The man who drove over from the hillside with Miss Darry was always
waiting in the sleigh when I went out from my lesson. To-night, however,
he was not to be seen. Supposing he had merely stopped for one more
glass than usual at the tavern, I walked down the street, but, finding
that he did not appear, and disliking to leave Miss Darry alone in the
school-house, so late in the evening, I resolved, as I approached the
turn which led into Main Street, to go back and investigate the matter.
The tavern was beyond the school-house, at a little distance from the
village,--as, indeed, it should have been, to insure sleep to its
quiet-loving inhabitants. As I approached the school-house again, I saw
Miss Darry, warmly muffled for the drive home, walking also in the
direction of the tavern. "She surely cannot know what rough men go
there," I thought, and, conquering my awkwardness, I ran after her.
"Miss Darry!" I cried, when within a few steps of her. She turned, and I
strode to her side. "I am going to the tavern to look after your driver;
it will never do for you to go there alone. Hadn't you better go back to
the school-house and wait for me?" I said.
"You must have a great deal of native gallantry, Sandy. One would
imagine, from your lot in life, you had not been used to seeing women
shielded from disagreeable duties. I will go on with you, and wait
outside," she answered, smiling. So we walked on together.
The sleigh stood before the tavern-door. A warm buffalo was thrown over
the horse, who was, nevertheless, pawing impatiently in the snow, as if
aware that it was time to go home. Asking Miss Darry to get into the
sleigh, for I would not have taken the liberty of assisting her for the
world, I hastened up the low wooden steps, and, pushing open the door,
stood inside the bar-room. I had heard snatches of song, as we drew
near, and, afraid lest they should reach Miss Darry's ear also, I closed
it after me. A few of the village loafers were there, with the addition
of one or two less harmless characters, who, strolling through the
country, had tarried here for refreshment and a frolic: among the latter
was the man for whom Miss Darry was waiting, stretched in a state of
intoxication on the floor. I made my exit as soon as by a glance I
comprehended matters, yet not soon enough to escape the recognition of
the villagers, who cried out, "Come on, Sandy Allen!--don't slink off
that way!--let's have a drink!"
As I stood by the sleigh, explaining to Miss Darry the condition of her
driver, a crowd of the half-drunken fellows came out of the tavern, and
staggered down the path toward us. I had not the courage to offer to
drive her home, but she did not wait for me to grow bolder.
"Jump in, Sandy,--no, not on the front seat,--here by me. I am afraid of
those men. Besides, I want to talk with you."
So I seated myself next her, drew the warm robe over us both, and just
as one of the men attempted to seize the reins, declaring he had himself
promised to carry the lady home, I caught them from him, and we drove
rapidly up the street.
Somehow Miss Darry's confession of a little feminine timidity put me
more at ease with her than I had ever been before. I was a strong,
muscular fellow of nineteen, perfectly able to defend myself in
circumstances of ordinary danger, and proud that a woman so superior to
me should trust in my readiness to protect her. Life and vigor tingled
in every nerve of my body; the clear, stinging winter air, exhilarating
to healthy, as wine is to enfeebled bodies, thrilled me with enjoyment;
and I was seated beside the most intelligent and appreciative companion
I had ever known.
How much of my life, with its restless desires and unsatisfied tastes,
must have revealed itself in that ride, which seemed only too short, as
she asked me to drive up the avenue leading to the stone house, whose
beacon I had looked at that same evening from the forge!
"Do you live here?" I asked, in surprise, as we drove swiftly along.
"Yes, I teach Miss Merton's little sisters."
We had no time for further words. The horse stopped before the house,
whose great hall-door swung open, letting a flood of light stream over
the stone steps. A young girl, wrapped in an ermine cape, ran down to
us, followed by the stranger whose appearance in the forge that
afternoon had created such a tumult in my mind.
The scene was a beautiful one. Every shrub and tree on the lawn was
enveloped in a garment of more dazzling purity than the ermine before
me. The moonlight was radiant, the stars sparkled lustrously in the
steel cold sky, the earth was carpeted and canopied with a beauty more
resplendent than the graceful luxuriance of summer. Miss Darry probably
ascribed my immovable position to artistic enjoyment of the landscape,
for I remained perfectly quiet while she explained the cause of her
detention to Miss Merton.
"We have been quite anxious about you," said the gentleman, as she
concluded; and turning to me, "Why, we are indebted for your safe return
to the young man by whom my horse was shod this evening!"
And before I could stammer a reply, Miss Darry exclaimed,--
"Jump out, if you please, Sandy. I should like to do the same."
I did so, mechanically, and was about to stand aside for the gentleman
to offer his hand, but she extended hers to me, and sprang lightly
beside me.
"You will surely take cold, Alice," said the gentleman, drawing Miss
Merton's hand within his arm, and turning to ascend the steps. Then,
first, I awoke from mingled surprise and admiration sufficiently to say
quietly,--
"I must go home. Good evening."
"Not at all," exclaimed the gentleman, turning round; "it is nearly
twelve o'clock, and I verily believe you think of walking back to Warren
to-night. You must take the horse and sleigh, if you go. Shall he not,
Alice?"
Miss Merton, thus appealed to, replied by saying to me,--
"Come in with us, Mr. Allen, and get warmed at least. I have heard Miss
Darry speak of you as the one of her class in whom she is especially
interested; so you see we are not strangers, after all."
There was no condescension in the gentle voice and smile for even my
sensitiveness to detect. I had never been addressed as Mr. Allen before;
and this of itself would have confused me sometimes, but now I forgot
myself in admiration of her.
That face was of perfect contour. Small and delicately fair, soft bands
of light-brown hair shaded the low, smooth brow and large gray eyes,
and the full red lips were tremulous with varying expression. Her hands
and figure were of the same delicate outline as her face. And as her
cape blew aside, I noticed the violet silk she wore, of that blended
blue and purple so becoming to blondes.
It were surely a narrow view, to ascribe this grace of expression and
manner, so peculiarly womanly, this evident desire to please even,
betrayed in careful attention to the artistic finish and details of
dress, to vanity or coquetry merely,--it is so often the outgrowth of a
beauty-loving nature, to be found in some of the most sensitive and
refined of the other sex.
Looking at Miss Merton, therefore, I seemed to have a vision of what
Annie Bray might become, if she were developed from within and
surrounded from without by that halo of refinement which crowned the
lady before me. Already I was developing an Epicurean taste for that
spirit of beauty which flooded Annie Bray's humble life as well as her
own.
Miss Darry spoke to me, as we went up the steps; but to what I assented
I do not know. I listened to the low tones in front of me. I have always
possessed a preternaturally quick ear; but I confess I might have used
it to better purpose on that occasion.
"Now, Hamilton, of course he must stay all night," she whispered, as she
leaned on the gentleman's arm; "and I want you to make him feel
perfectly comfortable in doing so."
"Certainly, if he will; but pray don't spoil him, Alice, darling.
Because he is a youth of some scholarship, a good deal of refinement,
and develops a talent for drawing, it is no reason he should be made to
forget he's a blacksmith."
"It is too late for theories to-night, Hamilton," she replied,
playfully. "I have none, you know, like you and Frank Darry. I only wish
to treat him considerately. _We_ can afford to forget distinctions which
undoubtedly seem a great barrier to him. If he stays, he shares our
hospitality like any other guest."
The answer I did not catch. I had heard enough, however, to feel both
grateful and irritated.
I went in and warmed myself by the coal-fire in the library. I looked
covertly at books and Miss Merton while toasting my hands, and answered
intelligently, I believe, Mr. Hamilton Lang's questions as to the
village and my pursuits there. I did not neglect to speak a few cordial,
yet respectful, words to Miss Darry, at parting; but all I clearly
recall is the fact that I insisted upon going home that night, and that
Miss Merton, kindly offering to lend me any books I could find time to
read, laid her little hand in my rough palm at parting.