As I entered the lower hall, I met Mr. Lee. He gave me a look such as I never before saw in his face; it so increased my indignation, that, if it had not been for Jessie, I would have walked out of the house that instant.
"Miss Hyde," he said, in the low, measured tone his voice always took when he was angry, "will you step into the library for a moment?"
"Do you wish to speak with me?" I asked, rebelliously.
"If you have leisure."
I swept before him into the room. Every drop of blood in my veins tingled as if on fire. He followed me, and closed the door.
"How does it happen," he began, "that you and Jessie went upon an expedition like that of this morning without consulting me?"
I did my best to answer quietly, although his manner aggravated me almost beyond endurance.
"Simply because you were not here to consult," I replied.
"But you could have told me last night."
Then I flashed up a little, and said,—
"Mr. Lee, I am not a school-girl, to be crowded into a corner and catechized."
"Madam," he returned, "I think I have a right to know everything connected with my daughter; I will permit no mysteries in this house."
"There have been none on my part or Jessie's," I replied.
"Then be good enough to give me an explanation of what, I own, seems to me a singular proceeding in a lady of your acknowledged discretion."
"It is easily done," I answered, still remembering Jessie, and so remaining reasonably calm. "Yesterday, old Mrs. Bosworth sent for me; her grandson is very ill—he has brain-fever. He begged to see us particularly. I came home and told your wife; she said Jessie should go to-day. We expected you to accompany us. Last night there was no opportunity of speaking to you, every moment of your time was occupied. This morning, you were gone; but as I had the mother's permission, I thought it no harm to start. A visit to a sick, almost a dying man, can never injure your daughter, Mr. Lee."
His face flushed at once.
"I was mistaken," he said.
"You must have been cruelly mistaken or misinformed," I replied, coldly, "when you could address me as you have done."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Hyde," he returned.
I granted it with a sullen bend of the head.
"Who told you where we had gone?" I asked, bluntly.
He hesitated, and I followed up my advantage.
"No one knew of it but Mrs. Lee," I said; "you have not seen her to-day. Yesterday you reproved me for sending Cora out of the hall; sir, she was listening while I told Jessie, and repeated it to her mistress. I don't know what you may think of such conduct on the part of a guest; but to me the idea of making trouble in a house where one has been hospitably treated, seems very contemptible."
"Miss Hyde! Miss Hyde!" he exclaimed, "I assure you Mrs. Dennison did it thoughtlessly—she had no idea."
"Excuse me," said I, still burning with indignation, "I am quite capable of forming and holding my own opinions; it is a right I shall not readily relinquish."
I am sorry to say we very nearly had a serious quarrel; but I was so dissatisfied, so indignant that a man of his sense and refinement could be duped in the way he was, that I could not control myself.
We parted civilly enough, however; and when I went up-stairs, Jessie knew all about the affair; Mrs. Dennison had been to her crying and begging for forgiveness. She had thoughtlessly repeated to her father where we had gone, he was angry, and the whole thing was breaking her heart.
"I dare say she meant no harm," added Jessie; "she is so giddy."
"Pray, how did she know?" I asked.
"She fancied it, she said."
"That was a falsehood," I retorted. "Cora told her—I knew she was listening yesterday."
Jessie was as much shocked with me as her father had been. With their exaggerated ideas of hospitality, they considered it little less than a crime to acknowledge that a guest could have any fault.
"Oh, Aunt Matty!" she said, "I never knew you unjust before."
I was forced to go out of the room; my anger was over, and I felt the tears rushing to my eyes. I passed a very uncomfortable day. Jessie and her father came to an understanding; Mrs. Dennison soon had them both under her spell again, and I knew they blamed me exceedingly.
I loved them too well for real indignation; but I was broken-hearted at the idea that this woman could come between Jessie and her love for me.
There was company at dinner. I spent the evening in Mrs. Lee's room—the first comfortable hour I had passed since morning. She did not know that anything had gone wrong, pitied my head, which she was sure ached terribly, and by her sweet and tender kindness made me somewhat more reconciled to life.
I sat in my own room after I left her, but did not retire until very late. I heard the guests go away—heard the different members of the family pass up to their rooms; but still I sat by the window, sad and lonely. At last the clock struck one. I rose, startled into common-sense again, stopped star-gazing, and closing my window, prepared for rest.
Suddenly I heard a noise—very faint, but my nerves were wonderfully acute that night. I opened the door and looked into the hall; as I did so, I saw a figure clad in white glide out of Lottie's chamber, and disappear down the passage.
I fairly thought it something supernatural at first, then I ran out, but there was nothing to be seen. I stole to Lottie's room and looked in; she was sleeping soundly, so I went back to my own apartment. That incident, added to the excitement of the day, kept me awake for hours. I tried to convince myself that it was only one of my ridiculous fancies: but the effort was in vain; I knew that I had seen that white shape steal by—it was no delusion. Who was it? What was it?
I determined to say nothing, feeling certain that everybody would laugh at me. I knew that it was silly, but I could not drive away the terror that chilled my heart. Everything had gone so wrong of late, that quiet house was so changed, that the least thing disturbed me more than events of importance would once have done.
Lawrence called upon us the next day: that is, he came to the house and inquired for Mrs. Dennison, without one word regarding the rest of the family. Mr. Lee was sitting in the square balcony when the gentleman rode up, and cast a meaning glance at Jessie, as if he felt certain that the visit was for her. She shrunk from his look with something like affright; and when the servant came up with word that Mr. Lawrence was in the drawing-room, waiting for Mrs. Dennison, she gave me a look of wild reproof, as if I had been the cause of his evident displeasure.
Mr. Lee sat with his eyes upon her; and when Mrs. Dennison came from her chamber, the expression of his face became so like that which pained me in Jessie's, that I could not escape the idea that both suffered from the same cause.
The shock of this thought made me tremble. It had never fastened upon me as a reality before. Why did I turn so faint? Why did my soul rise up in such bitter protest? God help me, I am not wise enough to answer; the tumult of trouble within me was something I had never, till then, experienced. Still the idea was a terrible one. How could a woman of right principles feel otherwise? Thus I explained it away, and soothed myself into a belief that any true-hearted person living in that family as I did must have felt all the miserable sensations that tortured me.
These thoughts made me dizzy. When I could see clearly again, Jessie was gone, and Mr. Lee sat a little more upright in his chair, looking hard at the wall over the top of his book. I was glad those stern eyes were not turned on me.
Mrs. Dennison came sweeping out of her chamber, leaving a scarcely perceptible perfume in the hall as she passed. She did not observe me, for I sat a little out of range from the door, and she evidently was not conscious that Mr. Lee was looking after her. She caught his glance, however, in turning to go down stairs, paused abruptly, and came back as if she were eager to explain something; but again she stopped short on seeing that I occupied a seat which commanded the balcony, and saying hastily, "Oh, I thought Miss Jessie was here," went down the hall again, evidently discomfited.
Mr. Lee resumed his volume, but there were no signs of reading. He simply looked hard at the page without turning it over, and sat gnawing at his under lip with a kind of ferocity I had never witnessed in him before. I was getting sadly nervous, and felt a painful sensation in my throat; what was all this coming to? What did it mean?
I left the balcony and went up to Mrs. Lee's chamber; here everything was pure and quiet. The invalid lay upon her couch, with a book before her; one slender and almost transparent hand rested upon the opposite page to that which she was reading. It started like a frightened bird as I came in, and she turned her head with one of those heavenly smiles I have never seen equalled. But her face clouded over in an instant. Evidently Martha Hyde was not the person that gentle invalid had hoped to see.
I went up to the couch and sat down on the low seat at its head. She handed me the book with a smile, saying that it made her eyes ache. "Would I read a little till Mr. Lee came up?"
She said this languidly, and there was a strange look about her eyes, as if they had been overtaxed. I received the volume, but fell into thought with it in my hand, forgetting that she was observing me.
"What is the matter?" she said, touching me with her shadowy hand. "Has anything gone wrong? No bad news about our young friend, I hope."
"No," I answered, starting; "I have not heard from him this morning."
"Well, what is it then? You look strangely, as if something had frightened you."
"Do I? No, indeed, nothing has frightened me."
"Perhaps," she said, with a little hesitation, "you are getting anxious about me; these heavy feelings that hang about my head in the morning are a little depressing; I don't really know what to make of them."
I looked at her anxiously; there certainly was a singular expression in her eyes which made me thoughtful. She went on in a soft, dreamy way, as if talking to herself.
"Then I used to sleep so lightly. It was a great affliction,—that state of semi-wakefulness which left everything unreal, but was not sleep, wore me out; now I fall into such profound slumber, but it gives me no more rest than the other state; and I awake with the sensation of a person who has been struggling hard through the night."
"But this may arise from opiates."
"Opiates! Indeed, you know that I never take them, Miss Hyde."
I answered with some surprise that I had accounted for the strange feeling which oppressed her by the idea that it must be something of that kind; but omitted to say that Mrs. Dennison had bewailed to me the habit of taking preparations of opium which Mrs. Lee had fallen into.
The invalid seemed a little hurt by this suggestion, and said over and over again in her sweet way,—
"No, no, my dear. It must be terrible pain which can force me to take these things; and thanks to Him and to all the loving care around me, I do not suffer greatly."
"Still you are changed, dear lady," I said. "How, I cannot explain; but in your face I find that look of struggle which you complain of."
"It is oppressive," she said, putting a hand to her forehead, "and I am afraid makes me but dull company. Mr. Lee is not here quite so much as usual: or is that a sick fancy, Miss Hyde?"
I answered with a tremor in my voice, for her earnest look troubled me, that we all thought quiet better for her, even than the pleasant excitement which his company might bring.
She shook her head, and observed with one of her touching smiles, "that it did not help the flowers to keep back the dew when they thirsted for it."
I had no answer; all my petty evasions against her affectionate entreaties were like straw flung on the surface of a brook; I had no heart to attempt more.
She had fallen into silence, and lay shading her eyes with one hand, when Mr. Lee came in with a heavy, ringing step, and a cloud on his face. His wife started up, and her eyes sparkled as she held out her hand.
"Were you asleep? Have I disturbed you?" he said, abruptly.
"Oh! no, that is impossible, I think; but—but you look troubled. What is it?"
"Troubled? Do I? Nothing of the kind. How fanciful you are, my dear! What should any of us have to do with trouble?"
"Not while we are together," she said, touching the seat I had abandoned with her hand, thus delicately inviting him to her side.
But he strode to the window, and looked out with anxiety. Something was evidently on his mind. Just then I heard voices in the garden. It was Mrs. Dennison calling aloud for Jessie.
"Jessie, Jessie, darling, where have you hidden yourself? Here is some one wishes to see you."
The voice came ringing up clear and distinct; Mr. Lee heard it, and the frown grew lighter upon his forehead. Directly a light step came up the stairs. Mr. Lee turned and looked toward the door. Mrs. Dennison entered the chamber without waiting for her knock to be answered.
"Where is Jessie?" she cried, all cheerfulness and animation; "she is wanted, and I am quite out of breath searching for her in the garden, Mr. Lee. Dear Miss Hyde, pray help me to find her."
Mr. Lee came forward at this challenge, almost smiling.
"Have you been to her room?" he said.
She answered him that she had not, but added something in a low, hurried voice. Guarded as it was, I caught the sense.
"There was a little misunderstanding between them," she said; "he wanted me to mediate, and is waiting for her in the garden."
Mr. Lee listened, and one of the rare smiles I have spoken of beamed over his face. He made a movement as if to go out with the widow; but seeing the anxiety in Mrs. Lee's eyes, I went forward at once, saying, as I hurried by the couple,—
"As you are here to sit with Mrs. Lee, sir, I will look for Jessie."
The smile that crept across Mrs. Dennison's lips was like a reptile feeding on a rose.
"You are very kind," she said. "I had no idea of enlisting Mr. Lee; his duties here are too sacred for that."
I hurried on to escape the sound of Mrs. Dennison's voice, for in any tone it filled me with loathing; but as the door closed after me, that of Lottie's opened, and the imp thrust out her head and emitted a mellow crow, clapping her arms as if they had been wings, thus indicating that for once my conduct had met her full approval.
I could not help laughing; at which she put a finger to her lips, and darted back of the door, closing it softly in the process.
I went up to Jessie's room, but she was not there, nor could she be found in any part of the house. When assured of this, I went into the garden and found Lawrence walking leisurely toward the grove where his horse was tied. He turned as I called him by name, and looked back with an expression of surprise.
"I have been searching for Miss Lee to inform her of your wish to see her," I said; "but she has gone out."
He drew his fine figure up proudly, and said, with a smile that had more of irony than sweetness in it,—
"I beg pardon; but my visit here was to Mrs. Dennison. I was only waiting for her to return with her parasol, as she found the sun rather warm."
I felt myself coloring, but answered the moment I could find voice,—
"Then you did not inquire for Miss Lee?—did not ask Mrs. Dennison to go in search of her?"
"Not that I am aware of," he replied, with the same smile. "I supposed it more than probable that the young lady had gone to visit her sick-lo—friend, over yonder. Heaven forbid that I should disturb an arrangement so full of delicate romance!"
I looked at him steadily. There was more of insult in his tone than these words conveyed. At first I was prompted to explain and defend: but wherefore? If he could distrust a creature like our Jessie, any attempt at exculpation appeared to me like a sacrifice of dignity, so I turned away in silence. He followed me a few paces, as if wishing to continue the conversation; but I hurried on, burning with indignation. Why had those abominable people entered our pleasant homes? Why did they remain there, making us all miserable? Oh! how I wished for authority to send them away together; for in my resentment, I, perhaps unjustly, coupled the gentleman with the lady, and forgot that he was her dupe rather than associate.
When Lawrence was yet almost on a level with me, the widow came out from the tower, looking flurried and anxious. She saw me apparently in conversation with her friend, and turned crimson to the temples; but adroitly dropping the open parasol over her face, she came slowly on, concealing the agitation but too visible a moment before. Without heeding me in the least, she sauntered up to Lawrence, drooping her parasol almost in my face, and said with careless insolence,—
"Now, my good friend, with Miss Hyde's permission, we will go on with the history of that little affair."
So she swept him off, somewhat bewildered, I fancy, and I went into the house, detesting her more than ever.
Before entering Mrs. Lee's room, I opened the door of Lottie's little apartment, intending to inquire if Mr. Lee had gone out. The young girl was seated at a small gilded table, which had been broken in the drawing-room and mended by her deft hands, after which, of course, it became her property; an open letter lay on the table, and she was busy writing. When I opened the door, she started up, snatched at the letter and held it behind her, looking at me with a comical sort of defiance.
"Miss Hyde," said she, "if you'll just tell me what's wanting, I'll come out; but this room isn't large enough for two—no, not if its owner had a twin sister wandering about in want of a bed to sleep in."
"Excuse me, Lottie, but I only want to know if Mrs. Lee is left alone."
"No, Miss Hyde, that thing don't happen while I am on hand. Mr. Lee's in there, and that angel of a woman is talking to him with tears in her throat, if they haven't got up to her eyes yet. I can hear the sound without listening, and I hope it will do him good, that's all!"
I turned to go away, but she followed me to the door, still with one hand behind her, in which I could hear paper rustling.
"Miss Hyde, I can't help but say, if it does puff you up, that are dodge of yours was a crowner; I heard it and all Babylon said: my! isn't she a thing or so? For once you were too smart for her. Didn't her face blaze up when she saw you walking with that chap? I couldn't 'a' done it better myself. Now, mind I say that to encourage you, not to lift you on a high horse; so don't make a bad use of kindness."
"You are very kind, and I try not to be spoiled, Lottie."
"I'm your friend out and out, and the friend of this family, if ever there was one. Never fear about that; but this thing is getting beyond me and destroying my usefulness. I wish you wouldn't give me no more lectures about listening and finding out things. True enough, I don't pay no regard to such ridiculous notions; but then just as a creature gets nestled down under a bush, or fits her ear to a keyhole, comes the thought, 'Now Miss Hyde would call this mean,' and it drags your attention away from what's going on and takes all the relish out of it. I don't like it, Miss Hyde; such peaked notions do well enough for an old maid; but I ain't a going to be that, if there is a man cute enough to match me in all creation."
"Well, Lottie," I said, almost laughing, "as my preaching only annoys you, it is hardly worth while to repeat it."
"That's a good soul!" answered Lottie, with benign condescension. "You hoe your row and I'll hoe mine, we shall come out together at the end of the lot, never fear."
The next morning, when our man brought the letters from town, I noticed Mrs. Dennison examining one which she took from among those left on the hall-table, with the keen look of a person whose suspicion has been aroused. In tearing it open, she examined the adhesive edge a second time, and apparently found it all right, for her face cleared up, and she put the letter in her pocket without reading it. Still she could not have been quite satisfied, for after that no letters of hers were ever left with those of the family to be mailed.
That day I resolved to go and see young Bosworth. I had no lover to get jealous or find fault with this; indeed, it was doubtful if any one cared enough about my movements to observe them when disconnected from the family.
I had no heart to enjoy the walk; it was a cold, raw day, with gloomy clouds floating along the sky, and gloomier shadows sweeping the earth. The dampness of a night succeeded by no sunshine lay upon the meadows; spiders' webs were stretched across my path; and a rain of moisture fell from the hazel-bushes as my garments brushed them in walking. Still, it was not absolutely stormy, and the gray shadows harmonized with my feelings so completely, that I had no wish to change them. Nothing could be more gloomy than my own heart.
When I reached the house, old Mrs. Bosworth came to the door herself. She seemed a good deal disturbed, and I fancied, from the heaviness of her eyes, that she had been crying.
"Come in, Miss Hyde," she said, taking my hand. "He is not so well this morning. Indeed, indeed he is much worse. A letter came here last night, and I was foolish enough to let it go to him. One of your people brought it, and I fancied, perhaps, that it might do him good, for it was a lady's handwriting, and she was so kind that morning."
"You thought it was from our Jessie," I answered, in the first impulse of my surprise.
"Yes, it was a foolish thought, I dare say,—but that was my idea."
"And have you learned whom it did come from?"
"No," answered the noble old lady. "He fainted, and it fell from his hand; but I laid it under his pillow without even looking at it; it might have wounded him, you know."
"And is he so much worse?"
"Oh, Miss Hyde, the fever has come back; he is wild again."
"And had you no way of guessing the cause?"
"I think it was something about Mr. Lawrence, for he called for him till the house rang with his cries, after the first dumb shock went off."
"Did Mr. Lawrence know of this?"
"He was away at the time; and after that your young friend's name was so wildly mingled up with it all, that I could not think it right to bring Mr. Lawrence to the room. It would have seemed like challenging his compassion."
My heart ached, for I saw that her penetration had discovered Jessie's secret, and that she was protecting it with much delicacy.
"Besides, he is our guest," she said, prompted by that old-fashioned feeling of honor which rendered the shelter of a friend's roof a sanctuary, "and he might have construed my grandson's words into a reproach; altogether, we thought it best to keep them apart."
There was a mystery about all this that baffled me. Who could have written that letter brought by one of Mr. Lee's servants? Not Jessie, I was sure of that, for she never could have taken a step of so much importance thus privately. Besides, save for the brief time of Lawrence's visit that day, when, wounded and heart-sick, she left the house, and wandered off into the thickest of the woods, she had not been absent from her mother's room scarcely a moment. Mrs. Dennison had seen her passing through the outskirt of the woods, or she would never have ventured to call for her so loudly.
All this I knew, but it was unnecessary; a thorough understanding of Jessie's character rendered conjectures regarding her part in this matter quite superfluous. But who had written the letter? and what was its import? Of course, my suspicions fell on that woman; but what was her object? Surely she was not anxious to ensnare this young man also—her vanity could not be so insatiable as that.
Perhaps it was Mr. Lee; his handwriting was exquisitely clear and delicate as a woman's; what if his displeasure against our visit had been expressed here? But no, Mr. Lee was not a man to rudely force his anger into a sick-room.
Again my thoughts fell back on the widow; what unprincipled work was she doing here? What benefit could she find in sowing discord upon that poor young man's pillow?
Of course, one thinks rapidly, and all these broken ideas took but little time in flashing through my brain. The old lady stood with one hand on the back of her easy-chair, observing me with a troubled look.
"You think the letter was not from your young friend?" she said, reading my thoughts with that subtile magnetism which is a part of true womanliness.
"I am sure it was not, dear lady!"
"Nor from her father?"
"Not if it gave him pain; Mr. Lee is incapable of that."
The old lady drew a deep breath, as if infinitely relieved, and sat down, spreading out her ample skirts mechanically after her usual dainty habit.
"Miss Hyde," she said, with a little tremor of the voice, and a movement of the hands, which fell into her lap and clasped themselves nervously, "Miss Hyde, I am sure you are my poor boy's friend!"
"I am indeed!" was my earnest response.
"And you know—"
"Yes, dear madam, all that an affectionate heart can learn by its own observation."
"I have thought, perhaps," said the dear old lady, coloring as she spoke, "that Mr. Lee, with his enormous wealth, might have considered the modest property of my grandson insufficient, and for this reason have influenced his daughter."
I had nothing to answer. If Mr. Lee knew of this unhappy attachment, he had given no sign; but I told her that his general character was opposed to anything so mercenary.
"If this were so," answered the old lady, growing more anxious, "I think it would be easily remedied. My grandson, it is true, has little more than a handsome independence; but I, Miss Hyde, am perhaps richer than our neighbors think. In fact," she added, blushing, as if there were something to be ashamed of in the confession, "my income, if I chose to use it, would not compare meanly with that of Mr. Lee. When one spends but little, with tolerably fair possessions, property accumulates rapidly at the end of a long life. I had intended to endow charities, perhaps; but the sight of my boy up yonder has changed all this."
I could only say, "You are very liberal, madam;" for I felt sure that the trouble did not lie where she supposed.
"If you could in any way make this understood, Miss Hyde, without bringing it prominently forward, I should be so grateful. I called you in here for this purpose. You have been so kind, so truly good to us."
"Oh, no, no," I protested.
"So delicate," she persisted; "and now when his life is in such fearful peril, I am forced to take liberties—forced to think if anything can be done to save him, forced to beg for help."
"Oh, if I could help you!" I exclaimed, feeling the tears rush to my eyes.
"You have, you can; already we are greatly indebted to your kindness. I am not eloquent to express thanks, sometimes feeling that silence is most delicate; but I feel all this, Miss Hyde, and so did he, my poor boy!"
Again I expressed the happiness it would give me to help her or him.
"I am an old woman," she continued; "very old, and require so little that property has become burdensome. If—if this thing can be arranged, all that I have, every cent, shall go to him; not after my death, but now, while I can see them enjoy it. They will remember my habits, and my little wants, I am sure; and it will be very pleasant to have young voices around me again. Will you take an opportunity to suggest this to Mr. Lee?—not the young lady—my grandson must owe everything to himself there; but with a parent these are important considerations, sometimes."
I could not see her face, for tears half blinded me. The feeling which could induce this fine old woman to give up all the appliances of her pride, all the power of her life, in order to purchase happiness for her grandson, was one of those noble outgushes of human nature that always make me weep. I could have kissed the hem of her garments, and felt ennobled by the act. It was no little thing to uproot the fixed habits of almost a century. With all that love of property which grows strong in age, from a sentiment of generosity another might have thought of piding, but she was ready to give up all.
I had no heart to discourage her. Warmly and truly as my wishes went with hers, I would not uproot all hope in my own mind. Time, I whispered to myself, has many changes, and so has the human heart. So I took the old lady's hand in mine and kissed it with affectionate reverence. She smiled upon me in her benign way, and called me "her dear young friend, her fair, sweet friend."
Oh! I am getting to be a forlorn creature, or these words would never have swelled my heart with such throbs of gratitude. Have I indeed anything lovable or attractive about me which the old lady's deeper penetration has discovered, or is it only because I have been a little kind to her grandson? I wish it were possible to know about this, for since Mrs. Dennison has been at our house, I have begun to doubt and fear about myself in a way that never possessed me before. Her overpowering elegance has put down all my little quiet claims to notice so completely, that it seems as if I never should lift up my head again. No wonder I cried and kissed that soft hand like a child. People don't think how much we require praise and petting, at all stages of existence, or how much of childhood runs from the cradle to the grave in every human life.
It was very foolish and romantic, but without at all knowing it, I had fallen on my knees by the old lady; and when she saw my eyes so full of tears, she smoothed my hair, and called me a good girl. With this I laid my head on her lap, and begged her to let me love her always, telling her that sometimes I was lonely for the want of a right to love anything. Then I grew ashamed and stood up, blushing through the tears that had betrayed me into such weakness, but her gracious look reassured me.
After this the younger Mrs. Bosworth came into the parlor, her eyes red with weeping, and looking weaker and more in affliction than ever. She had done everything, she said, dropping helplessly into a chair, and nothing would pacify him. There he was, trying to read over a letter that he kept hid away under the pillow, that shook and shook in his hands till the whole room was full of its rustling, and it made her so nervous she was afraid to stay alone with him—muttering, muttering as if he were angry with her, that had been a good mother to him all his days; no one could say to the contrary of that, she was sure.
Another woman of a character so much above the level of that poor mother's, might have become impatient; but the old lady listened to her with great sympathy, excused her futile grief by half implied apologies, and finally succeeded in persuading her to lie down on the sofa, while we went up-stairs and watched by her son.
The young man was indeed very ill, entirely out of his head, and talking angrily to himself. The letter which Mrs. Bosworth had mentioned was crushed in his hand, and he was rolling it into a round ball between his two palms. While I stood looking upon him, thus troubled by some unseen enemy, and flung back upon a sick-bed, it seemed impossible that any one could be cruel enough for such work, unless the heart of a fiend had somewhere taken human form.
I would have stayed in the sick-room longer, for my poor talent for nursing was never more required, but the old lady seemed anxious to send me home. Having done her utmost to relieve the unhappy situation of our patient, she was restless till her object was put in some state of forwardness; so I went away, leaving her rather hopeful, but very desponding myself.
As I went home, the clouds that had been broken and scattered were gathered into vast tent-like masses, and a slow rain began to fall, which gradually wet me through. I did not heed it; nothing could be gloomier than my feelings. It seemed to me as if I were going to a house of strangers, so completely had the machinations of that woman shut me out from my old place in the family. So I let it rain on, without a wish to escape the discomfort.
When I was nearly across the fields, I saw a figure approaching through the gray mists, and would gladly have avoided it by turning into the woods; but a voice called me by name, and I stopped at once. It was Jessie, who had come out into the storm to meet me. Lawrence had called at the house and informed the family of young Bosworth's relapse.
"He is there now, I suppose," she said, excitedly; "but I came away, guessing where you had gone. I cannot breathe in the house when they are together, and he lying so ill and helpless."
I looked up at these words. The storm was beating in her face, but her cheeks were like fire underneath. It might have been all rain that flashed down the burning surface; but I thought not, for there were suppressed sobs in her voice when she spoke.
"Is—is your father at home?" I inquired, hesitating in my speech, I cannot tell wherefore.
"No; he rode over to town before the storm came on. They have the house to themselves."
She spoke bitterly. In truth, I scarcely recognized my own sweet Jessie with those wet garments clinging around her, and that excited face. We walked on in silence, for she turned to retrace her steps. At last she said, abruptly:
"How is he, Aunt Matty? Does he suffer?"
"Greatly, I think, Jessie."
"No wonder he is ill," she said, passionately. "It is enough to break down anything human."
"I am glad you can feel for him, Jessie."
"Feel for him! Who can help it? But who feels for—for—"
She broke off abruptly, turning pale and cold.
I walked on, distressed by this broken confidence, but knew well that Jessie was too proud for anything more definite.
As we came into the field bordered by the carriage sweep, a horseman dashed up to the gate, which had been left open, and was passing at a swift gallop toward the house. It was Mr. Lee returning from town, and riding fast to escape the rain. He saw us dragging our way through the grass, and drew up, regarding our condition with a look so stern that it chilled me.
"He is angry with me for going out, I suppose," said Jessie, drearily. "Well, I could not help it."
After regarding us for a full minute with that hard look, Mr. Lee rode on, his horse tramping heavier than before, and sending back broken flakes of mud, as if casting it purposely against us. He rode directly to the stables. Jessie and I slunk into the house by the back entrance like culprits.
I kept my chamber that day, striving to make up my mind about what course was best for me to pursue. My life at Mr. Lee's had become so harassing, that it was absolutely burdensome. I did not know friends from enemies in that house, for every being in it seemed changed. I sat down alone and wept in bitter grief. Should I go away and leave the ill-contested field to that woman, who was surely working out some great evil to the whole family? I was not dependent. Considerable property was vested in my favor, but it was in Mr. Lee's hands; and so generously had he provided for every possible want, that even the income remained untouched.
I had ability, and could have earned my bread anywhere, either as a governess or a teacher, had that been necessary. Thus, personal considerations could not have bowed down my spirits to the state of depression that fell upon me. Something deeper lay at my heart. Was it love for Jessie? was it fear that the poor girl would be left without defence, to the machinations of that cruel woman? I cannot tell. If other and more selfish feelings existed in my bosom, I did not know it. Indeed, so absorbed were all my faculties in the difficulties that thickened around us, that I had no time for self-examination. Dear, dear Jessie! how could I help her? That was the burden of my thoughts.
The thorough drenching which I had received made me hoarse and really ill. In my anxiety, I had neglected to change my clothes; but the cold shudders that crept over me aroused my attention to the danger, and, changing my damp garments, I lay down, striving to get warm.
I have a vague recollection that the sun broke out, and came flashing through the leaves into my chamber. Then I heard voices in the garden beneath, which chilled me worse than the cold.
Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison were conversing together on the terrace, where camp-stools and garden-chairs were always standing. I could have heard everything; the temptation was great, but I put it away, burying my head in my pillow, and drowning their voices with my sobs.
Toward night Jessie came to my room. She was sad and disheartened; Mr. Lee had not spoken to her since our return; and even her mother was vexed that she should have exposed herself to the storm.
I inquired if Mr. Lawrence was at the house when her father returned. Jessie thought not, but could not say positively; only he seldom was there, except in her father's absence.
She said this abruptly, and turned the conversation; the very name of Lawrence seemed to distress her.
"Aunt Matty," she said, after a dreary silence, "will this widow never leave our house? Shall we remain in this state till it brings ruin on us all? Mother seems fading away, and no one appears to care. You look years older; and as for me—"
"Well, Jessie?"
"No matter about me; but something must be done. So long as it was myself only, I made an effort to bear it; but we are all changed, all unhappy—dear, sweet mamma, and even Lottie. There is poison in the very atmosphere, I think."
"Let us have patience, Jessie; this cannot last much longer; but while Mrs. Dennison remains here, do not forget that she is your mother's guest."
"But how long—how long, I say, will this last? My father is getting more distant and estranged every hour. I feel like an alien under his roof—a stranger to my very self."
She was greatly excited, and wrung her hands with passionate vehemence. The proud reticence of her character was all swept away; she fell upon her knees by the bed on which I lay, and sobbed aloud. I am sure this would not have happened with any one else; but I had become almost a second self to the dear girl, and she was not ashamed to give way to her grief in my presence.
While she was on her knees, Lottie opened my chamber-door and looked in. Seeing Miss Jessie, she drew back, placed a finger on her lips, and performed a series of pantomime that would have been exceedingly ludicrous but for the anxiety that beset me. As it was, I saw that she had something to communicate, but was afraid to ask her in while Jessie was so disturbed.
She saw this, and darting a finger backward over her shoulder and forward at me, as if it had been a weapon, retreated, making up faces that grew more ludicrous with every step.
Jessie had seen nothing of this. She arose, after a little, and went out, sighing heavily.
Directly after she was gone, Lottie came back, and, closing the door, bolted it inside and stole up to my bed on tiptoe. She looked pale and frightened, but her eyes shone through the shadows that had suddenly settled around them, and she moved like a hound doubling on its prey.
"Miss Hyde," she said, "just listen while you have time; that red Babylon has gone and done it. I've had my hands full all day scooting about among the wet bushes, and holding my breath behind window-shutters. Now, would you believe it? I've been two hull hours squinched up in that big rosewood book-case with the green silk lining; for them new painted winders in the tower library are the most aggravating things to one as wants to keep her eyes open. Thanks be to goodness! the new books haven't arrived, and I should have had lots of room if human beings had been built flat. As it was, I got along by holding in my breath and bowing the doors a trifle."
"But what did you go into the book-case for, Lottie?" I inquired, anxious to bring her to some point in her communication.
"What did I go into the book-case for? Why, only to hear what was going on in that room, to be sure. Wasn't that Mr. Lawrence and Mrs. Babylon there, sitting on the sofa together two hull hours?"
"And you listened to the conversation?"
"In course I did."
She seemed waiting for me to ask more questions, but I could not force myself thus indirectly to partake in a dishonorable act.
"You won't ask what they said, and yet are a-dying to know, any fool can see that. Well, thanks be to goodness! I ain't a lady, and if I was, for her sake I'd do worse things than that; my ears were made to hear with, and I ain't going to fight agin nature."
"But you came to see me for something, Lottie?"
"Certainly I did. But how is one to tell things without talking right out? Well, if you won't ask what I heard in the book-case, I must tell you promiscuous. This she-sarpent has about done up your business for you, as she means to for me and the rest of 'em before long."
"Done my business for me, Lottie! What does that mean? I do not understand."
"Likely enough; but I'll tell you; Babylon is in love with Mr. Lawrence."
"I wish from my heart he'd marry her," I thought.
"But she won't have him," said Lottie, as if answering my thought. "At any rate, not yet."
"Well, well, Lottie, tell me what brings you here? My head aches."
"So does mine," said Lottie, lifting a hand to her head, and pressing her forehead hard with the palm. "Well, Miss Hyde, a little while ago, Mr. Lee and Mrs. Babylon were sitting on the platform under this very window. It was just after the rain, and they happened to meet as he was coming out to enjoy the sunshine. I happened in the same way to be dusting the sofa close by the window, and it took me a good while. Don't put up your hand, Miss Hyde, you'd 'a' listened yourself. She was talking about you."
"About me?"
"Yes. I can't give the words; but she was saying, in her silky way, that Miss Jessie was so much altered since she met her at the sea-shore, so obstinate and demonstrative, vulgarized, as one might say, if anything so very beautiful could be vulgarized. But didn't Mr. Lee think that a companion who followed her pupil into society was rather a drawback, and apt to get a predominating influence over that of the parents? Was he certain of Miss Jessie's friend,—of her prudence and disinterestedness? Of course, she had no right to give an opinion: but when the time came for a young lady to enter society, was there no reason to think that a household companion, like Miss Hyde, might become a dangerous counsellor? Of course, Mr. Lee knew best, his wisdom was never at fault; but would not a companion, perfectly dependent, and who had some experience in society, produce a better result?
"I wish you could 'a' seen Mr. Lee's face, Miss Hyde. He looked up all of a sudden, and his eyes flashed fire; Babylon saw it, and looked down as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; and then he took her hand in his,—it wasn't the first time, Miss Hyde, I'd bet my head on that, for it all came too easy—and I've seen what I have seen;—then he said how difficult it was to find such a person,—one who was an ornament to society, and yet willing to live in a place like that which Mrs. Lee's illness made, in some sort, like a prison.
"She left her hand in his, and lifted her eyes to his face sideways—you know how—and said a few words almost in a whisper. I couldn't catch the first word, but he turned red as fire and lifted her hand to his lips, almost; then he dropped it again and begged her pardon."
I had no power to stop Lottie's narrative. The import of this conversation struck me with a sudden pang. It seemed as if sentence of death had been pronounced upon me. What could I do? Where on earth was a home like that to be found? What would Jessie and Mrs. Lee do without me? That woman in my place! The thought was anguish. I almost hated her.
Lottie stood by the bed, looking at me, with trouble in her face.
"I knew that it would be a blow; but this is worse than I expected," she said. "How white you are—how your lips quiver! But don't take on so. Let them try it; let Babylon do her worst—she'll find her match. I've learned a thing or two, since she came, that I didn't know before,—especially how to droop your eyelids and look meek, then open 'em quick and flash out fire. It's taking, I've tried it with—with—"
"With whom, Lottie?"
"With—but no matter; when the birds sing, chickens have a right to peep. Babylon isn't the only person who can turn a feller's head, and good looks is according to one's taste. Then there's a difference in flirting, when the object is a good one; don't you think so, Miss Hyde?"
"I don't know, Lottie," was my dreary answer; "you must ask about these matters of some one who has had more experience."
"Oh! I don't care about asking; it all comes natural enough after the first lesson. But you won't let them drive you away—it would break her heart, I know it would."
Lottie's eyes were full of tears. Poor girl! she had a good heart.
This sympathy touched me deeply. I was so desolate and felt so wronged, that a kind word filled me with gratitude, even from Lottie.
"Oh! ma'am, don't mind it! Babylon sha'n't hurt you while I can help it. Only be firm, and don't go off in a fit of pride. Stand your ground to the last, and when the worst comes to the worst, depend on me."
The girl took my hand and kissed it; then, kneeling down by the bed, laid her face close to mine.
"Miss Hyde—"
"Well, my good girl."
"I have something to say, something that worries me dreadfully; are you listening?"
"Yes, child."
"It is about mistress. Don't you see how dreadfully thin she is getting? You can almost look through her hand."
"Yes, Lottie, it makes my heart ache to think of it. Have you any idea of the cause?"
"He don't visit her much now."
"You have noticed it, you—"
"I count the minutes every day."
"This might vex her, but not to the extent that seems so visible."
"No, there is something else. I cannot understand it; but wait awhile, Miss Hyde, I'm on hand."
I hardly heard this. The idea that my presence in that house had become a burden, that I might be at any moment desired to leave my place in the family for that woman to fill, absorbed my faculties, and in the selfishness of my distress, I gave less heed than the subject claimed to what the girl was saying.
She saw this, I suppose; for, with renewed entreaties that I should hold firmly to my position and trust to her for the rest, she crept from the room, almost crying.
About an hour after this I arose, bathed my forehead, and went into Mrs. Lee's chamber, for the pain of my solitary thoughts became unendurable. The poor lady was lying on the sofa, with her eyes closed, looking more wan than ever. Something troubled her, I am sure; for tears were swelling under the transparent whiteness of her eyelids, and her hands were clasped over her bosom. This was an attitude habitual to her when disturbed by any grief, and seeing it, I turned to go away; but she heard my footstep and opened her eyes. There was something in her manner that went to my heart—a sort of mournful constraint, as if she shrunk from my presence. Still she held forth her hand.
I sat down in my old place, and she closed her eyes again, as if any effort at speech was beyond her strength. In the broader light which fell upon her face, I saw that she had been crying—an unusual thing with her at any time; for all sources of trouble had been kept so sedulously from that room, that grief amounting to tears seldom found its way there.
After a prolonged silence that chilled me to the heart, she laid her hand on mine, and I saw that her earnest eyes were searching my face.
"Dear Miss Hyde, we have been so happy together—I thought no family was ever united like ours!"
I understood the pathos in her voice, the meaning of her words. Mr. Lee had begun the subject; already they were about to prove how troublesome and useless I had been—how much my place was wanted for another.
"You do not speak," she said, "surely, nothing has been said to wound you?"
"No," I answered, "I only come to see if you were in want of anything."
"Ah! you have always been so attentive, so kind! How shall I get along without you?"
So it was decided. He had spoken, and they had settled my destiny; the gentle invalid yielding without a murmur while her best friend was driven from under her roof. I had no heart to continue the conversation, and she, poor lady! evidently lacked the courage to speak plainer. Thus, with apprehensions and grief, we remained together in silence. Her eyes were closed, but not with sleep, I am sure of that; and I felt a dead heaviness creeping over me, which carried with it a dreary sense of pain.
It was getting dark when I left the chamber. The depression was so heavy upon me that I went down to the kitchen, thinking to ask the cook for a cup of warm tea. Lottie was there busy at the range, and, singular enough, making tea, as if my wants had been pined.
"A handful, cook," she said, holding out the silver teapot for a renewed supply. "I want it good and strong, something that will make one's eyes snap."
When the cook turned to put her canister in its place, Lottie went to the closet and brought out two cups and saucers.
"Miss Hyde," she said, "you have just come in time. I knew it'd be wanted: try a good, strong cup, it will have the ache out of your head in no time."
I thanked her and took the cup she offered. It was strong to bitterness, and I did not like the taste; but when I passed it back, Lottie put in more sugar and cream, but no water. I was too weary for protest, and drank the bitterness without further comment.
Lottie seemed pleased, and insisted earnestly that I should take a second cup, filling her own for the third time, and draining it with what I thought must be heroism instead of desire.
"There," she said, setting her cup down, "that will do, I reckon; it makes my head as light as a cork. How do you feel, Miss Hyde?"
"It is very, very strong, Lottie, and I fear it will keep me awake all night."
"Fear!" cried the girl, "fear! Why, of course it will! To tell you the truth," she added, bending toward me, and whispering, "I begin to think this isn't the house where one can sleep honestly. Now just go up to your room, if you please, and don't let them see you looking so miserable. There's trouble enough without that."
The cook came toward us before I could answer. She was preparing to send up tea for the family, and muttered something about ladies always being in the way in a kitchen. So great was the depression of my spirits, that I allowed this to wound me, and went away in deeper dejection.
No human soul came near me during the evening. I could not sleep—the stimulus urged my brain into swift action. I reviewed all the difficulties of my position over and over again; strange projects came into my mind, ways by which my wrongs—for I had been wronged—should be redressed; speeches more eloquent than ever could reach my lips inspired me, and these were to be addressed to Mr. Lee, in the presence of that woman. A thousand wild fancies seized upon my brain and held it. I had no wish to change my position. Having thrown myself on the bed in my clothes, I remained there, thinking, thinking, thinking till my brain ached, but would not pause for rest—a terrible inspiration was upon me.
I heard a bustle in the house, as if the family were retiring; then the clock struck eleven, twelve, one. The hours did not seem long, but the stillness almost terrified me. All at once, it was after midnight some time, a sound approached my chamber like the rush of a bird through the air. I started up and listened. The door opened softly, and a figure glided in.
"Miss Hyde, are you awake? Get up this minute and come with me; if your shoes are on, take them off. Come."
I sprang up and followed Lottie swiftly and silently as she had reached my chamber. She drew me through the passage into her own little room. As I passed along the hall which led from the main building to the tower, it seemed to me that my dress brushed against some one crouching in a dark corner; but Lottie had not seen it, and I followed her, holding my breath. She glided through her own room into the chamber where Mrs. Lee slept. The carpets were thick as wood-moss, and our feet gave no sound. When she was fairly in the room, Lottie paused, and I heard a slight, scraping noise; then the sudden flash of a match was followed by the blaze of a candle which the girl carried in her hand.
As the light broke up, a faint cry came from the bed; a figure which bent over it rose up suddenly, and I stood face to face with Mrs. Dennison, the whitest woman that ever my eyes dwelt upon. She held a crystal toilet-bottle in one hand, and in the other a wet pocket-handkerchief.
"Stand by the door, Miss Hyde. Don't let her move a foot. I'll be back in a flash."
Lottie darted from the room as she spoke, leaving the candlestick on the carpet.
The woman turned upon me then with the spirit of a tigress. Her eyes flashed fire, the white teeth shone through her curved lips. She attempted to pass me, but I retreated to the door and kept the threshold. She came forward as if to force me away, still holding the bottle and handkerchief in her hands. Never in my life had I seen a face so beautiful and so fiendish. There was desperation in her eyes, violence in her action; but though weaker and smaller than her, I would have died on the threshold of that door rather than have allowed her to cross it.
All at once her face changed. She was looking, not at me, but over my shoulder; a flash of quick intelligence shot from her eyes, and the next moment she had thrown both arms about my neck and pressed my face to her bosom. I knew that some one came close up behind me, and heard the clink of glass; then a rush of feet through Lottie's room, and along the passage. All this could not have lasted a minute. I struggled from the woman's embrace, and pushed her from me with a violence that made her stagger. Her face had changed to its old look of triumph. She laughed, not naturally—that was beyond even her powers of self-command—but in a way that made me shiver.
"Dear Miss Hyde, is it you?" she said, in a voice that quaked in spite of herself. "How terribly frightened I was! Poor Mrs. Lee must have been very ill. I heard her moaning and calling for help in my room, and came at once; she seems quite insensible now."
I looked toward the bed. Mrs. Lee lay upon it, white, and still as a corpse, her eyes closed, and her lips of a bluish white. Was she dead? Had the woman killed her? A strong, pungent smell filled the room—a smell of chloroform. It was almost suffocating.
Mrs. Dennison seemed to think of this suddenly, and, darting toward the window, flung open two of the sashes before I knew what she was about. A gush of fresh air swept through the room; the pungent odor grew fainter and fainter, at which she smiled on me triumphantly.
I looked at her, as she stood in the light; a toilet-bottle was still in her hand, but it was of crimson glass, spotted with gold; that which she held, when I came in, was white and pure as water. How had she managed to change the crystal flask? What had become of the handkerchief?
Still smiling on me, she approached the bed and scattered fragrant drops from the crimson flask over the pillows and the deathly face of my poor friend. How still she lay! The whiteness of her face was terrible, but I dared not approach her; my post was by the door till Lottie came; but it made my blood run cold to see that woman bending over her, smoothing the pillows with her hand, and filling the room with that lying fragrance.