MABEL.
The morning following the party, Mr. Livingstone’s family were
assembled in the parlor, discussing the various events of the previous
night. John Jr., ’Lena, and Anna declared themselves to have been
highly pleased with everything, while Carrie in the worst of humors,
pronounced it “a perfect bore,” saying she never had so disagreeable a
time in all her life, and ending her ill-natured remarks by a malicious
thrust at ’Lena, for having so long kept Mr. Bellmont at her side.
“I suppose you fancy he would have looked better with you, but I think
he showed his good taste by preferring ’Lena,” said John Jr.; then
turning toward the large easy-chair, where Mabel sat, pale, weary, and
spiritless, he asked “how she had enjoyed herself.”
With the exception of his accustomed “good-morning,” this was the first
time he had that day addressed her, and it was so unexpected, that it
brought a bright glow to her cheek, making John Jr. think she was “not
so horribly ugly after all.”
But she was very unfortunate in her answer, which was, “that on account
of her ill health, she seldom enjoyed anything of the kind.” Then
pressing her hand upon her forehead, she continued, “My head is aching
dreadfully, as a punishment for last night’s dissipation.”
Three times before, he had heard her speak of her aching head, and now,
with an impatient gesture, he was turning away, when his mother said,
“Poor girl, she really looks miserable. I think a ride would do her
good. Suppose you take her with you—I heard you say you were going to
Versailles.”
If there was anything in which Mabel excelled, it was horsemanship, she
being a better rider, if possible; than ’Lena, and now, at Mrs.
Livingstone’s proposition, she looked up eagerly at John Jr., who
replied,
“Oh, hang it all! mother, I can’t always be bothered with a girl;” then
as he saw how Mabel’s countenance fell, he continued, “Let ’Lena ride
with her—she wants to, I know.”
“Certainly,” said ’Lena, whose heart warmed toward the orphan girl,
partly because she was an orphan, and partly because she saw that she
was neglected and unloved.
As yet Mabel cared nothing for John Jr., nor even suspected his
mother’s object in detaining her as a guest. So when ’Lena was proposed
as a substitute she seemed equally well pleased, and the young man, as
he walked off to order the ponies, mentally termed himself a bear for
his rudeness; “for after all,” thought he, “it’s mother who has designs
upon me, not Mabel. She isn’t to blame.”
This opinion once satisfactorily settled, it was strange how soon John
Jr. began to be sociable with Mabel, finding her much more agreeable
than he had at first supposed, and even acknowledging to ’Lena that
“she was a good deal of a girl, after all, were it not for her
everlasting headaches and the smell of medicine,” which he declared she
always carried about with her.
“Hush-sh,” said ’Lena—“you shan’t talk so, for she is sick a great
deal, and she does not feign it, either.”
“Perhaps not,” returned John Jr., “but she can at least keep her
_miserable feelings_ to herself. Nobody wants to know how many times
she’s been blistered and bled!”
Still John Jr. acknowledged that there were somethings in Mabel which
he liked, for no one could live long with her and not admire her
gentleness and uncommon sweetness of disposition, which manifested
itself in numerous little acts of kindness to those around her. Never
before in her life had she been so constantly associated with a young
gentleman, and as she was quite susceptible, it is hardly more than
natural that erelong thoughts of John Jr. mingled in both her sleeping
and waking dreams. She could not understand him, but the more his
changeful moods puzzled her, the more she felt interested in him, and
her eyes would alternately sparkle at a kind word from him, or fill
with tears at the abruptness of his speeches; while he seemed to take
special delight in seeing how easily he could move her from one extreme
to the other.
Silently Mrs. Livingstone looked on, carefully noting each change, and
warily calculating its result. Not once since Mabel became an inmate of
her family had she mentioned her to her son, for she deemed it best to
wait, and let matters take their course. But at last, anxious to know
his real opinion, she determined to sound him. Accordingly, one day
when they were alone, she spoke of Mabel, asking him if he did not
think she improved upon acquaintance, at the same time enumerating her
many excellent qualities, and saying that whoever married her would get
a prize, to say nothing of a fortune.
Quickly comprehending the drift of her remarks, John Jr. replied, “I
dare say, and whoever wishes for both prize and fortune, is welcome to
them for all me.”
“I thought you liked Mabel,” said his mother; and John answered, “So I
do like her, but for pity’s sake, is a man obliged to marry every girl
he likes? Mabel does very well to tease and amuse one, but when you
come to the marrying part, why, that’s another thing.”
“And what objection have you to her,” continued his mother, growing
very fidgety and red.
“Several,” returned John, “She has altogether too many aches and pains
to suit me; then she has no spirit whatever; and last, but not least, I
like somebody else. So, mother mine, you may as well give up all hopes
of that hundred thousand down in Alabama, for I shall never marry Mabel
Ross, never.”
Mrs. Livingstone was now not only red and fidgety but very angry, and,
in an elevated tone of voice, she said, “I s’pose it’s Nellie Douglass
you mean, but if you knew all of her that I do, I reckon——”
Here she paused, insinuating that she could tell something dreadful, if
she would! But John Jr. took no notice of her hints, and when he got a
chance, he replied, “You are quite a Yankee at guessing, for if Nellie
will have me, I surely will have her.”
“Marry her, then,” retorted his mother—“marry her with all her poverty,
but for heaven’s sake, don’t give so much encouragement to a poor
defenseless girl.”
Wishing Mabel in Guinea, and declaring he’d neither speak to nor look
at her again, if common civilities were construed into encouragement,
John Jr. strode out of the room, determining, as the surest method of
ending the trouble, to go forthwith to Nellie, and in a plain,
straight-forward way make her an offer of himself. With him, to will
was to do, and in about an hour he was descending the long hill which
leads into Frankfort. Unfortunately, Nellie had gone for a few weeks to
Madison, and again mounting Firelock, the young man galloped back,
reaching home just as the family were sitting down to supper. Not
feeling hungry, and wishing to avoid, as long as possible, the sight of
his mother and Mabel, whom he believed were leagued against him, he
repaired to the parlor, whistling loudly, and making much more noise
than was at all necessary.
“If you please, Mr. Livingstone, won’t you be a little more quiet, for
my head aches so hard to-night,” said a languid voice, from the depths
of the huge easy-chair which stood before the glowing grate.
Glancing toward what he had at first supposed to be a bundle of shawls,
John Jr. saw Mabel Ross, her forehead bandaged up and her lips white as
ashes, while the purple rings about her heavy eyes, told of the pain
she was enduring.
“Thunder!” was John’s exclamation, as he strode from the room, slamming
together the door with unusual force.
When Mrs. Livingstone came in from supper, with a cup of hot tea and a
slice of toast for Mabel, she was surprised to find her sobbing like a
child. It did not take long for her to learn the cause, and then, as
well as she could, she soothed her, telling her not to mind John’s
freaks—it was his way, and he always had a particular aversion to sick
people, never liking to hear them talk of their ailments. This hint was
sufficient for Mabel, who ever after strove hard to appear well and
cheerful in his presence. But in no way, if he could help it, would he
notice her.
Next to Mrs. Livingstone, ’Lena was Mabel’s best friend, and when she
saw how much her cousin’s rudeness and indifference pained her, she
determined to talk with him about it, So the first time they were
alone, she broached the subject, speaking very kindly of Mabel, and
asking if he had any well-grounded reason for his uncivil treatment of
her. There was no person in the world who possessed so much influence
over John Jr. as did ’Lena, and now, hearing her patiently through, he
replied, “I know I’m impolite to Mabel, but hang me if I can help it.
She is so flat and silly, and takes every little attention from me as a
declaration of love. Still, I don’t blame her as much as I do mother,
who is putting her up to it, and if she’d only go home and mind her own
business, I should like her well enough.”
“I don’t understand you,” said ’Lena, and her cousin continued; “Why,
when Mabel first came here, I do not think she knew what mother was
fishing for, so she was not so much at fault, but she does now——”
“Are you sure?” interrupted ’Lena, and John Jr. replied, “She’s a
confounded fool if she don’t. And what provokes me, is to think she’ll
still keep staying here, when modesty, if nothing else, should prompt
her to leave. You wouldn’t catch Nellie doing so. Why, she’ll hardly
come her at all, for fear folks will say she comes to see me, and
that’s why I like her so well.”
“I think you are mistaken with regard to Mabel,” said Lena, “for I’ve
no idea she’s in love with you a bit more than I am. I dare say she
likes you well enough, for there’s nothing in you to dislike.”
“Thank you,” interrupted John Jr., returning the compliment with a
kiss, a liberty he often took with her.
“Behave, can’t you?” said ’Lena, at the same time continuing—“No, I
don’t suppose Mabel is dying for you at all. All of us girls like to
receive attention from you gentlemen, and she’s not an exception.
Besides that, you ought to be polite to her, because she’s your
mother’s guest, if for nothing else. I don’t ask you to love her,” said
she, “but I do ask you to treat her well. Kind words cost nothing, and
they go far toward making others happy.”
“So they do,” answered John, upon whom ’Lena’s words were having a good
effect. “I’ve nothing under heaven against Mabel Ross, except that
mother wants me to marry her; but if you’ll warrant me that the young
lady herself has no such intentions, why, I’ll do my very best.”
“I’ll warrant you,” returned ’Lena, who really had no idea that Mabel
cared aught in particular for her cousin, and satisfied with the result
of her interview she started to leave the room.
As she reached the door, John Jr. stopped her, saying, “You are sure
she don’t care for me?”
“Perfectly sure,” was ’Lena’s answer.
“The plague, she don’t,” thought John, as the door closed upon ’Lena;
and such is human nature, that the young man began to think that if
Mabel didn’t care for him, he’d see if he couldn’t make her, for after
all, there was something pleasant in being liked, even by Mabel!
The next day, as the young ladies were sitting together in the parlor,
John Jr. joined them, and after wringing Carrie’s nose, pulling ’Lena’s
and Anna’s curls, he suddenly upset Mabel’s work-box, at the same time
slyly whispering to his cousin, “Ain’t I coming round?”
Abrupt as this proceeding, was, it pleased Mabel, who with the utmost
good humor, commenced picking up her things, John Jr. assisting her,
and managing once to bump his head against hers! After this, affairs at
Maple Grove glided on as smoothly as even Mrs. Livingstone could wish.
John and Mabel were apparently on the most amicable terms, he deeming
’Lena’s approbation a sufficient reward for the many little attentions
which he paid to Mabel, and she, knowing nothing of all that had
passed, drinking in his every word and look, learning to live upon his
smile, and conforming herself, as far as possible, to what she thought
would best please him.
Gradually, as she thought it would do, Mrs. Livingstone unfolded to
Mabel her own wishes, saying she should be perfectly happy could she
only call her “daughter,” and hinting that such a thing “by wise
management could easily be brought about.” With a gush of tears the
orphan girl laid her head in Mrs. Livingstone’s lap, mentally blessing
her as her benefactress, and thanking the Giver of all good for the
light and happiness which she saw dawning upon her pathway.
“John is peculiar,” said Mrs. Livingstone, “and if he fancied you liked
him very much, it might not please him as well as indifference on your
part.”
So, with this lesson, Mabel, for the first time in her life attempted
to act as she did not feel, feigning carelessness or indifference when
every pulse of her heart was throbbing with joy at some little
attention paid her by John Jr., who could be very agreeable when he
chose, and who, observing her apparent indifference, began to think
that what ’Lena had said was true, and that Mabel really cared nothing
for him. With this impression he exerted himself to be agreeable,
wondering how her many good qualities had so long escaped his
observation.
“There is more to her than I supposed,” said he one day to ’Lena, who
was commending him for his improved manner. “Yes, a heap more than I
supposed. Why, I really like her!”
And he told the truth, for with his prejudice laid aside, he, as is
often the case, began to find virtues in her the existence of which he
had never suspected. Frequently, now, he talked, laughed, and rode with
her, praising her horsemanship, pointing out some points wherein it
might be improved, and never dreaming the while of the deep affection
his conduct had awakened in the susceptible girl.
“Oh, I am so happy,” said she one day to ’Lena, who was speaking of her
improved health. “I never thought it possible for _me_ to be so happy.
I dreaded to come here at first, but now I shall never regret it,
never.”
She was standing before the long mirror in the parlor, adjusting the
feathers to her tasteful velvet cap, which, with her neatly fitting
riding-dress, became her better than anything else. The excitement of
her words sent a deep glow to her cheek, while her large black eyes
sparkled with unusual brilliancy. She was going out with John Jr., who,
just as she finished speaking, appeared in the doorway, and catching a
glimpse of her face, exclaimed in his blunt, jocose way, “Upon my word,
Meb, if you keep on, you’ll get to be quite decent looking in time.”
’Twas the first compliment of the kind he had ever paid her, and
questionable as it was, it tended to strengthen her fast forming belief
that her affection for him was returned.
“I can’t expect him to do anything like other people, he’s so odd,”
thought she, and yet it was this very oddness which charmed her.
At length Nellie, who had returned from Madison, and felt rather
lonely, wrote to Mabel, asking her to come home. This plan Mrs.
Livingstone opposed, but Mabel was decided, and the week before
Christmas was fixed upon for her departure. John Jr., anxious to see
Nellie, proposed accompanying her, but when the day came he was
suffering from a severe cold, which rendered his stay in the house
absolutely necessary. So his mother, who had reasons of her own for
doing so, went in his stead. Carrie, who never had any fancy for Mabel,
and only endured her because she was rich, was coolly polite, merely
offering her hand, and then resumed the novel she was reading, even
before Mabel had left. Anna and ’Lena bade her a more affectionate
adieu, and then advancing toward John Jr., who, in his dressing-gown
and slippers, reclined upon the sofa, she offered him her hand.
As if to atone for his former acts of rudeness, the young man
accompanied her to the door, playfully claiming the privilege of taking
leave just as his sister and cousin had done.
“It’s only me, you know,” said he, imprinting upon her forehead a kiss
which sent the rich blood to her neck and face.
John Jr. would not have dared to take that liberty with Nellie, while
Mabel, simple-hearted, and wholly unused to the world, saw in it a
world of meaning, and for a long time after the carriage roiled away
from Maple Grove the bright glow on her cheek told of happy thoughts
within.
“Did my son say anything definite to you before you left?” asked Mrs.
Livingstone, as they came within sight of the city.
“No, madam,” answered Mabel, and Mrs. Livingstone continued, “That’s
strange. He confessed to me that he—ah—he—loved you, and I supposed he
intended telling you so; but bashfulness prevented, I dare say!”
Accustomed as she was to equivocation, this down-right falsehood cost
Mrs. Livingstone quite an effort, but she fancied the case required it,
and after a few twinges, her conscience felt easy, particularly when
she saw how much satisfaction her words gave to her companion, to whom
the improbability of the affair never occurred. Could she have known
how lightly John Jr. treated the matter, laughingly describing his
leave-taking to his sisters and ’Lena, and saying, “Meb wasn’t the
worst girl in the world, after all,” she might not have been so easily
duped.
But she did not know all this, and thus was the delusion perfect.