GOSSIP.
In course of time Uncle Joseph came, as was arranged, and on the day
following Maddy and Guy went down to see him, finding him a tall,
powerfully-built man, retaining many vestiges of manly beauty, and fully
warranting all Mrs. Markham had said in his praise. He seemed perfectly
gentle and harmless, though when Guy was announced as _Mr. Remington_,
Maddy noticed that in his keen black eyes there was for an instant a
fiery gleam, but it quickly passed away, as he muttered:
“Much too young; he was older than I, and I am over forty. It’s all
right.”
And the fiery eye grew soft and almost sleepy in its expression, as the
poor lunatic turned next to Maddy, telling her how pretty she was,
asking her if she were engaged, and bidding her be careful that her
_fiancé_ was not more than a dozen years older than herself.
Uncle Joseph seemed to fancy her from the very first, following her from
room to room, touching her fair soft cheeks, smoothing her silken hair,
telling her Sarah’s used to curl, asking if she knew where Sarah was,
and finally crying for her as a child cries for its mother, when at last
she went away. Much of this Maddy repeated to Jessie, as in the twilight
they sat together in the parlor at Aikenside; and Jessie was not the
only listener, for, with her face resting on her hand, and her head bent
eagerly forward, Agnes sat, so as not to lose a word of what Maddy was
saying of Uncle Joseph. The intelligence that he was coming to the red
cottage had been followed by a series of headaches, so severe and
protracted that Dr. Holbrook had pronounced her really sick, and had
been unusually attentive. Very anxiously she had waited for the result
of Maddy’s visit to the poor lunatic, and her face was white as marble
as she heard him described, while a faint sigh escaped her when Maddy
told what he had said of _Sarah_.
Agnes was changed somewhat of late. She had grown more thoughtful and
quiet, while her manner toward Maddy was not so haughty as formerly. Guy
thought her improved, and thus was not so delighted as he would
otherwise have been, when, one day, about two weeks after Uncle Joseph’s
arrival at Honedale, she startled him by saying she thought it nearly
time for her to return to Boston, if she meant to spend the winter
there, and asked what she should do with Jessie.
Guy was not quite willing for Agnes to leave him there alone, but when
he saw that she was determined he consented to her going, with the
understanding that Jessie was to remain—a plan which Agnes did not
oppose, as a child so large as Jessie might stand in the way of her
being so gay as she meant to be in Boston. Jessie, too, when consulted,
said she would far rather remain at Aikenside; and so one November
morning, Agnes kissed her little daughter, and bidding good-bye to Maddy
and the servants, left a neighborhood which, since Uncle Joseph was so
near, had become so intolerable that not even the hope of winning the
doctor could avail to keep her in it.
Guy accompanied her to the city, wondering why, when he used to like it
so much, it now seemed dull and tiresome, or why the society he had
formerly enjoyed failed to bring back the olden pleasure he had
experienced when a resident of Boston. Guy was very popular there, and
much esteemed by his friends of both sexes, and great were the efforts
made to entertain and keep him as long as possible. But he could not be
prevailed upon to stay there long, and after seeing Agnes settled in one
of the most fashionable boarding-houses he started for Aikenside.
It was dark when he reached home, and as the evening had closed in with
a heavy rain, the house presented rather a cheerless appearance,
particularly as, in consequence of Mrs. Noah’s not expecting him that
day, no fires had been kindled in the parlors, or in any room except the
library. There a bright coal fire was blazing in the grate, and thither
Guy repaired, finding there, as he expected, Jessie and her teacher. Not
liking to intrude on Mr. Guy, of whom she still stood somewhat in awe,
Maddy soon arose to leave, but Guy bade her stay; he should be lonely
without her, he said; and so, bringing her work, she sat down to sew,
while Jessie looked over a book of prints, and Guy upon the lounge
studied the face which, it seemed to him, grew each day more and more
beautiful. Then he talked with her of books, and the lessons which were
to be resumed on the morrow, watching her as her bright face sparkled
and glowed with excitement. Then he questioned her of her father’s
family, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing that the
Clydes were not a race of whose blood any one need be ashamed; and Maddy
was more like them, he was sure, than like the Markhams, and Guy
shivered a little as he recalled the peculiar dialect of Mr. and Mrs.
Markham, and remembered that they were Maddy’s grandparents. Not that it
was anything to him. Only as an inmate of his family he felt interested
in her, more so perhaps than young men were apt to be interested in
their sister’s governess.
Had Guy then been asked the question, he would, in all probability, have
acknowledged that in his heart there was a feeling of superiority to
Maddy Clyde; that she was not quite the equal of Aikenside’s heir, nor
yet of Lucy Atherstone. It was natural; he had been educated to feel the
difference, but any haughty arrogance of which he might have been guilty
was kept down by his extreme good sense, and generous, impulsive nature.
He liked Maddy; he liked to look at her as, in the becoming crimson
merino which he really and Jessie nominally had given her, she sat
before him, with the firelight falling on her beautiful hair, and making
shadows on her sunny face.
Guy was luxurious in his tastes and it seemed to him that Maddy was just
the picture to set off that room, or, in fact, all the rooms at
Aikenside. She would disgrace none of them, and he found himself wishing
that Providence had made her something to him—sister or cousin, or
anything that would make her one of the Remington line.
It did not take long for the people in the neighborhood to hear that Guy
Remington had turned schoolmaster, and had in his library for two hours
or more each day Jessie’s little girl-governess, about whose beauty
there was so much said; people wondering, as people will, where it would
end, and if it could be possible that the haughty Guy had forgotten his
English _fiancée_ and was educating a wife.
The doctor, to whom these remarks were sometimes made, silently gnashed
his teeth, then said savagely that “if Guy chose to teach Maddy Clyde,
he did not see whose business it was,” and then rode over to Aikenside
to see the teacher and pupil, half hoping that Guy would soon tire of
his project and give it up. But Guy grew more and more pleased with his
employment, until, at last, from giving Maddy two hours of his time, he
gave her four, esteeming them the pleasantest of the whole twenty-four.
Guy was proud of Maddy’s improvement, and often praised her to the
doctor, who also marveled at the rapid development of her mind and the
progress she made, grasping a knotty point almost before it was
explained, and retaining with wonderful tenacity what she had learned.
It mattered nothing to Guy that the neighbors gossiped; there were none
familiar enough to tell him what was said, except the doctor or Mrs.
Noah; and so he heard few of the remarks made so frequently. As in
Honedale, so in Sommerville Maddy was a favorite, and those who
interested themselves most in the matter never said anything worse of
her and Mr. Guy than that he might perhaps be educating his own wife,
and insinuating that it would be a great “catch” for Grandfather
Markham’s child. But Maddy never dreamed of such a thing, and kept on
her pleasant way, reciting every day to Guy, and going every Wednesday
to the red cottage, whither, after his first visit to Uncle Joseph, Guy
never accompanied her. Jessie, on the contrary, went often to Honedale,
where the lunatic always greeted her coming, stealing up closely to her,
and whispering softly, “My Daisy has come again.”
He had called her _Sarah_ at first, and then changed the name to
“Daisy,” which he persisted in calling her, watching from his window for
her coming, and crying whenever Maddy appeared without her. At first
Agnes, in her letters, forbade Jessie’s going so often to see a lunatic;
but when Jessie described the poor, crazy man’s delight at sight of her,
telling how quiet and happy he seemed if he could but lay his hand on
her head, or touch her hair, she withdrew her restrictions, and, as if
moved to an unwonted burst of tenderness, wrote to her daughter,
“Comfort that crazy man all you can; he needs it so much.”
A few weeks after this there came another letter from Agnes, but this
time it was to Guy, and its contents darkened his handsome face with
anger and vexation. Incidentally Agnes had heard the gossip, and written
it to Guy, adding, in conclusion: “Of course I know it is not true, for
even if there were no Lucy Atherstone, you, of all men, would not stoop
to Maddy Clyde. I do not presume to advise, but I will say this, that
now she is growing a young lady, people will keep on talking so long as
you keep her there in the house; and it’s hardly fair toward Lucy.”
Latterly Guy had fancied that the doctor did not like the educating
process, while even Mrs. Noah managed to keep Maddy out of his way as
soon as the lessons were ended. What did they mean? What were they
afraid of, and why did they presume to interfere with him? He would
know, at all events; and summoning Mrs. Noah to his presence, he read
her that part of Agnes’s letter pertaining to Maddy, and asked what it
meant.
“It means this, that folks are in a constant worry, for fear you’ll fall
in love with Maddy Clyde.”
“I fall in love with that child!” Guy repeated, laughing at the idea,
and forgetting that he had often accused the doctor of doing that very
thing.
“Yes, you,” returned Mrs. Noah, “and ’taint strange they do; Maddy is
not a child; she’s nearer sixteen than fifteen, is almost a young lady;
and if you’ll excuse my boldness, I must say I ain’t any too well
pleased with the goin’s on myself; not that I don’t like the girl, for I
do, and I don’t blame her an atom. She’s as innocent as a new-born babe,
and I hope she’ll always stay so; but you, Mr. Guy, you now tell me
honest—do you think as much of Lucy Atherstone as you used to, before
you took up school-teachin’?”
Guy did not like to be interfered with, and, naturally high-spirited, he
at first flew into a passion, declaring that he would not have people
meddling with him, that he thought of Lucy Atherstone _all_ the time,
and he did not know what more he could do; that it was a pity if a man
could not enjoy himself in his own way, provided that way were harmless;
that he’d never, in all his life, spent so happy a winter as the last;
that——
Here Mrs. Noah interrupted him with, “That’s it, the very _it_; you want
nothing better than to have that girl sit close to you when she recites,
as she does; and once when she was workin’ out some of them _plusses_
and _minuses_, and things, her slate rested on your knee; it did, I saw
it with my own eyes; and then, let me ask, when Jessie is drummin’ on
the piano, why don’t you bend over her, and turn the leaves, and count
the time as you do when Maddy plays; and how does it happen that lately,
Jessie is in the way, when you hear Maddy’s lessons. She has no
suspicions, but I know she ain’t sent off for nothin’; I know you’d
rather be alone with Maddy Clyde than to have anybody present; isn’t it
so?”
Guy began to wince. There was much truth in what Mrs. Noah had said. He
did devise various methods of getting rid of Jessie when Maddy was in
his library, but it had never looked to him in just the light it did as
when presented by Mrs. Noah, and he doggedly asked what Mrs. Noah would
have him do.
“First and foremost, then, I’d have you tell Maddy yourself that you are
engaged to Lucy Atherstone; second, I’d have you write to Lucy all about
it, and if you honestly can, tell her that you only care for Maddy as a
friend; third, I’d have you send the girl——”
“Not away from Aikenside! I never will!” and Guy sprang to his feet.
The mine had exploded, and for an instant the young man reeled, as he
caught a glimpse of his real self. Still, he would not believe it, or
confess to himself how strong a place in his affection was held by the
beautiful girl, now no longer a child. It was almost a year since that
April afternoon when he first saw Maddy Clyde, and from a timid, bashful
child, of fourteen and a half, she had grown to the rather tall and
self-possessed maiden of fifteen and a half, almost sixteen, or, as Mrs.
Noah said, “almost a woman;” and as if to verify the latter fact, she
herself appeared at that very moment, asking permission to come in and
find a book, which had been mislaid, and which she needed in hearing
Jessie’s lessons.
“Certainly, come in,” Guy said; and folding his arms he leaned against
the mantel, watching her as she hunted for the missing book.
There was no pretense about Maddy Clyde, nothing was done for effect,
and yet in every movement she showed marks of great improvement, both in
manner and style. Of one hundred people who might glance at her,
ninety-nine would look a second time, asking who she was. Naturally
graceful and utterly forgetful of herself, she always appeared to good
advantage, and never to better than now, when two pairs of eyes were
watching her, as, standing on tiptoe, or kneeling upon the floor to look
under the secretary, she hunted for the book. Not the remotest suspicion
had Maddy of what was occupying the thoughts of her companions, though,
as she left the room and glanced brightly up at Guy, it struck her that
his face was dark and moody, and a painful sensation flitted through her
mind that in some way she had intruded.
“Well,” was Mrs. Noah’s first comment, as the door closed on Maddy; but
as Guy made no response to that, she continued: “She is pretty. That you
won’t deny.”
“Yes, more than pretty. She’ll make a most beautiful woman.”
Guy seemed to talk more to himself than to Mrs. Noah, while his foot
kicked the fender, and he mentally compared Lucy and Maddy with each
other, and tried to think that it was not the result of this comparison,
but rather Mrs. Noah’s next remark, which affected him unpleasantly.
“Of course she’ll make a splendid woman,” Mrs. Noah said. “Everybody
notices her now for her beauty, and that’s why you’ve no business to
keep her here where you see her every day. It’s a wrong to her, lettin’
yourself alone.”
Guy looked up inquiringly, and Mrs. Noah continued:
“I’ve been a girl myself, and I know that Maddy can’t be treated as you
treat her without its having an effect. I’ve no idea that it’s entered
her head yet, but it will, and then good-bye to her happiness.”
“For pity’s sake, what do you mean? Do explain, and not talk to me in
riddles. What have I done to Maddy, or what am I going to do?”
Guy spoke savagely, and his boots were in great danger of being burned
as he kicked vigorously against the fender. Coming nearer to him, and
lowering her voice, Mrs. Noah replied:
“You are going to teach her to love you, Guy Remington, just as sure as
my name is Noah.”
“And is that anything so very bad, I’d like to know? Most girls do not
find love distasteful,” and Guy walked hastily to the window, where he
stood for a moment gazing out upon the soft April snow, which was
falling, and feeling anything but satisfied either with the weather or
himself; then walking back, and taking a seat before the fire, he said:
“I understand you now. You would save Maddy Clyde from sorrow, and you
are right. You know more of girls than I do. She might in time get
to—to—think of me as she ought not. I never looked upon it in this light
before. I’ve been so happy with her;” Guy’s voice faltered a little, but
he recovered himself and went on: “I will tell her about Lucy to-night,
but I can’t send her away. Neither will she be happy to go back, for
though the best of people, they are not like Maddy, and you know it.”
Mrs. Noah did know it, and pleased that her boy, as she called Guy, had
shown some signs of penitence and amendment, she said she did not think
it necessary to send Maddy home; she did not advise it either. She liked
the girl, and what she advised was this, that Guy should send Maddy and
Jessie both to boarding-school. Agnes, she knew, would be willing, and
it was the best thing he could do. Maddy would thus learn what was
expected of a teacher, and as soon as she graduated, she could procure
some eligible situation, or if Lucy were there, and desired it, she
could come and stay forever for all she cared.
“And during the vacations, where must she go?” Guy asked.
“Go where she pleases, of course. As Jessie is so fond of her, and they
are so much like sisters, it will not be improper for her to come here,
as I see, provided Agnes is here. Her presence, of course, would make a
difference,” Mrs. Noah replied; while Guy continued:
“I know you are right; that is, I do not wish to do Maddy a harm by
placing temptation in her way, neither will I have anybody meddling with
my business. I tell you I won’t. I don’t mean you, for you have a right
to say what no one else has,” and he glanced half angrily at Mrs. Noah.
“Pity if I can’t take an interest in a girl, because I once wronged her,
without every old woman in Christendom thinking she must needs fall in
love with me, and so be ruined for life. Maddy Clyde has too good sense
for that, or will have when I tell her about Lucy.”
“And you will do so?” Mrs. Noah said, coaxingly.
“Of course I will, and write to Lucy, too, telling her how you talked,
and how I care no more for Maddy than I do for Jessie.”
“And will that be true?” Mrs. Noah asked.
Guy could not look her fully in the face then, so he kicked the grate
until the concussion sent the red-hot coals out upon the carpet, as he
replied:
“True? Yes, every word of it.”
Mrs. Noah noted all this, and thought:
“I ought to have taken him in hand long ago;” then she came up to him
and said kindly, soothingly, “We shall all miss Maddy; I as much as any
one, but I do think it best for her to go to school; and so, after tea,
I’ll manage to keep Jessie with me, and send Maddy to you, while you
tell her about Lucy and the plan.”
Guy nodded a little jerking kind of a nod, in token of his assent, and
then, with that perversity which prompts women particularly to press a
subject after enough has been said upon it, Mrs. Noah, as she turned to
leave the room, gave vent to the following:
“You know, Guy, as well as I, that, pretty as she is, Maddy is really
beneath you, and no kind of a match, even if you wan’t as good as
married, which you be;” and the good lady left the room in time to
escape seeing the sparks fly up the chimney, as Guy now made a most
vigorous use of the poker, and so did not finish the scorching process
commenced on the end of his boot.
Mrs. Noah’s last remark awakened in Guy a singular train of thought.
Maddy was his inferior as the world saw matters, and, settling himself
in the chair, he tried to fancy what that same world would say if he
should make Maddy his wife. Of course he had no such intentions, he was
just imagining something which never could possibly happen, because in
the first place he wouldn’t marry Maddy Clyde if he could, and he
couldn’t if he would! Still, it was not an unpleasant occupation
fancying what his friends, and especially Agnes, would say if he did,
and so he sat dreaming about it until the bell rang for supper, when
with a nervous start he woke from the reverie, and wishing the whole was
over started for the supper room.