THE EVENING AFTER BOSWORTH'S PROPOSAL.
That evening Messrs. Lawrence and Bosworth came, according to some
previous engagement. I was a little surprised at this, but after awhile
saw that a generous and noble motive lay at the bottom of it all. Jessie
had besought Bosworth to remain her friend; he had promised, and thus
generously kept an engagement made before his proposal, and when it must
have been a painful sacrifice.
Nothing could be more delicate and lovely than Jessie's manner of
receiving him. She neither colored nor looked down, but came toward him
with a deprecating stoop of the whole person, while there was a depth of
sadness in her eyes that more than begged pardon for the wound she had
given.
Bosworth was grave, but very gentle in his reception of this kindness.
He moved toward a far end of the room, and they sat down together,
talking earnestly to each other.
Mr. Lee was in the room and watched them rather gravely, I thought; but
Mrs. Dennison, who was chatting merrily with Lawrence, called him to her
side, and after that he seemed to forget everything but her.
Being left to myself, I was crossing the room to go out, when Jessie
beckoned me to the sofa, where she was sitting.
"Ah! Miss Hyde," she said, earnestly, "try and persuade Mr. Bosworth to
give up his wild plan of going away."
"And have you really formed such an idea?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, striving to smile; "one cannot loiter forever in these
pleasant country places. I have been a dreamer too long."
"But not yet," I pleaded, answering the appeal in Jessie's eyes; "you
will not go in this unfriendly way."
"Unfriendly?" he repeated, glancing at Jessie. "No, I shall never do
that; never feel unfriendly toward any of you, Miss Hyde."
"But we cannot spare you, and I am quite sure Mrs. Dennison will be
heart-broken if--" I hesitated, conscious of the impropriety contained
in these impulsive words.
"Oh! Mrs. Dennison will never be quite heart-broken at anything, I
fancy," he replied, with a faint smile; "but if you really desire it, I
will not break up the arrangements of our guests. A few weeks more or
less need make little difference in a life-time."
Jessie brightened at this, and looked so gratefully on her rejected
lover, that he smiled, but very mournfully, as if reproaching her for
being so kindly and yet so firm.
Early in the evening, Mrs. Lee's little maid, Lottie, came into the
parlor, and after casting her bright eyes in every corner of the room,
went up to her master and whispered something. Mr. Lee arose and went
out. I beckoned Lottie, and asked if her mistress was worse?
"No, Miss Hyde, I can't say that she is, or that she isn't; because she
hasn't said a word about it. But she isn't asleep, and it seems lonesome
up there, within hearing of all the fun, and not know what it is about.
For how Mrs. Bab--how that lady's voice rings through the tower when she
laughs."
"Yes," said I, "she has a clear, sweet voice."
Lottie gave an almost imperceptible toss of the head.
"Besides," she said, drawing me aside, and speaking in a low voice,
"mistress can look right into the window where those people stand; I
don't know as she did, but I can."
"Well; could you discover more than we did, who are in the room,
Lottie?"
The toss of her head was defiant now, but she made no other reply,
except to whisper, "Mrs. Babylon is coming this way, and I'm off."
"Stop," I said; "did Mrs. Lee send for--for any of us?"
"Send? No; but she expected, and being all alone evenings is what she
isn't used to."
"I'll go up at once."
"There now, always flying off! It isn't you she wants."
"How do you know that, if she asked for no one in particular?"
"How do I know? Well, that's good! As if I didn't know the difference
between her wanting you and him! When she wants you, it's all quiet and
don't-care-much-about-it in her looks. When he ought to be there, and
isn't, something comes into her eyes that makes your heart ache. I never
saw it till lately; but that look is growing on her, and would more, if
it wasn't for me."
"Why, how can you prevent it, Lottie?"
"Well, in a good many ways, Miss Hyde. One of 'em is by nice little lies
that hurt nobody, but do her lots of good. I know just how he makes
bouquets, and when they don't come at the right time, I run down and
make up a bunch of flowers myself. I stole some pink and blue ribbons
from his room to tie 'em with. Oh! it's worth while to see her eyes
sparkle when I bring them in. Then I've studied his way of sending
compliments and messages. Don't pretend to be a genius like you that
write poetry."
"Lottie!"
"Oh! don't be frightened. I sha'n't bring you to disgrace about it. Made
up my mind to that from the first. You needn't get mad and blush so; I
ain't a genius, but I can make up stories in my head; and why not tell
'em to her? Why not, I say, when they please her? You should hear the
elegant messages I bring from Mr. Lee, at least four times a day. When
she gets a nice little dish for dinner, it gives her appetite to think
he ordered it; but the cook knows."
"But, Lottie, this is wrong."
"Wrong! Well, I like that, Miss Hyde."
"It isn't the truth, Lottie."
"The truth! Who said it was? As if I didn't know it was lying, and glory
in it!"
I could hardly keep my countenance. As for arguing a moral question with
Lottie, the thought was too ridiculous. She had her own ideas, and kept
to them without the slightest regard to those of other people.
While we were talking, Lottie had gradually edged herself out of the
room, and her last speech was delivered on the platform of the terrace.
Mrs. Lee's window was up, and I saw her husband enter the room with what
seemed to me a reluctant step. He sat down, and opened a book, as if to
read aloud. This had been his usual custom, but the last few evenings he
had spent in the drawing-room. I would have taken his place, but she
rejected my offer with one of those deep sighs that excite so much pity
when they come from an invalid.
"You talk against fibs, Miss Hyde; now what do you think of that? She
never would 'a' sent for him--died first, like a lamb starving in the
cold. Hist! there comes Mrs. Babylon and her private beau."
True enough, Mrs. Dennison and Lawrence had passed through one of the
drawing-room windows, and were slowly coming down the terrace platform,
which, as I have said, ran around one end and the back of the house. It
afforded a fine promenade, and they were enjoying the moonlight that
fell upon it. My attention was occupied by them a moment, during which
Lottie disappeared. The railing of this platform was lined with a rich
shrubbery of hot-house plants, lemon-trees, tall roses, and such
creeping vines as bear most choice blossoms. These cast heavy shadows,
and I fancy that the girl disappeared among them,--listening, perhaps,
being considered as one of the accomplishments which she devoted to the
benefit of her mistress.
When I went back to the drawing-room, Jessie was at the piano, and
Bosworth sat near, watching her sadly as she played. She did not attempt
to sing, and he offered no request of the kind. Altogether, it was a
gloomy evening. Really, I think this idea of turning love into
friendship is an absurd way of settling things. Throwing ashes on hot
embers only keeps the fire in more certain glow. Jessie was young, and
had no idea of prudence in such matters. I did not quite understand the
undercurrent of her nature, but, in my heart, thought it best that
Bosworth should leave the neighborhood.
The next morning I saw Lottie coming out of Mrs. Dennison's room,
looking demure as a house-cat.
"I've taught 'em how to do another braid," she said, innocently. "If
they tangle it, you know, I ain't to blame."