NEW VISITORS.
Mrs. Lee never went down to dinner, or, if she did, it was so rarely
that we looked upon her presence as a sort of holiday. She was very
dainty in her appetite, and on ordinary occasions was served by her own
maid, or of late by Lottie. I think she had rather intended to come down
that day in honor of our guest, but the illness that seized upon her
drove this idea from her mind; so, leaving her with Lottie, I went away
restless and unaccountably unhappy.
How bright and blooming they came in from the garden, bringing its
fragrance with them to the dinner-table! What a joyous, piquant
conversation it was, that commenced with the soup and sparkled with the
wine! There is no disputing it, our guest was a wonderful creature, her
graceful wit sparkled, her sentiment fascinated. She was calculated to
keep the man her beauty should win,--no doubt of that. Her conversation
charmed even me.
Jessie was constantly challenging admiration for her
friend--interrogating me with her eyes, and looking at her father to be
sure that he fully appreciated the brilliancy which filled her own heart
with a sort of adoration. But the widow seemed quite unconscious that
she was an object of special admiration to any one. Nothing could be
more natural than her manner. At times she was really child-like.
Still I did not like her. Why, it is useless to ask. Perhaps Mrs. Lee
had left an impression of her strange fancies on my mind,--perhaps the
atmosphere which surrounded her mingled with the subtile vitality of my
intelligence and gave me the truth.
We had music in the evening. Our Jessie possessed the purest of soprano
voices. Many a celebrated prima donna has won laurels from inferior
capacity. As in all other things, her musical education had been
perfect. Mrs. Dennison was her inferior in this. She performed
splendidly, and her rich contralto voice possessed many fine qualities;
but our birdie swept far above her, and soared away upon an ocean of
harmonies that seemed born of heaven.
The windows were open, and we knew that this heaven of sweet sounds
would float to the invalid's chamber. Indeed, when I went out upon the
platform, back of the house, I saw Mrs. Lee lying in her white, loose
dress, on the couch, as if the music had lulled her to sleep.
I think Mrs. Dennison was not quite satisfied with herself. The glorious
voice of our Jessie seemed to take her by surprise, for after the first
trial she refused to sing again, but still kept the piano, and dashed
through some fine opera music with spirit. Was she exhausting her
ill-humor in those stormy sounds?
On the next day, our young ladies rode on horseback. Both were superb
equestrians; and Mr. Lee's stately management of his coal-black horse
was something worth looking at. As they dashed round a curve of the
road, Jessie turned on her saddle and waved me a kiss, where I stood on
the square balcony watching them. What a happy, bright creature she
looked!
It took me by surprise; but when the equestrians came back, two
gentlemen had joined the party. One was young Bosworth, who had returned
to the old country place, a mile down the valley, directly after we
left Long Branch, and since then had managed to join our Jessie in her
rides oftener than any supposition of mere accident could warrant. The
dear girl seemed a little annoyed when these meetings became more
frequent; but she bore our joking on the subject pleasantly, and up to
that morning had, I fancy, given little thought to his movements. The
other man I recognized at once. It was Mr. Lawrence.
This gentleman rode up with Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison, who was evidently
dividing her fascinations very equally between the two gentlemen. Jessie
followed them with her cavalier, and I observed, as they dismounted,
that her cheeks were flushed, and her lips lightly curved, as if
something had disturbed her.
The gentlemen did not dismount, for Jessie left Mrs. Dennison on the
foot of the terrace-steps, and, without pausing to give an invitation,
ran into the house.
I left the balcony and went up to her chamber. She was walking to and
fro in the room, with a quick, proud step, the tears sparkling in her
eyes.
"What is it?" I said, going up to where she stood, and kissing her. "Who
has wounded you?"
"No one," she answered, and the proud tears flashed down to her cheek,
and lay there like rain-drops hanging on the leaves of the wild
rose,--"no one. Only, only--"
"Well, dear?"
"You were right, Aunt Matty. That man really had just the feelings you
suspected; I could hardly prevent him from expressing them broadly. Keep
as close to papa as I would, he found means to say things that made my
blood burn. What right has any man to talk of love to a girl, until she
has given him some sort of encouragement, I should like to know?"
"But perhaps he fancies that you have given him a little
encouragement."
"Encouragement! I? Indeed, Aunt Matty, I never dreamed of this until
now!"
"I am sure of it; but then you allowed him to join your rides, and
seemed rather pleased."
"Why, the idea that he meant anything never entered my mind. Ah! Aunt
Matty, haven't we said a thousand times that there must be some blame,
some coquetry on the lady's part, before a man, whom she is sure to
reject, could presume to offer himself?"
"But has he gone so far as that?" I asked.
"Let me think. Alas! I was so confused, so angry, that it is impossible
to remember just what he did say."
"But your answer?"
"Why, as to that," she cried, with a little nervous laugh, "I gave Flash
a cut with the whip and dashed on after the rest. Aunt Matty, upon my
word, I doubt if I spoke at all."
"My dear child, he may half imagine himself accepted then."
"Accepted! What can you mean?" she exclaimed, grasping her whip with
both hands and bending it double. "I shall go wild if you say that."
"Why, do you dislike him so much?"
"Dislike! no. What is there to dislike about him?"
"Well, then," I said, a little mischievously, "he is rather
good-looking, well educated, of irreproachable family, and rich."
"Don't, don't, Aunt Matty, or I shall hate you."
"Not quite so bad as that," I cried, kissing her hot cheek. "Now, let us
be serious. All young ladies must expect offers of this kind."
"But I don't want them. It distresses me."
I saw that she was in earnest, and that young Bosworth's attentions had
really distressed her. So, drawing her to a sofa, we sat down and talked
the matter over more quietly.
I told her that it was useless annoying herself; that, until the young
gentleman spoke out more definitely, she had nothing to torment herself
about; and when he did, a few quiet words would settle the whole matter.
"But can't we prevent him saying anything more? Or, if he does, will you
just tell him how it is?" she said, anxiously.
I could not help smiling; there was no affectation here. I knew very
well that Jessie would give the world to avoid this refusal; but in such
cases young ladies must take their own responsibilities: the
interference of third parties can only produce mischief.
She began to see the thing in its true light after a little, and talked
it over more calmly. Many a girl would have been delighted with this
homage to her charms; but Jessie was no common person, and she felt a
sort of degradation in inspiring a passion she could not return.
Besides, it placed upon her the necessity of giving pain where it was in
every way undeserved; and that she had never done in her life.
While we were talking, a light knock at the door heralded Mrs. Dennison.
There was nothing to call her to that part of the house, and her first
words conveyed an apology for the intrusion, for we both probably looked
a little surprised.
"I beg ten thousand pardons for rushing in upon you; but the gentlemen
are waiting in the road to know if they can join us to-morrow. I could
only answer for myself, you know."
"Let them join you," I whispered; "the sooner it is over with the
better."
Jessie stood up, gathered the long riding-skirt in one hand, while she
walked past her guest with the air of a princess, and stepped out on the
balcony, from which she made a gesture of invitation, which the two
gentlemen acknowledged with profound bows, and rode away.
"That's an angel!" exclaimed Mrs. Dennison, laying her hand on Jessie's
shoulder. "I almost thought something had gone wrong, by the way you
left us. Poor Mr. Bosworth was quite crestfallen."
Jessie made a little gesture of annoyance, which the widow was quick to
observe, and instantly changed the subject.