“She loves, but knows not whom she loves.”
—Moore.
Mrs. Taine was busy during the afternoon preparing to receive her
favorite guest. Having attended personally to the arrangement of the
room destined for him, she put on her best silk dress, which she rarely
wore, and pinked her cheeks with vermilion, an art she practiced only
upon the most ceremonious occasions. Her crinoline, in accord with the
prevailing fashion, was enormous; and her hair was puffed up by combs
under a lace cap letting little thin corkscrew curls dance out just in
front of her ears. The gold-rimmed spectacles had undergone a special
polishing, and, on reference to her looking-glass, she flattered herself
that the Rev. Mr. Smiles would find her, despite the disadvantages of
her surroundings (which, she thought, he had fully understood), entirely
up to the standard of New England ladies of her age and mode of life.
“He can appreciate a woman of intellect,” she said to herself as she
smoothed down her post-meridian visage before the mirror, “which is a
thing these western men are incapable of. And, besides, he is so
orthodox—no walking museum of new fangled notions! He said he would like
to make some selections from my writings to use in his missionary
sermons, and I will give him free access to all my manuscripts. He said
also that my thoughts were so noble, and so beautifully expressed.
Perhaps we might even compose a great theological work conjointly. I’ll
mention it to him—” Thus her thoughts coursed on in a kind of ecstacy
until she saw Hagar pass the window. A new prospect of almost endless
possibilities was suddenly opened up in her mind. She had long wished to
rid herself of Hagar, and it now recurred to her that Mr. Smiles had
paid the girl great attention on the occasion of his former visit. She
thought the matter over in all its bearings, for she prided herself on
always being consistent, and wanted to make this scheme meet that
requirement. Hagar never discussed theological questions, but Mrs. Taine
had little doubt that she was orthodox at heart, believing she could not
understand the rubbish taught by her adoptive father. If she were to let
Hagar see that she wished her to accept the minister’s attentions she
would be sure to shun him like a viper. Her plan, therefore, she
thought, was to seem to oppose, while doing all she could to promote,
the frequent meeting of Hagar with the young parson. Such a handsome and
polished gentleman, with his flowery language and delightful manners,
she argued, could not fail to impress the girl; and, in case of his
being obliged to defer the marriage on account of his slender bank
account, for, poor fellow! had he not given up his precious time and
talents to the cause of his religion, how simple a matter it would be
for her to make him comfortable on that score. And that she would do,
because it would place him in the position of a brother and a friend who
would be her comforter and adviser.
While cogitating these and a hundred other phases of her project she
went into the sitting room, where she found Hagar arranging some
flowers.
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Taine, “that you remember the Rev. Mr. Smiles
from Boston, who came here last spring?”
“Yes,” replied Hagar briefly, without looking away from her occupation.
“I thought so; girls now-a-days can remember a man better than anything
else. Well, what would you think if I told you he is coming here again,
very soon?”
“I do not know—but is it so?” asked Hagar, glancing towards her.
“Yes; and as he is a bachelor not more than thirty it will become you to
be very retiring in his presence, and study modesty to the best of your
ability.”
“I should be sorry if I had to study that, Ma’am Taine,” she rejoined
curtly.
“Don’t bandy words, but try to improve yourself by learning from your
superiors. It would be useless for you to think of marrying him. He is
too far above you in intellect, in tastes, and, hem! hem! (clearing her
throat), family.”
Hagar was blushing but strove to conceal her annoyance. This was one of
Ma’am Taine’s favorite resorts when she wished to be spiteful, and she
employed it, as at present, with malice aforethought.
“It is in all cases,” she continued, “best not to encourage hopes that
are doomed beforehand to be blighted. You must be discretion’s self or
you may be called a coquette with even more reason than heretofore. I am
aware, let me inform you, that you have been talking again with that
infidel rascal Will Sanders.”
“Ma’am Taine, you know he is not a rascal—and you know also that I have
Father Taine’s permission to speak to him, and to see him whenever I
please. Since you have made it impossible for him to come to the house I
am going to meet him again to-day at the front gate to say good bye, for
he has enlisted and is going away perhaps to die for his country.”
“You shall not see him, I say. But if you disobey me I will bundle you
into the street and let your infidel look after you,” said Mrs. Taine in
her harshest voice.
“No you won’t, Ma’am Taine!” exclaimed Hagar so quickly that she made
Mrs. Taine start. “Had I paid any attention to your abuse I should have
gone long ago, when, as a little helpless thing, you used to lock me up
without food for a day or more at a time. Had I not been determined to
stay in spite of you, I should have been driven away by your cruelty.
But I have stifled my own feelings, my pride and my indignation, for the
sake of that dear old man whose life you have filled with bitterness.”
Hagar’s spirit was now fully aroused, and her courage was evidently
fortified by the reflection that James was in the house. Though Mrs.
Taine endeavored to check this speech at every word, she would not be
silenced. And now the angry old lady was almost choking with rage, which
she vented in abusive epithets. Hagar put her fingers in her ears and
fled to her room, and Ma’am Taine had recourse to a mild fit of
hysteria.
“I’ll be revenged on that audacious foundling!” she said, as she
recovered herself. “I have enough to tell old Universality now to open
his eyes!” She would inform Dr. Taine of the strange man at the gate on
Sunday—the secret conversations with Will Sanders, and other real or
imaginary faults which she thought would serve to prejudice him against
his favorite and bring about a crisis that would rid her house of this
fury. This she vowed to do by all her theological tracts.
Towards evening Hagar threw a woolen “Nubia” over her head and walked
leisurely down the avenue to the gates, where she found Will Sanders
sitting on his horse waiting for her. He dismounted to shake hands, and
enquired kindly about James Taine.
“So, Will, you are going to the war?” Said Hagar, cheerfully, as if to
intimate that their parting must not be a gloomy one.
“Yes, Hagar,” replied the young man, in a far more serious tone, “our
regiment has been drilling for some time, and we are now ordered to the
front. But I felt that I could not go without telling you what you
already know—that I love you. Will you not give me one word of hope? it
would sustain and cheer me, Hagar, through all the dangers and
privations I may be required to encounter. Do you not love me enough to
give me this hope?” He must have seen her answer in her eyes, for his
tone was really pathetic.
“You know, Will, that I esteem you highly; and I will confess that I
have thought I would marry you if you asked me; but now I cannot make
you any promise,” said Hagar, her eyes bent on the ground.
“You mean that you do not love me—you have seen some one who—”
“No, it is not that,” she replied quietly, “I am nobody and yet my heart
is filled with myself; my past, present and future throng my mind with
images all strange and indistinct, and there’s no room in it for
anything or anybody else. It seems that I have suddenly grown old in the
last few days. It would be wrong for me to promise to be your wife in my
present mood.” At this she again raised her eyes until they met his with
a calm and steady look.
“I shall not be importunate, Hagar, it is enough for me to know that you
are frank with me. But I may still tell you that I love you in spite of
what you say, that my heart is yours to do with as you like, to crush
beneath your feet if that will please you,” said the young man,
bitterly—and with the ingenuous ardor of inexperience and youth.
“No, dear friend,” she replied, her face becoming more pale in response
to the flush of color that appeared on his fair boyish cheek, “it is too
good a heart for that, and true enough to be an acceptable offering to
your country. You are laying it upon her sacred altar, Will, and heaven
grant it prove a blessed sacrifice!”
“How strangely you speak! This does not sound like yourself, you seem
another being!”
“Well, perhaps I am. It is but a few days since I last saw you, and yet
I should not know myself to be the same—”
“You are enigmatical,” he said, with a distressed look.
“I only speak the truth: You do not know how much I am changed.”
“Beware of fanciful notions, Hagar. I fear you are not happy. Can you
not confide in me?”
“No, not now,” she said, in a sad but kindly voice. “Good bye and Heaven
bless you, is all I can say, and that is from my heart!”
“And from my heart I repeat the words to you.” He spoke very solemnly,
and taking off his hat, raised her dainty hand to his lips.
“And now, before I go,” he added sadly—“perhaps never to see you again
in this world, will you not allow me to say a word to you as a brother?
Apart from my love, Hagar, I feel a deep interest in your welfare and
happiness, and at this moment I am oppressed by a vague apprehension
concerning you. It has been caused, no doubt, by what you have said. May
I speak freely?”
“Yes, Will.”
“I have but a narrow experience of the world, and yet, I can fully
realize the deprivation you suffer in not having a mother to counsel and
guide you at this critical period of your life. You are developing into
a handsome and charming woman, and your weal or woe must depend largely,
entirely upon the strength and wisdom of your own character. The
training you have had in patience and forbearance should stand you in
good stead; but an unswerving constancy to yourself must be the
invincible shield and buckler which should guard your innocence and
beauty. Of all beings, a woman must have a purpose and a will to fulfill
it. Forgive me if I have said too much.” he continued with great
tenderness, still holding her hand in his. “We have been good friends
for so many years.... Good-bye—good-bye....”
He pressed his lips to her brow, then quickly mounted his horse to
conceal his emotion, and sped away like the wind.
Some one has said that the youth of the West are not much skilled in
courtly gallantries. Perhaps not; but the native beauty of their
characters is often a charming substitute. Will Sanders was only a
farmer’s son, but he came of Puritan stock, and worked in school and
college as well as on the farm before he thought it his duty to shoulder
a musket in defense of his country. No knight of any age had a nobler
sense of honor than he, and the dear object of his first love was like a
goddess in his sight.
Hagar was in tears, but she felt an icy coldness in her heart which was
proof against the ardor of his words. A few days before, it would have
been impossible for her to have refused him the hope he asked; but now,
for reasons she could not explain even to herself, she felt an
indifference concerning him which was almost painful. The gathering
shades of night were settling about her, and a chilly breeze was
rustling through the naked branches of the chestnuts. Startled by the
sudden consciousness of being alone, she set out almost involuntarily
towards the house, but had only taken a few steps when she heard Father
Taine drive up, and turned back to open the gate for him. Another
gentleman, whom she recognized as the Rev. Mr. Smiles, was in the buggy
with him and immediately alighted. While they were speaking Dan came to
take charge of the horse, and Dr. Taine also got out to walk up the
avenue with Hagar.
“Upon my word, Miss Hagar,” said Mr. Smiles, who seemed to be in the
lively mood which she remembered as usual with him, “you have grown so
handsome I scarcely knew you!”
The young minister was dressed in a faultless suit of clerical black,
over which he wore a fashionable chesterfield. His high hat, his gloves,
boots and silk umbrella, were of the latest pattern and best quality. He
was of about the medium height, neither fat nor lean, but having that
fresh appearance peculiar to light complexioned people of his type; he
looked amiable and decidedly well nourished, states which are mutually
dependent upon each other, and supply a substantial defence against loss
of appetite or temper. He was evidently an even, easy-going man, too
much of a philosopher to worry about trifles, and too accustomed to
carrying his point to let them stand in his way. With the air of being
thoroughly self-satisfied he coupled a serene confidence in his ability
to make others believe in him. But his immobile, fleshy face was a non-
conductor so far as his character was concerned, for it registered none
of his thoughts and was but imperceptibly affected by his emotions.
His remark embarrassed Hagar, but he deftly turned the conversation into
easier channels, and soon put both herself and Dr. Taine in quite a
jovial frame of mind by his flow of wit and good nature.
Mrs. Taine was superlatively cordial in her words of welcome to Mr.
Smiles, and said she hoped he had come for a longer stay than he had
made on the former occasion.
“You are very kind, my dear madame,” he replied graciously, “but I am a
sort of bird of passage who never can tell to-day where he will be to-
morrow. Luckily, however, I am, while here, in the center of a district
in which I have much to do, and I sincerely hope that I may enjoy a few
days’ repose in this quiet and delightful retreat before I make my
presence known to those whose Cure I am. Then, with your permission, I
must be absent at intervals, and return to pass an odd day or two with
you, as the caprice of my calling will allow. It is only thus that I can
snatch a moment from my labors for social joys.”
Ma’am Taine looked at him attentively with her sharp little eyes while
he spoke, and thought him handsomer, if possible, than when she had last
seen him. His voice really had a pleasant tone, and did not suffer in
transmission to the old lady’s delighted ear. She said that she expected
him to make himself quite at home, and that his convenience would be
hers if he could content himself with such indifferent entertainment as
she could offer him.
In answer to which Mr. Smiles replied that his ideal existed only in the
quiet of a country life, if he could but share it with intelligent
people. Dr. Taine was silent. He was probably a little weary, and felt
no special interest in the polite combat. He presently excused himself
and went up stairs to see James. Hagar also disappeared.
The old lady talked on for some time, in fact until she was made aware
that supper was nearly ready, and it occurred to her that Mr. Smiles
might like to go to his room until the bell rang—Maria had already taken
up his satchel and overcoat, and was now directed to show him the way.
“Supper will be ready in a quarter of an hour, Mr. Smiles. You must let
me know if you do not find everything to your liking,” said Mrs. Taine,
detaining him.
“I admit, my dear madam, that I am passably fastidious, but one would be
compelled to invent a complaint in your house. None of the mansions at
which I am welcome either here or in the East is more pleasant to me
than Chestnut Grove.” The minister evinced some experience as a gauger
of character, for this flourish sank deeply into the heart of his
hostess.
The chamber that had been set apart for him was a large and well
furnished one on the second floor, adjoining that occupied by James
Taine. From a wide French window in the front of the room, there
projected a small iron balcony. It was the middle one of three similar
balconies on that floor, that on the right opening into James’s room.
Mr. Smiles flung the window open as soon as he entered, remarking to the
housemaid that he was fond of fresh air.
After sundry brushings and ablutions he labored some minutes before the
glass persuading his long wavy moustache to take a favorite twist. He
then gave his hair a few final dabs with the brush, and proceeded to
overhaul his coat-pockets, removing from them divers letters and papers
which he stowed away in his satchel. Having taken out various toilet
articles he locked and strapped the satchel securely and placed it in
the spacious wardrobe which occupied one side of the room, hung up some
of the clothing out of his portmanteau, and, after locking the wardrobe,
put the key into his pocket. He whistled the tune of some hymn while
thus engaged, and finally lit a cigar and went on the balcony to await
the supper bell.
Dr. Taine had told him of his son’s accident, but as soon as he stepped
outside the window he heard them conversing on that subject. He saw by
the reflection from the adjoining window that had been left ajar, and
what they said reached him as clearly as if he had been in the same
room. The air was getting pretty cool, but the moon and stars shone
brightly, and he decided to linger for a time upon the balcony.
“Did you go to the hospital, father?” he heard a voice say, which he
supposed was that of the son though he had not met him.
“Yes,” replied Dr. Taine, “and found the young man much better—in fact,
he says he can go out to-morrow and that he will come to see you soon.
He still maintains silence regarding himself. I was astonished to hear
what you told Dr. Warren about an assault made upon Hagar, and to learn
that this same man saved you both. It is most strange!”
“It is true, then?” asked James excitedly.
“Yes,” Dr. Taine replied, “the doctor asked him if he did not have an
adventure earlier in the day, for he had heard of a young girl being
rescued from a brutal attack, by a person answering his description. He
admitted that he was the man, repeated the circumstances, and inquired
after the young lady’s health. He said the affair ended by her saving
his life.”
“That is quite true,” said James. “Hagar told me that the villain had
thrown the young man on the ground, and was trying to draw a knife to
stab him when she knocked him senseless with a heavy staff. Most girls
would have run away and left him to be murdered, though he had risked
his life in their defence.”
They thought it strange that so gallant a young man should find it
necessary to conceal his name and his home.
When the supper bell rang and Dr. Taine rose to go, James said:—
“Father, I have been planning for an important move.”
“Yes? To California again?”
“No sir, I did not mean that kind of a move. I require your concurrence,
and perhaps your aid.”
“You may count on both to enable you to carry out any good resolution,
my son. What is it you wish to do?”
“Since I have met with this accident I think I shall not become a
soldier, but turn my attention to agriculture. I want to marry and take
charge of the farm so that I can make a home. That is now my only
ambition; but if I ever attain a competency which will supply me the
needed leisure, I shall take up again the thread of my literary
projects.”
“Such a course will fully coincide with my views, James, but I was not
aware that you had yet made your choice of a wife. That, you know, is
the most serious part of the business.”
“So far as I am concerned my choice has long been made; but I have not
broached the question to her, because, as I said, I want your
concurrence.”
“I would not step between my son and his choice unless I had serious
cause.”
“And have you not divined?”
“How could I? I know nothing of your circle of acquaintances, and I have
not heard you express a preference.”
“Why it is Hagar I love,—I have always loved her.”
“Hagar!” said Dr. Taine, starting back with a look of amazement. He had
not had a suspicion that such a situation would ever come about, and
James’s words produced a sudden and acute pain in the old man’s heart
which seemed to pierce him through. “James,” he continued, “Hagar is not
for you—it cannot be: she is your sister!”
“My sister? Only by adoption; she is no relation to me; and surely our
being reared under the same roof need not be a bar.”
“Dismiss the thought, James,” said his father, firmly. “Never mention
this to Hagar, for it is most unsuitable—it is out of the question.”
“How so? why do you wish to balk me in this, about the only favor I have
ever asked of you?”
“Because I cannot approve of the union you propose.”
“Why not?” he hesitated a moment and then said—“Is there some secret
reason?”
The old gentleman shook his head. “What, then, is the impediment?” As
his father turned away without answering, he added excitedly:—
“I tell you, father, if Hagar is willing she shall be mine, for there’s
not another woman in the world like her.”
Dreading the effects of excitement upon his injured son, the Doctor let
the matter drop, and entreated him to worry himself no more about it for
the present. He then left the room.
“Oh! ho!” exclaimed Mr. Smiles, “Hagar is in demand, but under an
embargo. Good! Other people are always after my prizes; I wonder whose
ticket will draw this one?” Such were the thoughts of Mrs. Taine’s guest
as he hastily descended to the supper room.