MERE FANCIES
Graham's disposition to make his aunt a visit was not at all chilled by
the discovery that she had so fair a neighbor. He was conscious of
little more than an impulse to form the acquaintance of one who might
give a peculiar charm and piquancy to his May-day vacation, and enrich
him with an experience that had been wholly wanting in his secluded and
studious life. With a smile he permitted the fancy--for he was in a
mood for all sorts of fancies on this evening--that if this girl could
teach him to interpret Emerson's words, he would make no crabbed
resistance. And yet the remote possibility of such an event gave him a
sense of security, and prompted him all the more to yield himself for
the first time to whatever impressions a young and pretty woman might
be able to make upon him. His very disposition toward experiment and
analysis inclined him to experiment with himself. Thus it would seem
that even the perfect evening, and the vision that had emerged from
under the apple-boughs, could not wholly banish a tendency to give a
scientific cast to the mood and fancies of the hour.
His aunt now summoned him to the supper-room, where he was formally
introduced to Miss Grace St. John, with whom his first meal under his
relative's roof was destined to be taken.
As may naturally be supposed, Graham was not well furnished with small
talk, and while he had not the proverbial shyness and awkwardness of
the student, he was somewhat silent because he knew not what to say.
The young guest was entirely at her ease, and her familiarity with the
hostess enabled her to chat freely and naturally on topics of mutual
interest, thus giving Graham time for those observations to which all
are inclined when meeting one who has taken a sudden and strong hold
upon the attention.
He speedily concluded that she could not be less than nineteen or
twenty years of age, and that she was not what he would term a society
girl--a type that he had learned to recognize from not a few
representatives of his countrywomen whom he had seen abroad, rather
than from much personal acquaintance. It should not be understood that
he had shunned society altogether, and his position had ever entitled
him to enter the best; but the young women whom it had been his fortune
to meet had failed to interest him as completely as he had proved
himself a bore to them. Their worlds were too widely separated for
mutual sympathy; and after brief excursions among the drawing-rooms to
which Hilland had usually dragged him, he returned to his books with a
deeper satisfaction and content. Would his acquaintance with Miss St.
John lead to a like result? He was watching and waiting to see, and she
had the advantage--if it was an advantage--of making a good first
impression.
Every moment increased this predisposition in her favor. She must have
known that she was very attractive, for few girls reach her age without
attaining such knowledge; but her observer, and in a certain sense her
critic, could not detect the faintest trace of affectation or
self-consciousness. Her manner, her words, and even their accent seemed
unstudied, unpracticed, and unmodelled after any received type. Her
glance was peculiarly open and direct, and from the first she gave
Graham the feeling that she was one who might be trusted absolutely.
That she had tact and kindliness also was evidenced by the fact that
she did not misunderstand or resent his comparative silence. At first,
after learning that he had lived much abroad, her manner toward him had
been a little shy and wary, indicating that she may have surmised that
his reticence was the result of a certain kind of superiority which
travelled men--especially young men--often assume when meeting those
whose lives are supposed to have a narrow horizon; but she quickly
discovered that Graham had no foreign-bred pre-eminence to parade--that
he wanted to talk with her if he could only find some common subject of
interest. This she supplied by taking him to ground with which he was
perfectly familiar, for she asked him to tell her something about
university life in Germany. On such a theme he could converse well, and
before long a fire of eager questions proved that he had not only a
deeply interested listener but also a very intelligent one.
Mrs. Mayburn smiled complacently, for she had some natural desire that
her nephew should make a favorable impression. In regard to Miss St.
John she had long ceased to have any misgivings, and the approval that
she saw in Graham's eyes was expected as a matter of course. This
approval she soon developed into positive admiration by leading her
favorite to speak of her own past.
"Grace, you must know, Alford, is the daughter of an army officer, and
has seen some odd phases of life at the various military stations where
her father has been on duty."
These words piqued Graham's curiosity at once, and he became the
questioner. His own frank effort to entertain was now rewarded, and the
young girl, possessing easy and natural powers of description, gave
sketches of life at military posts which to Graham had more than the
charm of novelty. Unconsciously she was accounting for herself. In the
refined yet unconventional society of officers and their wives she had
acquired the frank manner so peculiarly her own. But the characteristic
which won Graham's interest most strongly was her abounding
mirthfulness. It ran through all her words like a golden thread. The
instinctive craving of every nature is for that which supplements
itself, and Graham found something so genial in Miss St. John's ready
smile and laughing eyes, which suggested an over-full fountain of
joyousness within, that his heart, chilled and repressed from
childhood, began to give signs of its existence, even during the first
hour of their acquaintance. It is true, as we have seen, that he was in
a very receptive condition, but then a smile, a glance that is like
warm sunshine, is never devoid of power.
The long May twilight had faded, and they were still lingering over the
supper-table, when a middle-aged colored woman in a flaming red turban
appeared in the doorway and said, "Pardon, Mis' Mayburn; I'se a-hopin'
you'll 'scuse me. I jes step over to tell Miss Grace dat de major's
po'ful oneasy,--'spected you back afo'."
The girl arose with alacrity, saying, "Mr. Graham, you have brought me
into danger, and must now extricate me. Papa is an inveterate
whist-player, and you have put my errand here quite out of my mind. I
didn't come for the sake of your delicious muffins altogether"--with a
nod at her hostess; "our game has been broken up, you know, Mrs.
Mayburn, by the departure of Mrs. Weeks and her daughter. You have
often played a good hand with us, and papa thought you would come over
this evening, and that you, from your better acquaintance with our
neighbors, might know of some one who enjoyed the game sufficiently to
join us quite often. Mr. Graham, you must be the one I am seeking. A
gentleman versed in the lore of two continents certainly understands
whist, or, at least, can penetrate its mysteries at a single sitting."
"Suppose I punish the irony of your concluding words," Graham replied,
"by saying that I know just enough about the game to be aware how much
skill is required to play with such a veteran as your father?"
"If you did you would punish papa also, who is innocent."
"That cannot be thought of, although, in truth, I play but an
indifferent game. If you will make amends by teaching me I will try to
perpetrate as few blunders as possible."
"Indeed, sir, you forget. You are to make amends for keeping me talking
here, forgetful of filial duty, by giving me a chance to teach you. You
are to be led meekly in as a trophy by which I am to propitiate my
stern parent, who has military ideas of promptness and obedience."
"What if he should place me under arrest?"
"Then Mrs. Mayburn and I will become your jailers, and we shall keep
you here until you are one of the most accomplished whist-players in
the land."
"If you will promise to stand guard over me some of the time I will
submit to any conditions."
"You are already making one condition, and may think of a dozen more.
It will be better to parole you with the understanding that you are to
put in an appearance at the hour for whist;" and with similar light
talk they went down the walk under the apple-boughs, whence in Graham's
fancy the fair girl had had her origin. As they passed under the shadow
he saw the dusky outline of a rustic seat leaning against the bole of
the tree, and he wondered if he should ever induce his present guide
through the darkened paths to come there some moonlight evening, and
listen to the fancies which her unexpected appearance had occasioned.
The possibility of such an event in contrast with its far greater
improbability caused him to sigh, and then he smiled broadly at himself
in the darkness.
When they had passed a clump of evergreens, a lighted cottage presented
itself, and Miss St. John sprang lightly up the steps, pushed open the
hall door, and cried through the open entrance to a cosey apartment,
"No occasion for hostilities, papa. I have made a capture that gives
the promise of whist not only this evening but also for several more to
come."
As Graham and Mrs. Mayburn entered, a tall, white-haired man lifted his
foot from off a cushion, and rose with some little difficulty, but
having gained his feet, his bearing was erect and soldier-like, and his
courtesy perfect, although toward Mrs. Mayburn it was tinged with the
gallantry of a former generation. Some brief explanations followed, and
then Major St. John turned upon Graham the dark eyes which his daughter
had inherited, and which seemed all the more brilliant in contrast with
his frosty eyebrows, and said genially, "It is very kind of you to be
willing to aid in beguiling an old man's tedium." Turning to his
daughter he added a little querulously, "There must be a storm brewing,
Grace," and he drew in his breath as if in pain.
"Does your wound trouble you to-night, papa?" she asked gently.
"Yes, just as it always does before a storm."
"It is perfectly clear without," she resumed. "Perhaps the room has
become a little cold. The evenings are still damp and chilly;" and she
threw two or three billets of wood on the open fire, kindling a blaze
that sprang cheerily up the chimney.
The room seemed to be a combination of parlor and library, and it
satisfied Graham's ideal of a living apartment. Easy-chairs of various
patterns stood here and there and looked as if constructed by the very
genius of comfort. A secretary in the corner near a window was open,
suggesting absent friends and the pleasure of writing to them amid such
agreeable surroundings. Again Graham queried, prompted by the peculiar
influences that had gained the mastery on this tranquil but eventful
evening, "Will Miss St. John ever sit there penning words straight from
her heart to me?"
He was brought back to prose and reality by the major. Mrs. Mayburn had
been condoling with him, and he now turned and said, "I hope, my dear
sir, that you may never carry around such a barometer as I am afflicted
with. A man with an infirmity grows a little egotistical, if not worse."
"You have much consolation, sir, in remembering how you came by your
infirmity," Graham replied. "Men bearing such proofs of service to
their country are not plentiful in our money-getting land."
His daughter's laugh rang out musically as she cried, "That was meant
to be a fine stroke of diplomacy. Papa, you will now have to pardon a
score of blunders."
"I have as yet no proof that any will be made," the major remarked, and
in fact Graham had underrated his acquaintance with the game. He was
quite equal to his aunt in proficiency, and with Miss St. John for his
partner he was on his mettle. He found her skilful indeed, quick,
penetrating, and possessed of an excellent memory. They held their own
so well that the major's spirits rose hourly. He forgot his wound in
the complete absorption of his favorite recreation.
As opportunity occurred Graham could not keep his eyes from wandering
here and there about the apartment that had so taken his fancy,
especially toward the large, well-filled bookcase and the pictures,
which, if not very expensive, had evidently been the choice of a
cultivated taste.
They were brought to a consciousness of the flight of time by a clock
chiming out the hour of eleven, and the old soldier with a sigh of
regret saw Mrs. Mayburn rise. Miss St. John touched a silver bell, and
a moment later the same negress who had reminded her of her father's
impatience early in the evening entered with a tray bearing a decanter
of wine, glasses, and some wafer-like cakes.
"Have I earned the indulgence of a glance at your books?" Graham asked.
"Yes, indeed," Miss St. John replied; "your martyr-like submission
shall be further rewarded by permission to borrow any of them while in
town. I doubt, however, if you will find them profound enough for your
taste."
"I shall take all point from your irony by asking if you think one can
relish nothing but intellectual roast beef. I am enjoying one of your
delicate cakes. You must have an excellent cook."
"Papa says he has, in the line of cake and pastry; but then he is
partial."
"What! did you make them?"
"Why not?"
"Oh, I'm not objecting. Did my manners permit, I'd empty the plate.
Still, I was under the impression that young ladies were not adepts in
this sort of thing."
"You have been abroad so long that you may have to revise many of your
impressions. Of course retired army officers are naturally in a
condition to import _chefs de cuisine_, but then we like to keep up the
idea of republican simplicity."
"Could you be so very kind as to induce your father to ask me to make
one of your evening quartette as often as possible?"
"The relevancy of that request is striking. Was it suggested by the
flavor of the cakes? I sometimes forget to make them."
"Their absence would not prevent my taste from being gratified if you
will permit me to come. Here is a marked volume of Emerson's works. May
I take it for a day or two?"
She blushed slightly, hesitated perceptibly, and then said, "Yes."
"Alford," broke in his aunt, "you students have the name of being great
owls, but for an old woman of my regular habits it's getting late."
"My daughter informs me," the major remarked to Graham in parting,
"that we may be able to induce you to take a hand with us quite often.
If you should ever become as old and crippled as I am you will know how
to appreciate such kindness.'"
"Indeed, sir, Miss St. John must testify that I asked to share your
game as a privilege. I can scarcely remember to have passed so pleasant
an evening."
"Mrs. Mayburn, do try to keep him in this amiable frame of mind," cried
the girl.
"I think I shall need your aid," said that lady, with a smile. "Come,
Alford, it is next to impossible to get you away."
"Papa's unfortunate barometer will prove correct, I fear," said Miss
St. John, following them out on the piazza, for a thin scud was already
veiling the stars, and there was an ominous moan of the wind.
"To-morrow will be a stormy day," remarked Mrs. Mayburn, who prided
herself on her weather wisdom.
"I'm sorry," Miss St. John continued, "for it will spoil our fairy
world of blossoms, and I am still more sorry for papa's sake."
"Should the day prove a long, dismal, rainy one," Graham ventured, "may
I not come over and help entertain your father?"
"Yes," said the girl, earnestly. "It cannot seem strange to you that
time should often hang heavily on his hands, and I am grateful to any
one who helps me to enliven his hours."
Before Graham repassed under the apple-tree boughs he had fully decided
to win at least Miss St. John's gratitude.