we had n't them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am getting hardened, I suppose,” bitterly. “And it is hardly to be + wondered at.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardened!” She stopped him that moment, and stood before him, holding his + arm and looking up at him. “Hardened!” she repeated. “Grif, if you say + that again, I will never forgive you. What is the good of our love for + each other if it won't keep our hearts soft? When we get hardened we shall + love each other no longer. What have we told each other all these years? + Have n't we said that so long as we had one another we could bear + anything, and not envy other people? It was n't all talk and sentiment, + was it? It was n't on <i>my</i> part, Grif. I meant it then, and I mean it + now, though I know there are many good, kind-hearted people in the world + who would not understand it, and would say I was talking unpractical + rubbish, if they heard me. Hardened! Grif, while you have me, and I have + you, and there is nothing on our two consciences? Why, it sounds,"—with + another most dubious shake of her small head,—"it sounds as if you + would n't care about the house at Putney!” + </p> + <p> + He was conquered, of course; before she had spoken a dozen words he had + been conquered; but this figure of his not caring for the house at Putney + broke him utterly. He did not look very hardened when he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “you are an angel! I have told you so before, and it may + be a proof of the barrenness of my resources to tell you so again, but it + is true. God forgive me, my precious! I should like to see the man whose + heart could harden while such a woman loved him.” + </p> + <p> + It was a pretty sight to see her put her hands on his shoulders, and stand + on tiptoe to kiss him, in her honest, earnest way, without waiting for him + to ask her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “I knew it wasn't true,” and then, still letting her hands + rest on his shoulders, she burst forth in her tender, impulsive way again. + “Grif,” she said, “I don't think I am very wise, and I know I am not very + thoughtful. I do things often that it would be better to leave undone,—I + am fond of making the Philistines admire me, and I sometimes tease you; + but, dear old fellow, right deep down at the bottom of my heart,” + faltering slightly, “I do—<i>do</i> want to be a good woman; and + there is never a night passes—though I never told you so before—that + I do not pray to God to let me help you and let you help me to be tender + and faithful and true.” + </p> + <p> + It was the old story,—love was king. Wisdom to the winds! + Practicality to the corners of the earth! Prudence, power, and grandeur, + hide your diminished heads! Here were two people who cared nothing for + you, and who flung you aside without a fear as they stood together under + the trees in the raw evening air,—one a penniless little hired + entertainer of elderly ladies, the other an equally impecunious bondsman + in a dingy office. + </p> + <p> + They were quite happy,—even happy when time warned them that they + must bid each other goodnight. They walked together to the gates of + Barbazon Lodge, and parted in a state of bliss. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Dolly. “Be good,—as somebody wise once said,—'Be + good, and you will be happy.'” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” answered Griffith; “but might n't he have put it the other + way, Dolly, 'Be happy, and you will be good—because you can't help + it'?” + </p> + <p> + He had his hand on <i>her</i> shoulder, this time, and as she laughed she + put her face down so that her soft, warm cheek nestled against it. + </p> + <p> + “But he didn't put it that way,” she objected. “And we must take wisdom as + it comes. There! I must go now,” rather in a hurry. “Some one is coming—see!” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” he observed, devoutly. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” answered Dolly; “but you must let me go. Good-night, + again.” + </p> + <p> + He released her, and she ran in through the gate, and up the gravel walk, + and so he was left to turn away and pass the intruder with an appearance + of nonchalance. And pass him he did, though whether with successful + indifference or not, one can hardly say; but in passing him he looked up, + and in looking up he recognized Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “Going to see her,” he said, to himself, just as poor Mollie had said the + same thing, and just with the same heartburn. “The dev—But, no,” he + broke off sharply, “I won't begin again. It is as she says,—the + blessed little darling!—it is shabby to be down on him because he + has the best of it.” And he went on his way, not rejoicing, it is true, + but still trying to crush down a by no means unnatural feeling of + rebellion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + </h2> + <p> + THE wise one sat at the window and looked out. The view commanded by + Bloomsbury Place was not a specially imposing or attractive one. Four or + five tall, dingy houses with solitary scrubby shrubs in their small front + slips of low-spirited looking gardens, four or five dingy and tall houses + without the scrubby shrubs in their small front slips of low-spirited + looking gardens, rows of Venetian blinds of various shades, and one or two + lamp-posts,—not much to enliven the prospect. + </p> + <p> + The inhabitants of the houses in Bloomsbury Place were not prone to + sitting at their front windows, accordingly; but this special afternoon, + the weather being foggy, Aimée finding herself alone in the parlor, had + left the fire just to look at this same fog, though it was by no means a + novelty. The house was very quiet. 'Toinette was out, and so was Mollie, + and Tod was asleep, lying upon a collection of cushions on the hearth-rug, + with two fingers in his mouth, his round baby face turned up luxuriously + to catch the warmth. + </p> + <p> + The wise one was waiting for Mollie, who had gone out a few hours before + to execute divers commissions of a domestic nature. + </p> + <p> + “She might have been back in half the time,” murmured the family sage, who + sat on the carpet, flattening her small features against the glass. “She + might have done what she has to do in <i>less</i> than half the time, but + I knew how it would be when she went out. She is looking in at the shop + windows and wishing for things. I wish she would n't. People stare at her + so, and I don't wonder. I am sure I cannot help watching her myself, + sometimes. She grows prettier every day of her life, and she is beginning + to know that she does, too.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes after this the small face was drawn away from the window-pane + with a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “There she is now. What a time she has been! Who is with her, I wonder? I + cannot see whether it is Phil or Mr. Gowan, it is getting so dark. It must + be Mr. Gowan. 'Toinette would be with them if it was Phil.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mollie,” she exclaimed, when the door opened, “I saw somebody with + you, and I thought it was Mr. Gowan. Why did n't he come in? Don't waken + Tod.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie came in rather hurriedly, and going to the fire knelt down before + it, holding out her hands to warm them. Her cheeks were brilliant with + color and her eyes were bright; altogether, she looked a trifle excited. + </p> + <p> + “It was n't Mr. Gowan,” she answered. “Ugh! how cold it is,—not + frosty, you know, but that raw sort of cold, Aimée. I would rather have + the frost myself, would n't you?” + </p> + <p> + But Aimée was not thinking of the weather. + </p> + <p> + “Not Mr. Gowan!” she ejaculated. “Who was it, then?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie crept nearer to the fire and gave another little shudder. + </p> + <p> + “It was—somebody else,” she returned, with a triumphant little + half-laugh. “Guess who!” + </p> + <p> + “Who!” repeated Aimée. “Somebody else! It was not any one I know.” + </p> + <p> + “It was somebody Phil knows.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one arose and came to the fire herself. + </p> + <p> + “It was some one taller than Brown!” + </p> + <p> + “Brown!” echoed Mollie, with an air of supreme contempt. “He is <i>twice</i> + as tall. Brown is only about five feet high, and he wears an overcoat ten + times too big for him, and it flaps—yes, it <i>flaps</i> about his + odious little heels. I should think it wasn't Brown. It was a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one regarded her pretty, scornful face dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Brown is n't so bad as all that implies, Mollie,” she said. “His coat is + the worst part of him. But if it was n't Brown and it was n't Mr. Gowan, + who was it?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie laughed and shrugged her shoulders again, and then looked up at her + small inquisitor charmingly defiant. + </p> + <p> + “It was—Mr. Chandos!” she confessed. + </p> + <p> + Aimée gazed at her for a moment in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she objected, “you don't know him any more than I do. You have only + seen him once through the window, and you have never been introduced to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him twice,” said Mollie. “Don't you recollect my telling you + that he picked up my glove for me the night I carried Dolly's dress to + Bra-bazon Lodge, and,” faltering a little and dropping her eyes, “he + introduced himself to me. He met me in town. I was passing through the + Arcade, and he stopped to ask about Phil. He apologized, of course, you + know, for doing it, but he said he was very anxious to know when Phil + would be at home, and—and perhaps I would be so kind as to tell him. + He wants to see him about a picture. And—then, you know, somehow or + other, he said something else, and—and I answered him—and he + walked to the gate with me.” + </p> + <p> + “He took a great liberty,” said Aimée. “And it was very imprudent in you + to let him come. I don't know what you could be thinking of. The idea of + picking up people in the street like that, Mollie; you must be crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “I could n't help it,” returned Mollie, not appearing at all disturbed. + “He knows Phil and he knows Dolly—a little. And he is very nice. He + wants to know us all. And he says Mr. Gowan is one of his best friends. I + liked him myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you did,” despairingly. “You are such a child. You would like + the man in the moon or a Kaffre chief—” + </p> + <p> + “That is not true,” interposed the delinquent. “I don't know about the man + in the moon. He might be well enough—at any rate, he would be + travelled and a novelty, but Kaffre chiefs are odious. Don't you remember + those we saw last winter?” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” said Aimée, “you are only jesting because you are ashamed of + yourself. You <i>know</i> you were wrong to let that man come home with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mollie hung her head and made a lovely rebellious move. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” she said; “if it was n't exactly correct, it was nice. But + that is always the way,” indignantly, “nice things are always improper.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a defection for you. The oracle quite shuddered in her discreet + disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “If you go on in that way,” she said, “you will be ending by saying that + improper things are always nice.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind how I end,” observed the prisoner at the bar. “You have ended + by wakening Tod;” which remark terminated the conversation somewhat + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + A day or so later came Chandos—upon business, so he said, but he + remained much longer than his errand rendered necessary, and by some + chance or other it came to pass that Phil brought him into the parlor, and + introduced him to their small circle, in his usual amiable, informal + manner. Then he was to be seen fairly, and prepossessing enough he was. + Mollie, sitting in her corner in the blue dress, and looking exquisite and + guileless, was very demurely silent at first; but in due time Aimée began + to see that she was being gradually drawn out, and at last the drawing out + was such a success, subtle as it was, that she became quite a prominent + feature in the party, and made so many brilliant speeches without + blushing, that the family eyes began to be opened to the fact that she was + really a trifle older than she had been a few years ago, after all. The + idea had suggested itself to them faintly on one or two occasions of late, + and they were just beginning to grasp it, though they were fully as much + startled as they would have been if Tod had unexpectedly roused himself + from his infantile slumbers, and mildly but firmly announced his intention + of studying for the ministry or entering a political contest. + </p> + <p> + Aimée was dumbfounded. She had not expected this. She was going to have + her hands full, it was plain. She scarcely wondered now at her discovery + of two evenings before. And then she glanced slyly across the room again, + and took it all in once more,—Mollie, bewitching in all the novelty + of her small effort at coquetry; Chandos, leading her on, and evidently + enjoying the task he had set himself intensely. + </p> + <p> + It was quite a new Mollie who was left to them after their visitor was + gone. There was a touch of triumph and excitement in the pretty flushed + face, and a ghost of defiance in the brown eyes. She was not quite sure + that young Dame Prudence would not improve the occasion with a short + homily. + </p> + <p> + So she was a trifle restless. First she stood at the window humming an + air, then she came to the table and turned over a few sketches, then she + knelt down on pretence of teasing Tod. + </p> + <p> + But impulse was too much for her. She forgot Tod in a few minutes and fell + into a sitting position, folding her hands idly on the blue garment. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he would come,” she said, abstractedly. Then Dame Prudence + addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” she remarked. “How did you?” + </p> + <p> + She started and blushed up to her ears. + </p> + <p> + “How?” she repeated. “Oh, I knew!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he told you he would,” put in Dame P. “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” was the rather irrelevant reply, rather suddenly made, “do you + like him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never judge people,” primly enunciated, “upon first acquaintance. First + impressions are rarely to be relied upon.” + </p> + <p> + “That 's a nice speech,” in her elder sister's most shockingly flippant + manner, “and it sounds well, but I have heard it before—thousands of + times. People always say it when they want to be specially disagreeable, + and would like to cool you down. There is the least grain of Lady Augusta + in you, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “And considering that Lady Augusta is the most unpleasant person we know, + <i>that</i> is a nice speech,” returned the oracle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I only said 'a grain,' and a grain is not much.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” amiably, “suppose we say half a grain.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we say you are talking nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie's air was Dolly's own as she answered her,—people always said + she was like Dolly, despite the fact that Dolly was not a beauty at all. + </p> + <p> + “There may be something in that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we admit it and return to the subject. Do you think he is nice, + Aimée?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” but without getting rose-colored this time. + </p> + <p> + Aimée looked at her calmly, but with some quiet scrutiny in her glance. + </p> + <p> + “As nice,” she put it to her,—"as nice as Ralph Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + She grew rose-colored then in an instant up to her ears again and over + them, and she turned her face aside and plucked at the hearth-rug with + nervous fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” suggested Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “He is as handsome and—as tall, and he dresses as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like him as well?” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es—no. I have not known him long enough to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Aimée, “let me tell you. As I said before, I do not think + it wise to judge people from first impressions, but this I do know, <i>I</i> + don't like him as I like Mr. Gowan, and I never shall. He is not to be + relied upon, that Gerald Chandos; I saw it in his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + And she set her chin upon her hand, and her small, round, fair face + covered itself all at once with an anxious cloud. + </p> + <p> + She kept a quiet watch upon Mollie after this, and in the weeks that + followed she was puzzled, and not only puzzled, but baffled outright many + a time. This first visit of Mr. Gerald Chandos was not his last. His + business brought him again and again, and when the time came that he had + no pretence of business, he was on sufficiently familiar terms with them + all to make calls of pleasure. So he did just as Ralph Gowan had done, + slipped into his groove of friend and acquaintance unobtrusively, and was + made welcome as other people were,—just as any sufficiently harmless + individual would have been under the same circumstances. There was no + dragon of high renown to create social disturbances in Vagabondia. + </p> + <p> + “As long as a man behaves himself, where's the odds?” said Phil; and no + one ever disagreed with him. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Gerald Chandos had not been to the house more than three times + before Aimée found cause to wonder. She discovered that Ralph Gowan was + not so enthusiastically attached to him, after all; and furthermore she + had her reasons for thinking that Gowan was rather disturbed at his + advent, and would have preferred that he had not been adopted so + complacently. + </p> + <p> + “If Dolly was at home,” she said to herself, “I should be inclined to + fancy he was a trifle jealous; and if he cared just a little more for + Mollie, I might think he was jealous; but Dolly is away, and though he is + fond of Mollie, and thinks her pretty, he does n't care for her in that + way exactly, so there must be some other reason. He is not the sort of + person to have likes or dislikes without reason.” + </p> + <p> + In her own sage style she approved of Ralph Gowan just as she approved of + Griffith. And then, as I have said, Mollie puzzled her. It was astonishing + how the child altered, and how she began to bloom out, and adopt + independent, womanly airs and graces. She took a new and important + position in the household. From her post of observation the wise one found + herself looking on with a smile sometimes, there was such a freshness in + her style of enacting the <i>rôle</i> of beauty. She struck Phil's friends + dumb now and then with her conscious power, and the unhappy Brown suffered + himself to be led captive without a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Her 'prentice han' she tried on Brown,” Dolly had said, months before, in + a wretched attempt at parody; and certainly the tortures of Brown were + prolonged and varied. But it was her manner toward Chandos that puzzled + Aimée. Perhaps she was a trifle proud of his evident admiration; at all + events, she seemed far from averse to it, and the incomprehensible part of + the affair was that sometimes she allowed him to rival even Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” commented Aimée, “she likes Ralph Gowan better. She never can + help blushing and looking conscious when he comes or when he talks to her, + and she is as cool as Dolly when she finds herself with Chandos. It is + very odd.” + </p> + <p> + It was not so easy to manage her as it used to be, Ralph Gowan discovered. + She was growing capricious and fanciful, and ready to take offence. If + they were left alone together, she would change her mood every two + minutes. Sometimes she would submit to his old jesting, gallant speeches + quite humbly and shyly for a while, and then she would flame out all at + once in anger, half a woman's and half a child's. He was inclined to fancy + now and then that she had never forgiven him for his first interference on + the subject of Gerald Chandos, for at the early part of the acquaintance + he did interfere, as he had promised Dolly he would. + </p> + <p> + “I am not glad to see that fellow here, Mollie,” he had said, the first + night he met him at the house. + </p> + <p> + She stood erect before him, with her white throat straight, and a spark in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What fellow?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Chandos,” he answered, coolly and briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she returned. “How is it that when one man dislikes another he + always speaks of him as 'that fellow'? I know some one who always refers + to you as 'that fellow.'” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” dryly, as before. He knew very well whom she meant. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> am glad to see 'that fellow' here,” she went on. “He is a + gentleman, and he is n't stupid. No one else comes here who is so amusing. + I am tired of Brown & Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he answered, biting his lip. He felt the rebuff, if it was only + Mollie who gave it. “Very well then, if you are tired of Brown & + Company, and would prefer to enter into partnership with Chandos, it is + none of my business, I suppose. I will give you one warning, however, + because I promised your sister to take care of you.” Her skin flamed + scarlet at that. “That fellow is not a gentleman exactly, and he is a very + dangerous acquaintance for any woman to make.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a friend of yours,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “That is a natural mistake on your part,” he replied,—"natural, but + still a mistake. He is <i>not</i> a friend of mine. As I before observed, + he is not exactly a gentleman—not to put too fine a point upon it—from + a moral point of view. We won't discuss the matter further.” + </p> + <p> + They had parted bad friends that night. Mollie was restive under his cool + decisiveness for various reasons; he was irritated because he felt he had + failed, and had lost ground instead of gaining it. So sometimes since, he + had fancied that she had not wholly forgiven him, and yet there were times + when she was so softly submissive that he felt himself in some slight + danger of being as much touched and as fairly bewitched as he was when + Dolly turned her attention to him. Still she was frequently far from + amiable, and upon more than one occasion he found her not precisely as + polite as she might have been. + </p> + <p> + “You are not as amiable, Mollie,” he said to her once, “as you used to be. + We were very good friends in the old days. I suppose you are outgrowing + me. I should be afraid to offer you a bunch of camellias now as a token of + my affection.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled down at her indolently as he said it, and before he had finished + he began to feel uncomfortable. Her eyelids drooped and her head drooped, + and she looked sweetly troubled. + </p> + <p> + “I know I am not as good as I used to be,” she admitted. “I know it + without being told. Sometimes,” very suddenly, “I think I must be growing + awfully wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he commented, “at least one must admit that is a promising state + of mind, and augurs well for future repentance.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn't,” she answered him, “and that is the bad side of it. I am + getting worse every day of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it safe,” he suggested, cynically,—"is it safe for an innocent + individual to cultivate your acquaintance? Would it not be a good plan to + isolate yourself from society until you feel that the guileless ones may + approach you without fear of contamination? You alarm me.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her head, her eyes flashing. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> are safe,” she said; “so it is rather premature to cry 'wolf' + so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very plain that you are outgrowing me,” he returned. “Dolly herself + could not have made a more scathing remark.” + </p> + <p> + But, fond as he was of tormenting her, he did not want to try her too far, + and so he endeavored to make friends. But his efforts at reconciliation + were not a success. She was not to be coaxed into her sweet mood again; + indeed she almost led him to fear that he had wounded her irreparably by + his jests. And yet, when he at last consulted his watch, and went to the + side-table for his hat and gloves, he turned round to find her large eyes + following him in a wistful sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going?” she asked him at length, a half-reluctant appeal in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am due at Brabazon Lodge now,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She said no more after that, but relapsed into silence, and let him go + without making an effort to detain him, receiving his adieus in her most + indifferent style. + </p> + <p> + But she was cross and low-spirited when he was gone, and Aimée, coming + into the room with her work, found her somewhat hard to deal with, and + indeed was moved to tell her so. + </p> + <p> + “You are a most inexplicable girl, Mollie,” she said. “What crotchet is + troubling you now?” + </p> + <p> + “No crotchet at all,” she answered, and then all at once she got up and + stood before the mantel-glass, looking at herself fixedly. “Aimée,” she + said, “if you were a man, would you admire me?” + </p> + <p> + Aimée gave her a glance, and then answered her with sharp frankness. “Yes, + I should,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She remained standing for a few minutes, taking a survey of herself, front + view, side view, and even craning her pretty throat to get a glimpse of + her back; and then a pettish sigh burst from her, and she sat down again + at her sister's feet, clasping her hands about her knees in a most + unorthodox position. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to have a great deal of money,” she said after a while, and + she frowned as she said it. + </p> + <p> + “That is a startling observation,” commented Aimée, “and shows great + singularity of taste.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie frowned again, and shrugged one shoulder, but otherwise gave the + remark small notice. + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” she proceeded, “to have a carriage, and to live in a + grand house, and go to places. I should like to marry somebody rich.” And + having blurted out this last confession, she looked half ashamed of + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” said Aimée, solemnly dropping her hands and her work upon her + lap, “I am beginning to feel as Dolly does; I am beginning to be afraid + you are going to get yourself into serious trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Then this overgrown baby of theirs, who had so suddenly astonished them + all by dropping her babyhood and asserting herself a woman, said something + so startling that the wise one fairly lost her breath. + </p> + <p> + “If I cannot get what I want,” she said, deliberately, “I will take what I + can get.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going out of your mind,” ejaculated Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “It does n't matter if I am,” cried the romantic little goose, positively + crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and flinging herself + upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,—"it does n't matter if I am. + Who cares for <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + </h2> + <p> + THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her + small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject + revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the + parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely + announcing her intention of going to see Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going for?” said Mrs. Phil. + </p> + <p> + “Rather sudden, is n't it?” commented Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm going on business,” returned Aimée, and she buttoned her gloves and + took her departure, without enlightening them further. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss MacDowlas out and Dolly sitting + alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and tears in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her visitor walked to the hearth, her face wrinkling portentously, and + kissed her with an air of affectionate severity. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she began, comprehending matters at a glance, “I am sure I + don't know what I am to do with you all. <i>You</i> are in trouble now.” + </p> + <p> + “Take off your things,” said Dolly, with a helpless little sob, “and—and + then I will tell you all about it. You must stay and have tea with me. + Miss MacDowlas is away, and I—am all alone, and—and, O Aimée!” + </p> + <p> + The hat and jacket were laid aside in two minutes, and Aimée came back to + her and knelt down. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything in your letter you do not want me to see?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, in despair, and tossed it into her lap. + </p> + <p> + It was no new story, but this time the Fates seemed to have conspired + against her more maliciously than usual. A few days before Grif had found + himself terribly dashed in spirit, and under the influence of impulse had + written to her. Two or three times in one day he had heard accidental + comments upon Gowan's attentions to her, and on his return to his lodgings + at night he had appealed to her in a passionate epistle. + </p> + <p> + He was not going to doubt her again, he said, and he was struggling to + face the matter coolly, but he wanted to see her. It would be worse than + useless to call upon her at the Lodge, and have an interview under the + disapproving eyes of Miss MacDowlas, and so he had thought they might meet + again by appointment, as they had done before by chance. And Dolly had + acquiesced at once. But Fortune was against her. Just as she had been + ready to leave the house, Ralph Gowan had made his appearance, and Miss + MacDowlas had called her down-stairs to entertain him. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have cared about telling,” cried Dolly, in tears, “but I + could not tell her, and so I had to stay, and—actually—<i>sing</i>—Aimée. + Yes, sing detestable love-sick songs, while my own darling, whom I was <i>dying</i> + to go to, was waiting outside in the cold. And that was not the worst, + either. He was just outside in the road, and when the servants lighted the + gas he saw me through the window. And I was at the piano"—in a burst—"and + Ralph Gowan was standing by me. And so he went home and wrote <i>that</i>,” + signifying with a gesture the letter Aimée held. “And everything is wrong + again.” + </p> + <p> + It was very plain that everything <i>was</i> wrong again. The epistle in + question was an impetuous, impassioned effusion enough. He was furious + against Gowan, and bitter against everybody else. She had cheated and + slighted and trifled with him when he most needed her love and pity; but + he would not blame her, he could only blame himself for being such an + insane, presumptuous fool as to fancy that anything he had to offer could + be worthy of any woman. + </p> + <p> + What had he to offer, etc., for half a dozen almost illegible pages, + dashed and crossed, and all on fire with his bitterness and pain. + </p> + <p> + Having taken it from Aimée, and read it for the twentieth time, Dolly + fairly wrung her hands over it. + </p> + <p> + “If we were only just <i>together!</i>” she cried. “If we only just had + the tiniest, shabbiest house in the world, and could be married and help + each other! He does n't mean to be unjust or unkind, you know, Aimée; he + would be more wretched than I am if he knew how unhappy he has made me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed Aimée. “He should think of that before he begins.” + </p> + <p> + Then she regained possession of the letter, and smoothed out its creases + on her knee, finishing by folding it carefully and returning it to its + envelope, looking very grave all the time. + </p> + <p> + “Will you lend me this?” she said at last, holding the epistle up. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with it?” asked Dolly, disconsolately. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ask Griffith to read it again. I shall be sure to see him + to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” answered Dolly; “but don't be too hard upon him, Aimée. He + has a great deal to bear.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Aimée. “And sometimes he bears it very well; but just + now he needs a little advice.” + </p> + <p> + Troubled as she was, Dolly laughed at the staid expression on her small, + discreet face; but even as she laughed she caught the child in her arms + and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “What should we do without you!” she exclaimed. “We need some one to keep + us all straight, we Vagabonds; but it seems queer that such a small + wiseacre as you should be our controlling power.” + </p> + <p> + The mere sight of the small wiseacre had a comforting effect upon her. Her + spirits began to rise, and she so far recovered herself as to be able to + look matters in the face more cheerfully. There was so much to talk about, + and so many questions to ask, that it would have been impossible to remain + dejected and uninterested. It was not until after tea, however, that Aimée + brought her “business” upon the carpet. She had thought it best not to + introduce the subject during the earlier part of the evening; but when the + tea-tray was removed, and they found themselves alone again, she settled + down, and applied herself at once to the work before her. + </p> + <p> + “I have not told you yet what I came here for this afternoon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to intimate that you did not come to see me!” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I came to see you, of course,” decidedly; “but I came to see you for a + purpose. I came to talk to you about Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly almost turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she exclaimed. “What is the trouble about Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that puzzles me,” was the answer. “Dolly, do you know anything + about Gerald Chandos?” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Dolly. “It is Gerald Chandos, is it? He is not a fit + companion for her, I know that much.” + </p> + <p> + And then she repeated, word for word, the conversation she had had with + Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + Having listened to the end, Aimée shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I like Mr. Gowan well enough,” she said, “but he has been the cause of a + great deal of trouble among us, without meaning to be, and I am afraid it + is not at an end yet.” + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a few moments after this, and then Dolly, + looking up, spoke with a touch of reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you can answer me a question I should like to ask you?” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “If it is about Mollie, I think I can,” Aimée returned. + </p> + <p> + “You have been with her so long,” Dolly went on, two tiny lines showing + themselves upon <i>her</i> forehead this time, “and you are so quick at + seeing things, that you must know what there is to know. And yet it hardly + seems fair to ask. Ralph Gowan goes to Bloomsbury Place often, does he + not?” + </p> + <p> + “He goes very often, and he seems to care more for Mollie than for any of + the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” Dolly said next, “does—this is my question—does + Mollie care for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she does,” answered Aimée. “She cares for him so much that she is + making herself miserable about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” cried Dolly. “What—” + </p> + <p> + Aimée interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “And that is not the worst. The fact is, Dolly, I don't know what to make + of her. If it was any one but Mollie, or if Mollie was a bit less innocent + and impetuous, I should not be so much afraid; but sometimes she is angry + with herself, and sometimes she is angry with him, and sometimes she is + both, and then I should not be surprised at her doing anything innocent + and frantic. Poor child! It is my impression she has about half made up + her mind to the desperate resolve of making a grand marriage. She said as + much the other night, and I think that is why she encourages Mr. Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” cried Dolly, again. “And does she think he wants to marry + her?” + </p> + <p> + “She knows he makes violent love to her, and she is not worldly-wise + enough to know that Lord Burleighs are out of date.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of date!” said Dolly; “I doubt if they ever were in date. Men like + Mr. Gerald Chandos would hesitate at marrying Venus from Bloomsbury + Place.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was Ralph Gowan,” suggested Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “But Ralph Gowan is n't like Chandos,” Dolly returned, astutely. “He is + worth ten thousand of him. I wish he would fall in love with Mollie and + marry her. Poor Mollie! Poor, pretty, headlong little goose! What are we + to do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan is very fond of her, in a way,” said Aimée. “If he did not care + a little for you—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he did not!” sighed Dolly. “But it serves me right,” with candor. + “He would never have thought of me again if I—well, if I had n't + found things so dreadfully dull at that Bilberry clan gathering.” + </p> + <p> + “'If,'” moralized Aimée, significantly. “'If' is n't a wise word, and it + often gets you into trouble, Dolly. If you hadn't, it would have been + better for Grif, as well; but what cannot be cured must be endured.” + </p> + <p> + Their long talk ended, however, in Dolly's great encouragement. It was + agreed that the family oracle was to bring Griffith to his senses by means + of some slight sisterly reproof, and that she was to take Mollie in hand + discreetly at once and persuade her to enter the confessional. + </p> + <p> + “She has altered a great deal, and has grown much older and more + self-willed lately,” said Aimée; “but if I am very straightforward and + take her by surprise, I scarcely think she will be able to conceal much + from me, and, at least, I shall be able to show her that her fancies are + romantic and unpractical.” + </p> + <p> + She did not waste any time before applying herself to her work, when she + went home. Instead of going to Bloomsbury Place at once, she stopped at + Griffith's lodgings on her way, and rather scandalized his landlady by + requesting to be shown into his parlor. Only the grave simplicity of the + small, slight figure in its gray cloak, and the steadfast seriousness in + the pretty face reconciled the worthy matron to the idea of admitting her + without investigation. But Aimée bore her scrutiny very calmly. The whole + family of them had taken tea in the little sitting-room with Griffith, + upon one or two occasions, so she was not at all at a loss, although she + did not find herself recognized. + </p> + <p> + “I am one of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said; and that, of course, was + quite enough. Mrs. Cripps knew Mr. Crewe as well as she knew Grif himself, + so she stepped back into the narrow passage at once, and even opened the + parlor door, and announced the visitor in a way that made poor Grif s + heart beat. + </p> + <p> + “One of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He had been sitting glowering over the fire, with his head on his hands + and his elbows on his knees, and when he started up he looked quite + haggard and dishevelled. Was it—<i>could</i> it be Dolly? He knew it + could not be, but he turned pale at the thought. It would have been such + rapture, in his present frame of mind, to have poured out his misery and + distrust, and then to have clasped her to his heart before she had time to + explain. He was just in that wretched, passionate, relenting, remorseful + stage. + </p> + <p> + But it was only Aimée, in her gray cloak; and as the door closed behind + her, that small person advanced toward him, crumpling her white forehead + and looking quite disturbed at the mere sight of him. She held up a + reproachful finger at him warningly. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it would be just this way,” she said. “And you are paler and more + miserable than ever. If you and Dolly would just be more practical and + reason more for each other, instead of falling headlong into quarrels and + making everything up headlong every ten minutes, how much better it would + be for you! If I was not so fond of you both, you would be the greatest + trials I have.” + </p> + <p> + He was so glad to see the thoughtful, womanly little creature, that he + could have caught her up in his arms, gray cloak and all, and have kissed + her only a tithe less impetuously than he would have kissed Dolly. He was + one of the most faithful worshippers at her shrine, and her pretty wisdom + and unselfishness had won her many. He drew the easiest chair up to the + fire for her, and made her sit down and warm her feet on the fender, while + she talked to him, and he listened to her every word, as he always did. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to see Dolly,” she said, “and I found her crying,—all + by herself and crying.” And she paused to note the effect of her words. + </p> + <p> + His heart gave a great thump. It always did give a hard thump when he + thought of Dolly as she looked when she cried,—a soft, limp little + bundle of pathetic prettiness, covering her dear little face in her hands, + shedding such piteous, impassioned tears, and refusing to be kissed or + comforted. Dolly sobbing on his shoulder was so different from the + coquettish, shrewd, mock-worldly Dolly other people saw. + </p> + <p> + Aimée put her hand into her dress-pocket under the gray cloak and produced + her letter,—took it out of its envelope, laid it on her knee, and + smoothed out its creases again. + </p> + <p> + “She was crying over this letter,” she proceeded,—"your letter; the + one you wrote to her when I think you cannot have been quite calm enough + to write anything. I think you cannot have read it over before sending it + away. It is always best to read a letter <i>twice</i> before posting it. + So I have brought it to you to read again, and there it is,” giving it to + him. + </p> + <p> + He burst forth with the story of his wrongs, of course, then. He could not + keep it in any longer. Things had gone wrong with him in every way before + this had happened, he said, and he had longed so for just one hour in + which Dolly could comfort him and try to help him to pluck up spirits + again, and she had written to him a tender little letter, and promised to + give him that hour, and he had been so full of impatience and love, and he + had gone to the very gates and waited like a beggar outside, lest he + should miss her by any chance, and the end of his waiting had been that he + had caught a glimpse of the bright, warm room, and the piano, and Dolly + with Gowan bending over her as if she had no other lover in the world. He + told it all in a burst, clenching his hand and scarcely stopping for + breath; but when he ended he dashed the letter down, pushed his chair + round, and dropped his head on his folded arms on the table, with a wild, + tearing sob. + </p> + <p> + “It is no fault of hers,” he cried, “and it was only the first sting that + made me reproach her. I shall never do it again. She is only in the right, + and that fellow is in the right when he tells himself that he can take + better care of her and make her happier than I can. I will be a coward no + longer,—not an hour longer. I will give her up to-night. She will + learn to love him—he is a gentleman at least—if I were in his + place I should never fear that she would not learn in time, and forget—and + forget the poor, selfish beggar who would have died for her, and yet was + not man enough to control the jealous rage that tortured her. I 'll give + her up. I'll give it all up—but, oh! my God! Dolly, the—the + little house, and—and the dreams I have had about it!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée was almost in despair. This was not one of his ordinary moods; this + was the culminating point,—the culmination of all his old sufferings + and pangs. He had been working slowly toward this through all the old + unhappiness and self-reproach. The constant droppings of the bygone years + had worn away the stone at last, and he could not bear much more. Aimée + was frightened now. Her habit of forethought showed her all this in a very + few seconds. His nervous, highly strung, impassioned temperament had + broken down at last. Another blow would be too much for him. If she could + not manage to set him right now and calm him, and if things went wrong + again, she was secretly conscious of feeling that the consequences could + not be foreseen. There was nothing wild and rash and wretched he might not + do. + </p> + <p> + She got up and went to him, and leaned upon the table, clasping her cool, + firm little hand upon his hot, desperate one. A woman of fifty could not + have had the power over him that this slight, inexperienced little + creature had. Her childish face caught color and life and strength in her + determination to do her best for these two whom she loved so well. Her + small-boned, fragile figure deceived people into undervaluing her reserve + forces; but there was mature feeling and purpose enough in her to have put + many a woman three times her age to shame. The light, cool touch of her + hand soothed and controlled Griffith from the first, and when she put + forth all her powers of reasoning, and set his trouble before him in a + more practical and less headlong way, not a word was lost upon him. She + pictured Dolly to him just as she had found her holding his letter in her + hand, and she pictured her too as she had really been the night he watched + her through the window,—not staying because she cared for Gowan, but + because circumstances had forced her to remain when she was longing in her + own impetuous pretty way to fly to him, and give him the comfort he + needed. And she gave Dolly's story in Dolly's own words, with the little + sobs between, and the usual plentiful sprinkling of sweet, foolish, loving + epithets, and—with innocent artfulness—made her seem so + charming and affectionate, a little centre-figure in the picture she drew, + that no man with a heart in his breast could have resisted her, and by the + time Aimée had finished, Grif was so far moved that it seemed a sheer + impossibility to speak again of relinquishing his claims. + </p> + <p> + But he could not regain his spirits sufficiently to feel able to say very + much. He quieted down, but he was still down at heart and crushed in + feeling, and could do little else but listen in a hopeless sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you what you shall do,” Aimée said at last. “You shall see + Dolly yourself,—not on the street, but just as you used to see her + when she was at home. She shall come home some afternoon. I know Miss + MacDowlas will let her,—and you shall sit in the parlor together, + Grif, and make everything straight, and begin afresh.” + </p> + <p> + He could not help being roused somewhat by such a prospect. The cloud was + lifted for one instant, even if it fell upon him again the next. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to wait a week,” he said. “Old Flynn has asked me to go to + Dartmouth, to attend to some business for him, and I leave here to-morrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” she answered. “If we must wait a week, we must; but you can + write to Dolly in the interval, and settle upon the day, and then she can + speak to Miss MacDowlas.” + </p> + <p> + He agreed to the plan at once, and promised to write to Dolly that very + night. So the young peacemaker's mind was set at rest upon this subject, + at least, and after giving him a trifle more advice, and favoring him with + a few more sage axioms, she prepared to take her departure. + </p> + <p> + “You may put on your hat and take me to the door; but you had better not + come in if you are going to finish your letter before the post closes,” + she said; “but the short walk will do you good, and the night-air will + cool you.” + </p> + <p> + She bade him good-night at the gate when they reached Bloomsbury Place, + and she entered the house with her thoughts turning to Mollie. Mollie had + been out, too, it seemed. When she went up-stairs to their bedroom, she + found her there, standing before the dressing-table, still with her hat + on, and looking in evident preoccupation at something she held in her + hand. Hearing Aimée, she started and turned round, dropping her hand at + her side, but not in time to hide a suspicious glitter which caught her + sister's eye. Here was a worse state of affairs than ever. She had + something to hide, and she had made up her mind to hide it. She stood up + as Aimée approached, looking excited and guilty, but still half-defiant, + her lovely head tossed back a little and an obstinate curve on her red + lips. But the oracle was not to be daunted. She confronted her with quite + a stern little air. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she began at once, without the least hesitation,—"Mollie, + you have just this minute hidden something from me, and I should n't have + thought you could do it.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie put her closed hand behind her. + </p> + <p> + “<i>If</i> I am hiding something,” she answered, “I am not hiding it + without reason.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Dame Prudence, severely, “you are not. You have a very good + reason, I am afraid. You are ashamed of yourself, and you know you are + doing wrong. You have got a secret, which you are keeping from <i>me</i>, + Mollie,” bridling a little in the prettiest way. “I didn't think you would + keep a secret from <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, very naturally, was overpowered. She looked a trifle ashamed of + herself, and the tears came into her eyes. She drew her hand from behind + her back, and held it out with a half-pettish, half-timid gesture. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said; “if you must see it.” + </p> + <p> + And there, on her pink palm, lay a shining opal ring. + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Aimée, looking at it without offering to touch it, and then + looking at her,—"and Mr. Gerald Chandos gave it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Gerald Chandos did,” trying to brave it out, but still appearing + the reverse of comfortable. “And you think it proper,” proceeded her + inquisitor, “to accept such presents from a gentleman who cares nothing + for you?” + </p> + <p> + Care nothing for her! Mollie drew herself upright, with the air of a + Zenobia. She had had too few real love affairs not to take arms at once at + such an imputation cast upon her prowess. + </p> + <p> + “He cares enough for me to want me to marry him,” she said, and then + stopped and looked as if she could have bitten her tongue off for + betraying her. + </p> + <p> + Aimée sat down in the nearest chair and stared at her, as if she doubted + the evidence of her senses. + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + There was no use in trying to conceal the truth any longer. Mollie saw + that much; and besides this, her feelings were becoming too strong for her + from various causes. The afternoon had been an exciting one to her, too. + So, all at once, so suddenly that Aimée was altogether unprepared for the + outbreak, she gave way. The ring fell unheeded on to the carpet, slipped + from her hand and rolled away, and the next instant she went down upon her + knees, hiding her face on her arms on Aimée's lap, and began to cry + hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “It—it is to be quite a secret,” she sobbed. “I would not tell + anybody but you, and I dare not tell you quite all, but he <i>has</i> + asked me to marry him, Aimée, and I have—I have said yes.” And then + she cried more than ever, and caught Aimée's hand, and clung to it with a + desperate, childish grasp, as if she was frightened. + </p> + <p> + It was very evident that she was frightened, too. All the newly assumed + womanliness was gone. It was the handsome, inexperienced, ignorant child + Mollie she had known all her life who was clinging to her, Aimée felt,—the + pretty, simple, thoughtless Mollie they had all admired and laughed at, + and teased and been fond of. She seemed to have become a child again all + at once, and she was in trouble and desperate, it was plain. + </p> + <p> + “But the very idea!” exclaimed Aimée, inwardly; “the bare idea of her + having the courage to engage herself to him!” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard such a thing in my life,” she said, aloud. “Oh, Mollie! + Mollie! what induced you to give him such a mad answer? You don't care for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He—he would not take any other answer, and he is as nice as any one + else,” shamefacedly. “He is nicer than Brown and the others, and—I + do like him—a little,” but a tiny shudder crept over her, and she + held her listener's hand more tightly. + </p> + <p> + “As nice as any one else!” echoed Aimée, indignantly. “Nicer than Brown! + You ought to be in leading-strings!” with pathetic hopelessness. “That was + n't your only reason, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + The hat with the short crimson feather had been unceremoniously pushed + off, and hung by its elastic upon Mollie's neck; the pretty curly hair was + all crushed into a heap, and the flushed, tear-wet face was hidden in the + folds of Aimée's dress. There was a charming, foolish, fanciful side to + Mollie's desperation, as there was to all her moods. + </p> + <p> + “That was not your only reason,” repeated Aimée. + </p> + <p> + One impetuous, unhappy little sob, and the poor simple child confessed + against her will. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody—nobody else cared for me!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody?” said Aimée; and then, making up her mind to go to the point at + once, she said, “Does 'nobody' mean that Ralph Gowan did not, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + The clinging hand was snatched away, and the child quite writhed. + </p> + <p> + “I hate Ralph Gowan!” she cried. “I detest him! I wish—I wish—I + <i>wish</i> I had never seen him! Why could n't he stay away among his own + people? Nobody wanted him. Dolly doesn't care for him, and Grif hates him. + Why could n't he stay where he was?” + </p> + <p> + There was no need to doubt after this, of course. Her love for Ralph Gowan + had rendered her restless and despairing, and so she had worked out this + innocent romance, intending to defend herself against him. The heroines of + her favorite novels married for money when they could not marry for love, + and why should not she? Remember, she was only seventeen, and had been + brought up in Vagabondia among people who did not often regard + consequences. Mr. Gerald Chandos was rich, made violent love to her, and + was ready to promise anything, it appeared,—not that she demanded + much; the Lord Burleighs of her experience invariably showered jewels and + equipages and fine raiment upon their brides without being asked. She + would have thought it positive bliss to be tied to Ralph Gowan for six or + seven years without any earthly prospect of ever being married; to have + belonged to him as Dolly belonged to Grif, to sit in the parlor and listen + to him while he made love to her as Grif made love to Dolly, would have + been quite enough steady-going rapture for her; but since that was out of + the question, Mr. Gerald Chandos and diamonds and a carriage would have to + fill up the blank. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, she did not say this to Aimée. In fact, after her first + burst of excitement subsided, Aimée could not gain much from her. She + cried a little more, and then seemed vexed with herself, and tried to cool + down, and at last so far succeeded that she sat up and pushed her tangled + hair from her wet, hot face, and began to search for the ring. + </p> + <p> + “It has got a diamond in the centre,” she said, trying to speak + indifferently. “I don't believe you looked at it. The opals are splendid, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to wear it?” asked Aimée. + </p> + <p> + She colored up to her forehead. “No, I am not,” she answered. “I should + have worn it before if I had intended to let people see it. I told you it + was a secret. I have had this ring three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it a secret?” demanded Dame Prudence. “I don't believe in secrets,—particularly + in secret engagements. Is n't Phil to know?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away to put the ring into its case. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” she replied, pettishly. “Time enough when it can't be helped. + It is a secret, I tell you, and I don't care about everybody's talking it + over.” + </p> + <p> + And she would say no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + </h2> + <h3> + “It is my impression,” said Dolly, “that something is going to happen.” + </h3> + <p> + She was not in the best of spirits. She could not have explained why. + Griffith was safe, at least, though he had been detained a week longer + than he had anticipated, and consequently their meeting would have to be + deferred; but though this had been a disappointment, Dolly was used to + such disappointments, and besides the most formidable part of the waiting + was over, for it was settled now that he would be home in two days. It was + Tuesday now, and on Thursday he was to return, and she was going to + Bloomsbury Place in the afternoon, and he was to join the family tea as he + had used to do in the old times. But still she did not feel quite easy. + She was restless and uncomfortable in spite of herself, and was conscious + of being troubled by a vague presentiment of evil. + </p> + <p> + “It is not like me to be blue,” she said to herself; “but I am blue + to-day. I wonder what is going on at home.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as was quite natural, her thoughts wandered to Mollie, and she began + to ponder upon what Aimée had told her. How were matters progressing, and + what was going to be the end of it all? The child's danger was plainer to + her than it was to Aimée; and, fond as she was of Mollie, she had + determined to improve the occasion of her visit home, by taking the fair + delinquent aside and administering a sound lecture to her. She would tell + her the truth, at least, and try to open her innocent eyes to the fact + that Mr. Gerald Chandos was not a man of the King Cophetua stamp, and that + there was neither romance nor poetry in allowing such a man to amuse + himself at her expense. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mollie! It would be a humiliating view to take of a first conquest, + but it would be the best thing for her in the end. Dolly sighed over the + mere prospect of the task before her. She remembered what her first + conquest had been, and how implicitly she had believed in her new power, + and how trustingly she had swallowed every sugared nothing, and how she + had revelled in the field of possible romance which had seemed spread + before her, until she had awakened one fine day to find the first flush of + her triumph fading, and her adorer losing his attractions and becoming + rather tame. That had been long ago, even before Griffith's time, but she + had not forgotten the experience, and she knew it would have been a severe + shock to <i>her</i> innocent self-love and self-gratulation, if any one + had hinted to her that there was a doubt of her captive's honesty. She was + roused from her reverie by a message from Miss MacDowlas. It was only a + commonplace sort of message. There were some orders to be left at the + poulterer's and fruiterer's, and some bills to be paid in town, and, these + affairs being her business, Miss MacDowlas had good-naturedly ordered the + carriage for her, as she had a long round to make. + </p> + <p> + Dolly got up and laid her work aside. She was not sorry for the + opportunity of going out, so she ran up-stairs with some alacrity to put + on her hat, and, having dressed, went to Miss MacDowlas for more + particular instructions. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking rather pale and the drive will do you good,” said that + lady. “Call at Pullet's and pay his bill, and order the things on his list + first. By the way, it was when I drove round to give orders to Pullet the + other day, that I saw your pretty sister with Gerald Chandos. She is too + pretty, far too pretty, and far too young and inexperienced, to be giving + private interviews to such people as Gerald Chandos,” sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Private!” repeated Dolly, with some indignation. “I think that is a + mistake. Mr. Gerald Chandos has no need to make his interview private. The + doors are open to him at Bloomsbury Place so long as he behaves himself.” + </p> + <p> + “The more is the pity,” answered Miss MacDowlas; “but that this was a + private interview I am certain. My pretty Miss Innocence came up the + street slowly with her handsome baby-face on fire, and two minutes later + Gerald Chandos followed her in a wondrous hurry, and joined her and + carried her off, looking very guilty and charming, and a trifle reluctant, + I must admit.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's cheeks flushed, and her heart began to beat hotly. If this was the + case it was simply disgraceful, and Miss Mollie was allowing herself to be + led too far. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear this,” she said to Miss Mac-Dowlas, “but I am indebted + to you for telling me. I will attend to it when I go home on Thursday, + and,” with a flash of fire, “if it is needful I will attend to Mr. Gerald + Chandos himself.” + </p> + <p> + She entered the carriage, feeling hot with anger and distress. She had not + expected such a blow, even though she had told herself that she was + prepared to hear of any romantic imprudence. And then in the midst of her + anger she began to pity Mollie, as it seemed natural to pity her always + when she was indiscreet. Who had ever taught her to be discreet, poor + child? Had she herself? No, she had not. She had been fond of her and + proud of her beauty, but she had laughed at her unsophisticated, + thoughtless way with the rest, and somehow they had all looked upon her as + they looked upon Tod,—as rather a good joke. Dolly quite hated + herself as she remembered how she had related her own little escapades for + the edification of the family circle, and how Mollie had enjoyed them more + than any one else. She had never overstepped the actual bounds of + propriety herself, but she had been coquettish and fond of admiration, and + had delighted to hold her own against the world. + </p> + <p> + “I was n't a good example to her!” she cried, remorsefully. “She ought to + have had a good, wise mother. I wish she had. I wish I had one myself.” + </p> + <p> + And she burst into tears, and leaned her head against the cushioned + carriage, feeling quite overcome by her self-reproach and consciousness. + Their mother had died when Mollie was born, and they had been left to + fight their own battles ever since. + </p> + <p> + She was obliged to control herself, however. It would never do to present + herself to Pullet in tears. So she sat up and dried her eyes with her + handkerchief, and turned to the carriage window to let the fresh air blow + upon her face. But she had not been looking out two minutes when her + attention was attracted by something down the street,—a bit of + color,—a little tuft of scarlet feathers in a hat, and then her + eyes, wandering lower, recognized a well-remembered jacket and a + well-remembered dress, and then the next instant she uttered an + exclamation in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “It is Mollie!” she cried. “It is Mollie, and here is Gerald Chandos!” + </p> + <p> + For at the door of a bookseller's she was just nearing stood the gentleman + in question, holding a periodical in his hand, and evidently awaiting an + arrival. + </p> + <p> + He caught sight of Mollie almost as soon as she did herself, and the + instant he saw her he hurried toward her, and by the time Miss MacDowlas's + carriage rolled slowly up to them, in its usual stately fashion, he was + holding the small disreputable glove Mollie had just taken out of the + convenient jacket pocket, and the fair culprit herself was listening to + his eager greeting with the old, bright, uncontrollable blushes, and the + old dangerous trick of drooping brown-fringed eyelids, and half-shy, + half-wilful air. Dolly instinctively called to her almost aloud. She could + not resist the impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she said. “Mollie!” + </p> + <p> + But, of course, Mollie did not hear her, and the carriage passed her, and + Dolly sank back into her corner catching her breath. + </p> + <p> + “It was not a mistake,” she said; “it was true. It is worse than I + thought. Miss MacDowlas was right. It was no accident which brought them + both here. He is a cowardly scoundrel and is playing upon her ignorance. + If I had believed in him before, I should know that he is not to be + trusted now. She is walking on the edge of a precipice, and she thinks she + is safe and never dreams of its existence. Oh, Mollie! Mollie! the world + means nothing to you yet, and it is we who have to show you all the + thorns!” + </p> + <p> + She finished her errands and drove homeward as quickly as possible. She + could think of nothing but Mollie, and by the time she reached Barbrazon + Lodge her head ached with the unpleasant excitement. The servant who + opened the door met her with a piece of information. Mr. Gowan had called + to see her on some special business, and was awaiting her arrival in the + drawing-room. He had been there almost an hour. + </p> + <p> + She did not go to her room at all, but ran up-stairs to the drawing-room + quickly, feeling still more anxious. It was just possible that somebody + was ill, and Ralph Gowan had come to break the news to her because no one + else had been at liberty. With this idea uppermost, she opened the door + and advanced toward him, looking pale and troubled. + </p> + <p> + He met her half-way, and took her outstretched hand, looking troubled + himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are not very well,” he said at once. “I am sorry to see that.” And + his voice told her immediately that he had not come with good news. + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly, but when she sat down she put her hand to her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Am I pale, then?” she answered. “I suppose I must be. It is nothing but a + trifle of headache, and,” with a hesitant laugh, “that I half fancied you + had come to tell me something unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment,—so silent that she looked up at him with + a startled face. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> something unpleasant!” she exclaimed. “You have come with + ill news, and you are afraid to begin.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so bad as that,—not afraid, but rather reluctant,” he answered. + “It is <i>not</i> pleasant news; and but that I felt it would be wisest to + warn you at once, I would rather any one else had brought it. I have + stumbled upon a disagreeable report.” + </p> + <p> + “Report!” Dolly echoed, and her thoughts flew to Mollie again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed,” he said. “It is only a disagreeable one because the + subject of it has managed to connect himself with some one whose happiness + we value.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly rose from her chair and stood up, turning even paler than before. + </p> + <p> + “This some one whose happiness we value is Mollie,” she said. “And the + report you have heard is about Mr. Gerald Chandos. Am I not right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he returned, “you are right. The hero of the report is Gerald + Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he been doing?” she asked, sharply. “Don't hesitate, please. I + want to know.” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently both distressed and perplexed. He took two or three + hurried steps across the room, as if to give himself a little extra time + to settle his words into the best form. But Dolly could not wait. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “what has that man been doing?” + </p> + <p> + He turned round and answered her. + </p> + <p> + “He has been passing himself off to your brother as an unmarried man,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + She slipped back into her chair again, and wrung her hands passionately. + </p> + <p> + “And he is married?” she demanded. “Oh! how was it you did not know + this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it,” he returned. + “And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to + tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, and + I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end of a + boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent six + months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and Chandos + has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts occasionally.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite sure,” he replied; “but I wish I had greater reason to doubt + it.” + </p> + <p> + Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street + only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and + drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he + took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling her + blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, and + then spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “in the first place I ought to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he said, “I promised to help you to care for Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to thank you,” she repeated. “And I do. But in the second place I + am going to ask you to do something for me which may be disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure,” he replied, “that I shall not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I think I am sure of that, or I should not ask you. I am + so eager about the matter, that I could not bear to waste the time. I want + you to help me. On Thursday afternoon I am going home. Can you trace this + report to its source before then, and let me know whether it is a true or + a false one?” + </p> + <p> + “I can try.” + </p> + <p> + She clasped both her gloved hands together on the small table before her, + and lifted to his such a determined young face and such steadfast eyes, + that he was quite impressed. She would rise in arms against the world for + poor, unwise Mollie, it was plain. It was not so safe a matter to trifle + in Vagabondia, it would seem,—that Gerald Chandos would find to his + cost. + </p> + <p> + “If you bring word to me that what you have heard is a truth,” she said, + “I can go to Mollie with my weapon in my hand, and I can end all at one + blow. However wilful and incredulous she may have been heretofore, she + will not attempt to resist me when I tell her that. It is a humiliating + thing to think he has insulted her by keeping his secret so far; but we + meet with such covert stings now and then in Vagabondia, and perhaps it + will prove a blessing in disguise. If we had used our authority to make + her dismiss him without having a decided reason to give her, she might + only have resented our intervention as being nothing but prejudice. As it + is, she will be frightened and angry.” + </p> + <p> + So it was agreed upon that he should take in hand the task of sifting the + affair to the bottom. His time was his own, and chance had thrown him + among men who would be likely to know the truth. As soon as he had gained + the necessary information, Dolly would hear from him, or he would call + upon her and give her all particulars. + </p> + <p> + “You have a whole day before you,—nearly two whole days, I may say, + for I shall not be likely to leave here until five or six o'clock on + Thursday,” Dolly said, when their rather lengthened interview terminated. + </p> + <p> + “I will make the most of my time,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Dolly stood at the window and watched him go down the walk to the gates. + </p> + <p> + “This is the something which was going to happen,” she commented. “Having + set matters straight with Grif, I suppose it is necessary, for the + maintenance of my self-control, that I should have a difficulty about + Mollie; but I think I could have retained my equilibrium without it.” + </p> + <p> + The two days passed quietly enough up to Thursday afternoon. Whatever + Ralph Gowan had discovered, he was keeping to himself for the present. He + had not written, and he had not called. Naturally, Dolly was impatient. + She began to be very impatient indeed, as the afternoon waned, and it + became dusk. Worse still, her old restlessness came upon her. She could + not make up her mind to leave Brabazon Lodge until she had either seen or + heard from Gowan, and she was afraid that if she lingered late Griffith + would arrive before her, and would be troubled by her non-appearance. + Since the night they had met in the street she had not seen him, and she + had much to say to him. She had looked forward anxiously to this evening, + and the few quiet hours they were to spend together in the dear old + disreputable parlor at Bloomsbury Place. They had spent so many blissful + evenings in that parlor, that the very thought of it made her heart beat + happily. Nobody would be there to interfere with them. The rest of the + family would, good-naturedly, vacate and leave them alone, and she would + take her old chair by the fire, and Grif would sit near her, and in ten + minutes after they had sat so together, they would have left all their + troubles behind them, and wandered off into a realm of tender dreams and + sweet unrealities. But, impatient as she was to be gone, Dolly could not + forget Mollie's interest. It was too near her heart to be forgotten. She + must attend to Mollie's affairs first, and then she could fly to Grif and + the parlor with an easy conscience. So she waited until five o'clock + before dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a + while, she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her + small preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to + leave the house as soon as he did. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake,” she + said. “I must consider him, too. If Mr. Gowan does not come by six or + half-past, I shall be obliged to go.” + </p> + <p> + She purposely prolonged her toilet, even though it had occupied a greater + length of time than usual in the first instance. There had been a new + acquisition in the shape of a dress to don, and one or two coquettish aids + to appearance, which were also novelties. But before six o'clock she was + quite ready, and, having nothing else to do, was reduced to the necessity + of standing before the glass and taking stock of herself and her attire. + </p> + <p> + “It fits,” she soliloquized, curving her neck in her anxiety to obtain a + back view of herself. “It fits like a glove, and so Grif will be sure to + like it. His admiration for clothes that fit amounts to a monomania. He + will make his usual ecstatic remarks on the subject of figure, too. And I + must confess,” with modest self-satisfaction,—"I must confess that + those frills are not unbecoming. If we were only rich—and married—how + I would dress, to please him! Being possessed of a figure, one's results + are never uncertain. Figure is a weakness of mine, also. With the + avoirdupois of Miss Jolliboy, life would appear a desert. Ten thousand per + annum would not console me. And yet she wears sables and seal-skin, and is + happy. It is a singular fact, worthy of the notice of the philosopher, + that it is such women who invariably possess the sable and seal-skin. Ah, + well!” charitably, “I suppose it is a dispensation of Providence. When + they attain that size they need some compensation.” + </p> + <p> + Often in after time she remembered the complacent little touch of vanity, + and wondered how it had been possible that she could stand there, making + so thoughtless and foolish a speech when danger was so near, and so much + of sharp, passionate suffering was approaching her. + </p> + <p> + She had waited until the last minute, and finding, on consulting her + watch, that it was past six, she decided to wait no longer. She took up + her gloves from the dressing-table and drew them on; she settled the + little drooping plume in her hat and picked up her muff, and then, giving + a last glance and a saucy nod to the piquant reflection in the glass, she + opened her bedroom door to go out. + </p> + <p> + And then it was, just at this last moment, that there came a ring at the + hall-door bell,—evidently a hurried ring, and withal a ring which + made her heart beat, she knew not why. + </p> + <p> + She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and + the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she heard. “Miss Crewe—wish to see her at once—at + once.” + </p> + <p> + She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for + the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and + entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her + with an exclamation of thankfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he said, “that you are ready!” He was pale with excitement, + and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. “You + must come with me,” he said. “There is not a moment to lose. I have a cab + at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true, and I + have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is not the + worst,—for God's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends upon + your courage,—he intends taking your sister with him.” + </p> + <p> + Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how much + might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she had + promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,—handsome, + lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rushing headlong and unconsciously to + misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she + turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so + before, had nodded at her pretty self in the glass; the excited blood + tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,—she + could not wait a breath's space. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” she exclaimed, “I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are + in the cab.” + </p> + <p> + She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give the + driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she learned + all. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had + succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though + he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries. In + the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who had + been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was, still + was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been roused to + such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings with the + intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there he had + made the fearful discovery that he had just left the place with “a pretty, + childish-looking girl,—tall, and with a lovely color,” as the + landlady described her; and he had known it was Mollie at once. + </p> + <p> + The good woman had given him all particulars. They had come to the house + together in a cab, and the young lady had not got out, but had remained + seated in it while her companion had given his orders to his servant + indoors. She—his housekeeper—had heard him say something about + Brussels, and, having caught a glimpse of the charming face in the vehicle + outside, she had watched it from behind the blinds, suspecting something + out of the common order of things. + </p> + <p> + “Not that he did not treat her polite and respectful enough,” she added; + “for he did and she—pretty young thing—seemed quite to expect + it, and not to be at all ashamed of herself, though she were a trifle shy + and timid. I even heard him ask her if she would rather he rode outside, + and she said she 'thought so, if he pleased,' And he bowed to her and + went, quite obedient. That was what puzzled me so; if he 'd ha' been + freer, I could have understood it.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not puzzle me!” cried Dolly, clenching her hands and fairly + panting for breath when she heard it. “He knows how innocent she is, and + he is too crafty to alarm her by his manner. Oh, cannot we make this man + drive faster?—cannot we make him drive faster?” + </p> + <p> + Gowan drew out his watch and referred to it. + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger of our losing their train,” he said. “It does not + leave the station until nearly seven, and it is not yet half-past six. If + they leave London to-night, we shall meet them; if they do not, I think I + can guess where we shall find them. Remember, you must not allow yourself + to become excited. We have only our coolness and readiness of action to + rely upon. If we lose our presence of mind, we lose all.” + </p> + <p> + He did not lose his presence of mind, at least. + </p> + <p> + Even in the midst of her distress, Dolly found time to feel grateful to + him beyond measure, and to admire his forethought. He never seemed to + hesitate for a moment. He had evidently decided upon his course + beforehand, and there was no delay. Reaching the station, he assisted + Dolly to descend from the cab and led her at once to a seat where she + could command a view of all who made their appearance upon the platform. + Then he left her and went to make inquiries from the officials. He was not + absent long. In a few minutes he returned with the necessary information. + The train was not due for twenty minutes, and as yet no lady and gentleman + answering to his description had been seen by any one in the place. + </p> + <p> + He came to Dolly and took a seat by her, looking down at her upturned, + appealing face pityingly, but reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “We are safe yet,” he said. “They have not arrived, and they can have + taken passage in no other train. We will watch this train leave the + station, and then we will drive at full speed to the hotel Chandos is in + the habit of visiting when he makes a flying journey. I know the place + well enough.” + </p> + <p> + The next half-hour was an anxious one to both. The train was behind time, + and consequently they were compelled to wait longer than they had + expected. A great many people crowded into the station and took tickets + for various points,—workingmen and their wives, old women with + bundles, and young ones without, comfortable people who travelled + first-class and seemed satisfied with themselves, shabbily attired little + dressmakers and milliners with bandboxes, a party of tourists, and a few + nice girls; in fact, the usual samples of people hurrying or taking it + easy, losing their temper or preserving it; but there was no Mollie. The + last moment arrived, the guards closed the carriage doors with the + customary bang, and the customary cry of “All right;” there were a few + puffs and a whistle, and then the train moved slowly out of the station. + Mollie was not on her way to Brussels yet; that was a fact to be depended + upon. + </p> + <p> + Dolly rose from her seat with a sigh which was half relief. + </p> + <p> + “Now for trying the hotel,” said Gowan. “Take my arm and summon up your + spirits. In less than a quarter of an hour, I think I may say, we shall + have found our runaway, and we shall have to do our best to reduce her + romantic escapade to a commonplace level. We may even carry her back to + Bloomsbury Place before they have had time to become anxious about her. + Thank Heaven, we were so fortunate as to discover all before it was too + late!” + </p> + <p> + Bloomsbury Place! A sudden pang shot through Dolly's heart. She + recollected then for the first time that at Bloomsbury Place Griffith was + waiting for her, and that it might be a couple of hours before she could + see him and explain. She got into the cab and leaned back in one corner, + with the anxious tears forcing themselves into her eyes. It seemed as if + fate itself was against her. + </p> + <p> + “What will he think?” she exclaimed, unconsciously. “Oh, what will he + think?” Then, seeing that Gowan had heard her, she looked at him + piteously. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to speak aloud,” she said. “I had forgotten in my trouble + that Grif will be waiting for me all this time. He has gone to the house + to meet me, and—I am not there.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he felt a slight pang, too. For some time he had been slowly + awakening, to the fact that this otherwise unfortunate Grif was all in all + to her, and shut out the rest of the world completely. He had no chance + against him, and no other man would have any. Still, even in the face of + this knowledge, the evident keenness of her disappointment cut him a + little. + </p> + <p> + “You must not let that trouble you,” he said, generously. “Donne will + easily understand your absence when you tell him where you have been. In + the meantime, I have a few suggestions to make before we reach the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + It was Mollie he was thinking of. He was wondrously tender of her in his + man's pity for her childish folly and simplicity. If possible, they must + keep her secret to themselves. If she had left no explanation behind her, + she must have given some reason for leaving the house, and if they found + her at the hotel it would not be a difficult matter to carry her back home + without exciting suspicion, and thus she would be saved the embarrassment + and comment her position would otherwise call down upon her. Griffith + might be told in confidence, but the rest of them might be left to imagine + that nothing remarkable had occurred. These were his suggestions. + </p> + <p> + Dolly agreed to adopt them at once, it is hardly necessary to say. The + idea that it would be possible to adopt them made the case look less + formidable. She had been terribly troubled at first by the thought of the + excitement the explanation of the escapade would cause at Bloomsbury + Place. Phil would have been simply furious,—not so much against + Mollie as against Chandos. His good-natured indifference to circumstances + would not have been proof against the base betrayal of confidence involved + in the affair. And then even in the after-time, when the worst was over + and forgotten, the innumerable jokes and thoughtless sarcasms she would + have had to encounter would have been Mollie's severest punishment. When + the remembrance of her past danger had faded out of the family mind, and + the whimsical side of the matter presented itself, they would have teased + her, and Dolly felt that such a course would be far from safe. So she + caught at Ralph Gowan's plan eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Still she felt an excited thrill when the cab drew up before the door of + the hotel. Suppose they should not find her? Suppose Chandos had taken + precautions against their being followed? + </p> + <p> + But Gowan did not seem to share her misgivings, though the expression upon + his face was a decidedly disturbed one as he descended from the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “You must remain seated until I come back,” he said. “I shall not be many + minutes, I am sure. I am convinced they are here.” And then he closed the + cab door and left her. + </p> + <p> + She drew out her watch and sat looking at it to steady herself. Her mind + was not very clear as to how she intended to confront Mr. Gerald Chandos + and convince Mollie. The convincing of Mollie would not be difficult, she + was almost sure, but the confronting of Gerald Chandos was not a pleasant + thing to think of. + </p> + <p> + She was just turning over in her mind a stirring, scathing speech, when + the cab door opened again, and Gowan stood before her. He had not been + absent five minutes. + </p> + <p> + “It is as I said it would be,” he said. “They are here,—at least + Mollie is here. Chandos has gone out, and she is alone in the private + parlor he has engaged for her. They have evidently missed their train. + They intended to leave by the first in the morning. I have managed to give + the impression that we are expected, and so we shall be shown on to the + scene at once without any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + And so they were. A waiter met them at the entrance and led them up-stairs + without the slightest hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary to announce us,” said Gowan. And the man threw open + the door of No. 2 with a bow. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the threshold together without speaking, and when the door + closed behind them they turned and looked at each other with a + simultaneous but half-smothered exclamation. + </p> + <p> + It was a pretty room, bright with a delicate gay-hued carpet and thick + white rugs, numerous mirrors and upholstering of silver-gray and blue. + There was a clear-burning fire in the highly polished steel-grate, and one + of the blue and silver-gray sofas had been drawn up to it, and there, upon + this sofa, lay Mollie with her hand under her cheek, sleeping like a baby. + </p> + <p> + They were both touched to the heart by the mere sight of her. There was + something in the perfect repose of her posture and expression that was + childish and restful. It was a difficult matter to realize that she was + sleeping on the brink of ruin and desolation. Something bright gathered on + Dolly's lashes and slipped down her cheek as she looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, we have found her!” she said. “Just to think that she should + be sleeping like that,—as if she was at home. If she was two years + old she might wear just such a look.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan hardly liked to stand by as she went toward the sofa. The girl's + face, under the coquettish hat, seemed to grow womanly, her whole figure + seemed to soften as she knelt down upon the carpet by the couch and laid + her hand upon Mollie's shoulder, speaking to her gently. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “dear, waken.” + </p> + <p> + Just that, and Mollie started up with a faint cry, dazzled by the light, + and rubbing her eyes and her soft, flushed cheeks, just as she had done + the night Gowan surprised her asleep in the parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she cried out, when she saw who was with her,—"Dolly,” in a + half-frightened voice, “why did you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to take you home,” answered Dolly, tremulously, but firmly. “Thank + God! I am not too late! Oh, Mollie, Mollie, how could you?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie sat up among her blue and gray cushions and stared at her for a + moment, as if she was not wide enough awake to realize what she meant. But + the next instant she caught sight of Ralph Gowan, and that roused her + fully, and she flushed scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” she said. “I don't know what you mean by + coming here in this way. And I don't know what Mr. Gowan means by bringing + you,—for I feel sure he has brought you. I am not a baby, to be + followed as if I could not take care of myself. I am going to be married + to Mr. Gerald Chandos to-morrow, and we are going on the Continent for our + wedding tour.” + </p> + <p> + She was in a high state of rebellion. It was Gowan's presence she was + resenting, not Dolly's. To tell the truth, she was rather glad to see + Dolly. She had begun to feel the loneliness of her position, and it had + half intimidated her. But the sight of Gowan roused her spirit. What right + had he to come and interfere with her, since he did not care for her and + thought she was nothing but a child? It made her feel like a child. She + turned her back to him openly as she spoke to Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to be married in the morning,” she repeated; “and we are going + to Brussels.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in her indignation against Mr. Gerald Chandos, Dolly fired a little + herself. + </p> + <p> + “And has it never occurred to you,” she said, “that it is rather a + humiliating thing this running away, as if you knew you were doing + something disgraceful? May I ask what reason Mr. Gerald Chandos gives for + asking you to submit to such an insult, for it is an insult?” + </p> + <p> + “He has very good reasons,” answered Mollie, beginning to falter all at + once, as the matter was presented to her in this new and trying light. “He + has very good reasons,—something about business and—and his + family, and he does not intend to insult me. He is very fond of me and + very proud of me, and he is going to try to make me very happy. He—he + has bought me a beautiful trousseau—” And then, seeing the two + exchange indignant yet pitying glances, she broke off suddenly and burst + forth as if she was trying to hide in anger the subtle, mysterious fear + which was beginning to creep upon her. “How dare you look at each other + so!” she cried. “How dare you look at me so! I have done nothing wrong. He + says many other people do the same thing and—and I won't be looked + at so. I shall not tell you another word. You—you look as if I was + going to do something wicked and dreadful.” And she flung herself face + downward upon the sofa cushions and broke into a passionate, excited sob. + </p> + <p> + Then Dolly could control herself no longer. She flashed out into a storm + of wrath and scorn against this cool, systematic scoundrel, who would have + wrought such harm against such simple ignorance of the world. What had + they not saved her from, poor, foolish child? She clenched her little, + gloved hand and struck it against the sofa arm, the hot color flaming up + on her cheeks and the fire lighting in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she exclaimed, “that is what is true! You are going to do + something that is dreadful to think of, though you do not think so because + you do not know the truth. And we have come to tell you the truth and save + you. That man is a villain,—he is the worst of villains. He does not + intend to marry you,—he cannot marry you, and, knowing he cannot, he + has been laying traps for months to drag you down into a horrible pit of + shame. Yes, of the bitterest grief and shame,—poor, simple child as + you are,—for I must tell you the whole dreadful truth, though I + would far rather hide it from you, if I could. There are some wicked, + wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of the worst, + for he has got a wife already.” + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and + confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out of + her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a wild, + appealing look. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't true,” she insisted, desperately; but her voice was broken, and + she sobbed out her words in her fright. “It is n't true! It is n't true! + You want to frighten me.” And all at once she ran to Ralph Gowan like a + child, and caught hold of his arm with her pretty, shaking hands. “Mr. + Gowan,” she said, “you know, don't you? and you won't—you won't—Oh, + where is Aimée? I want Aimée! Aimée is n't like the rest of you! <i>She</i> + would have made me go home without being so cruel as this.” And the next + minute she turned so white and staggered so, that Dolly ran to her, and + Gowan was obliged to take her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her that what I have said is true,” said Dolly, crying. “She will + begin to understand then.” + </p> + <p> + And so, while he held her, panting and sobbing and clinging to him, Gowan + told her all that he had learned. He was as brief as possible and as + tender as a woman. His heart so warmed toward the pretty, lovable, + passionately frightened creature, that his voice was far from steady as he + told his story. + </p> + <p> + She did not rebel an instant longer, then. Her terror, under the shock, + rendered her only helpless and hysterical. She had so far lost control + over herself that she would have believed anything they had chosen to tell + her. + </p> + <p> + “Take me away,” she cried, whitening and shivering, all her bright, pretty + color gone, all her wilful petulance struck down at a blow. “Take me home,—take + me home to Aimée. I want to go away from here before he comes. I want to + go home and die.” + </p> + <p> + How they got her down-stairs and into the carriage, Dolly scarcely knows. + It was enough that they got her there and knew she was safe. Upon the + table in the room above they had left a note directed to Mr. Gerald + Chandos,—Dolly had directed it and Dolly had written it. + </p> + <p> + “Is there pen and ink here?” she had asked Gowan; and when he had produced + the articles, she had bent over the table and dashed a few lines off with + an unsteady yet determined hand. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she had said, when she closed the envelope. “Mr. Chandos will go + to Brussels, I think, and he will understand why he goes alone, and, for + my part, I incline to the belief that he will not trouble us again.” + </p> + <p> + And in five minutes more they were driving toward Bloomsbury Place. + </p> + <p> + But now the first excitement was over, Dolly's nerve began to fail her. + Now that Mollie was safe, she began to think of Griffith. It seemed a + cruel trick of fortune's to try his patience so sharply just at this very + point. She knew so well what effect his hours of waiting would have upon + him. But it was useless to rebel now; so she must bear it as well as she + could, and trust to the result of her explanation. Yet despite her hope, + every minute of the long drive seemed an age, and she grew feverish and + restless and wretched. What if he had not waited, and was not there to + listen to what she had to say? Then there would be all the old trouble to + face again,—perhaps something worse. + </p> + <p> + “It is nine o'clock,” she said, desperately, as they passed a lighted + church tower. “It is nine o'clock.” And she leaned back in her corner + again, with her heart beating strongly. Her disappointment was so keen + that she could have burst into a passion of tears. Her happy evening was + gone, and her dream of simple pleasure had fled with its sacrificed hours. + She could not help remembering this, and being quite conquered by the + thought, even though Mollie was safe. + </p> + <p> + They had settled what to do beforehand. At the corner of the street Gowan + was to leave them, and the two girls were to go in together, Mollie making + her way at once to her room upon pretext of headache. A night's rest would + restore her self-control, and by the next morning she would be calm enough + to face the rest, and so her wild escapade would end without risk of + comment if she was sufficiently discreet to keep her own counsel. At + present she was too thoroughly upset and frightened even to feel + humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly half-past nine,” said Gowan, as he assisted them to descend to the + pavement at their journey's end. + </p> + <p> + The light from an adjacent lamp showed him that the face under Dolly's hat + was very pale and excited, and her eyes were shining and large with + repressed tears as she gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot find words to thank you just yet,” she said, low and hurriedly. + “I wish I could; but—you know what you have helped me to save Mollie + from to-night, and so you know what my gratitude must be. The next time I + see you, perhaps, I shall be able to say what I wish, but now I can only + say goodnight, and—oh, God bless you!” And the little hand fairly + wrung his. + </p> + <p> + Mollie shook hands with him, trembling and almost reluctantly. She was + pale, too, and her head drooped as if it would nevermore regain the old + trick of wilful, regal carriage. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very kind to take so much trouble,” she said. “You were + kinder than I deserved,—both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Dolly, when he sprang into the cab, and they turned away + together,—"now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. + No,” trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great + matter, “you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over + now, and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You + have been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is + all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and a + headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a + heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow—but it isn't. But, Mollie,” + they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and she + turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking + tremulously, “when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say + your prayers, and thank God that it is n't,—thank God that it is + n't, with all your heart and soul.” And she kissed her cheek softly just + as they heard Aimée coming down the hall to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly!” she exclaimed when she saw them, “where have you been? Griffith + has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given + you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by + something.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been delayed by something,” said Dolly, her heart failing her + again. “And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, + Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely ten minutes,” was the answer. “It is a wonder you did not meet + him. Oh, Dolly!” ominously, “how unlucky you are!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> unlucky,” she said; and without saying more, she made her way + into the parlor. + </p> + <p> + She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless + of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the + room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its + cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk + low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;—somehow + or other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late for + the brightness and warmth,—a few hours before it had been bright and + warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now? She + dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed + feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and + had gone home! + </p> + <p> + “It's too bad!” she cried. “It is cruel! I can't bear it! Oh, Grif, <i>do</i> + come!” And her tears fell thick and fast. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later she started up with a little cry of joy and relief. That + was his footstep upon the pavement, and before he had time to ring she was + at the door. She could scarcely speak to him in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Grif!” she said; “Grif—darling!” + </p> + <p> + But he did not offer to touch her, and strode past her outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Come into this room with me,” he said, hoarsely; and the simple sound of + his voice struck her to the heart like a blow. + </p> + <p> + She followed him, trembling, and when they stood in the light, and she saw + his deathly, passion-wrung face, her hand crept up to her side and pressed + against it. + </p> + <p> + He had a package in his hand,—a package of letters,—and he + laid them down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have been home for these,” he said. “Your letters,—I have brought + them back to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Grif!” she cried out. + </p> + <p> + He waved her back. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “never mind that. It is too late for that now, that is all + over. Good God! all over!” and he panted for breath. “I have been in this + room waiting for you,” he struggled on, “since five o'clock. I came with + my heart full to the brim. I have dreamt about what this evening was to be + to us every night for a week. I was ready to kneel and kiss your feet. I + waited hour after hour. I was ready to pray—yes, to <i>pray</i>, + like a fool—that I might hold you in my arms before the night ended. + Not half an hour ago I went out to see if you were coming. And you were + coming. At the corner of the street you were bidding good-night to—to + Ralph Gowan—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she burst forth. “Mollie was with me— + </p> + <p> + “Ralph Gowan was with you,” he answered her; “it does not matter who else + was there. You had spent those hours in which I wanted you with him. That + was enough,—nothing can alter that.” And then all at once he came + and stood near her, and looked down at her with such anguish in his eyes + that she could have shrieked aloud. “It was a poor trick to play, Dolly,” + he said; “so poor a one, that it was scarcely like you. Your coquetries + had always a fairer look. The commonest jilt might have done such a thing + as that, and almost have done it better. It is an old trick, too, this + playing the poor fool against the rich one. The only merit of your play + has been that you have kept it up so long.” + </p> + <p> + He was almost mad, but he might have seen that he was trying her too far, + and that she would break down all at once. The long strain of the whole + evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against wretchedness—all + were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak, and, failing, fought + for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical sob, like a child's, + and then turned white and shivered, without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “a long time, Dolly"—but his sentence was never + ended, for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay + near his feet quivering for a second, and then lying still. + </p> + <p> + He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and + carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to + have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its + simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was mad + enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the cruel, + ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when he turned + away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had died out of his + face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very youth had dropped away + from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams behind, with something like + self-scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said; “we have lost a great deal, Dolly—or I have lost + it, I might say. And even you—I believe it pleased even you until + better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out + into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when, a few + minutes later, Aimée came running down to answer the strange summons, she + found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face upon the + sofa-cushion, and the great package of those old, sweet, foolish letters + upon the table. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + </h2> + <p> + IT was all over,—all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this + much when she opened her eyes, and found Aimée bending over her. + </p> + <p> + “Has he gone?” she had asked. “Did he go away and leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean Grif?” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + She made a weak gesture of assent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Aimée answered. “He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and + found you lying here when I came to see what it meant.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Dolly, “all is over,—all is over at last.” And she + turned her face upon the cushion and lay so still that she scarcely seemed + to breathe. + </p> + <p> + “Take another drink of water, Dolly,” said Aimée, keeping back her + questions with her usual discretion. “You must, dear.” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly did not stir. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any more,” she said. “I am not going to faint again. You + have no need to be afraid. I don't easily faint, you know, and I should + not have fainted just now only—that the day has been a very hard one + for me, and somehow I lost strength all at once. I am not ill,—only + worn out.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be very much worn out, then,” said Aimée; “more worn out than I + ever saw you before. You had better let me help you up-stairs to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to bed yet!” in a strange, choked voice, and the next + moment Aimée saw her hands clench themselves and her whole frame begin to + shake. “Shut the door and lock it,” she said, wildly. “I can't stop + myself. Give me some sal volatile. I can't breathe.” And such a fit of + suffocating sobbing came upon her that she writhed and battled for air. + </p> + <p> + Aimée flung herself upon her knees by her side, shedding tears herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly,” she pleaded, “Dolly, darling, don't. Try to help yourself + against it. I know what the trouble is. He went away angry and + disappointed, and it has frightened you. Oh, please don't, darling. He + will come back to-morrow; he will, indeed. He always does, you know, and + he will be so sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone forever,” Dolly panted, when she could speak. “He will never + come back. To-night has been different from any other time. No,” gasping + and sobbing, “it is fate. Fate is against us,—it always was against + us. I think God is against us; and oh, how can He be? He might pity us,—we + tried so hard and loved each other so much. We did n't ask for anything + but each other,—we did n't want anything but that we might be + allowed to cling together all our lives and work and help each other. Oh, + Grif, my darling,—oh, Grif, my dear, my dear!” And the sobs rising + again and conquering her were such an agony that Aimée caught her in her + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, “you must not, you must not, indeed. You will die, you + can't bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she wailed, “I can't bear it,—that is what it is. I can't bear + it. It is too hard to bear. But there is no one to help me,—God + won't. He does not care for us, or He would have given us just one little + crumb out of all He has to give. What can a poor helpless girl be to Him? + He is too high and great to care for our poor little powerless griefs. Oh, + how wicked I am!” in a fresh burst. “See how I rebel at the first real + blow. It is because I am so wicked, perhaps, that all has been taken from + me,—all I had in the world. It is because I loved Grif best. I have + read in books that it was always so. Oh, why is it? I can't understand it. + It seems cruel,—yes, it does seem cruel,—as cruel as death, to + give him to me only that I might suffer when he was taken away. Oh, Grif, + my darling! Grif, my love, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + This over again and again, with wild, heart-broken weeping, until she was + so worn out that she could cry no more, and lay upon Aimée's arm upon the + cushion, white and exhausted, with heavy purple rings about her wearied, + sunken eyes. It was not until then that Aimée heard the whole truth. She + had only been able to guess at it before, and now, hearing the + particulars, she could not help fearing the worst. + </p> + <p> + It was just as she had feared it would be; another blow had come upon him + at the very time when he was least able to bear it, and it had been too + much for him. But she could not reveal her forebodings to Dolly. She must + comfort her and persuade her to hope for the best. + </p> + <p> + “You must go to bed, Dolly,” she said, “and try to sleep, and in the + morning everything will look different. He may come, you know,—it + would be just like him to come before breakfast. But if he does not come—suppose,” + hesitatingly,—"suppose I was to write to him, or—suppose you + were to?” + </p> + <p> + She was half afraid that pride would rise against this plan, but she was + mistaken. Seven years of love had mastered pride. Somehow or other, pride + had never seemed to come between them in their little quarrels, each had + always been too passionately eager to concede, and too sure of being met + with tenderest penitence. Dolly had always known too confidently that her + first relenting word would touch Grifs heart, and Grif had always been + sure that his first half-softened reproach would bring the girl to his + arms in an impetuous burst of loving repentance. No, it was scarcely + likely that other people's scruples would keep them apart. So Dolly caught + at the proposal almost eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I will write and tell him how it was. It was not his + fault, was it, Aimée? How could I have borne such a thing myself? It would + have driven me wild, as it did him. It was not unreasonable at all that he + should refuse to listen, in his first excitement, after he had waited all + those hours and suffered such a disappointment. And then to see what he + did. My poor boy! he was not to blame at all. Yes, yes,” feverishly, “I + will write to him and tell him. Suppose I write now—don't you think + I had better do it now, and then he will get the letter in the morning, + and he will be sure to come before dinner,—he will be sure to come, + won't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He always did,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Always,” said Dolly. “Indeed, I never had to write to him before to bring + him. He always came without being written to. There never was any one like + him for being tender and penitent. You always said so, Aimée. And just + think how often I have tried his patience! I sometimes wish I could help + doing things,—flirting, you know, and making a joke of it. He never + flirted in his life, poor darling, and what right had I to do it? When he + comes to-morrow I will tell him how sorry I am for everything, and I will + promise to be better. I have not been half so good as he has. I wish I + had. I should not have hurt him so often if I had.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been a little thoughtless sometimes,” said Aimée. “Perhaps it <i>would</i> + have been better if you could have helped it.” + </p> + <p> + “A little thoughtless,” said Dolly, restlessly. “I have been wickedly + thoughtless sometimes. And I have made so many resolutions and broken them + all. And I ought to have been doubly thoughtful, because he had so much to + bear. If he had been prosperous and happy it would not have mattered half + so much. But it was all my vanity. You don't know how vain I am, Aimée. I + quite hate myself when I think of it. It is the wanting people to admire + me,—everybody, men and women, and even children,—particularly + among Lady Augusta's set, where there is a sort of fun in it. And then I + flirt before I know; and then, of course, Grif cannot help seeing it. I + wonder that he has borne with me so long.” + </p> + <p> + She was quite feverish in her anxiety to condemn herself and exculpate her + lover. She did not droop her face against the pillow, but roused herself, + turning toward Aimée, and talking fast and eagerly. A bright spot of color + came out on either cheek, though for the rest she was pale enough. But to + Aimée's far-seeing eyes there was something so forced and unnaturally + strung in her sudden change of mood that she felt a touch of dread Suppose + something should crush her newly formed hopes,—something terrible + and unforeseen! She felt a chill strike her to the heart at the mere + thought of such a possibility. She knew Dolly better than the rest of them + did,—knew her highly strung temperament, and feared it, too. She + might be spirited and audacious and thoughtless, but a blow coming through + Grif would crush her to the earth. + </p> + <p> + “You—you mustn't set your heart too much upon his getting the letter + in the morning, Dolly,” she said. “He might be away when it came, or—or + twenty things, and he might not see it until night, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dolly, “I will write it at once if you will give me the pen + and ink. The earlier it is posted the earlier he will get it.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to rise then; but when she stood up her strength seemed to fail + her, and she staggered and caught at Aimee's arm. But the next minute she + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “How queer that one little faint should make me so weak!” she said. “I am + weak,—actually. I shall feel right enough when I sit down, though.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down at the table with her writing materials, and Aimée remained + upon the sofa watching her. Her hand trembled when she wrote the first few + lines, but she seemed to become steadier afterward, and her pen dashed + over the paper without a pause for a few minutes. The spot of color on her + cheeks faded and burned by turns,—sometimes it was gone, and again + it was scarlet, and before the second page was finished tears were falling + soft and fast. Once she even stopped to wipe them away, because they + blinded her; but when she closed the envelope she did not look exactly + unhappy, though her whole face was tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “He will come back,” she said, softly. “He will come back when he reads + this, I know. I wish it was to-morrow. To-morrow night he will be here, + and we shall have our happy evening after all. I can excuse myself to Miss + MacDowlas for another day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Aimée, a trifle slowly, as she took <i>it</i> from her hand. + “I will send Belinda out with it now.” And she carried it out of the room. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes she returned. “She has taken it,” she said. “And now you + had better go to bed, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly's color had faded again, and she was resting her forehead upon + her hands, with a heavy, anxious, worn look, which spoke of sudden + reaction. She lifted her face with a half-absent air. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will be in time for to-night's post,” she said. “Do you think + it will?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure, but I hope so. You must come to bed, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She got up without saying more, and followed her out into the hall, but at + the foot of the staircase she stopped. “I have not seen Tod,” she said. + “Let us go into 'Toinette's room and ask her to let us have him to-night. + We can carry him up-stairs without wakening him. I have done it many a + time. I should like to have him in my arms to-night.” + </p> + <p> + So they turned into Mrs. Phil's room, and found that handsome young matron + sitting in her dressing-gown before the fire, brushing out her great dark + mantle of hair. + </p> + <p> + “Don't waken Tod,” she cried out, as usual; and then when she saw Dolly + she broke into a whispered volley of wondering questions. Where in the + world had she been? What had she been doing with herself until such an + hour? Where was Grif? Was n't he awfully vexed? What had he said when she + came in? All of which inquiries the two parried as best they might. + </p> + <p> + As to Tod—well, Tod turned her thoughts in another direction. He was + a beauty, and a king, and a darling, and he was growing sweeter and + brighter every day,—which comments, by the way, were always the + first made upon the subject of the immortal Tod. He was so amiable, too, + and so clever and so little trouble. He went to sleep in his crib every + night at seven, and never awakened until morning. Aunt Dolly might look at + him now with those two precious middle fingers in his little mouth. And + Aunt Dolly did look at him, lifting the cover slightly, and bending over + him as he lay there making a deep dent in his small, plump pillow,—a + very king of babies, soft and round and warm, the white lids drooped and + fast closed over his dark eyes, their long fringes making a faint shadow + on his fair, smooth baby cheeks, the two fingers in his sweet mouth, the + round, cleft chin turned up, the firm, tiny white pillar of a throat bare. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my bonny baby!” cried Dolly, the words rising from the bottom of her + heart, “how fair and sweet you are!” + </p> + <p> + They managed to persuade Mrs. Phil to allow them to take possession of him + for the night; and when they went up-stairs Dolly carried him, folded + warmly in his downy blanket, and held close and tenderly in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Dolly's precious!” Aimée heard her whispering to him as she gave him + a last soft good-night kiss before they fell asleep. “Aunt Dolly's + comfort! Everything is not gone so long as he is left.” + </p> + <p> + But she evidently passed a restless night. When Aimée awakened in the + morning she found her standing by the bedside, dressed and looking + colorless and heavy-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “I never was so glad to see morning in my life,” she said. “I thought the + day would never break. I—I wonder how long it will be before Grif + will be reading his letter?” + </p> + <p> + “He may get it before nine o'clock,” answered Aimée; “but don't trouble + about it, or the day will seem twice as long. Take Tod down-stairs and + wash and dress him. It will give you something else to think of.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one herself had not slept well. Truth to say, she was troubled + about more matters than one. She was troubled to account for the meaning + of Dolly's absence with Gowan. Even in her excitement, Dolly had not felt + the secret quite her own, and had only given a skeleton explanation of the + true state of affairs. + </p> + <p> + “It was something about Mollie and Gerald Chan-dos,” she had said; “and if + I had not gone it would have been worse than death to Mollie. Don't ask me + to tell you exactly what it was, because I can't. Perhaps Mollie will + explain herself before many days are over. She always tells you + everything, you know. But it was no real fault of here; she was silly, but + not wicked, and she is safe from Gerald Chandos now forever. And <i>I</i> + saved her, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + And so the wise one had lain awake and thought of all sorts of possible + and impossible escapades. But as she was dressing herself this morning, + the truth flashed upon her, though it was scarcely the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + “She was going to elope with him,” she exclaimed all at once; “<i>that</i> + was what she was going to do. Oh, Mollie, Mollie, what a romantic goose + you are!” + </p> + <p> + And having reached this solution, she closed her small, determined mouth + in discreet silence, resolving to wait for Mollie's confession, which she + knew was sure to come sooner or later. As to Mollie herself, she came down + subdued and silent. She had slept off the effects of her first shock, but + had by no means forgotten it. She would never forget it, poor child, as + long as she lived, and she was so grateful to find herself safe in the + shabby rooms again, that she had very little to say; and since she was in + so novel a mood, the members of the family who were not in the secret + decided that her headache must have been a very severe one indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say anything to her about Grif,” Dolly cautioned Aimée, “it would + only trouble her.” And so the morning passed; but even at twelve o'clock + there was no Grif, and Dolly began to grow restless and walk to and fro + from the window to the hearth at very short intervals. Dinner-hour + arrived, too, but still no arrival; and Dolly sat at the table, among + them, eating nothing and saying little enough. How could she talk when + every step upon the pavement set her heart bounding? When dinner was over + and Phil had gone back to the studio, she looked so helpless and + woe-begone that Aimée felt constrained to comfort her. + </p> + <p> + “It may have been delayed,” she whispered to her, “or he may have left the + house earlier than usual, and so won't see it until to-night. He will be + here to-night, Dolly, depend upon it.” + </p> + <p> + And so they waited. Ah, how that window was watched that afternoon! How + often Dolly started from her chair and ran to look out, half suffocated by + her heart-beatings! But it was of no avail. As twilight came on she took + her station before it, and knelt upon the carpet for an hour watching; but + in the end she turned away all at once, and, running to the fire again, + caught Tod up in her arms, and startled Aimée by bursting into a passion + of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tod!” she sobbed, “he is not coming! He will never come again,—he + has left us forever! Oh, Tod, love poor Aunt Dolly, darling.” And she hid + her face on the little fellow's shoulder, crying piteously. + </p> + <p> + She did not go to the window again. When she was calmer, she remained on + her chair, colorless and exhausted, but clinging to Tod still in a queer + pathetic way, and letting him pull at her collar and her ribbons and her + hair. The touch of his relentless baby hands and his pretty, tyrannical, + restless ways seemed to help her a little and half distract her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + She became quieter and quieter as the evening waned; indeed, she was so + quiet that Aimée wondered. She was strangely pale; but she did not start + when footsteps were heard on the street, and she ceased turning toward the + door when it opened. + </p> + <p> + “He—he may come in the morning,” Aimée faltered as they went + up-stairs to bed. + </p> + <p> + “No, he will not,” she answered her, quite steadily. “It will be as I said + it would,—he will never come again.” + </p> + <p> + But when they reached their room, the unnatural, strained quiet gave way, + and she flung herself upon the bed, sobbing and fighting against just the + hysterical suffering which had conquered her the night before. + </p> + <p> + It was the very ghost of the old indomitable Dolly who rose the next + morning. Her hands shook as she dressed her hair, and there were shadows + under her eyes. But she must go back to Brabazon Lodge, notwithstanding. + </p> + <p> + “I can say I have a nervous headache,” she said to Aimée. “Nervous + headaches are useful things.” + </p> + <p> + “If a letter comes,” said Aimée, “I will bring it to you myself.” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned toward her suddenly, her eyes hard and bright and her + mouth working. + </p> + <p> + “I have had my last letter,” she said. “My last letters came to me when + Grif laid that package upon the table. He has done with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Done with you?” cried Aimée, frightened by her manner. “With <i>you</i>, + Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time Dolly flushed scarlet to the very roots of her + hair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “he has done with me. If there had been half a chance + that he would ever come near me again, the letter I wrote to him that + night would have brought him. A word of it would have brought him,—the + first word. But he is having his revenge by treating it with contempt. He + is showing me that it is too late, and that no humility on my part can + touch him. I scarcely could have thought that of him,” dropping into a + chair by the toilet-table and hiding her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It is not like Grif to let me humble myself for nothing. And I did humble + myself,—ah, how I did humble myself! That letter,—if you could + have seen it, Aimée,—it was all on fire with love for him. I laid + myself under his feet,—and he has trodden me down! Grif—Grif, + it was n't like you,—it was n't worthy of you,—it was n't + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Her worst enemy would have felt herself avenged if she had heard the + anguish in her voice. She was crushed to the earth under this last great + blow of feeling that he had altered so far. Grif,—her whilom + greatest help and comfort,—the best gift God had given her! Dear, + old, tender, patient fellow! as she had been wont to call him in her fits + of penitence. + </p> + <p> + Grif, whose arms had always been open to her at her best and at her worst, + who had loved her and borne with her, and waited upon her and done her + bidding since they were both little more than children. When had Grif ever + turned from her before? Never. When had Grif ever been cold or unfaithful + in word or deed? Never. When had he ever failed her? Never—never—never—until + now! And now that he had failed her at last, she felt that the bitter end + had come. The end to everything,—to all the old hopes and dreams, to + all the old sweet lovers' quarrels and meetings and partings, to all their + clinging together, to all the volumes and volumes of love and trust that + lay in the past, to all the world of simple bliss that lay still + unrevealed in their lost future, to all the blessed old days when they had + pictured to each other what that future was to be. It had all gone for + nothing in the end. It must all have gone for nothing, when Grif—a + new Grif—not her own true, stanch, patient darling—not her own + old lover—could read her burning, tender, suffering words and pass + them by without a word of answer. And with this weight of despair and pain + upon her heart, she went back to the wearisome routine of Brabazon Lodge,—went + back heavy with humiliation and misery which she scarcely realized,—went + back suffering as no one who knew her—not even Grif himself—could + ever have understood that it was possible for her to suffer. No innocent + coquetries now, no spirit, no jests; for the present at least she had done + with them, too. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in your usual spirits, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, quietly, “I am not.” + </p> + <p> + This state of affairs continued for four days, and then one morning, + sitting at her sewing in the breakfast-room, she was startled almost + beyond self-control by a servant's announcement that a visitor had + arrived. + </p> + <p> + “One of your sisters, ma'am,” said the parlor-maid. “Not the youngest, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + She was in the room in two seconds, and flew to Aimée, trembling all over + with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Not a letter!” she cried, hysterically. “It is n't a letter,—it + can't be!” And she put her hand to her side and fairly panted. + </p> + <p> + The poor little wise one confronted her with something like fear. She + could not bear to tell her the ill news she had come to break. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly, dear!” she said, “please sit down; and—please don't look at + me so. It isn't good news. I must tell you the truth; it is bad news, + cruel news. Oh, don't look so!” + </p> + <p> + They were standing near the sofa, and Dolly gave one little moan, and sank + down beside it. + </p> + <p> + “Cruel news!” she cried, throwing up her hand. “Yes, I might have known + that,—I might have known that it would be cruel, if it was news at + all Every one is cruel,—the whole world is cruel; even Grif,—even + Grif!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly, I did my best for you!” she said. “I did, indeed; but you must + try to bear it, dear,—it is your own letter back again.” + </p> + <p> + Then the kneeling figure seemed to stiffen and grow rigid in a second. + Dolly turned her deathly face, with her eyes aflame and dilated. + </p> + <p> + “Did <i>he</i> send it back to me?” she asked, in a slow, fearful whisper. + </p> + <p> + Her expression was so hard and dreadful a one that Aimée sprang to her + side and caught hold of her. + </p> + <p> + “No,—no!” she said; “not so bad as that! He would never have done + that. He has never had it. He has gone away; we don't know where. It came + from the dead-letter office.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly took the letter from her and opened it slowly, and there, as she + knelt, read it, word for word, as if it had been something she had never + seen before. Then she put it back into the envelope and laid it down. + </p> + <p> + “A dead letter!” she said. “A dead letter! If <i>he</i> had sent it back + to me, I think it would have cured me; but <i>now</i> there is no cure for + me at all. If he had read it, he would have come,—if he had <i>only</i> + read it; but it is a dead letter, and he is gone.” + </p> + <p> + There were no tears, the blow had been too heavy. It was only Aimée who + had tears to shed, and it was Dolly who tried to console her in a + strained, weary sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” she said, “it is all over now. Perhaps the worst part of the + pain is past. There will be no house at Putney, and the solitary rose-bush + will bloom for some one else; they may sell the green sofa, now, as cheap + as they will, we shall never buy it. Our seven years of waiting have all + ended in a dead letter.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + </h2> + <p> + AND so Grif disappeared from the haunts of Vagabondia, and was seen no + more. And to Aimée was left the delicate task of explaining the cause of + his absence, which, it must be said, she did in a manner at once + creditable to her tact and affection for both Dolly and the unconscious + cause of all her misery. + </p> + <p> + “There has been a misunderstanding,” she said, “which was no fault of + Dolly's, and scarcely a fault of Grif's; and it has ended very unhappily, + and Grif has gone away, and just at present it seems as if everything was + over,—but I can't help hoping it is not so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he will come back again—safe enough,” commented Phil, + philosophically, holding paint-brush No. 1 in his mouth, while he + manipulated with No. 2. “He will come back in sackcloth and ashes; he is + just that sort, you know,—thunder and lightning, fire and tow. And + they will make it up ecstatically in secret, and pretend that nothing has + been the matter, and there will be no going into the parlor for weeks + without whistling all the way across the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I always go in backward after they have had a quarrel,” said Mollie, + looking up from a half-made pinafore of Tod's, which, in the zeal of her + repentance, she had decided on finishing. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bad plan, either,” said Phil “We all know how <i>their</i> + differences of opinion terminate. As to matters being at an end between + them, that is all nonsense; they could n't live without each other six + months. Dolly would take to unbecoming bonnets, and begin to neglect her + back hair, and Grif would take to prussic acid or absinthe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope he <i>will</i> come back,” said Aimée; “but, in the + meantime, I want to ask you to let the affair rest altogether, and not say + a word to Dolly when she comes. It will be the kindest thing you can do. + Just let things go on as they have always done, and ignore every thing new + you may see.” + </p> + <p> + Phil looked up from his easel in sudden surprise; something in her voice + startled him, serenely as he was apt to view all unexpected intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he broke out, “you don't mean that Dolly is very much cut up + about it?” + </p> + <p> + The fair little oracle hesitated; remembering Dolly's passionate despair + and grief over that “dead letter,” she could scarcely trust herself to + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered at last, feeling it would be best only to commit + herself in Phil's own words, “she is very much cut up.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” whistled Phil; “that is worse than I thought!” And the matter + ended in his going back to his picture and painting furiously for a few + minutes, with an almost reflective air. + </p> + <p> + They did not see anything of Dolly for weeks. She wrote to them now and + then, but she did not pay another visit to Bloomsbury Place. It was not + the old home to her now, and she dreaded seeing it in its new aspect,—the + aspect which was desolate of Grif. Most of her letters came to Aimée; but + she rarely referred to her trouble, rather seeming to avoid it than + otherwise. And the letters themselves were bright enough, seeming, too. + She had plenty to say about Miss MacDowlas and their visitors and her own + duties; indeed, any one but Aimée would have been puzzled by her courage + and apparent good spirits. But Aimée saw below the surface, and + understood, and, understanding, was fonder of her than ever. + </p> + <p> + As both Dolly and herself had expected, Mollie did not keep her secret + from the oracle many weeks. It was too much for her to bear alone, and one + night, in a fit of candor and remorse, she poured out everything from + first to last, all her simple and unsophisticated dreams of grandeur, all + her gullibility, all her danger,—everything, indeed, but the story + of her pitiful little fancy for Ralph Gowan. She could not give that up, + even to Aimée, though at the close of her confidence she was unable to + help referring to him. + </p> + <p> + “And as to Mr. Gowan,” she said, “how can I ever speak to him again! but, + perhaps, he would not speak to me. He must think I am wicked and bold and + hardened—and bad,” with a fresh sob at every adjective. “Oh, dear! + oh, dear!” burying her face in Aimée's lap, “if I had only stayed at home + and been good, like you. He could have respected me, at least, couldn't + he? And now—oh, what am I to do!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée could not help sighing. If she only <i>had</i> stayed at home, how + much happier they all might have been! But she had promised Dolly not to + add to her unhappiness by hinting at the truth, so she kept her own + counsel. + </p> + <p> + It was fully three months before they saw Ralph Gowan again. He had gone + on the Continent, they heard. A feeling of delicacy had prompted the + journey. As long as he remained in London, he could scarcely drop out of + his old friendly position at Bloomsbury Place, and he felt that for a + while at least Mollie would scarcely find it easy to face him. So he went + away and rambled about until he thought she would have time to get over + her first embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + But at the end of the three months he came back, and one afternoon + surprised them all by appearing amongst them again. Mollie, sitting + perseveringly at work over her penitential sewing, shrank a little, and + dropped her eyelids when he came in, but she managed to behave with + creditable evenness of manner after all, and the rest welcomed him warmly. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to Brabazon Lodge,” he said at length to Aimée. “I spent + Monday evening there, and was startled at the change I found in your + sister. I did not know she was ill.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée started herself, and looked up at him with a frightened face. + </p> + <p> + “Ill!” she said. “Did you say ill?” + </p> + <p> + It was his turn to be surprised then. + </p> + <p> + “I thought her looking ill,” he answered. “She seemed to me to be both + paler and thinner. But you must not let me alarm you,—I thought, of + course, that you would know.” + </p> + <p> + “She has never mentioned it in her letters,” Aimée said. “And she has not + been home for three months, so we have not seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let me give you a false impression,” returned Gowan, eagerly. “She + seemed in excellent spirits, and was quite her old self; indeed, I + scarcely should imagine that she herself placed sufficient stress upon the + state of her health. She insisted that she was well when I spoke to her + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad you told me,” answered Aimée. “She is too indifferent + sometimes. I am afraid she would not have let us know. I thank you, very + much.” + </p> + <p> + He had other thanks before he left the house. As he was going out, Mollie, + in her character of porteress, opened the hall door for him, and, having + opened it, stood there with Tod's new garment half concealed, a pair of + timid eyes uplifted to his face, a small, trembling, feverish hand held + out. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, in a low, fluttering voice. “Oh, if you please—” + </p> + <p> + He took the little hot hand, feeling some tender remorse for not having + tried to draw her out more and help her out of her painful shyness and + restraint. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mollie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I want—I want,” fluttering all over,—"I want to thank you + better than I did that—that dreadful night. I was so frightened I + could scarcely understand. I understand more—now—and I want to + tell you how grateful I am—and how grateful I shall be until I die—and + I want to ask you to try not to think I was very wicked. I did not mean to + be wicked—I was only vain and silly, and I thought it would be such + a grand thing to—to have plenty of new dresses,” hanging her sweet, + humble face, “and to wear diamonds, and be Lady Chandos, if—if Mr. + Chandos came into the title. Of course that was wicked, but it was n't—I + was n't as bad as I seemed. I was so vain that—that I was quite sure + he loved me, and would be very glad if I married him. He always said he + would.” And the tears rolled fast down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mollie!” said Gowan, patting the trembling hand as if it had been a + baby's. “Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” Mollie struggled on, penitently, “I shall never be so foolish + again. And I am going to try to be good—like Aimée. I am learning to + mend things; and I am beginning to make things for Tod. This,” holding up + her work as proof, “is a dress for him. It is n't very well done,” with + innocent dubiousness; “but Aimée says I am improving. And so, if you + please, would you be so kind as not to think quite so badly of me?” + </p> + <p> + It was all so humble and pretty and remorseful that he was quite touched + by it. That old temptation to kiss and console her made it quite dangerous + for him to linger. She was such a lovable sight with her tear-wet cheeks, + and that dubious but faithfully worked-at garment of Tod's in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “will you believe what I say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I say to you that I never believed you wicked for an instant,—not + for one instant; and now I believe it less than ever; on the contrary, I + believe you are a good, honest little creature. Let us forget Gerald + Chandos,—he is not worth remembering. And go on with Tod's pinafores + and dresses, my dear, and don't be discouraged if they are a failure at + first,—though to my eyes that dress is a most sumptuous affair. And + as to being like Aimée, you cannot be like any one better and wiser and + sweeter than that same little maiden. There! I mean every word I have + said.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” faltered Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with her, and, bidding her goodnight, left her standing in + the narrow hall all aglow with joy. And he, outside, was communing with + himself as he walked away. + </p> + <p> + “She is as sweet in her way as—as the other,” he was saying. “And as + well worth loving. And what a face she has, if one only saw it with a + lover's eyes! What a face she has, even seeing it with such impartial eyes + as mine!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Dolly!” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Aimée!” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + These were the first words the two exchanged when, the evening after Ralph + Gowan's visit, the anxious young oracle presented herself at Brabazon + Lodge, and was handed into Dolly's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Visitors were expected, and Dolly had been dressing, and was just putting + the finishing touches to her toilet when Aimée came in, and, seeing her as + she turned from the glass to greet her, the wise one could scarcely speak, + and, even after she had been kissed most heartily, could only hold the + girl's hand and stand looking up into her changed face, feeling almost + shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me, Dolly!” she said again. “Oh, my dear, what have you been + doing to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing!” echoed Dolly, just as she would have spoken three or four months + ago. “I have been doing nothing, and rather enjoying it. What is the + matter with me?” glancing into the mirror. “Pale? That is the result of + Miss MacDowlas's beneficence, you see. She has presented me with this + grand black silk gown, and it makes me look pale. Black always did, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + But notwithstanding her readiness of speech, it did not need another + glance to understand what Ralph Gowan had meant when he said that she was + altered. The lustreless heavy folds of her black silk might contrast + sharply with her white skin, but they could not bring about that subtle, + almost incomprehensible change in her whole appearance. It was such a + subtle change that it was difficult to comprehend. The round, lissome + figure she had always been so pardonably vain about, and Grif had so + admired, had fallen a little, giving just a hint at a greater change which + might show itself sooner or later; her face seemed a trifle more clearly + cut than it ought to have been, and the slender throat, set in its + surrounding Elizabethan frill of white, seemed more slender than it had + used to be. Each change was slight enough in itself, but all together gave + a shadowy suggestion of alteration to affectionately quick eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill,” said Aimée. “And you never told me. It was wrong of you. + Don't tell me it is your black dress; your eyes are too big and bright for + any one who is well, and your hand is thinner than it ever was before. + Why, I can feel the difference as I hold it, and it is as feverish as it + can be.” + </p> + <p> + “You good, silly little thing!” said Dolly, laughing. “I am not ill at + all. I have caught a cold, perhaps, but that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “No you have not,” contradicted Aimée, with pitiful sharpness. “You have + not caught cold, and you must not tell me so. You are ill, and you have + been ill for weeks. The worst of colds could never make you look like + this. Mr. Gowan might well be startled and wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan!” Dolly interrupted her. “Did <i>he</i> say that he was + startled?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did,” Aimée answered. “And that was what brought me here. He was + at Bloomsbury Place last night and told me all about you, and I made up my + mind that minute that I would come and judge for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then the girl gave in. She sat down on a chair by the dressing-table and + rested her forehead on her hand, laughing faintly, as if in protest + against her own subjugation. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall have to submit,” she said. “The fact is, I sometimes fancy I + do feel weaker than I ought to. It is n't like me to be weak. I was always + so strong, you know,—stronger than all the rest of you, I thought. + Miss MacDowlas says I do not look well. I suppose,” with a half-sigh, + “that every one will see it soon. Aimée,” hesitating, “don't tell them at + home.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée slipped an arm around her, and drew her head—dressed in all + the old elaborateness of pretty coils and braids—upon her own + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Darling,” she whispered, trying to restrain her tears, “I must tell them + at home, because I must take you home to be nursed.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Dolly, starting, “that would never do. It would never do + even to think of it. I am not so ill as that,—not ill enough to be + nursed. Besides,” her voice sinking all at once, “I could n't go home, + Aimée,—I could not bear to go home now. That is why I have stayed + away so long. I believe it would <i>kill</i> me!” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for Aimée to hear this and be silent longer. She had, + indeed, only been waiting for some reference to the past. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it was that,” she cried. “I knew it the moment Mr. Gowan told me. + And I have feared it from the first. Nothing but that could have broken + you down like this. Dolly, if Grif could see you now, he would give his + heart's blood to undo what he has done.” + </p> + <p> + The pale little hands lying upon the black dress began to tremble in a + strange, piteous weakness. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot forget so much in so short a time,” Dolly pleaded. “And it is + so much,—more than even you think. One cannot forget seven years in + three months,—give me seven months, Aimée. I shall be better in + time, when I have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + Forgotten! Even those far duller of perception than Aimée could have seen + that she would not soon forget. She had not begun in the right way to + forget. The pain which had made the pretty figure and the soft, round face + look faintly worn, was sharper to-day than it had been even three months + before, and it was gaining in sharpness every day, nay, every hour. + </p> + <p> + “The days are so long,” she said, plaiting the silk of her dress on-the + restless hands. “We are so quiet, except when we have visitors, and + somehow visitors begin to tire me. I scarcely ever knew what it was to be + tired before. I don't care even to scatter the Philistines now,” trying to + smile. “I am not even roused by the prospect of meeting Lady Augusta + tonight. I forgot to tell you she was coming, did n't I? How she would + triumph if she knew how I have fallen and—and how miserable I am! + She used to say I had not a thought above the cut of my dresses. She never + knew about—<i>him</i>, poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + It was curious to see how she still clung to that tender old pitying way + of speaking of Grif. + </p> + <p> + Aimee began to cry over her again. + </p> + <p> + “You must come home, Dolly,” she said. “You must, indeed. You will get + worse and worse if you stay here. I will speak to Miss MacDowlas myself. + You say she is kind to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear little woman,” said Dolly, closing her eyes as she let her head rest + upon the girl's shoulder. “Dear, kind little woman! indeed it will be best + for me to stay here. It is as I said,—indeed it is. If I were to go + home I should <i>die!</i> Oh, don't you <i>know</i> how cruel it would be! + To sit there in my chair and see his old place empty,—to sit and + hear the people passing in the street and know I should never hear his + footstep again,—to see the door open again and again, and know he + would never, never pass through. It would break my heart,—it would + break my heart!” + </p> + <p> + “It is broken now!” cried Aimée, in a burst of grief, and she could + protest no more. + </p> + <p> + But she remained as long as she well could, petting and talking to her. + She knew better than to offer her threadbare commonplace comfort, so she + took refuge in talking of life at Bloomsbury Place,—about Tod and + Mollie and Toinette, and the new picture Phil was at work upon. But it was + a hard matter for her to control herself sufficiently to conceal that she + was almost in an agony of anxiousness and foreboding. What was she to do + with this sadly altered Dolly, the mainspring of whose bright, spirited + life was gone? How was she to help her if she could not restore Grif,—it + was only Grif she wanted,—and where was he? It was just as she had + always said it would be,—without Grif, Dolly was Dolly no longer,—for + Grif's sake her faithful, passionate girl's heart was breaking slowly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta, encountering her ex-governess in the drawing-room that + evening, raised her eyeglass to that noble feature, her nose, and + condescended a questioning inspection, full of disapproval of the heavy, + well-falling black silk and the Elizabethan frill. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking shockingly pale and thin,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Dolly glanced at her reflection in an adjacent mirror. She only smiled + faintly, in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware that you were ill,” proceeded her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say that I am ill,” Dolly answered. “How is Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Euphemia,” announced Lady Augusta, “is well, and I <i>trust</i>” as if + she rather doubted her having so far overcome old influences of an evil + nature,—"I <i>trust</i> improving, though I regret to hear from her + preceptress that she is singularly deficient in application to her musical + lessons.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly thought of the professor with the lumpy face, and smiled again. + Phemie's despairing letters to herself sufficiently explained why her + progress was so slow. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said her ladyship to Miss MacDowlas, afterward, “that you are + satisfied with Dorothea's manner of filling her position in your + household.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was so thoroughly satisfied in my life,” returned the old lady, + stiffly. “She is a very quickwitted, pleasantly natured girl, and I am + extremely fond of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” waving a majestic and unbending fan of carved ivory. “She has + possibly improved then. I observe that she is going off very much,—in + the matter of looks, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard a gentleman remark, a few minutes ago,” replied Miss MacDowlas, + “that the girl looked like a white rose, and I quite agreed with him; but + I am fond of her, as I said, and you are not.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship shuddered faintly, but she did not make any further comment, + perhaps feeling that her hostess was too powerful to encounter. + </p> + <p> + At midnight the visitors went their several ways, and after they had + dispersed and the rooms were quiet once again, Miss MacDowlas sent her + companion to bed, or, at least, bade her good-night. + </p> + <p> + “You had better go at once,” she said. “I will remain to give orders to + the servants. You look tired. The excitement has been too much for you.” + </p> + <p> + So Dolly thanked her and left the room; but Miss MacDowlas did not hear + her ascend the stairs, and accordingly, after listening a moment or so, + went to the room door and looked out into the hall. And right at the foot + of the staircase lay Dolly Crewe, the lustreless, trailing black dress + making her skin seem white as marble, her pretty face turned half downward + upon her arm. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the girl returned to consciousness to find herself + lying comfortably in bed, the chamber empty save for herself and Miss + MacDowlas, who was standing at her side watching her. + </p> + <p> + “Better?” she said. “That is right, my dear. The evening was too much for + you, as I was afraid it would be. You are not as strong as you should be.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Dolly answered, quietly. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence of a few minutes, during which she closed her eyes + again; but she heard Miss MacDowlas fidgeting a little, and at last she + heard her speak. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “I think I ought to tell you something. When you + fell, I suppose you must somehow or other have pressed the spring of your + locket, for it was open when I went to you, and—I saw the face + inside it.” + </p> + <p> + “Grif,” said Dolly, in a tired voice, “Grif.” + </p> + <p> + And then she remembered how she had written to him about what this very <i>dénouement</i> + would be when it came. How strange, how wearily strange, it was to think + that it should come about in such a way as this! + </p> + <p> + “My nephew,” said Miss MacDowlas. “Griffith Donne.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, briefly. “I was engaged to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Was!” echoed Miss MacDowlas. “Did he behave badly to you, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I behaved badly to him—and that is why I am ill.” + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas blew her nose. + </p> + <p> + “How long?” she asked, at length. “May I ask how long you were engaged to + each other, my dear? Don't answer me if you do not wish.” + </p> + <p> + “I was engaged to him,” faltered the girlish voice,—"we were all the + world to each other for seven years—for seven long years.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + </h2> + <p> + IN the morning of one of the hot days in June, Mollie, standing at the + window of Phil's studio, turned suddenly toward the inmates of the room + with an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Phil!” she said, “Toinette! There is a carriage drawing up before the + door.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Augusta?” said Toinette, making a dart at Tod. + </p> + <p> + “Confound Lady Augusta!” ejaculated Phil, devoutly. “That woman has a + genius for presenting herself at inopportune times.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is n't Lady Augusta,” Mollie objected. “It is n't the Bilberry + carriage at all. Do you think I don't know 'the ark'?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to by this time,” returned Phil. “I do, to my own deep grief.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the Brabazon Lodge carriage!” cried Mollie, all at once. “Miss + MacDowlas is getting out, and—yes, here is Dolly!” + </p> + <p> + “And Tod just washed and dressed!” said Mrs. Phil, picking up her + offspring with an air of self-congratulation. “Miracle of miracles! The + Fates begin to smile upon us. Phil, how is my back hair?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” returned Phil. “I suppose I shall have to present myself, + too.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary that they should all present themselves, they found. Miss + MacDowlas wished to form the acquaintance of the whole family, it + appeared, and apart from this her visit had rather an important object. + </p> + <p> + “It is a sort of farewell visit,” she explained, “though, of course, the + farewell is only to be a temporary one. We find London too hot for us, and + we are going to try Switzerland. The medical man thinks a change will be + beneficial to your sister.” + </p> + <p> + They all looked at Dolly then,—at Dolly in her delicate, crisp + summer bravery and her pretty summer hat; but it was neither hat nor dress + that drew their eyes upon her all at once in that new questioning way. But + Dolly only laughed,—a soft, nervous laugh, however,—and played + with her much-frilled parasol. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MacDowlas,” she said, “is good enough to fancy I am not so well as I + ought to be, Tod,” bending her face low over the pretty little fellow, who + had trotted to her knee. “What do you think of Aunt Dolly's appearing in + the character of invalid? It sounds like the best of jokes, does n't it, + Tod?” + </p> + <p> + They tried to smile responsively, all of them, but the effort was not a + success. Despite all her pretence of brightness and coquettish attire, + there was not one of them who had not been startled when their first + greeting was over. Under the triumph of a hat, her face showed almost + sharply cut, her skin far too transparently colorless, her eyes much too + large and bright. The elaborately coiled braids of hair seemed almost too + heavy for the slender throat to bear, and no profusion of trimming could + hide that the little figure was worn. The flush and glow and spirit had + died away from her. It was not the Dolly who had been wont to pride + herself upon ruling supreme in Vagabondia, who sat there before them + making them wonder; it was a new creature, who seemed quite a stranger to + them. + </p> + <p> + They were glad to see how fond of her Miss MacDowlas appeared to be. They + had naturally not had a very excellent opinion of Miss MacDowlas in the + past days; but the fact that Dolly had managed to so win upon her as to + bring out her best side, quite softened their hearts. She was not so grim, + after all. Her antipathy to Grif had evidently been her most unpleasant + peculiarity, and now, seeing her care for this new Dolly, who needed care + so much, they were rather touched. + </p> + <p> + When the farewells had been said, the carriage had driven away, and they + had returned to the studio, a silence seemed to fall upon them, one and + all. 'Toinette sat in her chair, holding Tod, without speaking; Mollie + stood near her with a wondering, downcast air; Phil went to the window, + and, neglecting his picture wholly for the time being, looked out into the + street, whistling softly. + </p> + <p> + At length he turned round to Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” he said, abruptly, “how long has this been going on?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean this change?” said Aimée, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “For three months,” she answered. “I did not like to tell you because I + knew <i>she</i> would not like it; but it dates from the time Grif went + away.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil burst into an impetuous gush of tears, hiding her handsome, + girlish face on Tod's neck. + </p> + <p> + “It is a shame!” she cried out. “It is a cruel, burning shame! Who would + ever have thought of Grif's treating her like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Phil; “and who would ever have thought that Dolly would have + broken down? Dolly! By George! I can't believe it. If I am able to judge, + it seems time that she should try Switzerland or somewhere else. Aimée, + has she heard nothing of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The young man flushed hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” he burst forth. “It looks as if the fellow was a + dishonorable scamp. And yet he is the last man I should ever have fancied + would prove a scamp.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has not proved himself a scamp yet,” said Aimée, in a troubled + tone. “And Dolly would not like to hear you say so. And if you knew the + whole truth you <i>wouldn't</i> say so. He has been tried too far, and he + has been impetuous and rash, but it was his love for Dolly that made him + so. And wherever he may be, Phil, I know he is as wretched and hopeless as + Dolly herself could be at the worst. It has all been misunderstanding and + mischance.” + </p> + <p> + “He has broken Dolly's heart, nevertheless,” cried Mrs. Phil. “And if she + dies—” + </p> + <p> + “Dies!” cried out Mollie, opening her great eyes and turning pale all at + once. “Dies! Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Aimée, trembling and losing color herself. “Oh, hush!—don't + say such things. It sounds so dreadful,—it is too dreadful to think + of!” + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that on another of these hot June days there appeared + at the <i>table à hôte</i> of a certain well-conducted and already + well-filled inn at Lake Geneva two new arrivals,—a tall, thin, + elderly lady of excessively English exterior, and a young person who + attracted some attention,—a girl who wore a long black dress, and + had a picturesque Elizabethan frill about her too slender throat, and who, + in spite of her manner and the clearness of her bright voice, was too + whitely transparent of complexion and too finely cut of face to look as + strong as a girl of one or two and twenty ought to be. + </p> + <p> + The people who took stock of them, after the manner of all unoccupied + hotel sojourners on the lookout for sensations, noticed this. One or two + of them even observed that, on entering the room after the slight exertion + of descending the staircase, the girl was slightly out of breath and + seemed glad to sit down, and that, her companion evidently making some + remark upon the fact, she half laughed, as if wishing to make light of it; + and they noticed, too, that her naturally small hands were so very slender + that her one simple little ring of amethyst and pearls slipped loosely up + and down her finger. + </p> + <p> + They were not ordinary tourists, these new arrivals, it was clear. Their + attire told that at once. They had removed their travelling dresses, and + looked as if they had quite made up their minds to enjoy their customary + mode of life as if they had been at home. They had no courier, the + wiseacres had ascertained, and they had brought a neat English + serving-woman, who seemed to know her business marvellously well and be by + no means unaccustomed to travelling. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt and niece!” commented one gentleman, surveying Dolly over his soup. + “A nice little creature,—the niece.” And he mentally resolved to + cultivate her acquaintance. But it was not such an easy matter. The new + arrivals were unlike ordinary tourists in other respects than in their + settled mode of life. They did not seem to care to form chance + acquaintance with their fellow guests. They lived quietly and, unless when + driving out together or taking short, unfatiguing strolls, remained much + in their own apartments. They appeared at the <i>table d'hôte</i> + occasionally; but though they were pleasant in manner they were not + communicative, and so, after a week or so, people tired of asking + questions about them and lapsed into merely exchanging greetings, and + looking on with some interest at any changes they observed in the pretty, + transparent, though always bright face, and the pliant, soft young figure. + </p> + <p> + Thus Miss MacDowlas and her companion “tried Switzerland.” + </p> + <p> + “It will do you good, my dear, and brace you up,” the elder lady had said; + and from the bottom of her heart she had hoped it would. + </p> + <p> + And did it? + </p> + <p> + Well, the last time Dolly had “tried Switzerland,” she had tried it in the + capacity of Lady Augusta's governess, and she had held in charge a host of + rampant young Bilberrys, who secretly loathed their daily duties, and were + not remarkable in the matter of filial piety, and were only reconciled to + existence by the presence of their maternal parent's greatest trial, that + highly objectionable Dorothea Crewe. So, taking Lady Augusta in + conjunction with her young charges, the girl had often felt her lot by no + means the easiest in the world; but youth and spirit, and those + oft-arriving letters, had helped her to bear a great deal, and so there + was still something sweet about the memory. Oh, those old letters—those + foolish, passionate, tender letters—written in the dusty, hot London + office, read with such happiness, and answered on such closely penned + sheets of foreign paper! How she had used to watch for them, and carry + them to her small bedroom and read them again and again, kneeling on the + floor by the open window, the fresh, soft summer breezes from the blue + lake far below stirring her hair and kissing her forehead! How doubly and + trebly fair she had been wont to fancy everything looked on that “letter + day” of hers,—that red-letter day,—that golden-letter day! + </p> + <p> + The very letters she had written then lay in her trunk now, tied together + in a bundle, just as Grif had brought them and laid them down upon the + table when he gave her up forever. Her “dead letter” lay with them,—that + last, last appeal, which had never reached his heart, and never would. She + had written her last letter to him, and he his last to her. + </p> + <p> + And now she had been brought to “try Switzerland” and Lake Geneva as a + Lethe. + </p> + <p> + But she had determined to be practical and courageous, and bear it as best + she might. It would not have been like her to give way at once without a + struggle. She did not believe in lovelorn damsels, who pined away and died + of broken hearts, and made all their friends uncomfortable by so doing. + She made a struggle, and refused to give up. She grew shadowy and fair; + but it was under protest, and she battled against the change she felt + creeping upon her so slowly but so surely. She showed a brave face to + people, and tried to be as bright and ready-witted as ever; and if she + failed it was not her own fault. She fought hard against her sleepless + nights and weary days; and when she lay awake hour after hour hearing the + clock strike, it was not because she made no effort to compose herself, it + was only because the delicate wheels of thought <i>would</i> work against + her helpless will, and it was worse than useless to close her eyes when + she could see so plainly her lost lover's desperate, anguished face, and + hear so distinctly his strained, strangely altered voice: “No, it is too + late for that now,—that is all over!” And he had once loved her + better than his life! + </p> + <p> + So it was that, try as she might, she could not make Switzerland a + success. When she went down to the table d'hôte, people saw that instead + of growing stronger she was growing more frail, and the exertion of coming + down the long flight of stairs tried her more than it had seemed to do + that first day. Sometimes she had a soft, lovely, dangerous color on her + cheeks, and her eyes looked almost translucent; and then again the color + was gone, her skin was white and transparent, and her eyes were shadowy + and languid. When the hot July days came in, the ring of pearls and + amethyst would stay on the small worn hand no longer, and so was taken off + and hung with the little bunch of coquettish “charms” upon her chain. But + she was not conquered yet, and the guests and servants often heard her + laughing, and making Miss MacDowlas laugh as they sat together in their + private parlor. + </p> + <p> + The two were sitting thus together one Saturday early in July,—Dolly + in a loose white wrapper, resting in a low basket chair by the open + window, and fanning herself languidly,—when a visitor was announced, + and the moment after the announcement a tall young lady rushed into the + room and clasped Dolly unceremoniously in her arms, either not observing + or totally ignoring Miss MacDowlas's presence. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly!” she cried, kneeling down by the basket chair and speaking so fast + that her words tumbled over each other, and her sentences were curiously + mingled. “Oh! if you please, dear, I know it was n't polite, and I never + meant to do it in such an unexpected, awfully rude way; and what mamma + would say, I am sure I cannot tell, unless go into dignified convulsions, + and shudder herself stiff; but how could I help it, when I came expecting + to see you as bright and lovely as ever, and caught a glimpse of you + through the door, as the servant spoke, sitting here so white and thin and + tired-looking! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how ever can it be!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Phemie!” said Dolly, laughing and crying both at once, through + weakness and sympathy,—for of course poor, easily moved Phemie had + burst into a flood of affectionate tears. “My dear child, how excited you + are, and how pleasant it is to see you! How did you manage to come?” + </p> + <p> + “The professor with the lumpy face—poor, pale darling—I mean + you, not him,” explained the eldest Miss Bilberry, clinging to her + ex-governess as if she was afraid of seeing her float through the open + window. “The professor with the lumpy face, Dolly; which shows he is not + so horrid as I always thought him, and I am very sorry for being so + inconsiderate, I am sure—you know he cannot help his lumps any more + than I can help my dreadful red hands and my dresses not fitting.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly stopped her here to introduce her to Miss MacDowlas; and that lady + having welcomed her good-naturedly, and received her incoherent apologies + for her impetuous lack of decorum, the explanation proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “How could the professor send you here?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “He did not exactly send me, but he helped me,” replied the luckless + Euphemia, becoming a trifle more coherent. “I saw you at the little + church, though you did not see me, because, of course, we sit in the most + disagreeable part, just where we can't see or be seen at all. And though I + only saw you at a distance, and through your veil, and half behind a + pillar, I knew you, and knew Miss MacDowlas. I think I knew Miss MacDowlas + most because she <i>wasn't</i> behind the pillar. And it nearly drove me + crazy to think you were so near, and I gave one of the servants some money + to find out where you were staying, and she brought me word that you were + staying here, and meant to stay. And then I asked the lady principal to + let me come and see you, and of course she refused; and I never should + have been able to come at all, only it chanced that was my music-lesson + day, and I went in to the professor with red eyes,—I had cried so,—and + when he asked me what I had been crying for, I remembered that he used to + be fond of you, and I told him. And he was sorry for me, and promised to + ask leave for me. He is a cousin of the lady principal, and a great + favorite with her. And the end of it was that they let me come. And I have + almost flown. I had to wait until to-day, you know, because it was + Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite touching to see how, when she stopped speaking, she clung to + Dolly's hands, and looked at her with wonder and grief in her face. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that has changed you so?” she said. “You are not like yourself + at all. Oh, my dear, how ill you are!” + </p> + <p> + A wistful shadow showed itself in the girl's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Am</i> I so much changed?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You do not look like our Dolly at all,” protested Phemie. “You are thin,—oh, + so thin! What <i>is</i> the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Thin!” said Dolly. “Am I? Then I must be growing ugly enough. Perhaps it + is to punish me for being so vain about my figure. Don't you remember what + a dread I always had of growing thin? Just to think that <i>I</i> should + grow thin, after all! Do my bones stick out like the Honorable Cecilia + Howland's, Phemie?” And she ended with a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + Phemie kissed her, in affectionate protest against such an idea. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no!” she said. “They could n't, you know. They are not the kind + of bones to do it. Just think of her dreadful elbows and her fearful + shoulder-blades! You couldn't look like her. I don't mean that sort of + thinness at all. But you seem so light and so little. And look here,” and + she held up the painfully small hand, the poor little hand without the + ring. “There are no dimples here now, Dolly,” she said, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, simply; and the next minute, as she drew her hand + away, there fluttered from her lips a sigh. + </p> + <p> + She managed to change the turn of conversation after this. Miss MacDowlas + had good-naturedly left them alone, and so she began to ask Phemie + questions,—questions about school and lessons and companions, about + the lady principal and the under-teachers and about the professor with the + lumpy face; and, despite appearances being against her, there was still + the old ring in her girl's jests. + </p> + <p> + “Has madame got a new bonnet yet,” she asked, “or does she still wear the + old one with those aggressive-looking spikes of wheat in it? The lean ears + ought to have eaten up the fat ones by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “But they have n't,” returned Phemie. “They are there yet, Dolly. Just the + same spikes in the same bonnet, only she has had new saffron-colored + ribbon put on it, just the shade of her skin.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shuddered,—Lady Augusta's own semi-tragic shudder, if Phemie + had only recognized it. + </p> + <p> + “Phemie,” she said, with a touch of pardonable anxiety, “ill as I look, I + am not that color, am I? To lose one's figure and grow thin is bad enough, + but to become like Madame Pillet—dear me!” shaking her head. “I + scarcely think I could reconcile myself to existence.” + </p> + <p> + Phemie laughed. “You are not changed in one respect, Dolly,” she said. + “When I hear you talk it makes me feel quite—quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” Dolly echoed. “You mean to say that so long as I preserve my + constitutional vanity, your anxiety won't overpower you. But—but,” + looking at her curiously, “did you think at first that I was not safe, as + you call it?” + </p> + <p> + “You looked so ill,” faltered Phemie. “And—I was so startled.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you?” asked Dolly. “Did I shock you?” + </p> + <p> + “A little—only just a little, dear,” deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + Then strangely enough fell upon them a silence. Dolly turned toward the + window, and her eyes seemed to fix themselves upon some far-away point, as + if she was pondering over a new train of thought. And when at last she + spoke, her voice was touched with the tremulous unsteadiness of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said, slowly,—"do you think that <i>any one</i> + who had loved me would be shocked to see me now? Am I so much altered as + that? One scarcely sees these things one's self,—they come to pass + so gradually.” + </p> + <p> + All poor Phemie's smiles died away. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us talk about it,” she pleaded. “I cannot bear to hear you + speak so. Don't, dear—if you please, don't!” + </p> + <p> + Her pain was so evident that it roused Dolly at once. + </p> + <p> + “I won't, if it troubles you,” she said, almost in her natural manner. “It + does not matter,—why should it? There is no one here to be shocked. + I was only wondering.” + </p> + <p> + But the shadow did not quite leave her face, and even when, an hour later, + Euphemia bade her good-by and left her, promising to return again as soon + as possible, it was there still. + </p> + <p> + She was very, very quiet for a few minutes after she found herself alone. + She clasped her hands behind her head, and lay back in the light chair, + looking out of the window. She was thinking so deeply that she did not + even stir for a while; but in the end she got up, as though moved by some + impulse, and crossed the room. + </p> + <p> + Against the wall hung a long, narrow mirror, and she went to this mirror + and stood before it, looking at herself from head to foot,—at her + piteously sharpened face, with its large, wondering eyes, eyes that + wondered at themselves,—at the small, light figure so painfully + etherealized, and about which the white wrapper hung so loosely. She even + held up, at last, the slender hand and arm; but when she saw these + uplifted, appealing, as it were, for this sad, new face which did not seem + her own, she broke into a little cry of pain and grief. + </p> + <p> + “If you could see me now,” she said, “if you should come here by chance + and see me now, my dear, I think you would not wait to ask whether I had + been true or false. I never laid this white cheek on your shoulder, did I? + Oh, what a changed face it is! I know I was never very pretty, though you + thought so and were proud of me in your tender way, but I was not like + this in those dear old days. Grif, Grif, would you know me,—would + you <i>know</i> me?” And, turning to her chair again, she dropped upon her + knees before it, and knelt there sobbing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + </h2> + <p> + THE postman paid frequent visits to Bloomsbury Place during these summer + weeks. At first Dolly wrote often herself, but later it seemed to fall to + Miss MacDowlas to answer Aimée's weekly letters and Mollie's fortnightly + ones. And that lady was a faithful correspondent, and did her duty as + readily as was possible, giving all the news, and recording all Dolly's + messages, and issuing regular bulletins on the subject of her health. + “Your sister,” she sometimes wrote, “is not so well, and I have persuaded + her to allow me to be her amanuensis.” Or, “Your sister is tired after a + rather long drive, and I have persuaded her to rest while I write at her + dictation.” Or sometimes, “Dolly is rather stronger, and is in excellent + spirits, but I do not wish her to exert herself at present.” But at length + a new element crept into these letters. The cheerful tone gave way to a + more dubious one; Dolly's whimsical messages were fewer and farther + between, and sometimes Miss MacDowlas seemed to be on the verge of hinting + that her condition was a weaker and more precarious one than even she + herself had at first feared. + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both + anxious and puzzled. In a very short time after his return he had awakened + to a recognition of some mysterious shadow upon the household. Vagabondia + had lost its spirits. Mrs. Phil and her husband were almost thoughtful; + Tod disported himself unregarded and unadmired, comparatively speaking; + Mollie seemed half frightened by the aspect affairs were wearing; and + Aimee's wise, round face had an older look. And then these letters! Dolly + “trying Switzerland” for her health, Dolly mysteriously ill and far away + from home,—too weak sometimes to write. Dolly, who had never seemed + to have a weakness; who had entered the lists against even Lady Augusta, + and had come off victorious; who had been mock-worldly, and coquettish, + and daring; who had made open onslaught upon eligible Philistines; who had + angled prettily and with sinful success for ineligible Bohemians! What did + it mean? And where was Donne? Certainly he was never to be seen at + Bloomsbury Place or in its vicinity in these days. + </p> + <p> + But, deeply interested as he was, Gowan was not the man to ask questions; + so he could only wait until chance brought the truth to light. + </p> + <p> + He came to the house upon one occasion and found Aimée crying quietly over + one of Miss MacDowlas's letters in the parlor, and in his sympathy he felt + compelled to speak openly to her. + </p> + <p> + Then Aimée, heavy of heart and full of despairing grief, handed him the + letter to read. + </p> + <p> + “I have known it would be so—from the first,” she sobbed. “We are + going to lose her. Perhaps she will not live to come home again.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Dolly?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” hysterically. “Miss MacDowlas says—” But she could get no + further. + </p> + <p> + This was what Miss MacDowlas said:— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is + very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her + increasing weakness lightly. Indeed, I am sure that she herself does not + comprehend her danger. I am inclined to believe that it has not yet + occurred to her that she is in danger at all. She protests that she cannot + be ill so long as she does not suffer; but I, who have watched her day by + day, can see only too plainly where the danger lies. And so I think it + best to warn you to be prepared to come to us at once if at any time I + should send for you hurriedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Prepared to go to them!” commented Aimée. “What does that mean? What can + it mean but that our own Dolly is dying, and may slip out of the world + away from us at any moment? Oh, Grif! Grif! what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + Gowan closed the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Aimée,” he said, “where <i>is</i> Donne?” + </p> + <p> + Aimée fairly wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she quite wailed. “If I only did—if I only knew + where I could find him!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know!” exclaimed Gowan. “And Dolly dying in Switzerland!” + </p> + <p> + “That is it,” she returned. “That is what it all means. If any of us knew—or + if Dolly knew, she would not be dying in Switzerland. It is because she + does not know, that she is dying. She has never seen him since the night + you brought Mollie home. And—and she cannot live without him.” + </p> + <p> + The whole story was told in very few words after this; and Gowan, + listening, began to understand what the cloud upon the house had meant. He + suffered some sharp enough pangs through the discovery, too. The last + frail cords that had bound him to hope snapped as Aimée poured out her + sorrows. He had never been very sanguine of success, but even after hoping + against hope, his tender fancy for Dolly Crewe had died a very lingering + death; indeed, it was not quite dead yet, but he was beginning to + comprehend this old love story more fully, and he had found himself forced + to do his rival greater justice. He could not see his virtues as the rest + saw them, of course, but he was generous enough to pity him, and see that + his lot had been a terribly hard one. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing to be done,” he said, when Aimée had finished + speaking. “We must find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Find him! We cannot find him.” + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be proved,” he answered. “Have you been to his lodgings?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” mournfully. “And even to the office! He left his lodgings that very + night, paid his bills, and drove away in a cab with his trunk. Poor Grif! + It was n't a very big trunk. He went to the office the next morning, and + told Mr. Flynn he was going to leave London, and one of the clerks told + Phil there was a 'row' between them. Mr. Flynn was angry because he had + not given due notice of his intention. That is all we know.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have not the slightest clew beyond this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest. He spent all his spare time with Dolly, you know; so + there is not even any place of resort, or club, or anything, where we + might go to make inquiries about him.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan's countenance fell. He felt the girl's distress keenly, apart from + his own pain. + </p> + <p> + “The whole affair seems very much against us,” he said; “but he may—I + say he <i>may</i> be in London still. I am inclined to believe he is + myself. When the first passion of excitement was over, he would find + himself weaker than he fancied he was. It would not be so easy to cut + himself off from the old life altogether. He would long so inexpressibly + to see Dolly again that he could not tear himself away. I think we may be + assured that even if he is not in London, at least he has not left + England.” + </p> + <p> + “That was what I have been afraid of,” said Aimée, “that he might have + left England altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think he has,” Gowan returned. + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a moment. Aimée sat twisting Miss MacDowlas's + letter in her fingers, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is all the harder to bear,” she said next, “because Dolly has always + seemed so much of a <i>reality</i> to us. If she had been a pale, ethereal + sort of girl, it might not seem such a shock; but she never was. She even + used to say she could not bear those frail, ethereal people in books, who + were always dying and saying touching things just at the proper time, and + who knew exactly when to call up their agonized friends to their bedside + to see how pathetically and decorously they made their exit. Oh, my poor + darling! To think that she should be fading away and dying just in the + same way! I cannot make it seem real. I cannot think of her without her + color, and her jokes, and her bits of acting, and her little vanities. She + will not be our Dolly at all if they have left her. There is a dress of + hers up-stairs now,—a dress she couldn't bear. And I remember so + well how she lost her temper when she was making it, because it would n't + fit. And when I went into the parlor she was crying over it, and Grif was + trying so hard to console her that at last she laughed. I can see her now, + with the tears in her eyes, looking half-vexed and half-comforted. And + Tod, too,—how fond she was of Tod, and how proud of him! Ah, Tod,” + in a fresh burst, “when you grow up, the daisies may have been growing for + many a year over poor little Aunt Dolly, and you will have forgotten her + quite.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not look at the matter in that desponding way,” said Gowan, + quite unsteadily. “We must hope for the best, and do what we can. You may + rely upon me to exert myself to the utmost. If we succeed in finding Donne + I am sure that he will do the rest. Perhaps, next summer Vagabondia will + be as bright as ever,—nay, even brighter than it has been before.” + </p> + <p> + All his sympathies were enlisted, and, hopeless as the task seemed, he had + determined to make strenuous efforts to trace this lost lover. Men had + concealed themselves from their friends, in the world of London, often + before, and this, he felt sure, Griffith Donne was doing; and since this + poor little impassioned, much-tried Dolly was dying in spite of herself + for Griffith Donne's sake, and seemed only to be saved by his presence, he + must even set himself the task of bringing him to light and clearing up + this miserable misunderstanding. Having been Dolly Crewe's lover, he was + still generous enough to wish to prove himself her friend; yes, and even + her luckier lover's friend, though he winced a trifle at the thought. + Accordingly, he left the house that night with his mind full of + half-formed plans, both feasible and otherwise. + </p> + <p> + During the remainder of that week he did not call at Bloomsbury Place + again, but at the beginning of the next he made his appearance, bringing + with him a piece of news which excited Aimee terribly. + </p> + <p> + “I know I shall startle you,” he said, the moment they were alone + together, “but you can scarcely be more startled than I was myself. I have + been on the lookout constantly, but I did not expect to be rewarded by + success so soon. Indeed, as it is, it has been entirely a matter of + chance. It is as I felt sure it would be. Donne is in London still. I know + that much, though that is all I have learned as yet. Late last night I + caught a glimpse—only a glimpse—of him hurrying through a + by-street. I almost fancied he had seen me and was determined to get out + of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “The pretty English girl,” said the guests at the inn, “comes down no + longer to the <i>table d'hôte!</i>” “The pretty English girl,” remarked + the wiseacres, “does not even drive out on these days, and the doctor + calls every morning to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “And sometimes,” added one of the wisest, “again in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Consumption,” observed another. + </p> + <p> + “Plainly consumption,” nodding significantly. “These English frauleins are + so often consumptive,” commented a third. “It is astonishing to remark how + many come to 'try Switzerland,' as they say.” + </p> + <p> + “And die?” + </p> + <p> + “And die,—as this one will.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing!” with a sigh and a pitying shrug of the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + And in the meantime up-stairs the basket chair had been taken away from + the window, and a large-cushioned, chintz-covered couch had been pushed + into its place, and Dolly lay upon it. But luxurious as her couch was, and + balmy as the air was, coming through the widely opened window, she did not + find much rest. The fact was, she was past rest by this time, she was too + weak to rest. The hot days tried her, and her sleepless nights undermined + even her last feeble relic of strength. Sometimes during the day she felt + that she could not lie propped up on the pillows a moment longer; but when + she tried to stand or sit up she was glad to drop back again into the old + place. She lost her breath fearfully soon,—the least exertion left + her panting. + </p> + <p> + “If I had a cough,” she said once to Miss MacDowlas, “I could understand + that I was ill—or if I suffered any actual pain, but I don't, and + even the doctor admits that my lungs are safe enough. What is it that he + says about me? Let me see. Ah, this is it: that I am 'below par—fearfully + below par,' as if I was gold, or notes, or bonds, or something. My ideas + on the subject of the money market are indefinite, you see. Ah, well; I + wonder when I shall be 'above par'!” + </p> + <p> + She never spoke of her ailments in any other strain. Even as she lay on + her couch, too prostrate to either read or work, she made audacious + satirical speeches, and told Miss MacDowlas stories of Vagabondia, just as + she used to tell them to Grif himself, only that in these days she could + not get up to flourish illustratively; and often after lying for an hour + or so in a dead, heavy, exhausting day-sleep, she opened her eyes at last, + to jest about her faithful discharge of her duties as companion. Only she + herself knew of the fierce battles she so often fought in secret, when her + sore, aching heart cried out so loud for Grif and would not—<i>would</i> + not be comforted. + </p> + <p> + She saw Phemie frequently. The much-abused professor had proved himself a + faithful friend to them. He had never been quite able to forget the little + English governess, who had so won upon him in the past, even though this + same young lady, in her anxiety to set Lady Augusta at defiance, had + treated him somewhat cavalierly. Indeed, hearing that she was ill, he was + so touched as to be quite overwhelmed with grief. He gained Euphemia + frequent leaves of absence, and sent messages of condolence and bouquets,—huge + bunches of flowers which made Dolly laugh even while they pleased her. + There was always a bouquet, stiff in form and gigantic in proportions, + when Phemie came. + </p> + <p> + At first Phemie caught the contagion of Dolly's own spirit and + hopefulness, and was sustained by it in spite of appearances; but its + influence died out at the end of a few weeks, and even she was not to be + deceived. An awful fear began to force itself upon her,—a fear + doubly awful to poor, susceptible Phemie. Dolly was getting no better; she + was even getting worse every day; she could not sit up; she was thinner + and larger-eyed than ever. Was something going to happen? And at the mere + thought of that possible something she would lose her breath and sit + looking at Dolly, silent, wondering, and awe-stricken. She began to ponder + over this something, as she tried to learn her lessons; she thought of it + as she went to bed and she dreamed of it in the night. Sometimes when she + came in unexpectedly and found Dolly in one of those prostrate sleeps, she + was so frightened that she could have cried out aloud. + </p> + <p> + She came in so one evening at twilight,—the professor had brought + her himself and had promised to escort her home,—and she found Dolly + in one of these sleeps. So, treading lightly, she put the bouquet in + water, and then drew a low chair to the girl's side and sat down to watch + and wait until she should awaken. Miss MacDowlas was in her own room + writing to Aimée; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its + quietness, perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and + fear. + </p> + <p> + Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow of + her former self. The once soft, round outlines of her face had grown clear + and sharp-cut, the delicate chin had lost its dimple, the transparent skin + upon the temples showed a tracery of blue veins, the closed eyelids had a + strange whiteness and lay upon her eyes heavily. She did not move,—she + seemed scarcely to breathe. Phemie caught her own breath and held it, lest + it should break from her in a sob of grief and terror. + </p> + <p> + This something awful <i>was</i> going to happen! She could not recover + herself even when Dolly wakened and began to talk to her. She could not + think of anything but her own anguish and pity for her friend. She could + not talk and was so silent, indeed, that Dolly became silent too; and so, + as the dusk fell upon them, they sat together in a novel quiet, listening + to a band of strolling musicians, who were playing somewhere in the + distance, and the sound of whose instruments floated to them, softened and + made plaintive by the evening air. + </p> + <p> + At last Dolly broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are very quiet, Phemie,” she said. “Are you going to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” faltered Phemie, drawing closer to her. “I am thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking. What about?” + </p> + <p> + “About you. Dolly, do you—are you very ill—worse than you + were?” + </p> + <p> + “Very ill!” repeated Dolly, slowly, as if in wonder. “Worse than I was! + Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + Then Phemie lost self-control altogether. She left her seat and fell down + by the couch, bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + “You are so altered,” she said; “and you alter so much every week. I cried + over your poor, thin little hands when first I came to see you, but now + your wrist looks as if it would snap in two. Oh, Dolly, darling, if—if + you should die!” + </p> + <p> + Was it quite a new thought, or was it because it had never come home to + her in such a form before, this thought of Death? She started as if she + had been stung. + </p> + <p> + “If I should die!” she echoed. “<i>Die!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Phemie, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas, opening the door, “the professor + is waiting down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + And so, having let her sorrow get the better of her, Phemie had no time to + stay to see if her indiscretion had done harm. If she did not go now, she + might not be allowed fresh grace; and so she was fain to tear herself + away. + </p> + <p> + “I ought n't to have said it!” she bewailed, as she kissed Dolly again and + again. “Please forget it; oh, do, please, forget it! I did not mean it, + indeed! And now I shall be so frightened and unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + “Phemie,” said Dolly, quietly, “you have not frightened <i>me</i>; so you + haven't the least need to trouble yourself, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + But she was not exactly sorry to be left alone, and when she was alone her + thoughts wandered back to that first evening Phemie had called,—the + evening she had gone to the glass to look at her changed face. She had sat + in the basket-chair then,—she lay back upon her cushions now, and a + crowd of new thoughts came trooping through her mind. The soft air was + scented and balmy; the twilight sky was a dome of purple, jewel-hung; + people's voices came murmuring from the gardens below; the far-off music + floated to her through the window. + </p> + <p> + “If I should <i>die!</i>” she said, in a wondering whisper,—"I, + Dolly Crewe! How strange it sounds! Have I never thought that I could die + before, or is it strange because now it is so real and near? When I used + to talk about death to Grif, it always seemed so far away from both of us; + it seemed to me as if I was not good enough or unreal enough to be near to + Death,—great, solemn Death itself. Why, I could look at myself, and + wonder at the thought of how much I shall see and know if I should die. + Grif, how much I should have to tell you, dear,—only that people are + always afraid of spirits, and perhaps you would be afraid, too,—even + of me! What would they say at home? Dear, old, broken-hearted fellow, what + would <i>you</i> say, if I should die?” + </p> + <p> + She could not help thinking about those at home; about Aimée and Mollie + and Phil and Toinette, sitting together in the dear old littered room at + Bloomsbury Place,—the dear old untidy room, where she had sat with + Grif so often! How would they all bear it when the letter came to tell + them she was gone, and would never be with them and share their pleasures + and troubles again! And then, strangely enough, she began to picture + herself as she would look; perhaps, laid out in this very room, a dimly + outlined figure, under a white sheet,—not her old self, but a + solemn, wondrous marble form, before whose motionless, mysterious presence + they would feel awed. + </p> + <p> + “And they would turn down the white covering and look at me,” she found + herself saying. “And they would wonder at me, and feel that I was far + away. Oh, how they would wonder at me! And, at the very last, before they + hid my face forever under the coffin-lid, they would all kiss me in that + tender, solemn way,—all but Grif, who loved me best; and Grif would + not be there!” + </p> + <p> + And the piteous rain of heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks, and fell + upon her pillow, was not for herself,—not for her own pain and + weariness and anguish,—not' for the white, worn face, that would be + shut beneath the coffin-lid, but for Grif,—for Grif,—for Grif, + who, coming back some day to learn the truth, might hear that she had + died! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + </h2> + <p> + IT had come at last,—the letter from Geneva, for which they all had + waited with such anxious hearts and so much of dread. The postman, + bringing it by the morning's delivery, and handing it through the opened + door to Aimée, had wondered a little at her excited manner,—she was + always excited when these letters came; and the moment she had entered the + parlor, holding the hurriedly read note,—it was scarcely more than a + note,—there was not one of them who did not understand all before + she spoke. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil burst into tears; Phil himself laid down his brush and changed + color; Mollie silently clung to Tod as a refuge, and looked up with + trembling lips. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You may as well tell us the worst,” she said; “but it is easy enough to + guess what it is, without being told.” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost the <i>very</i> worst,” answered Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MacDowlas wants me to go to them at once. <i>She</i> is so ill that + if a change does not take place, she will not live many weeks, and she has + asked for me.” + </p> + <p> + They all knew only too well that “she” meant Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Phil, “you must go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I can go to-day,” she answered. “I knew it would come to this, and I am + ready to leave London at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + There was no delay. Her small box was even then ready packed and corded + for the journey. She had taken Miss MacDowlas's warning in time. It would + not have been like this heavy-hearted wise one to disregard it. She would + have been ready to go to Dolly at ten minutes' notice, if she had been in + India. She was not afraid, either, of making the journey alone. It was not + a very terrible journey, she said. Secretly, she had a fancy that perhaps + Dolly would like to see her by herself first, to have a few quiet days + alone with her, in which she could become used to the idea of the farewell + the rest would come to say. And in her mind the poor little oracle had + another fancy, too, and this fancy she confided to Mollie before bidding + her good-by. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “I am going to leave a charge in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything about Dolly?” asked Mollie, making fruitless efforts to + check her affectionate tears. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would leave me something to do for Dolly, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “It is something connected with Dolly;” returned Aimée. “I want you to + keep constantly on the watch for Griffith.” + </p> + <p> + “For Griffith!” Mollie exclaimed. “How can I, when I don't know whether he + is in England or not?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in England,” Aimée replied. “He is in London, for Mr. Gowan has + seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “In London—and Dolly in Switzerland, perhaps dying!” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know that, or he would have been with her before now,” said + Aimée. “Once let him know that she is ill, and he will be with her. I know + him well enough to be sure of that. And it is my impression that if he + went to her at the eleventh hour, when she might seem to us to be at the + very last, he would bring her back to life. It is Grif she is dying for, + and only Grif can save her.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you want me to do?” anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “To watch for him constantly, as I said. Don't <i>you</i> think, Mollie, + that he might come back, if it were only into the street to look at the + house, in a restless sort of remembrance of the time when they used to be + so happy?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be unlike him,” answered Mollie, slowly. “He was very fond + of Dolly. Oh, he was very fond of her!” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her! He loved her better than his life, and does still, wherever + he may be. Something tells me he will come, and that is why I want you to + watch. Watch at the window as constantly as you can, but more particularly + at dusk; and if you should see him, Mollie, don't wait a second. Run out + to him, and <i>make</i> him listen to you. Ah, poor fellow, he will listen + eagerly and penitently enough, if you only say to him that Dolly is + dying.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Mollie, “I will remember.” And thus the wise one took + her departure. + </p> + <p> + It was twilight in Bloomsbury Place, and Mollie crouched before the parlor + window, resting her chin upon her hands, and looking out, pretty much as + Aimée had looked out on that winter evening months ago, when Mr. Gerald + Chandos had first presented himself to her mind as an individual to be + dreaded. + </p> + <p> + Three days had passed since the wise one left London,—three + miserable, dragging days they had seemed to Mollie, despite their summer + warmth and sunshine. Real anxiety and sorrow were new experiences in + Vagabondia; little trials they had felt, and often enough small + unpleasantnesses, privations, and disappointments; but death and grief + were new. And they were just beginning to realize broadly the blow which + had fallen upon them; hard as it was to believe at first, they were + beginning slowly to comprehend the sad meaning of the lesson they were + learning now for the first time. What each had felt a fear of in secret + was coming to pass at last, and there was no help against it. + </p> + <p> + Phil went about his work looking as none of them had ever seen him look + before. Mrs. Phil's tears fell thick and fast. Not understanding the + mystery, she could blame nobody but Grif, and Grif she could not forgive. + To Mollie the house seemed like a grave. She could think of nothing but + Dolly,—Dolly, white and worn and altered, lying upon her couch, her + eyes closed, her breath fluttering faintly. She wondered if she was afraid + to die. She herself had a secret girlish terror of death and its strange + solemness, and she so pitied Dolly that sometimes she could not contain + her grief, and was obliged to hide herself until her tears spent + themselves. + </p> + <p> + She had been crying during all this twilight hour she had knelt at the + window. She was so lonely that it seemed impossible to do anything else. + It would have been bad enough to bear the suspense even if Aimée had been + with her, but without Aimée it was dreadful. The tears slipped down her + cheeks and rolled away, and she did not even attempt to dry them, her + affectionate grief had mastered her completely. But she was roused at + length. Some one crossed the street from the pavement opposite the house; + and when this some one entered the gate and ascended the steps, she rose + slowly, half-reluctant, half-comforted, and with a faint thrill at her + heart. It was Ralph Gowan, and she was not wise enough or self-controlled + enough yet to see Ralph Gowan without feeling her pulses quicken. + </p> + <p> + When she opened the door he did not greet her as usual, but spoke to her + at once in a low, hurried tone. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie, where is Aimée?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Her tears began to flow again; she could not help giving way. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come in,” she said, half turning away from him and + speaking brokenly. “Aimée is not here. She left London three days ago. + Dolly—” + </p> + <p> + “Dolly is worse!” he said, because she could not finish. + </p> + <p> + She nodded, with a heart too full for words. + </p> + <p> + He stepped inside, and, closing the door, laid his hand upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mollie,” he said, “I must come to you.” + </p> + <p> + He did not wait a moment, but led her gently enough into the parlor, and, + blinded as she was by her tears, she saw that instant that he had not come + without a reason. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” he said. “I want you to be brave and calm now,—for + Dolly's sake. I want your help,—for Dolly's sake, remember.” + </p> + <p> + She recollected Aimée's words—"Mr. Gowan has seen him"—and a + sudden light flashed upon her. The tears seemed to dry of their own accord + all at once, as she looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He knew, without hearing another word, that he might trust her. + </p> + <p> + “Can you guess whom I have just this moment seen?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” sprang from her lips, without a second's hesitation. “You have seen + Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Grif,” he answered. “He is at the corner of the street now. + If I had attempted to speak to him he would have managed to avoid me; and + because I knew that, I came here, hoping to find Aimée; but since Aimée is + not here—” + </p> + <p> + “I can go,” she interrupted him, all a-tremble with eagerness. “He will + listen to me; he was fond of me, too, and I was fond of him. Oh! let me go + now!” + </p> + <p> + That bright little scarlet shawl of Dolly's lay upon the sofa, and she + snatched it up with shaking hands and threw it over her head and + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “If I can speak to him once, he will listen,” she said; “and if he + listens, Dolly will be saved. She won't die if Grif comes back. She can't + die if Grif comes back. Oh, Dolly, my darling, you saved me, and I am + going to try to save you.” + </p> + <p> + She was out in the street in two minutes, standing on the pavement, + looking up and down, and then she ran across to the other side. She kept + close to the houses, so that she might be in their shadow, and a little + sob broke from her as she hurried along,—a sob of joy and fear and + excitement. At the end of the row of houses somebody was standing under + the street lamp,—a man. Was it Grif,—or could Grif have gone + even in this short time? Fate could never have been so cruel to him, to + her, to them all, as to let him come so near and then go away without + hearing that Dolly was lying at death's portals, and no one could save her + but himself and the tender power of the sweet, old, much-tried love. Oh, + no, no! It was Grif indeed; for as she neared the place where he stood, + she saw his face in the lamp-light,—a grief-worn, pallid face, + changed and haggard and desperate,—a sight that made her cry out + aloud. + </p> + <p> + He had not seen her or even heard her. He stood there looking toward the + house she had left, and seeing, as it seemed, nothing else. Only the + darkness had hidden her from him. His eyes were fixed upon the dim light + that burned in Dolly's window. She had not meant to speak until she stood + close to him; but when she was within a few paces of him her excitement + mastered her. + </p> + <p> + “Grif,” she cried out; “Grif, is it you?” + </p> + <p> + And when he turned, with a great start, to look at her, she was upon him,—her + hands outstretched, the light upon her face, the tears streaming down her + cheeks,—sobbing aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he answered, “is it <i>you?</i>” And she saw that he almost + staggered. + </p> + <p> + She could not speak at first. She clung to his arm so tightly that he + could scarcely have broken away from her if he had tried. But he did not + try; it seemed as though her touch made him weak,—weaker than he had + ever been before in his life. Beauty as she was, they had always thought + her in some way like Dolly, and, just now, with Dolly's gay little scarlet + shawl slipping away from her face, with the great grief in her imploring + eyes, with that innocent appealing trick of the clinging hands, she might + almost have been Dolly's self. + </p> + <p> + Try as he might, he could not regain his self-control. He was sheerly + powerless before her. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “what has brought you here? Why have you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” she answered, “for Dolly's sake!” + </p> + <p> + The vague fear he had felt at first caught hold upon him with all the + fulness of its strength. + </p> + <p> + “For Dolly's sake!” he echoed. “Nay, Dolly has done with me, and I with + her.” And though he tried to speak bitterly, he failed. + </p> + <p> + She was too fond of Dolly, and too full of grief to spare him after that. + Unstrung as she was, her reproach burst forth from her without a softened + touch. “Dolly has done with earth. Dolly's life is over,” she sobbed. “Do + you know that she is dying? Yes, dying,—our own bright Dolly,—and + you—<i>you</i> have killed her!” + </p> + <p> + She had not thought how cruel it would sound, and the next instant she was + full of terror at the effect of her own words. He broke loose from her,—<i>fell</i> + loose from her, one might better describe it, for it was his own weight + rather than any effort which dragged him from her grasp. He staggered and + caught hold of the iron railings to save himself, and there hung, staring + at her with a face like a dead man. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he said,—not another word. + </p> + <p> + “You must not give way like that,” she cried out, in a new fright. “Oh, + how could I speak so! Aimée would have told you better. I did not mean to + be so hard. You can save her if you will. She will not die, Grif, if you + go to her. She only wants <i>you</i>. Grif,—Grif,—you look as + if you could not understand what I am saying.” And she wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, it scarcely seemed as if he did understand, though at last he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he said. “Not here? You say I must 'go' to her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she is not here. She is at Lake Geneva. Miss MacDowlas took her there + because she grew so weak, and she has grown weaker ever since, and three + days ago they sent for Aimée to come to her, because—because they + think she is going to die.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say that <i>I</i> have done this?” + </p> + <p> + “I ought n't to have put it that way, it sounds so cruel, but—but + she has never been like herself since the night you went away, and we have + all known that it was her unhappiness that made her ill. She could not get + over it, and though she tried to hide it, she was worn out. She loved you + so.” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “If she is dying for me,” he said, hoarsely, “she must have loved me, and + if she has loved me through all this,—God help us both!” + </p> + <p> + “How could you go away and leave her all alone after all those years?” + demanded Mollie. “We cannot understand it. No one knows but Aimée, and + Dolly has told her that you were not to blame. Why did you go?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> do not know?” he said. “You should know, Mollie, of all + others. <i>You</i> were with her when she played that miserable coquette's + trick,—that pitiful trick, so unlike herself,—you were with + her that night when she let Gowan keep her away from me, when I waited for + her coming hour after hour. I saw you with them when he was bidding her + goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + They had hidden their secret well all these months, but it was to be + hidden no longer now. It flashed upon her like an electric shock. She + remembered a hundred things,—a hundred little mysteries she had met + and been puzzled by, in Aimee's manner; she remembered all she had heard, + and all she had wondered at, and her heart seemed turned to stone. The + flush of weeping died out of her face, her hands fell and hung down at her + side, her tears were gone; nothing seemed left to her but blank horror. + </p> + <p> + “Was it because she did not come that night, that you left her to die?” + she asked, in a labored voice. “Was it because you saw her with Ralph + Gowan—was it because you found out that she had been with him, that + you went away and let her break her heart? Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + He answered her, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, turning to face him, still cold, and almost rigid, “it + is <i>I</i> who have killed her, and not you.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She did not wait to choose her words, or try to soften the story of her + own humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “If she dies,” she said, “she has died for me.” + </p> + <p> + And without further preface she told him all. How she had let Gerald + Chandos flatter and gain power over her, until the climax of her folly had + been the wild, wilful escapade of that miserable long-past day. How Ralph + Gowan had discovered her romantic secret, and revealed it to Dolly. How + they had followed and rescued her; even how Dolly had awakened her from + her dangerous dream with that light touch, and had drawn her away from the + brink of an abyss, with her loving, girlish hands; and she ended with an + outburst of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't she tell you?” she said. “For my sake she did not want the + rest to know; but why did not she tell you? I cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + “She tried to tell me,” he said, in an agony of self-reproach, as he began + to see what he had done,—"she tried to tell me, and I would not hear + her.” + </p> + <p> + All his bygone sufferings—and, Heaven knows, he had suffered + bitterly and heavily enough—sank into insignificance before the + misery of this hour. To know how true and pure of heart she had been; to + know how faithful, unselfish, sweet; to remember how she had met him with + a tender little cry of joy, with outstretched, innocent hands, that he had + thrust aside; to remember the old golden days in which she had so clung to + him, and brightened his life; to think how he had left her lying upon the + sofa that night, her white face drooping piteously against the cushions; + to have all come back to him and know that he only was to blame; to know + it all too late. Nay, a whole life of future bliss could never quite + efface the memory of such a passion of remorse and pain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he prayed, “have mercy upon me!” And then he turned upon + Mollie. “Tell me where to go to; tell me, and let me go. I must go to her + now without a moment's waiting. My poor, faithful little girl,—my + pretty Dolly! Dying,—dying! No, I don't believe it,—I won't. + She cannot die yet. Fate has been cruel enough to us, but it cannot be so + cruel as that. Love will <i>make</i> her live.” + </p> + <p> + He dashed down Mollie's directions in desperate, feverish haste upon a + leaf of his memorandum-book, and then he bade her good-by. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear!” he said. “Perhaps you have saved us both. I am + going to her now. Pray for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought rather to pray for myself,” she said; “but for me you would never + have been separated. I have done it all.” + </p> + <p> + And a few minutes after he had gone, Ralph Gowan, who had awaited her + return before the window, turned to see her enter the room like a spirit + and fling herself down before him, looking white and shaken and pale. + </p> + <p> + “I have found it all out now,” she cried. “I have found it all out. I have + done all this, Mr. Gowan; it is through me her heart is broken, and if she + dies, I shall have caused her death, as surely as if I had killed her with + my own hand. Oh, save me from thinking she will die,—help me to + think she will live,—help me!” + </p> + <p> + There was no one else to help her, and the blind terror of the thought was + so great that she must have help, or die. To have so injured Dolly, whom + she so loved,—to have, by her own deed, brought that dread shadow of + Death upon Dolly, who had saved her! Her heart seemed crushed. If Aimée + had been there; but Aimée was not, so she stretched out her hands to the + man she had so innocently loved. And as she so knelt before him,—so + fair, in the childlike <i>abandon</i> of her grief, so guileless and + trusting in her sudden, sweet appeal, so helpless against the world, even + against herself,—his man's heart was touched and stirred as it had + never been before,—as even Dolly herself had not stirred it. + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” he said, taking her hands and drawing her nearer to + himself. “My poor, pretty Mollie, come to me.” + </p> + <p> + And why not, my reader? If one rose is not for us, the sun shines on many + another as sweet and quite as fair; and what is more, it is more than + probable that if we had seen the last rose first, we should have loved the + first rose last. It is only when, like Dolly and Grif, we have watched our + rose from its first peep of the leaf, and have grown with its growth, that + there can be no other rose but one. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Le roi est mort—Vive le roi!</i>” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + </h2> + <p> + THERE was a hush upon the guests at the pretty little inn. Most of them + were not sojourners of a day, who came and went, as they did at the larger + and busier hotels,—they were comfortable people who enjoyed + themselves in their own quiet way and so had settled down for the time + being. Accordingly they had leisure to become interested in each other; + and there were few of them who did not feel a friendly interest in the + pretty, pale English girl, who, report said, was fading silently out of + life in her bright room up-stairs. When Aimée arrived, the most + sympathetic shook their heads dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “The sister is here,” they said; “a thoughtful little English creature + with a child's face and a woman's air. They sent for her. One can easily + guess what that means.” + </p> + <p> + Any one but Aimée would have been crushed at the outset by the shock of + the change which was to be seen in the poor little worn figure, now rarely + moved from its invalid's couch. But Aimée bore the blow with outward quiet + at least. If she shed tears Dolly did not see them, and if she mourned + Dolly was not disturbed by her sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to help Miss MacDowlas to take care of you, Dolly,” she said, + when she gave her her greeting kiss, and Dolly smiled and kissed her in + return. + </p> + <p> + But it was a terribly hard matter to fight through at first. Of course, as + the girl had become weaker she had lost power over herself. She was + restless and listless by turns. Sometimes she started at every sound, and + again she lay with closed eyes for hours, dozing the day away. The mere + sight of her in this latter state threw poor Phemie into an agony of + terror and distress. + </p> + <p> + “It is so like Death,” she would say to Aimée. “It seems as if we could + never rouse her again.” + </p> + <p> + And then again she would rally a little, and at such times she would + insist upon being propped up and allowed to talk, and her eyes would grow + large and bright, and a spot of hectic color would burn on her cheeks. She + did not even mention her trouble during the first two days of Aimée's + visit, but on the third afternoon she surprised her by broaching the + subject suddenly. She had been dozing, and on awakening she began to talk. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” she said, “where is Miss MacDowlas?” + </p> + <p> + “In her room. I persuaded her to go and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad,” quietly. “I want to do something particular. I want + Grif's letters, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” Aimée asked. + </p> + <p> + “In a box in my trunk. I should like to have them now.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée brought them to her without comment. The box had not been large + enough to hold them all, and there was an extra packet tied with that dear + old stereotyped blue ribbon. + </p> + <p> + “What a many there are!” said Dolly, when she came to the couch with them. + “You will have to sit down by me and hold some of them. One can write a + great many letters in seven years.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one sat down, obediently holding the box upon her knee. There + were so many letters in it that it was quite heavy. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to look them over and tie them in packages, according to their + dates,” said Dolly. “He will like to have them when he comes back.” + </p> + <p> + It would not have been natural for her to preserve her calmness all + through the performance of her task. Her first glance at the first letter + brought the tears, and she cried quietly as she passed from one to the + other. They were such tender, impetuous letters. The very headings—"My + Darling,” “My pretty Darling,” “My own sweetest Life"—impassioned, + youthful-sounding, and Grif-like, cut her to the heart. Ah! how terrible + it would be for him to see them again, as he would see them! She was + pitying him far more than she was pitying herself. + </p> + <p> + It was a work not soon over, but she finished it at length. The packets + were assorted and tied with new ribbon, and she lay down for a few minutes + to rest. + </p> + <p> + “You will give them to him, Aimée?” she said. “I think he will come some + day; but if he does not, you must keep them yourself. I should not like + people to read them—afterwards. Love-letters won't stand being read + by strangers. I have often laughed and told him ours would n't. I am going + to write a last one, however, this afternoon. You are to give it him, with + the 'dead' letter—but they are all dead letters, are they not?” + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” said Aimée, with a desperate effort, “you speak as if you were + sure you were—going.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, and then a soft, low, tremulous laugh,—the + merest echo of a laugh. Despite her long suffering Dolly was Dolly yet. + She would not let them mourn over her. + </p> + <p> + “Going,” she said, “well—I think I am. Yes,” half reflectively, “I + think I must be. It cannot mean anything else,—this feeling, can it? + It was a long time before I quite believed it myself, Aimée, but now I + should be obliged to believe it if I did not wish to.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you wish to, now?” + </p> + <p> + That little silence again, and then— + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see Grif,—I want Grif,—that is all.” + </p> + <p> + She managed to write her last love-letter after this, and to direct it and + tie it with the letter which had returned to her,—the “dead” letter. + But the effort seemed to tire her very much, and when all was done and her + restless excitement had died out, she looked less like herself than ever. + She could talk no more, and was so weak and prostrate that Aimée was + alarmed into summoning Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + But Miss MacDowlas could only shake her head. “We cannot do anything to + rouse her,” she said. “It is often so. If the end comes, it will come in + this way. She feels no pain.” + </p> + <p> + That night Aimée wrote to those at home. They must come at once if they + wanted to see Dolly. She watched all night by the bedside herself; she + could not have slept if she had gone to her own room, and so she remained + with Dolly, watching her doze and waken, starting from nervous sleeps and + sinking into them again. + </p> + <p> + “There will not be many nights through which I can watch,” she said to + herself. “Even this might be the last.” And then she turned to the window, + and cried silently, thinking of Grif, and wondering what she should say to + him, if they ever met again. + </p> + <p> + How could she say to him, “Dolly is dead! Dolly died because you left + her!” + </p> + <p> + Another weary day and night, and then the old change came again. The + feverish strength seemed to come once more. Dolly would be propped up, and + talk. Before very long Aimée began to fancy that she had something she + wished to say to Miss Mac-Dowlas. She followed her movements with eager, + unsatisfied eyes, and did not seem at ease until she sat down near her. + Then when she had secured her attention the secret revealed itself. She + had something to say about Grif. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, during the long weary weeks of her illness she had learned to + place much confidence in Miss MacDowlas. Her affectionate nature had clung + to her. In telling anecdotes of life in Vagabondia, she had talked of + Grif,—Vagabondia would not have been Vagabondia without Grif,—and + there was always a thrill of faithful love in her simplest mention of him. + Truly, Miss MacDowlas beheld her reprobate nephew in a new light, + surrounded by a halo of innocent romance and unselfish tenderness. This + poor little soul, who was breaking her heart for his sake, showed him + sinned against but never sinning, unfortunate but never to blame, showed + him honest, sweet of nature, true, and faultless. Where were his faults in + the eyes of his first and last love? The simple, whimsical stories of + their loves and lovers' quarrels, of their small economies and perfect + faith in the future,—a faith so sadly wrecked, as it seemed, by + cruel Fate,—brought tears into Miss MacDowlas's eyes. Eloquent, + affectionate Dolly won her over before she knew what she was thinking + about. He could not have been such a reprobate, after all,—this + Griffith Donne, who had so often roused her indignation. Perhaps he could + not help being literary and wearing a shabby coat and a questionable hat. + And Dolly had in the end begun to see how her long-fixed opinion had + softened and changed. So she had courage to plead for Grif this afternoon. + She wanted to be sure that if he should ever come back, there would be a + hand outstretched to help him. + </p> + <p> + “He only wanted help,” she said; “and no one has ever helped him, though + he tried so hard and worked so. Aimée knows how hard he worked, don't you, + Aimée?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Aimée, turning her working face away. + </p> + <p> + “I should like you to promise,” said Dolly, wistfully, to Miss MacDowlas. + “It would make me so much happier. You have been so kind to me,—I am + sure you will be kind to him,—poor Grif,—poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas bent over her, touched to the heart. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “he shall never want help again. He must have been + worthy of so much love, or he would never have won it. I owe him some + recompense, too. If I had not been so stupidly blind I might have saved + you both all this pain. I have grown very fond of you, Dolly,” she ended; + and then, being quite overcome, she kissed the pretty hair suddenly, gave + the thin hand an almost motherly squeeze, and made the best of her way out + of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” said Dolly, “do you remember how often I have made fun of her, + when we were all so happy together? We made a good many mistakes, even in + Vagabondia, did n't we?” And then she closed her eyes and lay silent, with + wet lashes resting on her cheek. + </p> + <p> + In speaking of this afternoon, long afterwards, Aimée said it seemed the + longest and weariest she had ever known. It was extremely hot, and the + very air seemed laden with heavy languor. The sun beat down upon the outer + world whitely, and scarcely a leaf stirred. Miss MacDowlas did not return, + and Dolly, though she was not asleep, lay quite still and did not open her + eyes again. So Aimée sat and watched at her side, wondering how the day + would end,—wondering if Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie would arrive + before it was too late,—wondering what that strange last hour would + be like, and how Dolly would bear it when it came, and how they themselves + would bear to think of it when it was over. + </p> + <p> + She was not quite sure how long she sat watching so, but she fancied that + it must have been two or three hours, or even more. She got up at last and + drew down the green blinds as noiselessly as possible, and then went back + to her place and rested her head upon the pillow near Dolly's, feeling + drowsy and tired,—she had slept so little during the past few + nights. + </p> + <p> + Dolly moved restlessly, stretching out her hand to Aimée's and opening her + eyes all at once—ah! what large, hollow, shadowy eyes they were! + </p> + <p> + “I am very tired,” she murmured, “so tired and so weak, Aimée,” dreamily. + “I suppose this is what you would call dying of a broken heart. It seems + so queer that I should die of a broken heart.” “Oh, Dolly—Dolly!” + Aimée whispered, “our own dearest dear, we never thought such pain could + come to you.” + </p> + <p> + But even the next moment Dolly seemed to have lost herself, her eyes + closed again and she did not speak. So Aimée lay holding her hand, until + the indoor silence, the shadow of the room, and the sound of the droning + bees outside lulled her into a sort of doze, and her own eyelids fell + wearily. + </p> + <p> + A minute, was it, five or ten, or more than that? + </p> + <p> + She could not say. She only remembered her own last words, the warmth, the + shadow, the droning of the bees, and the gradual losing consciousness, and + then she was wide awake again,—awakened by a strange, wild cry, + which, thrilling and echoing through the room, made her start up with a + beating heart and look towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Grif!” + </p> + <p> + That was all,—only this single rapturous cry, and Dolly, who had + before seemed not to have the strength of a child, was sitting up, a + white, tremulous figure, with outstretched arms and fluttering breath, and + Grif was standing upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Even when she had blamed him most, Aimée had pitied him also; but she had + never pitied him as she did when he strode to the couch and took the weak, + worn, tremulous little figure in his arms. He could not speak,—neither + spoke. Dolly lay upon his breast crying like a little child. But for him—his + grief was terrible; and when the loving hand was laid upon his cheek and + Dolly found her first words, they only seemed to make it worse. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” she said. “Don't cry, dear. Kiss me!” He kissed her lips, her + hands, her hair. He could not bear it. She was so like, yet so fearfully + unlike, the winsome, tender creature he had loved so long. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he cried, in his old mad way, “you are dying, and if you die + it will be I who have murdered you!” + </p> + <p> + She moved a little nearer, so that her pretty face rested against his + shoulder and she could lift her streaming eyes to his, her old smile + shining through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old fellow,” she said, “darling old fellow, whom I love with all my + soul! I shall live just to prove that you have done nothing of the kind!” + </p> + <p> + It was only Grif she wanted,—only Grif, and Grif had come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + </h2> + <p> + OF course she recovered. What else could she do? If a man is dying for + want of bread and you give him bread enough and to spare, he will regain + strength and life, will he not? And so with Dolly. Having found Grif, she + had nothing to die for and so much to live for, that she lived. It seemed, + too, that even if she had been inclined to die, Grif would have held her + fast to earth. It was worse than useless to attempt to delude him into + leaving her side, even for an hour; he hung over the invalid's couch, in + such an anguish of half-despairing anxiety that the hearts of the + unceremoniously deposed nurses were quite touched. He watched every change + in Dolly's face, every brightening or fading tint in her cheek, every + glance of her eyes; he followed her every movement. If she was tired of + her posture, he could raise her or lay her down and settle her cushions as + no one else could; if she was strong enough to listen, he could talk to + her; if she was too weak, he could be silent. + </p> + <p> + But naturally there was much to talk about. Not that the period of his + absence had been a very eventful one. It was as Ralph Gowan had fancied,—he + had been living quietly enough in a secluded London street during the + whole of the time; but Dolly found the history of his self-banishment both + interesting and soul-moving. The story of his miseries brought the tears + into her eyes, and his picture of what he had suffered on that unhappy + night, when he had rushed out of the house and left her insensible upon + the sofa, made her cling to his hand convulsively and sob outright. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely believe you are here,—quite safe,” she would say; + “you might have killed yourself.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed he had been in no small danger of so doing. + </p> + <p> + Among all this, however, there was one bit of brightness,—a + wonderful piece of news he told her that very day after his return. + Fortune had, with her usual caprice, condescended to smile upon him at + last. Incredible as it appeared, he had “got into something,” and this + “something” was actually remunerative,—reasonably remunerative, if + not extravagantly so. Four hundred a year would pay the rent of the + figurative house in Putney or elsewhere, and buy the green sofa and + appurtenances, at least. Dolly could scarcely believe it, and, indeed, he + scarcely believed it himself. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed as if, when I had lost all else, this came to add to the + bitterness of the loss,” he said. “I am afraid I was far from being as + grateful, at first, as I ought to have been. I could only remember how + happy such luck would have made us both if it had only come a year or so + earlier. And the very day I got the place I passed the upholsterer's where + the parlor furniture was,—green sofa and all. And I went home with + the firm intention of blowing my brains out. The only thing that saved me + that day was the fact that my landlady met me at the door with a miserable + story about her troubles and her taxes, and by the time I had listened for + half an hour, and done something she wanted done, I had cooled down a + little, though I was wretched enough.” + </p> + <p> + “The 'something' was paying the taxes, was n't it?” questioned Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Something of that kind,” admitted Griffith. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Dolly, “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + Very naturally Griffith felt some slight embarrassment on encountering + Miss MacDowlas, having a rather unpleasant recollection of various + incidents of the past. But Miss Berenice faced the matter in a different + manner and with her usual decision of character. She had made up her mind + to receive Griffith Donne as a respectable fact, and then, through Dolly's + eloquence, she had learned to regard him with even a sort of affection,—a + vague affection, of course, at the outset, but one which would ripen with + time. Thus she rather surprised him by confronting him upon an entirely + new ground. She was cordial and amiable, and on the first opportunity she + explained her change of feeling with great openness. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard so much of you from Dolly,” she said, “that I am convinced I + have known nothing of you before. I hope we shall be better friends. I am + very fond of Dolly. I wish I had known her three or four years ago.” + </p> + <p> + And there was such a softened tenderness in her thin, unpromising face, + that from thenceforward Griffith's doubts were removed and his opinion + altered, as hers had done. The woman who had loved and pitied Dolly when + she so sorely needed pity and love, must be worthy of gratitude and + affection. + </p> + <p> + Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie arriving, in the deepest affliction, to + receive Dolly's last farewell, were rather startled by the turn affairs + had taken. Changed as she was, the face she turned to greet them was not + the face of a dying girl. She was deplorably pale and shrunken and thin, + but the light of life was in her eyes and a new ring was in her voice. She + had vitality enough to recognize fresh charms in Tod, and spirit enough to + make a few jokes. + </p> + <p> + “She won't die,” commented Phil to his wife when they retired to their + room. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Phil, discreetly, “it is not likely, now Grif has come + back. But it won't do to waste the journey, Phil, so we may as well stay + awhile. We have not been anywhere out of London this summer.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, with their usual genius for utilizing all things, they + prolonged their visit and made it into a kind of family festival; and + since their anxiety on Dolly's behalf was at an end, they managed to enjoy + it heartily. They walked here, and rode there, and explored unheard-of + points and places; they kept the quiet people in the quiet hotel in a + constant state of pleasant ferment with their good spirits and + unceremonious friendliness. Mollie and Aimée and Mrs. Phil excited such + general admiration that when they made their appearance at the <i>table + d'hôte</i> there was a visible stir and brightening, and Dolly was so + constantly inquired after, that there were serious thoughts entertained of + issuing hourly bulletins. The reaction of high spirits after their fears + was something exhilarating even to beholders. + </p> + <p> + And while they enjoyed themselves, and explored, and instituted a high + carnival of innocent rejoicing, Dolly directed all her energies to the + task of getting well and filling Grif's soul with hope and bliss. As soon + as she had fully recovered they were to be married,—not a day, not + an hour, longer would Grif consent to wait. His only trouble was that she + would not be strong enough to superintend the purchase of the green sofa + and appurtenances. Aimée had, however, proved his rock of refuge as usual + They were to return to London together and make the necessary + preparations, and then the wedding was to take place in Geneva, and the + bride would be carried home in triumph. + </p> + <p> + “We have been so long in travelling toward the little house at Putney that + it will be the nicest bridal tour we could have,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + Then, of course, came some pleasant excitement in connection with the + trousseau, in which everybody was involved. The modest hotel had never + before been in such a state of mind through secret preparations, as it was + when Dolly was well enough to sit up and walk about and choose patterns. + Her instinct of interest in worldly vanities sustained that young person + marvellously. When Grif and Aimée had returned to London she found herself + well enough to give lengthy audiences to Mrs. Phil, who, with Miss + MacDowlas, had taken the business of purchasing in hand, and to discuss + fabrics and fashions by the hour. She remembered Grifs enthusiasm on the + subject of her toilets, and she was wholly ruled by a secret and laudable + ambition to render herself as irresistible as possible. She exercised to + its utmost her inventive genius, and lay awake at night to devise simple + but coquettish feminine snares of attire to delight and bewilder him in + the future. + </p> + <p> + She might well progress rapidly toward health and strength. By the time + the house was ready for her reception she was well enough to drive out and + explore with the rest, though she looked frail and unsubstantial by + contrast with Mollie's bloom and handsome Mrs. Phil's grand curves. She + was gaining flesh and color every day, but the slender throat and wrists + and transparent hands were a bitter reproach to Grif even then, and it + would be many weeks before she could again indulge in that old harmless + vanity in her dimples and smooth roundness of form. + </p> + <p> + Mollie mourned over her long, in secret, and, indeed, was so heart-wrung + by the sight of the change she found in her, that the very day of her + arrival had not drawn to its close before she burst upon her with a + remorseful appeal for forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “But even if you forgive me I shall not forgive myself,” she said. “I + shall never forget that dreadful night when I found out that it was all my + fault, and that you had borne everything without telling me. If—if + it had not been for—for Mr. Gowan, Dolly, I think I should have + died.” + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for whom?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” answered Miss Mollie, dropping her eyes, her very throat dyed + with guilty blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dolly. “And what did Mr. Gowan do, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very kind—and sympathizing,” replied Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “He always is sympathizing,” looking at her with affectionate shrewdness. + “He is very nice, is n't he, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mollie. “Very nice, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “And I dare say you were so frightened and wretched that you cried?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” confessed the abashed catechised. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” And then, conjuring up in her mind's eye a picture of + Mollie, heart-broken, appealing and in tears, beauteous, piteous, and + grief-abandoned, she added, with tender impulsiveness, “I don't wonder + that he sympathized with you, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + It revealed itself shortly afterward that his sympathy had not confined + itself to the night Mollie called “dreadful.” Since that night he had been + a frequent visitor at Bloomsbury Place,—as frequent a visitor as he + had been in the days when Dolly had been wont so to entertain him. + </p> + <p> + A week after the return of Aimée and Grif from London, there fell again + upon the modest hotel a hush; but it was not the hush of sympathetic + silence which had fallen upon it before,—it was merely a sort of + reaction after a slight excitement. The pretty English girl had, to every + one's wonder, suddenly returned to earth and had been married! The wisest + were bewildered, but such was the fact, nevertheless; nobody could exactly + comprehend, but who could deny it? It was a mystery, indeed, until one + day, some time after, a usually phlegmatic matron was struck with an idea, + and accordingly propounded to her friends a somewhat vaguely expressed + problem. + </p> + <p> + “After the appearance of the lover one heard no more that she was dying?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the lover had something to do with the matter?”, “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she was dying for him, and his coming cured her?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. That must have been the case.” + </p> + <p> + And thenceforth the matter was deemed settled. However, the gay, + light-hearted party of English had taken their departure,—the + friendly young artist who sketched and smoked and enjoyed himself; his + handsome young wife, who sketched and played with her handsome child, and + enjoyed <i>herself</i>; the beautiful younger sister, who blushed and was + charmingly bashful, but enjoyed herself; the fair little saint with the + grave youthful face, who took care of them all, and yet enjoyed <i>herself</i>,—the + lover, the elder lady, the guest who came to be groomsman, the bride,—they + were all gone at last, and their absence was the cause of the hush of + which I speak. + </p> + <p> + There had been a wedding,—a joyous, light-hearted wedding, in which + the bride had looked pretty and flower-like and ethereal,—a fragile + creature enough in her white dress and under her white veil, but a + delightfully happy creature, notwithstanding,—in which the + bridegroom had been plainly filled with chivalric tenderness and bliss,—in + which the two sisters had been charming beyond measure, and the awkward, + affectionate girl friend from the seminary had blushed herself into a high + fever. There could not have been a more prettily orthodox wedding, said + the beholders. Somehow its glow of young romance touched people, it was so + evident that the young couple were fond of each other, and happy and + hopeful. There were those who, seeing it solemnized in the small church, + shed a few tears, they knew not why, when Grif lifted Dolly's veil and + kissed her without a word. + </p> + <p> + “It is all rose color to them,” said one of these soft-hearted ones, + apologetically, to her neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Rose color! I should think it was. + </p> + <p> + But if it was all rose color then, what was it that first evening they + spent at home,—in their own home, in the little house which was so + bright and pretty that it seemed more like a dream than a reality? What + color did life look when Grif led Dolly across the threshold, half + trembling himself for very joy? What color did it look when he shut the + door of the little parlor, and, turning round, went to her and folded her + in his arms close to his beating heart? + </p> + <p> + Rose color! It was golden and more than golden! And yet, for the first + minute, Dolly could not speak, and the next she laid her cheek in her + favorite place, on the lapel of Grif's coat, and burst into a great gush + of soft, warm tears,—tears without a touch of any other element, + however, than love and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Home</i>, Grif!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He was quite pale and he had almost lost his voice, too, but he managed to + answer her, unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dolly,” he said; “home!” And he stroked the bright hair upon his + breast, with a world of meaning in his touch. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said next, “that I am good enough and wise enough to + take care of it, and to take care of <i>you</i>, Grif?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” he said, “that I am good enough and wise enough to take + care of <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her face and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “We love each other,” she whispered, “we trust each other, and so we can + help each other, and God will help us both. Ah, Grif, how bright and sweet + life is!” + </p> + <p> + And she scarcely knew, tender little soul, that instead of “life” she + should have said “love.” + </p> + <p> + There we will leave them both, merely hinting at the festivities that + followed,—merely hinting at the rejoicings at Bloomsbury Place, the + gatherings at Brabazon Lodge, and the grand family reception at the house + of the bride,—a reception at which Dolly shone forth with renewed + splendor, presiding over a gorgeous silver tea-service, which was one of + Miss MacDowlas's many gifts, dispensing tea and coffee with the deportment + of a housekeeper of many years' standing, and utterly distracting Grif + with her matronly airs and graces. + </p> + <p> + Vagabondia was itself again in these days, but it was turning its brighter + side outward. Phil was winning success, too, his position in the world of + art was becoming secured, and Bloomsbury Place was to be touched up and + refurnished gradually. Aimée had promised to make her home with Dolly + until such time as her sweet little saint's face won her a home of her + own. Miss MacDowlas had been adopted into the family circle, and was + conscious of being happier than she had ever felt since her long-past + youth slipped from her grasp. Tod's teeth were “through,” as Mrs. Phil + phrased it, and convulsions had not supervened, to the ecstasy of his + anxious admirers. And Mollie,—well, Mollie waltzed with Ralph Gowan + again on the night of Dolly's reception, and when the dance was at an end, + she went and seated herself near her hostess upon the green sofa—it + was a green sofa, though a far more luxurious one than Dolly and Grif had + ever dared to set their hearts upon in the olden days. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, blushing for the last time in this history of mine, and + looking down at her bouquet of waxen-white camellias and green leaves,—"Dolly, + I suppose Aimée has told you that I am engaged to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To Mr. Gowan,” suggested Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Mollie, “to Mr. Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 25727-h.htm or 25727-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2/25727/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: Vagabondia + 1884 + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: June 8, 2008 [EBook #25727] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + VAGABONDIA + </h1> + <h2> + By Frances Hodgson Burnett + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY - 1884 + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AUTHOR'S NOTE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>VAGABONDIA.</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON + US. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH + BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN + LONG YEARS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AUTHOR'S NOTE. + </h2> + <p> + This my first novel was written several years ago, and published (without + any revision by me) first in a ladies' magazine under the name of + “Dorothea,” and afterwards in book form as “Dolly.” For reasons not + necessary to state here, all control over the book had passed from my + hands. It has been for some time out of print; but, having at last + obtained control of the copyright, I have made such corrections as seemed + advisable, given it the name I originally intended for it, and now issue + it through my regular publishers. + </p> + <p> + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. + </p> + <p> + Washington, November, 1883. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + VAGABONDIA. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL. + </h2> + <p> + It was a nondescript sort of a room, taking it altogether. A big, sunny + room, whose once handsome papering and corniceing had grown dingy, and + whose rich carpeting had lost its color and pile in places, and yet + asserted its superiority to its surroundings with an air of lost grandeur + in every shabby medallion. There were pictures in abundance on the walls, + and more than one of them were gems in their way, despite the evidence all + bore to being the work of amateurs. The tables were carved elaborately, + and the faded, brocaded chairs were of the order <i>pouf</i>, and as + inviting as they were disreputable in appearance; there was manuscript + music among the general litter, a guitar hung from the wall by a tarnished + blue and silver ribbon, and a violin lay on the piano; and yet, + notwithstanding the air of free-and-easy disorder, one could hardly help + recognizing a sort of vagabond comfort and luxury in the Bohemian + surroundings. It was so very evident that the owners must enjoy life in an + easy, light-hearted, though perhaps light-headed fashion; and it was also + so very evident that their light hearts and light heads rose above their + knowledge of their light purses. + </p> + <p> + They were congregated together now, holding a grand family council around + the centre-table, and Dolly was the principal feature, as usual; and, + embarrassing as the subject of said council was, not one of them looked as + if it was other than a most excellent joke that Dolly, having been invited + into the camps of the Philistines, should find she had nothing to put on + to grace the occasion. And as to Dolly,—well, that young person + stood in the midst of them in her shabby, Frenchy little hat, slapping one + pink palm with a shabby, shapely kid glove, her eyes alight, her comical + dismay and amusement displaying itself even in the arch of her brows. + </p> + <p> + “And so the Philistine leader pounced upon me herself,” she was saying. + “You know the 'Ark,' Phil? Well, they were all in the Ark,—the Rev. + Bilberry in front, and the boys and girls filling up the corners; so you + may imagine the effect produced when they stopped, and Lady Augusta bent + over the side to solemnly proclaim her intention of inviting me to partake + of coffee and conversation on Friday night, with an air of severely + wondering whether I would dare to say 'No!'” + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't you say it?” said Aimée. “You know it will be an awful bore, + Dolly. Those Bilberry clan gatherings always are. You have said so + yourself often enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have,” returned Dolly. “And of course it will be, but it + would be dreadfully indiscreet to let the Bilberry element know I thought + so. The Bilberry doors once closed against us, where is our + respectability, and Phil's chance of success among the Philistines? It is + bad enough, of course, but there is reason to be thankful that I am the + only victim. The rest of you would be sure to blunder into the B. B. B.'s + [meaning the Bilberry black books], and that <i>would</i> be an agreeable + state of affairs. 'Toinette, look at Tod, he is sitting in the coal-box + eating Phil's fusees.” + </p> + <p> + In 'Toinette we find Mrs. Phil, a handsome creature, young enough to have + been in the school-room, but with the face and figure of a Greek goddess, + and a pair of eyes lovely enough to haunt one's dreams as a memory for a + lifetime, and as to the rest, an inconsistent young madcap, whose beauty + and spirit seemed only a necessary part of the household arrangements, and + whose son and heir, in the person of the enterprising Tod (an abbreviate + of Theodore), was the source of unlimited domestic enjoyment and the + object of much indiscreet adoration. It was just like Philip Crewe, this + marrying on probabilities; and it was equally like the rest of them to + accept the state of affairs as an excellent joke, and regard the result as + an exquisite piece of pleasantry. 'Toinette herself was only another + careless, unworldly addition to the family circle, and enjoyed her + position as thoroughly as the rest did; and as to Tod, what a delicate + satire upon responsibilities Tod was, and how tranquilly he comported + himself under a <i>régime</i> which admitted of free access into dangerous + places, and a lack of personal restraint which allowed him all the joys + the infantile mind can revel in! + </p> + <p> + At Dolly's exclamation Toinette rushed at him in his stronghold, and + extricated him from the coal-box with demonstrations of dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Look at his white dress!” she wailed pathetically. “I only put it on a + few minutes ago; and he has eaten two dozen fusees, if this was n't an + empty box when he found it. I hope they won't disagree with him, Phil.” + </p> + <p> + “They won't,” said Phil, composedly. “Nothing does. Dust him, and proceed + to business. I want to hear the rest of Dolly's story.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>think</i>,” said Mollie, “that he ate Shem and Ham this morning, for + I could only find Japheth after he had been playing with his Noah's Ark. + Go on, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait until I have taken off my things,” said Dolly, “and then we 'll talk + it over. We must talk it over, you know, if I am to go.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hat, and then laid her shawl aside,—a little + scarlet shawl, draped about her figure and tossed over one shoulder + smartly, and by no means ungracefully,—and so stood revealed; and it + must be admitted she was well worth looking at. Not a beauty, but a fresh, + wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair, and + large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, because capricious + in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likely to persuade + people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolute beauty could + be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would rather detract from + the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reigned supreme. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular,” she + would say; “it's the being able to persuade people that you are one,—or + better than one. Don't some historians tell us that Cleopatra had red hair + and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind the world so + completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, and to this day + the generality of people are inclined to believe that it was her + supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at her feet.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée's face was more nearly perfect than Dolly's; Mollie's was more + imposing, child as she was; 'Toinette threw her far into the shade in the + matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did all the + difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionable + adorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source of + rejoicing and entertainment to the family. + </p> + <p> + Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music, + paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the most + comfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest to seat + themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen, large, + fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, dropped into a + not ungraceful position at her feet. Aimée, who was a little maiden with a + tender, <i>spirituelle</i> face, and all the forethought of the family, + sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression. 'Toinette and Tod, + <i>posed</i> in the low nursery-chair,—the girl's firm, white arm + flung around the child,—swung lightly to and fro, fit models for an + artist. + </p> + <p> + “You would make a first-class picture,—the lot of you,” commented + Phil, amicably. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the picture,” said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippers + up under her wrapper. “We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going to the + Bilberrys'. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had a + turquoise-blue sat—” + </p> + <p> + “Heavenly!” interrupted Dolly. “I should think so. Particularly celestial + for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, and peculiarly + celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would be as much as my + reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You must learn + discretion, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “There is some consolation in knowing you can't get it,” said 'Toinette. + “You won't be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what <i>are</i> + you going to wear, Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + “That is for the council to decide,” Dolly returned. “First, we must + settle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Other people go the other way about it,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “If we were only rich!” said Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not,” said Dolly. + “There is one thing certain, however,—it must be white.” + </p> + <p> + “A simple white muslin,” suggested 'Toinette, struggling in the grasp of + the immortal Tod,—"a simple white muslin, with an equally simple + wild flower in your hair, <i>à la</i> Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager + Bilberry <i>would</i> like that.” + </p> + <p> + “And a wide blue sash,” suggested Mollie. “And the sleeves tied up with + bows. <i>And</i> tucks, Dolly. Girls, just think of Dolly making great + eyes at an eligible Philistine, in white muslin and a sash and tucks!” + </p> + <p> + She was a hardened little sinner, this Dolly, her only redeeming point + being that she was honest enough about her iniquities,—so honest + that they were really not such terrible iniquities after all, and were + regarded as rather good fun by the <i>habitués</i> of Vagabondia proper. + She laughed just as heartily as the rest of them at Mollie's speech. She + could no more resist the temptation of making great eyes at eligible + Philistines than she could help making them at the entertaining but highly + ineligible Bohemians, who continually frequented Phil's studio. The fear + of man was not before her eyes; and the life she had led had invested her + with a whimsical yet shrewd knowledge of human nature, and a business-like + habit of looking matters in the face, which made her something of a + novelty; and when is not novelty irresistible? And as to the masculine + Philistines,—well, the audacity of Dolly's successes in the very + midst of the enemy's camp had been the cause of much stately + demoralization of Philistine battalions. + </p> + <p> + At her quietest she created small sensations and attracted attention; but + in her wicked moods, when she was in a state of mind to prompt her to + revenge the numerous small slights and overt acts of lofty patronage she + met with, the dowagers stood in some secret awe of her propensities, and + not without reason. Woe betide the daring matron who measured swords with + her at such times. Great would be her confusion and dire her fall before + the skirmish was over, and nothing was more certain than that she would + retire from the field a wiser if not a better woman. After being + triumphantly routed with great slaughter on two or three occasions, the + enemy had discovered this, and decided mentally that it was more discreet + to let “little Miss Crewe” alone, considering that, though it was + humiliating to be routed, even by one of their own forces, it was + infinitely more so to be routed by an innocent-looking young person, whose + position was questionable, and who actually owed her vague shadow of + respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady Augusta Decima + Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, and mother of + the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little Miss Crewe was music + teacher and morning governess. + </p> + <p> + So it was that Mollie's joke about the tucks and white muslin gained + additional point from the family recollection of past experiences. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, “it won't do to talk + nonsense all day. Here 's where we stand, you know. Coffee and + conversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggled old + green tarlatan on the other, and it's Tuesday now.” + </p> + <p> + “And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in the family + mind,” began Phil, with composure. + </p> + <p> + “But that 's nonsense,” interrupted Aimée. “And, as Dolly says, nonsense + won't do now. But,” with a quaint sigh, “we always <i>do</i> talk + nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, with an + exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie's lap, disappeared + through the open door. + </p> + <p> + “I will be back in a minute,” she called back to them, as she ran + up-stairs. “I have just thought of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Girls,” said Mollie, “it's her white merino.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,—a heap of + soft white folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging after + her upon the carpet,—the one presentable relic of a once + inconsistently elaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled + and rolled-up condition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to + unlimited improvement. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten all about it,” she said, triumphantly. “I have never + needed it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but it + looked so nice when I saw it that I could n't help buying it. I once + thought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly, + it 's what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,—things + always come somehow.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be more + rejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would have + been over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperous + people. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turn + now, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrine of + the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly's best bonnet, + or Mollie's shoes, or Aimée's gloves, when occasion demanded such a + course. So the merino was laid upon the table, and the council rose to + examine, comment, and suggest. + </p> + <p> + “A train,” said Dolly, concisely; “no trimming, and swan's-down. Even the + Bilberry could n't complain of that, I 'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, resting her smooth white elbows on the table in a comfortably + lounging posture, regarded the garment with great longing in her drowsy + brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was white satin,” she observed, somewhat irrelevantly, “and I + was going to wear it at a real ball, with real lace, you know, and a court + train, and flowers, and a fan.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly looked down at her handsome childish face good-naturedly. She was + such an incongruous mixture of beauty and utter simplicity, this + easy-going baby of sixteen, that Dolly could not have helped liking her + heartily under any circumstances, even supposing there had been no tie of + relationship between them. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was white satin and you were going to wear it,” she said. + “White satin is just the sort of thing for you, Mollie. Never mind, wait + until the figurative ship comes in.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the interval,” suggested Aimée, “put a stitch or so in that + wrapper of yours. It has been torn for a week now, and Tod tumbles over it + half a dozen times every morning before breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie cast her eyes over her shoulder to give it an indifferent glance as + it rested on the faded carpet behind her. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Lady Augusta would mend things before she sends them to us,” she + said, with sublime <i>naïveté</i>, and then, at the burst of laughter + which greeted her words, she stopped short, staring at the highly + entertained circle with widely opened, innocent eyes. “What are you + laughing at?” she said. “I 'm sure she might. She is always preaching + about liking to have something to occupy her time, and it would be far + more charitable of her to spend her time in that way than in persistently + going into poor houses where the people don't want her, and reading tracts + to them that they don't want to hear.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's appreciation of the audacity of the idea reached a climax in an + actual shriek of delight. + </p> + <p> + “If I had five pounds, which I have not, and never shall have,” she said, + “I would freely give it just to see Lady Augusta hear you say that, my + dear. Five pounds! I would give ten—twenty—fifty, if need be. + It would be such an exquisite joke.” + </p> + <p> + But Mollie did not regard the matter in this light. To her unsophisticated + mind Lady Augusta represented nothing more than periodical boredom in the + shape of occasional calls, usually made unexpectedly, when the house was + at its worst, and nobody was especially tidy,—calls invariably + enlivened by severe comments upon the evil propensities of poor relations + in general, and the shocking lack of respectability in this branch of the + order in particular. Worldly wisdom was not a family trait, Dolly's + half-whimsical assumption of it being the only symptom of the existence of + such a gift, and Mollie was the most sublimely thoughtless of the lot. + Mrs. Phil had never been guilty of a discreet act in her life. Phil + himself regarded consequences less than he regarded anything else, and + Aimée's childish staidness and forethought had certainly not an atom of + worldliness in it. Accordingly, Dolly was left to battle with society, and + now and then, it must be admitted, the result of her brisk affrays did her + no small credit. + </p> + <p> + For a very short space of time the merino was being disposed of to an + advantage; Dolly seating herself in her chair again to renovate the skirt; + Aimée unpicking the bodice, and Mollie looking on with occasional + comments. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Griffith,” she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder at a + figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was opened without + ceremony, and “Grif” made his appearance upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feel + inclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance. He was + a thin, undersized young man, rather out at elbows and shabby of attire, + and with a decided air of Bohemia about him; but his youthful face was + singularly pleasing and innocent, and his long-lashed, brown-black eyes + were more than good-looking,—they were absolutely beautiful in a + soft, pathetic way,—beautiful as the eyes of the loveliest of women. + </p> + <p> + He came into the room as if he was used to coming into it in an every-day + fashion; and Dolly, looking up, gave him a smile and a nod. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are all here, are you?” he said. “What is on hand now? What is + all this white stuff for?” And he drew a chair up close by Dolly's side, + and lifted the merino in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “For Friday night,” answered Aimée. “Bilberry's again, Griffith. Coffee + and conversation this time.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith looked at Dolly inquiringly, but Dolly only laughed and shrugged + her plump shoulders wickedly. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, with a disapproving air, “it ain't true, is it, + Dolly? You are not going to make a burnt-offering of yourself on the + Bilberry shrine again, are you?” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly only laughed the more as she took the merino from him. + </p> + <p> + “If you want a breadth of merino to hold, take another one,” she said. “I + want that. And as to being a burnt-offering on the shrine of Bilberry, my + dear Griffith, you must know it is policy,” and immediately went on with + her unpicking again, while Griffith, bending over in an attitude more + remarkable for ease than grace, looked on at her sharp little glancing + scissors with an appearance of great interest. + </p> + <p> + It would perhaps be as well to pause here to account for this young man's + evident freedom in the family circle. It was very plain that he was + accustomed to coming and going when he pleased, and it was easy to be + adduced from his manner that, to him, Dolly was the chief attraction in + the establishment. The fact was, he was engaged to Dolly, and had been + engaged to her for years, and in all probability, unless his prospects + altered their aspect, would be engaged to her for years to come. In past + time, when both were absurdly young, and ought to have been at school, the + two had met,—an impressionable, good-natured, well-disposed couple + of children, who fell in love with each other unreasoningly and honestly, + giving no thought to the future. They were too young to be married, of + course, and indeed had not troubled themselves about anything so matter of + fact; they had fallen in love, and enjoyed it, and, strange to say, had + been enjoying it ever since, and falling in love more deeply every day of + their affectionate, inconsequent, free-and-easy lives. What did it matter + to them that neither owned a solitary sixpence, for which they had not a + thousand uses? What did it matter to Dolly that Griffith's literary career + had so far been so unremunerative that a new suit is as an event, and an + extra shilling an era? What did it matter to Griffith that Dolly's dresses + were re-trimmed and re-turned and re-furbished, until their reappearance + with the various seasons was the opening of a High Carnival of jokes? Love + is not a matter of bread and butter in Vagabondia, thank Heaven! Love is + left to Bohemia as well as to barren Respectability, and, as Griffith + frequently observed with no slight enthusiasm, “When it comes to figure, + where's the feminine Philistine whose silks and satins and purple and fine + raiment fit like Dolly's do?” So it went on, and the two adored each other + with mutual simplicity, and, having their little quarrels, always made + them up again with much affectionate remorse, and, scorning the prudential + advice of outsiders, believed in each other and the better day which was + to come, when one or the other gained worldly goods enough to admit of a + marriage in which they were to be happy in their own way,—which, I + may add, was a way simple and tender, unselfish and faithful, enough. + </p> + <p> + It was quite evident, however, that Griffith was not in the best of + spirits this morning. He was not as sanguine as Dolly by nature, and + outward influences tended rather to depress him occasionally. But he never + was so low-spirited that Dolly could not cheer him, consequently he always + came to her with his troubles; and to her credit, be it said, she never + failed to understand and deal with them tenderly, commonplace though they + were. So she understood his mood very well to-day. Something had gone + wrong at “the office.” (“The office” was the editorial den which swallowed + him up, and held him in bondage from morning until night; appropriating + his labor for a very small pecuniary compensation, too, it may be added.) + “Old Flynn,” as the principal was respectfully designated, had been + creating one of his periodical disturbances, or he had been snubbed, + which, by the way, was not a rare event, and to poor Griffith slights were + stings and patronage poison. He could not laugh at the enemy and scorn + discomfiture as Dolly could, and the consequence of an encounter with the + Philistines on his part was usually a desperate fit of low spirits, which + made him wretched, bitter, and gloomy by turns. + </p> + <p> + This morning it appeared that his spirits had reached their lowest ebb, + and before many minutes had passed he was pouring forth his tribulations + with much frankness and simplicity. Mr. Griffith Donne's principal trial + was the existence of an elderly maiden aunt, who did not approve of him, + and was in the habit of expressing her disapproval in lengthy epistolary + correspondence, invariably tending to severe denunciation of his mode of + life, and also invariably terminating with the announcement that unless he + “desisted” (from what, or in what manner, not specified) she should + consider it her bounden duty to disinherit him forthwith. One of these + periodical epistles, having arrived before he had breakfasted, had rather + destroyed Griffith's customary equanimity, and various events of the + morning had not improved his frame of mind; consequently he came to Dolly + for comfort. + </p> + <p> + “And she's coming to London, too,” he ended, after favoring the assemblage + with extracts from the letter. “And, of course, she will expect me to do + the dutiful. Confound her money! I wish she would build an asylum for + irate, elderly spinsters with it, and retire into it for the remainder of + her natural life. I don't want it, and"—with praiseworthy + ingenuousness—"I shouldn't get it if I did!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Dolly, when they found themselves alone for a few minutes, “it + would be an agreeable sort of thing to have, Griffith, upon the whole, + wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his arm + thrown round the girl's waist, and she with both her plump, flexible hands + clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big, round + eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestling attitudes + and coaxing ways—with Griffith it may be understood—her other + adorers were treated cavalierly enough. + </p> + <p> + “A nice sort of thing,” echoed Griffith. “I should think it would. I + should like to have it for your sake. I don't care for it so much for + myself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy you + such things as Old Flynn's nieces wear. It would n't be a waste of good + material on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about a + winter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,—a dark blue + velvet, and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs + made of long white silky fur—” + </p> + <p> + “Angora,” said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in her + eyes. “Angora, Griffith.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it's called,” answered Griffith, “but it is exactly + your style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we were only + rich!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over his + shoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in some such + pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposing that they + were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must be admitted that + there is some consolation in being in a frame of mind which can derive + happiness from such innocent day-dreams. + </p> + <p> + “Just think of the house we would have,” she said, “and the fun we could + all have together, if you and I were rich and—and married, Griffith. + We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich + <i>and</i> married—goodness, Griffith!” and she opened her eyes wide + and looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome + by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her in + both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an extremely + but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had kissed her + about half a dozen times. + </p> + <p> + It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding. + She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to it, + and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite a + refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her + disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely. + </p> + <p> + “We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich,” she + said. “And then we could take care, of Aimée and Mollie, and help them to + make grand marriages.” + </p> + <p> + But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “have you never thought—not even <i>thought</i> + that you would like to have made a grand marriage yourself?” And though + there was not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it + was glaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate + with misery at the thought. + </p> + <p> + These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girl + bound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly's great difficulty was to pilot + him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and she had her + own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was to confront + him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking hold of one of + his coat buttons. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of it a hundred times,” she said, “but not since I have + belonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteen + years old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have the + right to trouble us now. <i>You</i> never think of marrying any one but + me, do you, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Think of marrying any one else!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “I + would n't marry a female Rajah with a diamond—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you wouldn't,” Dolly interrupted. “I believe in you, Griffith. Why + won't you believe in me?” And the eyes lifted to his were so perfectly + honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics must have believed + them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, but simply an + unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, too susceptible to + outward influences for his own peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + He was a <i>very</i> unfortunate young man, it may as well be observed at + once, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was not + to blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable, + and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If he had + been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been more + successful; but in his intercourse with the world's slippery ones he + customarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for which he + had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; he had + fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck had seemed to + be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honest men admired + and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesied better days; + but so far it had really seemed that the people who were willing to + befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerful cared little + about the matter. So he alternately struggled and despaired, and yet + retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyed life heartily in + defiance of circumstances. With every member of the Crewe household he was + popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagement to Dolly they regarded as a + satisfactory arrangement. That he was barely able to support himself, and + scarcely possessed a presentable suit of clothes, was to their minds the + most inconsequent of trifles. It was unfortunate, perhaps, but + unavoidable; and their sublime trust in the luck which was to ripen in all + of them at some indefinite future time, was their hope in this case. Some + time or other he would “get into something,” they had decided, and then he + would marry Dolly, and they would all enjoy the attendant festivities. And + in the mean time they allowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith + welcome, inviting him to their little impromptu suppers, and taking care + never to be <i>de trop</i> on the occasion of <i>tête-à-tête</i> + conversations. + </p> + <p> + The <i>tête-à-tête</i> of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went + back to her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach + laid for the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of + mind. He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in + enthusiastic confidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; + she was never out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself + to her accompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited + themselves to her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby + parlor, one instinctively felt that shabbiness was not so utterly + unbearable after all, and acknowledged that it had a brightness of its + own. Meeting her at a clan gathering in the camps of the Philistines, one + always found her in excellent spirits, and quite undamped in her enjoyment + of the frequently ponderous rejoicings. In the Bilberry school-room, among + dog-eared French grammars and lead-pencilled music, education did not + appear actually dispiriting; and now, as she sat by the fire, with the + bright, sharp little scissors in lier hand, and the pile of white merino + on her knees and trailing on the hearth-rug at her feet, Griffith found + her simply irresistible. Ah! the bliss that revealed itself in the + prospect of making her Mrs. Donne, and taking possession of her entirely! + The joy of seeing her seated in an arm-chair of his own, by a fire which + was solely his property, in a room which was nobody else's paradise! He + could imagine so well how she would regard such a state of affairs as a + nice little joke, and would pretend to adapt herself to her position with + divers daring witcheries practised upon himself to the dethroning of his + reason; how she would make innocent, wicked speeches, and be coaxing and + dazzling and mock-matronly by turns; and above all, how she would enjoy + it, and make him enjoy it, too; and yet sometimes, when they were quiet + and alone, would drop all her whimsical little airs and graces, and make + such tender, unselfish, poetic little speeches, that he would find himself + startled in life wonder at the depth and warmth and generosity of her + girlish heart. He often found her surprising him after this manner, and + the surprise usually came when he had just been most nearly betrayed into + thinking of her as an adorable little collection of witcheries and + whimsicalities, and forgetting that she had other moods. More than once + she had absolutely brought tears into his eyes, and a thrill to his heart, + by some sudden, pathetic, trustful speech, made after she had been + dazzling and bewildering for hours with her pretty coquetries and daring + flashes of wit. No one but Griffith ever saw her in these intense moods. + The rest of them saw her intense enough sometimes but the sudden, + uncontrollable flashes of light Griffith saw now and then, fairly + staggered him. And the poor fellow's love for her was something akin to + adoration. There was only this one woman upon earth to him, and his whole + soul was bound up in her. It was for her he struggled against + disappointment, it was for her he hoped, it was only the desperate + strength of his love for her that made disappointment so terribly bitter + to him. Certainly his love made him better and sweeter-tempered and more + energetic than he would have been if his life had not been so full of it. + His one ambition was to gain success to lay at her feet. To him success + meant Dolly, and Dolly meant Paradise, an honest Paradise, in which + primeval bliss reigned supreme and trial was unknown. Consequently the + bright little scissors glanced before his eyes a sort of loadstar. + </p> + <p> + “I did n't tell you that nephew of Old Flynn's had come back, did I?” he + said, at length. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, snipping diligently. “You never mentioned him. What + nephew, and where did he come from?” + </p> + <p> + “A fellow of the name of Gowan, who has been travelling in the East for no + particular reason for the last ten years. He called on Flynn, at the + office, today, for the first time; and if I had been called upon to kick + him out, I should have regarded it as a cheerful and improving + recreation.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” laughed Dolly. “Is he one of the Philistines?” + </p> + <p> + “Philistine!” echoed Griffith, with disgust. “I should think so. A + complacent idiot in a chronic state of fatigue. Drove up to the door in a + cab,—his own, by the way, and a confoundedly handsome affair it is,—gave + the reins to his tiger, and stared at the building tranquilly for at least + two minutes before he came in, stared at Old Flynn when he <i>did</i> come + in, stared at me, shook hands with Old Flynn exhaustedly, and then + subsided into listening and paring his nails during the remainder of the + interview.” + </p> + <p> + “Which might or might not be discreet under the circumstances,” said + Dolly. “Perhaps he had nothing to say. Never mind, Grif. Let us console + ourselves with the thought that we are not as these utterly worthless + explorers of the East are,” with a flourish of the scissors. + </p> + <p> + “Better is a dinner of herbs in Vagabondia, with a garnish of conversation + and <i>bon-mots</i>, than a stalled ox among the Philistines with + dulness.” + </p> + <p> + But about an hour after Griffith had taken his departure, as she was + bending over the table, industriously clipping at the merino, a thought + suddenly crossed her mind, which made her drop her scissors and look up + meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” she began, all at once. “Yes, it must be! How was it I did + not think of it when Grif was talking? I am sure, it was Gowan, Lady + Augusta said. To be sure it was. Mollie, this exploring nephew of the + Flynns is to partake of coffee and conversation with us at the Bilberrys' + on Friday, if I am not mistaken, and I never remembered it until now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES. + </h2> + <p> + A TOILET in Vagabondia was an event. Not an ordinary toilet, of course, + but a toilet extraordinary,—such as is necessarily called forth by + some festive gathering or unusual occasion. It was also an excitement + after a manner, and not a disagreeable one. It made demands upon the + inventive and creative powers of the whole family, and brought to light + hidden resources. It also aroused energy, and, being a success, was + rejoiced over as a brilliant success. Respectability might complacently + retire to its well-furnished chamber, and choose serenely from its + unlimited supply of figurative purple and legendary fine linen, without + finding a situation either dramatic or amusing; but in Vagabondia this was + not the case. Having contrived to conjure up, as it were, from the secret + places of the earth an evening dress, are not gloves still necessary? and, + being safe as regards gloves, do not the emergencies of the toilet call + for minor details seemingly unimportant, but still not to be done without? + Finding this to be the case, the household of Crewe rallied all its forces + upon such occasions, and set aside all domestic arrangements for the time + being. It was not impossible that Dolly should have prepared for a + rejoicing without the assistance of Mollie and Aimée, Mrs. Phil and Tod, + with occasional artistic suggestions from Phil and any particular friend + of the family who chanced to be below-stairs, within hearing distance. It + might not have appeared an impossibility, I should say, to ordinary + people, but the household of Crewe regarded it as such, and accordingly, + on the night of the Bilberry gathering, accompanied Dolly in a body to her + tiring-room. + </p> + <p> + Upon the bed lay the merino dress, white, modest, and untrimmed, save for + the swan's-down accompaniments, but fitting to a shade and exhibiting an + artistic sweep of train. + </p> + <p> + “It is a discreet sort of garment,” said Dolly, by way of comment; “and it + is 'suitable to our social position.' Do you remember when Lady Augusta + said that about my black alpaca, girls? Pleasant little observation, was + n't it? 'Toinette, I trust hair-pins are not injurious to infantile + digestive organs. If they are, perhaps it would be as well to convince Tod + that such is the case. What is the matter, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, leaning upon the dressing-table in her favorite attitude, was + looking rather discontented. She was looking very pretty, also, it might + be said. Her sleepy, warm brown eyes, being upraised to Dolly, showed + larger and warmer and browner than usual; the heavy brown locks, tumbling + down over her shoulders, caught a sort of brownish, coppery shade in the + flare of gas-light; there was a flush on her soft cheeks, and her ripe + lips were curved in a lovely dissatisfaction. Hence Dolly's remark. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was going,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + Dolly's eyes flew open wide, in a very sublimity of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Wish you were going?” she echoed. “To the Bilberrys'?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even there. I want to go somewhere. I think I should enjoy myself a + little anywhere. I should like to see the people, and hear them talk, and + find out what they do, and wear an evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly gazed at her in mingled pity and bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “you are very innocent; and I always knew you were + very innocent; but I did not know you were as innocent as this,—so + utterly free from human guile that you could imagine pleasure in a + Bilberry rejoicing. And I believe,” still regarding her with that + questioning pity, “—I believe you really <i>could</i>. I must keep + an eye on you, Mollie. You are too unsophisticated to be out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of her good-natured sympathy for the girl that it + should occur to her the next minute that perhaps it might please her to + see herself donned even in such modest finery as the white merino. She + understood her simple longings after unattainable glories so thoroughly, + and she was so ready to amuse her to the best of her ability. So she + suggested it. + </p> + <p> + “Put it on, Mollie,” she said, “and let us see how you would look in it. I + should like to see you in full dress.” + </p> + <p> + The child rose with some faint stir of interest in her manner and went to + the bed. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be long enough for me if it wasn't for the train,” she said; + “but the train will make it long enough nearly, and I can pull it together + at the waist.” + </p> + <p> + She put it on at the bedside, and then came forward to the toilet-table; + and Dolly, catching sight of her in the glass as she advanced, turned + round with a start. + </p> + <p> + Standing in the light; the soft heavy white folds draping themselves about + her statuesque curves of form as they might have draped themselves about + the limbs of some young marble Grace or Goddess, with her white arms and + shoulders uncovered, with her unchildish yet youthful face, with her + large-irised eyes, her flush of momentary pleasure and half awkwardness, + she was just a little dazzling, and Dolly did not hesitate to tell her so. + </p> + <p> + “You are a beauty, Mollie,” she said. “And you are a woman in that dress. + If you were only a Bilberry now, what a capital your face would be to you, + and what a belle you would be!” + </p> + <p> + Which remarks, if indiscreet, were affectionate, and made in perfect good + faith. + </p> + <p> + But when, having donned the merino herself, she made her way down the dark + staircase to the parlor, there was a vague ghost of uneasiness in her + mind, and it was the sight of Mollie in full dress which had aroused it. + </p> + <p> + “She is so very pretty,” she said to herself. “I scarcely knew how very + pretty she was until I turned round from the glass to look at her. What a + pity it is that we are not rich enough to do her justice, and let her + enjoy herself as other girls do. And—and,” with a little sigh, “I am + afraid we are a dreadfully careless lot. I wonder if Phil ever thinks + about it? And she is so innocent and ignorant too. I hope she won't fall + in love with anybody disreputable. I wish I knew how to take care of her.” + </p> + <p> + And yet when she went into the parlor to run the gauntlet of family + inspection, and walked across the floor to show the sweep of her train, + and tried her little opera hood on Tod before putting it on herself, a + casual observer would certainly have decided that she had never had a + serious thought in her life. Griffith was there, of course. At such times + his presence was considered absolutely necessary, and his admiration was + always unbounded. His portion it was to tuck her under his arm and lead + her out to the cab when the train and wraps were arranged and the hood put + on. This evening, when he had made her comfortable and shut the door, she + leaned out of the window at the last moment to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to tell you, Griffith,” she said, “Lady Augusta said something + about a Mr. Gowan to Mr. Bilberry the other day when she invited me. I + wonder if it is the Gowan you were telling me about? He is to be there + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” answered Griffith, with sudden discontent. “He is just + the sort of fellow the Bilberrys would lionize.” + </p> + <p> + It was rather incorrect of Dolly to feel, as she did, a sudden flash of + anticipation. She could not help it. This intense appreciation of a novel + or dramatic encounter with an eligible Philistine was her great weakness, + and she made no secret of it even with her lover, which was unwise if + frank. + </p> + <p> + She gave her fan a wicked flirt, and her eyes flashed as she did it. + </p> + <p> + “A mine of valuable information lies unexplored before me,” she said. “I + must make minute inquiries concerning the habits and peculiarities of the + people of the East. I shall take the lion in tow, and Lady Augusta's + happiness will be complete.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith turned pale—his conquering demon was jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Dolly,” he began. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly settled herself in her seat again, and waved her hand with an + air of extreme satisfaction. She did not mean to make him miserable, and + would have been filled with remorse if she had quite understood the extent + of the suffering she imposed upon him sometimes merely through her spirit, + and the daring onslaughts she made upon people for whom she cared little + or nothing. She understood his numerous other peculiarities pretty + thoroughly, but she did not understand his jealousy, for the simple reason + that she had never been jealous in her life. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the cabman to drive on,” she said, with a flourish. “There is balm + to be found even in Bilberry.” + </p> + <p> + And when the man drove on she composed herself comfortably in a corner of + the vehicle, in perfect unconsciousness of the fact that she had left a + thorn behind, rankling in the bosom of the poor fellow who watched her + from the pavement. + </p> + <p> + She was rather late, she found, on reaching her destination. The parlors + were full, and the more enterprising of the guests were beginning to group + themselves in twos and threes, and make spasmodic efforts at conversation. + But conversation at a Bilberry assemblage was rarely a success,—it + was so evident that to converse was a point of etiquette, and it was so + patent that conversation was expected from everybody, whether they had + anything to say or not. + </p> + <p> + Inoffensive individuals of retiring temperament, being introduced to each + other solemnly and with ceremony, felt that to be silent was to be guilty + of a glaring breach of Bilberry decorum, and, casting about in mental + agony for available remarks, found none, and were overwhelmed with amiable + confusion. Lady Augusta herself, in copper-colored silk of the most + unbending quality and make, was not conducive to cheerfulness. Yet Dolly's + first thought on catching sight of her this evening was a cheerful if + audacious one. + </p> + <p> + “She looks as if she was dressed in a boiler,” she commented, inwardly. “I + wonder if I shall ever live so long—I wonder if I ever <i>could</i> + live long enough to submit to a dress like that. And yet she seems to be + almost happy in the possession of it. But, I dare say, that is the result + of conscious virtue.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very fortunate thing for Dolly that she was not easily + discomposed. Most girls entering a room full of people, evidently + unemployed, and in consequence naturally prone to not too charitable + criticism of new-comers, might have lost self-possession. Not so Dolly + Crewe. Being announced, she came in neither with unnecessary hurry nor + timidly, and with not the least atom of shrinking from the eyes turned + toward her; and, simple and unassuming a young person as she appeared on + first sight, more than one pair of eyes in question found themselves + attracted by the white merino, the white shoulders, the elaborate tresses, + and the serene, innocent-looking orbs. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta advanced slightly to meet her, with a grewsome rustling of + copper-colored stiffness. She did not approve of Dolly at any time, but + she specially disapproved of her habit of setting time at defiance and + ignoring the consequences. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see you,” she said, with the air of a potentate issuing + a proclamation. “I <i>thought</i>”—somewhat severely—"that you + were not coming at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” remarked Dolly, with tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned her ladyship. “And I could not understand it. It is nine + o'clock now, and I <i>believe</i> I mentioned eight as the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you did,” said Dolly, unfurling her small downy fan, and using + it with much serene grace; “but I wasn't ready at eight. I hope you are + very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied her ladyship, icily. “I am very well. Will you go and + take a seat by Euphemia? I allowed her to come into the room to-night, and + I notice that her manner is not so self-possessed as I should wish.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly gave a little nod of acquiescence, and looked across the room to + where the luckless Euphemia sat edged in a corner behind a row of + painfully conversational elderly gentlemen, who were struggling with the + best intentions to keep up a theological discourse with the Rev. + Marmaduke. Euphemia was the eldest Miss Bilberry. She was overgrown and + angular, and suffered from chronic embarrassment, which was not alleviated + by the eye of her maternal parent being upon her. She was one of Dolly's + pupils, and cherished a secret but enthusiastic admiration for her. And, + upon the whole, Dolly was fond of the girl. She was good-natured and + unsophisticated, and bore the consciousness of her physical and mental + imperfections with a humility which was almost touching to her friend + sometimes. Catching Dolly's eye on this occasion, she glanced at her + imploringly, and then, catching the eye of her mother, blushed to the tips + of her ears, and relapsed into secret anguish of mind. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly, recognizing her misery, smiled reassuringly, and made her way + across the room to her, insinuating herself through the theological + phalanx. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you are here at last,” said the girl. “I was so afraid you + would n't come. And oh, how nice you look, and how beautifully you manage + your train! I could never do it in the world. I should be sure to tumble + over it. But nothing ever seems to trouble you at all. You haven't any + idea how lovely you were when you went across the room to mamma. Everybody + looked at you, and I don't wonder at it.” + </p> + <p> + “They would have looked at anybody,” answered Dolly, laughing. “They had + nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite true, poor things,” sighed Euphemia, sympathetically. “You + don't know the worst yet, either. You don't know how stupid they are and + can be, Dolly. That old gentleman near the screen has not spoken one word + yet, and he keeps sighing and wiping the top of his bald head with his + pocket-handkerchief until I can't keep my eyes off him, and I am afraid he + has noticed me. I don't mean any harm, I'm sure, but I have got nothing to + do myself, and I can't help it. But what I was going to say was, that + people looked at you as they did not look at others who came in. You seem + different some way. And I'm sure that Mr. Gowan of mamma's has been + staring at you until it is positively rude of him.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's slowly moving fan became stationary for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said. “Who is Mr. Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + “One of mamma's people,” answered Euphemia, “though I'm sure I can't quite + understand how he can be one of them. He looks so different from the rest. + He is very rich, you know, and very aristocratic, and has travelled a + great deal He has been all over the world, they say. There he is at that + side-table.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's eyes, travelling round the assemblage with complacent + indifference, rested at last on the side-table where the subject of + Euphemia's remarks sat. + </p> + <p> + He really was an eligible Philistine, it seemed, despite Griffith's + unflattering description of him. + </p> + <p> + He was a long-limbed, graceful man, with an aquiline face and superb eyes, + which at this moment were resting complacently upon Dolly herself. It was + not exactly admiration, either, which they expressed, it was something of + a more entertaining nature, at least so Dolly found it,—it was + nothing more nor less than a slowly awakening interest in her which paid + her the compliment of rising above the surface of evident boredom and + overcoming lassitude. It looked as if he was just beginning to study her, + and found the game worth the candle. Dolly met his glance with steadiness, + and as she met it she measured him. Then she turned to Euphemia again and + fluttered the fan slowly and serenely. + </p> + <p> + “He's nice, is n't he?” commented the guileless Phemie. “If the rest of + them were like him, I don't think we should be so stupid, but as it is, + you know, he can't talk when there is nobody to talk to.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dolly. “One could hardly expect it of him. But I wonder why he + does not say something to that thin lady in the dress-cap.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Phemie, “I don't wonder in the least. That is Miss + Berenice MacDowlas, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Berenice MacDowlas!” echoed Dolly, with a start. “You don't say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Euphemia. “Do you know her? You spoke as if you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—yes—no,” answered Dolly, with a half laugh. “I should + say I know somebody who does.” + </p> + <p> + And she looked as if she was rather enjoying some small joke of her own. + The fact was that Miss MacDowlas was no other than Griffith's amiable + aunt. But, of course, it would not have done to tell this to Euphemia + Bilberry. Euphemia's ideas on the subject of the tender passion were as + yet crude and unformed, and Dolly Crewe was not prone to sentimental + confidences, so, as yet, Euphemia and indeed the whole Bilberry family, + remained in blissful ignorance of the very existence of such a person as + Mr. Griffith Donne. + </p> + <p> + If personal appearance was to be relied upon, Miss MacDowlas was not a + promising subject for diplomatic beguiling. + </p> + <p> + “We have no need to depend upon her,” was Dolly's mental decision. “One + glimpse of life in Vagabondia would end poor Griffith's chances with her. + I wonder what she would think if she could see Tod in all his glory when + 'Toinette and Phil are busy painting.” + </p> + <p> + And her vivid recollection of the personal adornments of Tod at such times + brought a smile to her lips. + </p> + <p> + She made herself very comfortable in her corner, and, exerting herself to + her utmost to alleviate Euphemia's sufferings, succeeded so far that the + girl forgot everything else but her enjoyment of her friend's caustic + speeches and satirical little jokes. Dolly was not afraid of results, and, + standing in due awe of public opinion, gave herself up to the encouraging + of any shadow of amusement quite heartily. She was so entertaining in a + small way upon this occasion, that Euphemia's frame of mind became in some + degree ecstatic. From her place of state across the room, Lady Augusta + regarded them with disapproval. It was so very evident that they were + enjoying themselves, and that this shocking Dorothea Crewe was not to be + suppressed. (Dorothea, be it known, was Dolly's baptismal name, and Lady + Augusta held to its full pronunciation as a matter of duty.) It was + useless, however, to disapprove. Behind the theological phalanx Dolly sat + enthroned plainly in the best of spirits, and in rather a dangerous mood, + to judge from outward appearances. There was nothing of the poor relation + about her at least. The little snowy fan was being manipulated gracefully + and with occasional artistic nourishes, her enjoyable roulades of laughter + tinkled audaciously, her white shoulders were expressive, her gestures + charming, and, above all, people were beginning to look at her admiringly, + if not with absolute envy. Something must be done. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta moved across the room, piloting her way between people on + ottomans and people on chairs, rustling with awe-inspiring majesty; and, + reaching the corner at last, she spoke to the daring Dolly over the heads + of the phalanx. + </p> + <p> + “Dorothea,” she said, “we should like a little music.” + </p> + <p> + This she had expected would be a move which could not fail to set the + young person in her right place. It would show her that her time was not + her own, and that she was expected to make herself useful; and it would + also set to rights any little mistake lookers-on might have previously + labored under as to her position. But even this did not destroy Dolly's + equanimity. She finished the small joke she had been making to Phemie, and + then turned to her august relative with a sweet but trying smile. + </p> + <p> + “Music?” she said. “Certainly.” And arose at once. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Augusta saw her mistake. It was only another chance for Miss + Dolly to display herself to advantage, after all. When she arose from her + seat in the corner, and gave a glance of inspection to her train over her + bare white shoulder, people began to look at her again; and when she + crossed the room, she was an actual Sensation,—and to create a + sensation in the Bilberry parlors was to attain a triumph. Worse than + this, also, as her ladyship passed the bald-headed individual by the + screen, that gentleman—who was a lion as regarded worldly + possessions—condescended to make his first remark for the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty girl, that,” he said. “Nice girl,—fine figure. Relative?” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter's governess, sir,” replied her ladyship, rigidly. + </p> + <p> + And in Dolly's passage across the room another incident occurred which was + not lost upon the head of the house of Bilberry. Near the seat of Mr. + Ralph Gowan stood a vacated chair, which obstructed the passage to the + piano, and, observing it, the gentleman in question rose and removed it, + bowing obsequiously in reply to Dolly's slight gesture of thanks, and when + she took her place at the instrument he moved to a seat near by, and + settled himself to listen with the air of a man who expected to enjoy the + performance. + </p> + <p> + And he evidently did enjoy it, for a very pleasant little performance it + was. The songs had a thrill of either pathos or piquancy in every word and + note, and the audience found they were listening in spite of themselves. + </p> + <p> + When they were ended, Ralph Gowan sought out Lady Augusta in her + stronghold, and placidly proposed being introduced to her young guest; and + since it was evident that he intended to leave her no alternative, her + ladyship was fain to comply; and so, before half the evening was over, + Dolly found herself being entertained as she had never been entertained + before in the camps of the Philistines at least. And as to the Eastern + explorer, boredom was forgotten for the time, and he gave himself up + entirely to the amusing and enjoying of this piquant young person with the + white shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Crewe,” he said to her during the course of their first conversation. “I + am sure Lady Augusta said 'Crewe.' Then you are relatives, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor relations,” answered Dolly, coolly, and without a shadow of + discomfiture. “I am the children's governess. Trying, is n't it?” + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan met the gaze of the bright eyes admiringly. Even at this early + period of their acquaintance he was falling into the snare every other man + fell into,—the snare of finding that Dolly Crewe was startlingly + unlike anybody else. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the children,” he said. “Under such circumstances education must + necessarily acquire a new charm.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + When supper was announced, Lady Augusta made another attack and was foiled + again. She came to their corner, and, bending over Dolly, spoke to her in + stage-whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I will bring young Mr. Jessup to take you into the supper-room, + Dorothea,” she said. + </p> + <p> + But Dolly's plans were already arranged, and even if such had not been the + case she would scarcely have rejoiced at the prospect of the escort of + young Mr. Jessup, who was a mild young idiot engaged in the study of + theology. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lady Augusta,” she said, cheerfully, “but I have promised Mr. + Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + And Lady Augusta had the pleasure of seeing her leave the room a minute + later, with her small glove slipped through Ralph Gowan's arm, and the + plainly delighted face of that gentleman inclined attentively toward the + elaborate Frenchy coiffure. + </p> + <p> + At the supper-table little Miss Crewe was a prominent feature. At her end + of the table conversation flourished and cheerfulness reigned. Even + Euphemia and young Mr. Jessup, who had come down together in a mutual + agony of embarrassment, began to pluck up spirit and hazard occasional + remarks, and finally even joined in the laughter at Dolly's witticism. + </p> + <p> + People lower down the table glanced up across the various dishes, and + envied the group who seemed to set the general heaviness and discontent at + defiance. + </p> + <p> + Dolly, accompanied by coffee and cakes, was more at home and more + delightful than ever, so delightful, indeed, that Ralph Gowan began to + regard even Lady Augusta with gratitude, since it was to her he was, to + some extent, indebted for his new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “She is a delightful—yes, a delightful girl!” exclaimed young Mr. + Jessup, confidentially addressing-Euphemia, and blushing vividly at his + own boldness. “I never heard such a laugh as she has in my life. It is + actually exhilarating. It quite raises one's spirits,” with mild <i>naïveté</i>. + </p> + <p> + Euphemia began to brighten at once. She could talk about Dolly Crewe if + she could talk about nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you have n't seen <i>anything</i> of her yet,” she said, in a + burst of enthusiasm. “If you could only see her every day, as I do, and + hear the witty things she says, and see how self-possessed she is, when + other people would be perfectly miserable with confusion, there would be + no wonder at your saying you never saw anybody like her. <i>I</i> never + did, I am sure. And then, you know, somehow or other, she always looks so + well in everything she wears,—even in the shabbiest things, and her + things are nearly always shabby enough, for they are dreadfully poor. She + is always finding new ways of wearing things or new ways of doing her hair + or—or something. It is the way her dresses fit, I think. Oh, dear, + how I do wish the dressmaker could make mine fit as hers do! Just look at + that white merino, now, for instance. It is the plainest dress in the + room, and there is not a bit of fuss or trimming about it, and yet see how + soft the folds look and how it hangs,—the train, you know. It + reminds me of a picture,—one of those pictures in fashionable + monthlies,—illustrations of love stories, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very pretty dress,” said young Mr. Jessup, eying it with great + interest. “What did you say the stuff was called?” + </p> + <p> + “Merino,” answered Phemie. + </p> + <p> + “Merino,” repeated Mr. Jessup. “I will try and remember. I should like my + sister Lucinda Maria to have a dress like it.” + </p> + <p> + And he regarded it with growing admiration just tempered by the effect of + a mental picture of Lucinda Maria, who was bony and of remarkable + proportions, attired in its soft and flowing counterpart, with white + swan's-down adorning her bare shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” said Miss MacDowlas, at the bottom of the table, to Lady + Augusta,—"may I ask who that young lady with the fresh completion + is,—the young lady in white at the other end?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my governess,” replied her ladyship, freezingly. “Miss Dorothea + Crewe.” + </p> + <p> + And Miss MacDowlas settled her eye-glass and gave Miss Dorothea Crewe the + benefit of a prolonged examination. + </p> + <p> + “Crewe,” she said, at length. “Poor relation, I suppose?” with some + sharpness of manner. Dignity was lost upon Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “A branch of my family who are no great credit to it,” was the majestic + rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed,” was the lady's sole remark, and then Miss MacDowlas returned + to her coffee, still, however, keeping her double eye-glass across her + nose and casting an occasional glance at Dolly. + </p> + <p> + And just at this particular moment Dolly was unconsciously sealing Ralph + Gowan's fate for him. Quite unconsciously, I repeat, for the most serious + of Dolly's iniquities were generally unconscious. When she flirted, her + flirtations were of so frank and open a nature, that, bewildered and + fascinated though her victims might be, they must have been blind indeed + to have been deceived, and so there were those who survived them and left + the field safe, though somewhat sore at heart. But when she was in her + honest, earnest, life-enjoying moods, and meant no harm,—when she + was simply enjoying herself and trying to amuse her masculine companion, + when her gestures were unconscious and her speeches unstudied, when she + laughed through sheer merriment and was charmingly theatrical because she + could not help it and because little bits of pathos and comedy were + natural to her at times, then it was that the danger became deadly; then + it was that her admirers were regardless of consequences, and defied + results. And she was in just such a mood to-night. + </p> + <p> + “Come and see us?” she was saying. “Of course you may; and if you come, + you shall have an insight into the domestic workings of modern Vagabondia. + You shall be introduced to half a dozen people who toil not, neither do + they spin successfully, for their toiling and spinning seems to have + little result, after all. You shall see shabbiness and the spice of life + hand-in-hand; and, I dare say, you will find that the figurative dinner of + herbs is not utterly destitute of a flavor of <i>piquancy</i>. You shall + see people who enjoy themselves in sheer defiance of circumstances, and + who find a pathos in every-day events, which, in the camps of the + Philistines, mean nothing. Yes, you may come if you care to.” And Ralph + Gowan, looking down at the changeful eyes, saw an almost tender light + shining in their depths,—summoned up all at once perhaps by one of + those inexplicable touches of pathos of which she had spoken. + </p> + <p> + But even coffee and conversation must come to an end at last, and so the + end of this evening came. People began to drop away one by one, bidding + their hostess good-night with the air of individuals who had performed a + duty, and were relieved to find it performed and disposed of for the time + being. So Dolly, leaving her companion with a bright farewell, and amiably + disposing of Lady Augusta, slipped up-stairs to the retiring-room for her + wraps. In the course of three minutes she came down again, the scarlet + shawl draped around her, and the highly ornamental hood donned. She was of + so little consequence in the Bilberry household that no one met her when + she reappeared. Even the servants knew that her convenience or + inconvenience was of small moment, so the task of summoning her cab would + have devolved upon herself, had it not been for a little incident, which + might have been either an accident or otherwise. As she came down the + staircase a gentleman crossed the threshold of the parlor and came to meet + her,—and this gentleman was no other than Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have the pleasure of putting you into your—” + </p> + <p> + “Cab,” ended Dolly, with a trill of a laugh,—it was so evident that + he had been going to say “carriage.” “Thank you, with the greatest of + pleasure. Indeed, it is rather a relief to me, for they generally keep me + waiting. And I detest waiting.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her into her seat, and lingered to see that she was comfortable, + perhaps with unnecessary caution; and then, when she gave him her hand + through the window, he held it for a moment longer than was exactly called + for by the exigencies of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “You will not forget that you have given me permission to call,” he said, + hesitating slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no!” she answered. “I shall not forget. We are always glad to + see people—in Vagabondia.” + </p> + <p> + And as the cab drove off, she waved the hand he had held in an airy + gesture of adieu, gave him a bewildering farewell nod, and, withdrawing + her face from the window, disappeared in the shadow within. + </p> + <p> + “Great Jove!” meditated Ralph Gowan, when he had seen the last of her. + “And this is a nursery governess,—a sort of escape-valve for the + spleen and ill moods of that woman in copper-color. She teaches them + French and music, I dare say, and makes those spicy little jokes of hers + over the dog-eared arithmetic. Ah, well! such is impartial Fortune,” And + he strolled back into the house again, to make his adieus to Lady Augusta, + with the bewitching Greuze face fresh in his memory. + </p> + <p> + But, for her part, Dolly, having left him behind in the Philistine camp, + was nestling comfortably in the dark corner of her cab, thinking of + Griffith, as she always did think of him when she found herself alone for + a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he will be at home when I get there,” she said. “Poor fellow! + he would find it dull enough without me, unless they were all in unusually + good spirits. I wonder if the time ever will come when we shall have a + little house of our own, and can go out together or stay at home, just as + we like.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID. + </h2> + <p> + “After a holiday comes a rest day.” The astuteness of this proverb + continually proved itself in Vagabondia, and this was more particularly + the case when the holiday had been Dolly's, inasmuch as Dolly was + invariably called upon to “fight her battles o'er again,” and recount her + experiences the day following a visit, for the delectation of the + household. Had there appeared in the camps a Philistine of notoriety, then + that Philistine must play his or her part again through the medium of + Dolly's own inimitable powers of description or representation; had any + little scene occurred possessing a spice of flavoring, or illustrating any + Philistine peculiarity, then Dolly was quite equal to the task of putting + it upon the family stage, and re-enacting it with iniquitous seasonings + and additions of her own. And yet the fun was never of an ill-natured + sort. When Dolly gave them a correct embodiment of Lady Augusta in + reception of her guests, with an accurate description of the “great + Copper-Boiler costume,” the bursts of applause meant nothing more than + that Dolly's imitative gifts were in good condition, and that the “great + Copper-Boiler costume” was a success. Then, the feminine mind being keenly + alive to an interest in earthly vanities, an enlargement on Philistine + adornments was considered necessary, and Dolly always rendered herself + popular by a minute description of the reigning fashions, as displayed by + the Bilberry element. She found herself quite repaid for the trouble of + going into detail, by the unsophisticated pleasure in Mollie's eyes alone, + for to Mollie outward furnishings seemed more than worthy of description + and discussion. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, the morning after Lady Augusta's <i>conversazione</i>, Dolly + gave herself up to the task of enlivening the household. It was Saturday + morning, fortunately, and on Saturday her visits to the Bilberry mansion + were dispensed with, so she was quite at liberty to seat herself by the + fire, with Tod in her arms, and recount the events of the evening. Somehow + or other, she had almost regarded him as a special charge from the first. + She had always been a favorite with him, as she was a favorite with most + children. She was just as natural and thoroughly at home with Tod in her + arms, or clambering over her feet, or clutching at the trimmings of her + dress, as she was under any other circumstances; and when on this occasion + Griffith came in at noon to hear the news, and found her kneeling upon the + carpet with outstretched hands teaching the pretty little tottering fellow + to walk, he felt her simply irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “Come to Aunt Dolly,” she was saying. “Tod, come to Aunt Dolly.” And then + she looked up laughing. “Look at him, Griffith,” she said. “He has walked + all the way from that arm-chair.” And then she made a rush at the child, + and caught him in her arms with a little whirl, and jumped up with such a + light-hearted enjoyment of the whole affair that it was positively + exciting to look at her. + </p> + <p> + It was quite natural—indeed, it would have been quite unnatural if + she had not found her usual abiding-place in her lover's encircling arm at + once, even with Tod conveniently established on one of her own, and + evidently regarding his own proximity upon such an occasion as remarkable + if nothing else. That arm of Griffith's usually <i>did</i> slip around her + waist even at the most ordinary times, and long use had so accustomed + Dolly to the habit that she would have experienced some slight feeling of + astonishment if the familiarity had been omitted. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a surprise to the young man to find that Miss MacDowlas had + appeared upon the scene, and that she had partaken of coffee and + conversation in the flesh the evening before. + </p> + <p> + “But it's just like her,” he said. “She is the sort of relative who always + <i>does</i> turn up unexpectedly, Dolly. How does she look?” + </p> + <p> + “Juvenescent,” said Dolly; “depressingly so to persons who rely upon her + for the realizing of expectations. A very few minutes satisfied me that I + should never become Mrs. Griffith Donne upon <i>her</i> money. It is a + very fortunate thing for us that we are of Vagabondian antecedents, + Griffith,—just see how we might trouble ourselves, and wear our + patience out over Miss MacDowlas, if we troubled ourselves about anything. + This being utterly free from the care of worldly possessions makes one + touchingly disinterested. Since we have nothing to expect, we are + perfectly willing to wait until we get it.” + </p> + <p> + She had thought so little about Ralph Gowan,—once losing sight of + him, as he stood watching her on the pavement, that in discussing other + subjects she had forgotten to mention him, and it was only Mollie's + entrance into the room that brought him upon the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Coming in, with her hair bunched up in a lovely, disorderly knot, and the + dimple on her left cheek artistically accentuated by a small patch of + black, the youngest Miss Crewe yet appeared to advantage, when, after + appropriating Tod, she slipped down into a sitting posture with him on the + carpet, in the midst of the amplitude of folds of Lady Augusta's once + gorgeous wrapper. + </p> + <p> + “Have you told him about the great Copper-Boiler costume, Dolly?” she + said, bending down so that one brown tress hung swaying before Tod's eyes. + “Has she, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Griffith, looking at her with a vague sense of admiration. + He shared all Dolly's enthusiasm on the subject of Mollie's prettiness. + </p> + <p> + “Was n't it good? I wish I was as cool as Dolly is. And poor Phemie—and + the gentleman who made love to you all the evening, Dolly. What was his + name? Was n't it Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + Griffith's eyes turned toward Dolly that instant. + </p> + <p> + “Gowan!” he exclaimed. “You didn't say anything about him. You didn't even + say he was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Did n't she?” said Mollie, looking up with innocently wide-open eyes. + “Why, he made love to her all—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would n't talk such rubbish, Mollie,” Dolly interrupted her—a + trifle sharply because she understood the cloud on her lover's face so + well. “Who said Mr. Gowan made love to me? Not I, you may be sure. I told + you he talked to me, and that was all.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not tell <i>me</i> that much,” said Griffith, dryly. + </p> + <p> + It would scarcely have been human nature for Dolly not to have fired a + little then, in spite of herself. She was constitutionally good-natured, + but she was not seraphic, and her lover's rather excusable jealousy was + specially hard to bear, when, as upon this occasion, it had no real + foundation. + </p> + <p> + “I did not think it necessary,” she said; “and, besides, I forgot; but if + you wish to know the particulars,” with a stiff little air of dignity, “I + can give them you. Mr. Gowan was there, and found the evening stupid, as + every one else did. There was no one else to talk to, so he talked to me, + and when I came home he put me into the cab. And, the fact is, he is a + good-natured Philistine enough. That is all, I believe, unless you would + like me to try to record all he said.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” answered Griffith, and instantly began to torture himself + with imagining what he really had said, making the very natural mistake of + imagining what he would have said himself, and then giving Ralph Gowan + credit for having perpetrated like tender gallantries. He never could + divest himself of the idea that every living man found Dolly as entrancing + as he found her himself. It could only be one man's bitter-sweet portion + to be as desperately and inconsolably in love with her as he was himself, + and no other than himself, or a man who might be his exact prototype, + could have cherished a love at once so strong and so weak. There had been + other men who had loved Dolly Crewe,—-adored her for a while, in + fact, and imagined themselves wretches because they had been unsuccessful; + but they had generally outlived their despair, and their adoration, + cooling for want of sustenance, had usually settled down into a + comfortable admiring liking for the cause of their misery, but it would + never have been so with Griffith. This ordinary, hard-working, ill-paid + young man had passionate impulse and hidden power of suffering enough in + his restive nature to make a broken hope a broken life to him. His + long-cherished love for the shabbily attired, often-snubbed, dauntless + young person yclept Dorothea Crewe was the mainspring of his existence. He + would have done daring deeds of valor for her sake, if circumstances had + called upon him to comport himself in such tragic manner; had he been a + knight of olden time, he would just have been the chivalrous, hotheaded, + but affectionate young man to have entered the lists in his love's behalf, + and tilted against tremendous odds, and died unvanquished; but living in + the nineteenth century, his impetuosity, being necessarily restrained, + became concentrated upon one point, and chafed him terribly at times. + Without Dolly, he would have been without an object in life; with Dolly, + he was willing to face any amount of discouragement and misfortune; and at + this stage of his affection—after years of belief in that far-off + blissful future—to lose her would have brought him wreck and ruin. + </p> + <p> + So when Dolly, in the full consciousness of present freedom from iniquity, + withdrew herself from his encircling arm and turned her attention to Tod + and Mollie, he was far more wretched than he had any right to be, and + stood watching them, and gnawing his slender mustache, gloomy and + distrustful. + </p> + <p> + But this could not last long, of course. They might quarrel, but they + always made friends; and when in a short time Mollie, doubtless feeling + herself a trifle in the way, left the room with the child, Dolly's + impulsive warm-heartedness got the better of her upon this occasion as + upon all others. + </p> + <p> + She came back to her lover's side and laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us quarrel about Ralph Gowan, Griffith,” she said. “It was my + fault; I ought to have told you.” + </p> + <p> + He fairly crushed her in his remorseful embrace almost before she had + finished her appeal. His distrust of her was as easily overcome as it was + roused; one touch of her hand, one suspicion of a tremor in her voice, + always conquered him and reduced him to penitent submission. + </p> + <p> + “You are an angel,” he said, “and I am an unfeeling clod. No other woman + would bear with me as you do. God bless you, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She nestled within his arms and took his caresses almost gratefully. + Perhaps it would have been wiser to have shown him how deep a sting his + want of faith gave her sometimes, but she was always so glad when their + misunderstandings were at an end, that she would not have so revenged + herself upon him for the world. The cool, audacious self she exhibited in + the camps of the Philistines was never shown to Griffith; in her + intercourse with him she was only a slightly intensified edition of the + child he had fallen in love with years before,—a bright, + quick-witted child, with a deep nature and an immense faculty for loving + and clinging to people. Dolly at twenty-two was pretty much what she had + been at fifteen, when they had quarrelled and made up again, loved each + other and romanced over the future brilliancy of prospect which now seemed + just as far off as ever. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes after the clearing away of the temporary cloud, they were + in a seventh heaven of bliss, as usual. In some of his wanderings about + town, Griffith had met with a modest house, which would have been the very + thing for them if they had possessed about double the income of which they + were at present in receipt. He often met with houses of this kind; they + seemed, in fact, to present themselves to his longing vision every week of + his life; and I think it rather to his credit to mention that he never + failed to describe them to Dolly, and enlarge upon their merits with much + eloquence. Furniture warehouses also were a source of some simple pleasure + to them. <i>If</i> they possessed the income (not that they had the + remotest prospect of possessing it), and rented the house, naturally they + would require furniture, and it was encouraging to know that the necessary + articles might be bought <i>if</i> the money was forthcoming. Consequently + a low-priced table or a cheap sofa was a consolation, if not a source of + rejoicing, and their happiest hours were spent in counting the cost of + parlor carpets never to be purchased, and window curtains of thin air. + They even economized sternly in minor matters, and debated the expenditure + of an extra shilling as closely as if it had been a matter entailing the + deepest anxiety; and on the whole, perhaps, practical persons might have + condemned their affectionate, hopeful weakness as childish and + nonsensical, but they were happy in the indulgence of it, at all events, + and surely they might have been engaged in a less tender and more worldly + pastime. There were other people, perhaps, weak and imprudent themselves + it may be, who would have seen a touch of simple pathos in this + unconsciously shown faith in Fortune and her not too kindly moods. + </p> + <p> + “Old Flynn ought to raise my salary, you know, Dolly,” said Griffith. “I + work hard enough for him, confound him!” somewhat irrelevantly, but with + laudable and not unamiable vigor. He meant no harm to “Old Flynn;” he + would have done a good-natured thing for him at any moment, the mild + expletive was simply the result of adopted custom. “There is n't a fellow + in the place who does as much as I do. I worked from seven in the morning + till midnight every day last week, and I wrote half his editorials for + him, and nobody knows he does n't get them up himself. If he would only + give me two hundred instead of one, just see how we could live.” + </p> + <p> + “We could live on a hundred and fifty,” put in Dolly, with an air of + practical speculation which did her credit, “if we were economical.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say a hundred and fifty, then,” returned Griffith, quite as + seriously, “for we should be economical. Say a hundred and fifty. It would + be nothing to him,—confound him!—but it would be everything in + the world to us. That house in the suburbs was only thirty pounds, taxes + and all, and it was just the very thing we should want if we were + married.” + </p> + <p> + “How many rooms?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Six, and kitchen and cupboards and all that sort of contrivances. I asked + particularly—went to see the landlord to inquire and see what + repairing he would do if we wanted the place. There is a garden of a few + yards in the front, too, and one or two rose-bushes. I don't know whether + they ever bloom, but if they do, you could wear them in your hair. I + thought of that the minute I saw them. The first time I saw you, Dolly, + you had a rose in your hair, and I remember thinking I had never seen a + flower worn in the same way. Other girls do n't wear things as you wear + them somehow or other.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a coaxing, patronizing + little squeeze of his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You think they don't,” she said, “you affectionate old fellow, that is + it. Well, and what did the landlord say? Would he beautify?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I think he would if the matter was pressed,” said Griffith, + returning to the subject with a vigor of enjoyment inspiriting to behold. + “And, by the way, Dolly, I saw a small sofa at a place in town which was + just the right size to fit into a sort of alcove there is in the front + parlor.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you inquire the price?” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—no,” cheerfully; “but I can, if you would like to know it. You + see, I had n't any money, and did n't know when I should have any, and I + felt rather discouraged at the time, and I had an idea the price would + make me feel worse, so I did not go in. But it was a comfortable, plump + little affair, covered with green,—the sort of thing I should like + to have in our house, when we have one. It would be so comfortable to + throw one's self down on to after a hard day's work, particularly if one + had a headache.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly; and then, half unconsciously and quite in spite of + herself, the ghost of a sigh escaped her. She could not help wishing + things were a trifle more real sometimes, bright and whimsically unworldly + as she was. + </p> + <p> + “What did that mean?” Griffith asked her. + </p> + <p> + She wakened up, as it were, and looked as happy as ever in an instant, + creeping a trifle closer to him in her loving anxiety to blind him to the + presence of the little pain in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said, briskly. And then—"We don't want much, do we, + Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Griffith, a certain grim sense of humor getting the better of + him. “And we have n't got it.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed outright at the joke quite enjoyably. Even the grimmest of + jocosities wins its measure of respect in Vagabondia, and besides, her + laugh removed the impression her sigh might have created. She was herself + again at once. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” she said. (It was always “never mind.”) “Never mind, it will + all come right in the end. Humble merit <i>must</i> be rewarded, and if + humble merit isn't, we can only console ourselves with the reasonable + reflection that there must be something radically wrong with the state of + society. Who knows whether you may not 'get into something,' as Phil says, + which may be twenty times better than anything Old Flynn can give you!” + with characteristic Vagabondian hopefulness. + </p> + <p> + Just at this juncture Phil himself entered, or, rather, half entered, for + he only put his head—a comely, curled head surmounted by a + disreputable velvet cap—half into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are here, are you?” he said. “You are the fellow I want. I am + just touching up something I want to show you. Come into the studio for a + minute or so, Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that picture Mollie sat for,” he explained, as they followed him + into the big, barren room, dignified by the name of studio. “I have just + finished it.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie was standing before the picture herself when they went in to look + at it, but she did not turn round on hearing them. She had Tod in her arms + yet, but she seemed to have forgotten his very existence in her + preoccupation. And it was scarcely to be wondered at. The picture was only + a head,—Mollie's own fresh, drowsy-eyed face standing out in + contrast under some folds of dark drapery thrown over the brown hair like + a monk's cowl, two or three autumn-tinted oak leaves clinging to a + straying tress,—but it was effective and novel enough to be a trifle + startling. And Mollie was looking at it with a growing shadow of pleasure + in her expression. She was slowly awakening to a sense of its beauty, and + she was by no means dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “It is lovely!” Dolly cried out, enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Griffith. “And as like her as art can make it. It's a + success, Phil.” + </p> + <p> + Phil stepped back with a critical air to give it a new inspection. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a success,” he said. “Just give me a chance to get it hung + well, and it will draw a crowd next season. You shall have a new dress if + it does, Mollie, and you shall choose it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie roused herself for a moment, and lighted up. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” she said; and then all at once she blushed in a way that made + Dolly stare at her in some wonder. It seemed queer to think that Mollie—careless + child Mollie—was woman enough to blush over anything. + </p> + <p> + And then Aimée and 'Toinette came in, and looked on and admired just as + openly and heartily as the rest, only Aimée was rather the more reticent + of the two, and cast furtive glances at Mollie now and then. But Mollie + was in a new mood, and had very little to say; and half an hour after, + when her elder sister went into the family sitting-room, she found her + curled up in an easy-chair by the fire, looking reflective. Dolly went to + the hearth and stood near her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking about?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mollie stirred uneasily, and half blushed again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do,” contradicted Dolly, good-naturedly. “Are you thinking that + it is a pleasant sort of a thing to be handsome enough to be made a + picture of, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + The brown eyes met hers with an innocent sort of deprecating + consciousness. “I—I never thought about myself in that way before,” + admitted Mollie, naively. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” returned Dolly, quite sincerely, “you must have looked in the + glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” with a slow shake of the head; “but it did n't look the same way + in the glass,—it did n't look as nice.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly regarded her with a surprise which was not unmingled with + affectionate pity. She was not as unsophisticated as Mollie, and never had + been. As the feminine head of the family, she had acquired a certain + shrewdness early in life, and had taken a place in the household the rest + were hardly equal to. There had been no such awakening as this for her. At + fourteen, she had been fully and complacently conscious of the exact + status of her charms and abilities, physical and mental. She had neither + under-nor over-rated them. She had smiled back at her reflection in her + mirror, showing two rows of little milk-white teeth, and being well enough + satisfied with being a charming young person with a secure complexion and + enviable self-poise. She understood herself, and attained perfection in + the art of understanding others. Her rather sharp experience had not + allowed <i>her</i> to look in the glass in guileless ignorance of what she + saw there, and perhaps this made her all the fonder of Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a dress are you going to choose if Phil buys you one?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Maroon,” answered Mollie. “Oh!” with a little shuddering breath of + desperate delight, “how I wish I could have a maroon silk!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shook her head doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be serviceable, because you could only have the one, and you + could n't wear it on wet days,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I should n't care about its being serviceable,” burst forth innocent + Vagabondia, rebelling against the trammels of prudence. “I want something + pretty. I do so detest serviceable things. I would stay in the house all + the wet days if I might have a maroon silk to wear when it was fine.” + </p> + <p> + “She is beginning to long for purple and fine linen,” sighed Dolly, as she + ran up to her bedroom afterward. “The saints forefend! It is a bad sign. + She will fall in love the next thing. Poor, indiscreet little damsel!” + </p> + <p> + But, despite her sage lamentations, there was even at that moment a plan + maturing in her mind which was an inconsistent mixture of Vagabondia's + goodnature and whim. Mollie's fancy for the maroon silk had struck her as + being artistic, and there was not a Crewe among them who had not a + weakness for the artistic in effect. Tod himself was imaginatively + supposed to share it and exhibit preternatural intelligence upon the + subject. In Dolly it amounted to a passion which she found it impossible + to resist. By it she was prompted to divers small extravagances at times, + and by it she was assisted in the arranging of all her personal + adornments. It was impossible to slight the mental picture of Mollie with + maroon drapery falling about her feet, with her cheeks tinted with excited + color, and with that marvel of delight in her eyes. She could not help + thinking about it. + </p> + <p> + “She would be simply incomparable,” she found herself soliloquizing. “Just + give her that dress, put a white flower in her hair and set her down in a + ballroom, or in the dress circle of a theatre, and she would set the whole + place astir. Oh, she must have it.” + </p> + <p> + It was very foolish and extravagant of course; even the people who are + weakly tolerant enough to rather lean toward Dorothea Crewe, will admit + this. The money that would purchase the maroon garment would have + purchased a dozen minor articles far more necessary to the dilapidated + household; but while straining at such domestic gnats as these articles + were, she was quite willing and even a trifle anxious to swallow Mollie's + gorgeous camel. Such impulsive inconsistency was characteristic, however, + and she betook herself to her bedroom with the intention of working out + the problem of accommodating supply to demand. + </p> + <p> + She took out her purse and emptied its contents on to her dressing-table. + Two or three crushed bills, a scrap or so of poetry presented by Griffith + upon various tender occasions, and a discouragingly small banknote, the + sole remains of her last quarter's salary The supply was not equal to the + demand, it was evident. But she was by no means overpowered. She was + dashed, but not despairing. Of course, she had not expected to launch into + such a reckless piece of expenditure all at once, she had only thought she + might attain her modest ambition in the due course of time, and she + thought so yet. She crammed bills and bank-note back into the purse with + serene cheerfulness and shut it with a little snap of the clasp. + </p> + <p> + “I will begin to save up,” she said, “and I will persuade Phil to help me. + We can surely do it between us, and then we will take her somewhere and + let her have her first experience of modern society. What a sensation she + would create in the camps of the Philistines!” + </p> + <p> + She descended into the kitchen after this, appearing in those lower + regions in the full glory of apron and rolled-up sleeves, greatly to the + delight of the youthful maid-of-all-work, who, being feeble of intellect + and fond of society, regarded the prospect of spending the afternoon with + her as a source of absolute rejoicing. The “Sepoy,” as she was familiarly + designated by the family, was strongly attached to Dolly, as, indeed, she + was to every other member of the household. The truth was, that the + usefulness of the Sepoy (whose baptismal name was Belinda) was rather an + agreeable fiction than a well-established fact. She had been adopted as a + matter of charity, and it was charity rather than any recognized + brilliance of parts which caused her to be retained. Phil had picked her + up on the streets one night in time gone by, and had brought her home + principally because her rags were soaked and she had asserted that she had + nowhere to go for shelter, and partly, it must be confessed, because she + was a curiosity. Having taken her in, nobody was stern enough to turn her + out to face her fate again, and so she stayed. Nobody taught her anything + in particular about household economy, because nobody knew anything + particular to teach her. It was understood that she was to do what she + could, and that what she could not do should be shared among them. She + could fetch and carry, execute small commissions, manage the drudgery and + answer the door-bell, when she was presentable, which was not often; + indeed, this last duty had ceased to devolve upon her, after she had once + confronted Lady Augusta with personal adornments so remarkable as to + strike that august lady dumb and rigid with indignation upon the + threshold, and cause her, when she recovered herself, to stonily, but + irately demand an explanation of the gratuitous insult she considered had + been offered her. Belinda's place was in the kitchen, after this, and to + these regions she usually confined herself, happily vigorous in the + discharge of her daily duties. She was very fond of Dolly, and hailed the + approach of her days of freedom with secret demonstrations of joy. She + hoarded the simple presents of finery given her by that young person with + care, and regarded them in the light of sacred talismans. A subtle + something in her dwarfed, feeble, starved-out nature was stirred, it may + be, by the sight of the girl's life and brightness; and, apart from this, + it would not have been like Dolly Crewe if she had not sympathized, half + unconsciously, half because she was constitutionally sympathetic, with + even this poor stray. If she had been of a more practical turn of mind, in + all probability she would have taken Belinda in hand and attacked the work + of training her with laudable persistence; but, as it was, private + misgivings as to the strength of her own domestic accomplishments caused + her to confine herself to more modest achievements. She could encourage + her, at least, and encourage her she did with divers good-natured speeches + and a leniency of demeanor which took the admiring Sepoy by storm. + </p> + <p> + Saturday became a white day in the eyes of Belinda, because, being a + holiday, it left Dolly at liberty to descend into the kitchen and apply + herself to the study of cookery as a science, with much agreeable bustle + and a pleasant display of high spirit and enjoyment of the novelty of her + position. She had her own innocent reasons for wishing to become a + proficient in the art, and if her efforts were not always crowned with + success, the appearance of her handiwork upon the table on the occasion of + the Sunday's dinner never disturbed the family equilibrium, principally, + perhaps, because the family digestion was unimpaired. They might be + jocose, they had been ironical, but they were never severe, and they + always addressed themselves to the occasionally arduous task of disposing + of the viands with an indifference to consequences which nothing could + disturb. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot possibly be married without knowing something of cookery,” + Dolly had announced oracularly; “and one cannot gain a knowledge of it + without practising, so I am going to practise. None of you are dyspeptic, + thank goodness, so you can stand it. The only risk we run is that Tod + might get hold of a piece of the pastry and be cut off in the bloom of his + youth; but we must keep a strict watch upon him.” + </p> + <p> + And she purchased a cookery book and commenced operations, and held to her + resolve with Spartan firmness, encouraged by private but enthusiastic + bursts of commendation from Griffith, who, finding her out, read the + tender meaning of the fanciful seeming whim, and was so touched thereby + that the mere sight of her in her nonsensical little affectation of + working paraphernalia raised him to a seventh heaven of bliss. + </p> + <p> + When she made her entrance into the kitchen on this occasion, and began to + bustle about in search for her apron, Belinda, who was on her knees + polishing the grate, amidst a formidable display of rags and brushes, + paused to take breath and look at her admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Are yer goin' to make yer pies 'n things, Miss Dolly?” she asked. “Which, + if ye are, yer apern 's in the left 'and dror.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Dolly. “Thank you. Now where is the cookery book?” + </p> + <p> + “Left 'and dror agin,” announced Belinda, with a faint grin. “I allus puts + it there.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Dolly, making industrious search for it, found it, and applied + herself to a deep study of it, resting her white elbows on the dresser, + and looking as if she had been suddenly called upon to master its contents + or be led to the stake. She could not help being intense and in earnest + even over this every-day problem of pies and puddings. + </p> + <p> + “Fricassee?” she murmured. “Fricassee was a failure, so was mock-turtle + soup; it looked discouraging, and the fat <i>would</i> swim about in a way + that attracted attention. Croquettes were not so bad, though they were a + little stringy; but beef <i>à la mode</i> was positively unpleasant. + Jugged hare did very well, but oyster <i>pâtés</i> were dubious. Veal pie + Griffith liked.” + </p> + <p> + “There's somebody a-ringin' at the door-bell,” said Belinda, breaking in + upon her. “He's rung twict, which I can go, mum, if I ain't got no smuts.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly looked up from her book. + </p> + <p> + “Some one is going now, I think,” she said. “I hope it is n't a visitor,” + listening attentively. + </p> + <p> + But it was a visitor, unfortunately. In a few minutes Mollie came in, + studiously perusing a card she held in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ralph,” she proclaimed, coming forward slowly. “Ralph Gowan. It's Lady + Augusta's gentleman, Dolly, and he wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly took the card and looked at it, giving her shoulders a tiny shrug of + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “He has not waited long,” she said; “and it is rather inconvenient, but it + can't be helped. I suppose I shall have to run up-stairs and present him + to Phil.” + </p> + <p> + She untied her apron, drew down her sleeves, settled the bit of ribbon at + her throat, and in three minutes opened the parlor door and greeted her + visitor, looking quite as much in the right place as she had done the + night before in the white merino. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to see you,” she said, shaking hands with him, “and I am + sure Phil will be, too. He is always glad to see people, and just now you + will be doubly welcome, because he has a new picture to talk about. Will + you come into the studio, or shall I bring him here? I think it had better + be the studio at once, because you will be sure to drift there in the end,—visitors + always do.” + </p> + <p> + “The studio let it be, if you please,” answered Gowan, wondering, just as + he had done the night before, at the indescribable something in her manner + which was so novel because it was so utterly free from any suggestion of + affectation. It would have been a difficult matter to tell her that he had + not come for any other reason than to see herself again, and yet this + really was the case. + </p> + <p> + But his rather fanciful taste found Phil a novelty also when she led him + into the studio, and presented him to that young man, who was lying upon a + couch with a cigar in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + Phil had something of the same cool friendliness of deportment, and, being + used to the unexpected advent of guests at all hours, was quite ready to + welcome him. He had the same faculty for making noticeable speeches, too, + and was amiable, though languid and <i>débonnaire</i>, and by no means + prone to ceremony. In ten minutes after he had entered the room Ralph + Gowan understood, as by magic, that, little as the world was to these + people, they had, in their Bohemian fashion, learned through sheer tact to + comprehend and tolerate its weaknesses. He examined the pictures on the + walls and in the folios, and now and then found himself roused into + something more than ordinary admiration. But he was disappointed in one + thing. He failed in accomplishing the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + After she had seen that Phil and the paintings occupied his attention to + some extent, Dolly left them. + </p> + <p> + “I was beginning to think about pies and puddings when you came,” she + said, “and I must go back to them. Saturday is the only day Lady Augusta + leaves me, in which to improve in branches of domestic usefulness,” with + an iniquitous imitation of her ladyship's manner. + </p> + <p> + After which she went down to the kitchen again and plunged into culinary + detail with renewed vigor, thinking of the six-roomed house in the + suburbs, and the green sofa which was to fit into the alcove in the front + parlor, growing quite happy over the mental picture, in blissful + unconsciousness of the fact that a train had been that day laid, and that + a spark would be applied that very night through the medium of a simple + observation made by Phil to her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Gowan was here this morning, Grif, and Dolly brought him into the studio. + He's not a bad sort of fellow for a Philistine, and he seems to know + something about pictures. I should n't be surprised if he came again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD. + </h2> + <p> + THIS was the significant and poetic appellation which at once attached + itself to Ralph Gowan after his first visit to the studio in Bloomsbury + Place, and, as might have been expected, it was a fancy of Dolly's, the + affixing of significant titles being one of her <i>fortes</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The lilies of the field,” she observed, astutely, “are a distinct class. + They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory was + not arrayed like one of these. Yes, my young friends, Mr. Ralph Gowan is a + lily of the field.” + </p> + <p> + And she was not far wrong. Twenty-seven years before Mr. Ralph Gowan had + been presented to an extended circle of admiring friends as the sole heir + to a fortune large enough to have satisfied the ambitions of half a dozen + heirs of moderate aspirations, and from that time forward his lines had + continually fallen in pleasant places. As a boy he had been handsome, + attractive, and thoroughbred, and consequently popular; his good looks + made him a favorite with women, his good fortune with men; his friends + were rather proud of him, and his enemies were powerless against him; he + found it easy to be amiable because no obstacles to amiability lay in his + path; and altogether he regarded existence as a comfortable enough affair. + </p> + <p> + At school his fellows had liked him just as boys as well as men are apt to + like fortunate people; and as he had grown older he had always found + himself a favorite, it may be for something of the same reason. But being, + happily, a gentleman by nature, he had not been much spoiled by the + general adulation. Having been born to it, he carried himself easily + through it, scarcely recognizing the presence of what would have been + patent to men less used to popularity. He was fond of travelling, and so + had amused himself by comfortably arranging uncomfortable journeys and + exploring pleasantly those parts of the earth which to ordinary tourists + would appear unattainable. + </p> + <p> + He was not an ordinary young man, upon the whole, which was evinced by his + making no attempt to write a book of travels, though he might safely have + done so; and really, upon the whole, “lily of the field” though chance had + made him, he was neither useless nor purposeless, and rather deserved his + good luck than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because he was not an ordinary individual that his fancy + was taken by the glimpse he had caught of life in Vagabondia. It was his + first glimpse of the inner workings of such a life, and its novelty + interested him. A girl of twenty-two who received attention and admiration + in an enjoyable, matter-of-fact manner, as if she was used to and neither + over- nor under-valued it, who could make coffee and conversation bearable + and even exciting, who could hold her own against patronage and slights, + and be as piquant and self-possessed at home as in society, who could be + dazzling at night and charming in the morning, was novelty enough in + herself to make Bloomsbury Place attractive, even at its dingiest, and + there were other attractions aside from this one. + </p> + <p> + Phil in the studio, taking life philosophically, and regarding the world + and society in general with sublime and amiable tolerance, was as unique + in his way as Dolly was in hers; his handsome girl-wife, who had come in + to them with her handsome child in her arms, was unique also; Mollie + herself, who had opened the door and quite startled him with the mere + sight of her face,—well, Mollie had impressed him as she impressed + everybody. And he was quite observant enough to see the element of + matter-of-fact, half-jocular affection that bound them one to another; he + could not help seeing it, and it almost touched him. They were not a + sentimental assembly, upon the whole, but they were fond of each other in + a style peculiar to themselves, and ready to unite in any cause which was + the cause of the common weal. The family habit of taking existence easily + and regarding misfortunes from a serenely philosophical standpoint, amused + Ralph Gowan intensely. It had spiced Dolly's conversation, and it spiced + Phil's; indeed, it showed itself in more than words. They had banded + themselves against unavoidable tribulation, and it could not fail to be + beautifully patent to the far-seeing mind that, taking all things + together, tribulation had the worst of it. + </p> + <p> + They were an artistic study, Ralph Gowan found, and so, in his character + of a “lily of the field,” he fell into the habit of studying them, as an + amusement at first, afterwards because his liking for them became friendly + and sincere. + </p> + <p> + It was an easy matter to call again after the first visit,—people + always did call again at Bloomsbury Place, and Ralph Gowan was no + exception to the rule. He met Phil in the city, and sauntered home with + him to discuss art and look at his work; he invited him to first-class + little dinners, and introduced him to one or two men worth knowing; in + short, it was not long before the two were fond of each other in + undemonstrative man fashion. The studio was the sort of place Gowan liked + to drop into when time hung heavily on his hands, and consequently hardly + a week passed without his having at least once or twice dropped into it to + sit among the half dozen of Phil's fellow Bohemians, who were also fond of + dropping in as the young man sat at his easel, sometimes furiously at + work, sometimes tranquilly loitering over the finishing touches of a + picture. They were good-natured, jovial fellows, too, these Bohemian + visitors, though they were more frequently than not highly scented with + the odor of inferior tobacco, and rarely made an ostentatious display in + the matter of costume, or were conspicuously faultless in the matter of + linen; they failed to patronize the hairdresser, and were prone to various + convivialities, but they were neither vicious nor vulgar, and they were + singularly faithful to their friendships for each other. They were all + fond of Phil, and accordingly fraternized at once with his new friend, + adopting him into their circle with the ease of manner and freedom of + sentiment which seemed the characteristic of their class; and they took to + him all the more kindly because, amateur though he was, he shared many of + their enthusiasms. + </p> + <p> + Of course he did not always see Dolly when he went. During every other day + of the week but Saturday she spent her time from nine in the morning until + five in the afternoon in the rather depressing atmosphere of the Bilberry + school-room. She vigorously assaulted the foundations of Lindley Murray, + and attacked the rules of arithmetic; she taught Phemie French, and made + despairing but continuous efforts at “finishing” her in music. But poor + Phemie was not easily “finished,” and hung somewhat heavily upon the hands + of her youthful instructress; still, she was affectionate, if weak-minded, + and so Dolly managed to retain her good spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I believe they are all fond of me in their way,” she said to Griffith,—"all + the children, I mean; and that is something to be thankful for.” + </p> + <p> + “They couldn't help being fond of you,” returned the young man. “Did any + human being ever know you without being fond of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly; “Lady Augusta knows me; and I do not think—no,” + with a cheerfully resigned shake of the head, which did not exactly + express deep regret or contrition, “I really do not think Lady Augusta is + what you might call overwhelmed with the strength of her attachment for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Augusta!” said Griffith. “Confound Lady Augusta!” + </p> + <p> + Griffith was one of the very few people who did not like Ralph Gowan, and + perhaps charitably inclined persons will be half inclined to excuse his + weakness. It was rather trying, it must be admitted, for a desponding + young man rather under stress of weather, so to speak, to find himself + thrown into sharp contrast with an individual who had sailed in smooth + waters all his life, and to whom a ripple would have been a by no means + unpleasant excitement; it was rather chafing to constantly encounter this + favorite of fortune in the best of humors, because he had nothing to + irritate him; thoroughbred, unruffled, and <i>débonnaire</i> because he + had nothing of pain or privation to face; handsome, well dressed, and at + ease, because his income and his tastes balanced against each other + accommodatingly. Human nature rose up and battled in the Vagabondian + breast; there were times when, for the privilege of administering severe + corporeal chastisement to Ralph Gowan, Griffith would have sacrificed his + modest salary with a Christian fortitude and resignation beautiful to + behold. To see him sitting in one of the faded padded chairs, roused all + his ire, and his consciousness of his own weakness made the matter worse; + to see him talking to Dolly, and see her making brisk little jokes for his + amusement, was worse still, and drove him so frantic that more than once + he had turned quite pale in his secret frenzy of despair and jealousy, and + had quite frightened the girl, though he was wise enough to keep his + secret to himself. It was plain enough that Gowan admired Dolly, but other + men had admired her before; the sting of it was that this fellow, with his + cool airs and graces and tantalizing repose of manner, had no need to hold + back if he could win her. There would be no need for him to plan and pinch + and despair; no need for faltering over odd shillings and calculating odd + pence; <i>he</i> could marry her in an hour if she cared for him, and he + could surround her with luxuries, and dress her like a queen, and make her + happy, as she deserved to be. And then the poor fellow's heart would beat + fiercely, and the very blood would tremble in his veins, at the mere + thought of giving her up. + </p> + <p> + One night after they had been sitting together, and Gowan had just left + the room with Phil, Dolly glanced up from her work and saw her lover + looking at her with a face so pale and wretched that she was thrown into a + passion of fear. + </p> + <p> + She tossed her work away in a second, and, making one of her little rushes + at him, was caught in his arms and half suffocated. She knew the instant + she caught sight of his face what he was suffering, though perhaps she did + not know the worst. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why will you?” she cried out, in tears, all at once. “It is cruel! + You are as pale as death, and I know—I know so well what it means.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me you will never forget what we have been to each other,” he said, + when he could speak; “tell me you don't care for that fellow,—tell + me you love me, Dolly, tell me you love me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not hesitate a moment; she had never flirted with Griffith in her + life, and she knew him too well to try him when he wore that desperate, + feverish look of longing in his eyes. She burst into an impetuous sob, and + clung to him with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I love you with all my soul,” she said. “I will never <i>let</i> you give + me up; and as to forgetting, I might die, but I could never forget. Care + for Ralph Gowan! I love <i>you</i>, Griffith, I love <i>you!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't regret?” he said, piteously. “Oh, Dolly, just think of what + <i>he</i> could give you; and then think of our hopeless dreams about + miserable six-roomed houses and cheap furniture.” + </p> + <p> + “You will make me hate him,” cried Dolly, her gust of love and pity making + her fierce. “I don't want anything anybody could give me. I only want you, + <i>dear</i> old fellow,—<i>darling</i> old fellow,” holding him + fast, as if she would never let him go, and shedding a shower of + impassioned, tender tears. “Oh, my darling, only wait until I am your own + wife, and see how happy I will be, and how happy I will make you,—for + I <i>can</i> make you happy,—and see how I will work in our little + home for your sake, and how content I will be with a little. Oh, what must + I do to show you how I love you! Do you think I could have cared for Ralph + Gowan all these years as I have cared for you? No indeed; but I shall care + for you forever, and I would wait for you a <i>thousand</i> years if I + might only be your wife, and die in your arms at the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + And she believed every word she said, too, and would have been willing to + lay down her young life to prove it, extravagant as it may all sound to + the discreet. And she quite believed, too, that she could never have so + loved any other man than this unlucky, jealous, tempestuous one; but I + will take the liberty of saying that this was a mistake, for, being an + impassioned, heart-ruled, unworldly young person, it is quite likely that + if Ralph Gowan had stood in Mr. Griffith Donne's not exactly water-tight + shoes, she would have clung to him quite as faithfully, and believed in + his perfections quite as implicitly, and quite as scornfully would have + depreciated the merits of his rival; but chance had arranged the matter + for her years before, and so Mr. Griffith was the hero. + </p> + <p> + “Ralph Gowan!” she flung out. “What is Ralph Gowan, or any other man on + earth, to me? Did I love <i>him</i> before I knew what love was, and + scarcely understood my own heart? Did I grow into a woman loving <i>him</i> + and clinging to <i>him</i> and dreaming about him? Have I ever had any + troubles in common with <i>him</i>? Did we grow up together, and tell each + other all our thoughts and help each other to bear things? Let him travel + in the East, if he likes,"—with high and rather inconsistent + disdain,—"and let him have ten thousand a year, if he will,—a + hundred thousand millions a year wouldn't buy me from you—my own!” + In another burst, “Let him ride in his carriage, if he chooses,"—rather, + as if such a course would imply the most degraded weakness; but, as I have + said before, she was illogical, if affectionate,—"let him ride in + his carriage. I would rather walk barefoot through the world with you than + ride in a hundred carriages, if every one of them was lined with diamonds + and studded with pearls.” + </p> + <p> + There was the true flavor of Vagabondia's indiscretion and want of + forethought in this, I grant you; but such speeches as these were Dolly + Crewe's mode of comforting her lover in his dark moods; at least, she was + sincere,—and sincerity will excuse many touches of extravagance. And + as to Griffith, every touch of loving, foolish rhapsody dropped upon his + heart like dew from heaven, filling him with rapture and drawing him + nearer to her than before. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he objected,—a rather weak objection, offered rather weakly, + because he was so full of renewed confidence and bliss,—"but he is a + handsomer fellow than I am, Dolly, and it must be confessed he has good + taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Handsomer!” echoed Dolly. “What do I care about his beauty? He is n't <i>you</i>,—that + is where he fails to come up to the mark. And as to his good taste, do you + suppose for a second that I could ever admire the most imposing 'get-up' + by Poole, as I love this threadbare coat of yours, that I have laid my + cheek against for the last three years?” And she bent down all at once and + kissed the shabby sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, looking up the next minute with her eyes as bright as + stars. “We have been <i>given</i> to each other, that is it. It was n't + chance, it was something higher. We needed each other, and a higher power + than Fate bound us together, and it was a power that is n't cruel enough + to separate us now, after all these years have woven our lives in one + chord, and drawn our hearts close, and taught us how to comfort and bear + with each other. I was given to you because I could help to make your life + brighter,—and you were given to me because you could help to + brighten mine, and God will never part us so long as we are true.” + </p> + <p> + The coat sleeve came into requisition again then, as it often did. Her + enthusiastic burst ended in a gush of heart-full tears, and she hid her + face on the coat sleeve until they were shed; Griffith in the mean time + touching her partly bent head caressingly with his hand, but remaining + silent because he could not trust himself to speak. + </p> + <p> + But she became quieter at last, and got over it so far as to look up and + smile. + </p> + <p> + “I could n't give up the six-roomed house and the green sofa, Griffith,” + she said. “They are like a great many other things,—the more I don't + get them the more I want them. And the long winter evenings we are to + spend together, when you are to read and I am to sew, and we are both to + be blissfully happy. I could n't give those up on any account. And how + could I bear to see Ralph Gowan, or any one else, seated in the orthodox + arm-chair?” + </p> + <p> + The very idea of this latter calamity occurring crushed Griffith + completely. The long winter evenings they were to spend together were such + a pleasant legend. Scarcely a day passed without his drawing a mental + picture of the room which was to be their parlor, and of the fireside + Dolly was to adorn. It required only a slight effort of imagination to + picture her shining in the tiny room whose door closed upon an outside + world of struggling and an inside world of love and hope and trust. He + imagined Dolly under a variety of circumstances, but nothing pleased and + touched him so tenderly as this fireside picture,—its ideal warmth + and glow, and its poetic placing of Dolly as his wife sitting near to him + with her smiles and winsome ways and looks—his own, at last, + unshared by any outsiders. Giving that long-cherished fancy up would have + killed him, if he could have borne all the rest. And while these two + experienced the recorded fluctuations of their romance in private, Ralph + Gowan had followed Phil into the studio. + </p> + <p> + They found Mollie there on going into the room; and Mollie lying upon the + sofa asleep, with her brown head upon a big soft purple cushion, was quite + worthy a second glance. She had been rather overpowered in the parlor by + the presence of Ralph Gowan, and, knowing there was a fire in the studio, + and a couch drawn near it, she had retired there, and, appropriating a + pile of cushions, had dropped asleep, and lay there curled up among them. + </p> + <p> + Seeing her, Gowan found himself smiling faintly. Mollie amused him just as + she amused Dolly. It was so difficult a matter to assign her any settled + position in the world; She was taller than the other girls, and far larger + and more statuesque; indeed, there were moments when she seemed to be + almost imposing in presence, but this only rendered her still more a + charming incongruity. She might have carried herself like a royal + princess, but she blushed up to the tips of her ears at a glance, and was + otherwise as innocently awkward as a beauty may be. She was not fond of + strangers either, and generally lapsed into silence when spoken to. Public + admiration only disconcerted her, and made her pout, and the unceremonious + but friendly compliments of Phil's brethren in art were her special + grievance. + </p> + <p> + “They stare at me, and stare at me, and stare at me,” she complained, + pettishly, to Dolly, “and some of them say things to me. I wish they would + attend to their pictures and leave me alone.” + </p> + <p> + But she had never evinced any particular dislike to Ralph Gowan. She was + overpowered by a secret sense of his vast superiority to the generality of + mankind, but she rather admired him upon the whole. She liked to hear him + talk to Dolly, and she approved of his style. It was such a novel sort of + thing to meet with a man who was not shabby, and whose clothes seemed made + for him and were worn with a grace. He was handsome, too, and witty and + polite, and his cool, comfortable manner reminded her vaguely of Dolly's + own. So she used to sit and listen to the two as they chatted, and in the + end her guileless admiration of Dolly's eligible Philistine became pretty + thoroughly established. + </p> + <p> + When the sound of advancing footsteps roused her from her nap she woke + with great tranquillity, and sat up rubbing her drowsy eyes serenely for a + minute or so before she discovered that Phil had a companion. But when she + did discover that such was the fact she blushed all over, and looked up at + Ralph Gowan in some naïve distress. + </p> + <p> + “I did n't know any one was coming,” she said, “and I was so comfortable + that I fell asleep. It was the cushions, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it was,” answered Gowan, regarding her sleep-flushed cheeks + and exquisite eyes with the pleasure he always felt in any beauty, animate + or inanimate. “May I sit here, Mollie?” and then he looked at her again + and decided that he was quite right in speaking to her as he would have + spoken to a child, because she <i>was</i> such a very child. + </p> + <p> + “By me, on the sofa?” she answered. “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to talk business with Phil?” she asked him next, “or may I + stay here? Griffith and Dolly won't want me in the parlor, and I don't + want to go into the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt you may stay here,” he said, quite seriously; “but why + won't they want you in the parlor?” + </p> + <p> + “They never want anybody,” astutely. “I dare say they are making love,—they + generally are.” + </p> + <p> + “Making love,” he repeated. “Ah, indeed!” and for the next few minutes was + so absorbed in thought that Mollie was quite forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Making love were they,—this shabby, rather un-amiable young man and + the elder Miss Crewe? It sounded rather like nonsense to Ralph Gowan, but + it was not a pleasant sort of thing to think about. It is not to be + supposed that he himself was very desperately in love with Dolly just yet, + but it must be admitted he admired her decidedly. Beauty as Mollie was, he + scarcely gave her a glance when Dolly was in the room,—he recognized + the beauty, but it did not enslave him, it did not even attract him as + Dolly's imperfect charms did. And perhaps he had his own ideas of what + Dolly's love-making would be, of the spice and variety which would form + its characteristics, and of the little bursts of warmth and affection that + would render it delightful. It was not soothing to think of all this being + lavished on a shabby young man who was not always urbane in demeanor and + who stubbornly objected to being propitiated by politeness. + </p> + <p> + As was very natural, Mr. Ralph Gowan did not admire Mr. Griffith Donne + enthusiastically. In his visits to Bloomsbury Place, finding an + ill-dressed young man whose position in the household he could not + understand, he began by treating him with good-natured suavity, being + ready enough to make friends with him, as he had made friends with the + rest of Phil's compatriots. But influenced by objections to certain + things, Griffith was not to be treated suavely, but rather resented it. + There was no good reason for his resenting it, but resent it he did, as + openly as he could, without being an absolute savage and attracting + attention. The weakness of such a line of conduct is glaringly patent, of + course, to the well-regulated mind; but then Mr. Griffith Donne's mind was + not well-regulated, and he was, on the contrary, a very hot-headed, + undisciplined young man, and exceedingly sensitive to his own misfortunes + and shabbiness, and infatuated in his passion for the object of his + enemy's admiration. But Ralph Gowan could afford to be tolerant; in the + matter of position he was secure, he had never been slighted or patronized + in his life, and so had no shrinkings from such an ordeal; he was not + disturbed by any bitter pang of jealousy as yet, and so, while he could + not understand Griffith's restless anxiety to resent his presence, could + still tolerate it and keep cool. Yet, as might be expected, he rather + underrated his antagonist. Seeing him only in this one unfavorable light, + he regarded him simply as a rather ill-bred, or, at least, aggressively + inclined individual, whose temper and tone of mind might reasonably be + objected to. Once or twice he had even felt his own blood rise at some + implied ignoring of himself; but he was far the more urbane and + well-disposed of the two, yet whether he was to be highly lauded for his + forbearance, or whether, while lauding him, it would not be as well to + think as well as possible of his enemy, is a matter for charity to decide. + </p> + <p> + It had not occurred to him before that Griffith's frequent and + unceremonious visits implied anything very serious. There were so many + free-and-easy visitors at the house, and they all so plainly cultivated + Dolly, if they did not make actual love to her; and really outsiders would + hardly have been impressed with her deportment toward her betrothed. She + was not prone to exhibit her preference sentimentally in public. So Ralph + Gowan had been deceived,—and so he was deceived still. + </p> + <p> + “This sort of fellow,” as he mentally put it with unconscious + high-handedness, was not the man to make such a woman happy, however ready + she was to bear with him. It was just such men as he was, who, when the + novelty of possession wore off, deteriorated into tyrannical, irritable + husbands, and were not too well bred in their manners. So he became + reflective and silent, when Mollie said that the two were “making love.” + </p> + <p> + But at last it occurred to him that even to Mollie his preoccupation might + appear singular, and he roused himself accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “Making love!” he said again. “Blissful occupation! I wonder how they do + it. Do you know, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie looked at him with a freedom from scruples or embarrassment at the + conversation taking such a turn, which told its own story. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “They talk, you know, and say things to each other just + as other people do, and he kisses her sometimes. I know that,” with a + decided air, “because I have seen him do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cool enough, that, upon my word,” was her questioner's mental comment, + “and not unpleasant for Donne; but hardly significant of a fastidious + taste, if it is a public exhibition.” “Ah, indeed!” he said, aloud. + </p> + <p> + “They have been engaged so long, you know,” volunteered Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Singularly enough, I did not know, Mollie,” he replied. “Are you sure + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her eyes. “I thought everybody knew + that. They have been engaged ever since they were ever so much younger. + Dolly was only fifteen, and Griffith was only eighteen, when they first + fell in love.” + </p> + <p> + “And they have been engaged ever since?” said Gowan, his curiosity getting + decidedly the better of him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and would have been married long ago, if Griffith could have got + into something; or if Old Flynn would have raised his salary. He has only + a hundred a year,” with unabashed frankness, “and, of course, they + couldn't be married on that, so they are obliged to wait. A hundred and + fifty would do, Dolly says,—but then, they have n't got a hundred + and fifty.” + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan was meanly conscious of not being overpowered with regret on + hearing this latter statement of facts. And yet he was by no means devoid + of generous impulse. He was quite honest, however deeply he might be + mistaken, in deciding that it would be an unfortunate thing for Dolly if + she married Griffith Donne. He thought he was right, and certainly if + there had been no more good in his rival than he himself had seen on the + surface, he would not have been far wrong; but as it was he was + unconsciously very far wrong indeed. He ran into the almost excusable + extreme of condemning Griffith upon circumstantial evidence. Unfair + advantage had been taken of Dolly, he told himself. She had engaged + herself before she knew her own heart, and was true to her lover because + it was not in her nature to be false. Besides, what right has a man with a + hundred a year to bind any woman to the prospect of the life of narrow + economies and privations such an income would necessarily entail? And + forthwith his admiration of Dolly became touched with pity, and increased + fourfold. <i>She</i> was unselfish, at least, whatever her affianced might + be. Poor little soul! (It is a circumstance worthy of note, because + illustrative of the blindness of human nature, that at this very moment + Miss Dorothea Crewe was enjoying her quiet <i>tête-à-tête</i> with her + lover wondrously, and would not have changed places with any young lady in + the kingdom upon any consideration whatever.) + </p> + <p> + It is not at all to be wondered at that, in the absence of other + entertainment, Gowan drifted into a confidential chat with Mollie. She was + the sort of girl few people could have remained entirely indifferent to. + Her <i>naïveté</i> was as novel as her beauty, and her weakness, so to + speak, was her strength. Gowan found it so at least, but still it must be + confessed that Dolly was the chief subject of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You are very fond of your sister?” he said to the child. + </p> + <p> + Mollie nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I am very fond of her. We are all very fond of her. + Dolly 's the clever one of the family, next to Phil. She is n't afraid of + anybody, and things don't upset her. I wish I was like her. You ought to + see her talk to Lady Augusta, I believe she is the only person in the + world Lady Augusta can't patronize, and she is always trying to snub her + just because she is so cool. But it never troubles Dolly. I have seen her + sit and smile and talk in her quiet way until Lady Augusta could do + nothing but sit still and stare at her as if she was choked, with her + bonnet strings actually trembling.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan laughed. He could imagine the effect produced so well, and it was so + easy to picture Dolly smiling up in the face of her gaunt patroness, and + all the time favoring her with a shower of beautiful little stabs, + rendered pointed by the very essence of artfulness. He decided that upon + the whole Lady Augusta was somewhat to be pitied. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly says,” proceeded Mollie, “that she would like to be a beauty; but + if I was like her I should n't care about being a beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Gowan, unable to resist the temptation to try with a fine + speech,—"ah! it is all very well for <i>you</i> to talk about not + caring to be a beauty.” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to him for an instant that it was indiscreet to say such + a thing to her. He only meant it for a jest, and nine girls out of ten + even at sixteen would have understood his languid air of grandiloquence in + an instant. But Mollie at sixteen was extremely liberal-minded, and almost + Arcadian in her simplicity of thought and demeanor. + </p> + <p> + Her brown eyes flew wide open, and for a minute she stared at him with + mingled amazement and questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Me!” she said, ignoring all given rules of propriety of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you,” answered Gowan, smiling, and looking down at her amusedly. “I + have been paying you a compliment, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mollie, bewilderment settling on her face. But the next instant + the blood rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes fell, and she moved a little + farther away from him. + </p> + <p> + It was the first compliment she had received in all her life, and it was + the beginning of an era. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US. + </h2> + <p> + “We are going,” Dolly to Ralph Gowan, “to have a family rejoicing, and we + should like you to join us. We are going to celebrate Mollie's birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he answered, “I shall be delighted.” He had heard of these + family rejoicings before, and was really pleased with the idea of + attending one of them. They were strictly Vagabondian, which was one + recommendation, and they were entirely free from the Bilberry element, + which was another. They were not grand affairs, it is true, and set + etiquette and the rules of society at open defiance, but they were + cheerful, at least, and nobody attended them who had not previously + resolved upon enjoying himself and taking kindly to even the most + unexpected state of affairs. At Bloomsbury Place, Lady Augusta's “coffee + and conversation” became “conversation and coffee,” and the conversation + came as naturally as the coffee. People who had jokes to make made them, + and people who had not were exhilarated by the <i>bon-mots</i> of the + rest. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie will be seventeen,” said Dolly, “and it is rather a trial to me.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head gravely. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” she answered, “it makes me feel as if the dust of + ages was accumulating in my pathway, and in the second, it is not safe for + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, again?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “She is far too pretty, and her knowledge of the world is far too limited. + She secretly believes in Lord Burleigh, and clings to the poetic memory of + King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do not?” + </p> + <p> + She held up her small forefinger and shook it at him. + </p> + <p> + “If ever there was an artful little minx,” she said, “that Beggar-maid was + one. I never believed in her. I doubted her before I was twelve. With her + eyes cast down and her sly tricks! She did not cast them down for nothing. + She did it because she had long eyelashes, and it was becoming. And it is + my impression she knew more about the king than she professed to. She had + studied his character and found it weak. Beggar-maid me no beggar-maids! + She was as deep as she was handsome.” + </p> + <p> + Of course he laughed again. Her air of severe worldly experience and that + small warning forefinger were irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “But Mollie,” he said, “with all her belief in Cophetua, you think there + is not enough of the beggar-maid element in her character to sustain her + under like circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “If she met a Cophetua,” she answered, “she would open her great eyes at + his royal purple in positive delight, and if he caught her looking at him + she would blush furiously and pout a little, and be so ashamed of her + weakness that she would be ready to run away; but if he was artful enough + to manage her aright, she would believe every word he said, and romance + about him until her head was turned upside down. My fear is that some + false Cophetua will masquerade for her benefit some day. She would never + doubt his veracity, and if he asked her to run away with him I believe she + would enjoy the idea. We shall have to keep sharp watch upon her.” + </p> + <p> + “You never were so troubled about Aimée?” Gowan suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée!” she exclaimed. “Aimée has kept us all in order, and managed our + affairs for us ever since she wore Berlin wool boots and a coral necklace. + She regulated the household in her earliest years, and will regulate it + until she dies or somebody marries her, and what we are to do then our + lares and pénates only know. Aimée! Nobody ever had any trouble with + Aimée, and nobody ever will. Mollie is more like me, you see,—shares + my weaknesses and minor sins, and always sees her indiscretions ten + minutes too late for redemption. And then, since she is the youngest, and + has been the baby so long, we have not been in the habit of regarding her + as a responsible being exactly. It has struck me once or twice that + Bloomsbury Place hardly afforded wise training to Mollie. Poor little + soul!” And a faint shadow fell upon her face and rested there for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + But it faded out again as her fits of gravity usually did, and in a few + minutes she was giving him such a description of Lady Augusta's unexpected + appearance upon a like occasion in time past, that he laughed until the + room echoed, and forgot everything else but the audacious grotesqueness of + her mimicry. + </p> + <p> + It being agreed upon that Mollie's birthday was to be celebrated, the + whole household was plunged into preparations at once, though, of course, + they were preparations upon a small scale and of a strictly private and + domestic nature. Belinda, being promptly attacked with inflammation of the + throat, which was a chronic weakness of hers, was rather inconveniently, + but not at all to the surprise of her employers, incapacitated from + service, and accordingly Dolly's duties became varied and multitudinous. + </p> + <p> + Sudden inflammation on the part of Belinda was so unavoidable a + consequence of any approaching demand upon her services as to have become + proverbial, and the swelling of that young person's “tornsuls,” as she + termed them, was anticipated as might be anticipated the rising of the + sun. Not that it was Belinda's fault, however; Belinda's anxiety to be + useful amounted at all times to something very nearly approaching a + monomania; the fact simply was, that, her ailment being chronic, it + usually evinced itself at inopportune periods. “It's the luck of the + family,” said Phil. “We never loved a tree or flower, etc.” + </p> + <p> + And so Belinda was accepted as an unavoidable inconvenience, and was borne + with cheerfully, accordingly. + </p> + <p> + It was not expected of her that she should appear otherwise on the + eventful day than with the regulation roll of flannel about her neck. + Dolly did not expect it of her at least, so she was not surprised, on + entering the kitchen in the morning, to be accosted by her grimy young + handmaiden in the usual form of announcement:— + </p> + <p> + “Which, if yer please, miss, my tornsuls is swole most awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they?” said Dolly. “Well, I am very sorry, Belinda. It can't be + helped, though; Mollie will have to run the errands and answer the + door-bell, and you must stay with me and keep out of the draught. You can + help a little, I dare say, if you are obliged to stay in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, 'm,” said Belinda, and then sidling up to the dresser, and rubbing + her nose in an abasement of spirit, which resulted in divers startling + adornments of that already rather highly ornamented feature. “If yer + please, 'm,” she said, “I 'm very sorry, Miss Dolly. Seems like I ain't + never o' no use to yer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are,” said Dolly, cheerily, “and you can't help the sore throat, + you know. You are a great deal of use to me sometimes. See how you save my + hands from being spoiled; they would n't be as white as they are if I had + to polish the grates and build the fires. Never mind, you will be better + in a day or so. Now for the cookery-book.” + </p> + <p> + “I never seen no one like her,” muttered the delighted Sepoy, returning to + her vigorous cleaning of kettles and pans. “I never seen no one like none + on 'em, they 're that there good-natured an' easy on folk.” + </p> + <p> + It was a busy day for Dolly, as well as for the rest of them, and there + was a by no means unpleasant excitement in the atmosphere of business. The + cookery, too, was a success, the game pâtés being a triumph, the tarts + beautiful to behold, and the rest of the culinary experiments so + marvellous, that Griffith, arriving early in the morning, and being led + down into the pantry to look at them as a preliminary ceremony, professed + to be struck dumb with admiration. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Dolly, backing up against the wall in her excitement, and + thrusting her hands very far into her apron pockets indeed,—"there! + what do you think of <i>that</i>, sir?” And she stood before him in a + perfect glow of triumph, her cheeks like roses, her sleeves rolled above + her dimpled elbows, her hair pushed on her forehead, and her general + appearance so deliciously business-like and agreeably professional that + the dusts of flour that were so prominent a feature in her costume seemed + only an additional charm. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it?” said Griffith. “It is the most imposing display I ever saw + in my life. The trimmings upon those tarts are positively artistic. You + don't mean to say you did it all yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” regarding them critically,—"ev-er-y bit,” with a little nod + for every syllable. + </p> + <p> + “Won-der-ful!” with an air of complimentary incredulity. “May I ask if + there is anything you can <i>not</i> do?” + </p> + <p> + “There is absolutely nothing,” sententiously. And then somehow or other + they were standing close together, as usual, his arm around her waist, her + hands clasped upon his sleeve. “When we get the house in Putney, or + Bayswater, or Peckham Eise, or whatever it is to be,” she said, laughing + in her most coaxing way, “this sort of thing will be convenient. And it <i>is</i> + to come, you know,—the house, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted Griffith, with dubious cheerfulness, “it <i>is</i> to + come,—some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + But her cheerfulness was not of a dubious kind at all. She only laughed + again, and patted his arm with a charming air of proprietorship. + </p> + <p> + “I have got something else to show you,” she said; “something up-stairs. + Can you guess what it is? Something for Mollie,—something she wanted + which is dreadfully extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Griffith. “Not the maroon silk affair!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” her doubt as to the wisdom of her course expressing itself in a + whimsical little grimace. “I could n't help it. It will make her so happy; + and I should so have liked it myself if I had been in her place.” + </p> + <p> + She had been going to lead him up-stairs to show it to him as it lay in + state, locked up in the parlor, but all at once she changed her mind. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said; “I think you had better not see it until Mollie comes down + in state. It will look best then; so I won't spoil the effect by letting + you see it now.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith had brought his offering, too,—not much of an offering, + perhaps, but worth a good deal when valued according to the affectionate + good-will it represented. “The girls” had a very warm corner in the young + man's tender heart, and the half-dozen pairs of gloves he produced from + the shades of an inconvenient pocket of his great-coat, held their own + modest significance. + </p> + <p> + “Gloves,” he said, half apologetically, “always come in; and I believe I + heard Mollie complaining of hers the other day.” + </p> + <p> + Certainly they were appreciated by the young lady in question, their + timely appearance disposing of a slight difficulty of addition to her + toilet. + </p> + <p> + The maroon silk was to be a surprise; and surely, if ever surprise was a + success, this was. Taking into consideration the fact that she had spent + the earlier part of the day in plaintive efforts to remodel a dubious + garment into a form fitting to grace the occasion, it is not to be + wondered at that the sudden realization of one of her most hopelessly + vivid imaginings rather destroyed the perfect balance of her equilibrium. + </p> + <p> + She had almost completed her toilet when Dolly produced her treasure; + nothing, in fact, remained to be done but to don the dubious garment, when + Dolly, slipping out of the room, returned almost immediately with + something on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind your old alpaca, Mollie,” she said. “I have something better + for you here.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie turned round in some wonder to see what she meant, and the next + minute she turned red and pale with admiring amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, rather unnecessarily, “it's a maroon silk.” And she sat + down with her hands clasped, and stared at it in the intensity of her + wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, “it is a maroon silk, and you are to wear it to-night. + It is Phil's birthday present to you,—and mine.” + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken at once. The girl got up and made an impulsive rush + at her, and, flinging her bare white arms out, caught her in a tempestuous + embrace, maroon silk and all, laughing and crying both together. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said,—"Dolly, it is the grandest thing I ever had in my + life, and you are the best two—you and Phil—that ever lived!” + And not being as eloquent by nature as she was grateful and affectionate, + she poured out the rest of her thanks in kisses and interjections. + </p> + <p> + Then Dolly, extricating herself, proceeded to add the final touches to the + unfinished toilet, and in a very few minutes Miss Mollie stood before the + glass regarding herself in such ecstatic content as she had perhaps never + before experienced. + </p> + <p> + “Who is going to be here, Dolly?” she asked, after taking her first + survey. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said Dolly. “Well, I scarcely know. Only one or two of Phil's + friends and Ralph Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie gave a little start, and then blushed in the most pathetically + helpless way. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, and looked at her reflection in the glass again, as if she + did not exactly know what else to do. + </p> + <p> + A swift shadow of surprise showed itself in Dolly's eyes, and died out + almost at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” she said, briefly. “If you are, we will go down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + There was a simultaneous cry of admiration from them all when the two + entered the parlor below, and Miss Mollie appeared attired in all her + glory. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is!” exclaimed 'Toinetté and Aimée, together. + </p> + <p> + “Just the right shade,” was Phil's immediate comment. “Catches the lights + and throws out her coloring so finely. Turn round, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + And Mollie turned round obediently, a trifle abashed by her own + gorgeousness, and looking all the lovelier for her momentary abasement. + </p> + <p> + Griffith was delighted. He went to her and kissed her, and praised her + with the enthusiastic frankness which characterized all his proceedings + with regard to the different members of the family of his betrothed. He + was as proud of the girl's beauty as if she were a sister of his own. + </p> + <p> + Then the object of their mutual admiration knelt down upon the hearth-rug, + before Tod, who, attired in ephemeral splendor, had stopped in his tour + across the room to stare up with bright baby wonder at the novelty of + warm, rich color which had caught his fancy. + </p> + <p> + “I must kiss Tod,” she said; no ceremony was ever considered complete, and + no occasion perfect, unless Tod had been kissed, and so taken into the + general confidence. “Tod, come and be kissed.” + </p> + <p> + But, being a young gentleman of by no means effusive nature, Tod preferred + to remain stationary, holding to the toe of his red shoe and gazing upward + with an expression of approbation and indifference commingled, which + delighted his feminine admirers beyond expression. + </p> + <p> + “He knows it is something new,” said 'Toinette. “See how he looks at it.” + Whereupon, of course, there was a chorus of delighted acquiescence, and + Aunt Dolly must needs go down upon the hearthrug, too. + </p> + <p> + “Has Aunt Mollie got a grand new dress on, Beauty?” she said, glowing with + such pretty, womanly adoration of this atom of all-ruling baby-dom, as + made her seem the very cream and essence of lovableness and sweet + nonsense. And then, Master Tod, still remaining unmoved by adulation, and + still regarding his small circle of tender sycophants with round, liquid, + baby eyes serene, and dewy red lips apart, was so effective in this one of + his many entrancing moods, that he was no longer to be resisted, and so + was caught up and embraced with ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “He notices everything,” cries Aunt Dolly; “and I 'm sure he understands + every word he hears. He is <i>so</i> different from other babies.” + </p> + <p> + Different! Of course he was different. There was not one of them but + indignantly scouted at the idea of there ever having before existed such a + combination of infantile gifts and graces. The most obtuse of people could + not fail to acknowledge his vast superiority, in spite of their + obtuseness. + </p> + <p> + “But,” remarked Aimée, with discretion, “you had better stand up, Mollie, + or you will crush your front breadths." + </p> + <p> + Mollie, with a saving recollection of front breadths, arose, and as it + chanced just in time to turn toward the door as Ralph Gowan came in. + </p> + <p> + He was looking his best to-night,—that enviable, thorough-bred best, + which was the natural result of culture, money, and ease; and Dolly, + catching sight of Mollie's guileless blushes, deplored, while she did not + wonder at them, understanding her as she did. It was just like the child + to blush, feeling herself the centre of observation, but she could not + help wishing that her blush had not been quite so quick and sensitive. + </p> + <p> + But if she had flushed when he entered, she flushed far more when he came + to speak to her. He held in his hand a bouquet of flowers,—white + camellia buds and bloom, and dark, shadowy green; a whim of his own, he + said. + </p> + <p> + “I heard about the maroon dress,” he added, when he had given it to her, + “and my choice of your flowers was guided accordingly. White camellias, + worn with maroon sik, are artistic, Mollie, your brother will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “They are very pretty,” said Mollie, looking down at them in grateful + confusion; “and I am much obliged. Thank you, Mr. Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + “A great many good wishes go with them,” he said, good-naturedly. “If I + were an enchanter, you should never grow any older from this day forward.” + And his speech was something more than an idle compliment. There was + something touching to him, too, in the fact of the child's leaving her + childhood behind her, and confronting so ignorantly the unconscious dawn + of a womanhood which might hold so much of the bitterness of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, Mollie did not understand this. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked him, forgetting her camellias, in her wonder at his + fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said he. “Because seventeen is such a charming age, Mollie; and it + would be well for so many of us if we did not outlive its faith and + freshness.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed over to Dolly then, and made his well-turned speech of friendly + greeting to her also, but his most ordinary speech to her had its own + subtle warmth. He was growing very fond of Dolly Crewe. But Dolly was a + trifle preoccupied; she was looking almost anxiously at Mollie and the + camellias. + </p> + <p> + “He has been paying her a compliment or she would not look so fluttered + and happy,” she was saying to herself. “I wish he wouldn't. It may please + him, but it is dangerous work for Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + And when she raised her eyes to meet Ralph Gowan's, he saw that there was + the ghost of a regretful shadow in them. + </p> + <p> + She had too much to do, however, to be troubled long. Phil's friends began + to drop in, one by one, and the business of the evening occupied her + attention. There was coffee to be handed round, and she stood at a + side-table and poured it out herself into quaint cups of old china, which + were a relic of former grandeur; and as she moved to and fro, bringing one + of these cups to one, or a plate of fantastic little cakes to another, and + flavoring the whole repast with her running fire of spicy speeches, Gowan + found himself following her with his eyes and rather extravagantly + comparing her to ambrosia-bearing Hebe, at the same time thinking that in + Vagabondia these tilings were better done than elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + The most <i>outré</i> of Phil's hirsute and carelessly garbed + fellow-Bohemians somehow or other seemed neither vulgar nor ill at ease. + They evidently felt at home, and admired faithfully and with complete + unison the feminine members of their friend's family; and their readiness + to catch at the bright or grotesque side of any situation evinced itself + in a manner worthy of imitation. Then, too, there was Tod, taking + excursionary rambles about the carpet, and, far from being in the way, + rendering himself an innocent centre of attraction. Brown cracked jokes + with him, Jones bribed him with cake to the performance of + before-unheard-of feats, and one muscular, fiercely mustached and bearded + young man, whose artistic forte was battle-pieces of the most sanguinary + description, appropriated him bodily and set him on his shoulder, greatly + to the detriment of his paper collar. + </p> + <p> + “The spirit of Vagabondia is strong in Tod,” said Dolly, who at the time + was standing near Gowan upon the hearth-rug, with her own coffee-cup in + hand; “its manifestation being his readiness to accommodate himself to + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Through the whole of the evening Mollie and the camellias shone forth with + resplendence. Those of Phil's masculine friends who had known her since + her babyhood felt instinctively that to-night the Rubicon had been passed. + Unconscious as she was of herself, she was imposing in the maroon silk, + and these free-and-easy, good-natured fellows were the very men to be + keenly alive to any subtle power of womanhood. So when they addressed her + their manner was a trifle subdued, and their deportment toward her had a + faint savor of delicate reverence. + </p> + <p> + Dolly was in her element. Her songs, her little supper, and her plans of + entertainment were a perfect success. Such jokes as she made and such + laughter as she managed to elicit through the medium of the smallest of + them, and such aptness and tact as she displayed in keeping up the general + fusillade of <i>bon-mots</i> and repartee. It would have been impossible + for a witticism to fall short of its mark under her active + superintendence, even if witticisms had been prone to fall short in + Vagabondia, which they decidedly were not. She kept Griffith busy, too, + from first to last, perhaps because she felt it to be the safest plan; at + any rate, she held him near her, and managed to keep him in the best of + spirits all the evening, and more than once Gowan, catching a glimpse of + her as she addressed some simple remark to the favored one, recognized a + certain bright softness in her face which told its own story. But there + would have been little use in openly displaying his discomfiture; so, + after feeling irritated for a moment or so, Ralph Gowan allowed himself to + drift into attendance on Mollie, and, being almost gratefully received by + that young lady, he did not find that the time passed slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you came here.” she said to him, plaintively, when he first + crossed the room to her side. “I do so hate Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “Brown!” he echoed. “Who <i>is</i> Brown, Mollie? and what has Brown been + doing to incur your resentment?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie gave her shoulders a petulant shrug. + </p> + <p> + “Brown is that little man in the big coat,” she said, “the one who went + away when you came. I wish he would stay away. I can't bear him,” with + delightful candor. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” persisted Gowan, casting a glance at the side of the room where + Dolly stood talking to her lover. “Is it because his coat is so big, or + because he is so little, that he is so objectionable? To be at once moral + and instructive, Mollie, a man is not to be judged by his coat.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” returned Mollie, her unconscious innocence asserting + itself; “it is n't that. <i>You</i> couldn't be as disagreeable as he is + if you were dressed in rags.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan turned quickly to look at her, forgetting even Dolly for the + instant,—but she was quite in earnest, and met his questioning eyes + with the most pathetic ignorance of having said anything extraordinary. + Indeed, her faith in what she had said was so patent that he found it + impossible to answer her with a light or jesting speech. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't that,” she went on, pulling at a glossy green leaf on her + bouquet. “If he did n't—if he would n't—if he didn't keep + saying things—” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of things?” asked Gowan, to help her out of her dilemma. + </p> + <p> + “I—don't know,” was the shy reply. “Stupid things.” + </p> + <p> + “Stupid things!” he repeated. “Poor Brown!” and his eyes wandered to Dolly + again. + </p> + <p> + But it would not have been natural if he had not been attracted by Mollie, + after all, and in the course of time in a measure consoled by her. She was + so glad to be protected from the advances of the much despised Brown, that + he found it rather pleasant than otherwise to constitute himself her + body-guard,—to talk to her as they sat, and to be her partner in the + stray dances which accidentally enlivened the evening entertainment. She + danced well, too, he discovered, and with such evident enjoyment of her + own smooth, swaying movements as was quite magnetic, and made him half + reluctant to release her when their first waltz was ended, and she stopped + all aflush with new bloom. + </p> + <p> + “I am <i>so</i> fond of dancing,” she said, catching her breath in a + little sigh of ecstasy. “We all are. It is one of the things we <i>can</i> + do without spending any money, you know.” + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this, just as they were standing in twos and threes, + chatting and refreshing themselves with Dolly's confections and iced + lemonade, that an entirely unexpected advent occurred. There suddenly fell + upon the general ear a sound as of rolling wheels, and a carriage stopped + before the door. + </p> + <p> + Dolly, standing in the midst of a small circle of her own, paused in her + remarks to listen. + </p> + <p> + “It is a carriage, that is certain,” she said,—"and somebody is + getting out. I don't know “—and then a light breaking over her face + in a flash of horror and delight in the situation commingled. “Phil,” she + exclaimed, “the Philistines be upon us,—it is Lady Augusta!” + </p> + <p> + And it was. In two minutes that majestic lady was ushered in by the + excited Belinda, and announced in the following rather remarkable manner,— + </p> + <p> + “If yer please, Miss Dolly, here's your aunt, Mr. Phil.” + </p> + <p> + For a second her ladyship was speechless, even though Dolly advanced to + meet her at once. The festive gathering was too much for her, and the + sight of Ralph Gowan leaning over Mollie in all her bravery, holding her + flowers for her, and appearing so evidently at home, overpowered her + completely. But she recovered herself at length. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware,” she said to Dolly, “that you were having a"—pause + for a word sufficiently significant—"that you were holding a + reception,"—a scathing glance at the pensive Brown, who was at once + annihilated. “You will possibly excuse my involuntary intrusion. I + thought, of <i>course</i>” (emphasis), “that I should find you alone, and + as I had something to say to you concerning Euphemia, I decided to call + tonight on my way from the conversazione at Dr. Bugby's,—perhaps, + Dorothea, your friends” (emphasis again) “will excuse you for a moment, + and you will take me into another room,"—this last as if she had + suddenly found herself in a fever hospital and was rather afraid of + contagion. + </p> + <p> + But apart from Mollie, who pouted and flushed, and was extremely + uncomfortable, nobody seemed to be either chilled or overwhelmed. Phil's + greeting was so cordial and unmoved that her ladyship could only proffer + him the tips of her fingers in imposing silence, and Dolly's air of placid + good-humor was so perfect that it was as good as a modest theatrical + entertainment. + </p> + <p> + She led her visitor out of the room with a most untroubled countenance, + after her ladyship had honored Gowan with a word or so, kindly signifying + her intense surprise at meeting him in the house, and rather intimating, + delicately, that she could not comprehend his extraordinary conduct, and + hoped he would not live to regret it. + </p> + <p> + The interview was not a long one, however. In about ten minutes the + carriage rolled away, and Dolly came back to the parlor with a touch of + new color on her cheek, and a dying-out spark of fire in her eye; and + though her spirits did not seem to have failed her, she was certainly a + trifle moved by something. + </p> + <p> + “Let us have another waltz.” she said, rather as if she wished to dismiss + Lady Augusta from the carpet “I will play this time. Phil, find a + partner.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down to the piano at once, and swept off into one of Phil's own + compositions, and from that time till the end of the evening she scarcely + gave them a moment's pause, and was herself so full of sparkle and + resources that she quite enraptured Gowan, and made the shabby room and + the queer life seem more novel and entrancing than ever. + </p> + <p> + But when the guests were gone, and only Griffith, who was always last, + remained with Phil and the girls, grouped about the fire, the light died + out of her mood, and she looked just a trifle anxious and tired. + </p> + <p> + “Girls,” she said, “I have some bad news to tell you,—at least some + news that isn't exactly good. Lady Augusta has given me what Belinda would + call 'a warning.' I visit the select precincts of Bilberry House as + governess no more.” + </p> + <p> + There is no denying it was a blow to them all. Her salary had been a very + necessary part of the family income, and if they had been straitened with + it, certainly there would be a struggle without it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Mollie, remorsefully. “And you have just spent nearly all you + had on my dress. And you do so want things yourself, Dolly. What shall you + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Begin to take in the daily papers and peruse the advertising column,” she + answered, courageously. “Never mind, it will all come right before long, + and we can keep up our spirits until then.” + </p> + <p> + But, despite her assumed good spirits, when she went to see Griffith out + of the front door, she held to his arm with a significantly clinging + touch, and was so silent for a moment that he stooped in the dark to kiss + her, and found her cheek wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + It quite upset him, too, poor fellow! Dolly crying and daunted was a state + of affairs fraught with anguish to him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Dolly!” he exclaimed, tremulously. “Dolly, you are crying!” + </p> + <p> + And then she did give way, and for a minute or so quite needed the shelter + and rest of his arms. She cared for no other shelter or rest; he was quite + enough for her in her brightest or darkest day,—just this + impecunious young man, whose prospects were so limited, but whose + affection for her was so wholly without limit. She might be daunted, but + she could not remain long uncomforted while her love and trust were still + unchanged. Ah! there was a vast amount of magic in the simple, silent + pressure of the arm within that shabby coat-sleeve. + </p> + <p> + So, as might be expected, she managed to recover herself before many + minutes, and receive his tender condolences with renewed spirit; and when + she bade him good-night she was almost herself again, and was laughing, + even though her eyelashes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “we are <i>not</i> going to destruction, Lady Augusta to + the contrary, and the family luck must assert itself some time, since it + has kept itself so long in the background. And in the mean time—well,” + with a little parting wave of her hand, “Vagabondia to the rescue!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.” + </h2> + <p> + THEEE was much diligent searching of the advertising columns of the daily + papers for several weeks after this. Advertisements, in fact, became the + staple literature, and Dolly's zeal in the perusal of them was only to be + equalled by her readiness to snatch at the opportunities they presented. + No weather was too grewsome for her to confront, and no representation too + unpromising for her to be allured by. In the morning she was at Bayswater + calling upon the chilling mother of six (four of them boys) whose moral + nature needed judicious attention, and who required to be taught the + rudiments of French, German, and Latin; in the afternoon she was at the + general post-office applying to Q. Y. Z., who had the education of two + interesting orphans to negotiate for, and who was naturally desirous of + doing it as economically as possible; and at night she was at home, + writing modest, business-like epistles to every letter in the alphabet in + every conceivable or inconceivable part of the country. + </p> + <p> + “If I had only been born 'a stout youth,' or 'a likely young man,' or 'a + respectable middle-aged person,' I should have been 'wanted' a dozen times + a day,” she would remark; “but as it is, I suppose I I must wait until + something 'presents itself,' as the Rev. Marmaduke puts it.” + </p> + <p> + And in defiance of various discouraging and dispiriting influences, she + waited with a tolerable degree of tranquillity until, in the course of + time, her patience was rewarded. Sitting by the fire one morning with Tod + and a newspaper, her eye was caught by an advertisement which, though it + did not hold out any extra inducements, still attracted her attention, so + she read it aloud to Aimée and 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + “Wanted, a young person to act as companion to an elderly lady. Apply at + the printers.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Aimée,” she commented, “there is another. I suppose I might call + myself 'a young person,' Don't you think I had better 'apply at the + printer's'?” + </p> + <p> + “They don't mention terms,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “You would have to leave home,” said 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + Dolly folded up the paper and tossed it on to the table with a half sigh. + She had thought of that the moment she read the paragraph, and then, very + naturally, she had thought of Griffith. It would not be feasible to + include him in her arrangements, even if she made any. Elderly ladies who + engage “young persons” as companions were not in the habit of taking + kindly to miscellaneous young men, consequently the prospect was not a + very bright one. + </p> + <p> + There would only be letter-writing left to them, and letters seemed such + cold comfort contrasted with every-day meetings. She remembered, too, a + certain six months she had spent with her Bilberry charges in Switzerland, + when Griffith had nearly been driven frantic by her absence and his + restless dissatisfaction, and when their letters had only seemed new aids + to troublous though unintentional games at cross-purposes. There might be + just the same thing to undergo again, but, then, how was it to be avoided? + It was impossible to remain idle just at this juncture. + </p> + <p> + “So it cannot be helped,” she said, aloud. “I must take it if I can get + it, and I must stay in it until I can find something more pleasant, though + I cannot help wishing that matters did not look so unpromising. Tod, you + will have to go down, Aunt Dolly is going to put on her hat and present + herself at the printer's in the character of a young person in search of + an elderly lady.” + </p> + <p> + Delays were dangerous, she had been taught by experience, so she ran + up-stairs at once for her out-door attire, and came down in a few minutes, + drawing on her gloves and looking a trifle ruefully at them. + </p> + <p> + “They are getting discouragingly white at the seams,” she said, “and it + seems almost impossible to keep them sewed up. I shall have to borrow + Aimée's muff. What a blessing it is that the weather is so cold!” + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the staircase she met Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Phemie is in the parlor, Dolly,” she announced, “and she wants to see + you. I don't believe Lady Augusta knows she is here, either, she looks so + dreadfully fluttered.” + </p> + <p> + And when she entered the room, surely enough Phemie jumped up with a + nervous bound from a chair immediately behind the door, and, dropping her + muff and umbrella and two or three other small articles, caught her in a + tremulous embrace, and at once proceeded to bedew her with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly!” she lamented, pathetically; “I have come to say good-by; and, + oh! what shall I do without you?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by!” said Dolly. “Why, Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Switzerland!” sobbed Phemie. “The—the select seminary at Geneva, + Dolly, where th-that professor of m-music with the lumpy face was.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” Dolly ejaculated. “You don't mean to say you are going there, + Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” answered Euphemia. “Next week, too. And, oh dear, Dolly!” + trying to recover her handkerchief, “if it had been anywhere else I could + have borne it, but that,” resignedly, “was the reason mamma settled on it. + She found out how I <i>loathed</i> the very thought of it, and then she + decided immediately. And don't you remember those mournful girls, Dolly, + who used to walk out like a funeral procession, and how we used to make + fun—at least, how you used to make fun of the lady principal's best + bonnet?” + </p> + <p> + It will be observed by this that Miss Dorothea Crewe's intercourse with + her pupils had not been as strictly in accordance with her position as + instructress as it had been friendly. She had even gone so far as to set + decorum at defiance, by being at once entertaining and jocular, though to + her credit it must be said that she had worked hard enough for her modest + salary, and had not neglected even the most trivial of her numerous + duties. + </p> + <p> + She began to console poor Euphemia to the best of her ability, but + Euphemia refused to be comforted. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to take lessons from that lumpy professor, Dolly,” she said. + “And you know how I used to hate him when he <i>would</i> make love to + you. And that was mamma's fault, too, because she would patronize him and + call him 'a worthy person.' He was the only man who admired you I ever + knew her to encourage, and she would n't have encouraged him if he had n't + been so detestable.” + </p> + <p> + It was very evident that the eldest Miss Bilberry was in a highly + rebellious and desperate state of mind. Dolly's daily visits, educational + though they were, had been the brightest gleams of sunlight in her sternly + regulated existence. No one had ever dared to joke in the Bilberry mansion + but Dolly, and no one but Dolly, had ever made the clan gatherings + bearable to Euphemia; and now that Dolly was cut off from them all, and + there were to be no more jokes and no more small adventures, life seemed a + desert indeed. And then with the calamitous prospect of Switzerland and + the lumpy professor before her, Phemie was crushed indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma doesn't know I came,” she confessed, tearfully, at last; “but I + could n't help it, Dolly, I could n't go away without asking you to write + to me and to let me write to you. You will write to me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Dolly promised at once, feeling a trifle affected herself. She had always + been fond of Phemie, and inclined to sympathize with her, and now she + exerted herself to her utmost to cheer her. She persuaded her to sit down, + and after picking up the muff and umbrella and parcels, took a seat by + her, and managed to induce her to dry her tears and enter into + particulars. + </p> + <p> + “It will never do for Lady Augusta to see that you have been crying,” she + said. “Dry your eyes, and tell me all about it, and—wait a minute, I + have a box of chocolates here, and I know you like chocolates.” + </p> + <p> + It was a childish consolation, perhaps, but Dolly knew what she was doing + and whom she was dealing with, and this comforting with confections was + not without its kindly girlish tact. Chocolates were one of Phemie's + numerous school-girl weaknesses, and a weakness so rarely indulged in that + she perceptibly brightened when her friend produced the gay-colored, + much-gilded box. And thus stimulated, she poured forth her sorrows with + more coherence and calmness. She was to go to Switzerland, that was + settled, and the others were to be placed in various other highly select + educational establishments. They were becoming too old now, Lady Augusta + had decided, to remain under Dolly's care. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” added Euphemia, half timidly, “you won't be vexed if I tell + you, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” answered Dolly, who knew very well what was coming, + though poor Phemie evidently thought she was going to impart an extremely + novel and unexpected piece of intelligence. “What is it, Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, somehow or other, I don't believe mamma exactly likes you, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + Now, considering circumstances, this innocent speech amounted to a rich + sort of thing to say, but Dolly did not laugh; she might caricature Lady + Augusta for the benefit of her own select circle of friends, but she never + made jokes about her before Phemie, however sorely she might be tempted. + So, now she helped herself to a chocolate with perfect sobriety of + demeanor. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “I have thought so myself, Phemie.” And then, + as soon as possible, changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + At length Phemie rose to go. As Lady Augusta was under the impression that + she was merely taking the dismal daily constitutional, which was one of + her unavoidable penances, it would not do to stay too long. + </p> + <p> + “So I <i>must</i> go,” lamented Phemie; “but, Dolly, if you would n't + mind, I should <i>so</i> like to see the baby. I have never seen him since + the day we called with mamma,—and I am so fond of babies, and he was + so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly laughed, in spite of herself. She remembered the visit so well, and + Lady Augusta's loftily resigned air of discovering, in the passively + degenerate new arrival, the culminating point of the family depravity. + </p> + <p> + “It is much to be regretted,” she had said, disapprovingly; “but it is + exactly what I foresaw from the first, and you will have to make the best + of it.” + </p> + <p> + And then, on Dolly's modestly suggesting that they intended to do so, and + were not altogether borne down to the earth by the heavy nature of their + calamity, she had openly shuddered. + </p> + <p> + But Phemie had quite clung to the small bundle of lawn and flannel, and + though she had never seen Tod since, she had by no means forgotten him. + </p> + <p> + “He will be quite a big boy when I come back,” she added. “And I should so + like to see him once again while he is a baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you shall see him,” said Dolly. “Tod is the one individual in this + house who always feels himself prepared to receive visitors. He is n't + fastidious about his personal appearance. If you will come into the next + room, I dare say we shall find him.” + </p> + <p> + And they did find him. Being desirous of employing, to the greatest + advantage, the time spent in his retirement within the bosom of his + family, he was concentrating his energies upon the mastication of the toe + of his slipper, upon which task he was bestowing the strictest and most + undivided attention, as he sat in the centre of the hearth-rug. + </p> + <p> + “He has got another tooth, Aunt Dolly,” announced 'Toinette, triumphantly, + as soon as the greetings were over. “Show Aunt Dolly his tooth.” And, + being laid upon his back on the maternal knee, in the most uncomfortable + and objectionable of positions, the tooth was exhibited, as a matter + calling forth public rejoicings. + </p> + <p> + Phemie knelt on the carpet before him, the humblest of his devotees. + </p> + <p> + “He is prettier than ever,” she said. “Do you think he would come to me, + Mrs. Crewe?” + </p> + <p> + And, though the object of her admiration at once asserted his prerogatives + by openly rejecting her overtures with scorn, she rejoiced over him as + ecstatically as if he had shown himself the most amiable of infant + prodigies, which he most emphatically had not, probably having been + rendered irascible by the rash and inconsiderately displayed interest in + his dental developments. Whatever more exacting people might have thought, + Phemie was quite satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I was in your place, Dolly,” she said, as she was going away. “You + seem so happy together here, somehow or other. Oh, dear! You don't know + how dreadful our house seems by contrast. If things <i>would</i> break or + upset, or look a little untidy,—or if mamma's caps and dresses just + would n't look so solid and heavy—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” laughed Dolly, “you have n't seen our worst side, Phemie,—the + shabby side, which means worn shoes and old dresses and bills. We don't + get our whistle for nothing in Vagabondia, though, to be sure,"—and + I won't say a memory of the shabby coat-sleeve did not suggest the + amendment,—"I don't think we pay too dearly for it; and I believe + there is not one of us who would not rather pay for it than live without + it.” + </p> + <p> + And when she gave the girl her farewell kiss, it was a very warm one, with + a touch of pity in it. It was impossible for her to help feeling sympathy + for any one who was without the Griffith element in existence. + </p> + <p> + After this she went out herself to apply at the printer's, and was sent + from there to Brabazon Lodge, which was a suburban establishment, in a + chilly aristocratic quarter. An imposing edifice, Brabazon Lodge, built of + stone, and most uncompromisingly devoid of superfluous ornament. No mock + minarets or unstable towers at Brabazon Lodge,—a substantial mansion + in a substantial garden behind substantial iron gates, and so solid in its + appointments that it was quite a task for Dolly to raise the substantial + lion's head which formed the front-door knocker. + </p> + <p> + “Wanted, a young person,” she was saying to herself, meekly, when her + summons was answered by a man-servant, and she barely escaped announcing + herself as “the young person, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Once inside the house, she was not kept waiting. She was ushered into a + well-appointed side-room, where a bright fire burned in the grate. The man + retired to make known her arrival to his mistress, and Dolly settled + herself in a chair by the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how many 'young persons' have been sent away sorrowing this + morning,” she said, “and I wonder how Griffith will like the idea of my + filling the position of companion to an elderly lady, or any other order + of lady, for the matter of that? Poor old fellow!” and she gave vent to an + unmistakable sigh. + </p> + <p> + But the appearance of the elderly lady put an end to her regrets. The door + opened and she entered, and Dolly rose to receive her. The next instant, + however, she gave a little start. She had seen the elderly lady before, + and confronting her now recognized her at once,—Miss Berenice + MacDowlas. And that Miss MacDowlas recognized her also was quite evident, + for she advanced with the air of one who was not at all at a loss. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” she remarked, succinctly, and gave Dolly her hand. + </p> + <p> + That young person took it modestly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I have had the pleasure—” she was beginning, when Miss + MacDowlas interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “You met me at the Bilberrys',” she said. “I remember seeing you very + well. You are Dorothea Crewe.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly bowed in her most insinuatingly graceful manner. + </p> + <p> + “Take a seat,” said Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + Dolly did so at once. + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas looked at her with the air of an elderly lady who was not + displeased. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you very well,” she repeated. “You were governess there. Why + did you leave?” + </p> + <p> + Dolly did not know very definitely, and told her so. + </p> + <p> + The notice given her had been unexpected. Lady Augusta had said it was + because her pupils were old enough to be sent from home. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Miss MacDowlas, and looked at her again from her hat to her + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “You are fond of reading?” she asked next + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “You read French well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly. She knew she need not hesitate to say that, at least. + </p> + <p> + “You are good company and are fond of society?” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of society,” said Dolly, “and I hope I am 'good company,'” + </p> + <p> + “You don't easily lose patience?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon circumstances,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “You can play and sing?” + </p> + <p> + “I did both the night I met you,” returned the young person. + </p> + <p> + “So you did,” said Miss MacDowlas, and examined her again. + </p> + <p> + It was rather an odd interview, upon the whole, but it did not end + unfortunately. Miss MacDowlas wanted a companion who was quick-witted and + amusing, and, having seen that Dolly was both on the evening of the + Bilberry clan gathering, she had taken a fancy to her. So after a little + sharp questioning, she announced her decision. She would employ her to + fill the vacant situation at the same rate of salary she had enjoyed in + her position of governess to the youthful Bilberrys, and she would employ + her at once. + </p> + <p> + “I want somebody to amuse me,” she said, “and I think you can do it. I am + often an invalid, and my medical man says the society of a young person + will benefit me.” + </p> + <p> + So it was settled that the following week Dolly should take up her abode + at Brabazon Lodge and enter upon the fulfilment of her duties. She was to + read, play, sing, assist in the entertainment of visitors, and otherwise + make herself generally useful, and, above all, she was to be amusing. + </p> + <p> + She left the house and proceeded homeward in a peculiar frame of mind. She + could have laughed, but she was compelled to admit to herself that she + could also have cried with equal readiness. She had met with an adventure + indeed. She was a young person at large no longer; henceforth she was the + property of the elderly dragon she had so often laughed at with Griffith. + And yet the dragon had not been so objectionable, after all. She had been + abrupt and unceremonious, but she had been better than Lady Augusta, and + she had not shown herself illiberal. But there would be no more daily + visits from Griffith, no more <i>téte-à-tétes</i> in the shabby parlor, no + more sitting by the fire when the rest had left the room, no more tender + and inconsistently long farewells at the front door. It was not pleasant + to think about. She found herself catching her breath quickly, with a + sound like a little sob. + </p> + <p> + “He will miss it awfully,” she said to herself, holding her muff closely + with her small, cold hands, and shutting her eyes to work away a tear; + “but he won't miss it more than I shall. He might live without me perhaps, + but I could n't live without him. I wonder if ever two people cared for + each other as we do before? And I wonder if the time will ever come—” + And there she broke off again, and ended as she so often did. “Poor old + fellow!” she said. “Poor, dear, patient, faithful fellow! how I love you!” + </p> + <p> + She hurried on briskly after this, but she was wondering all the time what + he would say when he found out that they were really to be separated. He + would rebel, she knew, and anathematize fate vehemently. But she knew the + rest of them would regard it as rather a rich joke that chance should have + thrown her into the hands of Miss MacDowlas. They had all so often laughed + at Griffith's descriptions of her and her letters, given generally when he + had been galled into a caustic mood by the arrival of one of the latter. + </p> + <p> + Beaching Bloomsbury Place, Dolly found her lover there. He had dropped in + on his way to his lodgings, and was awaiting her in a fever of + expectation, having heard the news from Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “What is this Aimée has been telling me?” he cried, the moment she entered + the room. “You can't be in earnest, Doll! You can't leave home altogether, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her muff on the table and sat down on one of the low chairs, + with her feet on the fender. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so until this morning,” she said, a trifle mournfully; “but it + can't be helped. The fact is, it is all settled now. I am an engaged young + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Settled!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “Engaged! Dolly, I did n't + think you would have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “I could n't help doing it,” said Dolly, her spirits by no means rising as + she spoke. “How could I?” + </p> + <p> + But he would not be consoled by any such cold comfort. He had regarded the + possibility of her leaving the house altogether as something not likely to + be thought of. Very naturally, he was of the opinion that Dolly was as + absolute a necessity to every one else as she was to himself. What <i>should</i> + he do without her? How could he exist? It was an unreasoning insanity to + talk about it. He was so roused by his subject indeed, that, neither of + them being absolutely angelic in temperament, they wandered off into + something very like a little quarrel about it,—he, goaded to + lover-like madness by the idea that she could live without him; she, + finding her low spirits culminate in a touch of anger at his hotheaded, + affectionate obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “But it is not to be expected,” he broke out at last, without any reason + whatever,—"it is not to be expected that you can contend against + everything. You are tired of disappointment, and I don't blame you. I + should be a selfish dolt if I did. If Gowan had been in my place he could + have married you, and have given you a home of your own. I never shall be + able to do that. But,” with great weakness and evidence of tribulation at + the thought, “I didn't think you would be so cool about it, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + “Cool!” cried Dolly, waxing wroth and penitent both at once, as usual. + “Who is cool? Not I, that is certain. I shall miss you every hour of my + life, Griffith.” And the sad little shadow on her face was so real that he + was pacified at once. + </p> + <p> + “I am an unreasonable simpleton!” was his next remorseful outburst. + </p> + <p> + “You have said that before,” said Dolly, rather hard-heartedly; but in + spite of it she did not refuse to let him be as affectionate as he chose + when he knelt down by her chair, as he did the next minute. + </p> + <p> + “It would be a great deal better for me,” she half whispered, breaking the + suspicious silence that followed,—"it would be a great deal better + for <i>me</i> if I did not care for you half so much;” and yet at the same + time she leaned a trifle more toward him in the most traitorous of + half-coaxing, half-reproachful ways. + </p> + <p> + “It would be the death of <i>me</i>,” said Griffith; and he at once + plunged into an eloquently persuasive dissertation upon the height and + depth and breadth and force of his love for her. He was prone to such + dissertations, and always ready with one to improve any occasion; and I am + compelled to admit that, far from checking him, Dolly rather liked them, + and was given to encourage and incite him to their delivery. When this one + was ended, he was quite in the frame of mind to listen to reason, and let + her enter into particulars concerning her morning's efforts, which she + did, at length, only adding a flavor of the mysterious up to the + introduction of Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried out Griffith, when she let out the secret. “Confound it! No! + Not Aunt MacDowlas in the flesh, Dolly? You are joking.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, shaking her head at the amazed faces of the girls, + who had come in during the recital, and who had been guilty of the + impropriety of all exclaiming at once when the climax was reached. “I am + in earnest. I am engaged as companion to no less a person than Miss + Berenice MacDowlas.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is like something out of a three-volumed novel,” said Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “It is a good joke,” said 'Toinette. + </p> + <p> + “It is very awkward,” commented Aimée. “If she finds out you are engaged + to Griffith, she will think it so indiscreet of you both that she will cut + him off with a shilling.” + </p> + <p> + “Indiscreet!” echoed Dolly. “So we are indiscreet, my sage young friend,—but + indiscretion is like variety, it is the spice of life.” + </p> + <p> + And by this brisk speech she managed to sweep away the shadow which had + touched Griffith's face, at the unconscious hint at their lack of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say such a thing again,” she said to Aimée afterward, when they + were talking the matter over, as they always talked things over together, + “or he will fancy that you share his own belief that he has something to + reproach himself with. Better to be indiscreet than to love one another + less.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal better,” commented the wise one of the family, oracularly. + She was not nineteen yet, this wise one, but she was a great comfort and + help to Dolly, and indeed to all of them. “And it is n't <i>my</i> way to + blame you, either, Dolly, though things <i>do</i> look so entangled. <i>I</i> + never advised you to give it up, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it up,” cried Dolly, a soft, pathetic warmth and color rising to her + face and eyes. “Give it up! There would be too much of what has past and + what is to come to give up with it. Give it up! I wouldn't if I could, and + I could n't if I would.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED. + </h2> + <p> + IT was several days before Bloomsbury Place settled down and became itself + again after Dolly's departure. They all missed her as they would have + missed any one of their number who had chanced to leave them; but + Griffith, coming in to make his daily visits, was naturally almost + disconsolate, and for a week or so refused to be comforted. + </p> + <p> + He could not overcome his habit of dropping in on his way to and from his + lodgings, which were near by; it was a habit of too long standing to be + overcome easily, and besides this, he was so far a part of the family + circle that his absence from it would have been regarded by its other + members as something rather like a slight, so he was obliged to pay them + the delicate attention of presenting himself at least once a day. And thus + his wounds were kept open. To come into the parlor and find them all there + but Dolly, to see her favorite chair occupied by Mollie or Aimée or + 'Toinette, to hear them talk about her and discuss her prospects,—well, + there were times when he was quite crushed by it. + </p> + <p> + “If there was any hope of a better day coming,” he said to Aimée, who, + through being the family sage, was, of course, the family confidante, “if + there was only something real to look forward to, but we are just where we + were three years ago, and this sort of thing cannot go on forever. What + right have I to hold her to her word when other men might make her + happier?” + </p> + <p> + Ainice, sitting on a stool at his feet and looking reflective, shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “That is not a right view to take,” she said, “and it is n't fair to + Dolly. Dolly would be happier with you on a pound a week than she would be + with any one else on ten thousand a year. And you ought to know that by + this time, Griffith. It is n't a question of happiness at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean—” he was beginning, but Aimée interrupted him. Her + part of this love affair was to lay plans for the benefit of the lovers + and to endeavor to settle their little difficulties in her own way. + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of Dolly,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her!” echoed Griffith. “So am I. Who isn't?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very fond of Dolly,” Aimée proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “And <i>I</i> know her as other people do not, perhaps. She does not show + as much of her real self to outsiders as they think. I have often thought + her daring, open way deceived people when it made them fancy she was so + easy to read. She has romantic fancies of her own the world never suspects + her of,—if I did not know her as I do, she is the last person on + earth I should suspect of cherishing such fancies. The fact is, you are a + sort of romance to her, and her love for you is one of her dreams, and she + clings to it as closely as she would cling to life. It is a dream she has + lived on so long that it has become part of herself, and it is my + impression that if anything happened to break her belief in it she would + die,—yes, <i>die!</i>” with another emphatic shake of the pretty + head. “And Dolly is n't the sort of girl to die for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith raised his bowed head from his hands, his soft, dark, womanish + eyes lighting up and his sallow young face flushing. “God bless her,—no!” + he said. “Her life has not been free from thorns, even so far, and she has + not often cried out against them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Aimée. “And when the roses come, no one will see as you + will how sweet she finds them. Your Dolly is n't Lady Augusta's Dolly, or + Mollie's, or Ralph Gowan's, or even mine; she is the Dolly no one but her + lover and her husband has ever seen or ever will see. <i>You</i> can get + at the spark in the opal.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith was comforted, as he often found himself comforted, under the + utterances of this wise one. + </p> + <p> + His desperation was toned down, and he was readier to hope for the best + and to feel warm at heart and grateful,—grateful for Dolly and the + tender thoughts that were bound up in his love for her. The tender phantom + Aimée's words had conjured up, stirred within his bosom a thrill so loving + and impassioned, that for the time the radiance seemed to emanate from the + very darkest of his clouds of disappointment and discouragement. He was + reminded that but for those very clouds the girl's truth and faith would + never have shone out so brightly. But for their poverty and long + probation, he could never have learned how much she was ready to face for + love's sake. And it was such an innocent phantom, too, this bright little + figure smiling upon him through the darkness, with Dolly's own face, and + Dolly's own saucy, fanciful ways, and Dolly's own hands outstretched + toward him. He quite plucked up spirit. + </p> + <p> + “If Old Flynn could just be persuaded to give me a raise,” he said; “it + would n't take much of an income for two people to live on.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the wise one, feeling some slight misgivings, more on the + subject of the out-go than the income. “You might live on very little—if + you had it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Griffith, apparently struck by the brilliancy of the + observation, “Dolly and I have said so often.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” considered Aimée, “suppose we were to make a sort of + calculation. Give me your lead-pencil and a leaf out of your pocket-book.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith produced both at once. He had done it often enough before when + Dolly had been the calculator, and had made a half-serious joke of the + performance, counting up her figures on the tips of her fingers, and + making great professions of her knowledge of domestic matters; but it was + a different affair in Aimée's hands. Aimée was in earnest, and bending + over her scrap of paper, with two or three little lines on her white + forehead began to set things down with an air at once business-like and + vigorous, reading, the various items aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Rent, coals, taxes, food, wages,—you can't do your own washing, you + know,—clothes, etceteras. There it is, Griffith,” the odd, tried + look settling in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Griffith took the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he remarked, resignedly, after he had glanced at it. “Just + fifty pounds per annum more than I have any prospect of getting. But you + are very kind to take so much interest in it, little woman.” “Little + woman” was his pet name for her. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand up to her forehead and gave the wrinkles a little rub, as + if she would have liked to rub them away. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, in distress. “I am very fond of calculating, so it isn't + any trouble to me. I only wish I could calculate until what you want and + what you have got would come out even.” + </p> + <p> + Griffith sighed. He had wished the same thing himself upon several + occasions. + </p> + <p> + He had one consolation in the midst of his tribulations, however. He had + Dolly's letters, one of which arrived at “the office” every few days. + Certainly they were both faithful correspondents. Tied with blue ribbon in + a certain strong box, lay an immense collection of small envelopes, all + marked with one peculiarity, namely, that the letters inside them had been + at once closely written, and so much too tightly packed that it seemed a + wonder they had ever arrived safely at their destination. They bore + various postmarks, foreign and English, and were of different tints, but + they were all directed in the one small, dashing hand, whose <i>t''</i>s + were crossed with an audacious little flourish, and whose capitals were so + prone to run into whimsical little curls. Most of them had been written + when Dolly had sojourned with her charges in Switzerland, and some of them + were merely notes of appointment from Bloomsbury Place; but each of them + held its own magnetic attraction for Griffith, and not one of them would + he have parted with for untold gold. He could count these small envelopes + by the score, but he had never received one in his life without + experiencing a positive throb of delight, which held fresh pleasure every + time. + </p> + <p> + Most of these letters, too, had stories of their own. Some had come when + he had been discouraged and down at heart, and they had been so full of + sunshine, and pretty, loving conceits, that by the time he had finished + reading them he had been positively jubilant; some, I regret to say, were + a trifle wilful and coquettish, and had so roused him to jealous fancies + that he had instantly dashed off a page or so of insane reproach and + distrust which had been the beginning of a lover's quarrel; some of them + (always written after he had been specially miserable and unreasoning) + were half-pathetic mixtures of reproach and appeal, full of small dashes + of high indignation, and outbursts of penitence, and with such a + capricious, yet passionate ring in every line, that they had seemed less + like letters than actual speech, and had almost forced him to fancy that + Dolly herself was at his side, all in the flush and glow of one of her + prettiest remorseful outbreaks. + </p> + <p> + And these letters from Brabazon Lodge were just as real, so they at least + helped him to bear his trials more patiently than he could otherwise have + done. She was far more comfortable than she had expected to be, she told + him. Her duties were light, and Miss MacDowlas not hard to please, and + altogether she was not dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “But that I am away from <i>you</i>,” she wrote, “I should say Brabazon + Lodge was better than the Bilberrys'. There is no skirmishing with Lady + Augusta, at least; and, though skirmishing with Lady Augusta is not + without its mild excitement, it is not necessary to one's happiness, and + may be dispensed with. I wonder what Miss MacDowlas would say if she knew + why I wear this modest ring on my third finger. When I explained to her + casually that we were old friends, she succinctly remarked that you were a + reprobate, and, feeling it prudent not to proceed with further + disclosures, I bent my head demurely over my embroidery, and subsided into + silence. I cannot discover why she disapproves of you unless it is that + she has erratic notions about literary people. Perhaps she will alter her + opinion in time. As it is, it can scarcely matter whether she knows of our + engagement or not. When a fitting opportunity arrives I shall tell her, + and I don't say I shall not enjoy the spice of the <i>denouement</i>. In + the meantime I read aloud to her, talk, work wonders in Berlin wool, and + play or sing when she asks me, which is not often. In the morning we drive + out, in the afternoon she enjoys her nap, and in the evening I sit + decorously intent upon the Berlin wonders, but thinking all the time of + you and the parlor in Bloomsbury Place, where Tod disports himself in + triumphant indifference to consequences, and where the girls discuss the + lingering possibilities of their wardrobes. You may-tell Mollie we are + very grand,—we have an immense footman, who accompanies us in our + walks or drives, and condescends to open and shut our carriage-door for + us, with the air of a gentleman at leisure. I am rather inclined to think + that this gentleman has cast an approving eye upon me, as I heard him + observe to the housemaid the other day, that I was 'a reether hinterestin' + young party,' which mark of friendly notice has naturally cheered me on my + lonely way.” + </p> + <p> + Among the people who felt the change in the household keenly, Ralph Gowan + may assuredly be included. He missed Dolly as much as any of them did, but + he missed her in a different manner. He did not call quite as often as he + had been in the habit of doing, and when he did call he was more silent + and less entertaining. Dolly had always had an inspiring effect upon him, + and, lacking the influence of her presence, even Vagabondia lost something + of its charm. So sometimes he was guilty of the impoliteness of slipping + into half-unconscious reveries of a few minutes' duration, and, being thus + guilty upon one particular occasion, he was roused, after a short lapse of + time, through the magnetic influence of a pair of soft eyes fixed upon + him, which eyes he encountered the instant he looked up, with a start. + </p> + <p> + Mollie—the eyes were Mollie's—dropped her brown lashes with a + quick motion, turning a little away from him; so he smiled at her with a + sense of half-awakened appreciation. It was so natural to smile so at + Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mollie,” he said, “what ails us? We are not usually so dull. We have + not spoken to each other for ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The girl did not look at him; her round, childish cheek was flushed, and + her eyes were fixed on the fire, half proudly, half with a sort of + innocently transparent indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we have nothing worth saying to each other,” she said. “Everybody + is n't like Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly! He colored slightly, though he smiled again. How did she know he + was thinking of Dolly? Was it so patent a fact that even she could read it + in his face? It never occurred to him for an instant that there could + exist a reason why the eyes of this grown-up baby should be sharpened. She + was such a very baby, with her ready blushes and her pettish, lovely face. + </p> + <p> + “And so you miss Dolly, too?” he said. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply that she considered the + question superfluous. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” she answered; “and of course we all do. Dolly is the + sort of person likely to be missed.” + </p> + <p> + She was so petulant about it that, not understanding her, he was both + amused and puzzled, and so by degrees was drawn into making divers + gallant, almost caressing speeches, such as might have been drawn from him + by the changeful mood of a charming, wilful child. + </p> + <p> + “Something has made you angry,” he said. “What is it, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing has made me angry,” she replied. “I am not angry.” + </p> + <p> + “But you look angry,” he returned, “and how do you suppose I am to be + interesting when you look angry?” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot matter to you,” said Miss Mollie, “whether I am angry or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not matter!” he echoed, with great gravity. “It amounts to positive + cruelty. Just at this particular moment I feel as if I should never smile + again.” + </p> + <p> + She reddened to her very throat, and then turned round all at once, + flashing upon him such a piteous, indignant, indescribable glance as + almost startled him. + </p> + <p> + “You are making fun of me,” she cried out. “You always make fun of <i>me</i>. + You would n't talk so to Dolly.” And that instant she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + He was dumbfounded. He could not comprehend it at all. He had thought of + her as being so completely a child, that her troubles were never more than + a child's troubles, and her moods a child's moods. He had admired her, + too, as he would have admired her if she had been six years old, and he + had never spoken to her as he would have spoken to a woman, in the whole + course of their acquaintance. She was right in telling him that he would + not have said such things to Dolly. He was both concerned and touched. + What could he do but go to her and be dangerously penitent, and say a + great many things easily said, but not soon to be forgotten! Indeed, her + soft, nervous, passionate sobs, of which she was so much ashamed, her + innocent tremor, and her pretty, wilful disregard of his remorse were such + a new sensation to him, that it must be confessed he was not so discreet + as he should have been. + </p> + <p> + “You never speak so to Dolly,” she persisted, “nor to Aimée, either, and + Aimée is only two years older than I am. It is not my fault,” petulantly, + “that I am only seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Fault!” he repeated after her. “It is a very charming fault, if it is + one. Come, Mollie,” looking down at her with a tender softness in his + eyes, “make friends with me again,—we ought to be friends. See,—let + us shake hands!” + </p> + <p> + Of course she let him take her hand and hold it lightly for a moment as he + talked, his really honest remorse at his blunder making him doubly earnest + and so doubly dangerous. She had swept even Dolly out of his mind for the + time being, and she occupied his attention so fully for the rest of the + evening that he had not the time to be absent-minded again. In half an + hour all traces of her tears had fled, and she was sitting on her + footstool near him, accepting with such evident delight his efforts at + amusing her, that she quite repaid him for his trouble. + </p> + <p> + After this there seemed to be some connecting link between them. In + default of other attractions, he made headway with Mollie, and was to some + extent consoled. He talked to her when he made his visits, and it + gradually became an understood thing that they were very good friends. He + won her confidence completely,—so far, indeed, that she used to tell + him her troubles, and was ready to accept what meed of praise or friendly + blame he might think fit to bestow upon her. + </p> + <p> + It was a few weeks after the above-recorded episode that Griffith arrived + one afternoon, in some haste, with a note from Dolly addressed to Aimée, + and containing a few hurried lines. It had been enclosed in a letter to + himself. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat unexpectedly Miss MacDowlas had decided upon giving a + dinner-party, and Dolly wanted the white merino, which she had forgotten + to put into her trunk when she had packed it. Would they make a parcel of + it and send it by Mollie to Brabazon Lodge? + </p> + <p> + “You will have to go at once, Mollie,” said Aimée, after reading the note. + “It will be dark in an hour, and you ought not to be out after dark.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great deal nicer to be out then,” said Mollie, whose ideas of + propriety were by no means rigid. “I like to see the shop windows lighted + up. Where is my hat? Does anybody know?” rising from the carpet and + abandoning Tod to his own resources. + </p> + <p> + Nobody did know, of course. It was not natural that anybody should. Hats + and gloves and such small fry were generally left to provide quarters for + themselves in Bloomsbury Place. + </p> + <p> + “What is the use of bothering?” remarked Mrs. Phil, disposing of the + difficulty of their non-appearance when required, simply; “they always + turn up in time.” And in like manner Mollie's hat “turned up,” and in a + few minutes she returned to the parlor, tying the elastic under her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Your hair wants doing,” said Aimée, having made up her parcel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Mollie, contentedly, “Tod has been pulling himself up by + it; but it would be such a trouble to do anything to it just now, and I + can tuck it back in a bunch. It only looks a little fuzzy, and that 's + fashionable. Does this jacket look shabby, Aimée? It is a good thing it + has pockets in it. I always <i>did</i> like pockets in a jacket, they are + so nice to put your hands in when your gloves have holes in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your gloves oughtn't to have holes in them,” commented Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “But how can you help it if you have n't got the money to buy new ones?” + asked Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to mend them,” said the wise one. + </p> + <p> + “Mend them!” echoed Mollie, regarding two or three bare pink finger-tips + dubiously. “They are not worth mending.” + </p> + <p> + “They were once,” said Aimée; “and you ought to have stitched them before + it was too late. But that is always our way,” wrinkling her forehead with + her usual touch of old-young anxiousness. “We are not practical. There! + take the parcel and walk quickly, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + Once on the street, Mollie certainly obeyed her. With the parcel in one + arm, and with one hand thrust into the convenient pocket, she hurried on + her way briskly, not even stopping once to look at the shop windows. Quite + unconscious, too, was she of the notice she excited among the passers-by. + People even turned to look after her more than once, as indeed they often + did. The scarlet scarf twisted round her throat to hide the frayed jacket + collar, and the bit of scarlet mixed with the trimmings of her hat + contrasted artistically with her brown eyes, and added brightness to the + color on her cheeks. It was no wonder that men and women alike, in spite + of their business-like hurry, found time to glance at her and even turn + their heads over their shoulders to look backward, as she made her way + along the pavement. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark when she reached her destination, and Brabazon Lodge was + brilliantly lighted up,—so brilliantly, indeed, that when the heavy + front door was opened, in answer to her ring, she was a trifle dazzled by + the flood of brightness in which Dolly's friend, the “gentleman at + leisure,” seemed to stand. + </p> + <p> + On stating her errand, she was handed over to a female servant, who stood + in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “She was to be harsked in,” she heard the footman observe, confidentially, + to the young woman, “and taken to Miss Crewe's room immediate.” + </p> + <p> + So she was led up-stairs, and ushered into a pretty bedroom, where she + found Dolly sitting by the fire in a dressing-gown, with her hair about + her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She jumped up the moment Mollie entered, and ran to her, brush in hand, to + kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good child,” she said. “Come to the fire and sit down. Did you + have any trouble in finding the house? I was afraid you would. It was just + like me to forget the dress, and I never missed it until I began to look + for it, wanting to wear it to-night. How is Tod?” + </p> + <p> + “He has got another tooth,” said Mollie. “I found it to-day. Dolly,” + glancing round, “how nice your room is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dolly, checking a sigh, “but don't sigh after the + fleshpots of Egypt, Mollie. One does n't see the dullest side of life at + Bloomsbury Place, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it dull here?” asked Mollie. + </p> + <p> + Dolly shrugged her expressive shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Berlin-wool work is n't exciting,” she said. “How did you leave + Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + “Low-spirited,” replied Mollie. “I heard him tell Aimée this afternoon + that he could n't stand it much longer.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly began to brush her hair, and brushed it very much over her face, + perhaps because she wished to take advantage of its shadow; for most + assuredly Mollie caught sight of something sparkling amongst the abundant + waves almost like a drop of dew. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said at last, breaking the awkward little sympathetic silence + which naturally followed, “do you remember our reading the 'Vicar of + Wakefield'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, in a mournful half-whisper; she could not trust herself + to say more. + </p> + <p> + “And about the family being 'up,' and then being 'down'? I always think we + are like they were. First it is 'the family up,' and then 'the family + down.' It is down just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “It will be 'up' again, in time,” proceeded Mollie, sagaciously. “It + always is.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly tried to laugh, but her laugh was a nervous little effort which + broke off in another sound altogether. Berlin-wool work and Brabazon Lodge + had tried her somewhat and—she wanted Griffith. It seemed to her + just then such a far distant unreal Paradise,—that dream of the + modest parlor with the door shut against the world, and the green sofa + drawn near the fire. Were they ever to attain it, or were they to grow old + and tired out waiting, and hoping against hope? + </p> + <p> + She managed to rally, however, in a few minutes. Feeling discouraged and + rebellious was not of much use,—that was one of Vagabondia's + earliest learned lessons. And what good was there in making Mollie + miserable? So she plucked up spirit and began to talk, and, to her credit + be it said, succeeded in being fairly amusing, and made Mollie laugh + outright half a dozen times during the remainder of her short stay. It was + only a short stay, however. She remembered Aimée's warning at last, and + rose rather in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to walk quickly if I want to get home in time for tea,” she + said, “so good-night, Dolly. You had better finish dressing.” + </p> + <p> + “So I had,” answered Dolly. “I am behind time already, but I shall not be + many minutes, and Miss MacDowlas is not like Lady Augusta. Listen; I + believe I hear wheels at the door now. It must be later than I fancied.” + </p> + <p> + It was later than she fancied. As Mollie passed through the hall two + gentlemen who were ascending the steps crossed her path, and, seeing the + face of one who had not appeared to notice her presence, she started so + nervously that she dropped her glove. His companion—a handsome, + foreign-looking man—bent down and, picking it up, returned it to + her, with a glance of admiring scrutiny which made her more excited than + ever. She scarcely had the presence of mind to thank him, but rushed past + him and out into the night in a passionate flutter of pain and sudden + childish anger, inconsistent enough. + </p> + <p> + “He never saw me!” she said to herself, catching her breath piteously. “He + is going to see Dolly. It is n't the party he cares for, and it is n't + Miss MacDowlas,—it is nobody but Dolly. He has tried to get an + invitation just because—because he cares for Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She reached home in time for tea, arriving with so little breath and so + much burning color that they all stared at her, and Aimée asked her if she + had been frightened. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, “but I ran half the way because I wanted to be in + time.” + </p> + <p> + She did not talk at tea, and scarcely ate anything, and when Griffith came + in, at about nine o'clock, he found her lying on the sofa, flushed and + silent. She said she had a headache. + </p> + <p> + “I took Dolly her dress,” she said. “They are having a grand party and—Does + Miss MacDowlas know Mr. Gowan, Griffith?” + </p> + <p> + Griffith started and changed countenance at once. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “He was there,” she said, listlessly. “I met him in the hall as I came + out, but he did not see me. He must have tried to get an invitation + because—well, you know how he likes Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + And thus, the train having been already laid, was the spark applied. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING. + </h2> + <p> + IT was some time before Griffith recovered from the effects of this simple + announcement of Mollie's. + </p> + <p> + Though he scarcely confessed as much to himself, he thought of it very + much oftener than was conducive to his own peace of mind, and in thinking + of it he found it assuming a greater importance and significance than he + had at first recognized in it, and was influenced accordingly. He went + home to his lodgings, depressed and heavy of spirit; in fact, he left + Bloomsbury Place earlier than usual, because he longed to be alone. He + could think of nothing but Dolly,—Dolly in the white merino, shining + like a stray star among her employer's guests, and gladdening the eyes of + Ralph Gowan. He knew so well how she would look, and how this fellow would + follow her in his easy fashion, without rendering himself noticeable, and + manage to be near her through the evening and hold his place as if he had + a right to it, and he knew, too, how natural it would be for Dolly's eyes + to light up in her pleasure at being saved from boredom, and how her + innocent gladness would show itself in a score of pretty ways. And it was + as Mollie said,—it was for Dolly's sake that Ralph Gowan was there + to-night. + </p> + <p> + “She must know that it is so herself,” he groaned, dropping his head upon + the table; “but she cannot help it. She would if she could. Yes, I 'll + believe that. She could never be false to me. I must hold fast to that in + spite of everything. I should go mad if I did n't. I could never lose you, + Dolly,—I could never lose you!” + </p> + <p> + But he groaned again the next moment from the bottom of his desperate + heart. He had become tangled in yet another web of misery. + </p> + <p> + “It is only another proof of what I have said a thousand times,” he cried + out. “My claim upon her is so weak, that this fellow does not think it + worth regarding. He thinks it may be set aside,—they all think it + may be set aside. I should not wonder,” clenching his hand and speaking + through his teeth,—"I should not wonder if he has laughed many a + time at his fancy of how it will end, and how easy it will be to thrust + the old love to the wall!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, in the first rankling sting of humiliation and despair, he + could almost have struck a murderous blow at the man whom fortune had set + on such a pinnacle of pride and insolence, as it seemed to his galled + fancy. He was not in the mood to be either just or generous, and he saw in + Ralph Gowan nothing but a man who had both the power and will to rival + him, and rob him of peace and hope forever. If Dolly had been with him, in + all probability his wretchedness would have evaporated in a harmless + outburst, which would have touched the girl's heart so tenderly that she + would have withheld nothing of love and consolation which could reassure + him, and so in the end the tempest would have left no wound behind. But as + it was left to himself and his imaginings, every thought held its bitter + sting. He was, as it were, upon the brink of an abyss. + </p> + <p> + And while this danger was threatening her, Dolly was setting herself + steadfastly to her task of entertaining her employer's guests, though it + must be confessed that she found it necessary to summon all her energies. + She was thinking of Griffith, but not as Griffith was thinking of her. She + was picturing him looking desolate among the group round the fire at + Bloomsbury Place, or else working desperately and with unnecessary energy + amidst the dust and gloom of the dimly lighted office; and the result was + that her spirit almost failed. It was quite a relief to encounter Ralph + Gowan, as she did, on entering the room: he had seen them all latterly, + and could enter into particulars; and so, in her pleasure, it must be + owned that her face brightened, just as Griffith had fancied it would, + when she shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear that you were coming,” she said. “How glad I am!” which + was the most dangerous speech she could have made under the circumstances, + since it was purely on her account that he had diplomatized to obtain the + invitation. + </p> + <p> + He did not find it easy to release her hand all at once, and certainly he + lighted up also. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me tell you that it was not Miss MacDowlas who brought me + here?” he said, in a low voice; “though I appreciate her kindness, as a + grateful man ought. Vagabondia is desolate without you.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to laugh, but could not; her attempt broke off in the + unconscious sigh, which always touched him, he scarcely knew why. + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” she said, looking up at him without a bit of the old brightness. + “Don't tell them, Mr. Gowan, but the fact is I am desolate without it. I + want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + He felt his heart leap suddenly, and before he could check himself he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I wish—I <i>wish</i>,” he said, “that you would let me take you + home.” And the simply sounding words embodied a great deal more of tender + fancy than a careless observer would have imagined; and Dolly, recognizing + the thrill in his voice, was half startled. + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head, and managed to smile. + </p> + <p> + “That is not wisdom,” she said. “It savors of the lilies of the field. We + cannot quarrel with our bread and butter for sentiment's sake in + Vagabondia. Did you know that Mollie had paid me a visit this evening?—or + perhaps you saw her; I think she went out as you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” he said, surprisedly; and then looking half annoyed, or at least + a trifle disturbed, he added, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, + “then it was Mollie, Chandos spoke of.” + </p> + <p> + “Chandos!” echoed Dolly. “Who is Chandos—and what did Chandos say + about Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + He glanced across the room to where a tall, handsome man was bending over + a fussy little woman in pink. + </p> + <p> + “That is Chandos,” he said; “and since you spoke of Mollie's visit, I + recollect that, as we came into the house, Chandos was behind me and + lingered a moment or so, and when he came to me afterward he asked if I + had seen the face that passed us as we entered. It had roused his + enthusiasm as far as it can be roused by anything.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been Mollie,” commented Dolly, and she looked at the man on + the opposite side of the room, uneasily. “Is he a friend of yours?” she + asked, after scrutinizing him for a few seconds. + </p> + <p> + Gowan shrugged his shoulders.' + </p> + <p> + “Not a friend,” he answered, dryly. “An acquaintance. We have not much in + common.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” was Dolly's return. “I don't like Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + She could not have explained why she did not like him, but certainly she + was vaguely repelled and could not help hoping that he would never see + Mollie again. He was just the man to be dangerous to Mollie; handsome, + polished, ready of speech and perfect in manner, he was the sort of man to + dazzle and flatter any ignorant, believing child. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, half aloud, “I could not bear to think that he would + see her again.” + </p> + <p> + She uttered the words quite involuntarily, but Gowan heard them, and + looked at her in some surprise, and so awakened her from her reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Are you speaking of Mollie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, candidly, “though I did not mean to speak aloud. My + thoughts were only a mental echo of the remark I made a moment ago,—that + I don't like Chandos. I do not like him at all, even at this distance, and + I cannot resist feeling that I do not want him to see anything more of + Mollie. We are not very discreet, we Vagabonds, but we must learn wisdom + enough to shield Mollie.” And she sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “I understand that,” he said, almost tenderly, so sympathetically, in + fact, that she turned toward him as if moved by a sudden impulse. + </p> + <p> + “I have sometimes thought since I came here,” she said, “that perhaps <i>you</i> + might help me a little, if you would. She is so pretty, you see, and so + young, and, through knowing so little of the world and longing to know so + much, in a childish, half-dazzled way, is so innocently wilful that she + would succumb to a novel influence more readily than to an old one. So I + have thought once or twice of asking you to watch her a little, and guard + her if—if you should ever see her in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I can promise to do that much, at least,” he returned, smiling. + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand impetuously, just as she would have held it out to + Griffith, and, oh, the hazard of it,—the hazard of so throwing aside + her mock airs and graces, and showing herself to him just as she showed + herself to the man she loved,—the Dolly whose heart was on her lips + and whose soul was in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then we will make a 'paction' of it,” she said. “You will help me to take + care of her.” + </p> + <p> + “For your sake,” he said, “there are few things I would not do.” + </p> + <p> + So from that time forward he fell into the habit of regarding unsuspecting + Mollie as his own special charge. He was so faithful to his agreement, + indeed, that once or twice Griffith was almost ready to console himself + with the thought that perhaps, after all, the child's beauty and + tractability would win its way, and Gowan would find himself seriously + touched at heart. Just now he could see that his manner was scarcely that + of a lover, but there most assuredly was a probability that it might alter + and become more warm and less friendly and platonic. As to Mollie herself, + she was growing a trifle incomprehensible; she paid more attention to her + lovely hair than she had been in the habit of doing, and was even known to + mend her gloves; she began to be more conscious of the dignity of her + seventeen years. She complained less petulantly of the attentions of + Phil's friends, and accepted them with a better grace. The wise one even + observed that she tolerated Brown, the obnoxious, and permitted him to + admire her—at a distance. In her intercourse with Gowan she was + capricious and had her moods. Sometimes she indulged in the weakness of + tiring herself in all her small bravery when he was coming, and presented + herself in the parlor beauteous and flushed and conscious, and was so + delectably shy and sweet that she betrayed him into numerous trifling + follies not at all consistent with his high position of mentor; and then, + again, she was obstinate, rather incomprehensible, and did not adorn + herself at all, and, indeed, was hard enough to manage. + </p> + <p> + “You are growing very queer, Mollie,” said Miss Aimée, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + To which sage remark Mollie retorted with a tremulous, sensitive flush, + and most unnecessary warmth of manner. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm not queer at all I wish you would n't bother so, Aimée!” + </p> + <p> + That very afternoon she came into the room with a card in her hand, after + going out to answer a summons at the door-bell. + </p> + <p> + “Phil,” she said, “a gentleman wants you. Chandos, the card says.” + </p> + <p> + “Chandos!” read Phil, rising from the comfort of his couch, and taking his + pipe out of his mouth. “Who knows Chandos?—I don't. It must be some + fellow on business.” + </p> + <p> + And so it proved. He found the gentleman awaiting him in the next room, + and in a very short time learned his errand. Chandos introduced himself—Gerald + Chandos, of The Pools, Bedfordshire, who, hearing of Mr. Crewe through + numerous friends, not specified, and having a fancy—quite the fancy + of an uncultured amateur, modestly—for pictures and an absorbing + passion for art in all its forms, had taken the liberty of calling, etc. + It was very smoothly said, and Chandos, of The Pools, being an imposing + patrician sort of individual, and free from all fopperies or affectations, + Phil met his advances complacently enough. It was no unusual thing for an + occasional patron to drop in after this manner. He had no fault to find + with a man who, having the good fortune to possess money, had the good + taste to know how to spend it. So he made friends with Chandos, pretty + much as he had made friends with Gowan,—pretty much as he would have + made friends with any other sufficiently amiable and well-bred visitor to + his modest studio. He showed him his pictures, and talked art to him, and + managed to spend an hour very pleasantly, ending by selling him a couple + of tiny spirited sketches, which had taken his fancy. It was when he was + taking down these sketches from the wall that he heard a sort of smothered + exclamation from the man, who stood a few feet apart from him, and, + turning to see what it meant, he saw that he had just discovered the + fresh, lovely, black-hooded head, with the trail of autumn leaves clinging + to the loose trail of hair,—the picture for which Mollie had sat as + model. It was very evident that Chandos, of The Pools, was admiring it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, the next minute. “I know this face. There can scarcely be + two faces like it.” + </p> + <p> + Phil left his sketches and came to him, the pleasure he felt on the + success of his creation warming him up. This picture, with Mollie's face + and head, was a great favorite of his. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, standing opposite to it, with his hands in his pockets, + and critical appreciation in his eyes. “You could not very well mistake + it. Heads are not my exact forte, you know; but that is Mollie to a tint + and a curve, and I am rather proud of it.” + </p> + <p> + Chandos regarded it steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “And well you may be,” he answered. “Your sister, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” exclaimed Phil, stepping a trifle aside, to get into a better + light, and speaking almost abstractedly. “Oh, yes, to be sure! She is my + sister,—the youngest. There are three of them. That flesh tint is + one of the best points.” + </p> + <p> + And in the meantime, while this apparently trivial conversation was being + carried on in the studio, Mollie, in the parlor, had settled herself upon + a stool close to the fire, and, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow + on her knee, was looking reflective. + </p> + <p> + “That Chandos is somebody new,” 'Toinette remarked. “I hope he has come to + buy something. I want some gold sleeve-loops for Tod. I saw some beauties + the other day, when I was out.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could n't afford them if Phil sold two pictures instead of one,” + said Aimée. “There are so many other useful things you need.” + </p> + <p> + “He is n't a stranger to me,” put in Mollie, suddenly. “I have seen him + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said 'Toinette. She was thinking more of Tod's gold sleeve-loops + than of anything else. + </p> + <p> + “This Mr. Chandos,” answered Mollie, without looking up from the fire. “I + saw him at Brabazon Lodge the night I went to take Dolly her dress. He was + with Mr. Gowan, and I dropped my glove, and he picked it up for me. I was + coming out as they were going in.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Aimée, “whether Mr. Gowan goes to Brabazon Lodge often?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I 'm sure,” answered Mollie, shrugging her shoulder. “How + is one to learn? He would n't be likely to tell us. I should think, + though, that he does. He is too fond of Dolly"—with a slight choke + in her voice—"to stay away, if he can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's queer,” commented 'Toinette, “how men like Dolly. She is n't a + beauty, I 'm sure; and for the matter of that, when her hair is n't done + up right, she is n't even pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't queer, at all,” said Mollie, rather crossly; “it's her way. She + can make such a deal out of nothing, and she does n't stand at trouble + when she wants to <i>make</i> people like her. <i>She</i> says any one can + do it, and it is only a question of patience; but I don't believe her. See + how frantic Griffith is about her. He is more desperately in love with her + to-day than he was at the very first, seven years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And she cares more for him, I'm sure,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + Mollie's shoulder went up again. “She flirts with people enough, if she + does,” she commented. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” returned Aimée, “that is 'her way,' as you call it, again. Somehow, + it seems as if she can't help it. It is as natural to her as the color of + her hair and eyes. She can't help doing odd things and making speeches + that rouse people and tempt them into liking her. She has done such things + all her life, and sometimes I think she will do them even when she is an + old woman; though, of course, she will do them in a different way. Dolly + would n't be Dolly without her whimsicalness, any more than Dick there, in + his cage, would be a canary if he did n't twitter and sing.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she ever do such things to women?” asked Miss Mollie, shrewdly. She + seemed to be in a singular mood this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Aimée protested, “she does; and what is more, she is not different + even with children. I have seen her take just as much trouble to please + Phemie and the little Bilberrys as she would take to please Griffith or—or + Mr. Gowan. And see how fond they were of her. If she had cared for nothing + but masculine admiration, do you think Phemie would have adored her as she + did, and those dull children would have been so desolate when she left + them? No, I tell you. Dolly's weakness—and it isn't such a very + terrible weakness, after all—lies in wanting <i>everybody</i> to + like her,—men, women, and children; yes, down to babies and dogs and + cats. And see here, Mollie, ain't we rather fond of her ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” owned Mollie, staring at the fire, “we are. Fond enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And is n't she rather fond of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is—for the matter of that,” acquiesced Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” began 'Toinette, and then, the sound of footsteps upon the + staircase interrupting her, she broke off abruptly to listen. “It is + Phil's visitor,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mollie got up from her seat, roused into a lazy sort of interest. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to look at him,” she said, and went to the window. + </p> + <p> + The next minute she drew back, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “He saw me,” she said. “I did n't think he could, if I stood here in the + corner.” + </p> + <p> + But he had; and more than that, in his admiration of her dimples and round + fire-flushed cheeks, had smiled into her face, openly and without stint, + as he passed. + </p> + <p> + After tea Gowan came in. Mollie opened the door for him; and Mollie, in a + soft blue dress, and with her hair dressed to a marvel, was a vision to + have touched any man's fancy. She was in one of her sweet acquiescent + moods, too, having recovered herself since the afternoon; and when she led + him into the parlor, she blushed without any reason whatever, as usual, + and as a consequence looked enchanting. + </p> + <p> + “Phil has gone out,” she said. “'Toinette is putting Tod to bed, and Aimée + is helping her; so there is no one here but me.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan sat down—in Dolly's favorite chair. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite enough,” he said; “quite enough—for me.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away, making a transparent little pretence of requiring a + hand-screen from the mantelpiece, and, having got it, she too sat down, + and fell to examining a wretched little daub of a picture upon it most + minutely. + </p> + <p> + “This is very badly done,” she observed, irrelevantly. “Dolly did it, and + made it up elaborately into this screen because it was such a sight. It is + just like Dolly, to make fun and joke at her own mistakes. She has n't a + particle of talent for drawing. She did this once when Griffith thought he + was going to get into something that would bring him money enough to allow + of their being married. She made a whole lot of little mats and things to + put in their house when they got it, but Griffith did n't get the + position, so they had to settle down again.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” ejaculated Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He moved a trifle uneasily in his chair. He had not meant to speak aloud. + </p> + <p> + “An unintentional outburst, Mollie,” he said. “A cheerful state of + affairs, that.” + </p> + <p> + “What state of affairs?” she inquired. “Oh, you mean Dolly's engagement. + Well, of course, it <i>has</i> been a long one; but then, you see, they + like each other very much. Aimée was only saying this afternoon that they + cared for each other more now than they did at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they?” said Gowan, and for the time being lapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + “It's a cross-grained sort of fortune that seems to control us in this + world, Mollie,” he said, at length. + </p> + <p> + Mollie stared at the poor little daub on her hand-screen and met his + philosophy indifferently enough. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> ought n't to say so,” she answered. “And I don't know anything + about it.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed—quite savagely for so amiable a young man. + </p> + <p> + “I!” he repeated. “I ought not to say so, ought n't I? I think I ought. It + <i>is</i> a cross-grained fortune, Mollie. We are always falling in love + with people who do not care for us, or with people who care for some one + else, or with people who are too poor to marry us, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for yourself,” said Mollie, with a vigor quite wonderful and new in + her. “<i>I</i> am not.” + </p> + <p> + And she held her screen up between her face and his, so that he could not + see her. She could have burst into a passionate gush of tears. It was + Dolly he was thinking about,—it was Dolly who had the power to make + him unhappy and sardonic,—always Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a wise child, Mollie,” he said. “But you are a very young + child yet,—only seventeen, is n't it? Well, it may all come in good + time.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not come at all,” she asserted, stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + Dolly's little wretch of a hand-screen was quite trembling in her hand, it + made her so desperate to feel, as she did, that she was of such small + consequence to him that he could treat her as a child, and make a sort of + joke of his confidence. But he did not see it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well, you see,” he went on, “I thought so once, but it has come to me + nevertheless. The fact is, I am crying for the moon, Mollie, as many a + wiser and better man has done before me.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, so he rose and walked once or twice across the room. + When he came back to the fire, she had risen too, and was standing up, + biting the edge of her screen, all flushed, and with a brightness in her + eyes he did not understand. Poor little soul! she was suffering very + sharply in her childish way. + </p> + <p> + He laid a hand on either of her shoulders, and spoke to her gently enough. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “let us sit down together and condole with each other. + You are not in a good humor to-night, something has rasped you again; and + as for me, I am about as miserable, my dear, as it is possible for a man + with a few thousand a year to be.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to answer him steadily, and, finding she could not, rushed into + novel subterfuge. Subterfuge was a novelty to Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, lifting the most beauteous of tear-wet eyes to his quite + eagerly. “Yes, I am crossed, and—and something has vexed me. I am + getting bad-tempered, I think. Suppose we do sit down.” + </p> + <p> + And then when they did sit down—she on the hearth-rug at his feet, + he in Dolly's chair again—she broke out upon him in a voice like a + sharp little sob. + </p> + <p> + “I know what <i>you</i> are miserable about,” she said. “You are miserable + about Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + They had never spoken about the matter openly before, though he had always + felt that if he could speak openly to any one, he could to this charming + charge of his. Such is the keenness of masculine penetration. And now he + felt almost relieved already. The natural craving for sympathy of some + kind or other was to satisfy itself through the medium of pretty, + much-tried Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, half desperately, half reluctantly. “Dolly is the moon + I am crying for,—or rather, as I might put it more poetically, 'the + bright particular star.' What a good little thing you are to guess at it + so soon!” + </p> + <p> + “It did n't need much guessing at,” she said, curving her innocent mouth + in a piteous effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + He, leaning against the round, padded back of his chair, sighed, and as he + sighed almost forgot the poor child altogether, even while she spoke to + him. Having all things else, he must still cry for this one other gift, + and really he felt very dolorous. + </p> + <p> + Mollie, pulling her screen to pieces, looked at him with a heavy yet + adoring heart. She was young enough to be greatly moved by his physical + beauty, and just now she could not turn away from him. His long-limbed, + slender figure (which, while still graceful and lithe enough, was <i>not</i> + a model of perfection, as she fondly imagined), his pale, dark face, his + dark eyes, even his rather impolite and uncomplimentary abstraction, held + fascination for her. Not having been greatly smiled upon by fortune, she + had fallen to longing eagerly and fearfully for this one gift which had + been so freely vouchsafed to Dolly, who had neither asked nor cared for + it. Surely there was some cross-grained fate at work. + </p> + <p> + She was very quiet indeed when he at length recollected himself and roused + from his reverie. He looked up to find her resting her warm, rose-leaf + colored cheek on her hand, and concentrating all her attention upon the + fire again. She was not inclined to talk when he spoke to her, and indeed + had so far shrunk within herself that he found it necessary to exert his + powers to their utmost before he could move her to anything like interest + in their usual topics of conversation. In fact, her reserve entailed the + necessity of a little hazardous warmth of manner being exhibited on his + part, and in the end a few more dangerous, though half-jocular, speeches + were made, and in spite of the temporary dissatisfaction of his previous + mood, he felt a trifle reluctant to leave the fire and the sweet, unwise + face when the time came to go. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” he said to her, a few minutes before he went out. And then, + noticing for the twentieth time how becoming the soft blue of her dress + was and how picturesque she was herself even in the unconsciousness of her + posture, he was tempted to try to bring that little, half-resentful glow + into her upraised eyes again. + </p> + <p> + “I have often heard your sister make indiscreetly amiable speeches to you, + Mollie,” he said. “Did she ever tell you that you ought to have been born + a sultana?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and pouted a little. + </p> + <p> + “I should n't like to be a sultana,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Not a sultana in spangled slippers and gorgeous + robes!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, with a spice of Dolly in her speech. “The slippers are + great flat things that turn up at the toes, and the sultan might buy me + for so much a pound, and—and I care for other things besides dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” he returned, “you would have made a dazzling sultana.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went away and left her, and she sat down upon her stool before the + fire again and began to pull her hair down and let it hang in grand + disorder about her shoulders and over her face. + </p> + <p> + “If I am so—so pretty,” she said slowly, to herself, “people ought + to like me, and,” sagaciously, “I must be pretty or he would not say so.” + </p> + <p> + And when she went to her room it must be confessed that she crept to the + glass and stared at the reflection of the face framed in the abundant, + falling hair, until Aimée, wondering at her quietness, raised her head + from her pillow, and, seeing her, called her to her senses. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, in her quietest way, “you look very nice, my dear and + very picturesque, and I don't wonder at your admiring yourself; but if you + stand there much longer in your bare feet you will have influenza, and + then you will have to wear a flannel round your throat, and your nose will + be red, and you won't derive much satisfaction from your looking-glass for + a week to come.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX. + </h2> + <p> + “SOMETHING,” announced Phil, painting away industriously at his picture,—"something + is up with Grif. Can any of you explain what it is?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, resting her elbows on the window-ledge, turned her head over her + shoulder; 'Toinette, tying Tod's sleeves with red ribbon, looked up; Aimée + went on with her sewing, the two little straight lines making themselves + visible on her forehead between her eyebrows. The fact of something being + “up” with any one of their circle was enough to create a wondering + interest. + </p> + <p> + “There is no denying,” Phil proceeded, “that he is changed somehow or + other. He is not the same fellow that he was a few months ago,—before + Dolly went away.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Dolly he is bothering about,” said Mollie, concisely. + </p> + <p> + Then Aimée was roused. + </p> + <p> + “I wish they were married,” she said. “I wish they were married and—safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” put in Mrs. Phil. “That is a queer thing to say. They are not in + any danger, let us devoutly hope.” + </p> + <p> + The two wrinkles deepened, and the wise one sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” she answered, bending her small, round, anxious face over + her sewing, and attacking it vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “They never struck me, you know,” returned Mrs. Phil, “as being a + particularly dangerous couple, though now I think of it I do remember that + it has once or twice occurred to me that Griffith has been rather stupid + lately.” + </p> + <p> + “It has occurred to me,” remarked Phil, dryly, “that he has taken a most + unaccountable dislike to Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie turned round to her window again. + </p> + <p> + “Not to put it too strongly,” continued the head of the family, “he hates + him like the deuce.” + </p> + <p> + And he was not far wrong in making the assertion. The time had been coming + for some time when the course of this unimposing story of true love was no + longer to run smooth, and in these days Griffith was in a dangerous frame + of mind. Now and then he heard of Gowan dropping in to spend a few hours + at Brabazon Lodge, and now and then he heard of his good fortune in having + found in Miss MacDowlas a positive champion. He was even a favorite with + her, just as he was a favorite with many other people. Griffith did not + visit Brabazon Lodge himself, he had given that up long ago, indeed had + only once paid his respects to his relative since her arrival in London. + That one visit, short and ceremonious as it was, had been enough for him. + Like many estimable ladies, Miss MacDowlas had prejudices of her own which + were hard to remove, and appearances had been against her nephew. + </p> + <p> + “If he is living a respectable life, and so engaged in a respectable + profession, my dear,” commented Dolly's proprietress, in one of her after + conversations on the subject, “why does he look shabby and out at elbows? + It is my opinion that he is a very disreputable young man.” + </p> + <p> + “She thinks,” wrote Dolly to the victim, “that you waste your substance in + riotous living.” And it was such an exquisite satire on the true state of + affairs, that even Griffith forgot his woes for the moment, and laughed + when he read the letter. + </p> + <p> + Dolly herself was not prone to complain of Miss MacDowlas. She was not so + bad as she looked, after all. She was obstinate and rigid enough on some + points, but she had her fairer side, and Dolly found it. In a fashion of + her own Miss MacDowlas was rather fond of her companion. A girl who was + shrewd, industrious, and often amusing, was not to be despised in her + opinion; so she showed her fair young handmaiden a certain amount of + respect. She had engaged companions before, who being entertaining were + not trustworthy, or being trustworthy were insufferably dull. She could + trust Dolly with the most onerous of her domestic or social charges, she + found, and there was no fear of her small change disappearing or her + visitors being bored. So the position of that “young person” became an + assured and decently comfortable one. + </p> + <p> + But, day by day, Griffith was drifting nearer and nearer the old shoals of + difficulty. He rasped himself with miserable imaginings, and was often + unjust even toward Dolly. Hers was the brighter side of the matter, he + told himself. + </p> + <p> + She was sure to find friends,—she always did, these people would + make a sort of favorite of her, and she would be pleased because she was + so popular among them. He could not bear the thought of her ephemeral + happiness over trifles sometimes. He even fell so low as that at his worst + moments, though to his credit, be it spoken, he was always thoroughly + ashamed of himself afterward. There were times, too, when he half resented + her little jokes at their poverty, and answered them bitterly when he + wrote his replies to her letters. His chief consolation he found in Aimée, + and the sage of the family found her hands fuller than ever. Quiet little + body as she was, she was far-sighted enough to see danger in the distance, + and surely she did her best to alter its course. + </p> + <p> + “If you are not cooler,” she would say, “you will work yourself into such + a fever of unhappiness, that you will be doing something you will regret.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I am afraid of,” he would sometimes burst forth; “but you + must admit, Aimée, that it is a pretty hard case.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” confessed the young oracle, “I will admit that, but being + unreasonable won't make it any easier.” + </p> + <p> + And then the fine little lines would show themselves, and she would set + herself industriously to the task of administering comfort and practical + advice, and she never failed to cheer him a little, however temporarily. + </p> + <p> + And she did not fail Dolly, either. Sage axioms and praiseworthy counsel + reached Brabazon Lodge in divers small envelopes, addressed to Miss Crewe, + and invariably beginning, “My dearest Dolly;” and more than once + difficulty had been averted, and Dolly's heart warmed again toward her + lover, when she had been half inclined to rebel and exhibit some slight + sharpness of temper. Only a few days after the conversation with which the + present chapter opens occurred, one of these modestly powerful missives + was forwarded, and that evening Griffith met with an agreeable surprise. + Chance had taken him into the vicinity of Miss MacDowlas's establishment, + and as he walked down the deserted road in a somewhat gloomy frame of + mind, he became conscious suddenly of the sound of small, light feet, + running rapidly down the footpath behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Griffith!” cried a clear, softly pitched voice, “Griffith, wait for me.” + </p> + <p> + And, turning, he saw in the dusk of the winter day a little figure almost + flying toward him, and in a few seconds more Dolly was standing by him, + laughing and panting, and holding to his arm with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should never catch you,” she said. “You never walked so fast + in your life, I believe, you stupid old fellow. I could n't call out loud, + though it is a quiet place, and so I had to begin to run. Goodness! what + <i>would</i> Lady Augusta have said if she had seen me flying after you!” + </p> + <p> + And then, stopping all at once, she looked up at him with a wicked little + air of saucy daring. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to kiss me?” she said. “You may, if you will endeavor to + effect it with despatch before somebody comes.” + </p> + <p> + She was obliged to resign herself to her fate then. For nearly two minutes + she found herself rendered almost invisible, and neither of them spoke. + Then half released, she lifted her face to look at him, and there were + tears on her eyelashes, and in her voice, too, though she was trying very + hard to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old fellow,” she half whispered. “Has it seemed long since you + kissed me last?” + </p> + <p> + He caught her to his breast again in his old, impetuous fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Long!” he groaned. “It has seemed so long that there have been times when + it has almost driven me mad. O Dolly! Dolly!” + </p> + <p> + She let him crush her in his arms and kiss her again, and she nestled + against his shoulder for a minute, and, putting her warm little gloved + hand up to his face, gave it a tiny, loving squeeze. But of course that + could not last long. Miss Macdowlas's companion might be kissed in the + dusk two or three times, but, genteelly sequestered as was the road + leading to Brabazon Lodge, some stray footman or housemaid might appear on + the scene, from some of the neighboring establishments, at any moment, so + she was obliged to draw herself away at last. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said, “you must let me take your arm and walk on now, and you + must tell me all about things. I have a few minutes to spare, and I have + <i>so</i> wanted you,” heaving a weary little sigh, and holding his arm + very tightly indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he asked, abruptly, “are you sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + The other small hand clasped itself across his sleeve in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Sure?” she answered. “Sure that I have wanted you? I have been nearly <i>dying</i> + for you!” with some affectionate extravagance. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure,” he put it to her, “quite sure that you have not sometimes + forgotten me for an hour or so?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, indignantly, “not for a single second;” which was a + wide assertion. + </p> + <p> + “Not,” he prompted her, somewhat bitterly, “when the MacDowlas gives + dinner-parties, and you find yourself a prominent feature, 'young person,' + as you are? Not when you wear the white merino, and 'heavy swells' admire + you openly?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” shaking her head in stout denial of the imputation. “Never. I think + about you from morning until night; and the fact is,” in a charming burst + of candor, “I actually wake in the night and think about you. There! are + you satisfied now?” + </p> + <p> + It would have been impossible to remain altogether unconsoled and unmoved + under such circumstances, but he could not help trying her again. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “does Gowan never make you forget me?” + </p> + <p> + Then she saw what he meant, and flushed up to her forehead, drawing her + hand away and speaking hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “it is <i>that</i>, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered her, “it is that.” + </p> + <p> + Then they stopped in their walk, and each looked at the other,—Griffith + at Dolly, with a pale face and much of desperate, passionate appeal in his + eyes; Dolly at Griffith, with her small head thrown back in sudden + defiance. + </p> + <p> + “I am making you angry and rousing you, Dolly,” he said; “but I cannot + help it. There is scarcely a week passes in which I do not hear that he—that + fellow—has managed to see you in one way or another. He can always + see you,” savagely. “<i>I</i> don't see you once a month.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dolly, with cruel deliberation, “<i>this</i> is what Aimée + meant when she told me to be careful, and think twice before I did things. + I see now.” + </p> + <p> + I have never yet painted Dolly Crewe as being a young person of angelic + temperament. I have owned that she flirted and had a temper in spite of + her Vagabondian good spirits, good-nature, and popularity; so my readers + will not be surprised at her resenting rather sharply what she considered + as being her lover's lack of faith. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she proceeded, opening her eyes wide and addressing him with + her grandest air,—"I think I will walk the rest of my way alone, if + you please.” + </p> + <p> + It was very absurd and very tragical in a small way, of course, and + assuredly she ought to have known better, and perhaps she did know better, + but just now she was very fierce and very sharply disappointed. She + positively turned away as if to leave him, but he caught hold of her arm + and held her. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he cried, huskily, “you are not going away in that fashion. We + never parted so in our lives.” + </p> + <p> + She half relented,—not quite, but nearly, so very nearly that she + did not try very hard to get away. It was Griffith, after all, who was + trying her patience—if Gowan or any other man on earth had dared to + imply a doubt in her, she would have routed him magnificently—in two + minutes; but Griffith—ah, well, Griffith was different. + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault is it?” she asked, breaking down ignominiously. “Who is to + blame? I never ask you if other people make you forget me. I wanted to—to + see you so much that I—I ran madly after you for a quarter of a + mile, at the risk of being looked upon as a lunatic by any one who might + have chanced to see me. But you don't care for that. I had better have + bowed to you and passed on if we had met. Let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Griffith, “you shall not go. God knows if I could keep you, you + should never leave my arms again.” + </p> + <p> + “You would tire of me in a week, if I belonged to you in real earnest,” + she said, not trying to get away at all now, however. + </p> + <p> + “Tire of you!” he exclaimed, in a shaken voice. “Of <i>you!</i>” And all + at once he drew her round so that the light of the nearest lamp could fall + on her face. “Look here!” he whispered, sharply; “Dolly, I swear to you, + that if there lives a man on earth base and heartless enough to rob me of + you, I will kill him as sure as I breathe the breath of life!” + </p> + <p> + She had seen him impassioned enough often before, but she had never seen + him in as wild a mood as he was when he uttered these words. She was so + frightened that she broke into a little cry, and put her hand up to his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Griffith!” she said, “Grif!—dear old fellow. You don't know what + you are saying. Oh! don't—don't!” + </p> + <p> + Her horror brought him to his senses again; but he had terrified her so + that she was trembling all over, and clung to him nervously when he tried + to console her. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't like <i>you</i> to speak in such a way,” she faltered, in the + midst of her tears. “Oh, how dreadfully wrong things must be getting, to + make you so cruel!” + </p> + <p> + It took so long a time to reassure and restore her to her calmness, that + he repented his rashness a dozen times. But he managed to comfort her at + length, though to the last she was tearful and dejected, and her voice was + broken with soft, sorrowful little catchings of the breath. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us talk about Ralph Gowan,” she pleaded, when he had persuaded + her to walk on with him again. “Let us talk about ourselves,—we are + always safe when we talk about ourselves,” with an innocent, mournful + smile. + </p> + <p> + And so they talked about themselves. He would have talked of anything on + earth to please her then. Talking of themselves, of course, implied + talking nonsense,—affectionate, sympathetic nonsense, but still + nonsense; and so, for a while, they strolled on together, and were as + tenderly foolish and disconnected as two people could possibly be. + </p> + <p> + But, in spite of her resolution to avoid the subject, Dolly could not help + drifting back to Ralph Gowan. “Griffith,” she said, plaintively, “you are + very jealous of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “But don't you <i>know</i>,” in desperate appeal, “that there is n't the + slightest need for you to be jealous of anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he returned, dejectedly, “that I am a very wretched fellow + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” sighed Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he went on, “that seven years is a long probation, and that the + prospect of another seven, or another two, for the matter of that, would + drive me mad. I know I am growing envious and distrustful; I know that + there are times when I hate that fellow so savagely that I am ashamed of + myself. Dolly, what has he ever done that he should saunter on the sunny + side, clad in purple and fine linen all his life? The money he throws away + in a year would furnish the house at Putney.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” burst forth Dolly. “You <i>are</i> going wrong. It is all + because I am not there to take care of you, too. Those are not the + sentiments of Vagabondia, Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” dryly; “they are of the earth, earthy.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shook her head dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she acquiesced; “and they are a bit shabby, too. You are going + down, Grif. You never used to be shabby. None of us were ever exactly + that, though we used to grumble sometimes. We used to grumble, not because + other people had things, but because we had n't them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am getting hardened, I suppose,” bitterly. “And it is hardly to be + wondered at.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardened!” She stopped him that moment, and stood before him, holding his + arm and looking up at him. “Hardened!” she repeated. “Grif, if you say + that again, I will never forgive you. What is the good of our love for + each other if it won't keep our hearts soft? When we get hardened we shall + love each other no longer. What have we told each other all these years? + Have n't we said that so long as we had one another we could bear + anything, and not envy other people? It was n't all talk and sentiment, + was it? It was n't on <i>my</i> part, Grif. I meant it then, and I mean it + now, though I know there are many good, kind-hearted people in the world + who would not understand it, and would say I was talking unpractical + rubbish, if they heard me. Hardened! Grif, while you have me, and I have + you, and there is nothing on our two consciences? Why, it sounds,"—with + another most dubious shake of her small head,—"it sounds as if you + would n't care about the house at Putney!” + </p> + <p> + He was conquered, of course; before she had spoken a dozen words he had + been conquered; but this figure of his not caring for the house at Putney + broke him utterly. He did not look very hardened when he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” he said, “you are an angel! I have told you so before, and it may + be a proof of the barrenness of my resources to tell you so again, but it + is true. God forgive me, my precious! I should like to see the man whose + heart could harden while such a woman loved him.” + </p> + <p> + It was a pretty sight to see her put her hands on his shoulders, and stand + on tiptoe to kiss him, in her honest, earnest way, without waiting for him + to ask her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “I knew it wasn't true,” and then, still letting her hands + rest on his shoulders, she burst forth in her tender, impulsive way again. + “Grif,” she said, “I don't think I am very wise, and I know I am not very + thoughtful. I do things often that it would be better to leave undone,—I + am fond of making the Philistines admire me, and I sometimes tease you; + but, dear old fellow, right deep down at the bottom of my heart,” + faltering slightly, “I do—<i>do</i> want to be a good woman; and + there is never a night passes—though I never told you so before—that + I do not pray to God to let me help you and let you help me to be tender + and faithful and true.” + </p> + <p> + It was the old story,—love was king. Wisdom to the winds! + Practicality to the corners of the earth! Prudence, power, and grandeur, + hide your diminished heads! Here were two people who cared nothing for + you, and who flung you aside without a fear as they stood together under + the trees in the raw evening air,—one a penniless little hired + entertainer of elderly ladies, the other an equally impecunious bondsman + in a dingy office. + </p> + <p> + They were quite happy,—even happy when time warned them that they + must bid each other goodnight. They walked together to the gates of + Barbazon Lodge, and parted in a state of bliss. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Dolly. “Be good,—as somebody wise once said,—'Be + good, and you will be happy.'” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” answered Griffith; “but might n't he have put it the other + way, Dolly, 'Be happy, and you will be good—because you can't help + it'?” + </p> + <p> + He had his hand on <i>her</i> shoulder, this time, and as she laughed she + put her face down so that her soft, warm cheek nestled against it. + </p> + <p> + “But he didn't put it that way,” she objected. “And we must take wisdom as + it comes. There! I must go now,” rather in a hurry. “Some one is coming—see!” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” he observed, devoutly. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” answered Dolly; “but you must let me go. Good-night, + again.” + </p> + <p> + He released her, and she ran in through the gate, and up the gravel walk, + and so he was left to turn away and pass the intruder with an appearance + of nonchalance. And pass him he did, though whether with successful + indifference or not, one can hardly say; but in passing him he looked up, + and in looking up he recognized Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “Going to see her,” he said, to himself, just as poor Mollie had said the + same thing, and just with the same heartburn. “The dev—But, no,” he + broke off sharply, “I won't begin again. It is as she says,—the + blessed little darling!—it is shabby to be down on him because he + has the best of it.” And he went on his way, not rejoicing, it is true, + but still trying to crush down a by no means unnatural feeling of + rebellion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES. + </h2> + <p> + THE wise one sat at the window and looked out. The view commanded by + Bloomsbury Place was not a specially imposing or attractive one. Four or + five tall, dingy houses with solitary scrubby shrubs in their small front + slips of low-spirited looking gardens, four or five dingy and tall houses + without the scrubby shrubs in their small front slips of low-spirited + looking gardens, rows of Venetian blinds of various shades, and one or two + lamp-posts,—not much to enliven the prospect. + </p> + <p> + The inhabitants of the houses in Bloomsbury Place were not prone to + sitting at their front windows, accordingly; but this special afternoon, + the weather being foggy, Aimée finding herself alone in the parlor, had + left the fire just to look at this same fog, though it was by no means a + novelty. The house was very quiet. 'Toinette was out, and so was Mollie, + and Tod was asleep, lying upon a collection of cushions on the hearth-rug, + with two fingers in his mouth, his round baby face turned up luxuriously + to catch the warmth. + </p> + <p> + The wise one was waiting for Mollie, who had gone out a few hours before + to execute divers commissions of a domestic nature. + </p> + <p> + “She might have been back in half the time,” murmured the family sage, who + sat on the carpet, flattening her small features against the glass. “She + might have done what she has to do in <i>less</i> than half the time, but + I knew how it would be when she went out. She is looking in at the shop + windows and wishing for things. I wish she would n't. People stare at her + so, and I don't wonder. I am sure I cannot help watching her myself, + sometimes. She grows prettier every day of her life, and she is beginning + to know that she does, too.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes after this the small face was drawn away from the window-pane + with a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “There she is now. What a time she has been! Who is with her, I wonder? I + cannot see whether it is Phil or Mr. Gowan, it is getting so dark. It must + be Mr. Gowan. 'Toinette would be with them if it was Phil.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mollie,” she exclaimed, when the door opened, “I saw somebody with + you, and I thought it was Mr. Gowan. Why did n't he come in? Don't waken + Tod.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie came in rather hurriedly, and going to the fire knelt down before + it, holding out her hands to warm them. Her cheeks were brilliant with + color and her eyes were bright; altogether, she looked a trifle excited. + </p> + <p> + “It was n't Mr. Gowan,” she answered. “Ugh! how cold it is,—not + frosty, you know, but that raw sort of cold, Aimée. I would rather have + the frost myself, would n't you?” + </p> + <p> + But Aimée was not thinking of the weather. + </p> + <p> + “Not Mr. Gowan!” she ejaculated. “Who was it, then?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie crept nearer to the fire and gave another little shudder. + </p> + <p> + “It was—somebody else,” she returned, with a triumphant little + half-laugh. “Guess who!” + </p> + <p> + “Who!” repeated Aimée. “Somebody else! It was not any one I know.” + </p> + <p> + “It was somebody Phil knows.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one arose and came to the fire herself. + </p> + <p> + “It was some one taller than Brown!” + </p> + <p> + “Brown!” echoed Mollie, with an air of supreme contempt. “He is <i>twice</i> + as tall. Brown is only about five feet high, and he wears an overcoat ten + times too big for him, and it flaps—yes, it <i>flaps</i> about his + odious little heels. I should think it wasn't Brown. It was a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one regarded her pretty, scornful face dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Brown is n't so bad as all that implies, Mollie,” she said. “His coat is + the worst part of him. But if it was n't Brown and it was n't Mr. Gowan, + who was it?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie laughed and shrugged her shoulders again, and then looked up at her + small inquisitor charmingly defiant. + </p> + <p> + “It was—Mr. Chandos!” she confessed. + </p> + <p> + Aimée gazed at her for a moment in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she objected, “you don't know him any more than I do. You have only + seen him once through the window, and you have never been introduced to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him twice,” said Mollie. “Don't you recollect my telling you + that he picked up my glove for me the night I carried Dolly's dress to + Bra-bazon Lodge, and,” faltering a little and dropping her eyes, “he + introduced himself to me. He met me in town. I was passing through the + Arcade, and he stopped to ask about Phil. He apologized, of course, you + know, for doing it, but he said he was very anxious to know when Phil + would be at home, and—and perhaps I would be so kind as to tell him. + He wants to see him about a picture. And—then, you know, somehow or + other, he said something else, and—and I answered him—and he + walked to the gate with me.” + </p> + <p> + “He took a great liberty,” said Aimée. “And it was very imprudent in you + to let him come. I don't know what you could be thinking of. The idea of + picking up people in the street like that, Mollie; you must be crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “I could n't help it,” returned Mollie, not appearing at all disturbed. + “He knows Phil and he knows Dolly—a little. And he is very nice. He + wants to know us all. And he says Mr. Gowan is one of his best friends. I + liked him myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you did,” despairingly. “You are such a child. You would like + the man in the moon or a Kaffre chief—” + </p> + <p> + “That is not true,” interposed the delinquent. “I don't know about the man + in the moon. He might be well enough—at any rate, he would be + travelled and a novelty, but Kaffre chiefs are odious. Don't you remember + those we saw last winter?” + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” said Aimée, “you are only jesting because you are ashamed of + yourself. You <i>know</i> you were wrong to let that man come home with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mollie hung her head and made a lovely rebellious move. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” she said; “if it was n't exactly correct, it was nice. But + that is always the way,” indignantly, “nice things are always improper.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a defection for you. The oracle quite shuddered in her discreet + disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “If you go on in that way,” she said, “you will be ending by saying that + improper things are always nice.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind how I end,” observed the prisoner at the bar. “You have ended + by wakening Tod;” which remark terminated the conversation somewhat + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + A day or so later came Chandos—upon business, so he said, but he + remained much longer than his errand rendered necessary, and by some + chance or other it came to pass that Phil brought him into the parlor, and + introduced him to their small circle, in his usual amiable, informal + manner. Then he was to be seen fairly, and prepossessing enough he was. + Mollie, sitting in her corner in the blue dress, and looking exquisite and + guileless, was very demurely silent at first; but in due time Aimée began + to see that she was being gradually drawn out, and at last the drawing out + was such a success, subtle as it was, that she became quite a prominent + feature in the party, and made so many brilliant speeches without + blushing, that the family eyes began to be opened to the fact that she was + really a trifle older than she had been a few years ago, after all. The + idea had suggested itself to them faintly on one or two occasions of late, + and they were just beginning to grasp it, though they were fully as much + startled as they would have been if Tod had unexpectedly roused himself + from his infantile slumbers, and mildly but firmly announced his intention + of studying for the ministry or entering a political contest. + </p> + <p> + Aimée was dumbfounded. She had not expected this. She was going to have + her hands full, it was plain. She scarcely wondered now at her discovery + of two evenings before. And then she glanced slyly across the room again, + and took it all in once more,—Mollie, bewitching in all the novelty + of her small effort at coquetry; Chandos, leading her on, and evidently + enjoying the task he had set himself intensely. + </p> + <p> + It was quite a new Mollie who was left to them after their visitor was + gone. There was a touch of triumph and excitement in the pretty flushed + face, and a ghost of defiance in the brown eyes. She was not quite sure + that young Dame Prudence would not improve the occasion with a short + homily. + </p> + <p> + So she was a trifle restless. First she stood at the window humming an + air, then she came to the table and turned over a few sketches, then she + knelt down on pretence of teasing Tod. + </p> + <p> + But impulse was too much for her. She forgot Tod in a few minutes and fell + into a sitting position, folding her hands idly on the blue garment. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he would come,” she said, abstractedly. Then Dame Prudence + addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” she remarked. “How did you?” + </p> + <p> + She started and blushed up to her ears. + </p> + <p> + “How?” she repeated. “Oh, I knew!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he told you he would,” put in Dame P. “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” was the rather irrelevant reply, rather suddenly made, “do you + like him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never judge people,” primly enunciated, “upon first acquaintance. First + impressions are rarely to be relied upon.” + </p> + <p> + “That 's a nice speech,” in her elder sister's most shockingly flippant + manner, “and it sounds well, but I have heard it before—thousands of + times. People always say it when they want to be specially disagreeable, + and would like to cool you down. There is the least grain of Lady Augusta + in you, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “And considering that Lady Augusta is the most unpleasant person we know, + <i>that</i> is a nice speech,” returned the oracle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I only said 'a grain,' and a grain is not much.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” amiably, “suppose we say half a grain.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we say you are talking nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie's air was Dolly's own as she answered her,—people always said + she was like Dolly, despite the fact that Dolly was not a beauty at all. + </p> + <p> + “There may be something in that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we admit it and return to the subject. Do you think he is nice, + Aimée?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” but without getting rose-colored this time. + </p> + <p> + Aimée looked at her calmly, but with some quiet scrutiny in her glance. + </p> + <p> + “As nice,” she put it to her,—"as nice as Ralph Gowan?” + </p> + <p> + She grew rose-colored then in an instant up to her ears again and over + them, and she turned her face aside and plucked at the hearth-rug with + nervous fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” suggested Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “He is as handsome and—as tall, and he dresses as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like him as well?” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es—no. I have not known him long enough to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Aimée, “let me tell you. As I said before, I do not think + it wise to judge people from first impressions, but this I do know, <i>I</i> + don't like him as I like Mr. Gowan, and I never shall. He is not to be + relied upon, that Gerald Chandos; I saw it in his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + And she set her chin upon her hand, and her small, round, fair face + covered itself all at once with an anxious cloud. + </p> + <p> + She kept a quiet watch upon Mollie after this, and in the weeks that + followed she was puzzled, and not only puzzled, but baffled outright many + a time. This first visit of Mr. Gerald Chandos was not his last. His + business brought him again and again, and when the time came that he had + no pretence of business, he was on sufficiently familiar terms with them + all to make calls of pleasure. So he did just as Ralph Gowan had done, + slipped into his groove of friend and acquaintance unobtrusively, and was + made welcome as other people were,—just as any sufficiently harmless + individual would have been under the same circumstances. There was no + dragon of high renown to create social disturbances in Vagabondia. + </p> + <p> + “As long as a man behaves himself, where's the odds?” said Phil; and no + one ever disagreed with him. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Gerald Chandos had not been to the house more than three times + before Aimée found cause to wonder. She discovered that Ralph Gowan was + not so enthusiastically attached to him, after all; and furthermore she + had her reasons for thinking that Gowan was rather disturbed at his + advent, and would have preferred that he had not been adopted so + complacently. + </p> + <p> + “If Dolly was at home,” she said to herself, “I should be inclined to + fancy he was a trifle jealous; and if he cared just a little more for + Mollie, I might think he was jealous; but Dolly is away, and though he is + fond of Mollie, and thinks her pretty, he does n't care for her in that + way exactly, so there must be some other reason. He is not the sort of + person to have likes or dislikes without reason.” + </p> + <p> + In her own sage style she approved of Ralph Gowan just as she approved of + Griffith. And then, as I have said, Mollie puzzled her. It was astonishing + how the child altered, and how she began to bloom out, and adopt + independent, womanly airs and graces. She took a new and important + position in the household. From her post of observation the wise one found + herself looking on with a smile sometimes, there was such a freshness in + her style of enacting the <i>rôle</i> of beauty. She struck Phil's friends + dumb now and then with her conscious power, and the unhappy Brown suffered + himself to be led captive without a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Her 'prentice han' she tried on Brown,” Dolly had said, months before, in + a wretched attempt at parody; and certainly the tortures of Brown were + prolonged and varied. But it was her manner toward Chandos that puzzled + Aimée. Perhaps she was a trifle proud of his evident admiration; at all + events, she seemed far from averse to it, and the incomprehensible part of + the affair was that sometimes she allowed him to rival even Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” commented Aimée, “she likes Ralph Gowan better. She never can + help blushing and looking conscious when he comes or when he talks to her, + and she is as cool as Dolly when she finds herself with Chandos. It is + very odd.” + </p> + <p> + It was not so easy to manage her as it used to be, Ralph Gowan discovered. + She was growing capricious and fanciful, and ready to take offence. If + they were left alone together, she would change her mood every two + minutes. Sometimes she would submit to his old jesting, gallant speeches + quite humbly and shyly for a while, and then she would flame out all at + once in anger, half a woman's and half a child's. He was inclined to fancy + now and then that she had never forgiven him for his first interference on + the subject of Gerald Chandos, for at the early part of the acquaintance + he did interfere, as he had promised Dolly he would. + </p> + <p> + “I am not glad to see that fellow here, Mollie,” he had said, the first + night he met him at the house. + </p> + <p> + She stood erect before him, with her white throat straight, and a spark in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What fellow?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Chandos,” he answered, coolly and briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she returned. “How is it that when one man dislikes another he + always speaks of him as 'that fellow'? I know some one who always refers + to you as 'that fellow.'” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” dryly, as before. He knew very well whom she meant. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> am glad to see 'that fellow' here,” she went on. “He is a + gentleman, and he is n't stupid. No one else comes here who is so amusing. + I am tired of Brown & Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he answered, biting his lip. He felt the rebuff, if it was only + Mollie who gave it. “Very well then, if you are tired of Brown & + Company, and would prefer to enter into partnership with Chandos, it is + none of my business, I suppose. I will give you one warning, however, + because I promised your sister to take care of you.” Her skin flamed + scarlet at that. “That fellow is not a gentleman exactly, and he is a very + dangerous acquaintance for any woman to make.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a friend of yours,” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “That is a natural mistake on your part,” he replied,—"natural, but + still a mistake. He is <i>not</i> a friend of mine. As I before observed, + he is not exactly a gentleman—not to put too fine a point upon it—from + a moral point of view. We won't discuss the matter further.” + </p> + <p> + They had parted bad friends that night. Mollie was restive under his cool + decisiveness for various reasons; he was irritated because he felt he had + failed, and had lost ground instead of gaining it. So sometimes since, he + had fancied that she had not wholly forgiven him, and yet there were times + when she was so softly submissive that he felt himself in some slight + danger of being as much touched and as fairly bewitched as he was when + Dolly turned her attention to him. Still she was frequently far from + amiable, and upon more than one occasion he found her not precisely as + polite as she might have been. + </p> + <p> + “You are not as amiable, Mollie,” he said to her once, “as you used to be. + We were very good friends in the old days. I suppose you are outgrowing + me. I should be afraid to offer you a bunch of camellias now as a token of + my affection.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled down at her indolently as he said it, and before he had finished + he began to feel uncomfortable. Her eyelids drooped and her head drooped, + and she looked sweetly troubled. + </p> + <p> + “I know I am not as good as I used to be,” she admitted. “I know it + without being told. Sometimes,” very suddenly, “I think I must be growing + awfully wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he commented, “at least one must admit that is a promising state + of mind, and augurs well for future repentance.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn't,” she answered him, “and that is the bad side of it. I am + getting worse every day of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it safe,” he suggested, cynically,—"is it safe for an innocent + individual to cultivate your acquaintance? Would it not be a good plan to + isolate yourself from society until you feel that the guileless ones may + approach you without fear of contamination? You alarm me.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her head, her eyes flashing. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> are safe,” she said; “so it is rather premature to cry 'wolf' + so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very plain that you are outgrowing me,” he returned. “Dolly herself + could not have made a more scathing remark.” + </p> + <p> + But, fond as he was of tormenting her, he did not want to try her too far, + and so he endeavored to make friends. But his efforts at reconciliation + were not a success. She was not to be coaxed into her sweet mood again; + indeed she almost led him to fear that he had wounded her irreparably by + his jests. And yet, when he at last consulted his watch, and went to the + side-table for his hat and gloves, he turned round to find her large eyes + following him in a wistful sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going?” she asked him at length, a half-reluctant appeal in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am due at Brabazon Lodge now,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She said no more after that, but relapsed into silence, and let him go + without making an effort to detain him, receiving his adieus in her most + indifferent style. + </p> + <p> + But she was cross and low-spirited when he was gone, and Aimée, coming + into the room with her work, found her somewhat hard to deal with, and + indeed was moved to tell her so. + </p> + <p> + “You are a most inexplicable girl, Mollie,” she said. “What crotchet is + troubling you now?” + </p> + <p> + “No crotchet at all,” she answered, and then all at once she got up and + stood before the mantel-glass, looking at herself fixedly. “Aimée,” she + said, “if you were a man, would you admire me?” + </p> + <p> + Aimée gave her a glance, and then answered her with sharp frankness. “Yes, + I should,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She remained standing for a few minutes, taking a survey of herself, front + view, side view, and even craning her pretty throat to get a glimpse of + her back; and then a pettish sigh burst from her, and she sat down again + at her sister's feet, clasping her hands about her knees in a most + unorthodox position. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to have a great deal of money,” she said after a while, and + she frowned as she said it. + </p> + <p> + “That is a startling observation,” commented Aimée, “and shows great + singularity of taste.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie frowned again, and shrugged one shoulder, but otherwise gave the + remark small notice. + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” she proceeded, “to have a carriage, and to live in a + grand house, and go to places. I should like to marry somebody rich.” And + having blurted out this last confession, she looked half ashamed of + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” said Aimée, solemnly dropping her hands and her work upon her + lap, “I am beginning to feel as Dolly does; I am beginning to be afraid + you are going to get yourself into serious trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Then this overgrown baby of theirs, who had so suddenly astonished them + all by dropping her babyhood and asserting herself a woman, said something + so startling that the wise one fairly lost her breath. + </p> + <p> + “If I cannot get what I want,” she said, deliberately, “I will take what I + can get.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going out of your mind,” ejaculated Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “It does n't matter if I am,” cried the romantic little goose, positively + crushing the oracle by breaking down all at once, and flinging herself + upon the hearthrug in a burst of tears,—"it does n't matter if I am. + Who cares for <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD. + </h2> + <p> + THEEE weeks waited the wise one, keeping her eyes on the alert and her + small brain busy, but preserving an owl-like silence upon the subject + revolving in her mind. But at the end of that time she marched into the + parlor one day, attired for a walk, and astonished them all by gravely + announcing her intention of going to see Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going for?” said Mrs. Phil. + </p> + <p> + “Rather sudden, is n't it?” commented Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm going on business,” returned Aimée, and she buttoned her gloves and + took her departure, without enlightening them further. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at Brabazon Lodge, she found Miss MacDowlas out and Dolly sitting + alone in the parlor, with a letter from Griffith in her hand and tears in + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her visitor walked to the hearth, her face wrinkling portentously, and + kissed her with an air of affectionate severity. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she began, comprehending matters at a glance, “I am sure I + don't know what I am to do with you all. <i>You</i> are in trouble now.” + </p> + <p> + “Take off your things,” said Dolly, with a helpless little sob, “and—and + then I will tell you all about it. You must stay and have tea with me. + Miss MacDowlas is away, and I—am all alone, and—and, O Aimée!” + </p> + <p> + The hat and jacket were laid aside in two minutes, and Aimée came back to + her and knelt down. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything in your letter you do not want me to see?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, in despair, and tossed it into her lap. + </p> + <p> + It was no new story, but this time the Fates seemed to have conspired + against her more maliciously than usual. A few days before Grif had found + himself terribly dashed in spirit, and under the influence of impulse had + written to her. Two or three times in one day he had heard accidental + comments upon Gowan's attentions to her, and on his return to his lodgings + at night he had appealed to her in a passionate epistle. + </p> + <p> + He was not going to doubt her again, he said, and he was struggling to + face the matter coolly, but he wanted to see her. It would be worse than + useless to call upon her at the Lodge, and have an interview under the + disapproving eyes of Miss MacDowlas, and so he had thought they might meet + again by appointment, as they had done before by chance. And Dolly had + acquiesced at once. But Fortune was against her. Just as she had been + ready to leave the house, Ralph Gowan had made his appearance, and Miss + MacDowlas had called her down-stairs to entertain him. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have cared about telling,” cried Dolly, in tears, “but I + could not tell her, and so I had to stay, and—actually—<i>sing</i>—Aimée. + Yes, sing detestable love-sick songs, while my own darling, whom I was <i>dying</i> + to go to, was waiting outside in the cold. And that was not the worst, + either. He was just outside in the road, and when the servants lighted the + gas he saw me through the window. And I was at the piano"—in a burst—"and + Ralph Gowan was standing by me. And so he went home and wrote <i>that</i>,” + signifying with a gesture the letter Aimée held. “And everything is wrong + again.” + </p> + <p> + It was very plain that everything <i>was</i> wrong again. The epistle in + question was an impetuous, impassioned effusion enough. He was furious + against Gowan, and bitter against everybody else. She had cheated and + slighted and trifled with him when he most needed her love and pity; but + he would not blame her, he could only blame himself for being such an + insane, presumptuous fool as to fancy that anything he had to offer could + be worthy of any woman. + </p> + <p> + What had he to offer, etc., for half a dozen almost illegible pages, + dashed and crossed, and all on fire with his bitterness and pain. + </p> + <p> + Having taken it from Aimée, and read it for the twentieth time, Dolly + fairly wrung her hands over it. + </p> + <p> + “If we were only just <i>together!</i>” she cried. “If we only just had + the tiniest, shabbiest house in the world, and could be married and help + each other! He does n't mean to be unjust or unkind, you know, Aimée; he + would be more wretched than I am if he knew how unhappy he has made me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed Aimée. “He should think of that before he begins.” + </p> + <p> + Then she regained possession of the letter, and smoothed out its creases + on her knee, finishing by folding it carefully and returning it to its + envelope, looking very grave all the time. + </p> + <p> + “Will you lend me this?” she said at last, holding the epistle up. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with it?” asked Dolly, disconsolately. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ask Griffith to read it again. I shall be sure to see him + to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” answered Dolly; “but don't be too hard upon him, Aimée. He + has a great deal to bear.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Aimée. “And sometimes he bears it very well; but just + now he needs a little advice.” + </p> + <p> + Troubled as she was, Dolly laughed at the staid expression on her small, + discreet face; but even as she laughed she caught the child in her arms + and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “What should we do without you!” she exclaimed. “We need some one to keep + us all straight, we Vagabonds; but it seems queer that such a small + wiseacre as you should be our controlling power.” + </p> + <p> + The mere sight of the small wiseacre had a comforting effect upon her. Her + spirits began to rise, and she so far recovered herself as to be able to + look matters in the face more cheerfully. There was so much to talk about, + and so many questions to ask, that it would have been impossible to remain + dejected and uninterested. It was not until after tea, however, that Aimée + brought her “business” upon the carpet. She had thought it best not to + introduce the subject during the earlier part of the evening; but when the + tea-tray was removed, and they found themselves alone again, she settled + down, and applied herself at once to the work before her. + </p> + <p> + “I have not told you yet what I came here for this afternoon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to intimate that you did not come to see me!” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I came to see you, of course,” decidedly; “but I came to see you for a + purpose. I came to talk to you about Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly almost turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she exclaimed. “What is the trouble about Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that puzzles me,” was the answer. “Dolly, do you know anything + about Gerald Chandos?” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Dolly. “It is Gerald Chandos, is it? He is not a fit + companion for her, I know that much.” + </p> + <p> + And then she repeated, word for word, the conversation she had had with + Ralph Gowan. + </p> + <p> + Having listened to the end, Aimée shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I like Mr. Gowan well enough,” she said, “but he has been the cause of a + great deal of trouble among us, without meaning to be, and I am afraid it + is not at an end yet.” + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a few moments after this, and then Dolly, + looking up, spoke with a touch of reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you can answer me a question I should like to ask you?” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “If it is about Mollie, I think I can,” Aimée returned. + </p> + <p> + “You have been with her so long,” Dolly went on, two tiny lines showing + themselves upon <i>her</i> forehead this time, “and you are so quick at + seeing things, that you must know what there is to know. And yet it hardly + seems fair to ask. Ralph Gowan goes to Bloomsbury Place often, does he + not?” + </p> + <p> + “He goes very often, and he seems to care more for Mollie than for any of + the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” Dolly said next, “does—this is my question—does + Mollie care for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she does,” answered Aimée. “She cares for him so much that she is + making herself miserable about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” cried Dolly. “What—” + </p> + <p> + Aimée interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “And that is not the worst. The fact is, Dolly, I don't know what to make + of her. If it was any one but Mollie, or if Mollie was a bit less innocent + and impetuous, I should not be so much afraid; but sometimes she is angry + with herself, and sometimes she is angry with him, and sometimes she is + both, and then I should not be surprised at her doing anything innocent + and frantic. Poor child! It is my impression she has about half made up + her mind to the desperate resolve of making a grand marriage. She said as + much the other night, and I think that is why she encourages Mr. Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” cried Dolly, again. “And does she think he wants to marry + her?” + </p> + <p> + “She knows he makes violent love to her, and she is not worldly-wise + enough to know that Lord Burleighs are out of date.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of date!” said Dolly; “I doubt if they ever were in date. Men like + Mr. Gerald Chandos would hesitate at marrying Venus from Bloomsbury + Place.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was Ralph Gowan,” suggested Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “But Ralph Gowan is n't like Chandos,” Dolly returned, astutely. “He is + worth ten thousand of him. I wish he would fall in love with Mollie and + marry her. Poor Mollie! Poor, pretty, headlong little goose! What are we + to do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan is very fond of her, in a way,” said Aimée. “If he did not care + a little for you—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he did not!” sighed Dolly. “But it serves me right,” with candor. + “He would never have thought of me again if I—well, if I had n't + found things so dreadfully dull at that Bilberry clan gathering.” + </p> + <p> + “'If,'” moralized Aimée, significantly. “'If' is n't a wise word, and it + often gets you into trouble, Dolly. If you hadn't, it would have been + better for Grif, as well; but what cannot be cured must be endured.” + </p> + <p> + Their long talk ended, however, in Dolly's great encouragement. It was + agreed that the family oracle was to bring Griffith to his senses by means + of some slight sisterly reproof, and that she was to take Mollie in hand + discreetly at once and persuade her to enter the confessional. + </p> + <p> + “She has altered a great deal, and has grown much older and more + self-willed lately,” said Aimée; “but if I am very straightforward and + take her by surprise, I scarcely think she will be able to conceal much + from me, and, at least, I shall be able to show her that her fancies are + romantic and unpractical.” + </p> + <p> + She did not waste any time before applying herself to her work, when she + went home. Instead of going to Bloomsbury Place at once, she stopped at + Griffith's lodgings on her way, and rather scandalized his landlady by + requesting to be shown into his parlor. Only the grave simplicity of the + small, slight figure in its gray cloak, and the steadfast seriousness in + the pretty face reconciled the worthy matron to the idea of admitting her + without investigation. But Aimée bore her scrutiny very calmly. The whole + family of them had taken tea in the little sitting-room with Griffith, + upon one or two occasions, so she was not at all at a loss, although she + did not find herself recognized. + </p> + <p> + “I am one of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said; and that, of course, was + quite enough. Mrs. Cripps knew Mr. Crewe as well as she knew Grif himself, + so she stepped back into the narrow passage at once, and even opened the + parlor door, and announced the visitor in a way that made poor Grif s + heart beat. + </p> + <p> + “One of Mr. Crewe's sisters,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He had been sitting glowering over the fire, with his head on his hands + and his elbows on his knees, and when he started up he looked quite + haggard and dishevelled. Was it—<i>could</i> it be Dolly? He knew it + could not be, but he turned pale at the thought. It would have been such + rapture, in his present frame of mind, to have poured out his misery and + distrust, and then to have clasped her to his heart before she had time to + explain. He was just in that wretched, passionate, relenting, remorseful + stage. + </p> + <p> + But it was only Aimée, in her gray cloak; and as the door closed behind + her, that small person advanced toward him, crumpling her white forehead + and looking quite disturbed at the mere sight of him. She held up a + reproachful finger at him warningly. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it would be just this way,” she said. “And you are paler and more + miserable than ever. If you and Dolly would just be more practical and + reason more for each other, instead of falling headlong into quarrels and + making everything up headlong every ten minutes, how much better it would + be for you! If I was not so fond of you both, you would be the greatest + trials I have.” + </p> + <p> + He was so glad to see the thoughtful, womanly little creature, that he + could have caught her up in his arms, gray cloak and all, and have kissed + her only a tithe less impetuously than he would have kissed Dolly. He was + one of the most faithful worshippers at her shrine, and her pretty wisdom + and unselfishness had won her many. He drew the easiest chair up to the + fire for her, and made her sit down and warm her feet on the fender, while + she talked to him, and he listened to her every word, as he always did. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to see Dolly,” she said, “and I found her crying,—all + by herself and crying.” And she paused to note the effect of her words. + </p> + <p> + His heart gave a great thump. It always did give a hard thump when he + thought of Dolly as she looked when she cried,—a soft, limp little + bundle of pathetic prettiness, covering her dear little face in her hands, + shedding such piteous, impassioned tears, and refusing to be kissed or + comforted. Dolly sobbing on his shoulder was so different from the + coquettish, shrewd, mock-worldly Dolly other people saw. + </p> + <p> + Aimée put her hand into her dress-pocket under the gray cloak and produced + her letter,—took it out of its envelope, laid it on her knee, and + smoothed out its creases again. + </p> + <p> + “She was crying over this letter,” she proceeded,—"your letter; the + one you wrote to her when I think you cannot have been quite calm enough + to write anything. I think you cannot have read it over before sending it + away. It is always best to read a letter <i>twice</i> before posting it. + So I have brought it to you to read again, and there it is,” giving it to + him. + </p> + <p> + He burst forth with the story of his wrongs, of course, then. He could not + keep it in any longer. Things had gone wrong with him in every way before + this had happened, he said, and he had longed so for just one hour in + which Dolly could comfort him and try to help him to pluck up spirits + again, and she had written to him a tender little letter, and promised to + give him that hour, and he had been so full of impatience and love, and he + had gone to the very gates and waited like a beggar outside, lest he + should miss her by any chance, and the end of his waiting had been that he + had caught a glimpse of the bright, warm room, and the piano, and Dolly + with Gowan bending over her as if she had no other lover in the world. He + told it all in a burst, clenching his hand and scarcely stopping for + breath; but when he ended he dashed the letter down, pushed his chair + round, and dropped his head on his folded arms on the table, with a wild, + tearing sob. + </p> + <p> + “It is no fault of hers,” he cried, “and it was only the first sting that + made me reproach her. I shall never do it again. She is only in the right, + and that fellow is in the right when he tells himself that he can take + better care of her and make her happier than I can. I will be a coward no + longer,—not an hour longer. I will give her up to-night. She will + learn to love him—he is a gentleman at least—if I were in his + place I should never fear that she would not learn in time, and forget—and + forget the poor, selfish beggar who would have died for her, and yet was + not man enough to control the jealous rage that tortured her. I 'll give + her up. I'll give it all up—but, oh! my God! Dolly, the—the + little house, and—and the dreams I have had about it!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée was almost in despair. This was not one of his ordinary moods; this + was the culminating point,—the culmination of all his old sufferings + and pangs. He had been working slowly toward this through all the old + unhappiness and self-reproach. The constant droppings of the bygone years + had worn away the stone at last, and he could not bear much more. Aimée + was frightened now. Her habit of forethought showed her all this in a very + few seconds. His nervous, highly strung, impassioned temperament had + broken down at last. Another blow would be too much for him. If she could + not manage to set him right now and calm him, and if things went wrong + again, she was secretly conscious of feeling that the consequences could + not be foreseen. There was nothing wild and rash and wretched he might not + do. + </p> + <p> + She got up and went to him, and leaned upon the table, clasping her cool, + firm little hand upon his hot, desperate one. A woman of fifty could not + have had the power over him that this slight, inexperienced little + creature had. Her childish face caught color and life and strength in her + determination to do her best for these two whom she loved so well. Her + small-boned, fragile figure deceived people into undervaluing her reserve + forces; but there was mature feeling and purpose enough in her to have put + many a woman three times her age to shame. The light, cool touch of her + hand soothed and controlled Griffith from the first, and when she put + forth all her powers of reasoning, and set his trouble before him in a + more practical and less headlong way, not a word was lost upon him. She + pictured Dolly to him just as she had found her holding his letter in her + hand, and she pictured her too as she had really been the night he watched + her through the window,—not staying because she cared for Gowan, but + because circumstances had forced her to remain when she was longing in her + own impetuous pretty way to fly to him, and give him the comfort he + needed. And she gave Dolly's story in Dolly's own words, with the little + sobs between, and the usual plentiful sprinkling of sweet, foolish, loving + epithets, and—with innocent artfulness—made her seem so + charming and affectionate, a little centre-figure in the picture she drew, + that no man with a heart in his breast could have resisted her, and by the + time Aimée had finished, Grif was so far moved that it seemed a sheer + impossibility to speak again of relinquishing his claims. + </p> + <p> + But he could not regain his spirits sufficiently to feel able to say very + much. He quieted down, but he was still down at heart and crushed in + feeling, and could do little else but listen in a hopeless sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you what you shall do,” Aimée said at last. “You shall see + Dolly yourself,—not on the street, but just as you used to see her + when she was at home. She shall come home some afternoon. I know Miss + MacDowlas will let her,—and you shall sit in the parlor together, + Grif, and make everything straight, and begin afresh.” + </p> + <p> + He could not help being roused somewhat by such a prospect. The cloud was + lifted for one instant, even if it fell upon him again the next. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to wait a week,” he said. “Old Flynn has asked me to go to + Dartmouth, to attend to some business for him, and I leave here to-morrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” she answered. “If we must wait a week, we must; but you can + write to Dolly in the interval, and settle upon the day, and then she can + speak to Miss MacDowlas.” + </p> + <p> + He agreed to the plan at once, and promised to write to Dolly that very + night. So the young peacemaker's mind was set at rest upon this subject, + at least, and after giving him a trifle more advice, and favoring him with + a few more sage axioms, she prepared to take her departure. + </p> + <p> + “You may put on your hat and take me to the door; but you had better not + come in if you are going to finish your letter before the post closes,” + she said; “but the short walk will do you good, and the night-air will + cool you.” + </p> + <p> + She bade him good-night at the gate when they reached Bloomsbury Place, + and she entered the house with her thoughts turning to Mollie. Mollie had + been out, too, it seemed. When she went up-stairs to their bedroom, she + found her there, standing before the dressing-table, still with her hat + on, and looking in evident preoccupation at something she held in her + hand. Hearing Aimée, she started and turned round, dropping her hand at + her side, but not in time to hide a suspicious glitter which caught her + sister's eye. Here was a worse state of affairs than ever. She had + something to hide, and she had made up her mind to hide it. She stood up + as Aimée approached, looking excited and guilty, but still half-defiant, + her lovely head tossed back a little and an obstinate curve on her red + lips. But the oracle was not to be daunted. She confronted her with quite + a stern little air. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she began at once, without the least hesitation,—"Mollie, + you have just this minute hidden something from me, and I should n't have + thought you could do it.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie put her closed hand behind her. + </p> + <p> + “<i>If</i> I am hiding something,” she answered, “I am not hiding it + without reason.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Dame Prudence, severely, “you are not. You have a very good + reason, I am afraid. You are ashamed of yourself, and you know you are + doing wrong. You have got a secret, which you are keeping from <i>me</i>, + Mollie,” bridling a little in the prettiest way. “I didn't think you would + keep a secret from <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Mollie, very naturally, was overpowered. She looked a trifle ashamed of + herself, and the tears came into her eyes. She drew her hand from behind + her back, and held it out with a half-pettish, half-timid gesture. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said; “if you must see it.” + </p> + <p> + And there, on her pink palm, lay a shining opal ring. + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Aimée, looking at it without offering to touch it, and then + looking at her,—"and Mr. Gerald Chandos gave it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Gerald Chandos did,” trying to brave it out, but still appearing + the reverse of comfortable. “And you think it proper,” proceeded her + inquisitor, “to accept such presents from a gentleman who cares nothing + for you?” + </p> + <p> + Care nothing for her! Mollie drew herself upright, with the air of a + Zenobia. She had had too few real love affairs not to take arms at once at + such an imputation cast upon her prowess. + </p> + <p> + “He cares enough for me to want me to marry him,” she said, and then + stopped and looked as if she could have bitten her tongue off for + betraying her. + </p> + <p> + Aimée sat down in the nearest chair and stared at her, as if she doubted + the evidence of her senses. + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + There was no use in trying to conceal the truth any longer. Mollie saw + that much; and besides this, her feelings were becoming too strong for her + from various causes. The afternoon had been an exciting one to her, too. + So, all at once, so suddenly that Aimée was altogether unprepared for the + outbreak, she gave way. The ring fell unheeded on to the carpet, slipped + from her hand and rolled away, and the next instant she went down upon her + knees, hiding her face on her arms on Aimée's lap, and began to cry + hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “It—it is to be quite a secret,” she sobbed. “I would not tell + anybody but you, and I dare not tell you quite all, but he <i>has</i> + asked me to marry him, Aimée, and I have—I have said yes.” And then + she cried more than ever, and caught Aimée's hand, and clung to it with a + desperate, childish grasp, as if she was frightened. + </p> + <p> + It was very evident that she was frightened, too. All the newly assumed + womanliness was gone. It was the handsome, inexperienced, ignorant child + Mollie she had known all her life who was clinging to her, Aimée felt,—the + pretty, simple, thoughtless Mollie they had all admired and laughed at, + and teased and been fond of. She seemed to have become a child again all + at once, and she was in trouble and desperate, it was plain. + </p> + <p> + “But the very idea!” exclaimed Aimée, inwardly; “the bare idea of her + having the courage to engage herself to him!” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard such a thing in my life,” she said, aloud. “Oh, Mollie! + Mollie! what induced you to give him such a mad answer? You don't care for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He—he would not take any other answer, and he is as nice as any one + else,” shamefacedly. “He is nicer than Brown and the others, and—I + do like him—a little,” but a tiny shudder crept over her, and she + held her listener's hand more tightly. + </p> + <p> + “As nice as any one else!” echoed Aimée, indignantly. “Nicer than Brown! + You ought to be in leading-strings!” with pathetic hopelessness. “That was + n't your only reason, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + The hat with the short crimson feather had been unceremoniously pushed + off, and hung by its elastic upon Mollie's neck; the pretty curly hair was + all crushed into a heap, and the flushed, tear-wet face was hidden in the + folds of Aimée's dress. There was a charming, foolish, fanciful side to + Mollie's desperation, as there was to all her moods. + </p> + <p> + “That was not your only reason,” repeated Aimée. + </p> + <p> + One impetuous, unhappy little sob, and the poor simple child confessed + against her will. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody—nobody else cared for me!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody?” said Aimée; and then, making up her mind to go to the point at + once, she said, “Does 'nobody' mean that Ralph Gowan did not, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + The clinging hand was snatched away, and the child quite writhed. + </p> + <p> + “I hate Ralph Gowan!” she cried. “I detest him! I wish—I wish—I + <i>wish</i> I had never seen him! Why could n't he stay away among his own + people? Nobody wanted him. Dolly doesn't care for him, and Grif hates him. + Why could n't he stay where he was?” + </p> + <p> + There was no need to doubt after this, of course. Her love for Ralph Gowan + had rendered her restless and despairing, and so she had worked out this + innocent romance, intending to defend herself against him. The heroines of + her favorite novels married for money when they could not marry for love, + and why should not she? Remember, she was only seventeen, and had been + brought up in Vagabondia among people who did not often regard + consequences. Mr. Gerald Chandos was rich, made violent love to her, and + was ready to promise anything, it appeared,—not that she demanded + much; the Lord Burleighs of her experience invariably showered jewels and + equipages and fine raiment upon their brides without being asked. She + would have thought it positive bliss to be tied to Ralph Gowan for six or + seven years without any earthly prospect of ever being married; to have + belonged to him as Dolly belonged to Grif, to sit in the parlor and listen + to him while he made love to her as Grif made love to Dolly, would have + been quite enough steady-going rapture for her; but since that was out of + the question, Mr. Gerald Chandos and diamonds and a carriage would have to + fill up the blank. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, she did not say this to Aimée. In fact, after her first + burst of excitement subsided, Aimée could not gain much from her. She + cried a little more, and then seemed vexed with herself, and tried to cool + down, and at last so far succeeded that she sat up and pushed her tangled + hair from her wet, hot face, and began to search for the ring. + </p> + <p> + “It has got a diamond in the centre,” she said, trying to speak + indifferently. “I don't believe you looked at it. The opals are splendid, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to wear it?” asked Aimée. + </p> + <p> + She colored up to her forehead. “No, I am not,” she answered. “I should + have worn it before if I had intended to let people see it. I told you it + was a secret. I have had this ring three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it a secret?” demanded Dame Prudence. “I don't believe in secrets,—particularly + in secret engagements. Is n't Phil to know?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away to put the ring into its case. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” she replied, pettishly. “Time enough when it can't be helped. + It is a secret, I tell you, and I don't care about everybody's talking it + over.” + </p> + <p> + And she would say no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION. + </h2> + <h3> + “It is my impression,” said Dolly, “that something is going to happen.” + </h3> + <p> + She was not in the best of spirits. She could not have explained why. + Griffith was safe, at least, though he had been detained a week longer + than he had anticipated, and consequently their meeting would have to be + deferred; but though this had been a disappointment, Dolly was used to + such disappointments, and besides the most formidable part of the waiting + was over, for it was settled now that he would be home in two days. It was + Tuesday now, and on Thursday he was to return, and she was going to + Bloomsbury Place in the afternoon, and he was to join the family tea as he + had used to do in the old times. But still she did not feel quite easy. + She was restless and uncomfortable in spite of herself, and was conscious + of being troubled by a vague presentiment of evil. + </p> + <p> + “It is not like me to be blue,” she said to herself; “but I am blue + to-day. I wonder what is going on at home.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as was quite natural, her thoughts wandered to Mollie, and she began + to ponder upon what Aimée had told her. How were matters progressing, and + what was going to be the end of it all? The child's danger was plainer to + her than it was to Aimée; and, fond as she was of Mollie, she had + determined to improve the occasion of her visit home, by taking the fair + delinquent aside and administering a sound lecture to her. She would tell + her the truth, at least, and try to open her innocent eyes to the fact + that Mr. Gerald Chandos was not a man of the King Cophetua stamp, and that + there was neither romance nor poetry in allowing such a man to amuse + himself at her expense. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mollie! It would be a humiliating view to take of a first conquest, + but it would be the best thing for her in the end. Dolly sighed over the + mere prospect of the task before her. She remembered what her first + conquest had been, and how implicitly she had believed in her new power, + and how trustingly she had swallowed every sugared nothing, and how she + had revelled in the field of possible romance which had seemed spread + before her, until she had awakened one fine day to find the first flush of + her triumph fading, and her adorer losing his attractions and becoming + rather tame. That had been long ago, even before Griffith's time, but she + had not forgotten the experience, and she knew it would have been a severe + shock to <i>her</i> innocent self-love and self-gratulation, if any one + had hinted to her that there was a doubt of her captive's honesty. She was + roused from her reverie by a message from Miss MacDowlas. It was only a + commonplace sort of message. There were some orders to be left at the + poulterer's and fruiterer's, and some bills to be paid in town, and, these + affairs being her business, Miss MacDowlas had good-naturedly ordered the + carriage for her, as she had a long round to make. + </p> + <p> + Dolly got up and laid her work aside. She was not sorry for the + opportunity of going out, so she ran up-stairs with some alacrity to put + on her hat, and, having dressed, went to Miss MacDowlas for more + particular instructions. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking rather pale and the drive will do you good,” said that + lady. “Call at Pullet's and pay his bill, and order the things on his list + first. By the way, it was when I drove round to give orders to Pullet the + other day, that I saw your pretty sister with Gerald Chandos. She is too + pretty, far too pretty, and far too young and inexperienced, to be giving + private interviews to such people as Gerald Chandos,” sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Private!” repeated Dolly, with some indignation. “I think that is a + mistake. Mr. Gerald Chandos has no need to make his interview private. The + doors are open to him at Bloomsbury Place so long as he behaves himself.” + </p> + <p> + “The more is the pity,” answered Miss MacDowlas; “but that this was a + private interview I am certain. My pretty Miss Innocence came up the + street slowly with her handsome baby-face on fire, and two minutes later + Gerald Chandos followed her in a wondrous hurry, and joined her and + carried her off, looking very guilty and charming, and a trifle reluctant, + I must admit.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly's cheeks flushed, and her heart began to beat hotly. If this was the + case it was simply disgraceful, and Miss Mollie was allowing herself to be + led too far. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear this,” she said to Miss Mac-Dowlas, “but I am indebted + to you for telling me. I will attend to it when I go home on Thursday, + and,” with a flash of fire, “if it is needful I will attend to Mr. Gerald + Chandos himself.” + </p> + <p> + She entered the carriage, feeling hot with anger and distress. She had not + expected such a blow, even though she had told herself that she was + prepared to hear of any romantic imprudence. And then in the midst of her + anger she began to pity Mollie, as it seemed natural to pity her always + when she was indiscreet. Who had ever taught her to be discreet, poor + child? Had she herself? No, she had not. She had been fond of her and + proud of her beauty, but she had laughed at her unsophisticated, + thoughtless way with the rest, and somehow they had all looked upon her as + they looked upon Tod,—as rather a good joke. Dolly quite hated + herself as she remembered how she had related her own little escapades for + the edification of the family circle, and how Mollie had enjoyed them more + than any one else. She had never overstepped the actual bounds of + propriety herself, but she had been coquettish and fond of admiration, and + had delighted to hold her own against the world. + </p> + <p> + “I was n't a good example to her!” she cried, remorsefully. “She ought to + have had a good, wise mother. I wish she had. I wish I had one myself.” + </p> + <p> + And she burst into tears, and leaned her head against the cushioned + carriage, feeling quite overcome by her self-reproach and consciousness. + Their mother had died when Mollie was born, and they had been left to + fight their own battles ever since. + </p> + <p> + She was obliged to control herself, however. It would never do to present + herself to Pullet in tears. So she sat up and dried her eyes with her + handkerchief, and turned to the carriage window to let the fresh air blow + upon her face. But she had not been looking out two minutes when her + attention was attracted by something down the street,—a bit of + color,—a little tuft of scarlet feathers in a hat, and then her + eyes, wandering lower, recognized a well-remembered jacket and a + well-remembered dress, and then the next instant she uttered an + exclamation in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “It is Mollie!” she cried. “It is Mollie, and here is Gerald Chandos!” + </p> + <p> + For at the door of a bookseller's she was just nearing stood the gentleman + in question, holding a periodical in his hand, and evidently awaiting an + arrival. + </p> + <p> + He caught sight of Mollie almost as soon as she did herself, and the + instant he saw her he hurried toward her, and by the time Miss MacDowlas's + carriage rolled slowly up to them, in its usual stately fashion, he was + holding the small disreputable glove Mollie had just taken out of the + convenient jacket pocket, and the fair culprit herself was listening to + his eager greeting with the old, bright, uncontrollable blushes, and the + old dangerous trick of drooping brown-fringed eyelids, and half-shy, + half-wilful air. Dolly instinctively called to her almost aloud. She could + not resist the impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she said. “Mollie!” + </p> + <p> + But, of course, Mollie did not hear her, and the carriage passed her, and + Dolly sank back into her corner catching her breath. + </p> + <p> + “It was not a mistake,” she said; “it was true. It is worse than I + thought. Miss MacDowlas was right. It was no accident which brought them + both here. He is a cowardly scoundrel and is playing upon her ignorance. + If I had believed in him before, I should know that he is not to be + trusted now. She is walking on the edge of a precipice, and she thinks she + is safe and never dreams of its existence. Oh, Mollie! Mollie! the world + means nothing to you yet, and it is we who have to show you all the + thorns!” + </p> + <p> + She finished her errands and drove homeward as quickly as possible. She + could think of nothing but Mollie, and by the time she reached Barbrazon + Lodge her head ached with the unpleasant excitement. The servant who + opened the door met her with a piece of information. Mr. Gowan had called + to see her on some special business, and was awaiting her arrival in the + drawing-room. He had been there almost an hour. + </p> + <p> + She did not go to her room at all, but ran up-stairs to the drawing-room + quickly, feeling still more anxious. It was just possible that somebody + was ill, and Ralph Gowan had come to break the news to her because no one + else had been at liberty. With this idea uppermost, she opened the door + and advanced toward him, looking pale and troubled. + </p> + <p> + He met her half-way, and took her outstretched hand, looking troubled + himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are not very well,” he said at once. “I am sorry to see that.” And + his voice told her immediately that he had not come with good news. + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly, but when she sat down she put her hand to her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Am I pale, then?” she answered. “I suppose I must be. It is nothing but a + trifle of headache, and,” with a hesitant laugh, “that I half fancied you + had come to tell me something unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment,—so silent that she looked up at him with + a startled face. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> something unpleasant!” she exclaimed. “You have come with + ill news, and you are afraid to begin.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so bad as that,—not afraid, but rather reluctant,” he answered. + “It is <i>not</i> pleasant news; and but that I felt it would be wisest to + warn you at once, I would rather any one else had brought it. I have + stumbled upon a disagreeable report.” + </p> + <p> + “Report!” Dolly echoed, and her thoughts flew to Mollie again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed,” he said. “It is only a disagreeable one because the + subject of it has managed to connect himself with some one whose happiness + we value.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly rose from her chair and stood up, turning even paler than before. + </p> + <p> + “This some one whose happiness we value is Mollie,” she said. “And the + report you have heard is about Mr. Gerald Chandos. Am I not right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he returned, “you are right. The hero of the report is Gerald + Chandos.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he been doing?” she asked, sharply. “Don't hesitate, please. I + want to know.” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently both distressed and perplexed. He took two or three + hurried steps across the room, as if to give himself a little extra time + to settle his words into the best form. But Dolly could not wait. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “what has that man been doing?” + </p> + <p> + He turned round and answered her. + </p> + <p> + “He has been passing himself off to your brother as an unmarried man,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + She slipped back into her chair again, and wrung her hands passionately. + </p> + <p> + “And he is married?” she demanded. “Oh! how was it you did not know + this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it,” he returned. + “And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to + tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, and + I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end of a + boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent six + months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and Chandos + has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts occasionally.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite sure,” he replied; “but I wish I had greater reason to doubt + it.” + </p> + <p> + Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street + only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and + drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he + took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling her + blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, and + then spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, “in the first place I ought to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he said, “I promised to help you to care for Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to thank you,” she repeated. “And I do. But in the second place I + am going to ask you to do something for me which may be disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure,” he replied, “that I shall not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I think I am sure of that, or I should not ask you. I am + so eager about the matter, that I could not bear to waste the time. I want + you to help me. On Thursday afternoon I am going home. Can you trace this + report to its source before then, and let me know whether it is a true or + a false one?” + </p> + <p> + “I can try.” + </p> + <p> + She clasped both her gloved hands together on the small table before her, + and lifted to his such a determined young face and such steadfast eyes, + that he was quite impressed. She would rise in arms against the world for + poor, unwise Mollie, it was plain. It was not so safe a matter to trifle + in Vagabondia, it would seem,—that Gerald Chandos would find to his + cost. + </p> + <p> + “If you bring word to me that what you have heard is a truth,” she said, + “I can go to Mollie with my weapon in my hand, and I can end all at one + blow. However wilful and incredulous she may have been heretofore, she + will not attempt to resist me when I tell her that. It is a humiliating + thing to think he has insulted her by keeping his secret so far; but we + meet with such covert stings now and then in Vagabondia, and perhaps it + will prove a blessing in disguise. If we had used our authority to make + her dismiss him without having a decided reason to give her, she might + only have resented our intervention as being nothing but prejudice. As it + is, she will be frightened and angry.” + </p> + <p> + So it was agreed upon that he should take in hand the task of sifting the + affair to the bottom. His time was his own, and chance had thrown him + among men who would be likely to know the truth. As soon as he had gained + the necessary information, Dolly would hear from him, or he would call + upon her and give her all particulars. + </p> + <p> + “You have a whole day before you,—nearly two whole days, I may say, + for I shall not be likely to leave here until five or six o'clock on + Thursday,” Dolly said, when their rather lengthened interview terminated. + </p> + <p> + “I will make the most of my time,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Dolly stood at the window and watched him go down the walk to the gates. + </p> + <p> + “This is the something which was going to happen,” she commented. “Having + set matters straight with Grif, I suppose it is necessary, for the + maintenance of my self-control, that I should have a difficulty about + Mollie; but I think I could have retained my equilibrium without it.” + </p> + <p> + The two days passed quietly enough up to Thursday afternoon. Whatever + Ralph Gowan had discovered, he was keeping to himself for the present. He + had not written, and he had not called. Naturally, Dolly was impatient. + She began to be very impatient indeed, as the afternoon waned, and it + became dusk. Worse still, her old restlessness came upon her. She could + not make up her mind to leave Brabazon Lodge until she had either seen or + heard from Gowan, and she was afraid that if she lingered late Griffith + would arrive before her, and would be troubled by her non-appearance. + Since the night they had met in the street she had not seen him, and she + had much to say to him. She had looked forward anxiously to this evening, + and the few quiet hours they were to spend together in the dear old + disreputable parlor at Bloomsbury Place. They had spent so many blissful + evenings in that parlor, that the very thought of it made her heart beat + happily. Nobody would be there to interfere with them. The rest of the + family would, good-naturedly, vacate and leave them alone, and she would + take her old chair by the fire, and Grif would sit near her, and in ten + minutes after they had sat so together, they would have left all their + troubles behind them, and wandered off into a realm of tender dreams and + sweet unrealities. But, impatient as she was to be gone, Dolly could not + forget Mollie's interest. It was too near her heart to be forgotten. She + must attend to Mollie's affairs first, and then she could fly to Grif and + the parlor with an easy conscience. So she waited until five o'clock + before dressing to go out, and then, after watching at the window for a + while, she decided to go to her room and put on her hat and make all her + small preparations, so that when her visitor arrived she might be ready to + leave the house as soon as he did. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do to keep Grif waiting too long, even for Mollie's sake,” she + said. “I must consider him, too. If Mr. Gowan does not come by six or + half-past, I shall be obliged to go.” + </p> + <p> + She purposely prolonged her toilet, even though it had occupied a greater + length of time than usual in the first instance. There had been a new + acquisition in the shape of a dress to don, and one or two coquettish aids + to appearance, which were also novelties. But before six o'clock she was + quite ready, and, having nothing else to do, was reduced to the necessity + of standing before the glass and taking stock of herself and her attire. + </p> + <p> + “It fits,” she soliloquized, curving her neck in her anxiety to obtain a + back view of herself. “It fits like a glove, and so Grif will be sure to + like it. His admiration for clothes that fit amounts to a monomania. He + will make his usual ecstatic remarks on the subject of figure, too. And I + must confess,” with modest self-satisfaction,—"I must confess that + those frills are not unbecoming. If we were only rich—and married—how + I would dress, to please him! Being possessed of a figure, one's results + are never uncertain. Figure is a weakness of mine, also. With the + avoirdupois of Miss Jolliboy, life would appear a desert. Ten thousand per + annum would not console me. And yet she wears sables and seal-skin, and is + happy. It is a singular fact, worthy of the notice of the philosopher, + that it is such women who invariably possess the sable and seal-skin. Ah, + well!” charitably, “I suppose it is a dispensation of Providence. When + they attain that size they need some compensation.” + </p> + <p> + Often in after time she remembered the complacent little touch of vanity, + and wondered how it had been possible that she could stand there, making + so thoughtless and foolish a speech when danger was so near, and so much + of sharp, passionate suffering was approaching her. + </p> + <p> + She had waited until the last minute, and finding, on consulting her + watch, that it was past six, she decided to wait no longer. She took up + her gloves from the dressing-table and drew them on; she settled the + little drooping plume in her hat and picked up her muff, and then, giving + a last glance and a saucy nod to the piquant reflection in the glass, she + opened her bedroom door to go out. + </p> + <p> + And then it was, just at this last moment, that there came a ring at the + hall-door bell,—evidently a hurried ring, and withal a ring which + made her heart beat, she knew not why. + </p> + <p> + She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and + the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she heard. “Miss Crewe—wish to see her at once—at + once.” + </p> + <p> + She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for + the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and + entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her + with an exclamation of thankfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he said, “that you are ready!” He was pale with excitement, + and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. “You + must come with me,” he said. “There is not a moment to lose. I have a cab + at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true, and I + have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is not the + worst,—for God's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends upon + your courage,—he intends taking your sister with him.” + </p> + <p> + Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how much + might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she had + promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,—handsome, + lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rushing headlong and unconsciously to + misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she + turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so + before, had nodded at her pretty self in the glass; the excited blood + tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,—she + could not wait a breath's space. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” she exclaimed, “I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are + in the cab.” + </p> + <p> + She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give the + driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she learned + all. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had + succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though + he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries. In + the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who had + been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was, still + was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been roused to + such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings with the + intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there he had + made the fearful discovery that he had just left the place with “a pretty, + childish-looking girl,—tall, and with a lovely color,” as the + landlady described her; and he had known it was Mollie at once. + </p> + <p> + The good woman had given him all particulars. They had come to the house + together in a cab, and the young lady had not got out, but had remained + seated in it while her companion had given his orders to his servant + indoors. She—his housekeeper—had heard him say something about + Brussels, and, having caught a glimpse of the charming face in the vehicle + outside, she had watched it from behind the blinds, suspecting something + out of the common order of things. + </p> + <p> + “Not that he did not treat her polite and respectful enough,” she added; + “for he did and she—pretty young thing—seemed quite to expect + it, and not to be at all ashamed of herself, though she were a trifle shy + and timid. I even heard him ask her if she would rather he rode outside, + and she said she 'thought so, if he pleased,' And he bowed to her and + went, quite obedient. That was what puzzled me so; if he 'd ha' been + freer, I could have understood it.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not puzzle me!” cried Dolly, clenching her hands and fairly + panting for breath when she heard it. “He knows how innocent she is, and + he is too crafty to alarm her by his manner. Oh, cannot we make this man + drive faster?—cannot we make him drive faster?” + </p> + <p> + Gowan drew out his watch and referred to it. + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger of our losing their train,” he said. “It does not + leave the station until nearly seven, and it is not yet half-past six. If + they leave London to-night, we shall meet them; if they do not, I think I + can guess where we shall find them. Remember, you must not allow yourself + to become excited. We have only our coolness and readiness of action to + rely upon. If we lose our presence of mind, we lose all.” + </p> + <p> + He did not lose his presence of mind, at least. + </p> + <p> + Even in the midst of her distress, Dolly found time to feel grateful to + him beyond measure, and to admire his forethought. He never seemed to + hesitate for a moment. He had evidently decided upon his course + beforehand, and there was no delay. Reaching the station, he assisted + Dolly to descend from the cab and led her at once to a seat where she + could command a view of all who made their appearance upon the platform. + Then he left her and went to make inquiries from the officials. He was not + absent long. In a few minutes he returned with the necessary information. + The train was not due for twenty minutes, and as yet no lady and gentleman + answering to his description had been seen by any one in the place. + </p> + <p> + He came to Dolly and took a seat by her, looking down at her upturned, + appealing face pityingly, but reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “We are safe yet,” he said. “They have not arrived, and they can have + taken passage in no other train. We will watch this train leave the + station, and then we will drive at full speed to the hotel Chandos is in + the habit of visiting when he makes a flying journey. I know the place + well enough.” + </p> + <p> + The next half-hour was an anxious one to both. The train was behind time, + and consequently they were compelled to wait longer than they had + expected. A great many people crowded into the station and took tickets + for various points,—workingmen and their wives, old women with + bundles, and young ones without, comfortable people who travelled + first-class and seemed satisfied with themselves, shabbily attired little + dressmakers and milliners with bandboxes, a party of tourists, and a few + nice girls; in fact, the usual samples of people hurrying or taking it + easy, losing their temper or preserving it; but there was no Mollie. The + last moment arrived, the guards closed the carriage doors with the + customary bang, and the customary cry of “All right;” there were a few + puffs and a whistle, and then the train moved slowly out of the station. + Mollie was not on her way to Brussels yet; that was a fact to be depended + upon. + </p> + <p> + Dolly rose from her seat with a sigh which was half relief. + </p> + <p> + “Now for trying the hotel,” said Gowan. “Take my arm and summon up your + spirits. In less than a quarter of an hour, I think I may say, we shall + have found our runaway, and we shall have to do our best to reduce her + romantic escapade to a commonplace level. We may even carry her back to + Bloomsbury Place before they have had time to become anxious about her. + Thank Heaven, we were so fortunate as to discover all before it was too + late!” + </p> + <p> + Bloomsbury Place! A sudden pang shot through Dolly's heart. She + recollected then for the first time that at Bloomsbury Place Griffith was + waiting for her, and that it might be a couple of hours before she could + see him and explain. She got into the cab and leaned back in one corner, + with the anxious tears forcing themselves into her eyes. It seemed as if + fate itself was against her. + </p> + <p> + “What will he think?” she exclaimed, unconsciously. “Oh, what will he + think?” Then, seeing that Gowan had heard her, she looked at him + piteously. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to speak aloud,” she said. “I had forgotten in my trouble + that Grif will be waiting for me all this time. He has gone to the house + to meet me, and—I am not there.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he felt a slight pang, too. For some time he had been slowly + awakening, to the fact that this otherwise unfortunate Grif was all in all + to her, and shut out the rest of the world completely. He had no chance + against him, and no other man would have any. Still, even in the face of + this knowledge, the evident keenness of her disappointment cut him a + little. + </p> + <p> + “You must not let that trouble you,” he said, generously. “Donne will + easily understand your absence when you tell him where you have been. In + the meantime, I have a few suggestions to make before we reach the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + It was Mollie he was thinking of. He was wondrously tender of her in his + man's pity for her childish folly and simplicity. If possible, they must + keep her secret to themselves. If she had left no explanation behind her, + she must have given some reason for leaving the house, and if they found + her at the hotel it would not be a difficult matter to carry her back home + without exciting suspicion, and thus she would be saved the embarrassment + and comment her position would otherwise call down upon her. Griffith + might be told in confidence, but the rest of them might be left to imagine + that nothing remarkable had occurred. These were his suggestions. + </p> + <p> + Dolly agreed to adopt them at once, it is hardly necessary to say. The + idea that it would be possible to adopt them made the case look less + formidable. She had been terribly troubled at first by the thought of the + excitement the explanation of the escapade would cause at Bloomsbury + Place. Phil would have been simply furious,—not so much against + Mollie as against Chandos. His good-natured indifference to circumstances + would not have been proof against the base betrayal of confidence involved + in the affair. And then even in the after-time, when the worst was over + and forgotten, the innumerable jokes and thoughtless sarcasms she would + have had to encounter would have been Mollie's severest punishment. When + the remembrance of her past danger had faded out of the family mind, and + the whimsical side of the matter presented itself, they would have teased + her, and Dolly felt that such a course would be far from safe. So she + caught at Ralph Gowan's plan eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Still she felt an excited thrill when the cab drew up before the door of + the hotel. Suppose they should not find her? Suppose Chandos had taken + precautions against their being followed? + </p> + <p> + But Gowan did not seem to share her misgivings, though the expression upon + his face was a decidedly disturbed one as he descended from the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “You must remain seated until I come back,” he said. “I shall not be many + minutes, I am sure. I am convinced they are here.” And then he closed the + cab door and left her. + </p> + <p> + She drew out her watch and sat looking at it to steady herself. Her mind + was not very clear as to how she intended to confront Mr. Gerald Chandos + and convince Mollie. The convincing of Mollie would not be difficult, she + was almost sure, but the confronting of Gerald Chandos was not a pleasant + thing to think of. + </p> + <p> + She was just turning over in her mind a stirring, scathing speech, when + the cab door opened again, and Gowan stood before her. He had not been + absent five minutes. + </p> + <p> + “It is as I said it would be,” he said. “They are here,—at least + Mollie is here. Chandos has gone out, and she is alone in the private + parlor he has engaged for her. They have evidently missed their train. + They intended to leave by the first in the morning. I have managed to give + the impression that we are expected, and so we shall be shown on to the + scene at once without any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + And so they were. A waiter met them at the entrance and led them up-stairs + without the slightest hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary to announce us,” said Gowan. And the man threw open + the door of No. 2 with a bow. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the threshold together without speaking, and when the door + closed behind them they turned and looked at each other with a + simultaneous but half-smothered exclamation. + </p> + <p> + It was a pretty room, bright with a delicate gay-hued carpet and thick + white rugs, numerous mirrors and upholstering of silver-gray and blue. + There was a clear-burning fire in the highly polished steel-grate, and one + of the blue and silver-gray sofas had been drawn up to it, and there, upon + this sofa, lay Mollie with her hand under her cheek, sleeping like a baby. + </p> + <p> + They were both touched to the heart by the mere sight of her. There was + something in the perfect repose of her posture and expression that was + childish and restful. It was a difficult matter to realize that she was + sleeping on the brink of ruin and desolation. Something bright gathered on + Dolly's lashes and slipped down her cheek as she looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, we have found her!” she said. “Just to think that she should + be sleeping like that,—as if she was at home. If she was two years + old she might wear just such a look.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan hardly liked to stand by as she went toward the sofa. The girl's + face, under the coquettish hat, seemed to grow womanly, her whole figure + seemed to soften as she knelt down upon the carpet by the couch and laid + her hand upon Mollie's shoulder, speaking to her gently. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “dear, waken.” + </p> + <p> + Just that, and Mollie started up with a faint cry, dazzled by the light, + and rubbing her eyes and her soft, flushed cheeks, just as she had done + the night Gowan surprised her asleep in the parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she cried out, when she saw who was with her,—"Dolly,” in a + half-frightened voice, “why did you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to take you home,” answered Dolly, tremulously, but firmly. “Thank + God! I am not too late! Oh, Mollie, Mollie, how could you?” + </p> + <p> + Mollie sat up among her blue and gray cushions and stared at her for a + moment, as if she was not wide enough awake to realize what she meant. But + the next instant she caught sight of Ralph Gowan, and that roused her + fully, and she flushed scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” she said. “I don't know what you mean by + coming here in this way. And I don't know what Mr. Gowan means by bringing + you,—for I feel sure he has brought you. I am not a baby, to be + followed as if I could not take care of myself. I am going to be married + to Mr. Gerald Chandos to-morrow, and we are going on the Continent for our + wedding tour.” + </p> + <p> + She was in a high state of rebellion. It was Gowan's presence she was + resenting, not Dolly's. To tell the truth, she was rather glad to see + Dolly. She had begun to feel the loneliness of her position, and it had + half intimidated her. But the sight of Gowan roused her spirit. What right + had he to come and interfere with her, since he did not care for her and + thought she was nothing but a child? It made her feel like a child. She + turned her back to him openly as she spoke to Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to be married in the morning,” she repeated; “and we are going + to Brussels.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in her indignation against Mr. Gerald Chandos, Dolly fired a little + herself. + </p> + <p> + “And has it never occurred to you,” she said, “that it is rather a + humiliating thing this running away, as if you knew you were doing + something disgraceful? May I ask what reason Mr. Gerald Chandos gives for + asking you to submit to such an insult, for it is an insult?” + </p> + <p> + “He has very good reasons,” answered Mollie, beginning to falter all at + once, as the matter was presented to her in this new and trying light. “He + has very good reasons,—something about business and—and his + family, and he does not intend to insult me. He is very fond of me and + very proud of me, and he is going to try to make me very happy. He—he + has bought me a beautiful trousseau—” And then, seeing the two + exchange indignant yet pitying glances, she broke off suddenly and burst + forth as if she was trying to hide in anger the subtle, mysterious fear + which was beginning to creep upon her. “How dare you look at each other + so!” she cried. “How dare you look at me so! I have done nothing wrong. He + says many other people do the same thing and—and I won't be looked + at so. I shall not tell you another word. You—you look as if I was + going to do something wicked and dreadful.” And she flung herself face + downward upon the sofa cushions and broke into a passionate, excited sob. + </p> + <p> + Then Dolly could control herself no longer. She flashed out into a storm + of wrath and scorn against this cool, systematic scoundrel, who would have + wrought such harm against such simple ignorance of the world. What had + they not saved her from, poor, foolish child? She clenched her little, + gloved hand and struck it against the sofa arm, the hot color flaming up + on her cheeks and the fire lighting in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie!” she exclaimed, “that is what is true! You are going to do + something that is dreadful to think of, though you do not think so because + you do not know the truth. And we have come to tell you the truth and save + you. That man is a villain,—he is the worst of villains. He does not + intend to marry you,—he cannot marry you, and, knowing he cannot, he + has been laying traps for months to drag you down into a horrible pit of + shame. Yes, of the bitterest grief and shame,—poor, simple child as + you are,—for I must tell you the whole dreadful truth, though I + would far rather hide it from you, if I could. There are some wicked, + wicked men in the world, Mollie, and Gerald Chandos is one of the worst, + for he has got a wife already.” + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to be Mollie who sprang up from her cushions and + confronted them with wide-opened eyes. Every bit of color had died out of + her cheeks and lips, and she turned from one to the other with a wild, + appealing look. + </p> + <p> + “It is n't true,” she insisted, desperately; but her voice was broken, and + she sobbed out her words in her fright. “It is n't true! It is n't true! + You want to frighten me.” And all at once she ran to Ralph Gowan like a + child, and caught hold of his arm with her pretty, shaking hands. “Mr. + Gowan,” she said, “you know, don't you? and you won't—you won't—Oh, + where is Aimée? I want Aimée! Aimée is n't like the rest of you! <i>She</i> + would have made me go home without being so cruel as this.” And the next + minute she turned so white and staggered so, that Dolly ran to her, and + Gowan was obliged to take her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her that what I have said is true,” said Dolly, crying. “She will + begin to understand then.” + </p> + <p> + And so, while he held her, panting and sobbing and clinging to him, Gowan + told her all that he had learned. He was as brief as possible and as + tender as a woman. His heart so warmed toward the pretty, lovable, + passionately frightened creature, that his voice was far from steady as he + told his story. + </p> + <p> + She did not rebel an instant longer, then. Her terror, under the shock, + rendered her only helpless and hysterical. She had so far lost control + over herself that she would have believed anything they had chosen to tell + her. + </p> + <p> + “Take me away,” she cried, whitening and shivering, all her bright, pretty + color gone, all her wilful petulance struck down at a blow. “Take me home,—take + me home to Aimée. I want to go away from here before he comes. I want to + go home and die.” + </p> + <p> + How they got her down-stairs and into the carriage, Dolly scarcely knows. + It was enough that they got her there and knew she was safe. Upon the + table in the room above they had left a note directed to Mr. Gerald + Chandos,—Dolly had directed it and Dolly had written it. + </p> + <p> + “Is there pen and ink here?” she had asked Gowan; and when he had produced + the articles, she had bent over the table and dashed a few lines off with + an unsteady yet determined hand. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she had said, when she closed the envelope. “Mr. Chandos will go + to Brussels, I think, and he will understand why he goes alone, and, for + my part, I incline to the belief that he will not trouble us again.” + </p> + <p> + And in five minutes more they were driving toward Bloomsbury Place. + </p> + <p> + But now the first excitement was over, Dolly's nerve began to fail her. + Now that Mollie was safe, she began to think of Griffith. It seemed a + cruel trick of fortune's to try his patience so sharply just at this very + point. She knew so well what effect his hours of waiting would have upon + him. But it was useless to rebel now; so she must bear it as well as she + could, and trust to the result of her explanation. Yet despite her hope, + every minute of the long drive seemed an age, and she grew feverish and + restless and wretched. What if he had not waited, and was not there to + listen to what she had to say? Then there would be all the old trouble to + face again,—perhaps something worse. + </p> + <p> + “It is nine o'clock,” she said, desperately, as they passed a lighted + church tower. “It is nine o'clock.” And she leaned back in her corner + again, with her heart beating strongly. Her disappointment was so keen + that she could have burst into a passion of tears. Her happy evening was + gone, and her dream of simple pleasure had fled with its sacrificed hours. + She could not help remembering this, and being quite conquered by the + thought, even though Mollie was safe. + </p> + <p> + They had settled what to do beforehand. At the corner of the street Gowan + was to leave them, and the two girls were to go in together, Mollie making + her way at once to her room upon pretext of headache. A night's rest would + restore her self-control, and by the next morning she would be calm enough + to face the rest, and so her wild escapade would end without risk of + comment if she was sufficiently discreet to keep her own counsel. At + present she was too thoroughly upset and frightened even to feel + humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly half-past nine,” said Gowan, as he assisted them to descend to the + pavement at their journey's end. + </p> + <p> + The light from an adjacent lamp showed him that the face under Dolly's hat + was very pale and excited, and her eyes were shining and large with + repressed tears as she gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot find words to thank you just yet,” she said, low and hurriedly. + “I wish I could; but—you know what you have helped me to save Mollie + from to-night, and so you know what my gratitude must be. The next time I + see you, perhaps, I shall be able to say what I wish, but now I can only + say goodnight, and—oh, God bless you!” And the little hand fairly + wrung his. + </p> + <p> + Mollie shook hands with him, trembling and almost reluctantly. She was + pale, too, and her head drooped as if it would nevermore regain the old + trick of wilful, regal carriage. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very kind to take so much trouble,” she said. “You were + kinder than I deserved,—both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Dolly, when he sprang into the cab, and they turned away + together,—"now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. + No,” trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great + matter, “you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over + now, and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You + have been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is + all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and a + headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a + heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow—but it isn't. But, Mollie,” + they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and she + turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking + tremulously, “when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say + your prayers, and thank God that it is n't,—thank God that it is + n't, with all your heart and soul.” And she kissed her cheek softly just + as they heard Aimée coming down the hall to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly!” she exclaimed when she saw them, “where have you been? Griffith + has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given + you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by + something.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been delayed by something,” said Dolly, her heart failing her + again. “And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, + Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely ten minutes,” was the answer. “It is a wonder you did not meet + him. Oh, Dolly!” ominously, “how unlucky you are!” + </p> + <p> + Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i> unlucky,” she said; and without saying more, she made her way + into the parlor. + </p> + <p> + She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless + of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the + room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its + cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk + low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;—somehow + or other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late for + the brightness and warmth,—a few hours before it had been bright and + warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now? She + dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed + feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and + had gone home! + </p> + <p> + “It's too bad!” she cried. “It is cruel! I can't bear it! Oh, Grif, <i>do</i> + come!” And her tears fell thick and fast. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later she started up with a little cry of joy and relief. That + was his footstep upon the pavement, and before he had time to ring she was + at the door. She could scarcely speak to him in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Grif!” she said; “Grif—darling!” + </p> + <p> + But he did not offer to touch her, and strode past her outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “Come into this room with me,” he said, hoarsely; and the simple sound of + his voice struck her to the heart like a blow. + </p> + <p> + She followed him, trembling, and when they stood in the light, and she saw + his deathly, passion-wrung face, her hand crept up to her side and pressed + against it. + </p> + <p> + He had a package in his hand,—a package of letters,—and he + laid them down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I have been home for these,” he said. “Your letters,—I have brought + them back to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Grif!” she cried out. + </p> + <p> + He waved her back. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “never mind that. It is too late for that now, that is all + over. Good God! all over!” and he panted for breath. “I have been in this + room waiting for you,” he struggled on, “since five o'clock. I came with + my heart full to the brim. I have dreamt about what this evening was to be + to us every night for a week. I was ready to kneel and kiss your feet. I + waited hour after hour. I was ready to pray—yes, to <i>pray</i>, + like a fool—that I might hold you in my arms before the night ended. + Not half an hour ago I went out to see if you were coming. And you were + coming. At the corner of the street you were bidding good-night to—to + Ralph Gowan—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she burst forth. “Mollie was with me— + </p> + <p> + “Ralph Gowan was with you,” he answered her; “it does not matter who else + was there. You had spent those hours in which I wanted you with him. That + was enough,—nothing can alter that.” And then all at once he came + and stood near her, and looked down at her with such anguish in his eyes + that she could have shrieked aloud. “It was a poor trick to play, Dolly,” + he said; “so poor a one, that it was scarcely like you. Your coquetries + had always a fairer look. The commonest jilt might have done such a thing + as that, and almost have done it better. It is an old trick, too, this + playing the poor fool against the rich one. The only merit of your play + has been that you have kept it up so long.” + </p> + <p> + He was almost mad, but he might have seen that he was trying her too far, + and that she would break down all at once. The long strain of the whole + evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against wretchedness—all + were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak, and, failing, fought + for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical sob, like a child's, + and then turned white and shivered, without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “a long time, Dolly"—but his sentence was never + ended, for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay + near his feet quivering for a second, and then lying still. + </p> + <p> + He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and + carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to + have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its + simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was mad + enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the cruel, + ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when he turned + away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had died out of his + face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very youth had dropped away + from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams behind, with something like + self-scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said; “we have lost a great deal, Dolly—or I have lost + it, I might say. And even you—I believe it pleased even you until + better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out + into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when, a few + minutes later, Aimée came running down to answer the strange summons, she + found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face upon the + sofa-cushion, and the great package of those old, sweet, foolish letters + upon the table. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER. + </h2> + <p> + IT was all over,—all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this + much when she opened her eyes, and found Aimée bending over her. + </p> + <p> + “Has he gone?” she had asked. “Did he go away and leave me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean Grif?” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + She made a weak gesture of assent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Aimée answered. “He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and + found you lying here when I came to see what it meant.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Dolly, “all is over,—all is over at last.” And she + turned her face upon the cushion and lay so still that she scarcely seemed + to breathe. + </p> + <p> + “Take another drink of water, Dolly,” said Aimée, keeping back her + questions with her usual discretion. “You must, dear.” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly did not stir. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any more,” she said. “I am not going to faint again. You + have no need to be afraid. I don't easily faint, you know, and I should + not have fainted just now only—that the day has been a very hard one + for me, and somehow I lost strength all at once. I am not ill,—only + worn out.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be very much worn out, then,” said Aimée; “more worn out than I + ever saw you before. You had better let me help you up-stairs to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to bed yet!” in a strange, choked voice, and the next + moment Aimée saw her hands clench themselves and her whole frame begin to + shake. “Shut the door and lock it,” she said, wildly. “I can't stop + myself. Give me some sal volatile. I can't breathe.” And such a fit of + suffocating sobbing came upon her that she writhed and battled for air. + </p> + <p> + Aimée flung herself upon her knees by her side, shedding tears herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly,” she pleaded, “Dolly, darling, don't. Try to help yourself + against it. I know what the trouble is. He went away angry and + disappointed, and it has frightened you. Oh, please don't, darling. He + will come back to-morrow; he will, indeed. He always does, you know, and + he will be so sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone forever,” Dolly panted, when she could speak. “He will never + come back. To-night has been different from any other time. No,” gasping + and sobbing, “it is fate. Fate is against us,—it always was against + us. I think God is against us; and oh, how can He be? He might pity us,—we + tried so hard and loved each other so much. We did n't ask for anything + but each other,—we did n't want anything but that we might be + allowed to cling together all our lives and work and help each other. Oh, + Grif, my darling,—oh, Grif, my dear, my dear!” And the sobs rising + again and conquering her were such an agony that Aimée caught her in her + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, “you must not, you must not, indeed. You will die, you + can't bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she wailed, “I can't bear it,—that is what it is. I can't bear + it. It is too hard to bear. But there is no one to help me,—God + won't. He does not care for us, or He would have given us just one little + crumb out of all He has to give. What can a poor helpless girl be to Him? + He is too high and great to care for our poor little powerless griefs. Oh, + how wicked I am!” in a fresh burst. “See how I rebel at the first real + blow. It is because I am so wicked, perhaps, that all has been taken from + me,—all I had in the world. It is because I loved Grif best. I have + read in books that it was always so. Oh, why is it? I can't understand it. + It seems cruel,—yes, it does seem cruel,—as cruel as death, to + give him to me only that I might suffer when he was taken away. Oh, Grif, + my darling! Grif, my love, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + This over again and again, with wild, heart-broken weeping, until she was + so worn out that she could cry no more, and lay upon Aimée's arm upon the + cushion, white and exhausted, with heavy purple rings about her wearied, + sunken eyes. It was not until then that Aimée heard the whole truth. She + had only been able to guess at it before, and now, hearing the + particulars, she could not help fearing the worst. + </p> + <p> + It was just as she had feared it would be; another blow had come upon him + at the very time when he was least able to bear it, and it had been too + much for him. But she could not reveal her forebodings to Dolly. She must + comfort her and persuade her to hope for the best. + </p> + <p> + “You must go to bed, Dolly,” she said, “and try to sleep, and in the + morning everything will look different. He may come, you know,—it + would be just like him to come before breakfast. But if he does not come—suppose,” + hesitatingly,—"suppose I was to write to him, or—suppose you + were to?” + </p> + <p> + She was half afraid that pride would rise against this plan, but she was + mistaken. Seven years of love had mastered pride. Somehow or other, pride + had never seemed to come between them in their little quarrels, each had + always been too passionately eager to concede, and too sure of being met + with tenderest penitence. Dolly had always known too confidently that her + first relenting word would touch Grifs heart, and Grif had always been + sure that his first half-softened reproach would bring the girl to his + arms in an impetuous burst of loving repentance. No, it was scarcely + likely that other people's scruples would keep them apart. So Dolly caught + at the proposal almost eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I will write and tell him how it was. It was not his + fault, was it, Aimée? How could I have borne such a thing myself? It would + have driven me wild, as it did him. It was not unreasonable at all that he + should refuse to listen, in his first excitement, after he had waited all + those hours and suffered such a disappointment. And then to see what he + did. My poor boy! he was not to blame at all. Yes, yes,” feverishly, “I + will write to him and tell him. Suppose I write now—don't you think + I had better do it now, and then he will get the letter in the morning, + and he will be sure to come before dinner,—he will be sure to come, + won't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He always did,” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Always,” said Dolly. “Indeed, I never had to write to him before to bring + him. He always came without being written to. There never was any one like + him for being tender and penitent. You always said so, Aimée. And just + think how often I have tried his patience! I sometimes wish I could help + doing things,—flirting, you know, and making a joke of it. He never + flirted in his life, poor darling, and what right had I to do it? When he + comes to-morrow I will tell him how sorry I am for everything, and I will + promise to be better. I have not been half so good as he has. I wish I + had. I should not have hurt him so often if I had.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been a little thoughtless sometimes,” said Aimée. “Perhaps it <i>would</i> + have been better if you could have helped it.” + </p> + <p> + “A little thoughtless,” said Dolly, restlessly. “I have been wickedly + thoughtless sometimes. And I have made so many resolutions and broken them + all. And I ought to have been doubly thoughtful, because he had so much to + bear. If he had been prosperous and happy it would not have mattered half + so much. But it was all my vanity. You don't know how vain I am, Aimée. I + quite hate myself when I think of it. It is the wanting people to admire + me,—everybody, men and women, and even children,—particularly + among Lady Augusta's set, where there is a sort of fun in it. And then I + flirt before I know; and then, of course, Grif cannot help seeing it. I + wonder that he has borne with me so long.” + </p> + <p> + She was quite feverish in her anxiety to condemn herself and exculpate her + lover. She did not droop her face against the pillow, but roused herself, + turning toward Aimée, and talking fast and eagerly. A bright spot of color + came out on either cheek, though for the rest she was pale enough. But to + Aimée's far-seeing eyes there was something so forced and unnaturally + strung in her sudden change of mood that she felt a touch of dread Suppose + something should crush her newly formed hopes,—something terrible + and unforeseen! She felt a chill strike her to the heart at the mere + thought of such a possibility. She knew Dolly better than the rest of them + did,—knew her highly strung temperament, and feared it, too. She + might be spirited and audacious and thoughtless, but a blow coming through + Grif would crush her to the earth. + </p> + <p> + “You—you mustn't set your heart too much upon his getting the letter + in the morning, Dolly,” she said. “He might be away when it came, or—or + twenty things, and he might not see it until night, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dolly, “I will write it at once if you will give me the pen + and ink. The earlier it is posted the earlier he will get it.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to rise then; but when she stood up her strength seemed to fail + her, and she staggered and caught at Aimee's arm. But the next minute she + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “How queer that one little faint should make me so weak!” she said. “I am + weak,—actually. I shall feel right enough when I sit down, though.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down at the table with her writing materials, and Aimée remained + upon the sofa watching her. Her hand trembled when she wrote the first few + lines, but she seemed to become steadier afterward, and her pen dashed + over the paper without a pause for a few minutes. The spot of color on her + cheeks faded and burned by turns,—sometimes it was gone, and again + it was scarlet, and before the second page was finished tears were falling + soft and fast. Once she even stopped to wipe them away, because they + blinded her; but when she closed the envelope she did not look exactly + unhappy, though her whole face was tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “He will come back,” she said, softly. “He will come back when he reads + this, I know. I wish it was to-morrow. To-morrow night he will be here, + and we shall have our happy evening after all. I can excuse myself to Miss + MacDowlas for another day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Aimée, a trifle slowly, as she took <i>it</i> from her hand. + “I will send Belinda out with it now.” And she carried it out of the room. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes she returned. “She has taken it,” she said. “And now you + had better go to bed, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + But Dolly's color had faded again, and she was resting her forehead upon + her hands, with a heavy, anxious, worn look, which spoke of sudden + reaction. She lifted her face with a half-absent air. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will be in time for to-night's post,” she said. “Do you think + it will?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite sure, but I hope so. You must come to bed, Dolly.” + </p> + <p> + She got up without saying more, and followed her out into the hall, but at + the foot of the staircase she stopped. “I have not seen Tod,” she said. + “Let us go into 'Toinette's room and ask her to let us have him to-night. + We can carry him up-stairs without wakening him. I have done it many a + time. I should like to have him in my arms to-night.” + </p> + <p> + So they turned into Mrs. Phil's room, and found that handsome young matron + sitting in her dressing-gown before the fire, brushing out her great dark + mantle of hair. + </p> + <p> + “Don't waken Tod,” she cried out, as usual; and then when she saw Dolly + she broke into a whispered volley of wondering questions. Where in the + world had she been? What had she been doing with herself until such an + hour? Where was Grif? Was n't he awfully vexed? What had he said when she + came in? All of which inquiries the two parried as best they might. + </p> + <p> + As to Tod—well, Tod turned her thoughts in another direction. He was + a beauty, and a king, and a darling, and he was growing sweeter and + brighter every day,—which comments, by the way, were always the + first made upon the subject of the immortal Tod. He was so amiable, too, + and so clever and so little trouble. He went to sleep in his crib every + night at seven, and never awakened until morning. Aunt Dolly might look at + him now with those two precious middle fingers in his little mouth. And + Aunt Dolly did look at him, lifting the cover slightly, and bending over + him as he lay there making a deep dent in his small, plump pillow,—a + very king of babies, soft and round and warm, the white lids drooped and + fast closed over his dark eyes, their long fringes making a faint shadow + on his fair, smooth baby cheeks, the two fingers in his sweet mouth, the + round, cleft chin turned up, the firm, tiny white pillar of a throat bare. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my bonny baby!” cried Dolly, the words rising from the bottom of her + heart, “how fair and sweet you are!” + </p> + <p> + They managed to persuade Mrs. Phil to allow them to take possession of him + for the night; and when they went up-stairs Dolly carried him, folded + warmly in his downy blanket, and held close and tenderly in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Dolly's precious!” Aimée heard her whispering to him as she gave him + a last soft good-night kiss before they fell asleep. “Aunt Dolly's + comfort! Everything is not gone so long as he is left.” + </p> + <p> + But she evidently passed a restless night. When Aimée awakened in the + morning she found her standing by the bedside, dressed and looking + colorless and heavy-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “I never was so glad to see morning in my life,” she said. “I thought the + day would never break. I—I wonder how long it will be before Grif + will be reading his letter?” + </p> + <p> + “He may get it before nine o'clock,” answered Aimée; “but don't trouble + about it, or the day will seem twice as long. Take Tod down-stairs and + wash and dress him. It will give you something else to think of.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one herself had not slept well. Truth to say, she was troubled + about more matters than one. She was troubled to account for the meaning + of Dolly's absence with Gowan. Even in her excitement, Dolly had not felt + the secret quite her own, and had only given a skeleton explanation of the + true state of affairs. + </p> + <p> + “It was something about Mollie and Gerald Chan-dos,” she had said; “and if + I had not gone it would have been worse than death to Mollie. Don't ask me + to tell you exactly what it was, because I can't. Perhaps Mollie will + explain herself before many days are over. She always tells you + everything, you know. But it was no real fault of here; she was silly, but + not wicked, and she is safe from Gerald Chandos now forever. And <i>I</i> + saved her, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + And so the wise one had lain awake and thought of all sorts of possible + and impossible escapades. But as she was dressing herself this morning, + the truth flashed upon her, though it was scarcely the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + “She was going to elope with him,” she exclaimed all at once; “<i>that</i> + was what she was going to do. Oh, Mollie, Mollie, what a romantic goose + you are!” + </p> + <p> + And having reached this solution, she closed her small, determined mouth + in discreet silence, resolving to wait for Mollie's confession, which she + knew was sure to come sooner or later. As to Mollie herself, she came down + subdued and silent. She had slept off the effects of her first shock, but + had by no means forgotten it. She would never forget it, poor child, as + long as she lived, and she was so grateful to find herself safe in the + shabby rooms again, that she had very little to say; and since she was in + so novel a mood, the members of the family who were not in the secret + decided that her headache must have been a very severe one indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say anything to her about Grif,” Dolly cautioned Aimée, “it would + only trouble her.” And so the morning passed; but even at twelve o'clock + there was no Grif, and Dolly began to grow restless and walk to and fro + from the window to the hearth at very short intervals. Dinner-hour + arrived, too, but still no arrival; and Dolly sat at the table, among + them, eating nothing and saying little enough. How could she talk when + every step upon the pavement set her heart bounding? When dinner was over + and Phil had gone back to the studio, she looked so helpless and + woe-begone that Aimée felt constrained to comfort her. + </p> + <p> + “It may have been delayed,” she whispered to her, “or he may have left the + house earlier than usual, and so won't see it until to-night. He will be + here to-night, Dolly, depend upon it.” + </p> + <p> + And so they waited. Ah, how that window was watched that afternoon! How + often Dolly started from her chair and ran to look out, half suffocated by + her heart-beatings! But it was of no avail. As twilight came on she took + her station before it, and knelt upon the carpet for an hour watching; but + in the end she turned away all at once, and, running to the fire again, + caught Tod up in her arms, and startled Aimée by bursting into a passion + of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tod!” she sobbed, “he is not coming! He will never come again,—he + has left us forever! Oh, Tod, love poor Aunt Dolly, darling.” And she hid + her face on the little fellow's shoulder, crying piteously. + </p> + <p> + She did not go to the window again. When she was calmer, she remained on + her chair, colorless and exhausted, but clinging to Tod still in a queer + pathetic way, and letting him pull at her collar and her ribbons and her + hair. The touch of his relentless baby hands and his pretty, tyrannical, + restless ways seemed to help her a little and half distract her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + She became quieter and quieter as the evening waned; indeed, she was so + quiet that Aimée wondered. She was strangely pale; but she did not start + when footsteps were heard on the street, and she ceased turning toward the + door when it opened. + </p> + <p> + “He—he may come in the morning,” Aimée faltered as they went + up-stairs to bed. + </p> + <p> + “No, he will not,” she answered her, quite steadily. “It will be as I said + it would,—he will never come again.” + </p> + <p> + But when they reached their room, the unnatural, strained quiet gave way, + and she flung herself upon the bed, sobbing and fighting against just the + hysterical suffering which had conquered her the night before. + </p> + <p> + It was the very ghost of the old indomitable Dolly who rose the next + morning. Her hands shook as she dressed her hair, and there were shadows + under her eyes. But she must go back to Brabazon Lodge, notwithstanding. + </p> + <p> + “I can say I have a nervous headache,” she said to Aimée. “Nervous + headaches are useful things.” + </p> + <p> + “If a letter comes,” said Aimée, “I will bring it to you myself.” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned toward her suddenly, her eyes hard and bright and her + mouth working. + </p> + <p> + “I have had my last letter,” she said. “My last letters came to me when + Grif laid that package upon the table. He has done with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Done with you?” cried Aimée, frightened by her manner. “With <i>you</i>, + Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time Dolly flushed scarlet to the very roots of her + hair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “he has done with me. If there had been half a chance + that he would ever come near me again, the letter I wrote to him that + night would have brought him. A word of it would have brought him,—the + first word. But he is having his revenge by treating it with contempt. He + is showing me that it is too late, and that no humility on my part can + touch him. I scarcely could have thought that of him,” dropping into a + chair by the toilet-table and hiding her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It is not like Grif to let me humble myself for nothing. And I did humble + myself,—ah, how I did humble myself! That letter,—if you could + have seen it, Aimée,—it was all on fire with love for him. I laid + myself under his feet,—and he has trodden me down! Grif—Grif, + it was n't like you,—it was n't worthy of you,—it was n't + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Her worst enemy would have felt herself avenged if she had heard the + anguish in her voice. She was crushed to the earth under this last great + blow of feeling that he had altered so far. Grif,—her whilom + greatest help and comfort,—the best gift God had given her! Dear, + old, tender, patient fellow! as she had been wont to call him in her fits + of penitence. + </p> + <p> + Grif, whose arms had always been open to her at her best and at her worst, + who had loved her and borne with her, and waited upon her and done her + bidding since they were both little more than children. When had Grif ever + turned from her before? Never. When had Grif ever been cold or unfaithful + in word or deed? Never. When had he ever failed her? Never—never—never—until + now! And now that he had failed her at last, she felt that the bitter end + had come. The end to everything,—to all the old hopes and dreams, to + all the old sweet lovers' quarrels and meetings and partings, to all their + clinging together, to all the volumes and volumes of love and trust that + lay in the past, to all the world of simple bliss that lay still + unrevealed in their lost future, to all the blessed old days when they had + pictured to each other what that future was to be. It had all gone for + nothing in the end. It must all have gone for nothing, when Grif—a + new Grif—not her own true, stanch, patient darling—not her own + old lover—could read her burning, tender, suffering words and pass + them by without a word of answer. And with this weight of despair and pain + upon her heart, she went back to the wearisome routine of Brabazon Lodge,—went + back heavy with humiliation and misery which she scarcely realized,—went + back suffering as no one who knew her—not even Grif himself—could + ever have understood that it was possible for her to suffer. No innocent + coquetries now, no spirit, no jests; for the present at least she had done + with them, too. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in your usual spirits, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, quietly, “I am not.” + </p> + <p> + This state of affairs continued for four days, and then one morning, + sitting at her sewing in the breakfast-room, she was startled almost + beyond self-control by a servant's announcement that a visitor had + arrived. + </p> + <p> + “One of your sisters, ma'am,” said the parlor-maid. “Not the youngest, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + She was in the room in two seconds, and flew to Aimée, trembling all over + with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Not a letter!” she cried, hysterically. “It is n't a letter,—it + can't be!” And she put her hand to her side and fairly panted. + </p> + <p> + The poor little wise one confronted her with something like fear. She + could not bear to tell her the ill news she had come to break. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly, dear!” she said, “please sit down; and—please don't look at + me so. It isn't good news. I must tell you the truth; it is bad news, + cruel news. Oh, don't look so!” + </p> + <p> + They were standing near the sofa, and Dolly gave one little moan, and sank + down beside it. + </p> + <p> + “Cruel news!” she cried, throwing up her hand. “Yes, I might have known + that,—I might have known that it would be cruel, if it was news at + all Every one is cruel,—the whole world is cruel; even Grif,—even + Grif!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dolly, I did my best for you!” she said. “I did, indeed; but you must + try to bear it, dear,—it is your own letter back again.” + </p> + <p> + Then the kneeling figure seemed to stiffen and grow rigid in a second. + Dolly turned her deathly face, with her eyes aflame and dilated. + </p> + <p> + “Did <i>he</i> send it back to me?” she asked, in a slow, fearful whisper. + </p> + <p> + Her expression was so hard and dreadful a one that Aimée sprang to her + side and caught hold of her. + </p> + <p> + “No,—no!” she said; “not so bad as that! He would never have done + that. He has never had it. He has gone away; we don't know where. It came + from the dead-letter office.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly took the letter from her and opened it slowly, and there, as she + knelt, read it, word for word, as if it had been something she had never + seen before. Then she put it back into the envelope and laid it down. + </p> + <p> + “A dead letter!” she said. “A dead letter! If <i>he</i> had sent it back + to me, I think it would have cured me; but <i>now</i> there is no cure for + me at all. If he had read it, he would have come,—if he had <i>only</i> + read it; but it is a dead letter, and he is gone.” + </p> + <p> + There were no tears, the blow had been too heavy. It was only Aimée who + had tears to shed, and it was Dolly who tried to console her in a + strained, weary sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” she said, “it is all over now. Perhaps the worst part of the + pain is past. There will be no house at Putney, and the solitary rose-bush + will bloom for some one else; they may sell the green sofa, now, as cheap + as they will, we shall never buy it. Our seven years of waiting have all + ended in a dead letter.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS. + </h2> + <p> + AND so Grif disappeared from the haunts of Vagabondia, and was seen no + more. And to Aimée was left the delicate task of explaining the cause of + his absence, which, it must be said, she did in a manner at once + creditable to her tact and affection for both Dolly and the unconscious + cause of all her misery. + </p> + <p> + “There has been a misunderstanding,” she said, “which was no fault of + Dolly's, and scarcely a fault of Grif's; and it has ended very unhappily, + and Grif has gone away, and just at present it seems as if everything was + over,—but I can't help hoping it is not so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he will come back again—safe enough,” commented Phil, + philosophically, holding paint-brush No. 1 in his mouth, while he + manipulated with No. 2. “He will come back in sackcloth and ashes; he is + just that sort, you know,—thunder and lightning, fire and tow. And + they will make it up ecstatically in secret, and pretend that nothing has + been the matter, and there will be no going into the parlor for weeks + without whistling all the way across the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I always go in backward after they have had a quarrel,” said Mollie, + looking up from a half-made pinafore of Tod's, which, in the zeal of her + repentance, she had decided on finishing. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bad plan, either,” said Phil “We all know how <i>their</i> + differences of opinion terminate. As to matters being at an end between + them, that is all nonsense; they could n't live without each other six + months. Dolly would take to unbecoming bonnets, and begin to neglect her + back hair, and Grif would take to prussic acid or absinthe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope he <i>will</i> come back,” said Aimée; “but, in the + meantime, I want to ask you to let the affair rest altogether, and not say + a word to Dolly when she comes. It will be the kindest thing you can do. + Just let things go on as they have always done, and ignore every thing new + you may see.” + </p> + <p> + Phil looked up from his easel in sudden surprise; something in her voice + startled him, serenely as he was apt to view all unexpected intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he broke out, “you don't mean that Dolly is very much cut up + about it?” + </p> + <p> + The fair little oracle hesitated; remembering Dolly's passionate despair + and grief over that “dead letter,” she could scarcely trust herself to + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered at last, feeling it would be best only to commit + herself in Phil's own words, “she is very much cut up.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” whistled Phil; “that is worse than I thought!” And the matter + ended in his going back to his picture and painting furiously for a few + minutes, with an almost reflective air. + </p> + <p> + They did not see anything of Dolly for weeks. She wrote to them now and + then, but she did not pay another visit to Bloomsbury Place. It was not + the old home to her now, and she dreaded seeing it in its new aspect,—the + aspect which was desolate of Grif. Most of her letters came to Aimée; but + she rarely referred to her trouble, rather seeming to avoid it than + otherwise. And the letters themselves were bright enough, seeming, too. + She had plenty to say about Miss MacDowlas and their visitors and her own + duties; indeed, any one but Aimée would have been puzzled by her courage + and apparent good spirits. But Aimée saw below the surface, and + understood, and, understanding, was fonder of her than ever. + </p> + <p> + As both Dolly and herself had expected, Mollie did not keep her secret + from the oracle many weeks. It was too much for her to bear alone, and one + night, in a fit of candor and remorse, she poured out everything from + first to last, all her simple and unsophisticated dreams of grandeur, all + her gullibility, all her danger,—everything, indeed, but the story + of her pitiful little fancy for Ralph Gowan. She could not give that up, + even to Aimée, though at the close of her confidence she was unable to + help referring to him. + </p> + <p> + “And as to Mr. Gowan,” she said, “how can I ever speak to him again! but, + perhaps, he would not speak to me. He must think I am wicked and bold and + hardened—and bad,” with a fresh sob at every adjective. “Oh, dear! + oh, dear!” burying her face in Aimée's lap, “if I had only stayed at home + and been good, like you. He could have respected me, at least, couldn't + he? And now—oh, what am I to do!” + </p> + <p> + Aimée could not help sighing. If she only <i>had</i> stayed at home, how + much happier they all might have been! But she had promised Dolly not to + add to her unhappiness by hinting at the truth, so she kept her own + counsel. + </p> + <p> + It was fully three months before they saw Ralph Gowan again. He had gone + on the Continent, they heard. A feeling of delicacy had prompted the + journey. As long as he remained in London, he could scarcely drop out of + his old friendly position at Bloomsbury Place, and he felt that for a + while at least Mollie would scarcely find it easy to face him. So he went + away and rambled about until he thought she would have time to get over + her first embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + But at the end of the three months he came back, and one afternoon + surprised them all by appearing amongst them again. Mollie, sitting + perseveringly at work over her penitential sewing, shrank a little, and + dropped her eyelids when he came in, but she managed to behave with + creditable evenness of manner after all, and the rest welcomed him warmly. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to Brabazon Lodge,” he said at length to Aimée. “I spent + Monday evening there, and was startled at the change I found in your + sister. I did not know she was ill.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée started herself, and looked up at him with a frightened face. + </p> + <p> + “Ill!” she said. “Did you say ill?” + </p> + <p> + It was his turn to be surprised then. + </p> + <p> + “I thought her looking ill,” he answered. “She seemed to me to be both + paler and thinner. But you must not let me alarm you,—I thought, of + course, that you would know.” + </p> + <p> + “She has never mentioned it in her letters,” Aimée said. “And she has not + been home for three months, so we have not seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let me give you a false impression,” returned Gowan, eagerly. “She + seemed in excellent spirits, and was quite her old self; indeed, I + scarcely should imagine that she herself placed sufficient stress upon the + state of her health. She insisted that she was well when I spoke to her + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad you told me,” answered Aimée. “She is too indifferent + sometimes. I am afraid she would not have let us know. I thank you, very + much.” + </p> + <p> + He had other thanks before he left the house. As he was going out, Mollie, + in her character of porteress, opened the hall door for him, and, having + opened it, stood there with Tod's new garment half concealed, a pair of + timid eyes uplifted to his face, a small, trembling, feverish hand held + out. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” she said, in a low, fluttering voice. “Oh, if you please—” + </p> + <p> + He took the little hot hand, feeling some tender remorse for not having + tried to draw her out more and help her out of her painful shyness and + restraint. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mollie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I want—I want,” fluttering all over,—"I want to thank you + better than I did that—that dreadful night. I was so frightened I + could scarcely understand. I understand more—now—and I want to + tell you how grateful I am—and how grateful I shall be until I die—and + I want to ask you to try not to think I was very wicked. I did not mean to + be wicked—I was only vain and silly, and I thought it would be such + a grand thing to—to have plenty of new dresses,” hanging her sweet, + humble face, “and to wear diamonds, and be Lady Chandos, if—if Mr. + Chandos came into the title. Of course that was wicked, but it was n't—I + was n't as bad as I seemed. I was so vain that—that I was quite sure + he loved me, and would be very glad if I married him. He always said he + would.” And the tears rolled fast down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mollie!” said Gowan, patting the trembling hand as if it had been a + baby's. “Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” Mollie struggled on, penitently, “I shall never be so foolish + again. And I am going to try to be good—like Aimée. I am learning to + mend things; and I am beginning to make things for Tod. This,” holding up + her work as proof, “is a dress for him. It is n't very well done,” with + innocent dubiousness; “but Aimée says I am improving. And so, if you + please, would you be so kind as not to think quite so badly of me?” + </p> + <p> + It was all so humble and pretty and remorseful that he was quite touched + by it. That old temptation to kiss and console her made it quite dangerous + for him to linger. She was such a lovable sight with her tear-wet cheeks, + and that dubious but faithfully worked-at garment of Tod's in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “will you believe what I say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I say to you that I never believed you wicked for an instant,—not + for one instant; and now I believe it less than ever; on the contrary, I + believe you are a good, honest little creature. Let us forget Gerald + Chandos,—he is not worth remembering. And go on with Tod's pinafores + and dresses, my dear, and don't be discouraged if they are a failure at + first,—though to my eyes that dress is a most sumptuous affair. And + as to being like Aimée, you cannot be like any one better and wiser and + sweeter than that same little maiden. There! I mean every word I have + said.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” faltered Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with her, and, bidding her goodnight, left her standing in + the narrow hall all aglow with joy. And he, outside, was communing with + himself as he walked away. + </p> + <p> + “She is as sweet in her way as—as the other,” he was saying. “And as + well worth loving. And what a face she has, if one only saw it with a + lover's eyes! What a face she has, even seeing it with such impartial eyes + as mine!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Dolly!” said Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Aimée!” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + These were the first words the two exchanged when, the evening after Ralph + Gowan's visit, the anxious young oracle presented herself at Brabazon + Lodge, and was handed into Dolly's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Visitors were expected, and Dolly had been dressing, and was just putting + the finishing touches to her toilet when Aimée came in, and, seeing her as + she turned from the glass to greet her, the wise one could scarcely speak, + and, even after she had been kissed most heartily, could only hold the + girl's hand and stand looking up into her changed face, feeling almost + shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me, Dolly!” she said again. “Oh, my dear, what have you been + doing to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing!” echoed Dolly, just as she would have spoken three or four months + ago. “I have been doing nothing, and rather enjoying it. What is the + matter with me?” glancing into the mirror. “Pale? That is the result of + Miss MacDowlas's beneficence, you see. She has presented me with this + grand black silk gown, and it makes me look pale. Black always did, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + But notwithstanding her readiness of speech, it did not need another + glance to understand what Ralph Gowan had meant when he said that she was + altered. The lustreless heavy folds of her black silk might contrast + sharply with her white skin, but they could not bring about that subtle, + almost incomprehensible change in her whole appearance. It was such a + subtle change that it was difficult to comprehend. The round, lissome + figure she had always been so pardonably vain about, and Grif had so + admired, had fallen a little, giving just a hint at a greater change which + might show itself sooner or later; her face seemed a trifle more clearly + cut than it ought to have been, and the slender throat, set in its + surrounding Elizabethan frill of white, seemed more slender than it had + used to be. Each change was slight enough in itself, but all together gave + a shadowy suggestion of alteration to affectionately quick eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill,” said Aimée. “And you never told me. It was wrong of you. + Don't tell me it is your black dress; your eyes are too big and bright for + any one who is well, and your hand is thinner than it ever was before. + Why, I can feel the difference as I hold it, and it is as feverish as it + can be.” + </p> + <p> + “You good, silly little thing!” said Dolly, laughing. “I am not ill at + all. I have caught a cold, perhaps, but that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “No you have not,” contradicted Aimée, with pitiful sharpness. “You have + not caught cold, and you must not tell me so. You are ill, and you have + been ill for weeks. The worst of colds could never make you look like + this. Mr. Gowan might well be startled and wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan!” Dolly interrupted her. “Did <i>he</i> say that he was + startled?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did,” Aimée answered. “And that was what brought me here. He was + at Bloomsbury Place last night and told me all about you, and I made up my + mind that minute that I would come and judge for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then the girl gave in. She sat down on a chair by the dressing-table and + rested her forehead on her hand, laughing faintly, as if in protest + against her own subjugation. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall have to submit,” she said. “The fact is, I sometimes fancy I + do feel weaker than I ought to. It is n't like me to be weak. I was always + so strong, you know,—stronger than all the rest of you, I thought. + Miss MacDowlas says I do not look well. I suppose,” with a half-sigh, + “that every one will see it soon. Aimée,” hesitating, “don't tell them at + home.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée slipped an arm around her, and drew her head—dressed in all + the old elaborateness of pretty coils and braids—upon her own + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Darling,” she whispered, trying to restrain her tears, “I must tell them + at home, because I must take you home to be nursed.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Dolly, starting, “that would never do. It would never do + even to think of it. I am not so ill as that,—not ill enough to be + nursed. Besides,” her voice sinking all at once, “I could n't go home, + Aimée,—I could not bear to go home now. That is why I have stayed + away so long. I believe it would <i>kill</i> me!” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for Aimée to hear this and be silent longer. She had, + indeed, only been waiting for some reference to the past. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it was that,” she cried. “I knew it the moment Mr. Gowan told me. + And I have feared it from the first. Nothing but that could have broken + you down like this. Dolly, if Grif could see you now, he would give his + heart's blood to undo what he has done.” + </p> + <p> + The pale little hands lying upon the black dress began to tremble in a + strange, piteous weakness. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot forget so much in so short a time,” Dolly pleaded. “And it is + so much,—more than even you think. One cannot forget seven years in + three months,—give me seven months, Aimée. I shall be better in + time, when I have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + Forgotten! Even those far duller of perception than Aimée could have seen + that she would not soon forget. She had not begun in the right way to + forget. The pain which had made the pretty figure and the soft, round face + look faintly worn, was sharper to-day than it had been even three months + before, and it was gaining in sharpness every day, nay, every hour. + </p> + <p> + “The days are so long,” she said, plaiting the silk of her dress on-the + restless hands. “We are so quiet, except when we have visitors, and + somehow visitors begin to tire me. I scarcely ever knew what it was to be + tired before. I don't care even to scatter the Philistines now,” trying to + smile. “I am not even roused by the prospect of meeting Lady Augusta + tonight. I forgot to tell you she was coming, did n't I? How she would + triumph if she knew how I have fallen and—and how miserable I am! + She used to say I had not a thought above the cut of my dresses. She never + knew about—<i>him</i>, poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + It was curious to see how she still clung to that tender old pitying way + of speaking of Grif. + </p> + <p> + Aimee began to cry over her again. + </p> + <p> + “You must come home, Dolly,” she said. “You must, indeed. You will get + worse and worse if you stay here. I will speak to Miss MacDowlas myself. + You say she is kind to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear little woman,” said Dolly, closing her eyes as she let her head rest + upon the girl's shoulder. “Dear, kind little woman! indeed it will be best + for me to stay here. It is as I said,—indeed it is. If I were to go + home I should <i>die!</i> Oh, don't you <i>know</i> how cruel it would be! + To sit there in my chair and see his old place empty,—to sit and + hear the people passing in the street and know I should never hear his + footstep again,—to see the door open again and again, and know he + would never, never pass through. It would break my heart,—it would + break my heart!” + </p> + <p> + “It is broken now!” cried Aimée, in a burst of grief, and she could + protest no more. + </p> + <p> + But she remained as long as she well could, petting and talking to her. + She knew better than to offer her threadbare commonplace comfort, so she + took refuge in talking of life at Bloomsbury Place,—about Tod and + Mollie and Toinette, and the new picture Phil was at work upon. But it was + a hard matter for her to control herself sufficiently to conceal that she + was almost in an agony of anxiousness and foreboding. What was she to do + with this sadly altered Dolly, the mainspring of whose bright, spirited + life was gone? How was she to help her if she could not restore Grif,—it + was only Grif she wanted,—and where was he? It was just as she had + always said it would be,—without Grif, Dolly was Dolly no longer,—for + Grif's sake her faithful, passionate girl's heart was breaking slowly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Augusta, encountering her ex-governess in the drawing-room that + evening, raised her eyeglass to that noble feature, her nose, and + condescended a questioning inspection, full of disapproval of the heavy, + well-falling black silk and the Elizabethan frill. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking shockingly pale and thin,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Dolly glanced at her reflection in an adjacent mirror. She only smiled + faintly, in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware that you were ill,” proceeded her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say that I am ill,” Dolly answered. “How is Phemie?” + </p> + <p> + “Euphemia,” announced Lady Augusta, “is well, and I <i>trust</i>” as if + she rather doubted her having so far overcome old influences of an evil + nature,—"I <i>trust</i> improving, though I regret to hear from her + preceptress that she is singularly deficient in application to her musical + lessons.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly thought of the professor with the lumpy face, and smiled again. + Phemie's despairing letters to herself sufficiently explained why her + progress was so slow. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said her ladyship to Miss MacDowlas, afterward, “that you are + satisfied with Dorothea's manner of filling her position in your + household.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was so thoroughly satisfied in my life,” returned the old lady, + stiffly. “She is a very quickwitted, pleasantly natured girl, and I am + extremely fond of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” waving a majestic and unbending fan of carved ivory. “She has + possibly improved then. I observe that she is going off very much,—in + the matter of looks, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard a gentleman remark, a few minutes ago,” replied Miss MacDowlas, + “that the girl looked like a white rose, and I quite agreed with him; but + I am fond of her, as I said, and you are not.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship shuddered faintly, but she did not make any further comment, + perhaps feeling that her hostess was too powerful to encounter. + </p> + <p> + At midnight the visitors went their several ways, and after they had + dispersed and the rooms were quiet once again, Miss MacDowlas sent her + companion to bed, or, at least, bade her good-night. + </p> + <p> + “You had better go at once,” she said. “I will remain to give orders to + the servants. You look tired. The excitement has been too much for you.” + </p> + <p> + So Dolly thanked her and left the room; but Miss MacDowlas did not hear + her ascend the stairs, and accordingly, after listening a moment or so, + went to the room door and looked out into the hall. And right at the foot + of the staircase lay Dolly Crewe, the lustreless, trailing black dress + making her skin seem white as marble, her pretty face turned half downward + upon her arm. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the girl returned to consciousness to find herself + lying comfortably in bed, the chamber empty save for herself and Miss + MacDowlas, who was standing at her side watching her. + </p> + <p> + “Better?” she said. “That is right, my dear. The evening was too much for + you, as I was afraid it would be. You are not as strong as you should be.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Dolly answered, quietly. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence of a few minutes, during which she closed her eyes + again; but she heard Miss MacDowlas fidgeting a little, and at last she + heard her speak. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “I think I ought to tell you something. When you + fell, I suppose you must somehow or other have pressed the spring of your + locket, for it was open when I went to you, and—I saw the face + inside it.” + </p> + <p> + “Grif,” said Dolly, in a tired voice, “Grif.” + </p> + <p> + And then she remembered how she had written to him about what this very <i>dénouement</i> + would be when it came. How strange, how wearily strange, it was to think + that it should come about in such a way as this! + </p> + <p> + “My nephew,” said Miss MacDowlas. “Griffith Donne.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dolly, briefly. “I was engaged to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Was!” echoed Miss MacDowlas. “Did he behave badly to you, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I behaved badly to him—and that is why I am ill.” + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas blew her nose. + </p> + <p> + “How long?” she asked, at length. “May I ask how long you were engaged to + each other, my dear? Don't answer me if you do not wish.” + </p> + <p> + “I was engaged to him,” faltered the girlish voice,—"we were all the + world to each other for seven years—for seven long years.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND. + </h2> + <p> + IN the morning of one of the hot days in June, Mollie, standing at the + window of Phil's studio, turned suddenly toward the inmates of the room + with an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Phil!” she said, “Toinette! There is a carriage drawing up before the + door.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Augusta?” said Toinette, making a dart at Tod. + </p> + <p> + “Confound Lady Augusta!” ejaculated Phil, devoutly. “That woman has a + genius for presenting herself at inopportune times.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is n't Lady Augusta,” Mollie objected. “It is n't the Bilberry + carriage at all. Do you think I don't know 'the ark'?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to by this time,” returned Phil. “I do, to my own deep grief.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the Brabazon Lodge carriage!” cried Mollie, all at once. “Miss + MacDowlas is getting out, and—yes, here is Dolly!” + </p> + <p> + “And Tod just washed and dressed!” said Mrs. Phil, picking up her + offspring with an air of self-congratulation. “Miracle of miracles! The + Fates begin to smile upon us. Phil, how is my back hair?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” returned Phil. “I suppose I shall have to present myself, + too.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary that they should all present themselves, they found. Miss + MacDowlas wished to form the acquaintance of the whole family, it + appeared, and apart from this her visit had rather an important object. + </p> + <p> + “It is a sort of farewell visit,” she explained, “though, of course, the + farewell is only to be a temporary one. We find London too hot for us, and + we are going to try Switzerland. The medical man thinks a change will be + beneficial to your sister.” + </p> + <p> + They all looked at Dolly then,—at Dolly in her delicate, crisp + summer bravery and her pretty summer hat; but it was neither hat nor dress + that drew their eyes upon her all at once in that new questioning way. But + Dolly only laughed,—a soft, nervous laugh, however,—and played + with her much-frilled parasol. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MacDowlas,” she said, “is good enough to fancy I am not so well as I + ought to be, Tod,” bending her face low over the pretty little fellow, who + had trotted to her knee. “What do you think of Aunt Dolly's appearing in + the character of invalid? It sounds like the best of jokes, does n't it, + Tod?” + </p> + <p> + They tried to smile responsively, all of them, but the effort was not a + success. Despite all her pretence of brightness and coquettish attire, + there was not one of them who had not been startled when their first + greeting was over. Under the triumph of a hat, her face showed almost + sharply cut, her skin far too transparently colorless, her eyes much too + large and bright. The elaborately coiled braids of hair seemed almost too + heavy for the slender throat to bear, and no profusion of trimming could + hide that the little figure was worn. The flush and glow and spirit had + died away from her. It was not the Dolly who had been wont to pride + herself upon ruling supreme in Vagabondia, who sat there before them + making them wonder; it was a new creature, who seemed quite a stranger to + them. + </p> + <p> + They were glad to see how fond of her Miss MacDowlas appeared to be. They + had naturally not had a very excellent opinion of Miss MacDowlas in the + past days; but the fact that Dolly had managed to so win upon her as to + bring out her best side, quite softened their hearts. She was not so grim, + after all. Her antipathy to Grif had evidently been her most unpleasant + peculiarity, and now, seeing her care for this new Dolly, who needed care + so much, they were rather touched. + </p> + <p> + When the farewells had been said, the carriage had driven away, and they + had returned to the studio, a silence seemed to fall upon them, one and + all. 'Toinette sat in her chair, holding Tod, without speaking; Mollie + stood near her with a wondering, downcast air; Phil went to the window, + and, neglecting his picture wholly for the time being, looked out into the + street, whistling softly. + </p> + <p> + At length he turned round to Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” he said, abruptly, “how long has this been going on?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean this change?” said Aimée, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “For three months,” she answered. “I did not like to tell you because I + knew <i>she</i> would not like it; but it dates from the time Grif went + away.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil burst into an impetuous gush of tears, hiding her handsome, + girlish face on Tod's neck. + </p> + <p> + “It is a shame!” she cried out. “It is a cruel, burning shame! Who would + ever have thought of Grif's treating her like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Phil; “and who would ever have thought that Dolly would have + broken down? Dolly! By George! I can't believe it. If I am able to judge, + it seems time that she should try Switzerland or somewhere else. Aimée, + has she heard nothing of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The young man flushed hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” he burst forth. “It looks as if the fellow was a + dishonorable scamp. And yet he is the last man I should ever have fancied + would prove a scamp.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has not proved himself a scamp yet,” said Aimée, in a troubled + tone. “And Dolly would not like to hear you say so. And if you knew the + whole truth you <i>wouldn't</i> say so. He has been tried too far, and he + has been impetuous and rash, but it was his love for Dolly that made him + so. And wherever he may be, Phil, I know he is as wretched and hopeless as + Dolly herself could be at the worst. It has all been misunderstanding and + mischance.” + </p> + <p> + “He has broken Dolly's heart, nevertheless,” cried Mrs. Phil. “And if she + dies—” + </p> + <p> + “Dies!” cried out Mollie, opening her great eyes and turning pale all at + once. “Dies! Dolly?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Aimée, trembling and losing color herself. “Oh, hush!—don't + say such things. It sounds so dreadful,—it is too dreadful to think + of!” + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that on another of these hot June days there appeared + at the <i>table à hôte</i> of a certain well-conducted and already + well-filled inn at Lake Geneva two new arrivals,—a tall, thin, + elderly lady of excessively English exterior, and a young person who + attracted some attention,—a girl who wore a long black dress, and + had a picturesque Elizabethan frill about her too slender throat, and who, + in spite of her manner and the clearness of her bright voice, was too + whitely transparent of complexion and too finely cut of face to look as + strong as a girl of one or two and twenty ought to be. + </p> + <p> + The people who took stock of them, after the manner of all unoccupied + hotel sojourners on the lookout for sensations, noticed this. One or two + of them even observed that, on entering the room after the slight exertion + of descending the staircase, the girl was slightly out of breath and + seemed glad to sit down, and that, her companion evidently making some + remark upon the fact, she half laughed, as if wishing to make light of it; + and they noticed, too, that her naturally small hands were so very slender + that her one simple little ring of amethyst and pearls slipped loosely up + and down her finger. + </p> + <p> + They were not ordinary tourists, these new arrivals, it was clear. Their + attire told that at once. They had removed their travelling dresses, and + looked as if they had quite made up their minds to enjoy their customary + mode of life as if they had been at home. They had no courier, the + wiseacres had ascertained, and they had brought a neat English + serving-woman, who seemed to know her business marvellously well and be by + no means unaccustomed to travelling. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt and niece!” commented one gentleman, surveying Dolly over his soup. + “A nice little creature,—the niece.” And he mentally resolved to + cultivate her acquaintance. But it was not such an easy matter. The new + arrivals were unlike ordinary tourists in other respects than in their + settled mode of life. They did not seem to care to form chance + acquaintance with their fellow guests. They lived quietly and, unless when + driving out together or taking short, unfatiguing strolls, remained much + in their own apartments. They appeared at the <i>table d'hôte</i> + occasionally; but though they were pleasant in manner they were not + communicative, and so, after a week or so, people tired of asking + questions about them and lapsed into merely exchanging greetings, and + looking on with some interest at any changes they observed in the pretty, + transparent, though always bright face, and the pliant, soft young figure. + </p> + <p> + Thus Miss MacDowlas and her companion “tried Switzerland.” + </p> + <p> + “It will do you good, my dear, and brace you up,” the elder lady had said; + and from the bottom of her heart she had hoped it would. + </p> + <p> + And did it? + </p> + <p> + Well, the last time Dolly had “tried Switzerland,” she had tried it in the + capacity of Lady Augusta's governess, and she had held in charge a host of + rampant young Bilberrys, who secretly loathed their daily duties, and were + not remarkable in the matter of filial piety, and were only reconciled to + existence by the presence of their maternal parent's greatest trial, that + highly objectionable Dorothea Crewe. So, taking Lady Augusta in + conjunction with her young charges, the girl had often felt her lot by no + means the easiest in the world; but youth and spirit, and those + oft-arriving letters, had helped her to bear a great deal, and so there + was still something sweet about the memory. Oh, those old letters—those + foolish, passionate, tender letters—written in the dusty, hot London + office, read with such happiness, and answered on such closely penned + sheets of foreign paper! How she had used to watch for them, and carry + them to her small bedroom and read them again and again, kneeling on the + floor by the open window, the fresh, soft summer breezes from the blue + lake far below stirring her hair and kissing her forehead! How doubly and + trebly fair she had been wont to fancy everything looked on that “letter + day” of hers,—that red-letter day,—that golden-letter day! + </p> + <p> + The very letters she had written then lay in her trunk now, tied together + in a bundle, just as Grif had brought them and laid them down upon the + table when he gave her up forever. Her “dead letter” lay with them,—that + last, last appeal, which had never reached his heart, and never would. She + had written her last letter to him, and he his last to her. + </p> + <p> + And now she had been brought to “try Switzerland” and Lake Geneva as a + Lethe. + </p> + <p> + But she had determined to be practical and courageous, and bear it as best + she might. It would not have been like her to give way at once without a + struggle. She did not believe in lovelorn damsels, who pined away and died + of broken hearts, and made all their friends uncomfortable by so doing. + She made a struggle, and refused to give up. She grew shadowy and fair; + but it was under protest, and she battled against the change she felt + creeping upon her so slowly but so surely. She showed a brave face to + people, and tried to be as bright and ready-witted as ever; and if she + failed it was not her own fault. She fought hard against her sleepless + nights and weary days; and when she lay awake hour after hour hearing the + clock strike, it was not because she made no effort to compose herself, it + was only because the delicate wheels of thought <i>would</i> work against + her helpless will, and it was worse than useless to close her eyes when + she could see so plainly her lost lover's desperate, anguished face, and + hear so distinctly his strained, strangely altered voice: “No, it is too + late for that now,—that is all over!” And he had once loved her + better than his life! + </p> + <p> + So it was that, try as she might, she could not make Switzerland a + success. When she went down to the table d'hôte, people saw that instead + of growing stronger she was growing more frail, and the exertion of coming + down the long flight of stairs tried her more than it had seemed to do + that first day. Sometimes she had a soft, lovely, dangerous color on her + cheeks, and her eyes looked almost translucent; and then again the color + was gone, her skin was white and transparent, and her eyes were shadowy + and languid. When the hot July days came in, the ring of pearls and + amethyst would stay on the small worn hand no longer, and so was taken off + and hung with the little bunch of coquettish “charms” upon her chain. But + she was not conquered yet, and the guests and servants often heard her + laughing, and making Miss MacDowlas laugh as they sat together in their + private parlor. + </p> + <p> + The two were sitting thus together one Saturday early in July,—Dolly + in a loose white wrapper, resting in a low basket chair by the open + window, and fanning herself languidly,—when a visitor was announced, + and the moment after the announcement a tall young lady rushed into the + room and clasped Dolly unceremoniously in her arms, either not observing + or totally ignoring Miss MacDowlas's presence. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly!” she cried, kneeling down by the basket chair and speaking so fast + that her words tumbled over each other, and her sentences were curiously + mingled. “Oh! if you please, dear, I know it was n't polite, and I never + meant to do it in such an unexpected, awfully rude way; and what mamma + would say, I am sure I cannot tell, unless go into dignified convulsions, + and shudder herself stiff; but how could I help it, when I came expecting + to see you as bright and lovely as ever, and caught a glimpse of you + through the door, as the servant spoke, sitting here so white and thin and + tired-looking! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how ever can it be!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Phemie!” said Dolly, laughing and crying both at once, through + weakness and sympathy,—for of course poor, easily moved Phemie had + burst into a flood of affectionate tears. “My dear child, how excited you + are, and how pleasant it is to see you! How did you manage to come?” + </p> + <p> + “The professor with the lumpy face—poor, pale darling—I mean + you, not him,” explained the eldest Miss Bilberry, clinging to her + ex-governess as if she was afraid of seeing her float through the open + window. “The professor with the lumpy face, Dolly; which shows he is not + so horrid as I always thought him, and I am very sorry for being so + inconsiderate, I am sure—you know he cannot help his lumps any more + than I can help my dreadful red hands and my dresses not fitting.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly stopped her here to introduce her to Miss MacDowlas; and that lady + having welcomed her good-naturedly, and received her incoherent apologies + for her impetuous lack of decorum, the explanation proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “How could the professor send you here?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “He did not exactly send me, but he helped me,” replied the luckless + Euphemia, becoming a trifle more coherent. “I saw you at the little + church, though you did not see me, because, of course, we sit in the most + disagreeable part, just where we can't see or be seen at all. And though I + only saw you at a distance, and through your veil, and half behind a + pillar, I knew you, and knew Miss MacDowlas. I think I knew Miss MacDowlas + most because she <i>wasn't</i> behind the pillar. And it nearly drove me + crazy to think you were so near, and I gave one of the servants some money + to find out where you were staying, and she brought me word that you were + staying here, and meant to stay. And then I asked the lady principal to + let me come and see you, and of course she refused; and I never should + have been able to come at all, only it chanced that was my music-lesson + day, and I went in to the professor with red eyes,—I had cried so,—and + when he asked me what I had been crying for, I remembered that he used to + be fond of you, and I told him. And he was sorry for me, and promised to + ask leave for me. He is a cousin of the lady principal, and a great + favorite with her. And the end of it was that they let me come. And I have + almost flown. I had to wait until to-day, you know, because it was + Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite touching to see how, when she stopped speaking, she clung to + Dolly's hands, and looked at her with wonder and grief in her face. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that has changed you so?” she said. “You are not like yourself + at all. Oh, my dear, how ill you are!” + </p> + <p> + A wistful shadow showed itself in the girl's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Am</i> I so much changed?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You do not look like our Dolly at all,” protested Phemie. “You are thin,—oh, + so thin! What <i>is</i> the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Thin!” said Dolly. “Am I? Then I must be growing ugly enough. Perhaps it + is to punish me for being so vain about my figure. Don't you remember what + a dread I always had of growing thin? Just to think that <i>I</i> should + grow thin, after all! Do my bones stick out like the Honorable Cecilia + Howland's, Phemie?” And she ended with a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + Phemie kissed her, in affectionate protest against such an idea. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no!” she said. “They could n't, you know. They are not the kind + of bones to do it. Just think of her dreadful elbows and her fearful + shoulder-blades! You couldn't look like her. I don't mean that sort of + thinness at all. But you seem so light and so little. And look here,” and + she held up the painfully small hand, the poor little hand without the + ring. “There are no dimples here now, Dolly,” she said, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Dolly, simply; and the next minute, as she drew her hand + away, there fluttered from her lips a sigh. + </p> + <p> + She managed to change the turn of conversation after this. Miss MacDowlas + had good-naturedly left them alone, and so she began to ask Phemie + questions,—questions about school and lessons and companions, about + the lady principal and the under-teachers and about the professor with the + lumpy face; and, despite appearances being against her, there was still + the old ring in her girl's jests. + </p> + <p> + “Has madame got a new bonnet yet,” she asked, “or does she still wear the + old one with those aggressive-looking spikes of wheat in it? The lean ears + ought to have eaten up the fat ones by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “But they have n't,” returned Phemie. “They are there yet, Dolly. Just the + same spikes in the same bonnet, only she has had new saffron-colored + ribbon put on it, just the shade of her skin.” + </p> + <p> + Dolly shuddered,—Lady Augusta's own semi-tragic shudder, if Phemie + had only recognized it. + </p> + <p> + “Phemie,” she said, with a touch of pardonable anxiety, “ill as I look, I + am not that color, am I? To lose one's figure and grow thin is bad enough, + but to become like Madame Pillet—dear me!” shaking her head. “I + scarcely think I could reconcile myself to existence.” + </p> + <p> + Phemie laughed. “You are not changed in one respect, Dolly,” she said. + “When I hear you talk it makes me feel quite—quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” Dolly echoed. “You mean to say that so long as I preserve my + constitutional vanity, your anxiety won't overpower you. But—but,” + looking at her curiously, “did you think at first that I was not safe, as + you call it?” + </p> + <p> + “You looked so ill,” faltered Phemie. “And—I was so startled.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you?” asked Dolly. “Did I shock you?” + </p> + <p> + “A little—only just a little, dear,” deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + Then strangely enough fell upon them a silence. Dolly turned toward the + window, and her eyes seemed to fix themselves upon some far-away point, as + if she was pondering over a new train of thought. And when at last she + spoke, her voice was touched with the tremulous unsteadiness of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said, slowly,—"do you think that <i>any one</i> + who had loved me would be shocked to see me now? Am I so much altered as + that? One scarcely sees these things one's self,—they come to pass + so gradually.” + </p> + <p> + All poor Phemie's smiles died away. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us talk about it,” she pleaded. “I cannot bear to hear you + speak so. Don't, dear—if you please, don't!” + </p> + <p> + Her pain was so evident that it roused Dolly at once. + </p> + <p> + “I won't, if it troubles you,” she said, almost in her natural manner. “It + does not matter,—why should it? There is no one here to be shocked. + I was only wondering.” + </p> + <p> + But the shadow did not quite leave her face, and even when, an hour later, + Euphemia bade her good-by and left her, promising to return again as soon + as possible, it was there still. + </p> + <p> + She was very, very quiet for a few minutes after she found herself alone. + She clasped her hands behind her head, and lay back in the light chair, + looking out of the window. She was thinking so deeply that she did not + even stir for a while; but in the end she got up, as though moved by some + impulse, and crossed the room. + </p> + <p> + Against the wall hung a long, narrow mirror, and she went to this mirror + and stood before it, looking at herself from head to foot,—at her + piteously sharpened face, with its large, wondering eyes, eyes that + wondered at themselves,—at the small, light figure so painfully + etherealized, and about which the white wrapper hung so loosely. She even + held up, at last, the slender hand and arm; but when she saw these + uplifted, appealing, as it were, for this sad, new face which did not seem + her own, she broke into a little cry of pain and grief. + </p> + <p> + “If you could see me now,” she said, “if you should come here by chance + and see me now, my dear, I think you would not wait to ask whether I had + been true or false. I never laid this white cheek on your shoulder, did I? + Oh, what a changed face it is! I know I was never very pretty, though you + thought so and were proud of me in your tender way, but I was not like + this in those dear old days. Grif, Grif, would you know me,—would + you <i>know</i> me?” And, turning to her chair again, she dropped upon her + knees before it, and knelt there sobbing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE. + </h2> + <p> + THE postman paid frequent visits to Bloomsbury Place during these summer + weeks. At first Dolly wrote often herself, but later it seemed to fall to + Miss MacDowlas to answer Aimée's weekly letters and Mollie's fortnightly + ones. And that lady was a faithful correspondent, and did her duty as + readily as was possible, giving all the news, and recording all Dolly's + messages, and issuing regular bulletins on the subject of her health. + “Your sister,” she sometimes wrote, “is not so well, and I have persuaded + her to allow me to be her amanuensis.” Or, “Your sister is tired after a + rather long drive, and I have persuaded her to rest while I write at her + dictation.” Or sometimes, “Dolly is rather stronger, and is in excellent + spirits, but I do not wish her to exert herself at present.” But at length + a new element crept into these letters. The cheerful tone gave way to a + more dubious one; Dolly's whimsical messages were fewer and farther + between, and sometimes Miss MacDowlas seemed to be on the verge of hinting + that her condition was a weaker and more precarious one than even she + herself had at first feared. + </p> + <p> + Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both + anxious and puzzled. In a very short time after his return he had awakened + to a recognition of some mysterious shadow upon the household. Vagabondia + had lost its spirits. Mrs. Phil and her husband were almost thoughtful; + Tod disported himself unregarded and unadmired, comparatively speaking; + Mollie seemed half frightened by the aspect affairs were wearing; and + Aimee's wise, round face had an older look. And then these letters! Dolly + “trying Switzerland” for her health, Dolly mysteriously ill and far away + from home,—too weak sometimes to write. Dolly, who had never seemed + to have a weakness; who had entered the lists against even Lady Augusta, + and had come off victorious; who had been mock-worldly, and coquettish, + and daring; who had made open onslaught upon eligible Philistines; who had + angled prettily and with sinful success for ineligible Bohemians! What did + it mean? And where was Donne? Certainly he was never to be seen at + Bloomsbury Place or in its vicinity in these days. + </p> + <p> + But, deeply interested as he was, Gowan was not the man to ask questions; + so he could only wait until chance brought the truth to light. + </p> + <p> + He came to the house upon one occasion and found Aimée crying quietly over + one of Miss MacDowlas's letters in the parlor, and in his sympathy he felt + compelled to speak openly to her. + </p> + <p> + Then Aimée, heavy of heart and full of despairing grief, handed him the + letter to read. + </p> + <p> + “I have known it would be so—from the first,” she sobbed. “We are + going to lose her. Perhaps she will not live to come home again.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Dolly?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” hysterically. “Miss MacDowlas says—” But she could get no + further. + </p> + <p> + This was what Miss MacDowlas said:— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is + very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her + increasing weakness lightly. Indeed, I am sure that she herself does not + comprehend her danger. I am inclined to believe that it has not yet + occurred to her that she is in danger at all. She protests that she cannot + be ill so long as she does not suffer; but I, who have watched her day by + day, can see only too plainly where the danger lies. And so I think it + best to warn you to be prepared to come to us at once if at any time I + should send for you hurriedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Prepared to go to them!” commented Aimée. “What does that mean? What can + it mean but that our own Dolly is dying, and may slip out of the world + away from us at any moment? Oh, Grif! Grif! what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + Gowan closed the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Aimée,” he said, “where <i>is</i> Donne?” + </p> + <p> + Aimée fairly wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she quite wailed. “If I only did—if I only knew + where I could find him!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know!” exclaimed Gowan. “And Dolly dying in Switzerland!” + </p> + <p> + “That is it,” she returned. “That is what it all means. If any of us knew—or + if Dolly knew, she would not be dying in Switzerland. It is because she + does not know, that she is dying. She has never seen him since the night + you brought Mollie home. And—and she cannot live without him.” + </p> + <p> + The whole story was told in very few words after this; and Gowan, + listening, began to understand what the cloud upon the house had meant. He + suffered some sharp enough pangs through the discovery, too. The last + frail cords that had bound him to hope snapped as Aimée poured out her + sorrows. He had never been very sanguine of success, but even after hoping + against hope, his tender fancy for Dolly Crewe had died a very lingering + death; indeed, it was not quite dead yet, but he was beginning to + comprehend this old love story more fully, and he had found himself forced + to do his rival greater justice. He could not see his virtues as the rest + saw them, of course, but he was generous enough to pity him, and see that + his lot had been a terribly hard one. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing to be done,” he said, when Aimée had finished + speaking. “We must find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Find him! We cannot find him.” + </p> + <p> + “That remains to be proved,” he answered. “Have you been to his lodgings?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” mournfully. “And even to the office! He left his lodgings that very + night, paid his bills, and drove away in a cab with his trunk. Poor Grif! + It was n't a very big trunk. He went to the office the next morning, and + told Mr. Flynn he was going to leave London, and one of the clerks told + Phil there was a 'row' between them. Mr. Flynn was angry because he had + not given due notice of his intention. That is all we know.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have not the slightest clew beyond this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the slightest. He spent all his spare time with Dolly, you know; so + there is not even any place of resort, or club, or anything, where we + might go to make inquiries about him.” + </p> + <p> + Gowan's countenance fell. He felt the girl's distress keenly, apart from + his own pain. + </p> + <p> + “The whole affair seems very much against us,” he said; “but he may—I + say he <i>may</i> be in London still. I am inclined to believe he is + myself. When the first passion of excitement was over, he would find + himself weaker than he fancied he was. It would not be so easy to cut + himself off from the old life altogether. He would long so inexpressibly + to see Dolly again that he could not tear himself away. I think we may be + assured that even if he is not in London, at least he has not left + England.” + </p> + <p> + “That was what I have been afraid of,” said Aimée, “that he might have + left England altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think he has,” Gowan returned. + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for a moment. Aimée sat twisting Miss MacDowlas's + letter in her fingers, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is all the harder to bear,” she said next, “because Dolly has always + seemed so much of a <i>reality</i> to us. If she had been a pale, ethereal + sort of girl, it might not seem such a shock; but she never was. She even + used to say she could not bear those frail, ethereal people in books, who + were always dying and saying touching things just at the proper time, and + who knew exactly when to call up their agonized friends to their bedside + to see how pathetically and decorously they made their exit. Oh, my poor + darling! To think that she should be fading away and dying just in the + same way! I cannot make it seem real. I cannot think of her without her + color, and her jokes, and her bits of acting, and her little vanities. She + will not be our Dolly at all if they have left her. There is a dress of + hers up-stairs now,—a dress she couldn't bear. And I remember so + well how she lost her temper when she was making it, because it would n't + fit. And when I went into the parlor she was crying over it, and Grif was + trying so hard to console her that at last she laughed. I can see her now, + with the tears in her eyes, looking half-vexed and half-comforted. And + Tod, too,—how fond she was of Tod, and how proud of him! Ah, Tod,” + in a fresh burst, “when you grow up, the daisies may have been growing for + many a year over poor little Aunt Dolly, and you will have forgotten her + quite.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not look at the matter in that desponding way,” said Gowan, + quite unsteadily. “We must hope for the best, and do what we can. You may + rely upon me to exert myself to the utmost. If we succeed in finding Donne + I am sure that he will do the rest. Perhaps, next summer Vagabondia will + be as bright as ever,—nay, even brighter than it has been before.” + </p> + <p> + All his sympathies were enlisted, and, hopeless as the task seemed, he had + determined to make strenuous efforts to trace this lost lover. Men had + concealed themselves from their friends, in the world of London, often + before, and this, he felt sure, Griffith Donne was doing; and since this + poor little impassioned, much-tried Dolly was dying in spite of herself + for Griffith Donne's sake, and seemed only to be saved by his presence, he + must even set himself the task of bringing him to light and clearing up + this miserable misunderstanding. Having been Dolly Crewe's lover, he was + still generous enough to wish to prove himself her friend; yes, and even + her luckier lover's friend, though he winced a trifle at the thought. + Accordingly, he left the house that night with his mind full of + half-formed plans, both feasible and otherwise. + </p> + <p> + During the remainder of that week he did not call at Bloomsbury Place + again, but at the beginning of the next he made his appearance, bringing + with him a piece of news which excited Aimee terribly. + </p> + <p> + “I know I shall startle you,” he said, the moment they were alone + together, “but you can scarcely be more startled than I was myself. I have + been on the lookout constantly, but I did not expect to be rewarded by + success so soon. Indeed, as it is, it has been entirely a matter of + chance. It is as I felt sure it would be. Donne is in London still. I know + that much, though that is all I have learned as yet. Late last night I + caught a glimpse—only a glimpse—of him hurrying through a + by-street. I almost fancied he had seen me and was determined to get out + of the way.” + </p> + <p> + “The pretty English girl,” said the guests at the inn, “comes down no + longer to the <i>table d'hôte!</i>” “The pretty English girl,” remarked + the wiseacres, “does not even drive out on these days, and the doctor + calls every morning to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “And sometimes,” added one of the wisest, “again in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Consumption,” observed another. + </p> + <p> + “Plainly consumption,” nodding significantly. “These English frauleins are + so often consumptive,” commented a third. “It is astonishing to remark how + many come to 'try Switzerland,' as they say.” + </p> + <p> + “And die?” + </p> + <p> + “And die,—as this one will.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing!” with a sigh and a pitying shrug of the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + And in the meantime up-stairs the basket chair had been taken away from + the window, and a large-cushioned, chintz-covered couch had been pushed + into its place, and Dolly lay upon it. But luxurious as her couch was, and + balmy as the air was, coming through the widely opened window, she did not + find much rest. The fact was, she was past rest by this time, she was too + weak to rest. The hot days tried her, and her sleepless nights undermined + even her last feeble relic of strength. Sometimes during the day she felt + that she could not lie propped up on the pillows a moment longer; but when + she tried to stand or sit up she was glad to drop back again into the old + place. She lost her breath fearfully soon,—the least exertion left + her panting. + </p> + <p> + “If I had a cough,” she said once to Miss MacDowlas, “I could understand + that I was ill—or if I suffered any actual pain, but I don't, and + even the doctor admits that my lungs are safe enough. What is it that he + says about me? Let me see. Ah, this is it: that I am 'below par—fearfully + below par,' as if I was gold, or notes, or bonds, or something. My ideas + on the subject of the money market are indefinite, you see. Ah, well; I + wonder when I shall be 'above par'!” + </p> + <p> + She never spoke of her ailments in any other strain. Even as she lay on + her couch, too prostrate to either read or work, she made audacious + satirical speeches, and told Miss MacDowlas stories of Vagabondia, just as + she used to tell them to Grif himself, only that in these days she could + not get up to flourish illustratively; and often after lying for an hour + or so in a dead, heavy, exhausting day-sleep, she opened her eyes at last, + to jest about her faithful discharge of her duties as companion. Only she + herself knew of the fierce battles she so often fought in secret, when her + sore, aching heart cried out so loud for Grif and would not—<i>would</i> + not be comforted. + </p> + <p> + She saw Phemie frequently. The much-abused professor had proved himself a + faithful friend to them. He had never been quite able to forget the little + English governess, who had so won upon him in the past, even though this + same young lady, in her anxiety to set Lady Augusta at defiance, had + treated him somewhat cavalierly. Indeed, hearing that she was ill, he was + so touched as to be quite overwhelmed with grief. He gained Euphemia + frequent leaves of absence, and sent messages of condolence and bouquets,—huge + bunches of flowers which made Dolly laugh even while they pleased her. + There was always a bouquet, stiff in form and gigantic in proportions, + when Phemie came. + </p> + <p> + At first Phemie caught the contagion of Dolly's own spirit and + hopefulness, and was sustained by it in spite of appearances; but its + influence died out at the end of a few weeks, and even she was not to be + deceived. An awful fear began to force itself upon her,—a fear + doubly awful to poor, susceptible Phemie. Dolly was getting no better; she + was even getting worse every day; she could not sit up; she was thinner + and larger-eyed than ever. Was something going to happen? And at the mere + thought of that possible something she would lose her breath and sit + looking at Dolly, silent, wondering, and awe-stricken. She began to ponder + over this something, as she tried to learn her lessons; she thought of it + as she went to bed and she dreamed of it in the night. Sometimes when she + came in unexpectedly and found Dolly in one of those prostrate sleeps, she + was so frightened that she could have cried out aloud. + </p> + <p> + She came in so one evening at twilight,—the professor had brought + her himself and had promised to escort her home,—and she found Dolly + in one of these sleeps. So, treading lightly, she put the bouquet in + water, and then drew a low chair to the girl's side and sat down to watch + and wait until she should awaken. Miss MacDowlas was in her own room + writing to Aimée; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its + quietness, perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and + fear. + </p> + <p> + Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow of + her former self. The once soft, round outlines of her face had grown clear + and sharp-cut, the delicate chin had lost its dimple, the transparent skin + upon the temples showed a tracery of blue veins, the closed eyelids had a + strange whiteness and lay upon her eyes heavily. She did not move,—she + seemed scarcely to breathe. Phemie caught her own breath and held it, lest + it should break from her in a sob of grief and terror. + </p> + <p> + This something awful <i>was</i> going to happen! She could not recover + herself even when Dolly wakened and began to talk to her. She could not + think of anything but her own anguish and pity for her friend. She could + not talk and was so silent, indeed, that Dolly became silent too; and so, + as the dusk fell upon them, they sat together in a novel quiet, listening + to a band of strolling musicians, who were playing somewhere in the + distance, and the sound of whose instruments floated to them, softened and + made plaintive by the evening air. + </p> + <p> + At last Dolly broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are very quiet, Phemie,” she said. “Are you going to sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” faltered Phemie, drawing closer to her. “I am thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking. What about?” + </p> + <p> + “About you. Dolly, do you—are you very ill—worse than you + were?” + </p> + <p> + “Very ill!” repeated Dolly, slowly, as if in wonder. “Worse than I was! + Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + Then Phemie lost self-control altogether. She left her seat and fell down + by the couch, bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + “You are so altered,” she said; “and you alter so much every week. I cried + over your poor, thin little hands when first I came to see you, but now + your wrist looks as if it would snap in two. Oh, Dolly, darling, if—if + you should die!” + </p> + <p> + Was it quite a new thought, or was it because it had never come home to + her in such a form before, this thought of Death? She started as if she + had been stung. + </p> + <p> + “If I should die!” she echoed. “<i>Die!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Phemie, my dear,” said Miss MacDowlas, opening the door, “the professor + is waiting down-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + And so, having let her sorrow get the better of her, Phemie had no time to + stay to see if her indiscretion had done harm. If she did not go now, she + might not be allowed fresh grace; and so she was fain to tear herself + away. + </p> + <p> + “I ought n't to have said it!” she bewailed, as she kissed Dolly again and + again. “Please forget it; oh, do, please, forget it! I did not mean it, + indeed! And now I shall be so frightened and unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + “Phemie,” said Dolly, quietly, “you have not frightened <i>me</i>; so you + haven't the least need to trouble yourself, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + But she was not exactly sorry to be left alone, and when she was alone her + thoughts wandered back to that first evening Phemie had called,—the + evening she had gone to the glass to look at her changed face. She had sat + in the basket-chair then,—she lay back upon her cushions now, and a + crowd of new thoughts came trooping through her mind. The soft air was + scented and balmy; the twilight sky was a dome of purple, jewel-hung; + people's voices came murmuring from the gardens below; the far-off music + floated to her through the window. + </p> + <p> + “If I should <i>die!</i>” she said, in a wondering whisper,—"I, + Dolly Crewe! How strange it sounds! Have I never thought that I could die + before, or is it strange because now it is so real and near? When I used + to talk about death to Grif, it always seemed so far away from both of us; + it seemed to me as if I was not good enough or unreal enough to be near to + Death,—great, solemn Death itself. Why, I could look at myself, and + wonder at the thought of how much I shall see and know if I should die. + Grif, how much I should have to tell you, dear,—only that people are + always afraid of spirits, and perhaps you would be afraid, too,—even + of me! What would they say at home? Dear, old, broken-hearted fellow, what + would <i>you</i> say, if I should die?” + </p> + <p> + She could not help thinking about those at home; about Aimée and Mollie + and Phil and Toinette, sitting together in the dear old littered room at + Bloomsbury Place,—the dear old untidy room, where she had sat with + Grif so often! How would they all bear it when the letter came to tell + them she was gone, and would never be with them and share their pleasures + and troubles again! And then, strangely enough, she began to picture + herself as she would look; perhaps, laid out in this very room, a dimly + outlined figure, under a white sheet,—not her old self, but a + solemn, wondrous marble form, before whose motionless, mysterious presence + they would feel awed. + </p> + <p> + “And they would turn down the white covering and look at me,” she found + herself saying. “And they would wonder at me, and feel that I was far + away. Oh, how they would wonder at me! And, at the very last, before they + hid my face forever under the coffin-lid, they would all kiss me in that + tender, solemn way,—all but Grif, who loved me best; and Grif would + not be there!” + </p> + <p> + And the piteous rain of heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks, and fell + upon her pillow, was not for herself,—not for her own pain and + weariness and anguish,—not' for the white, worn face, that would be + shut beneath the coffin-lid, but for Grif,—for Grif,—for Grif, + who, coming back some day to learn the truth, might hear that she had + died! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING? + </h2> + <p> + IT had come at last,—the letter from Geneva, for which they all had + waited with such anxious hearts and so much of dread. The postman, + bringing it by the morning's delivery, and handing it through the opened + door to Aimée, had wondered a little at her excited manner,—she was + always excited when these letters came; and the moment she had entered the + parlor, holding the hurriedly read note,—it was scarcely more than a + note,—there was not one of them who did not understand all before + she spoke. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil burst into tears; Phil himself laid down his brush and changed + color; Mollie silently clung to Tod as a refuge, and looked up with + trembling lips. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Phil was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You may as well tell us the worst,” she said; “but it is easy enough to + guess what it is, without being told.” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost the <i>very</i> worst,” answered Aimée. + </p> + <p> + “Miss MacDowlas wants me to go to them at once. <i>She</i> is so ill that + if a change does not take place, she will not live many weeks, and she has + asked for me.” + </p> + <p> + They all knew only too well that “she” meant Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Phil, “you must go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I can go to-day,” she answered. “I knew it would come to this, and I am + ready to leave London at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + There was no delay. Her small box was even then ready packed and corded + for the journey. She had taken Miss MacDowlas's warning in time. It would + not have been like this heavy-hearted wise one to disregard it. She would + have been ready to go to Dolly at ten minutes' notice, if she had been in + India. She was not afraid, either, of making the journey alone. It was not + a very terrible journey, she said. Secretly, she had a fancy that perhaps + Dolly would like to see her by herself first, to have a few quiet days + alone with her, in which she could become used to the idea of the farewell + the rest would come to say. And in her mind the poor little oracle had + another fancy, too, and this fancy she confided to Mollie before bidding + her good-by. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” she said, “I am going to leave a charge in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything about Dolly?” asked Mollie, making fruitless efforts to + check her affectionate tears. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would leave me something to do for Dolly, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “It is something connected with Dolly;” returned Aimée. “I want you to + keep constantly on the watch for Griffith.” + </p> + <p> + “For Griffith!” Mollie exclaimed. “How can I, when I don't know whether he + is in England or not?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in England,” Aimée replied. “He is in London, for Mr. Gowan has + seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “In London—and Dolly in Switzerland, perhaps dying!” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know that, or he would have been with her before now,” said + Aimée. “Once let him know that she is ill, and he will be with her. I know + him well enough to be sure of that. And it is my impression that if he + went to her at the eleventh hour, when she might seem to us to be at the + very last, he would bring her back to life. It is Grif she is dying for, + and only Grif can save her.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you want me to do?” anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “To watch for him constantly, as I said. Don't <i>you</i> think, Mollie, + that he might come back, if it were only into the street to look at the + house, in a restless sort of remembrance of the time when they used to be + so happy?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be unlike him,” answered Mollie, slowly. “He was very fond + of Dolly. Oh, he was very fond of her!” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her! He loved her better than his life, and does still, wherever + he may be. Something tells me he will come, and that is why I want you to + watch. Watch at the window as constantly as you can, but more particularly + at dusk; and if you should see him, Mollie, don't wait a second. Run out + to him, and <i>make</i> him listen to you. Ah, poor fellow, he will listen + eagerly and penitently enough, if you only say to him that Dolly is + dying.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Mollie, “I will remember.” And thus the wise one took + her departure. + </p> + <p> + It was twilight in Bloomsbury Place, and Mollie crouched before the parlor + window, resting her chin upon her hands, and looking out, pretty much as + Aimée had looked out on that winter evening months ago, when Mr. Gerald + Chandos had first presented himself to her mind as an individual to be + dreaded. + </p> + <p> + Three days had passed since the wise one left London,—three + miserable, dragging days they had seemed to Mollie, despite their summer + warmth and sunshine. Real anxiety and sorrow were new experiences in + Vagabondia; little trials they had felt, and often enough small + unpleasantnesses, privations, and disappointments; but death and grief + were new. And they were just beginning to realize broadly the blow which + had fallen upon them; hard as it was to believe at first, they were + beginning slowly to comprehend the sad meaning of the lesson they were + learning now for the first time. What each had felt a fear of in secret + was coming to pass at last, and there was no help against it. + </p> + <p> + Phil went about his work looking as none of them had ever seen him look + before. Mrs. Phil's tears fell thick and fast. Not understanding the + mystery, she could blame nobody but Grif, and Grif she could not forgive. + To Mollie the house seemed like a grave. She could think of nothing but + Dolly,—Dolly, white and worn and altered, lying upon her couch, her + eyes closed, her breath fluttering faintly. She wondered if she was afraid + to die. She herself had a secret girlish terror of death and its strange + solemness, and she so pitied Dolly that sometimes she could not contain + her grief, and was obliged to hide herself until her tears spent + themselves. + </p> + <p> + She had been crying during all this twilight hour she had knelt at the + window. She was so lonely that it seemed impossible to do anything else. + It would have been bad enough to bear the suspense even if Aimée had been + with her, but without Aimée it was dreadful. The tears slipped down her + cheeks and rolled away, and she did not even attempt to dry them, her + affectionate grief had mastered her completely. But she was roused at + length. Some one crossed the street from the pavement opposite the house; + and when this some one entered the gate and ascended the steps, she rose + slowly, half-reluctant, half-comforted, and with a faint thrill at her + heart. It was Ralph Gowan, and she was not wise enough or self-controlled + enough yet to see Ralph Gowan without feeling her pulses quicken. + </p> + <p> + When she opened the door he did not greet her as usual, but spoke to her + at once in a low, hurried tone. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie, where is Aimée?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Her tears began to flow again; she could not help giving way. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come in,” she said, half turning away from him and + speaking brokenly. “Aimée is not here. She left London three days ago. + Dolly—” + </p> + <p> + “Dolly is worse!” he said, because she could not finish. + </p> + <p> + She nodded, with a heart too full for words. + </p> + <p> + He stepped inside, and, closing the door, laid his hand upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mollie,” he said, “I must come to you.” + </p> + <p> + He did not wait a moment, but led her gently enough into the parlor, and, + blinded as she was by her tears, she saw that instant that he had not come + without a reason. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” he said. “I want you to be brave and calm now,—for + Dolly's sake. I want your help,—for Dolly's sake, remember.” + </p> + <p> + She recollected Aimée's words—"Mr. Gowan has seen him"—and a + sudden light flashed upon her. The tears seemed to dry of their own accord + all at once, as she looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He knew, without hearing another word, that he might trust her. + </p> + <p> + “Can you guess whom I have just this moment seen?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” sprang from her lips, without a second's hesitation. “You have seen + Grif.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Grif,” he answered. “He is at the corner of the street now. + If I had attempted to speak to him he would have managed to avoid me; and + because I knew that, I came here, hoping to find Aimée; but since Aimée is + not here—” + </p> + <p> + “I can go,” she interrupted him, all a-tremble with eagerness. “He will + listen to me; he was fond of me, too, and I was fond of him. Oh! let me go + now!” + </p> + <p> + That bright little scarlet shawl of Dolly's lay upon the sofa, and she + snatched it up with shaking hands and threw it over her head and + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “If I can speak to him once, he will listen,” she said; “and if he + listens, Dolly will be saved. She won't die if Grif comes back. She can't + die if Grif comes back. Oh, Dolly, my darling, you saved me, and I am + going to try to save you.” + </p> + <p> + She was out in the street in two minutes, standing on the pavement, + looking up and down, and then she ran across to the other side. She kept + close to the houses, so that she might be in their shadow, and a little + sob broke from her as she hurried along,—a sob of joy and fear and + excitement. At the end of the row of houses somebody was standing under + the street lamp,—a man. Was it Grif,—or could Grif have gone + even in this short time? Fate could never have been so cruel to him, to + her, to them all, as to let him come so near and then go away without + hearing that Dolly was lying at death's portals, and no one could save her + but himself and the tender power of the sweet, old, much-tried love. Oh, + no, no! It was Grif indeed; for as she neared the place where he stood, + she saw his face in the lamp-light,—a grief-worn, pallid face, + changed and haggard and desperate,—a sight that made her cry out + aloud. + </p> + <p> + He had not seen her or even heard her. He stood there looking toward the + house she had left, and seeing, as it seemed, nothing else. Only the + darkness had hidden her from him. His eyes were fixed upon the dim light + that burned in Dolly's window. She had not meant to speak until she stood + close to him; but when she was within a few paces of him her excitement + mastered her. + </p> + <p> + “Grif,” she cried out; “Grif, is it you?” + </p> + <p> + And when he turned, with a great start, to look at her, she was upon him,—her + hands outstretched, the light upon her face, the tears streaming down her + cheeks,—sobbing aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he answered, “is it <i>you?</i>” And she saw that he almost + staggered. + </p> + <p> + She could not speak at first. She clung to his arm so tightly that he + could scarcely have broken away from her if he had tried. But he did not + try; it seemed as though her touch made him weak,—weaker than he had + ever been before in his life. Beauty as she was, they had always thought + her in some way like Dolly, and, just now, with Dolly's gay little scarlet + shawl slipping away from her face, with the great grief in her imploring + eyes, with that innocent appealing trick of the clinging hands, she might + almost have been Dolly's self. + </p> + <p> + Try as he might, he could not regain his self-control. He was sheerly + powerless before her. + </p> + <p> + “Mollie,” he said, “what has brought you here? Why have you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” she answered, “for Dolly's sake!” + </p> + <p> + The vague fear he had felt at first caught hold upon him with all the + fulness of its strength. + </p> + <p> + “For Dolly's sake!” he echoed. “Nay, Dolly has done with me, and I with + her.” And though he tried to speak bitterly, he failed. + </p> + <p> + She was too fond of Dolly, and too full of grief to spare him after that. + Unstrung as she was, her reproach burst forth from her without a softened + touch. “Dolly has done with earth. Dolly's life is over,” she sobbed. “Do + you know that she is dying? Yes, dying,—our own bright Dolly,—and + you—<i>you</i> have killed her!” + </p> + <p> + She had not thought how cruel it would sound, and the next instant she was + full of terror at the effect of her own words. He broke loose from her,—<i>fell</i> + loose from her, one might better describe it, for it was his own weight + rather than any effort which dragged him from her grasp. He staggered and + caught hold of the iron railings to save himself, and there hung, staring + at her with a face like a dead man. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he said,—not another word. + </p> + <p> + “You must not give way like that,” she cried out, in a new fright. “Oh, + how could I speak so! Aimée would have told you better. I did not mean to + be so hard. You can save her if you will. She will not die, Grif, if you + go to her. She only wants <i>you</i>. Grif,—Grif,—you look as + if you could not understand what I am saying.” And she wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, it scarcely seemed as if he did understand, though at last he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he said. “Not here? You say I must 'go' to her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she is not here. She is at Lake Geneva. Miss MacDowlas took her there + because she grew so weak, and she has grown weaker ever since, and three + days ago they sent for Aimée to come to her, because—because they + think she is going to die.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say that <i>I</i> have done this?” + </p> + <p> + “I ought n't to have put it that way, it sounds so cruel, but—but + she has never been like herself since the night you went away, and we have + all known that it was her unhappiness that made her ill. She could not get + over it, and though she tried to hide it, she was worn out. She loved you + so.” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “If she is dying for me,” he said, hoarsely, “she must have loved me, and + if she has loved me through all this,—God help us both!” + </p> + <p> + “How could you go away and leave her all alone after all those years?” + demanded Mollie. “We cannot understand it. No one knows but Aimée, and + Dolly has told her that you were not to blame. Why did you go?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> do not know?” he said. “You should know, Mollie, of all + others. <i>You</i> were with her when she played that miserable coquette's + trick,—that pitiful trick, so unlike herself,—you were with + her that night when she let Gowan keep her away from me, when I waited for + her coming hour after hour. I saw you with them when he was bidding her + goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + They had hidden their secret well all these months, but it was to be + hidden no longer now. It flashed upon her like an electric shock. She + remembered a hundred things,—a hundred little mysteries she had met + and been puzzled by, in Aimee's manner; she remembered all she had heard, + and all she had wondered at, and her heart seemed turned to stone. The + flush of weeping died out of her face, her hands fell and hung down at her + side, her tears were gone; nothing seemed left to her but blank horror. + </p> + <p> + “Was it because she did not come that night, that you left her to die?” + she asked, in a labored voice. “Was it because you saw her with Ralph + Gowan—was it because you found out that she had been with him, that + you went away and let her break her heart? Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + He answered her, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, turning to face him, still cold, and almost rigid, “it + is <i>I</i> who have killed her, and not you.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She did not wait to choose her words, or try to soften the story of her + own humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “If she dies,” she said, “she has died for me.” + </p> + <p> + And without further preface she told him all. How she had let Gerald + Chandos flatter and gain power over her, until the climax of her folly had + been the wild, wilful escapade of that miserable long-past day. How Ralph + Gowan had discovered her romantic secret, and revealed it to Dolly. How + they had followed and rescued her; even how Dolly had awakened her from + her dangerous dream with that light touch, and had drawn her away from the + brink of an abyss, with her loving, girlish hands; and she ended with an + outburst of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Why did n't she tell you?” she said. “For my sake she did not want the + rest to know; but why did not she tell you? I cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + “She tried to tell me,” he said, in an agony of self-reproach, as he began + to see what he had done,—"she tried to tell me, and I would not hear + her.” + </p> + <p> + All his bygone sufferings—and, Heaven knows, he had suffered + bitterly and heavily enough—sank into insignificance before the + misery of this hour. To know how true and pure of heart she had been; to + know how faithful, unselfish, sweet; to remember how she had met him with + a tender little cry of joy, with outstretched, innocent hands, that he had + thrust aside; to remember the old golden days in which she had so clung to + him, and brightened his life; to think how he had left her lying upon the + sofa that night, her white face drooping piteously against the cushions; + to have all come back to him and know that he only was to blame; to know + it all too late. Nay, a whole life of future bliss could never quite + efface the memory of such a passion of remorse and pain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he prayed, “have mercy upon me!” And then he turned upon + Mollie. “Tell me where to go to; tell me, and let me go. I must go to her + now without a moment's waiting. My poor, faithful little girl,—my + pretty Dolly! Dying,—dying! No, I don't believe it,—I won't. + She cannot die yet. Fate has been cruel enough to us, but it cannot be so + cruel as that. Love will <i>make</i> her live.” + </p> + <p> + He dashed down Mollie's directions in desperate, feverish haste upon a + leaf of his memorandum-book, and then he bade her good-by. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear!” he said. “Perhaps you have saved us both. I am + going to her now. Pray for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought rather to pray for myself,” she said; “but for me you would never + have been separated. I have done it all.” + </p> + <p> + And a few minutes after he had gone, Ralph Gowan, who had awaited her + return before the window, turned to see her enter the room like a spirit + and fling herself down before him, looking white and shaken and pale. + </p> + <p> + “I have found it all out now,” she cried. “I have found it all out. I have + done all this, Mr. Gowan; it is through me her heart is broken, and if she + dies, I shall have caused her death, as surely as if I had killed her with + my own hand. Oh, save me from thinking she will die,—help me to + think she will live,—help me!” + </p> + <p> + There was no one else to help her, and the blind terror of the thought was + so great that she must have help, or die. To have so injured Dolly, whom + she so loved,—to have, by her own deed, brought that dread shadow of + Death upon Dolly, who had saved her! Her heart seemed crushed. If Aimée + had been there; but Aimée was not, so she stretched out her hands to the + man she had so innocently loved. And as she so knelt before him,—so + fair, in the childlike <i>abandon</i> of her grief, so guileless and + trusting in her sudden, sweet appeal, so helpless against the world, even + against herself,—his man's heart was touched and stirred as it had + never been before,—as even Dolly herself had not stirred it. + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” he said, taking her hands and drawing her nearer to + himself. “My poor, pretty Mollie, come to me.” + </p> + <p> + And why not, my reader? If one rose is not for us, the sun shines on many + another as sweet and quite as fair; and what is more, it is more than + probable that if we had seen the last rose first, we should have loved the + first rose last. It is only when, like Dolly and Grif, we have watched our + rose from its first peep of the leaf, and have grown with its growth, that + there can be no other rose but one. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Le roi est mort—Vive le roi!</i>” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF! + </h2> + <p> + THERE was a hush upon the guests at the pretty little inn. Most of them + were not sojourners of a day, who came and went, as they did at the larger + and busier hotels,—they were comfortable people who enjoyed + themselves in their own quiet way and so had settled down for the time + being. Accordingly they had leisure to become interested in each other; + and there were few of them who did not feel a friendly interest in the + pretty, pale English girl, who, report said, was fading silently out of + life in her bright room up-stairs. When Aimée arrived, the most + sympathetic shook their heads dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “The sister is here,” they said; “a thoughtful little English creature + with a child's face and a woman's air. They sent for her. One can easily + guess what that means.” + </p> + <p> + Any one but Aimée would have been crushed at the outset by the shock of + the change which was to be seen in the poor little worn figure, now rarely + moved from its invalid's couch. But Aimée bore the blow with outward quiet + at least. If she shed tears Dolly did not see them, and if she mourned + Dolly was not disturbed by her sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to help Miss MacDowlas to take care of you, Dolly,” she said, + when she gave her her greeting kiss, and Dolly smiled and kissed her in + return. + </p> + <p> + But it was a terribly hard matter to fight through at first. Of course, as + the girl had become weaker she had lost power over herself. She was + restless and listless by turns. Sometimes she started at every sound, and + again she lay with closed eyes for hours, dozing the day away. The mere + sight of her in this latter state threw poor Phemie into an agony of + terror and distress. + </p> + <p> + “It is so like Death,” she would say to Aimée. “It seems as if we could + never rouse her again.” + </p> + <p> + And then again she would rally a little, and at such times she would + insist upon being propped up and allowed to talk, and her eyes would grow + large and bright, and a spot of hectic color would burn on her cheeks. She + did not even mention her trouble during the first two days of Aimée's + visit, but on the third afternoon she surprised her by broaching the + subject suddenly. She had been dozing, and on awakening she began to talk. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” she said, “where is Miss MacDowlas?” + </p> + <p> + “In her room. I persuaded her to go and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad,” quietly. “I want to do something particular. I want + Grif's letters, Aimée.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” Aimée asked. + </p> + <p> + “In a box in my trunk. I should like to have them now.” + </p> + <p> + Aimée brought them to her without comment. The box had not been large + enough to hold them all, and there was an extra packet tied with that dear + old stereotyped blue ribbon. + </p> + <p> + “What a many there are!” said Dolly, when she came to the couch with them. + “You will have to sit down by me and hold some of them. One can write a + great many letters in seven years.” + </p> + <p> + The wise one sat down, obediently holding the box upon her knee. There + were so many letters in it that it was quite heavy. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to look them over and tie them in packages, according to their + dates,” said Dolly. “He will like to have them when he comes back.” + </p> + <p> + It would not have been natural for her to preserve her calmness all + through the performance of her task. Her first glance at the first letter + brought the tears, and she cried quietly as she passed from one to the + other. They were such tender, impetuous letters. The very headings—"My + Darling,” “My pretty Darling,” “My own sweetest Life"—impassioned, + youthful-sounding, and Grif-like, cut her to the heart. Ah! how terrible + it would be for him to see them again, as he would see them! She was + pitying him far more than she was pitying herself. + </p> + <p> + It was a work not soon over, but she finished it at length. The packets + were assorted and tied with new ribbon, and she lay down for a few minutes + to rest. + </p> + <p> + “You will give them to him, Aimée?” she said. “I think he will come some + day; but if he does not, you must keep them yourself. I should not like + people to read them—afterwards. Love-letters won't stand being read + by strangers. I have often laughed and told him ours would n't. I am going + to write a last one, however, this afternoon. You are to give it him, with + the 'dead' letter—but they are all dead letters, are they not?” + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” said Aimée, with a desperate effort, “you speak as if you were + sure you were—going.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, and then a soft, low, tremulous laugh,—the + merest echo of a laugh. Despite her long suffering Dolly was Dolly yet. + She would not let them mourn over her. + </p> + <p> + “Going,” she said, “well—I think I am. Yes,” half reflectively, “I + think I must be. It cannot mean anything else,—this feeling, can it? + It was a long time before I quite believed it myself, Aimée, but now I + should be obliged to believe it if I did not wish to.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you wish to, now?” + </p> + <p> + That little silence again, and then— + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see Grif,—I want Grif,—that is all.” + </p> + <p> + She managed to write her last love-letter after this, and to direct it and + tie it with the letter which had returned to her,—the “dead” letter. + But the effort seemed to tire her very much, and when all was done and her + restless excitement had died out, she looked less like herself than ever. + She could talk no more, and was so weak and prostrate that Aimée was + alarmed into summoning Miss MacDowlas. + </p> + <p> + But Miss MacDowlas could only shake her head. “We cannot do anything to + rouse her,” she said. “It is often so. If the end comes, it will come in + this way. She feels no pain.” + </p> + <p> + That night Aimée wrote to those at home. They must come at once if they + wanted to see Dolly. She watched all night by the bedside herself; she + could not have slept if she had gone to her own room, and so she remained + with Dolly, watching her doze and waken, starting from nervous sleeps and + sinking into them again. + </p> + <p> + “There will not be many nights through which I can watch,” she said to + herself. “Even this might be the last.” And then she turned to the window, + and cried silently, thinking of Grif, and wondering what she should say to + him, if they ever met again. + </p> + <p> + How could she say to him, “Dolly is dead! Dolly died because you left + her!” + </p> + <p> + Another weary day and night, and then the old change came again. The + feverish strength seemed to come once more. Dolly would be propped up, and + talk. Before very long Aimée began to fancy that she had something she + wished to say to Miss Mac-Dowlas. She followed her movements with eager, + unsatisfied eyes, and did not seem at ease until she sat down near her. + Then when she had secured her attention the secret revealed itself. She + had something to say about Grif. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, during the long weary weeks of her illness she had learned to + place much confidence in Miss MacDowlas. Her affectionate nature had clung + to her. In telling anecdotes of life in Vagabondia, she had talked of + Grif,—Vagabondia would not have been Vagabondia without Grif,—and + there was always a thrill of faithful love in her simplest mention of him. + Truly, Miss MacDowlas beheld her reprobate nephew in a new light, + surrounded by a halo of innocent romance and unselfish tenderness. This + poor little soul, who was breaking her heart for his sake, showed him + sinned against but never sinning, unfortunate but never to blame, showed + him honest, sweet of nature, true, and faultless. Where were his faults in + the eyes of his first and last love? The simple, whimsical stories of + their loves and lovers' quarrels, of their small economies and perfect + faith in the future,—a faith so sadly wrecked, as it seemed, by + cruel Fate,—brought tears into Miss MacDowlas's eyes. Eloquent, + affectionate Dolly won her over before she knew what she was thinking + about. He could not have been such a reprobate, after all,—this + Griffith Donne, who had so often roused her indignation. Perhaps he could + not help being literary and wearing a shabby coat and a questionable hat. + And Dolly had in the end begun to see how her long-fixed opinion had + softened and changed. So she had courage to plead for Grif this afternoon. + She wanted to be sure that if he should ever come back, there would be a + hand outstretched to help him. + </p> + <p> + “He only wanted help,” she said; “and no one has ever helped him, though + he tried so hard and worked so. Aimée knows how hard he worked, don't you, + Aimée?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Aimée, turning her working face away. + </p> + <p> + “I should like you to promise,” said Dolly, wistfully, to Miss MacDowlas. + “It would make me so much happier. You have been so kind to me,—I am + sure you will be kind to him,—poor Grif,—poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Miss MacDowlas bent over her, touched to the heart. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “he shall never want help again. He must have been + worthy of so much love, or he would never have won it. I owe him some + recompense, too. If I had not been so stupidly blind I might have saved + you both all this pain. I have grown very fond of you, Dolly,” she ended; + and then, being quite overcome, she kissed the pretty hair suddenly, gave + the thin hand an almost motherly squeeze, and made the best of her way out + of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Aimée,” said Dolly, “do you remember how often I have made fun of her, + when we were all so happy together? We made a good many mistakes, even in + Vagabondia, did n't we?” And then she closed her eyes and lay silent, with + wet lashes resting on her cheek. + </p> + <p> + In speaking of this afternoon, long afterwards, Aimée said it seemed the + longest and weariest she had ever known. It was extremely hot, and the + very air seemed laden with heavy languor. The sun beat down upon the outer + world whitely, and scarcely a leaf stirred. Miss MacDowlas did not return, + and Dolly, though she was not asleep, lay quite still and did not open her + eyes again. So Aimée sat and watched at her side, wondering how the day + would end,—wondering if Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie would arrive + before it was too late,—wondering what that strange last hour would + be like, and how Dolly would bear it when it came, and how they themselves + would bear to think of it when it was over. + </p> + <p> + She was not quite sure how long she sat watching so, but she fancied that + it must have been two or three hours, or even more. She got up at last and + drew down the green blinds as noiselessly as possible, and then went back + to her place and rested her head upon the pillow near Dolly's, feeling + drowsy and tired,—she had slept so little during the past few + nights. + </p> + <p> + Dolly moved restlessly, stretching out her hand to Aimée's and opening her + eyes all at once—ah! what large, hollow, shadowy eyes they were! + </p> + <p> + “I am very tired,” she murmured, “so tired and so weak, Aimée,” dreamily. + “I suppose this is what you would call dying of a broken heart. It seems + so queer that I should die of a broken heart.” “Oh, Dolly—Dolly!” + Aimée whispered, “our own dearest dear, we never thought such pain could + come to you.” + </p> + <p> + But even the next moment Dolly seemed to have lost herself, her eyes + closed again and she did not speak. So Aimée lay holding her hand, until + the indoor silence, the shadow of the room, and the sound of the droning + bees outside lulled her into a sort of doze, and her own eyelids fell + wearily. + </p> + <p> + A minute, was it, five or ten, or more than that? + </p> + <p> + She could not say. She only remembered her own last words, the warmth, the + shadow, the droning of the bees, and the gradual losing consciousness, and + then she was wide awake again,—awakened by a strange, wild cry, + which, thrilling and echoing through the room, made her start up with a + beating heart and look towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Grif!” + </p> + <p> + That was all,—only this single rapturous cry, and Dolly, who had + before seemed not to have the strength of a child, was sitting up, a + white, tremulous figure, with outstretched arms and fluttering breath, and + Grif was standing upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Even when she had blamed him most, Aimée had pitied him also; but she had + never pitied him as she did when he strode to the couch and took the weak, + worn, tremulous little figure in his arms. He could not speak,—neither + spoke. Dolly lay upon his breast crying like a little child. But for him—his + grief was terrible; and when the loving hand was laid upon his cheek and + Dolly found her first words, they only seemed to make it worse. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry,” she said. “Don't cry, dear. Kiss me!” He kissed her lips, her + hands, her hair. He could not bear it. She was so like, yet so fearfully + unlike, the winsome, tender creature he had loved so long. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” he cried, in his old mad way, “you are dying, and if you die + it will be I who have murdered you!” + </p> + <p> + She moved a little nearer, so that her pretty face rested against his + shoulder and she could lift her streaming eyes to his, her old smile + shining through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old fellow,” she said, “darling old fellow, whom I love with all my + soul! I shall live just to prove that you have done nothing of the kind!” + </p> + <p> + It was only Grif she wanted,—only Grif, and Grif had come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR. + </h2> + <p> + OF course she recovered. What else could she do? If a man is dying for + want of bread and you give him bread enough and to spare, he will regain + strength and life, will he not? And so with Dolly. Having found Grif, she + had nothing to die for and so much to live for, that she lived. It seemed, + too, that even if she had been inclined to die, Grif would have held her + fast to earth. It was worse than useless to attempt to delude him into + leaving her side, even for an hour; he hung over the invalid's couch, in + such an anguish of half-despairing anxiety that the hearts of the + unceremoniously deposed nurses were quite touched. He watched every change + in Dolly's face, every brightening or fading tint in her cheek, every + glance of her eyes; he followed her every movement. If she was tired of + her posture, he could raise her or lay her down and settle her cushions as + no one else could; if she was strong enough to listen, he could talk to + her; if she was too weak, he could be silent. + </p> + <p> + But naturally there was much to talk about. Not that the period of his + absence had been a very eventful one. It was as Ralph Gowan had fancied,—he + had been living quietly enough in a secluded London street during the + whole of the time; but Dolly found the history of his self-banishment both + interesting and soul-moving. The story of his miseries brought the tears + into her eyes, and his picture of what he had suffered on that unhappy + night, when he had rushed out of the house and left her insensible upon + the sofa, made her cling to his hand convulsively and sob outright. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely believe you are here,—quite safe,” she would say; + “you might have killed yourself.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed he had been in no small danger of so doing. + </p> + <p> + Among all this, however, there was one bit of brightness,—a + wonderful piece of news he told her that very day after his return. + Fortune had, with her usual caprice, condescended to smile upon him at + last. Incredible as it appeared, he had “got into something,” and this + “something” was actually remunerative,—reasonably remunerative, if + not extravagantly so. Four hundred a year would pay the rent of the + figurative house in Putney or elsewhere, and buy the green sofa and + appurtenances, at least. Dolly could scarcely believe it, and, indeed, he + scarcely believed it himself. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed as if, when I had lost all else, this came to add to the + bitterness of the loss,” he said. “I am afraid I was far from being as + grateful, at first, as I ought to have been. I could only remember how + happy such luck would have made us both if it had only come a year or so + earlier. And the very day I got the place I passed the upholsterer's where + the parlor furniture was,—green sofa and all. And I went home with + the firm intention of blowing my brains out. The only thing that saved me + that day was the fact that my landlady met me at the door with a miserable + story about her troubles and her taxes, and by the time I had listened for + half an hour, and done something she wanted done, I had cooled down a + little, though I was wretched enough.” + </p> + <p> + “The 'something' was paying the taxes, was n't it?” questioned Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Something of that kind,” admitted Griffith. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Dolly, “I thought so.” + </p> + <p> + Very naturally Griffith felt some slight embarrassment on encountering + Miss MacDowlas, having a rather unpleasant recollection of various + incidents of the past. But Miss Berenice faced the matter in a different + manner and with her usual decision of character. She had made up her mind + to receive Griffith Donne as a respectable fact, and then, through Dolly's + eloquence, she had learned to regard him with even a sort of affection,—a + vague affection, of course, at the outset, but one which would ripen with + time. Thus she rather surprised him by confronting him upon an entirely + new ground. She was cordial and amiable, and on the first opportunity she + explained her change of feeling with great openness. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard so much of you from Dolly,” she said, “that I am convinced I + have known nothing of you before. I hope we shall be better friends. I am + very fond of Dolly. I wish I had known her three or four years ago.” + </p> + <p> + And there was such a softened tenderness in her thin, unpromising face, + that from thenceforward Griffith's doubts were removed and his opinion + altered, as hers had done. The woman who had loved and pitied Dolly when + she so sorely needed pity and love, must be worthy of gratitude and + affection. + </p> + <p> + Phil and 'Toinette and Mollie arriving, in the deepest affliction, to + receive Dolly's last farewell, were rather startled by the turn affairs + had taken. Changed as she was, the face she turned to greet them was not + the face of a dying girl. She was deplorably pale and shrunken and thin, + but the light of life was in her eyes and a new ring was in her voice. She + had vitality enough to recognize fresh charms in Tod, and spirit enough to + make a few jokes. + </p> + <p> + “She won't die,” commented Phil to his wife when they retired to their + room. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Phil, discreetly, “it is not likely, now Grif has come + back. But it won't do to waste the journey, Phil, so we may as well stay + awhile. We have not been anywhere out of London this summer.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, with their usual genius for utilizing all things, they + prolonged their visit and made it into a kind of family festival; and + since their anxiety on Dolly's behalf was at an end, they managed to enjoy + it heartily. They walked here, and rode there, and explored unheard-of + points and places; they kept the quiet people in the quiet hotel in a + constant state of pleasant ferment with their good spirits and + unceremonious friendliness. Mollie and Aimée and Mrs. Phil excited such + general admiration that when they made their appearance at the <i>table + d'hôte</i> there was a visible stir and brightening, and Dolly was so + constantly inquired after, that there were serious thoughts entertained of + issuing hourly bulletins. The reaction of high spirits after their fears + was something exhilarating even to beholders. + </p> + <p> + And while they enjoyed themselves, and explored, and instituted a high + carnival of innocent rejoicing, Dolly directed all her energies to the + task of getting well and filling Grif's soul with hope and bliss. As soon + as she had fully recovered they were to be married,—not a day, not + an hour, longer would Grif consent to wait. His only trouble was that she + would not be strong enough to superintend the purchase of the green sofa + and appurtenances. Aimée had, however, proved his rock of refuge as usual + They were to return to London together and make the necessary + preparations, and then the wedding was to take place in Geneva, and the + bride would be carried home in triumph. + </p> + <p> + “We have been so long in travelling toward the little house at Putney that + it will be the nicest bridal tour we could have,” said Dolly. + </p> + <p> + Then, of course, came some pleasant excitement in connection with the + trousseau, in which everybody was involved. The modest hotel had never + before been in such a state of mind through secret preparations, as it was + when Dolly was well enough to sit up and walk about and choose patterns. + Her instinct of interest in worldly vanities sustained that young person + marvellously. When Grif and Aimée had returned to London she found herself + well enough to give lengthy audiences to Mrs. Phil, who, with Miss + MacDowlas, had taken the business of purchasing in hand, and to discuss + fabrics and fashions by the hour. She remembered Grifs enthusiasm on the + subject of her toilets, and she was wholly ruled by a secret and laudable + ambition to render herself as irresistible as possible. She exercised to + its utmost her inventive genius, and lay awake at night to devise simple + but coquettish feminine snares of attire to delight and bewilder him in + the future. + </p> + <p> + She might well progress rapidly toward health and strength. By the time + the house was ready for her reception she was well enough to drive out and + explore with the rest, though she looked frail and unsubstantial by + contrast with Mollie's bloom and handsome Mrs. Phil's grand curves. She + was gaining flesh and color every day, but the slender throat and wrists + and transparent hands were a bitter reproach to Grif even then, and it + would be many weeks before she could again indulge in that old harmless + vanity in her dimples and smooth roundness of form. + </p> + <p> + Mollie mourned over her long, in secret, and, indeed, was so heart-wrung + by the sight of the change she found in her, that the very day of her + arrival had not drawn to its close before she burst upon her with a + remorseful appeal for forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “But even if you forgive me I shall not forgive myself,” she said. “I + shall never forget that dreadful night when I found out that it was all my + fault, and that you had borne everything without telling me. If—if + it had not been for—for Mr. Gowan, Dolly, I think I should have + died.” + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for whom?” asked Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gowan,” answered Miss Mollie, dropping her eyes, her very throat dyed + with guilty blushes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Dolly. “And what did Mr. Gowan do, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very kind—and sympathizing,” replied Mollie. + </p> + <p> + “He always is sympathizing,” looking at her with affectionate shrewdness. + “He is very nice, is n't he, Mollie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mollie. “Very nice, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “And I dare say you were so frightened and wretched that you cried?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” confessed the abashed catechised. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so.” And then, conjuring up in her mind's eye a picture of + Mollie, heart-broken, appealing and in tears, beauteous, piteous, and + grief-abandoned, she added, with tender impulsiveness, “I don't wonder + that he sympathized with you, Mollie.” + </p> + <p> + It revealed itself shortly afterward that his sympathy had not confined + itself to the night Mollie called “dreadful.” Since that night he had been + a frequent visitor at Bloomsbury Place,—as frequent a visitor as he + had been in the days when Dolly had been wont so to entertain him. + </p> + <p> + A week after the return of Aimée and Grif from London, there fell again + upon the modest hotel a hush; but it was not the hush of sympathetic + silence which had fallen upon it before,—it was merely a sort of + reaction after a slight excitement. The pretty English girl had, to every + one's wonder, suddenly returned to earth and had been married! The wisest + were bewildered, but such was the fact, nevertheless; nobody could exactly + comprehend, but who could deny it? It was a mystery, indeed, until one + day, some time after, a usually phlegmatic matron was struck with an idea, + and accordingly propounded to her friends a somewhat vaguely expressed + problem. + </p> + <p> + “After the appearance of the lover one heard no more that she was dying?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the lover had something to do with the matter?”, “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she was dying for him, and his coming cured her?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. That must have been the case.” + </p> + <p> + And thenceforth the matter was deemed settled. However, the gay, + light-hearted party of English had taken their departure,—the + friendly young artist who sketched and smoked and enjoyed himself; his + handsome young wife, who sketched and played with her handsome child, and + enjoyed <i>herself</i>; the beautiful younger sister, who blushed and was + charmingly bashful, but enjoyed herself; the fair little saint with the + grave youthful face, who took care of them all, and yet enjoyed <i>herself</i>,—the + lover, the elder lady, the guest who came to be groomsman, the bride,—they + were all gone at last, and their absence was the cause of the hush of + which I speak. + </p> + <p> + There had been a wedding,—a joyous, light-hearted wedding, in which + the bride had looked pretty and flower-like and ethereal,—a fragile + creature enough in her white dress and under her white veil, but a + delightfully happy creature, notwithstanding,—in which the + bridegroom had been plainly filled with chivalric tenderness and bliss,—in + which the two sisters had been charming beyond measure, and the awkward, + affectionate girl friend from the seminary had blushed herself into a high + fever. There could not have been a more prettily orthodox wedding, said + the beholders. Somehow its glow of young romance touched people, it was so + evident that the young couple were fond of each other, and happy and + hopeful. There were those who, seeing it solemnized in the small church, + shed a few tears, they knew not why, when Grif lifted Dolly's veil and + kissed her without a word. + </p> + <p> + “It is all rose color to them,” said one of these soft-hearted ones, + apologetically, to her neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Rose color! I should think it was. + </p> + <p> + But if it was all rose color then, what was it that first evening they + spent at home,—in their own home, in the little house which was so + bright and pretty that it seemed more like a dream than a reality? What + color did life look when Grif led Dolly across the threshold, half + trembling himself for very joy? What color did it look when he shut the + door of the little parlor, and, turning round, went to her and folded her + in his arms close to his beating heart? + </p> + <p> + Rose color! It was golden and more than golden! And yet, for the first + minute, Dolly could not speak, and the next she laid her cheek in her + favorite place, on the lapel of Grif's coat, and burst into a great gush + of soft, warm tears,—tears without a touch of any other element, + however, than love and happiness. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Home</i>, Grif!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He was quite pale and he had almost lost his voice, too, but he managed to + answer her, unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dolly,” he said; “home!” And he stroked the bright hair upon his + breast, with a world of meaning in his touch. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she said next, “that I am good enough and wise enough to + take care of it, and to take care of <i>you</i>, Grif?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” he said, “that I am good enough and wise enough to take + care of <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted up her face and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “We love each other,” she whispered, “we trust each other, and so we can + help each other, and God will help us both. Ah, Grif, how bright and sweet + life is!” + </p> + <p> + And she scarcely knew, tender little soul, that instead of “life” she + should have said “love.” + </p> + <p> + There we will leave them both, merely hinting at the festivities that + followed,—merely hinting at the rejoicings at Bloomsbury Place, the + gatherings at Brabazon Lodge, and the grand family reception at the house + of the bride,—a reception at which Dolly shone forth with renewed + splendor, presiding over a gorgeous silver tea-service, which was one of + Miss MacDowlas's many gifts, dispensing tea and coffee with the deportment + of a housekeeper of many years' standing, and utterly distracting Grif + with her matronly airs and graces. + </p> + <p> + Vagabondia was itself again in these days, but it was turning its brighter + side outward. Phil was winning success, too, his position in the world of + art was becoming secured, and Bloomsbury Place was to be touched up and + refurnished gradually. Aimée had promised to make her home with Dolly + until such time as her sweet little saint's face won her a home of her + own. Miss MacDowlas had been adopted into the family circle, and was + conscious of being happier than she had ever felt since her long-past + youth slipped from her grasp. Tod's teeth were “through,” as Mrs. Phil + phrased it, and convulsions had not supervened, to the ecstasy of his + anxious admirers. And Mollie,—well, Mollie waltzed with Ralph Gowan + again on the night of Dolly's reception, and when the dance was at an end, + she went and seated herself near her hostess upon the green sofa—it + was a green sofa, though a far more luxurious one than Dolly and Grif had + ever dared to set their hearts upon in the olden days. + </p> + <p> + “Dolly,” she said, blushing for the last time in this history of mine, and + looking down at her bouquet of waxen-white camellias and green leaves,—"Dolly, + I suppose Aimée has told you that I am engaged to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To Mr. Gowan,” suggested Dolly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Mollie, “to Mr. Gowan.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vagabondia, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 25727-h.htm or 25727-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2/25727/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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