HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE
Rest, and the sunny light and bracing air of the following morning,
banished much of Gregory's moodiness, and he descended the stairs
proposing to dismiss painful thoughts and get what comfort and
semblance of enjoyment he could out of the passing hours. Mr. Walton
met him cordially--indeed with almost fatherly solicitude--and led him
at once to the dining-room, where an inviting breakfast awaited them.
Miss Walton also was genial, and introduced Miss Eulalia Morton, a
maiden sister of her mother. Miss Eulie, as she was familiarly called,
was a pale, delicate little lady, with a face sweetened rather than
hardened and imbittered by time. If, as some believe, the flesh and the
spirit, the soul and the body, are ever at variance, she gave the
impression at first glance that the body was getting the worst of the
conflict. But in truth the faintest thoughts of strife seemed to have
no association with her whatever. She appeared so light and aerial that
one could imagine her flying over the rough places of life, and
vanishing when any one opposed her.
Miss Walton reversed all this, for she was decidedly substantial. She
was of only medium height, but a fine figure made her appear taller
than she was. She immediately gave the impression of power and reserve
force. You felt this in her quick, elastic step, saw it in her decided
though not abrupt movements, and heard it in her tone. Even the
nonchalant Mr. Gregory could not ignore her in his customary polite
manner, though quiet refinement and peculiar unobtrusiveness seemed her
characteristics. She won attention, not because she sought it, nor on
the ground of eccentricities, but because of her intense vitality. From
her dark eyes a close observer might catch glimpses of a quick, active
mind, an eager spirit, and--well, perhaps a passionate temper. Though
chastened and subdued, she ever gave the impression of power to those
who came to know her well. In certain ways, as they interpreted her,
people acknowledged this force of character. Some spoke of her as very
lively, others as exceedingly energetic and willing to enter on any
good work. Some thought her ambitious, else why was she so prominent in
church matters, and so ready to visit the sick and poor? They could
explain this in but one way. And some looked knowingly at each other
and said: "I wonder if she is always as smiling and sweet as when in
society;" and then followed shaking of heads which intimated, "Look out
for sudden gusts."
Again, as in simple morning wrapper she turned to greet Gregory, she
gave him the impression of something like beauty. But his taste,
rendered critical by much observation both at home and abroad, at once
told him that he was mistaken.
"The expression is well enough," he thought, "but she has not a single
perfect feature--not one that an artist would copy, except perhaps the
eyes, and even they are not soft and Madonna-like."
He had a sybarite's eye for beauty, and an intense admiration for it.
At the same time he was too intellectual to be satisfied with the mere
sensuous type. And yet, when he decided that a woman was not pretty,
she ceased to interest him. His exacting taste required no small degree
of outward perfection crowned by ready wit and society polish. With
those so endowed he had frequently amused himself in New York and Paris
by a passing flirtation since the politic Miss Bently had made him a
sceptic in regard to women. All his intercourse with society had
confirmed his cynicism. The most beautiful and brilliant in the
drawing-rooms were seldom the best. He flattered them to their faces
and sneered at them in his heart. Therefore his attentions were merely
of a nature to excite their vanity, stimulated by much incense from
other sources. He saw this plainly manifested trait, which he
contributed to develop, and despised it. He also saw that many were as
eager for a good match as ever the adored Miss Bently had been, and
that, while they liked his compliments, they cared not for him. Why
should they? Insincere and selfish himself, why should he expect to
awaken better feelings on the part of those who were anything but
unsophisticated, and from knowledge of the world could gauge him at his
true worth? Not even a sentimental girl would show her heart to such a
man. And yet with the blind egotism of selfishness he smiled grimly at
their apparent heartlessness and said, "Such is woman."
At the same time it must in justice be said that he despised men in
general quite as sincerely. "Human nature is wretched stuff," had come
to be the first article in his creed.
In regard to Miss Walton he concluded: "She is a goodish girl, more of
a lady than the average, pious and orthodox, an excellent housekeeper,
and a great comfort to her father, no doubt. She is safe from her very
plainness, though confident, of course, that she could resist
temptation and be a saint under all circumstances;" and he dismissed
her from his mind with a sort of inward groan and protest against the
necessity of making himself agreeable to her during his visit.
He did not think it worth while to disguise his face as he made these
brief critical observations, and quick-witted Annie gathered something
of the drift of his thoughts, as she stole a few glances at him from
behind the coffee-urn. It piqued her pride a little, and she was
disappointed in him, for she had hoped for a pleasant addition to their
society for a time. But she was so supremely indifferent to him, and
had so much to fill her thoughts and days, that his slight promise to
prove an agreeable visitor caused but momentary annoyance. Yet the
glimmer of a smile flitted across her face as she thought: "He may find
himself slightly mistaken in me, after all. His face seems to say, 'No
doubt she is a good young woman, and well enough for this slow country
place, but she has no beauty, no style.' I think I can manage to
disturb the even current of his vanity, if his visit is long enough,
and he shall learn at least that I shall not gape admiringly at his
artificial metropolitan airs."
Her manner toward Gregory remained full of kindness and grace, but she
made no effort to secure his attention and engage him in conversation,
as he had feared she would do. She acted as if she were accustomed to
see such persons as himself at her father's breakfast-table every
morning; and, though habitually wrapped up in his own personality, he
soon became dimly conscious that her course toward him was not what he
had expected.
Miss Eulie was all solicitude in view of his character of invalid; and
the children looked at him with curious eyes and growing
disapprobation. There was nothing in him to secure their instinctive
friendship, and he made no effort to win their sympathies.
The morning meal began with a reverent looking to heaven for God's
blessing on the gifts which were acknowledged as coming from Him; and
even Gregory was compelled to admit that the brief rite did not appear
like a careless signing of the cross, or a shrivelled form from which
spirit and meaning had departed, but a sincere expression of loving
trust and gratitude.
During the greater part of the meal, Mr. Walton dwelt on the
circumstances that had led to his friendship with Gregory's father, but
at last the conversation flagged a little, since the young man made so
slight effort to maintain it.
Suddenly Mr. Walton turned to his daughter and said, "By the way,
Annie, you have not told me where you found Mr. Gregory, for my
impression is that you brought him down from the hills."
"I was about to say that I found him in a chestnut burr," replied
Annie, with a twinkle in her eye. "At least I found a stranger by the
cedar thicket, and he proved from a chestnut burr who he was, and his
right to acquaintance, with a better logic than I supposed him capable
of."
"Indeed?" asked Gregory, quickly, feeling the prick of her last words;
"on what grounds were you led to estimate my logic so slightingly?"
"On merely general grounds; but you see I am open to all evidence in
your favor. City life no doubt has great advantages, but it also has
greater drawbacks."
"What are they?"
"I cannot think of them all now. Suffice it to say that if you had
always lived in the city you could not have interpreted a chestnut burr
so gracefully. Many there seem to forget Nature's lore."
"But may they not learn other things more valuable?"
Miss Walton shook her head, and said, with a laugh: "An ignorant
exhorter once stated to his little schoolhouse audience that Paul was
brought up at the foot of the hill Gamaliel. I almost wish he were
right, for I should have had more confidence in the teachings of the
hill than in those of the narrow-minded Jewish Rabbi."
"And yet you regard Paul as the very chief of the apostles."
"He became such after he was taught of Him who teaches through the
hills and nature generally."
"My daughter is an enthusiast for nature," remarked Mr. Walton.
"If the people are the same as when I was here a boy, the hills have
not taught the majority very much," said Gregory, with a French shrug.
"Many of them have a better wisdom than you think," answered Annie,
quietly.
"In what does it consist?"
"Well, for one thing they know how to enjoy life and add to the
enjoyment of others."
Gregory looked at her keenly for a moment, but saw nothing to lead him
to think that she was speaking on other than general principles; but he
said, a little moodily, as they rose from the table, "That certainly is
a better wisdom than is usually attained in either city or country."
"It is not our custom to make company of our friends," said Mr. Walton,
cordially. "We hope you will feel completely at home, and come and go
as you like, and do just what you find agreeable. We dine at two, and
have an early supper on account of the children. There are one or two
fair saddle horses on the place, but if you do not feel strong enough
to ride, Annie can drive you out, and I assure you she is at home in
the management of a horse."
"Yes, indeed," echoed the little boy. "Aunt Annie can manage anything
or anybody."
"That is a remarkable power," said Gregory, with an amused look and a
side glance at the young girl. "How does she do it?"
"Oh, I don't know," replied the boy; "she makes them love her, and then
they want to do as she says."
A momentary wrathful gleam shot from Annie's eyes at her indiscreet
little champion, but with heightened color she joined in the laugh that
followed.
Gregory had the ill grace to say with a sort of mocking gallantry, as
he bowed himself out, "It must be delightful to be managed on such
terms."