OUR GUEST.
I stood in the oriel window that curved out from one end of the large
parlor and looked toward the east; that is, it commanded a broad view
from all points, save the direct west. The heavenly glimpses of scenery
that you caught at every turn through the small diamond panes were
enough to drive an artist mad, that so much unpainted poetry could
exist, and not glow warm and fresh on his canvas. I am an artist, at
soul, and have a gallery of the most superb brain-pictures stowed away
in my thoughts, but among them all there is nothing to equal the scene,
or rather scenes, I was gazing upon.
The window was deep, and when that rich volume of curtains shut it out
from the parlor, it was the most cosy little spot in the world. A deep
easy-chair, and a tiny marble stand, filled it luxuriously. On the
outside, white jasmines, passion-flowers, and choice roses, crept up to
the edge of the glass in abundance, encircling you with massive wreaths
of foliage and blossoms.
This window had always been my favorite retreat, when sadness or care
oppressed me, as it had begun to do seriously of late, for a degree of
estrangement had arisen between Jessie and myself, after our return from
the sea-side. I could not share her enthusiasm regarding some of the
persons we had met there, and for the first time in her life she was
half offended with me.
I can hardly express the pain this gave me. All her life she had come to
me in her troubles; and her bright, innocent joys I always shared; for,
like a flower-garden, she sent back the sunshine that passed over her,
enriched and more golden from a contact with her loveliness. I can
hardly tell you what a thing of beauty she was; yet, I doubt if you
would have thought her so very lovely as I did, for my admiration was
almost idolatry. Of late I had remarked a certain reserve about her, the
reticence which kept a sanctuary of feeling and thought quite away from
the world, and alas, from me also. Yet she was frank and truthful, as
the flower which always folds the choicest perfume close in its own
heart. What secret feeling was it that kept her from me, her oldest and
best friend.
I was thinking of Jessie while I sat in the easy-chair, looking down the
carriage-road that led through our private grounds from the highway; for
ours was an isolated dwelling, and no carriage that was not destined for
the house ever came up that sweep of road. I looked down upon it with a
sad, heavy feeling, though my eyes passed over a terrace crowned with a
wilderness of flowers, reached by a flight of steps. The gleam of these
flowers, and the green slope beyond, were a part of the scenery on which
I gazed, yet I saw nothing of them.
We expected Mrs. Dennison. The carriage had gone over to the country
town which lay behind the hills piled up at my left, and I was listening
for the sound of its wheels on the gravel with a strange thrill of
anxiety. Why was this? What did I care about the young widow who had
been invited to spend a few days with our Jessie? She was only a
watering-place acquaintance--a clever, beautiful woman of the world,
who, having a little time on her hands, had condescended to remember
Mrs. Lee's half-extorted invitation, and was expected accordingly.
Jessie was rather excited with the idea of a guest, for it so chanced
that we had been alone for a week or two; and though I never saw a
family more independent of society than Mrs. Lee's, guests always bring
expectation and cheerfulness with them in a well-appointed country
house.
"I wonder what keeps them?" said my darling, softly lifting one side of
the silken curtains, and unconsciously dropping them into the background
of as lovely a picture as you ever saw. "Here are some flowers for the
stand, Aunt Matty. She'll catch their bloom through the window, and know
it is my welcome."
I took the crystal vase from her hand, and set it on the little table
before me.
"Hush!" she said, lifting the drapery higher, and bending forward to
listen. "Hush! Isn't that the carriage coming through the pine grove?"
I turned in my chair, for Jessie was well worth looking at, even by a
person who loved her less fondly than I did. Standing there, draped to
artistic perfection in her pretty white dress, gathered in surplice
folds over her bosom, and fastened there with an antique head, cut in
coral, with its loose sleeves falling back from the uplifted arm, till
its beautiful contour could be seen almost to the shoulder, she was a
subject for Sir Joshua Reynolds. I am sure that great master would not
have changed the grouping in a single point.
"No," I said, listening; "it is the gardener's rake on the gravel walk,
I think."
She bent her head sideways, listening, and incredulous of my
explanation. Some gleams of sunshine fell through the glass, and lay
richly on the heavy braid of hair that crowned her head in a raven
coronal.
We always remember those we love in some peculiar moment which lifts
itself out of ordinary life by important associations; or, as in this
case, by the singular combinations of grace that render them attractive.
To my last breath, I shall never forget Jessie Lee, as she stood before
me that morning.
"Well," she said, with an impatient movement that left the curtains
falling between us like the entrance of a tent, "watched rose-buds never
open. I'll go back to the piano, and let her take me by surprise. I'm
glad you're looking so nice, aunt. She'll be sure to like you now in
spite of herself, though you were so cold and stiff with her at the
Branch, and I defy you to help liking her in the end."
As Jessie said this, her hand fell on the keys of the piano, and
instantly a gush of music burst through the room, so joyous that the
birds that haunted the old forest-trees around the house burst into a
riot of rival melody. Amid this delicious serenade the carriage drove
up.
I saw Mr. Lee alight, in his usual stately way; then Mrs. Dennison
sprang upon the lowest step of the broad stairs that led up to the
terrace, scarcely touching Mr. Lee's offered hand. There she stood a
moment, her silk flounces fluttering in the sunlight, and her neatly
gloved hands playing with the clasp of her travelling satchel, as the
servant took a scarlet shawl and some books from the carriage. Then she
gave a rapid glance over the grounds, and looked up to the house,
smiling pleasantly, and doubtless paying Mr. Lee some compliment, for
his usually sedate face brightened pleasantly, and he took the lady's
satchel, with a gallant bow, which few young men of his time could have
equalled.
Certainly our guest was a beautiful woman: tall, queenly, and conscious
of it all; but I did not like her. One of those warnings, or
antipathies, if you please, which makes the heart take shelter in
distrust, seized upon me again that moment, and I felt like flying to my
darling, who sat amid the sweet harmonies she was herself creating, to
shield her from some unknown danger.
I left my seat and passed through the curtains, thinking to warn Jessie
of her friend's arrival; but when I was half across the room, our
visitor came smiling and rustling through the door. She motioned me to
be still, and, darting across the carpet, seized Jessie's head between
both hands, bent it back, and, stooping with the grace of a Juno, kissed
her two or three times, while her clear, ringing laugh mingled with the
notes which had broken into sudden discords under Jessie's fingers.
"So I have chased my bird to its nest, at last," she said, releasing her
captive with a movement that struck even me--who disliked her from the
beginning--as one of exquisite grace. "Hunted it to the mountains, and
find it in full song, while I searched every window in the house, as we
drove up, and fancied all sorts of things: a cold welcome among the
least."
"That you will never have," cried Jessie, and the smile with which she
greeted her guest was enough of welcome for any one. "The truth is, I
got out of patience, and so played to quiet myself while Aunt Matty
watched."
"And how is the dear Aunt Matty?" said the guest, coming toward me with
both hands extended. "Ah! Jessie Lee, you are a fortunate girl to have
so sweet a friend."
"I am fortunate in everything," said Jessie, turning her large, earnest
eyes on my face with a look of tenderness that went to my heart, "and
most of all here."
"And I," said Mrs. Dennison, with a suppressed breath, and a look of
graceful sadness. "Well, well, one can't expect everything."
Jessie laughed. This bit of sentiment in her guest rather amused her.
"Ah, you never will believe in sorrow of any kind, until it comes in
earnest," said the widow, with an entire change in her countenance; "but
I, who have seen it in so many forms, cannot always forget."
"But," said Jessie, with one of her caressing movements, "you must
forget it now. We are to be happy as the day is long while you are here.
Isn't that so, aunt? We have laid out such walks, and rides, and
pleasant evenings--of course, you have brought your habit."
"Of course. What would one be in the country without riding?"
"And your guitar? I want Aunt Matty to hear you sing. She never was with
us when you had an instrument."
"Oh! Aunt Matty shall have enough of that, I promise her; the man who
follows with my luggage has the guitar somewhere among his plunder."
"I'm very glad," said Jessie, smiling archly. "Now everything is
provided for except--"
"Except what, lady-bird?"
"Except that we have no gentlemen to admire you."
"No gentlemen!"
"Not a soul but papa."
The widow certainly looked a little disappointed for the first instant,
but she rallied before any eye less keen than mine could have observed
it, and laughed joyously.
"Thank heaven, we sha'n't be bothered with compliments, nor tormented
with adoration. Oh! Jessie Lee, Jessie Lee! I am so glad of a little
rest from all that sort of thing: a'n't you?"
"I never was persecuted with it like you, fair lady, remember that,"
replied Jessie, demurely.
"Hypocrite! don't attempt to deceive me; I had eyes at the sea-side."
"And very beautiful ones they were--everybody agreed in that."
"There it is!" cried the widow, lifting her hands in affected horror;
"when gentlemen are absent, ladies will flatter each other. Pray, put a
stop to this, Miss,----"
"Miss Hyde," I said, rather tired of these trivialities; "but Jessie, in
the eagerness of her welcome, forgets that our guest has scarcely time
to prepare for dinner."
"Ah! is it so late?" said Mrs. Dennison.
"Shall I show the way to your chamber?"
"We will all go," said Jessie, circling her friend's waist with her arm
and moving off.
We crossed the hall, a broad, open passage, furnished with easy-chairs
and sofas, for it was a favorite resort for the whole family, and opened
into a square balcony at one end, which commanded one of the heavenly
views I have spoken of. The widow stopped to admire it an instant, and
then we entered the room I had been careful to arrange pleasantly for
her reception.
It was a square, pleasant chamber, which commanded a splendid prospect
from the east; curtains like frostwork, and a bed like snow, harmonized
pleasantly with walls hung with satin paper of a delicate blue, and fine
India matting with which the floor was covered. We had placed vases and
baskets of flowers on the deep window-sills, those of the richest
fragrance we could find, which a soft, pure wind wafted through the
room; the couch, the easy-chair, and the low dressing-chair were draped
with delicate blue chintz, with a pattern of wild roses running over it.
Mrs. Dennison made a pretty exclamation of surprise as she entered the
room. She was full of these graceful flatteries, that proved the more
effective because of their seeming spontaneousness. She took off her
bonnet, and, sitting down before the toilet which stood beneath the
dressing-glass, a cloud of lace and embroidery, began to smooth her hair
between both hands, laughing at its disorder, and wondered if anybody
on earth ever looked so hideous as she did.
"This woman," I said, in uncharitable haste,--"this woman is insatiable.
She is not content with the flattery of one sex, but challenges it from
all." Yet, spite of myself, I could not resist the influence of her
sweet voice and graceful ways; she interested me far more than I wished.
"Now," said Jessie, coming into the hall with her eyes sparkling
pleasantly,--"now what do you think? Have I praised her too much? Are
you beginning to like her yet?"
I kissed her, but gave no other answer. A vague desire to shield her
from that woman's influence possessed me, but the feeling was misty, and
had no reasonable foundation. I could not have explained why this
impulse of protection sprung up in my heart, or how Jessie, the dear
girl, guessed at its existence.
But she was perfectly content with the approval which my kiss implied,
and went into the parlor to await the coming of her guest. That moment
Mrs. Lee's maid came down with a message from her mistress, and I went
up-stairs at once.