MISS WILDMERE'S STRATEGY
As we have seen, Madge could not resume her old relations with Graydon
Muir. Indeed, the turning-point in her life had been the impulse and
decision to escape them by going away. She was also right in thinking
that this inability would rather help than hinder her cause. If he
had come back and realized his expectations, he would have bestowed
unstintedly the placid affection of a brother, given her his
confidence, his aid, anything she wished, except his thoughts. While
she lost much else, she retained these in a way that puzzled and even
provoked him, in view of his devotion to Miss Wildmere. The very fact
that he resented the way in which he had been treated by Madge made
him think of her, although admitting to himself that it might all turn
out for the best. He would have soon accepted changes in externals,
and her added accomplishments, but there were other and more subtle
changes which he could not grasp. It began to pique him that he had
already been forced to abandon more than one impression in regard to
her character. It was somewhat humiliating that he, who had seen the
world, especially in its social aspects, should be perplexed by a
young girl scarcely twenty, and that this girl of all others should
be little Madge. He had intimated that she had become imbued with
sentimentality and aspirations after ideals, and was hoping to meet
a male embodiment of these traits, which he regarded as prominently
lackadaisical. Her merry and half ironical laugh was not the natural
response of a woman of the intense and aesthetic type.
"I don't understand her yet," he admitted; and he again assured
himself that it was not necessary that he should. She had not merely
drifted away from him, but had deliberately chosen that others should
guide and help in the new development. The thing for him to do now was
to secure the girl of his heart, who was not shrouded in mystery. It
was evident that Mr. Arnault had been an urgent suitor, and that she
was not already engaged to him proved, as he believed, that she had
been under the influence of a restraint readily explained by her more
than manner toward himself. "She will have to choose between us soon,"
he thought. "She understands us both, and her heart will soon give its
final verdict, if it has not already done so."
Miss Wildmere's heart would have slight voice in the verdict. Indeed,
it never had been permitted to say very much, and was approaching the
condition of a mute. She had her preference, however, and still hoped
to be able to follow it. She smiled upon Graydon almost as sweetly
as ever during the next two days, but he felt that she had grown
more elusive. She lured him on unmistakably, but permitted no
near approach. With consummate art, she increased the spell of her
fascinations, and added to the glamour which dazzled him. He might
look his admiration, and, more, he might compliment indefinitely;
but when he spoke too plainly, or sought stronger indications of her
regard, she was on the wing instantly, and he was too fine in his
perceptions to push matters against her will. One thing appeared
hopeful to him--she seemed possessed by a carefully veiled jealousy
of Madge. In his downright earnestness, he determined to give her no
cause for this, and treated Madge much as he did Mrs. Muir, allowing
for difference in age and relation. He determined that Miss Wildmere
should discover no ambiguity in his course or intentions. If thoughts
of him had kept her waiting through years, he would justify those
thoughts by all the means in his power. Casting about with a lover's
ingenuity for an explanation of her tantalizing allurement, yet
elusiveness, it occurred to him that she was unwilling to yield
readily and easily, from very fear that he might surmise the cause of
her freedom--that she had given him her love before it had been asked.
Therefore, it was not impossible that she now proposed for him a
somewhat thorny probation as an open suitor. She would not appear to
be easily won, and perhaps she thought that, since this was to be the
last wooing she could enjoy, she would make the most of it. He also
resolved to make the most of this phase of life, and to enjoy to the
utmost all of her shy witchery, her airy, hovering nearness to the
thought uppermost in his mind, as if she were both fascinated by it
and afraid. He little dreamed that her feminine grace and _finesse_
were but the practical carrying out of her father's suggestion, to
"keep him well in hand."
Madge felt herself neglected and partially forgotten. She saw that
Miss Wildmere's spell grew stronger upon Graydon every day. It was
not in her nature to seek to attract his attention or in the slightest
degree to enter the lists openly against her rival. During the first
three days of the week, her chief effort was to be so active and
cheerful that her deep despondency should be hidden from all. She was
the life of every little group of which she formed a part. Wherever
she appeared, mirth and laughter soon followed. The young girls in the
house began to acknowledge her as a natural leader, the boyish young
fellows to adore her, and the maturer men to discover that she could
hold her own with them in conversation, while another class learned,
to their chagrin, that she would not flirt. For every walking
expedition started she was ready with her alpenstock, and the experts
in the bowling alley found a strong, supple competitor, with eye and
hand equally true. Graydon, as far as his preoccupation permitted,
saw all this with renewed perplexity. She now appeared to him as
a beautiful, vigorous girl, with healthful instincts and a large
appetite for enjoyment.
Wednesday morning was cool and cloudy, and a large party was forming
to climb to Spy Rock. Graydon was longing for more activity, and since
the day was so propitious, Miss Wildmere consented to go. Of course
Madge was in readiness, and in charming costume for a walk. The moment
they were on the steep path he had to admit that she appeared the
superior of Miss Wildmere. The one owed her bloom to artificial and
metropolitan life; the other had gone to nature, and now acted as
if her foot were on her native heath. Her step was light, yet never
uncertain. Her progress was easy, and, although different, was quite
as graceful as if she were promenading the piazza, proving that she
was an adept in mountain-climbing. It was evident, however, that
to Miss Wildmere a mountain was a _terra incognita_. She trod
uncertainly, her feet turned on loose stones that hurt her, and before
the first steep ascent was passed, she panted and was glad to sit down
with others, more or less exhausted.
Madge's breathing was only slightly quickened, and color was beginning
to come in her usually pale face, yet she had lent a helping hand more
than once.
"How easily you climb, Miss Alden!" gasped Miss Wildmere. "Have you
taken lessons?"
"Yes," she replied, smiling sweetly, "and from a master."
Miss Wildmere also was beginning to discover a problem in Madge; she
could not patronize, snub, or apparently touch her with shafts of
satire. The young girl treated her with cordial indifference, as
one-of the guests of the house. She appeared to be capable of enjoying
herself thoroughly, with scarcely a consciousness of the belle's
existence, unless, as in the present case, she was addressed. Then she
would reply with perfect courtesy, but in some such ambiguous way. It
soon became evident to Graydon that the two girls were hostile, and
this both amused and vexed him. He was beginning to learn that Madge
was the more skilful opponent. She was never aggressive, yet seemed
clad in polished armor when attacked, and her quick replies flashed
back under the light of her smile. By acting, however, as if Miss
Wildmere were never in her thoughts, except when in some way obtruded
upon them, she gave the keenest wound. The flattered girl enjoyed
being envied, hated, and even detested by her own sex, but to be
politely ignored was a new and unwelcome experience, and she chafed
under it, not so secretly but that Graydon observed her annoyance.
After a rest they started on again, he with Miss Wildmere falling to
the rear. Before Madge passed around a curve in the path she saw a
lily on a bank above her, and with the aid of her alpenstock sprang
upon the mossy shelf, plucked the flower, and leaped down with an
effort so quick and agile that it seemed like the impulse of a bird
to get something and pass on. She put the flower in her belt, and a
moment later was hidden from view.
"I hope you observed that feat," Miss Wildmere remarked. "Indeed, Miss
Alden appears inclined to call attention to her feet this morning."
"I hope the ladies will observe them," he replied; "the gentlemen
will, for they are pretty. Did you not note that her boots are adapted
to walking? You could climb with twice the ease if your heels were not
so high. For mountain scrambling a lady needs short skirts, and boots
like those that Miss Alden wears. You should see the English girls
walking in the Alps. It's my good-fortune, however, that you are
partially disabled this morning. Here's a steep place. Take my arm and
put all the weight upon it you can--the more the better. Lean on me as
if you trusted me."
There was a slight frown on her brow, as he began his speech, but it
soon passed, and she said, softly, as she still lingered, "Well, I'm
not an athlete. I should value more a man's strong arm than strength
of my own."
"You know that the arm of one man is ever at your service."
"'Ever' implies more patience than any man possesses."
"I should think so; yet you will find me reasonably patient."
"Everything is a matter of reason with men."
"Our reason assures us that certain things are a matter of the heart
with women. Therefore we hope."
"Men are much too exacting. They reason a thing out and make up their
minds. If they base any hopes on women's hearts, they should remember
what unreasoning organs they are--full of hesitations, doubts, absurd
fears, and more absurd confidence at times. Have you ever seen a bird
hovering in the air, not knowing where to alight? Give it time, and
it makes its selection and swiftly follows its choice. No good
hunter rushes at it in the hope of capturing it during the moment of
indecision."
"Indeed, Miss Wildmere, if I understand your little parable, I think
Mr. Arnault errs egregiously, yet he does not frighten the bird into a
very distant flight."
"You do not know how distant it is."
"No; I only see that he goes straight for the bird the moment he sees
her."
"He might have found a more considerate policy wiser." Then she added,
gravely, with a little reproach in her voice: "Mr. Arnault is an old
friend and a friend of papa's, whom he often favors in business. I
think my manner toward you should prove that I am not inclined to be
disloyal toward old friends. You have just defended Miss Alden against
a little feminine spite on my part. That was nice. In the same way
I defend Mr. Arnault, whom, for reasons equally absurd, you do not
altogether like. I'm only a woman, you know, and a little spite is one
of our prerogatives. After all, it doesn't amount to anything. I would
do as much for Miss Alden as for any one in the house." (Quite true,
which was nothing.) "You know how girls are."
"Certainly, especially when both are reigning belles."
"The men are always the rulers sooner or later; and I shall give
my allegiance to those gentlemen friends who are the least like
myself--tolerant, patient, you know. Mr. Arnault is coming to-night to
spend the Fourth. I must give him more or less of my time--I should be
ungrateful if I did not--but I don't wish you to feel toward me or him
as I should toward you and Miss Alden if I saw that you were together
a great deal. How you see how frank I am, and what a compliment I pay
to your masculine superiority."
"Miss Wildmere, I think I understand you; I hope I do. Your manner of
greeting me on my return from long absence proved that you were not
disloyal to one old friend. If you could keep me in mind for years, I
can hope I am not forgotten during the hours when others have claims
upon you. I have ever kept you in mind, and I might say more. If women
have a little natural spite, men in some situations are endowed with
enormous selfishness, and the bump of appropriation grows almost into
a deformity."
"I never expect to see deformities of any kind in Graydon Muir," she
said, laughing. "Now that we understand each other so well, give me
your hand and pull me up this steep place before which we have stood
so long, while getting over another little steep place that lay in our
path. I'm glad the others have all gone on, for now you can help me
all you choose, and I shan't care."
He did help her, with a touch and freedom that grew into something
like caresses. He felt that he had revealed himself almost as
completely as if he had spoken his love, and that he had received and
was receiving more than encouragement. She did not rebuke his manner,
which was that of a lover. There was no committal in that, nothing
that could bind her. She permitted the avowal of his hope, that he
had been in her thoughts during his long absence, and the natural
inference that her hand was still free because of his hold upon her
heart. This belief filled him with gratitude, and inspired him, as she
intended it should, with generous thoughts and impulses toward her.
What if she did prefer to maintain a little longer the delicate half
reserve that precedes a positive engagement? It only insured that the
cup of happiness should be sipped and enjoyed more leisurely. She had
seen too much of life, and enjoyed too many of its pleasures, to act
with precipitation now. She understood him, and yet loved him well
enough to be jealous of one whom she believed that he regarded as a
sister. With amusement he thought: "She is not even that to me now.
Hanged if I know what she is to me beyond a pretty, vexatious puzzle!"
Miss Wildmere's strategy had accomplished one thing, however.
Believing that he was absolved by Madge's course from everything
beyond cordial politeness, he had resolved to carry out her rival's
wishes. It was no great cross to forego Madge's society, and if Miss
Wildmere saw that he was not consoling himself during the hours she
spent with Arnault, she would shorten them in his behalf.
After reaching a certain point he suggested: "Instead of scaling
that rocky height after the rest of the party, suppose we follow this
grassy wood-road to parts unknown. It will be easier for you than
climbing, and you are better society than a crowd."
She assented smilingly, and Madge did not see Graydon again until they
met at dinner.
She was pale, and looked weary. "Oh," she thought, "perhaps my hopes
are already vain! They have been alone all the morning. He may have
spoken; he looks so happy and content that he must have spoken and
received the answer he craved. If so, I shall soon join the Waylands
in my native village, for I can't keep up much longer without a little
hope."
"You are tired, Madge," he said, not unkindly.
"A little," she replied, carelessly. "A short nap this afternoon will
insure my being ready for the hop to-night."