OH, WHICH IS LOVE?
March opened cold and stormy. Rheumatism made a clutch at M. de
Ronville. For several days he did not come downstairs, but insisted
that some of the guests must come to him. Dr. Langdale skipped away
from a lecture he really desired to hear, and spent an hour comforting
the invalid. Madame Clerval came in with a budget of news and friendly
gossip, and Daffodil talked of her little girlhood, and old Pittsburg,
as they had begun to call it, and sitting on the arm of
great-grandfather's chair, and listening to tales of a still older
time. He did not wonder that his friend Duvernay had lived to be
almost a hundred, with all that affection to make the way pleasant.
Then he improved and came downstairs, took up chess-playing, and
little promenades on the porch when the sun shone. And then the talk
veered round to Daffodil's departure. He would not hear anything about
it at first.
"Yet we have no right to keep her away from her own household, when
she has been brave enough to give up all the winter to us," Mr.
Bartram said.
"Oh, no, I suppose not. If I was younger, or in assured health, I
should go and spend the summer with them. Oh, don't look so startled.
I know it wouldn't do, with my uncertain health."
Aldis smiled. "If the summer is fine, and you keep pretty well, we
might both take a trip. I would hardly trust you to go alone."
"So we might." The elder was gratified with the consideration.
"Aldis?" presently, in a half-enquiring tone.
"Well?" glancing up.
"Do you think--that Dr. Langdale--that there is anything between him
and Daffodil?"
"There has been some talk. But young Pemberton is devoted to her as
well."
"With either she would have to come back here to live. I like the
doctor. He is such a fine, large-hearted, sympathetic young fellow,
with so much real charity for suffering. I seem to be envying other
people's sons and daughters;" ending with a longing sound. "Yes, if
she were in love with him."
Aldis Bartram experienced a feeling of protest. Yet, why should he
object? They were both young, they had been friends from childhood,
and he was certainly worthy of her.
That very evening he dropped in. There had been a wonderful surgical
operation on a poor fellow, who had been mashed and broken by a bad
fall. There had been a dispute at first, whether they could save him
intact, but after hours of the most careful work there was a good
chance. Dr. Langdale was so proud and enthusiastic, giving every one
his due with no narrowness.
Then he said, "Oh, Daffodil, are you really going home?"
"They have sent for me. The winter has gone!" and there was a piquant
smile hovering about her face.
"It has been such a short winter I have not done half the things I
planned to do. But I am resolved to run away some time in the summer.
It is ungrateful not to visit mother. And I do want to see the town,
and all the old friends."
"Oh, do come!" There was a joyous light in her eyes, and a sweetness
played about her lips.
Yes, he surely thought he would. Then they went on about other
matters. Bartram was not much versed in love indications, but
something rose within him--as if there should be a higher, stronger,
more overwhelming love for _her_.
She would make them talk cheerfully about her going. She said sagely
there was such a thing as wearing out one's welcome, and that now she
should feel free to come again.
"Next winter," said her guardian. "I think I can get along through the
summer with this thought to sustain me, but I shall be a year older,
and perhaps more feeble."
"I strictly forbid either of the consequences;" she laughed with
adorable gayety, her eyes alight with fun.
"One would think I was of great consequence," she exclaimed a few days
later, "by the lamentations my friends make. Or is it a fashion? It
will make it harder for me to go. If we could move Pittsburg over! But
there are the splendid rivers, and the hills covered with
rhododendrons. And, you see, I shall miss the daffodils."
"If it is such sorrow to part with one, I hardly know how you can
endure losing so many," said Aldis Bartram gravely.
She looked at him enquiringly. He seldom paid compliments to any one
but Madame Clerval.
There were bloom and beauty enough in the grand old town, where every
point was romantic. Every day Daffodil and her guardian were out
driving, until it seemed to her she could have found her way about in
the dark. And in his office Aldis Bartram sat thinking how lonely the
house would be without the sunshine of her golden head, and the sound
of her sweet, merry voice, her small, thoughtful ways, and the ease
with which she could change from one mode of action that she saw was
not bringing about a desirable result. At first he considered this a
sort of frivolity, but he understood presently that she not
infrequently gave up her own pleasure or method for something that
suited M. de Ronville better.
He was ambitious, and he had marked out a career for himself. He meant
to be rich and respected, his instincts were all honorable, and this
had commended him to his employer, who detested anything bordering on
double dealing. So, from one position he had been advanced to another,
and by persistent study had taken his degree with honor. He enjoyed
the life of the class with which he was in keen touch, and he found he
could maintain a degree of mental superiority that satisfied his
ambition.
There had been a partnership; he was junior counsel, and some of the
clients preferred the young, broad-minded man. Then had come the
proffer of a home that really surprised him. There were no relatives
to be jealous; why, then, should he not be as a son to this man, who
no longer felt equal to the burthen and heat of the new day that had
dawned on the country, and was calling forth the highest aims and
energies of the men of the time?
There had been one intense fascination in his life that had turned to
the ashes of bitterness. And now, while he was affable and enjoyed the
society of women, he considered himself proof against their
blandishments. He had heard of Daffodil's interrupted marriage, and
gave her a very sincere sympathy. But he had not been warmly in favor
of her visit. Still, it seemed cruel and selfish not to agree to the
longing of the invalid, who had an obstinate idea that his days were
numbered. A pet and play-thing was perhaps what he needed, for
sometimes the devotion exacted bored him and seemed a painful waste of
time and energy.
Then M. de Ronville saw the necessity of arranging his guardianship of
Daffodil Carrick on a different basis, so that there might be no
trouble at his death. Her father might not understand all the fine
points, and need some legal aid. This had brought about the visit to
Pittsburg, and he had joined his solicitation to that of the guardian,
truly believing M. de Ronville's days were numbered, and he did
fervently desire to give him whatever happiness and comfort was
possible.
But Daffodil was different from the vague idea he had formed of her.
She was not a sentimental girl, even if she had been caught by a
specious love, and though gay and eager, had a tender, truthful, and
noble side to her nature. They were all of a higher class than he had
thought possible, and Felix he considered quite an unusual boy. Mr.
Carrick had made one brief explanation of the marriage, none of the
others alluded to it.
"But you know that the law holds her as an unmarried woman. There was
nothing binding in the vows on her side, and pure fraud on his," said
Bartram decisively.
"Yes, we are aware of that, but young as she is, it has changed her in
some respects. But she is dearer than ever to us. I deprecate this
fashion of such youthful marriages, though mine has been very happy,"
returned the father.
Dr. Langdale came in one morning with a face full of the highest
satisfaction. Bartram had been lingering about, discussing the
journey. Madame Clerval had offered one of her French maids, but she
knew so little of American ways.
"Daffodil," the doctor exclaimed, "will you take me for an escort? I
find there is nothing very important for the next few weeks. I have
but one more lecture in my course. And I do want to see mother. So, if
you have no objection----"
"Why, I should be delighted, though I begin to feel quite like a wise
and travelled body. And think how women are coming from abroad and
from Canada, and going West, and all over, and reach their destination
safely. But I shall be very glad all the same, and your mother will be
wild with joy."
"I am afraid we do not think of the pleasure we can give our elders,
who, in the nature of things, have less time for the enjoyment of
their children. And I feel ashamed that I have allowed the time to
slip by, content with a hurried letter. I mean to do better in the
future."
"And I applaud your decision," exclaimed M. de Ronville. "Oh, I think
you young people really do not know how much happiness you can give us
elders just by the sight of your happy faces, and a little cordial
attention."
Daffodil glanced at Dr. Langdale with a smile that seemed almost a
caress, it was so approving, enchanting. Aldis Bartram caught it and
turned away, saying--
"I must leave you to perfect arrangements. I am late now, so I must
wish you good-morning," bowing himself out of the room.
He was very busy, and did not go home to dinner, as he had been doing
of late. And it was not until he was walking home in the late
afternoon that he allowed himself to think of Daffodil's departure.
"She will marry Dr. Langdale and come back here to live, which will be
a great pleasure to M. de Ronville," he said to himself, remembering
it had his friend's approval. And why should it not have his? Yet he
felt as if he did not cordially assent. And if she returned next
winter--he lost a sudden interest in the plan. They would be lovers
and there would be their joy and satisfaction flaunted in everybody's
face.
How could Daffodil keep so bright and cheerful? Had she any real
depth? Did not every change, every new plan appeal to her just the
same?
But if he had seen her with her arms about Mrs. Jarvis' neck, and the
tears in her eyes, he would not have made the comment to himself. And
the tender, beseeching tone in which she was saying--
"Oh, you will not let him miss me too much. And when it is pleasant,
won't you walk about the garden with him and praise his roses and the
flowers he cares for? And keep him thinking that he is better, and has
years yet to live, and if Mr. Bartram will go on being devoted to
him."
"Mr. Bartram seems to have grown more tenderly thoughtful. Of course,
he has a great deal on his mind, and now there are so many perplexing
questions about the country, and when one is tired out with the day's
work it is hard to rehearse it all over. Oh, my dear, I think you have
worked a change in us all with your sweet, generous ways, and your
lovely outflowing youth. I am afraid I was beginning to think too much
of my own comfort."
Dr. Langdale proved himself most solicitous. Bartram found the
planning was taken quite out of his hands, and he chafed a little.
Madame Clerval declared herself inconsolable, but she had the fine
grace that speeds the parting guest when the going is inevitable.
There was only one day more. M. de Ronville had his breakfast sent
upstairs. Daffodil went to find some papers her guardian was going
over, and turning, she met Aldis Bartram entering the library.
"I was afraid you might forget them," she said, handing the packet to
him.
"Thank you." How often she had charged her mind with these little
things.
"I suppose," he began in a wandering sort of tone, as if his mind had
strayed to something else, "that it will not really be out of order to
congratulate you, since it will be a long while before I shall see you
again."
"Oh, about going home? But I shall often think of you all here, and
wish the old fairy stories were true, where you could be transported
elsewhere in a moment. I think I did truly believe in them once."
How charming she was in that absolute simplicity, the exquisite,
innocent, glowing face too frank for concealment. He had no business
to probe her secret, and yet he must know.
"Oh, I meant, you will not come back to us the same. You will have
learned the lesson of love, and I hope--you will be very happy."
"I don't understand"--a puzzled line settling in her fair brow. "Oh!"
suddenly relieved, and then half smiling, "did you think," and then
her face crimsoned to its utmost capacity, "that I, that Dr.
Langdale--it is a mistake. We were dear friends in childhood, we are
warm friends now. For, you see, he has been like a little bit of
Pittsburg to me, and sometimes, when I was longing for the dear ones
at home, it was comforting to talk them over. And he has no thought of
marrying in a long, long while. He means to do so much first."
Was she a finished coquette by the grace of nature? Young men were not
given to consideration of this or that when the bewildering passion
seized them. But coquette or not, a sharp, overmastering knowledge
seized him. Once she had advised him to marry and bring in the
household a charming girl. She recognized that his duty would be to M.
de Ronville while he lived. He knew that, too, if he would not prove
himself an ingrate. And here was the charming girl.
He looked at her so long and steadily that there came faint colors in
her face, growing deeper, the lines about her mouth showed tremors,
the bronze-fringed lids drooped over her eyes, and she turned away.
But the delicious half-bashful movement set his pulses aflame.
"Daffodil," and he caught her hand, "if there is no other among these
young men, or even at home, may I not sue for a little favor? I know
it surprises you; then perhaps I am too old to win a young girl's
regard, love I mean----"
"Oh, you must not," she interrupted. "For I think you hardly like
me--you did not at first. And then, I--well--I do not mean to marry.
You know there was the----"
"Which simply has no weight in your life."
"But you see, I thought I loved him. Oh, I _did_ love him. And I was
so happy. Why, I would have gone to the end of the world with him!
Only when one deceives you, when one dares not tell the whole truth,
and when one cannot, does not want to give up wealth and station, what
was love is some way crushed out. But how could I tell if any new love
was the right thing? I might be mistaken again. And there are fickle
women in the world I have heard, who can love many times. I don't
desire to be one of them. Maybe it is only friendship I am fitted
for."
She was trembling in every pulse, though she had made such a brave
defence. And she seemed to him a hundred times sweeter than she ever
had before. He had much ado not to clasp her to his heart. "My dear
little Daffodil," he said with passionate tenderness, "though you have
been wooed and said marriage vows, you know nothing about a true and
fervent love. That was not much beyond a child's fancy, and you have
overlived it, or you could not be so light-hearted. It is only a dream
in your life. And I will wait until the woman's soul in you wakes. But
I shall not let you go from my influence, I shall keep watch and ward,
and try to win you."
"No, no, I am not worth all that trouble. No, do not try," she
pleaded.
"I shall take your earlier advice. You said I must marry some charming
girl and bring her here. No other girl or woman could satisfy M. de
Ronville as well."
"Did I advise you to do that?" and she blushed daintily. "Well," and
there was a glint of mischief in her eyes, soft as they were, "once I
was offered to you, and you declined."
"Offered to me?" in surprise.
"When I was here before. It was in this very library. I was outside,
and when I knew who was meant I ran away."
"Oh, you were such a child then! And I was doing something that I have
always despised myself for. I knew a beautiful and fascinating woman,
who led me to believe she cared a great deal for me. And then she
laughed at my folly. I deserved it for my blindness. So you see, I too
had a rude awakening, and found that it was not love, but a mere sham.
I believe for a month or so I have been trying _not_ to love you,
shutting my eyes to a longing that stirred all my nature. And now that
I have admitted it, it has taken a giant's growth in a few hours. I
will wait until you can give me the true, sincere regard of your soul.
But I could not let you go until I had settled whether I had any
ground for hope. Shall we be friends, dear and fond friends, until
that time? But I want to be loved sincerely, deeply."
She stood like a lovely culprit before him, and then he did enfold her
in his arms, and pressed his lips against her blushing cheek.
"Oh, I cannot tell--yes, I like you--and you will be good to _him_
while I am gone. But it is new and strange to me, and I cannot
promise."
"But there is no one else--tell me that."
"There is no one else. But whether--I can love again;" and there was a
great tremble in her voice, "whether it would be right."
"Oh, little innocent, you will find the right and the truth some day,
I feel assured of that. I can trust you to tell me by word or sign
when that day comes, for I know you will be honest. And now I must go,
but I take with me a joy that will make glad the days and weeks of
separation. Oh, my little darling!"
He went out of the house with a proud tread. He would never pause
until he had won her. His soul was startled and roused by the sudden
revelation of himself. He had supposed he should marry sometime, after
his duty was done here, for he could not imagine a woman broad enough
to share it with him. And here an angel had touched him with her fine
beneficence, and shown him the duty in a stronger, truer light.
There was not much time for the ardent side of love, though Aldis
Bartram had to fight with himself for a show of mere friendliness. She
was to go at ten the next morning, and friends came to escort her.
"And I shall stay and help our good friend to bear the trial of
parting," declared Madame Clerval. "We will talk over your virtues and
your shortcomings, the lovers you might have had if you had been an
astute young woman, and try to shed some sunshine on the doleful days
until next winter."
There was the maid with some budgets, there was Dr. Langdale, proud
and serene enough for a lover, and it did rouse a spasm of jealousy in
the soul of Aldis Bartram. But he knew she was truth itself, and he
could depend upon her.