One day, as Dexie was going to the post office, she met Miss Taylor, and
the memory of the adventure in the snowstorm with Lancy and Elsie rose
vividly before her mind as she grasped the outstretched hand in friendly
greeting.
"I am in such a dilemma, Miss Sherwood!" she exclaimed. "I drove into
Halifax with a neighbor, and he was to meet me an hour ago; but I have
discovered that his usual absent-mindedness has caused him to forget all
about me. I am at my wit's end, for mother will be alarmed at my absence."
"Come home with me, Miss Taylor. Oh! you must," as a refusal rose to her
lips, "and if you really _must_ return home to-night, it can easily be
managed, I know."
After much persuasion, Miss Taylor accompanied Dexie home; and as she
explained the necessity of returning that night, Mrs. Gurney told Lancy to
order the horse and buggy and drive her out.
Lancy seconded Miss Taylor's request that Dexie should drive out with them,
and the gay little party reached the Taylor homestead about sundown,
greatly to the surprise and relief of Mrs. Taylor, who feared that Susan
might try and walk the distance rather than miss the evening's festivities;
for there was to be a marriage in the family that night, and Susan had been
obliged to hasten to the city for some necessary trifles that had been
forgotten until the last moment. Lancy and Dexie stayed until after the
ceremony, but, having a long drive before them, declined the kind
invitation to linger.
As they drove homewards the conversation turned on the intending departure
of the family from Halifax.
"I have been waiting for a chance to have a good talk with you, Dexie, ever
since I heard you were going away; but there has been so much going on that
I never seem to see you alone a minute. Are you sorry to go, Dexie?"
"Yes, indeed I am. I have found Halifax so pleasant that I shall always
regret leaving it."
"But you are coming back sometime, you know, Dexie? I am sure you know I am
constantly looking forward to the time when you will be my wife. We
understand each other, do we not?"
"Well, I am not sure that we do, Lancy. I doubt if we look at things in the
same light," and she gave a quick glance into the face that was regarding
her so earnestly.
"But you know how much I care for you--that I love you, Dexie?" he said,
taking her hand. "You have never told me you cared for me in so many words,
Dexie, but I am sure you do. They are all pleased with the idea at home,
and father has promised to take me into partnership the first of the year.
Until then I shall not know just how much of an income I shall have, but I
know it will be enough for us to live on quite comfortably; and we could
live in the part of the house that you occupy now. But you have not said
the word yet that will bind us. Will you be my wife, Dexie?"
"Lancy, I will be honest and plain-spoken; then there will be no
misunderstanding. Of course, I care a good deal for you, but I really do
not believe I love you as a woman should love the man she marries; and you
may meet the one who will give you that love some day, then you will be
sorry you put that question to me. Honestly, Lancy, although we have cared
very much for each other's society, I don't believe we would be half as
happy together as man and wife as we are now. I can't imagine myself living
with you day after day, and performing the little daily services for you
that come so naturally from your mother, and which goes to make your
father's life so comfortable and happy."
"Why need you pattern your future life after that of my mother; your mother
does not--" Lancy paused in embarrassment.
"Oh! you need not mind saying it to me; it is only between ourselves. You
want to say that my mother does not put herself out to do much for the
happiness of the rest of us."
"No, I was not intending to go so far as that, Dexie."
"Well, I hope when I get married that I shall care enough for my husband to
feel like exerting myself a little towards making the house comfortable. I
want a happier married life than I see at home. I suppose we all have our
ideals, but I would sooner take your mother for an example of what a wife
should be, rather than mine."
"I believe you and I would live very happily together, Dexie; if you cared
for me as much as I care for you, there would be no trouble," and he
pressed the hand he held in his.
"Oh! I daresay we might get along quite _passably_, Lancy; but that doesn't
seem to me enough, and I do not want to be bound by a promise which, in the
future, we might both wish was never made."
"Dexie, I never thought you would put me off like this," said Lancy, in a
wounded tone "You have known all this time how much I care for you, and how
it was to end, and yet you think I may fall in love with someone else when
you have gone away. How can you think such a thing?"
"I have no cause to think so, Lancy, for indeed you have been most kind to
me all along; but I cannot help thinking that you may meet someone else who
would suit you better, and yet you would feel bound to me if a promise was
made between us. Let me go away free, Lancy, and if by the time you are
ready to take a wife you find your feelings the same as they are now, ask
me your question again; perhaps I will know my own mind by that time, for I
must confess I hardly do at present."
"I will never change; but you--you want to leave the way open for yourself,
and I thought you cared for me, Dexie."
Dexie felt hurt at his reproachful tone, but she put her hand across his,
saying: "Lancy, don't be silly, for I do care for you. I do not know any
other person, outside my own family, that I like so well as I do you. Now,
will that admission satisfy you? But do not ask a promise from me for a
year; give me even six months; by that time we will know whether we are
necessary to each other's happiness or not."
"Very well, Dexie, but I shall feel that you are mine, even though you have
not given me your promise; so do not let any romantic notions run away with
you when I am not near to watch you."
"But, Lancy," said she, laughing, "supposing I should happen to meet some
person who inspired me with love such as one reads of in story books, would
you care to have me for a wife if my heart were not in the bargain?"
"No, Dexie, I hope you are supposing impossible things. Would you break my
heart?"
"Hearts don't break, Lancy," she said, smiling; "they may ache, but I doubt
if they ever break."
"Dexie, you make my heart ache already. I have planned and hoped so much,
and you give me so little to build on, after all. Is it fair to trifle with
me like this?"
There was a few minutes' silence, then Dexie said:
"Lancy, think a minute. Have I ever been guilty of trifling with anyone's
feelings? Have I not been open and outspoken to you in everything? I am
afraid, Lancy, this very fact has made you think that I care for you more
than I really do, but I think that too many young girls jump into matrimony
with their eyes blindfolded, and I do not intend to add to the number.
There is plenty of time to settle the question, when I know that I really
love you. It would not be honest to deceive you in this, Lancy."
"My Dexie, you could not deceive me if you tried. I am perfectly content
with the love you have for me already, without waiting for the romantic
passion which some story-writers consider necessary before a marriage
should take place. But your answer has disappointed me, Dexie, for I
expected to present you to mother, on our return, as my promised wife.
Indeed I was so sure you would not refuse me, I prepared myself with this,"
and he took from his pocket a little casket containing a handsome
engagement ring.
"Lancy, how could you?" The words seemed to come from the depths of her
heart.
"Do let me put it on your finger, Dexie. Think what happiness you will give
me by wearing it."
"Lancy, I want to please you, really I do, but don't ask me to put it on. I
always think a ring binds the person receiving it the same as it binds the
finger, and, once on, is almost a sacred thing; and feeling as I do, I
don't want to wear it lightly. Lancy, can't you trust me for six months
without a reminder?"
"Yes, but I wish you would wear it as a 'sign between me and thee'; do not
refuse me this, Dexie."
"Let me wear it on my chain, then, and I will take it," and she drew from
her neck a fine gold chain with a pretty charm attached. Detaching the
latter, she held it to him, saying:
"This is my one treasure, Lancy, take it in exchange; if ever you care for
another more than for me, send it back to me. I will wear your ring in its
place on the same conditions," and she clasped the chain around her neck
again, hiding the ring in her bosom.
Lancy placed the precious token in an inside pocket containing some other
treasures, and Dexie blushed as she recognized them as some trifles of her
own.
"I think I can claim that glove," said she, laughing as Lancy tucked the
little parcel in his pocket. "I have missed it for some time."
"You shall have it when the hand is mine that fits it," said he with a
bright smile, as he raised her hand to his lips. "I wonder if you realize
how much I shall miss you, Dexie. The only ray of comfort I can see is the
thought of the pleasure your letters will give me; only for that I would go
melancholy, like Hugh."
"Lancy, don't joke about Hugh; I can't bear it. I was so startled when I
saw him out last Sunday. He looked so pale and thin I could hardly believe
it was he. Does he ever mention my name, Lancy?"
"Never; but if anyone happens to bring it up in connection with anything,
he seems that eager to hear every word, that I can't help feeling sorry for
him. Be careful and don't make me your second victim."
"I do not believe I am responsible for Hugh's condition, and it is not fair
for you to speak as if I was; but now he is able to be about, I am in
constant terror lest he will corner me sometime and renew his attack. That
is the only thing that makes me feel glad that I am leaving Halifax. I am
afraid I could not bear such another scare as he gave me that day in the
boat."
"I will make it known to him in some way that you are to be my wife; and
when he hears it, I am sure he will never trouble you again. When
everything is settled, I will go and claim you; and I fancy Hugh will not
stay in Halifax when we are married. How soon do you think you will be
going away?"
"Sometime within a month. Papa is weatherwise, and thinks the winter will
set in early, so is anxious to hasten our departure."
A few evenings later, there was a small family party at Mrs. Beverly's, to
which Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood and the twin girls were invited. Cora and Elsie
Gurney were also going with Lancy and Hugh. This being the first time Hugh
was able to appear at such a gathering, he was building many air-castles in
connection with it, for he would there meet Dexie for the first time since
his illness. He had made inquiries as to whether Dexie would be present,
and being assured that she intended going, he looked forward to the meeting
with a pleasure that was not unmixed with pain.
But when Dexie heard that Hugh intended going, and had been asking about
her intentions also, she thought she would give it up; yet considering that
she must of necessity meet him sooner or later, she thought it would be
wiser to do so among a number of people.
Everything seemed to go wrong with Gussie that day. She had heard by some
chance that Dexie and Lancy were really engaged, and as Dexie would neither
admit nor deny the fact, she felt exasperated almost to madness.
As the day wore on, Gussie's incessant bickerings became unbearable, and
among other things she charged Dexie with the most heartless behavior in
regard to Hugh, until she could not bear the thought of meeting him, so she
silently decided to remain at home, but to say nothing about her decision
until the last moment; consequently, no one had a chance to tell Hugh that
Dexie had changed her mind.
When the guests were assembled in the commodious parlors, Hugh searched in
vain among the different groups for a trace of the face he was so anxious
to see. Once he gave a start as a face turned towards him--a face that
seemed to belong to the form he was seeking--but when the sound of the
voice reached his ears he turned in disgust, for it was only Nina Gordon.
Later on he learned from Gussie that Dexie had turned "sulky" at the last
moment and refused to come. His face lighted up at the information, and
Gussie never knew that her news sent him to make excuses and adieus to his
hostess, and drove him homeward at a pace that seemed unnecessary, seeing
that he had so much leisure time at his command.
Dexie had gone to the parlor to get a book, and stepping to the bow window
to draw the curtains, saw his well-known figure hurrying down the street.
"Goodness! here is Hugh coming back! What has happened, I wonder?"
It took her but a moment to fasten the hall-door, and running to the
kitchen, said:
"Nancy, if anyone calls, do not admit them to-night. You can say the family
are out. I am going to the upper hall to finish my book." Then, laying her
hand on Nancy's arm, she said in a low tone: "Don't let Hugh McNeil come in
to-night, Nancy. I have fastened the front door, so he can't come in unless
you let him."
"Rest easy, missie; you shan't be troubled if you don't like. But I mind he
is off to the party with the rest."
"I have seen him coming back, so I wanted to warn you."
"All right, then. Ye have had a hard day, missie; run off with yer book.
It's meself that will see ye are not troubled the night by anybody."
Nancy had been in the family long enough to know something of their
affairs, and she took quite an interest in the doings of her favorite. She
saw more than she let anyone suppose, and her apparent stupidity was often
put on as a "blind."
With a book as a companion, Dexie was soon in her favorite retreat, for she
had one cosy little corner which no one cared to dispute with her. The
recess at the end of the upper hall she had curtained off, and besides the
few blooming plants on the wide window-sill it held an old-fashioned but
comfortable sofa, a big chair and a tiny table. It was here Dexie made up
her housekeeping accounts, and performed such other duties as she could
bring to her snug little corner. It was the one spot in the house which she
claimed as her own.
She had no sooner seated herself to read than the sound of the door-bell
echoed through the house. It was several times repeated before Nancy
appeared to answer the summons, and Dexie's heart seemed to leap up in her
throat as she recognized Hugh's voice. But Nancy remembered the injunctions
given her, and refused admittance, saying decidedly that the family were
out; and when Hugh reminded her that Miss Dexie was at home, Nancy boldly
said that Miss Dexie was not going to be disturbed by anybody. Dexie gave a
sigh of relief as she heard the door shut and Hugh's step on the pavement
below. She turned to her book and was soon lost to all outside influences
in her sympathy for the heroine of the story, when a slight movement of the
curtain caused her to look up. The book dropped from her fingers and she
staggered to her feet, her face white, even to her lips. Terror seemed to
rob her of all power to move or speak, as she gazed into the face before
her that was almost as colorless as her own.
With a quick movement Hugh dropped the curtain behind him and came forward
with outstretched hands.
"You cannot keep me away, Dexie. You refused to let me in at the door, but
you forgot the secret passage in the attic. My darling! I did not intend to
frighten you!" noticing for the first time how terrified she looked. "I
only came to ask your forgiveness."
He reached out his hands to catch her, but he was too late, for, as he
spoke, she fell in a heap on the floor in a dead faint. With trembling
hands Hugh lifted the unconscious form to the little sofa, and kneeling
beside her bent over her, chaffing her hands and calling her by all the
tender names which he had only dared to give her in his heart; and the
pent-up emotions of weeks found relief in a shower of kisses, which rained
on the upturned face and ruffled hair that framed it like a glory. It was
very wrong of him, to be sure; but the man who is famishing, and who steals
the loaf that will put life into his starving body, should not be severely
dealt with, and Hugh's hungry heart was sadly in need of some satisfying
food.
Dexie's faint lasted so long that Hugh began to feel alarmed, yet he could
not think of calling to Nancy for help. Not for anything would he have her
know that he had dared to enter the house in this clandestine manner, and
he knew Dexie would feel vexed enough if anyone should find him there with
her; so he hastily opened the nearest chamber door, and securing the
water-pitcher on the stand, he bathed the white face until the quivering
eyelids told that consciousness was returning. A few minutes later Dexie
opened her eyes, and seeing Hugh still beside her she tried to raise
herself, but sank back again on the sofa.
"Leave me at once!" she said, faintly. "Oh! I feel so sick! Go, I say."
"I cannot leave you until I see you better, Dexie. I will not touch you
again, so do not be afraid of me."
Dexie felt too helpless even to object, so she laid back with closed eyes,
wondering what had come over her just when she needed to be strong and
bold. At last, when the silence was beginning to be unbearable to both of
them, she opened her eyes, and Hugh, seeing her efforts to rise, gently
helped her to a sitting posture, then seated himself in the chair beside
her.
"Why did you come here, Mr. McNeil?" looking at him with offended eyes. "It
is unfair to persecute me in this way."
"Forgive me for coming, then, but I had no thought of persecuting you. I
heard news to-day that troubled me, and I was not strong enough to resist
the temptation of coming to see you once more, when I found you were not at
the party."
Dexie sat with tight-clasped hands, but said not a word, and Hugh saw no
relenting look in the dark eyes that looked almost black in their
intensity.
"Dexie, you are displeased with me, and justly so, for my mad behavior in
the boat, but I have longed for the chance to ask your forgiveness, and I
went to Mrs. Beverly's to-night solely to ask it of you. Dexie, your heart
is not as hard as you would have me think, for I know whose kind hands
helped Mrs. Gurney during my illness, and how you watched beside me when
others were too terrified to be of service."
Still no response from the white lips, for Dexie's heart was throbbing too
fast to allow of speech.
"I am going away, Dexie--somewhere--it matters little where--so bear with
me, for this is the last time I shall see you alone. I cannot stay here,
knowing that others have obtained the happiness I longed for," and looking
into her face, he added: "Is it really true, Dexie, that you are going to
marry Lancy? I heard it to-day as a fact."
A deep flush spread over the face that before was so deathly white, and not
wishing Hugh to think there was any doubt about the matter she drew from
her neck the gold chain, and, as she held up the ring, said in a low tone:
"Is that enough to convince you?"
"No, Dexie, it is not, for you would not hesitate to wear the ring in its
proper place if you felt sure of your own heart."
"If I was not sure before, I am now!" and in an instant the ring was
flashing on her finger, and her eyes were lit up by an angry gleam. She
wondered how it was that Hugh always seemed to bring up her worst feelings.
She was angry, and she did not attempt to hide it.
"You have no right to speak to me like that! You have no right even to seek
me here against my will! I have plenty of unpleasant memories of you
already, so be kind enough to go home! When I remember that boat sail, your
very presence seems an insult."
"Dexie, I did not mean to vex you again, but it is not my fault that your
memory is full of unpleasant happenings in connection with me. Fate seems
against me," said he, with a sigh, "but, Dexie, let us part friends," and
he rose from his seat and stood beside her.
But the firm, closed mouth gave no promise of yielding until Hugh dropped
beside her on the sofa, and in a voice choking with emotion made one
further appeal.
"Dexie, if you could but picture the anguish of my heart when I returned
that day to the vessel with other help than mine, and found no trace of
you, I think that even you would admit that I suffered enough for my
madness and folly; and since I have been sick, memory has given me many a
weary hour and adds many a thrust to wounds that are almost unbearable. It
is hard to give up all hope and face the dreary future without you, for you
have robbed my life of all happiness. If I must be sent hopeless away, tell
me, at least, that the unfortunate past is forgiven; it would make it
easier to bear."
His voice had grown soft, and his eager, pleading tone was hard to resist.
Dexie felt her anger giving place to a feeling of pity.
"I do not forgive easily, I fear, Mr. McNeil," said she, in a low tone,
"but I will try and think less bitterly of that unpleasant affair in the
future. I would be sorry to think that I had, even unintentionally, spoiled
your life; but you will not feel so low-spirited when you get stronger. The
best years of your life are yet before you, and I will soon drop out of
your memory as entirely as if you had never known me. Forget me as soon as
you can; that is the best wish I can give you."
"Ah! Dexie, that proves that you do not know what true love really is! When
your heart awakens, as it surely will sometime, you will know how cruel you
have been to me. Well, you have told me to go, and I suppose I must; but
it is hard--hard to leave you so! Do we part friends?" and he held out his
hand as he rose to his feet again.
"Yes, I think so," and she gave him her hand, "but I hope you will not come
here any more; it is unpleasant for both of us."
"And this is to be our good-bye! It is hard to give you up, my darling!"
and he held her hand as if he would never let it go. "I wonder if I shall
ever see you again!"
"Mr. McNeil, I have not troubled you with many favors, so I think you might
grant me one. Please do not leave the Gurneys just now; on my account, I
mean. We are going away from Halifax so soon ourselves, and I know it will
be a disappointment to them if you leave just now. I am sure they do not
wish you to go away until you are stronger. They have all been so kind to
me, I wish you would not make any change until we are gone."
"That is a great temptation, Dexie, coming from you; but a few weeks of
your presence, even though I may not see you, will be heaven itself,
compared to the life I must spend without you. I may, perhaps, see you
again."
"No! Not alone, at least! Let this be good-bye, Mr. McNeil," and she tried
to draw away her hands.
But he drew her close to him, and giving one long, earnest look into her
eyes, he lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a burning kiss upon them;
then the curtain dropped behind him.
Dexie stood where Hugh had left her for some minutes, listening to his
retreating footsteps as he disappeared up the attic stairs, then sank down
in the chair Hugh had occupied, and buried her face in her hands. There was
a tumult in her heart that required some deep thinking before she would
feel like herself again. Thoughts had arisen that had disquieted her. Hugh
had told her that her heart had not yet awakened; was it so? Why, then, was
she wearing Lancy's ring? She blushed as she pulled it hastily off, hiding
it on her chain like a guilty thing.
The story she had been reading, and which she had thought so overdrawn,
came into her mind; it had pleased her because she had thought it so
delightfully unreal. But had there not been passages in her own life quite
as romantic in their nature as that which seemed so interesting when read
out of a story-book.
Her heart had not yet awakened! How those words seemed to repeat themselves
over and over as she sat.
Had she awakened Hugh's heart only to disappoint him? Well, she had not
intended nor wished to do it; but he was very much in earnest, and she was
sorry. She sighed as she rose from her chair and picked up the book that
still lay on the floor, but she had lost all interest in the story; so she
threw it carelessly on the table and went downstairs to await the coming of
the rest, her thoughts still busy over the problems that Hugh's unexpected
visit had aroused.
Dexie found that the party had not improved Gussie's temper, for she came
home with many complaints as to how she had been neglected.
"I wish you had gone," she said spitefully to Dexie. "I was sick and tired
of hearing people ask where you were, and why you had not come, and there
was not a soul there that I cared to talk to, even Mr. McNeil disappeared,
no one knows where."
Dexie colored slightly as her father regarded her curiously; no further
mention was made of the matter at the time. Mr. Sherwood, however, was not
surprised when, a short time after, someone came behind him, and, with arms
around his neck, confessed in his ear that "Mr. McNeil had been in to see
her, but had come in through the attic, because he was not allowed in by
the door, and that they had quarrelled a little, but parted friends," and
ended by asking him "not to tell mamma, for fear Gussie might get hold of
it."
"Poor little girl, she has quite a time of it among them," her father said
as she left him; "yet I think I can safely leave it all with herself."