Not for the world would a young creature like Iris have let such words
escape her, or such thoughts pass through her mind. Whether at the bottom
of her soul lies any uneasy consciousness of an oppressive presence,
it is hard to say, until we know more about her. Iris sits between the
little gentleman and the “Model of all the Virtues,” as the black-coated
personage called her. I will watch them all.
I am sure that the young girl can hide nothing from me. Her skin is so
transparent that one can almost count her heart-beats by the flushes
they send into her cheeks. She does not seem to be shy, either. I think
she does not know enough of danger to be timid. She seems to me like one
of those birds that travellers tell of, found in remote, uninhabited
islands, who, having never received any wrong at the hand of man, show no
alarm at and hardly any particular consciousness of his presence.
The first thing will be to see how she and our little deformed gentleman
get along together. The next thing will be to keep an eye on the
duenna,——the “Model” and so forth, as the white-neckcloth called her.
The intention of that estimable lady is, I understand, to launch her and
leave her. I suppose there is no help for it, and I don’t doubt this
young lady knows how to take care of herself, but I do not like to see
young girls turned loose in boarding-houses. Look here now! There is that
jewel of his race, whom I have called for convenience the Koh-i-noor
(you understand it is quite out of the question for me to use the family
names of our boarders, unless I want to get into trouble),——I say, the
gentleman with the _diamond_ is looking very often and very intently,
it seems to me, down toward the farther corner of the table, where sits
our amber-eyed blonde. The landlady’s daughter does not look pleased, it
seems to me, at this, nor at those other attentions which the gentleman
referred to has, as I have learned, pressed upon the newly-arrived young
person. The landlady made a communication to me, within a few days
after the arrival of Miss Iris, which I will repeat to the best of my
remembrance.
He (the person I have been speaking of),——she said,——seemed to be kinder
hankerin’ round after that young woman. It had hurt her daughter’s
feelin’s a good deal, that the gentleman she was a-keepin’ company with
should be offerin’ tickets and tryin’ to send presents to them that he’d
never know’d till jest a little spell ago,——and he as good as merried, so
fur as solemn promises went, to as respectable a young lady, if she did
say so, as any there was round, whosomever they might be.
Tickets! presents!——said I.——What tickets, what presents, has he had the
impertinence to be offering to that young lady?
Tickets to the Múseum,——said the landlady.——There is them that’s glad
enough to go to the Múseum, when tickets is given ’em; but some of ’em
ha’n’t had a ticket sence Cenderilla was played,——and now he must be
offerin’ ’em to this ridiculous young paintress, or whatever she is,
that’s come to make more mischief than her board’s worth. But it a’n’t
her fault,——said the landlady, relenting;——and that aunt of hers, or
whatever she is, served him right enough.
Why, what did she do?
Do? Why, she took it up in the tongs and dropped it out o’ winder.
Dropped? dropped what?——I said.
Why, the _soap_,——said the landlady.
It appeared that the Koh-i-noor, to ingratiate himself, had sent an
elegant package of perfumed soap, directed to Miss Iris, as a delicate
expression of a lively sentiment of admiration, and that, after having
met with the unfortunate treatment referred to, it was picked up by
Master Benjamin Franklin, who appropriated it, rejoicing, and indulged
in most unheard-of and inordinate ablutions in consequence, so that his
hands were a frequent subject of maternal congratulation, and he smelt
like a civet-cat for weeks after his great acquisition.
After watching daily for a time, I think I can see clearly into the
relation which is growing up between the little gentleman and the young
lady. She shows a tenderness to him that I can’t help being interested
in. If he was her crippled child, instead of being more than old enough
to be her father, she could not treat him more kindly. The landlady’s
daughter said, the other day, she believed that girl was settin’ her cap
for the Little Gentleman.
Some of them young folks is very artful,——said her mother,——and
there is them that would merry Lazarus, if he’d only picked up crumbs
enough. I don’t think, though, this is one of that sort; she’s kinder
childlike,——said the landlady,——and maybe never had any dolls to play
with; for they say her folks was poor before Ma’am undertook to see to
her teachin’ and board her and clothe her.
I could not help overhearing this conversation. “Board her and clothe
her!”——speaking of such a young creature! O dear!——Yes,——she must be
fed,——just like Bridget, maid-of-all-work at this establishment. Somebody
must pay for it. Somebody has a right to watch her and see how much it
takes to “keep” her, and growl at her, if she has too good an appetite.
Somebody has a right to keep an eye on her and take care that she does
not dress too prettily. No mother to see her own youth over again in
those fresh features and rising reliefs of half-sculptured womanhood,
and, seeing its loveliness, forget her lessons of neutral-tinted
propriety, and open the cases that hold her own ornaments to find for
her a necklace or a bracelet or a pair of ear-rings,——those golden
lamps that light up the deep, shadowy dimples on the cheeks of young
beauties,——swinging in a semibarbaric splendor that carries the wild
fancy to Abyssinian queens and musky Odalisques! I don’t believe any
woman has utterly given up the great firm of Mundus & Co., so long as she
wears ear-rings.
I think Iris loves to hear the Little Gentleman talk. She smiles
sometimes at his vehement statements, but never laughs at him. When he
speaks to her, she keeps her eye always steadily upon him. This may be
only natural good-breeding, so to speak, but it is worth noticing. I
have often observed that vulgar persons, and public audiences of inferior
collective intelligence, have this in common: the least thing draws off
their minds, when you are speaking to them. I love this young creature’s
rapt attention to her diminutive neighbor while he is speaking.
He is evidently pleased with it. For a day or two after she came, he
was silent and seemed nervous and excited. Now he is fond of getting
the talk into his own hands, and is obviously conscious that he has at
least one interested listener. Once or twice I have seen marks of special
attention to personal adornment,——a ruffled shirt-bosom, one day, and a
diamond pin in it,——not so _very_ large as the Koh-i-noor’s, but more
lustrous. I mentioned the death’s-head ring he wears on his right hand.
I was attracted by a very handsome red stone, a ruby or carbuncle or
something of the sort, to notice his left hand, the other day. It is a
handsome hand, and confirms my suspicion that the cast mentioned was
taken from his arm. After all, this is just what I should expect. It is
not very uncommon to see the upper limbs, or one of them, running away
with the whole strength, and, therefore, with the whole beauty, which we
should never have noticed, if it had been divided equally between all
four extremities. If it is so, of course he is proud of his one strong
and beautiful arm; that is human nature. I am afraid he can hardly help
betraying his favoritism, as people who have any one showy point are apt
to do,——especially dentists with handsome teeth, who always smile back to
their last molars.
Sitting, as he does, next to the young girl, and next but one to the calm
lady who has her in charge, he cannot help seeing their relations to each
other.
That is an admirable woman, Sir,——he said to me one day, as we sat alone
at the table after breakfast,——an admirable woman, Sir,——and I hate her.
Of course, I begged an explanation.
An admirable woman, Sir, because she does good things, and even kind
things,——takes care of this——this——young lady——we have here, talks like a
sensible person, and always looks as if she was doing her duty with all
her might. I hate her because her voice sounds as if it never trembled,
and her eyes look as if she never knew what it was to cry. Besides, she
looks at me, Sir, stares at me, as if she wanted to get an image of me
for some gallery in her brain,——and we don’t love to be looked at in
this way, we that have——I hate her,——I hate her,——her eyes kill me,——it
is like being stabbed with icicles to be looked at so,——the sooner she
goes home the better. I don’t want a woman to weigh me in a balance;
there are men enough for that sort of work. The judicial character isn’t
captivating in females, Sir. A woman fascinates a man quite as often
by what she overlooks as by what she sees. Love prefers twilight to
daylight; and a man doesn’t think much of, nor care much for, a woman
outside of his household, unless he can couple the idea of love, past,
present, or future, with her. I don’t believe the Devil would give half
as much for the services of a sinner as he would for those of one of
these folks that are always doing virtuous acts in a way to make them
unpleasing.——That young girl wants a tender nature to cherish her and
give her a chance to put out her leaves,——sunshine, and not east winds.
He was silent,——and sat looking at his handsome left hand with the red
stone ring upon it.——Is he going to fall in love with Iris?