PASSION'S CLAMOR
Laura had a strong affection for her aunt, and would naturally be
inclined to gratify any wishes that she might express, even had they
involved tasks uncongenial and unattractive. But the proposal that she
should become an ally in the effort to lure young Haldane from his evil
associations, and awaken within him pure and refined tastes, was
decidedly attractive. She was peculiarly romantic in her disposition,
and no rude contact with the commonplace, common-sense world had
chastened her innocent fancies by harsh and disagreeable experience. Her
Christian training and girlish simplicity lifted her above the ordinary
romanticism of imagining herself the heroine in every instance, and the
object and end of all masculine aspirations. On this occasion she simply
desired to act the part of a humble assistant of Mrs. Arnot, whom she
regarded as Haldane's good angel; and she was quite as disinterested in
her hope for the young man's moral improvement as her aunt herself.
The task, moreover, was doubly pleasing since she could perform it in a
way that was so womanly and agreeable. She could scarcely have given
Haldane a plain talk on the evils of fast living to save her life, but
if she could keep young men from going to destruction by smiling upon
them, by games of backgammon and by music, she felt in the mood to be a
missionary all her life, especially if she could have so safe and
attractive a field of labor as her aunt's back parlor.
But the poor child would soon learn that perverse human nature is much
the same in a drawing-room and a tenement-house, and that all who seek
to improve it are doomed to meet much that is excessively annoying and
discouraging.
The simple-hearted girl no more foresaw what might result from her
smiles than an ignorant child would anticipate the consequences of fire
falling on grains of harmless-looking black sand. She had never seen
passion kindling and flaming till it seemed like a scorching fire, and
had not learned by experience that in some circumstances her smiles
might be like incendiary sparks to powder.
In seeking to manage her "difficult case," Mrs. Arnot should have
foreseen the danger of employing such a fascinating young creature as
her assistant; but in these matters the wisest often err, and only
comprehend the evil after it has occurred. Laura was but a child in
years, having passed her fifteenth birthday only a few months previous,
and Haldane seemed to the lady scarcely more than a boy. She did not
intend that her niece should manifest anything more than a little
winning kindness and interest, barely enough to keep the young fellow
from spending his evenings out she knew not where. He was at just the
age when the glitter and tinsel of public amusements are most
attractive. She believed that if she could familiarize his mind with the
real gold and clear diamond flash of pure home pleasures, and those
which are enjoyed in good society, he would eventually become disgusted
with gilt, varnish, and paste. If Laura had been a very plain girl, she
might have seconded Mrs. Arnot's efforts to the utmost without any
unpleasant results, even if no good ones had followed; and it may well
be doubted whether any of the latter would have ensued. Haldane's
disease was too deeply rooted, and his tastes vitiated to such a degree
that he had lost the power to relish long the simple enjoyments of Mrs.
Arnot's parlor. He already craved the pleasures which first kindle and
excite and then consume.
Laura, however, was not plain and ordinary, and the smiles which were
intended as innocent lures from snares, instead of into them, might make
trouble for all concerned. Haldane was naturally combustible, to begin
with, and was now at the most inflammable period of his life.
The profoundest master of human nature portrayed to the world a Romeo
and a Juliet, both mastered by a passion which but a few words and
glances had kindled. There are many Romeos who do not find their Juliets
so sympathetic and responsive, and they usually develop at about the age
of Haldane. Indeed, nearly all young men of sanguine temperaments go
through the Romeo stage, and they are fortunate if they pass it without
doing anything especially ridiculous or disastrous. These sudden attacks
are exceedingly absurd to older and cooler friends, but to the victims
themselves they are tremendously real and tragic for the time being.
More hearts are broken into indefinite fragments before twenty than ever
after; but, like the broken bones of the young, they usually knit
readily together again, and are just as good for all practical purposes.
There was nothing unusual in the fact, therefore, that Haldane was soon
deeply enamored with his new acquaintance. It was true that Laura had
given him the mildest and most innocent kind of encouragement--and the
result would probably have been the same if she had given him none at
all--but his vanity, and what he chose to regard as his "undying love,"
interpreted all her actions, and gave volumes of meaning to a kindly
glance or a pleasant word. Indeed, before there had been time to carry
out, to any extent, the tactics her aunt had proposed, symptoms of his
malady appeared. While she was regarding him merely as one of her aunt's
"cases," and a very hard one at best, and thought of herself as trying
to help a little, as a child might hold a bandage or a medicine phial
for experienced hands, he, on the contrary, had begun to mutter to
himself that she was "the divinest woman God ever fashioned."
There was now no trouble about his spending evenings elsewhere, and the
maiden was perplexed and annoyed at finding her winning ways far too
successful, and that the one she barely hoped to keep from the
vague--and to her mind, horrible--places of temptation, was becoming as
adhesive as sticking-plaster. If she smiled, he smiled and ogled far too
much in return. If she chatted with one and another of the young men who
found Mrs. Arnot's parlor the most attractive place open to them in the
town, he would assume a manner designed to be darkly tragical, but which
to the young girl had more the appearance of sulking.
She was not so much of a child as to be unable to comprehend Haldane's
symptoms, and she was sufficiently a woman not to be excessively angry.
And yet she was greatly annoyed and perplexed. At times his action
seemed so absurd that she was glad to escape to her room, that she might
give way to her merriment; and again he would appear so much in earnest
that she was quite as inclined to cry and to think seriously of bringing
her visit to an abrupt termination.
While under Mrs. Arnot's eye Haldane was distant and circumspect, but
the moment he was alone with Laura his manner became unmistakably
demonstrative.
At first she was disposed to tell her aunt all about the young man's
sentimental manner, but the fact that it seemed so ridiculous deterred
her. She still regarded herself as a child, and that any one should be
seriously in love with her after but a few days' acquaintance seemed
absurdity itself. Her aunt might think her very vain for even imagining
such a thing, and, perhaps, after all it was only her own imagination.
"Mr. Haldane has acted queerly from the first," she concluded, "and the
best thing I can do is to think no more about him, and let auntie manage
her 'difficult case' without me. If I am to help in these matters, I had
better commence with a 'case' that is not so 'difficult.'"
She therefore sought to avoid the young man, and prove by her manner
that she was utterly indifferent to him, hoping that this course would
speedily cure him of his folly. She would venture into the parlor only
when her aunt or guests were there, and would then try to make herself
generally agreeable, without an apparent thought for him.
While she assured herself that she did not like him, and that he was in
no respect a person to be admired and liked, she still found herself
thinking about him quite often. He was her first recognized lover.
Indeed, few had found opportunity to give more than admiring glances to
the little nun, who thus far had been secluded almost continuously in
the safest of all cloisters--a country home. It was a decided novelty
that a young man, almost six feet in height, should be looking
unutterable things in her direction whenever she was present. She wished
he wouldn't, but since he would, she could not help thinking about him,
and how she could manage to make him "behave sensibly."
She did not maintain her air of indifference very perfectly, however,
for she had never been schooled by experience, and was acting solely on
the intuitions of her sex. She could not forbear giving a quick glance
occasionally to see how he was taking his lesson. At times he was
scowling and angry, and then she could maintain her part without
difficulty; again he would look so miserable that, out of pity, she
would relent into a half smile, but immediately reproach herself for
being "so foolish."
Haldane's manner soon attracted Mrs. Arnot's attention, notwithstanding
his effort to disguise from her his feeling and a little observation on
the part of the experienced matron enabled her to guess how matters
stood. While Mrs. Arnot was perplexed and provoked by this new
complication in Haldane's case, she was too kindly in her nature not to
feel sorry for him. She was also so well versed in human nature as to be
aware that she could not sit down and coolly talk him out of his folly.
Besides it was not necessarily folly. The youth was but following a law
of nature, and following it, too, in much the same manner as had his
fathers before him since the beginning of time. There would not be any
thing essentially wrong in an attachment between these young people, if
it sprang up naturally; only it would be necessary to impress upon them
the fact that they were _young_, and that for years to come their
minds should be largely occupied with other matters. Haldane certainly
would not have been her choice for Laura, but if a strong attachment
became the means of steadying him and of inciting to the formation of a
fine character, all might be well in the end. She was morbidly anxious,
however, that her niece should not meet with any such disappointment in
life as had fallen to her lot, and should the current of the young
girl's affection tend steadily in his direction she would deeply regret
the fact.
She would regret exceedingly, also, to have the young girl's mind
occupied by thoughts of such a nature for years to come. Her education
was unfinished; she was very immature, and should not make so important
a choice until she had seen much more of society, and time had been
given for the formation of her tastes and character.
Mrs. Arnot soon concluded that it would be wiser to prevent trouble than
to remedy it, and that Laura had better return speedily to the safe
asylum of her own home. She could then suggest to Haldane that if he
hoped to win the maiden in after years he must form a character worthy
of her.
Had she carried out her plan that day all might have turned out
differently, but the advanced in life are prone to forget the
impetuosity of youth. Haldane was already ripe for a declaration, or,
more properly, an explosion of his pent-up feelings, and was only
awaiting an opportunity to insist upon his own acceptance. He was so
possessed and absorbed by his emotions that he felt sure they would
sweep away all obstacles. He imagined himself pleading his cause in a
way that would melt a marble heart; and both vanity and hope had
whispered that Laura was a shy maiden, secretly responsive to his
passion, and only awaiting his frank avowal before showing her own
heart. Else why had she been so kind at first? Having won his love, was
she not seeking now to goad him on to its utterance by a sudden change
of manner?
Thus he reasoned, as have many others equally blind.
On becoming aware of Haldane's passion, Mrs. Arnot resolved to
sedulously guard her niece, and prevent any premature and disagreeable
scenes. She was not long in discovering that the feeling, as yet, was
all on the young man's side, and believed that by a little adroitness
she could manage the affair so that no harm would result to either
party.
But on the day following the one during which she had arrived at the
above conclusions she felt quite indisposed, and while at dinner was
obliged to succumb to one of her nervous headaches. Before retiring to
her private room she directed the waitress to say to such of her young
friends as might call that she was too ill to see them.
Haldane's expressions of sympathy were hollow, indeed, for he hoped
that, as a result of her indisposition, he would have Laura all to
himself that evening. With an insinuating smile he said to the young
girl, after her aunt had left the table:
"I shall expect you to be very agreeable this evening, to compensate me
for Mrs. Arnot's absence."
Laura blushed vividly, and was provoked with herself that she did so,
but she replied quietly:
"You must excuse me this evening, Mr. Haldane; I am sure my aunt will
need me."
His smile was succeeded by a sudden frown; but, as Mr. Arnot was at the
table, he said, with assumed carelessness:
"Then I will go out and try to find amusement elsewhere."
"It might be well, young man," said Mr. Arnot austerely, "to seek for
something else than amusement. When I was at your age I so invested my
evenings that they now tell in my business."
"I am willing to invest this evening in a way to make it tell upon my
future," replied Haldane, with a meaning glance at Laura.
Mr. Arnot observed this glance and the blushing face of his niece, and
drew his own conclusions; but he only said dryly:
"That remark is about as inexplicable as some of your performances at
the office of late."
Laura soon after excused herself and sought a refuge in her aunt's room,
which, being darkened, prevented the lady from seeing her burning cheeks
and general air of vexation and disquiet. Were it not for Mrs. Arnot's
suffering condition and need of rest, Laura would then have told her of
her trouble and asked permission to return home, and she determined to
do this at the first opportunity. Now, however, she unselfishly forgot
herself in her effort to alleviate her aunt's distress. With a strong
sense of relief she heard Haldane go out, slamming the front door after
him.
"Was there ever such an absurd fellow!" thought she; "he has made
himself disagreeable ever since I came, with his superior airs, as if he
knew everything, when, in fact, he doesn't know anything well, not even
good manners. He acts as if I belonged to him and had no right to any
will or wishes of my own. If he can't take the hints that I have given
he must be as stupid and blind as an owl. In spite of all that I can do
or say he seems to think that I only want an opportunity to show the
same ridiculous feeling that makes him appear like a simpleton. If I
were a young lady in society I should detest a man who took it for
granted that I would fall in love with him."
With like indignant musings she beguiled the time, wondering
occasionally why her aunt did not ask her to go down and entertain the
object of her dread, but secretly thankful that she did not.
At last Mrs. Arnot said:
"Mr. Haldane went out, did he not?"
"Yes, auntie, some time ago."
"I left my other bottle of smelling-salts in the parlor. I think it is
stronger than this. Would you mind getting it for me? It's on the
mantel."
Laura had no difficulty in finding it in the somewhat dimly-lighted
drawing-room, but as she turned to leave the apartment she saw Haldane
between her and the door.
Before he had reached any of his garish haunts he had felt such an utter
distaste for them in his present mood that he returned. He was conscious
of the impulse merely to be near the object of his thoughts, and also
hoped that by some fortunate chance he might still be able to find her
alone. That his return might be unnoted, he had quietly entered a side
door, and was waiting and watching for just such an opportunity as Mrs.
Arnot had unwittingly occasioned.
Laura tried to brush past, but he intercepted her, and said:
"No, Miss Laura, not till you hear me. You have my destiny in your
hands."
"I haven't anything of the kind," she answered, in tones of strong
vexation. Guided by instinct, she resolved to be as prosaic and
matter-of-fact as possible; so she added: "I have only aunt's
smelling-salts in my hands, and she needs them."
"I need _you_ far more than Mrs. Arnot needs her smelling-salts,"
he said tragically.
"Mr. Haldane, such talk is very absurd," she replied, half ready to cry
from nervousness and annoyance.
"It is not absurd. How can you trifle with the deepest and holiest
feelings that a man--of which a man--feels?" he retorted passionately,
and growing a little incoherent.
"I don't know anything about such feelings, and therefore cannot trifle
with them."
"What did your blushes mean this evening? You cannot deceive me; I have
seen the world and know it."
"I am not the world. I am only a school-girl, and if you had good sense
you would not talk so to me. You appear to think that I must feel and do
as you wish. What right have you to act so?"
"The truest and strongest right. You know well that I love you with my
whole soul. I have given you my heart--all there is of me. Have I not a
right to ask your love in return?"
Laura was conscious of a strange thrill as she heard these passionate
words, for they appeared to echo in a depth of her nature of which she
had not been conscious before.
The strong and undoubting assurance which possessed him carried for a
moment a strange mastery over her mind. As he so vehemently asserted the
only claim which a man can urge, her woman's soul trembled, and for a
moment she felt almost powerless to resist. His unreserved giving
appeared to require that he should receive also. She would have soon
realized, however, that Haldane's attitude was essentially that of an
Oriental lover, who, in his strongest attachments, is ever prone to
maintain the imperative mood, and to consult his own heart rather than
that of the woman he loves. While in Laura's nature there was unusual
gentleness and a tendency to respect and admire virile force, she was
too highly bred in our Western civilization not to resent as an insult
any such manifestation of this force as would make the quest of her love
a demand rather than a suit, after once recognizing such a spirit. She
was now confused, however, and after an awkward moment said:
"I have not asked or wished you to give me so much. I don't think you
realize what you are saying. If you would only remember that I am
scarcely more than a child you would not talk so foolishly. Please let
me go to my aunt."
"No, not till you give me some hope. Your blushes prove that you are a
woman."
"They prove that I am excessively annoyed and vexed."
"Oh, Laura, after raising so many hopes you cannot--you cannot----"
"I haven't meant to raise any hopes."
"Why were you so kind to me at first?"
"Well, if you must know, my aunt wished me to be. If I had dreamed you
would act so I would not have spoken to you."
"What motive could Mrs. Arnot have had for such a request?"
"I will tell you, and when you know the whole truth you will see how
mistaken you are, and how greatly you wrong me. Aunt wanted me to help
her keep you home evenings, and away from all sorts of horrid places to
which you were fond of going."
These words gave Haldane a cue which he at once followed, and he said
eagerly:
"If you will be my wife, I will do anything you wish. I will make myself
good, great, and renowned for your sake. Your smiles will keep me from
every temptation. But I warn you that if you cast me off--if you trifle
with me--I shall become a reckless man. I shall be ruined. My only
impulse will be self-destruction."
Laura was now thoroughly incensed, and she said indignantly:
"Mr. Haldane, I should think you would be ashamed to talk in that
manner. It's the same as if a spoiled boy should say: If you don't give
me what I wish, right or wrong, I will do something dreadful. If I ever
do love a man, it will be one that I can look up to and respect, and not
one who must be coaxed and bribed to give up disgusting vices. If you do
not open that door I will call uncle."
The door opened, and Mr. Arnot entered with a heavy frown upon his brow.