Spring opened very late that year in Virginia--slowly and regretfully,
as though forced into doing the world a favor against its will, and
determined to be as grudging and disagreeable over it as possible. The
weather was cold, wet, and unwholesome--sulking and storming
alternately, and there was much sickness in the Lanarth and Shirley
neighborhood. The Christmas had been a green one--only one small spurt
of snow on Christmas eve, which vanished with the morning. The negroes
were full of gloomy prognostications in consequence, and shook their
heads, and cast abroad, with unction, all sorts of grewsome prophecies
anent the fattening of the church-yard.
All through the winter, Mrs. Mason had been ailing, and about the
beginning of March she succumbed to climatic influences, backed by
hereditary tendency, and took to her bed with a severe attack of
inflammatory rheumatism. Pocahontas had her hands full with household
care and nursing, and perhaps it was as well, for it drove self into
the background of her mind, for a part of the time at least, and filled
with anxiety the empty days. Grace, living five miles away and loaded
down with family cares and duties of her own, could be of little
practical assistance.
The winter had been a hard one for Pocahontas, harder, perhaps, for the
gallant nature which forbade her to bewail herself. She suffered
deeply and dumbly through all the weary nights and days. Pride and
womanly reserve precluded all beating of the breast, and forced
principle and nature to the ceaseless fight. Right gallantly she bore
herself. The mortification, the anguish, the love, must be met, hand
to hand, eye to eye, foot to foot. She endeavored to keep cheerful--to
take the same interest in life as formerly, and in the main she
succeeded; but there would come times when the struggle would seem
greater than she could bear, and being a woman, with a woman's heart,
and a woman's nerves, she would be irritable and difficult. But these
moods were never of long duration, any more than the more desperate
ones, when she would lock herself in her chamber and cast herself on
the floor and lie there prone and quivering--heart and conscience
utterly at variance--heart crying out with mad insistence that the
struggle was in vain; for love was strengthened by repression; and
conscience sternly replying that it should not be; the struggle should
continue until the last vestige of love should be expunged from heart
and life. It was no wonder, as time went on, that the girl's cheek
paled and that a dumb pleading came into the pure gray eyes.
Sometimes the thought of Jim would come and place itself in contrast to
the thought of the other man, for, unconsciously to her, her old friend
was her standard in many things. Her recognition of the nobility of
Jim's love would force, in some sort, recognition of the selfishness of
Thorne's love. She put such thoughts from her fiercely, and girded at
Jim in her aching, unreasonable heart, because his love was grander and
truer than the love she craved. Once, when old Sholto--the great red
setter--came and laid his head lovingly upon her lap, she frowned and
pushed him roughly away, because he looked up at her with eyes whose
honest faithfulness reminded her of Jim.
And the mother watched her child silently; conscious, through the
divination of unselfish mother-love, that her daughter suffered, yet
powerless to help her, save by increased affection and the intangible
yet perceptible comfort of a delicate respect. She could trust her
child and would not force her confidence; if spoken sympathy were
needed, Pocahontas knew that her mother's heart was open to her, and if
to her silence should seem best, she should have her will. From long
experience Mrs. Mason knew that some sorrows must be left quietly to
time.
When at length the news of Thorne's divorce reached them, she warded
off with tender consideration all remark or comment likely to hurt the
girl, and gave straight-forward, hot-tempered Berkeley a hint which
effectually silenced him. In sooth, the honest fellow had small liking
for the subject. He bitterly resented what he considered Thorne's
culpable concealment of the fact of his marriage. He remembered the
night of the ball at Shirley, and the memory rankled. It did not occur
to him that the matter having remained a secret might have been the
natural result of an unfortunate combination of circumstances, and in
no sort the consequence of calculation or dishonor on Thorne's part.
Neither did it occur to him, large-minded man though he was, to try to
put himself in Thorne's place and so gain a larger insight into the
affair, and the possibility of arriving at a fairer judgment.
Berkeley's interest in the matter was too personal to admit of
dispassionate analysis, or any impulse toward mercy, or even justice.
His anger burned hotly against Thorne, and when the thought of him rose
in his mind it was accompanied by other thoughts which it is best not
to put into words.
During Mrs. Mason's illness, little Blanche was unremitting in her
attentions, coming over daily with delicacies of her own concoction,
and striving to help her friends with a sweet, unobtrusive kindness
which won hearty response from both ladies, and caused them to view
Berkeley's increasing attentions to the little maid with pleasure.
They even aided the small idyl by every lawful means, having the girl
with them as often as they could and praising her judiciously.
With her winsome, childish ways and impulsiveness, Blanche formed a
marked contrast to grave, reserved Berkeley Mason, and was perhaps
better suited to him on that account. When their engagement was
announced, there was no lack of congratulation and satisfaction in both
families. The general, as he gave his hearty approbation to her
choice, pinched her ears and asked what had become of her objections to
Virginia; and Percival tormented her unceasingly, twitting her with her
former wails of lamentation. Blanche did not care. She took their
teasing in good part, and retorted with merry words and smiles and
blushes. She had made her journey to the unknown, and returned with
treasure.
Mrs. Smith, in her chamber, smiled softly, and thought on muslin and
lace and wedding favors.