The embarrassing silence that followed Hugh's entrance was broken at last by Aunt Jennie, who made some commonplace remark that allowed free speech to resume itself again. She saw at once the position of affairs; the reason of Hugh's coolness when in Gussie's society was no longerany secret. She thought he had lacked the lover-like eagerness that one might expect, judging the matter from the standpoint of Gussie's frequent remarks.
But believing that Lancy Gurney had more than a friendly feeling for Dexie, she felt uneasy for the result of the struggle between the rivals. Dexie would surely suffer between them.
It was impossible for Dexie to feel at ease after Hugh's extraordinary greeting. She felt vexed at the thought of the spectacle she must have presented to those who had witnessed it. Did Hugh really know her, or were his words meant for Gussie alone? The hope that it was the latter made her decide that it must be; but if she had noticed how carelessly he replied to Gussie's entertaining chatter, or observed his eager looks in her own direction, she might have guessed that his heart was not in Gussie's keeping.
The arrival of the trunks brought a grateful respite to all, and Dexie disappeared the moment the expressman arrived, but with the excuse of helping to lift the trunks into the hall, Hugh followed her. Gussie, however, was close behind; not for a moment would she leave those two together. After what she had seen in the parlor there should be no chance of furthermistakes, if her vigilance could prevent it.
Dexie was so anxious to show her treasures that she opened her trunk as soon as Hugh deposited it in the hall.
"Here, Georgie," as her brother came running down the stairs, "take this parcel to mamma, carefully, mind, and ask her if she is too tired to see me again to-night. When you come back I will give you the box of something that I heard you wishing for," and looking up to her sister, who was bending over to watch her, she added, "Here is your parcel, Gussie, and this is for auntie. Where is she, I wonder?"
"Oh! do let me see what you brought for auntie?" and Gussie caught the parcel from Dexie's hands and began to inspect the contents.
Hugh was for the moment forgotten, but he still lingered near the door, hoping that some chance would favor him. He had so much to say, so much that had been crowded back into his heart during her long absence, that he felt hemust seize the first opportunity to speak of his hopes, and he wished to assure her that there had been no mistake on his part when he met her in the parlor. Just then Gussie stepped over to the lamp for a closer inspection of some fancy patterns, and Hugh turned to Dexie, saying:
"You seem to have remembered everyone but me, Dexie. You have not even a kind word to give me."
"Well, I have not anunkindword either, Mr. McNeil, so that ought to count for something, I think," and she stooped to pick up some paper from the floor, "but I think you deserve a good many for the ridiculous mistake you made when you came in."
"I made no mistake, except that of thinking the room held no one but yourself. Give me a chance to prove it, Dexie."
Dexie pretended not to hear, but turned the conversation by saying:
"I have not congratulated you on the good fortune you have met while we were away."
"Well! I think it is time you did," Gussie answered, awake to the fact that a low conversation was being held near her. "I am sure it is no everyday affair to fall heir to a fortune. Weren't you surprised when I wrote to you about it?"
"Yes, very," and the memory of the letter brought a smile with it. "And if the possession of money means happiness, I presume Mr. McNeil feels raised to the seventh heaven of bliss."
"Not yet, Dexie, but I am looking forward to the 'seventh heaven' you speak of."
"Mrs. Gurney mentioned that you thought of going abroad. I hope Lancy's absence has not interfered with your plans, Mr. McNeil?" and she made a move to ascend the stairs.
"Would you like to go abroad, Dexie?"
There was an eagerness in his tone that Dexie did not understand, so she answered:
"Well, if goingabroadmeans a visit to Great Britain, I say no, most decidedly! What do I care for the English, Scotch or Irish—as a race, I mean? My definition of theterm abroad is, a tour through Europe, ending with Egypt and the Holy Land, and farther still if the pocket-book held out."
"Dexie, will you go abroad with me?"
Gussie looked from Hugh to Dexie in open-eyed surprise. This invitation might mean much or little.
"Why, Hugh, it would be improper for Dexie to accept such an invitation," she hastily said.
"There would be nothing improper about it, if she went as my wife."
"You are carrying your jokes too far, Mr. McNeil," said Dexie, coldly. "If you want to turn Mormon you had better 'go West, young man,' for when I go onmywedding tour I want a husband who will be content withonewife, and, when he and I go abroad, we will go alone. No offence meant; but two is company, while three is a crowd. So good-night to you both," and she turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Hugh looking after her with a beating heart.
"Well, I hope I have been plain enough this time," was her inward comment. "Can he really care for Gussie and expect to marry her, as she thinks, or does he want to turn Mormon and marry the both of us? But whatever he has said to Gussie don't count, so long as he makes eyes at me. I'm willing to be pleasant and agreeable, if he is to be my brother-in-law; but he shall not call me 'his darling' and 'his love,' as if it were me he was engaged to. I wish I had slapped his face for him."
But, figuratively speaking, she had just done so, and if she had seen the grieved look on Hugh's face as he groped his way out the front door, she would have realized that her slap had struck home.
Gussie felt indignant, as she stood in the hall recalling the scene just passed. Hugh had left her without a word, but she could plainly see that the blame was not on Dexie's shoulders this time.
"I do believe he cares for Dexie, after all; what else could his words imply? But she does not care for him, that is plain; and it will be a strange thing if I cannot arrange matters so that he cannot help but offer himself.After what he said to papa, I know he wants to marry one of us, and I will see that it shall be myself."
The next day Dexie had a long talk with her father. She had called him aside to give him the letter she had copied from the one in Plaisted's handwriting, and when she had explained the circumstances Mr. Sherwood was much astonished, and praised her for her thoughtfulness in securing an exact copy.
"I will write to the parties in question and forbid the payment of any money to him, but I will say nothing to Plaisted about the matter at present. I will keep a sharp lookout, and directly he tries to put his plans into execution I will bring him up short. Thank you, my little woman, you have done a lucky stroke of business for me; but stay a minute," as Dexie rose to leave the room, "I want to ask you something. How much do you care for Hugh McNeil?" said he, as she came over to his side.
"Why, papa, what makes you ask such a question? Didn't you make a mistake in the name?" she said, archly. "Didn't you mean to say—Lancy Gurney?"
"No; I have a guess that way. But how about Hugh? Come, I have a reason for asking," and he drew her down to his knee. "Think a minute, and tell me."
"But, papa, I don't need to think a moment in order to answer that question. I don't like him at all. You should ask Gussie that question."
"I need not, for I think I know what her answer would be; but I have a little story to tell you, and I want you to give it serious consideration. As soon as Hugh McNeil knew about the money coming to him, he asked me for a private interview. From what Gussie said, I expected that he intended to ask for her. But Hugh was very straightforward, and made the whole matter plain, and, Dexie, he asked for the liberty of making you his wife. He said he was willing to wait any reasonable time for you, if only he had the promise of your hand in the end."
"Papa! you never told himyes! say you did not!" cried Dexie, springing to her feet and regarding him with beseeching eyes."My dear, I could not; so do not look so frightened about it," and he drew her back to his side again. "I am not willing to give my little girl to anyone yet, but I am not insensible to the fact that a man who loves my daughter as Hugh professes to love you, and can provide for her so handsomely, is worthy of some consideration."
"Why couldn't he take Gussie? She wants him and I don't," she answered with a frown. "I am sure Gussie told me she was all but engaged to him. He doesn't want the both of us, I hope."
"Dexie, I am sorry to say that Gussie has not acted so well about this matter as I could wish. She makes no secret of the fact that she would gladly accept the position he offers you, and it annoys him. Hugh confessed to me that at one time he did think he cared for Gussie, but found his mistake, and he has been so open with me about it that I cannot blame him for the change. Think it well over, Dexie, before he talks to you himself. A handsome man like Hugh, with a good bank account, will not come in your way very often. He offered to make a handsome settlement on you, directly you promised him your hand."
"Dear papa, would you like your poor Dexie to be unhappy for life?" throwing her arms around his neck. "I am sure you would not," as he drew her closer to him. "I could never marry Hugh; his very presence makes me feel pugnacious, and I feel like picking a quarrel with him every time I speak to him, and I enjoy doing it, too."
"Well, in that case it would not be pleasant to live your life with him, would it? but still it seems a pity to lose the money when he seems so anxious to put it into your hands. Your life would be so different with money at your command. If it were only Gussie, now."
"Yes, if it were only Gussie everything would go smoothly while the money lasted; but you did not tell me the result of the interview, papa."
"I told him I would leave the matter for you to settle, but I gave my consent, if he gained yours. I think he would be good to you, Dexie."
"Well! I guess he would have to, if he once got me, orI would know the reason why! What does mamma say about it, for I suppose she knows?"
"She seems much put out that it is not Gussie he asks for, but she hopes you will not be so foolish as to throw the chance away. That is the opinion of the both of us, you see, so do not decide hastily, Dexie."
"Dear me, how provoking it is! Mamma will be vexed, and I cannot help it, for I really cannotsayI consent when I feel such a dislike to the man. Some young ladies would see nothing but his fortune; but think, papa, we might live for fifty years! and I can't look forward to fifty years of life spent with Hugh McNeil. So tell him for me, papa, that it cannot be."
"Take time to think it over, Dexie, before he getsanyanswer, for Hugh will be much disappointed if you refuse him. I promised to plead his cause for him, but I cannot do so against your inclinations, since it will be you alone who must live your life with him. But, Dexie, many people live happily together without loving each other overmuch, so do not think it impossible for you to do the same. Do you care so very much for Lancy Gurney?" he asked, after a pause.
Dexie did not feel so embarrassed over this question as her father expected. She was pleased to have her father take such an interest in her little affairs of the heart, and show his sympathy in things that are usually left to the mother and daughter to talk over together.
"I do not know if I can explain it to you, papa," she replied with a smile. "I don't think I should care to marry Lancy—indeed, I am quite sure I never shall, but I like him very much for all that; but you need not tell anyone I said so, will you, papa?" she added, seeing a smile in her father's eyes. "Lancy has been very kind to me ever since we came to Halifax. You know yourself he has added very much to my pleasure by his thoughtful attentions, but I do not think it will end as Lancy expects," and a pretty blush spread over her face.
"Then you have not given him any promise!" smiling at her red cheeks.
"No, but he seems to think everything will be as hehopes, and is so pleasant over it that it is a pity to undeceive him. I'll promise not to allow any love-making, for he knows very well it is useless to become sentimental with me. Please don't tell my little secrets, not even to mamma, for she is sure to tell Gussie."
"Do not be afraid to trust me with your little affairs, Dexie," he said, kissing her cheek. "I am only too glad to be your confidant and adviser. I am sorry that your mother feels so little inclined to take the same interest in your affairs; you need her more now than when you were a child."
Mr. Sherwood watched his daughter with loving eyes as she tripped away from his side, and he wished for the power to look into the future and see how matters would end. He sighed as he realized how much depended on her own judgment; but his daughters must each settle for herself the question that would make or mar their future lives.
A change took place in the Sherwood household a few weeks later, for Aunt Jennie was obliged to return to her old home in Vermont, which was such an unlooked for event to Mrs. Sherwood that it quite upset her. They had all become so used to looking to Aunt Jennie for everything, that the house would seem to be without its head if she were gone.
When Dexie told her aunt how the Fremont girls managed the household expenditure and took the oversight of much of the housekeeping arrangements, Aunt Jennie replied that she thought her niece quite as capable as the Fremont girls, and asked Dexie if she could not undertake to fill her place after she was gone, as she knew Mrs. Sherwood would be glad to be relieved of the charge. When Dexie broached the matter to her mother, she found her quite willing to let anyone step into the gap, so Dexie determined to learn as much as she could while her aunt was present to advise her.
The little account books were brought out and studied, until Dexie felt sure she understood what ought to be done, though she doubted her ability to put the knowledge into practice. But her doubts soon gave way to a feeling ofconfidence in herself as, day by day, she mastered new difficulties.
"I think I will make a wonderful housekeeper, by and by, mamma," Dexie said, as they were all seated in her mother's room, and Mrs. Sherwood was regretting Aunt Jennie's approaching departure. "I am learning fast. Even Nancy gives me encouragement. The only thing that troubles me is the fact that Nancy thinks I am playing at housekeeping, and I am afraid she will resent my authority after auntie goes away. I shall have to wear a cap and spectacles to add dignity to my new position," she laughingly added.
"How absurd you are, Dexie," said her mother, with a frown. "If you intend to act as housekeeper I hope you will try and be less childish; and to go through the house whistling like a boy, as you did to-day, is far from lady-like. Will you ever learn to be genteel like your sister Gussie?"
"I think Dexie should be given her full name in the future," Gussie added, "if she intends to rush through the house like her namesake round the race course."
"But I will not be called after Bonner's trotting-horse! I will not!" said Dexie, angrily. "I fancy this would soon be a queer house if there was no one in it with more energy about them than you possess! However, let us return to the matter under discussion," said she, more mildly. "I want to know, in case I make any savings from the month's allowance, if I can pocket the remainder."
"I am afraid, Dexie, that you will not find much left over, for the first few months," her aunt said smilingly. "You must allow something for your inexperience, you know."
"Oh! I know that, auntie. But can I have it, mamma, much or little? Make the bargain with me, mamma."
"Certainly, Dexie; but you cannot expect to save much out of the usual month's allowance unless you scrimp us."
"Oh, I'll promise not to scrimp," was the laughing reply. "But I am going to begin my reign while auntie is here; then my inexperience will not cost me so much. I kept my eyes and ears open when I was at Mrs. Fremont's, and I didn't peep and listen either; but I learned a fewthings that I think will be a great help to me in my future sphere."
"I think Gussie had better join you in this branch of study," said Mr. Sherwood, laying down his paper. "It will be as much benefit to her as to you."
"Thanks, papa. I beg to decline the honor! I have no wish to shine as a domestic; it is not in my line," said Gussie, in a lofty tone.
"Well, I do not expect to run the house as smoothly as Aunt Jennie—I am sure you will not expect it of me, mamma—but I will do my best, and it will be nice to learn just how to do things."
"That is right, Dexie. Every girl should learn how, even though she may never have to put her own hands to the work itself. But do not be too particular about keeping within the monthly allowance; I am quite as willing to pay for housekeeping lessons as for music lessons."
How Dexie prized the weeks that followed! In after years she looked back to them with a thankful heart, for Aunt Jennie did not confine her teaching to the art of housekeeping alone. The inward culture of the heart was not forgotten. The good seed was sown with no sparing hand, and though some lay weeks, months and even years without bearing fruit, yet few were altogether lost.
What a blank her absence caused in the household! She had filled a mother's place among them, for the loving tact that bridged over the little jars that are apt to occur in every household was not one of Mrs. Sherwood's accomplishments.
The first few weeks after her aunt's departure were very trying ones to Dexie. There seemed much fault-finding that was really unnecessary, but Dexie honestly tried to do her best. She could see her own failures as well as her successes, and when she found that much of Nancy's ill-temper was due to Gussie's interference in the kitchen, she laid the matter before her father, and that put an end to many petty annoyances.
Dexie had much to bear from her mother also, for Mrs. Sherwood felt aggrieved that Dexie did not appreciateHugh McNeil's attentions as she thought they deserved. His visits were a daily occurrence, and it was vexing to see Dexie refuse what would have been so acceptable to Gussie.
"If you do not intend to marry him, why do you not tell him so plainly?" she said one day, when Dexie had shut herself up in her room to avoid meeting Hugh. "What is the use of keeping out of his way, when you know what he wants to see you for?"
"Why should I put myself in his way, when I do not want what he has to offer? He shall not talk to me about it, either, unless he does so before a third party. I will not see him alone! I sent him a decided answer through papa, so why can he not be satisfied with that? I declare, I almost hate the man!"
"Tell him so, plainly; then, and give Gussie a chance. She is not so foolish as to allow any sentimentality to come between her and a fortune."
"I have already told him so, as plainly as I can, mamma. But if you think I am standing in Gussie's way, just give Hugh McNeil this message from me. Tell him that I willnevermarry him; that I hate the very sound of his footsteps; that if his fortune were four times multiplied, I would not have him; that I want him to cease persecuting me with his hateful attentions, and leave me alone! Now, is that plain enough for any sensible man to understand, do you think?"
"Dexie! take care! See that you do not repent those words, for I shall see that they are repeated to him, word for word."
"Thank you, mamma, and if you can make the words sound any stronger, I hope you will do so. I will be well pleased to see Gussie occupy the position she craves. When she does, my congratulations will be most sincere and you will not know me—it will make me so wonderfully good-tempered," and she put her arm across her mother's shoulder and kissed her cheek. "Dear mamma, do not be vexed with me; but if I cannot endure Hugh for one hour, how can I think of spending my whole life with him?"
Mrs. Sherwood gave Hugh the message at her earliest opportunity, but it did not have the same effect on Hugh as she expected.
Hugh had no intention of accepting Dexie's refusal at second-hand; he would hear it from her own lips before he would give up hope. It might be an easy matter to remove the cause of her dislike, if he once found out what it was.
But Dexie knew her message had been delivered, and so felt herself free; and as Gussie was in excellent spirits, there seemed no reason why she should be glum when Hugh was near. She no longer slipped out of the room as Hugh appeared, though she was just as careful not to allow him to find her alone; but as Lancy's visits were as frequent as ever, Hugh was supposed to have given up the fight.
But Hugh had discovered that there was one way left him in which he could win a smile from Dexie, and he did not scruple to use it, though he was well aware that by doing so he was giving Gussie a false hope.
He had only to take a seat by Gussie's side, and say a few words to her, even the most commonplace, and Dexie's reserve would melt at once, so he spent many pleasant evenings in the parlor by this little scheme. He knew very well that Gussie was spreading her net, but if he found Dexie entangled in the meshes instead, Gussie's injured feelings would not trouble him. All stratagems are fair in love and war, so he smiled to himself and took courage.
Good fortune did not spoil Hugh. It made his good qualities shine out all the more brightly, and his friends admired as well as envied him. Dexie heard his praises sung from so many different quarters that her dislike to him was fast melting away, and seated by Gussie's side she could look on him with favor. But Hugh was merely biding his time, and was constantly on the watch for a favorable opportunity to press his suit personally and alone, in spite of the fact that Dexie considered the matter forever settled between them.
The auction rooms on Barrington Street were full to overflowing. A stock of goods was going under the hammer at ridiculously low prices, and among the bidders Hugh McNeil was conspicuous. As he turned to speak to a friend, he was much surprised to see Dexie Sherwood among the crowd. She was alone and not a little frightened at finding herself jostled about, and she welcomed Hugh with a smile as he made his way to her side.
"I am so glad to see you, Mr. McNeil. I was just wondering if I should be able to get out of this alive."
"How did you happen to come here at all; curiosity, I suppose?" and he smiled down into her face.
"Oh, no, indeed; I came on business, but I did not know what a hard time I was going to have of it. I heard Mr. Gurney talking about this sale last night, so I thought I might take advantage of it as well as the rest. I am Commissary-General now, you know, so I am on the lookout for bargains in my line," and she laughed softly.
"You want to bid for something, then; come and show me. Take my arm, so we will not get separated in the crowd," and for the first time in her life she placed her hand on Hugh's arm and followed his leading, and this thought came to Dexie with added force as Hugh pressed the hand in token of the pleasure granted him.
More than one person noted the bright young face that eagerly watched the several assortments fall under the hammer, and the light that shone in Hugh's dark eyes was not all caused by the excitement of the sale.
"I feel quite proud of my bargains," said Dexie, as they left the building and turned towards home. "I am ever so much obliged for your help; it will make such a difference in my accounts. Oh, you can't think how economical I am getting to be," said she, with a rippling laugh.
Then Dexie found herself telling her companion how she had gone with the Fremont girls to purchase household supplies, how they all enjoyed the excitement of the sales, and how sometimes no one would bid against them, muchto the auctioneer's chagrin; how she was profiting by the Fremont girls' experience, and was accumulating such a nice little sum, to buy something very nice for her mother by and by.
Hugh listened with a beating heart. He had known for a long time what a busy life she led. It had formed the foundation of many excuses when he had asked her to accompany him to places of amusement; but just now all her former coolness was forgotten in her present kindness. She had never talked to him so freely before, and Hugh was lifted up with hope at this unexpected friendliness.
When they reached home, Hugh detained her at the door.
"Will you grant me a favor, Dexie?" he asked. "Do not go into an auction room alone again; without me, I mean. You know I am always at your service, and will only be too happy to help you at any time. You will grant me this, Dexie?" and he looked earnestly into her face for an answer.
A number of expressions passed over Dexie's face as he spoke. Had she done a bold, imprudent thing in attending the sale without an escort? She had not given it a thought. Surely one might go about a matter of business without a gentleman's escort? The Fremont girls did so. That it might be improper had not occurred to her, and it vexed her to be reminded of it by Hugh, so his well-meant offer failed to soften her.
"Yes, and no," Dexie coldly replied. "I will promise not to go again alone, but I won't promise to go in your company again," and she turned and entered the house.
Why had he spoken and lifted again the barrier of reserve that had broken down during their morning's intercourse? was Hugh's thought as he entered his own door. Might he not have brought about his wishes without exacting a promise?
The next evening, several young ladies, with their gentlemen friends, met in the Sherwood parlor to discuss a proposed family picnic, and Hugh came in during the discussion, and was pressed to join them.
"Where is the picnic to be?" he asked.
"Oh, down the coast towards Cow Bay; we'll pick out a place when we come to it. The trouble is, to find out how many teams we can get up," said George Desbrasy.
"Well, the Gurneys are all going, but they cannot take any but their own crowd, and there are several ladies we must find room for amongst us somehow," said Fred Beverly.
"Well, I have to drive mother and sis, but I have one spare seat. Will you accept the seat beside me, Miss Gussie?" said young Desbrasy.
Gussie wished he had not made the offer, as she hoped Hugh would ask her to drive with him, for Hugh had a fine team of his own now.
But as Gussie hesitated about accepting, she saw Hugh turn to Dexie, and with the air of a Chesterfield ask, "May I have the pleasure of your company for the drive down, Miss Dexie?"
"Thank you, Mr. McNeil, but I daresay I am already engaged."
"No chance for you there, McNeil," said Fred Beverly, with a laugh; "Miss Dexie is spoken for already."
"Did I understand you to say that you werealreadyengaged for the drive, Miss Dexie?" said Hugh, persistently.
"Well, Lancy has not asked me yet, but since he has promised to go, my invitation will come all in good time."
"But his team will be full. You had better take your chance with Hugh," said Fred.
"There will be room enough for me, never fear," said Dexie, smiling, "so Mr. McNeil is free to offer his services to some other forlorn damsel."
"First come, first served, Miss Dexie," said Hugh. "I asked you first; come with me," he added, bending over her chair.
"Couldn't think of it. We would be sure to quarrel all the way, and when I go to a picnic I want to enjoy every minute."
"It takes two to make a quarrel, and I'll not be one of the pair," persisted Hugh. "Come with me, and let me prove to you how much I can add to your pleasure, when you will let me."
"Prove it now by asking Fanny Beverly or Maud Seeton to drive with you, for I decline the honor."
"Are you so wrapped up, heart and soul, in Lancy Gurney, that you cannot spare a moment to anybody else?" said Hugh, angrily.
"Certainly!" Dexie replied, with flashing eyes, "and since you are going to be so disagreeable, Mr. McNeil, I guess I will leave you," and she joined a group near the table.
"Where is Lancy, that he is not here to arrange about this picnic, said Fred Beverly to Cora Gurney, who was sitting by the table.
"Couldn't say. He promised to come in to-night."
"Listen! isn't that Lancy at the piano?" said Maud Harrington, as a sound of music in staccato style reached their ears. "How plainly you can hear it through the walls!"
There was a hush for a minute, when Dexie said as naturally as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world,
"Yes, that is Lancy's call; he wants me for something. Will you excuse me, friends, for a little while, till I see what is wanted?"
Looks were interchanged amongst some of the young people, and, hoping to make Dexie feel vexed, Gussie said, "Lancy Gurney has only to whistle, and Dexie will run like a dog at a call."
But Dexie took it all in good part, saying, with a smile: "Well, even a faithful dog is not a despised creature, you know, and it is something to know that Lancy will not whistle for anyone else while I am around," and turning at the door she added, "In case I do not come back, let me say you can count on me for anything I can do towards the success of the picnic. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," and, as Hugh lifted his eyes, she swept him an elaborate courtesy.
Hugh was too vexed to take any further part in the discussion, and he soon withdrew, intending to find out what it was that drew Dexie away from the pleasant gathering.
When Dexie entered the parlor next door, she found Lancy seated at the piano, looking quite unlike himself.
"What is it, Lancy?" going over to his side. "Why did you not come into our house to-night?"
"I have come across something unusual, Dexie, and I could not leave the piano until I mastered it. Sit here and listen."
Lancy's hands moved across the keys, drawing forth such thrilling chords that her heart was stirred to its lowest depths.
"Stop, Lancy, I cannot bear it," said she at last, laying her hand on Lancy's arm before he had finished a page.
Lancy looked up into the agitated face so near him, saying in a tremulous voice:
"Then I am not mistaken about it, since it affects you the same as myself. What is there about those chords that thrills our hearts so painfully? It is the only piece of music that has ever so affected me. I have not been able to play it through yet without a break. Sit down and try how far you can play, Dexie."
Dexie took the offered seat, and her hands swept the keys; but her firm touch seemed wanting. Wherein was that peculiar power that thrilled her with such exquisite pain; her hands fluttered, tears rose unbidden to her eyes, then, with a sudden break in the chords, she bowed her face in her hands.
Lancy was bending over her in a moment, and drawing her hands gently down, held them in a firm clasp.
"What is the matter with that music?" she said, at last, in a low tone. "I do not think I am nervous, but it sets my heart throbbing so that I cannot bear it."
"I think it is the keynote of our hearts that is struck by those chords, and gives back such answering thrills. I never came across anything before that affected me like it."
"Well, whatever it is, it is painfully sweet. I will try it again, but don't stand looking at me, there's a good fellow, but go away by the window and look out at—nothing."
Again those wondrous chords filled the room, but the masterful touch that usually accompanied Dexie's fingeringwas now wanting, for it was a trembling hand that followed the printed notes. More the once she faltered, but after a period of waiting she would repeat the passage and go on. But presently a longer silence occurred, and Lancy turned from the window to look at her. Tears were standing in her eyes, and she sat with her hands clasped tightly before her. Drawing her away from the piano, he led her to the sofa, and the silent sympathy in his manner was more eloquent than any flow of words could have been.
"It seems foolish, does it not, Lancy?" she said at last, "but it is no common piece of music, and I shall never be able to play it before strangers."
"No; neither shall I, Dexie. That music speaks to your heart and mine alike. Let it be for ourselves alone, will you, Dexie?" and the grey eyes looked very dark in their earnestness.
"Well, have it so, Lancy. I will be able to play it properly by and by, I expect. But I never noticed the name of it."
"It is simply called 'A Song Without Words.' Let us name it again to suit ourselves."
"Very well. I came in to ask you into our side of the house. The picnic is being discussed; but I don't feel a bit like going back myself now—that music has almost upset me."
"Well, stay with me and let us have a quiet 'sing' by ourselves here; that will be pleasanter than discussing a picnic—shall we?"
When Hugh looked into the door a short time afterwards, he saw nothing that need have caused such a frown to wrinkle up his manly brow, for Lancy was only playing a simple ballad, and Dexie was seated in a low rocker some distance from the piano, her hands clasped behind her head, singing softly, her whole appearance seeming to suggest rest and contentment. Perhaps that very suggestion goaded him to bitterness, for why couldn't Dexie be as contented and happy in his society as in Lancy's?
The picnic came off as planned, and was enjoyed by all excepting Hugh, who, finding he could not have the companionof his choice, coaxed little Gracie and Ruth Gurney to go with him, and they willingly consented. But Gussie looked with angry eyes on the fine turnout, "just wasted on those little torments," as the light buggy flew past the more sober-going horses that were bringing up the rear.
She forgot her anger, however, when she returned home and found that Mr. Plaisted had arrived during their absence.
Bless us! how very amiable we can be when we want to make a deep impression on someone's soft heart!
Gussie's face was now all smiles. Her words were all sweet when Mr. Plaisted was by anyway, and as it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, Dexie felt grateful enough for anything that would cause Gussie to be a little better-natured than she had been during the last few weeks, and Gussie's very unexpected offer, to "keep the parlor dusted while Plaisted is here," touched Dexie to the heart.
But his presence made Dexie's task much harder than usual. Such a "lie-a-bed" as he was in the mornings, and he expected to be served with a hot breakfast whatever might be the hour of his appearance.
Nancy remembered him of old, and resented the added work, and Dexie tried almost in vain to pour oil on the troubled waters.
One evening, when Plaisted was about to retire, Dexie handed him his lamp, saying:
"Our breakfast hour is eight o'clock, Mr. Plaisted, and if you will rise at the first bell you will have plenty of time to curl your hair before the breakfast bell rings."
"Dexie, don't let your tongue run away with you," her father said, reprovingly. "Plaisted will surely be up in good time to-morrow, as we have much work ahead of us if we intend to catch the train."
"Yes, I'll be up to-morrow morning without fail," he replied. "I don't see how it is that I oversleep myself so often when I am here; I fully intended to get up to breakfast this morning, but missed it. However, you will see me to-morrow morning at the breakfast table, Miss Dexie, if I am alive," he added jokingly, as he waved a good-night to Gussie.
"Very well; but if you are not up in time we shan't wait for you," said Dexie, smiling, "for dead men need no breakfast."
"Oh! you'll see, Miss Dexie, I'll be up to-morrow in time, without fail," and he laughed as he disappeared up the stairs.
But when eight o'clock came next morning, it brought no Plaisted with it, and Dexie horrified them by asking if they had better go up and view the remains.
Breakfast was eaten in silence. Mr. Sherwood was vexed at Plaisted's laziness when there was so much need of energetic work to make up for time lost and wasted.
"Perhaps he did not hear the bell," said Gussie, as the clock struck nine. "I'll ring it again," which she did, vigorously.
But another hour slipped by, and still he did not appear, much to Dexie's disgust and annoyance.
While standing by the window waiting his appearance, she became aware of a great event that was taking place in the backyard. It happened that a pet cat had met with some accident that had deprived it of life, and the children were indulging in a funeral. A grave had been dug at the back corner of the yard, and the procession of mourners was marching back and forth across the yard with many twists and turns, to make it last longer, until it at last reached the open grave. Georgie Sherwood, who marched in the front of the procession, with the remains in a raisin-box, now deposited it in its last resting-place, while the little Gurneys, who were sedately following, wailed aloud.
When the grave was covered to their satisfaction, Frankie Gurney came into the house with Georgie, holding a piece of smooth, white marble, and asked Dexie if she would write something on it, for it was to be the cat's tombstone.
"Say that she was the prettiest and best-behaved cat in Halifax, and that she left a large family of sorrowing kittens behind her."
"Yes, and children, too. Be sure and say that, Dexie," added Georgie.
The inscription was soon written in Dexie's largest andclearest hand, and it delighted the eyes of the little ones, who could easily read every word.
"Where did you get such a nice stone, Frankie?" she asked.
"Oh, down in the grave-stone shop. The man told me I could have it."
A sudden thought came into her mind, and she smiled as she asked:
"Could you get another piece as big as that, do you think?"
"Oh, yes; there is another piece like this. Someone broke a foot-stone, and it is no good, the man said. I'll go and get it, if you want it."
"Oh, will you? then run quickly. I'll make you a new kite, if you will hurry."
In a very short time Frankie was back with the stone, Georgie, meanwhile, being engaged in setting up the cat's monument.
"What do you want with the stone, Dexie?" he asked, as he regarded her attentively.
"Come with me, Frankie, and I will show you," and she led him upstairs to the upper hall.
"I want to play a trick on Mr. Plaisted; but I can't, unless you will help me."
"Oh, I'll do anything you tell me," his eyes eager for any fun.
"You see, he is a fearful hand to sleep in the mornings. He is not up yet, and the morning is half gone. He said last night that he would be up in time for breakfast, if he was alive. Well, you can hear him snoring in the next room; but, since he is not up, I am going to consider him dead, and I want you to put up his tombstone. Now, do you think that you can go carefully and put this at the head of his bed without waking him?"
Laying the stone on her knee, she soon had it written over in large, plain letters, and hoping that Plaisted might sleep till noon, as he often did, she slipped downstairs to await results.
It is not often that a man is roused from sleep by his own tombstone falling on him, but that is howwas at last awakened. Quite likely Frankie, fearing to awaken him, did not place it very securely. However, as Plaisted was about to turn over for another snooze, down came the marble slab on his papered head! It almost stunned him for a moment, but curiosity roused him enough to find out what had struck him.
Lifting his arms above his head, he grasped the object, but not calculating on its weight, it slipped out of his hands and bruised his head in another spot. Raising on his elbow, he gazed in bewilderment on the thing, but turning it over he quickly grasped its meaning, for the words thereon were plain enough for the dullest man to understand, and read as follows:
"Sacred to the memory ofD.S. Plaisted,who departed this life while in full health and curl papers.His death was sudden,but quite expected.This monument was erected by one who fully realized hisWORTH-LESS-NESS.Peace to his ashes."
A few moments of awful silence followed the reading of this inscription, then curses both loud and deep were heard in the room. With a bound he was out of bed, and opening the door he flung his tombstone over the baluster to the bottom of the stairs, with a crash that startled the family from their seats as if a thunderbolt had shaken the house.
Dexie disappeared instantly, knowing what the noise meant, but feeling thankful that there was no one near the stairs when the crash came, or she would have had to seriously repent her joke. As it was, the stairs were dinged and marred, and the fragments of the tombstone were strewn over the hall.
It did not take Plaisted long to dress that morning, andhe soon appeared before the assembled family, his brow dark and his eyes flashing.
"Who did that?" he demanded as he made his appearance.
"That is just what we have been trying to find out," replied Mr. Sherwood, who thought he was referring to the noise.
"I mean, who put that stone in my room?"
"What stone? I hardly think you are awake yet, Plaisted," and he regarded him severely. "Do you know what time it is?"
Plaisted glanced at the clock, and his angry feelings were swallowed up in the feeling of shame that spread a flush over his face.
"Heavens! I never thought it was so late as that! So we have lost the train again by my carelessness. Too bad, Sherwood. But that joke was no light one. Did you put up that stone?"
"What stone? I don't understand," replied Sherwood, angrily.
Plaisted turned back into the hall, and gathered up the pieces he had flung down in his anger, then piecing it together on the table pointed to the inscription.
A roar of laughter came from Mr. Sherwood's throat, as he took in the joke. Dexie, hearing the laughter and knowing its cause, came boldly into the room, ready enough to confess her share of it, now that she knew her father would not scold very much about it.
"Dexie, did you do that?" he asked, as she appeared. "That writing looks very familiar."
"Well, I wrote the inscription," her face never changing expression, "but I hired another person to set the stone up. Has there been a miracle that you have come to life again?" she added, turning to Plaisted.
"Well, I'll have to own that you have got the best of me this time, Miss Dexie; but I'll pay you for that tombstone yet, see if I don't," and he seated himself to his late breakfast.
There was no need to set up a monument to Plaisted's memory the next morning, as he was down before thebreakfast bell rang, and as Mr. Sherwood kept him confined to the business they had before them, he found no time to pay Dexie back for the trick she had played him.
During the day something occurred that referred to business matters in Prince Edward Island; and becoming annoyed at Plaisted's equivocal answers, Mr. Sherwood took the copy of the letter Dexie had brought home with her, and laid it before his eyes. Plaisted read it with a puzzled brow and shamefaced cheeks.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, in embarrassment.
"No matter; but can you deny it is yours?"
"By thunder! I guess I can! that is not my handwriting," he replied, trying to bluff it off.
"No, the handwriting is not yours, I know. But dare you say that that is not an exact copy of a letter that was written by your hand?"
"Well, you have me there, Sherwood, so I may as well own up. I was going to do a bit of shrewd business for myself, but someone seems to have got ahead of me. Now I look at this writing, it is singularly like the writing on my tombstone," he added, as he studied the letter before him; "but, of course, it isn't possible."
Receiving no answer, he looked up at Mr. Sherwood and seemed to read the truth in his face.
"You don't mean to say that my conjecture is right?"
"Yes, Dexie's thoughtfulness and quick perception have saved me a good thousand. Your doings on Prince Edward Island were made known to her in a singular manner, and she was sharp enough to see the advantage that an exact copy of your letter would be to me; and as your letter was placed in her hands quite unexpectedly, she copied it. You and I must part. I'll have no schemer like you for a partner any longer. I'll not have my name mixed up with such doubtful dealings."
High words followed, but as Mr. Sherwood had the upper hand, Plaisted was obliged to submit to his decision, and he soon left the room to collect his belongings, having received a peremptory dismissal.
"There is one satisfaction that I wish you would grant me, Sherwood," he said, turning as he reached the door, "Tell me how your daughter chanced upon that letter.""No, that you need not know; but it was by the merest accident, and was as great a surprise to her as it has been to me. But she was sharp enough to see how important her information was, and knew that a copy of your letter was the best guarantee she could bring me of your craftiness."
"Sharp! yes, that is just the word for her. She is like a bunch of nettles, stinging you if you but touch her. She has contrived to give me an unpleasant memory of her every time I have been here. And so it is to her I owe this break in our business intercourse;" and with flushed face and flashing eyes he left the room, and before night he was journeying toward the "land of the free," a sadder, and, let us hope, a wiser man.
"Hope long deferred maketh the heart sick," and Hugh became dull and morose; the happiness he hoped for seemed as far off as ever, and the continued disappointment was making his life bitter. Mrs. Gurney saw the change, and tried to persuade Hugh to go abroad. This he longed to do, but waited; he might yet go abroad with Dexie as his travelling companion. He would not take the message sent him as final; surely if he could see her alone, face to face, he would compel her to give her reasons for refusing him, and he might explain away her objections.
But Dexie considered the matter settled, and feeling herself free she thought it right to drop her stiff, reserved manner, and be once more friendly. This change made Hugh think that there was still hope for him, and he determined to take a lover's privilege, and press his suit face to face.
With this end in view, he called on the Sherwoods one afternoon, and finding Mr. Sherwood alone, he asked permission to take Dexie out for a sail, adding that there seemed no other way of seeing her alone.
"I doubt if she will go with you, Mr. McNeil," said Mr. Sherwood. "Why not let the matter rest as it is? I don't think you are making much headway; better not press it any further."
"She has not given me fair play," was the reply. "If I am to be refused, why must I take it from another's lips? Give me the chance to open my heart to her, and I will be satisfied."
"Well, Mr. McNeil, I wish you well; but she must choose as she likes. What is the water like to-day?"
"Smooth as a mill-pond; scarcely a ripple," was the reply, as he followed Mr. Sherwood into the next room.
"I have called to see if you will go for a sail, Miss Dexie," said Mr. McNeil, as he entered the room and seated himself beside her. "You have not been on the water for some time; it is a pity to miss this fine afternoon."
Gussie knew very well that she was not included in the invitation; but she had no intention of being left out, so she eagerly answered:
"Oh, yes, of course we will go; it will be lovely and cool on the water this hot afternoon."
Hugh knew it would be useless to hint that it was Dexie alone he wanted, but he meant to get rid of her society somehow.
"You have not said if you would go, Dexie," said Hugh, looking intently into her face.
"Oh, yes! certainly. I shall be delighted to go, if Gussie thinks she will not get sick."
"I don't think Gussie was included in the invitation," said Mr. Sherwood, looking up from his paper as he became aware of the situation.
"But of course it was understood; I would not go without her," said Dexie. "What time shall we be ready?"
"I will call in half an hour," and Hugh left the room with his heavy brow drawn into a decided frown.
During the walk to the wharf Hugh was so silent that Gussie began to banter him on his gloomy countenance.
"You don't look as if you enjoyed the prospect of an afternoon on the water, after all!" she said, laughing.
Hugh took no notice of her remarks, but handed the girls into the boat, threw the shawls on a seat, and shoved off.
"I hope the wind will rise a little," said Dexie, as they seated themselves. "You will find it rather tiresome to row all the time."
"We will catch a slight breeze after we get out a bit," replied Hugh.
But Gussie no sooner felt the motion of the boat than she repented her decision in coming. She was a veritable coward on the water; the least ripple made her shrink with fear, and nothing but her anxiety to keep Hugh and Dexie apart would have allowed her to overcome her dread. But once on the water, fear and sickness overmastered all else.
"Oh! do be careful!" she cried in alarm, as Hugh stepped forward to adjust the sail, causing the little craft to dip slightly on one side.
"No danger, Gussie," said Dexie; "the boat will not tip as easily as you suppose."
"But do you not think it is getting rough?" she asked, as a slight ripple came towards them. "Oh! I wish I had not come. Do let us go back."
"The idea! Why, we have not been out ten minutes," said Dexie, who thoroughly enjoyed the motion that sent the color from Gussie's face. "Gussie, are you frightened, or sick?" she added, looking into her sister's face.
"Both. Do ask Hugh to return; I am in misery."
Hugh lost no time in doing as he was requested, and they soon reached the wharf. Gussie stepped ashore at once, glad to reachterra firmaagain; but as Dexie stepped forward to join her, Hugh turned sharply:
"Are you frightened, too? I thought you were made of something better."
The taunt aroused Dexie, and she replied:
"No, I'm not afraid. It was not I that asked to return."
Instantly Hugh stepped into the boat and, gave it a shove that sent it several rods, saying:
"Then we'll not lose our sail on Gussie's account," and hebent to the oars, sending the little boat far out into the stream.
Gussie stood on the wharf until she saw that they really meant to leave her there, and then walked thoughtfully home.
"I wonder what this means?" was Dexie's inward comment when she found herself alone with Hugh. "There is some method in this madness, for I see it in his eyes."
She did not offer to begin the conversation until she saw Hugh hoist the sail and turn towards Point Pleasant.
"Where are you going, Mr. McNeil? I thought we were going up the Basin."
"I think we will try the Arm; there will not be so many crafts about."
"Why this wish for seclusion?" said Dexie, forcing a smile. "Surely there will be room for us as well."
Hugh paid no attention to this remark until they had turned up the Arm; then dropping the sail and changing his seat to one opposite Dexie, he let the boat drift with the tide.
Looking at her earnestly he said,
"It was a lucky thought that made me bring you out on the water. I thought Gussie would soon get enough of it. We are not likely to be interrupted here, and you cannot run away from me. Now, do you want me to tell you why I have brought you here?"
"No; I have not the least curiosity about it," was the seemingly indifferent reply.
"You know what I wish to say, Dexie, though you do not care to acknowledge it," he said, in a low tone. "Believe me, Dexie, I have not been playing at love-making all this time. I never was more in earnest in anything than I am in this. Tell me, what is it that you have against me?"
"Mr. McNeil, I thought this matter was settled. You received the message I sent you. Why bring up the subject again? I do not wish to hear another word."
"You cannot help yourself, Dexie. You have had your own way in this all along, and have not allowed me to say a word. Now it is my turn, and I will not be put off. Remember all is fair in love and war."
Dexie was silent. She was a little afraid of Hugh in this mood, but no sign of her fear appeared outwardly.
"I have reached the limit of torture that I can bear," said Hugh, after a pause. "I have had harsh words and cold looks for a long time, and you have slighted me on every possible occasion; but it has made no difference in my love for you. It has grown until it has taken possession of me, and my life seems to hold nothing worth living for with you left out of my future. Dexie, have pity! Is my life of no account to you that you can toss it aside without a thought?"
Dexie raised her eyes to the earnest face before her as she replied:
"I must think of my own self. Why should I make my life unhappy to please a passing fancy of yours?"
"A passing fancy! I understand that remark; you mean it as a sneer. It was a passing fancy with Gussie, I will admit. But, Dexie, it is a strong man's love that now burns in my heart. Think of all that it is in my power to give you, if you will only receive it. But the fact that I possess a fortune gives me no pleasure unless I can share it with you. Say the word, Dexie, and your every wish shall be gratified, if it is in the power of a man or money to do so, and my whole life shall be spent in making you happy. You need never have a care. What more could you ask of me, Dexie?" His eager eyes seemed to burn into her very soul as he waited her reply.
"I ask you for nothing; but if you will take all this and lay it before someone who could and would gladly accept it, you would be far happier in the end. It is a waste of time to try and persuade me to do what my whole soul refuses to consider, even for a moment."
"But why? Tell me why, Dexie? What have you against me? Is it on Gussie's account, or is it Lancy Gurney that comes between us?"
"What matters the reason? Call it what you like, it stands between us, and always will," she answered with rising color.
"You will not say! Can it be possible that you are so much in love with Lancy Gurney that there is no room fora thought of me? He will never make you happy; he knows nothing of love as I feel it—a schoolboy attachment, that will soon be forgotten!"
"Be kind enough to leave Lancy's name out of this discussion altogether," said Dexie coldly, "and as there is nothing to be gained by prolonging this unpleasant interview, we had better return home."
"You are mistaken if you think I am going to end this little excursion without gaining my end. Do you remember the time Lancy took you to drive, on purpose to gain your consent to whistle at the concert? Well, he kept you out until you gave him your promise, and I intend to profit by that idea of his, and keep you here until you give me a promise also."
"Why! Mr. McNeil, are you crazy?" said Dexie, in alarm. "What parallel do you see in the case? What good would a promise do you which you know I would break the moment I reached the shore?"
"You will not break any promise you make. I am not afraid of that. I think I know you better than you do yourself, Dexie."
Dexie flushed angrily, and turned her eyes to see the position of their boat. They had been drifting at the will of the tide, and she had given little thought to it in her excitement. But now, understanding what might be in store for her, it was necessary to think of some way of escape.
Could she keep Hugh from regarding her movements, and draw his attention from their boat's course?
After a few minutes' silence she asked, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth:
"I suppose there is not a piece of paper anywhere about," and she looked into her pocket and beneath the seat in a vain search; and there was a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she added: "I suppose you could not accommodate me with a piece of paper, could you, Mr. McNeil? Oh, thanks. And a pencil? Much obliged. Now, if there is only an empty bottle around some place, with a tight cork, I'll not despise the shipwrecked mariner's post office.""What are you going to do?" said Hugh, looking at her in surprise.
"Well, if I am to be detained here indefinitely, I would like to send a few parting words to Lancy. I am sure it would besucha comfort to him, in case the letter ever reached him, to know that I cared enough for him to remain true under such trying circumstances."
Was she making fun of him or not? Hugh could not tell, but he snatched the piece of paper from her hand and flung it over the side of the boat.
"Poor Lancy! how he will grieve for me!" she added in a commiserating tone, as she watched the receding scrap of paper. "You might have allowed me that one bit of consolation, I am sure, Mr. McNeil."
"Do you really love Lancy so much? I cannot believe it, Dexie."
"You might, nevertheless; for believe me, Mr. McNeil, if I had but one last wish granted me, it would be that I might be transported to his side. Ah me! I do not think I ever cared for him so much as I do at this present moment," and Dexie began to sing in a minor tone and in the high, cracked voice of an old woman:
"Why—do—we—mourn—departed—friendsOr—"
"Dexie, stop that!" and Hugh's' voice was sharp with pain and annoyance. "I do believe you are the most vexatious creature that ever lived."
"It makes me happy to hear you acknowledge that, Mr. McNeil; and I think you are far too sensible to want to spend your whole life with such a vexatious creature as you know me to be. Put a stop to all this nonsense, and let us return home."
"Never! You are trifling with a matter that is more than life and death to me, and you make jokes while I suffer. Do you think I cannot see through all this professed love for Lancy? Do girls in love confess it to a third party so freely and openly? No! Lancy has no place in your heart at all. I have watched you too closely to be mistaken,"and before she was aware of his intention her hands were seized in his strong grasp as he poured out his heart in a torrent of passionate words.
Dexie was moved in spite of herself. She looked into the face so near her, and asked herself the question, "Why could she not love him?" He surely loved her truly, or he would not speak so earnestly. A future such as he could give her would be eagerly grasped by many young girls. She had never thought his face half so expressive as it now appeared to her. Yes, he was very handsome after all; his very soul seemed shining through his eyes, and as he talked she dropped hers before his earnest gaze.
"It is no use," she said at last, in a low tone. "I cannot, I cannot—
'I do not love you, Dr. Fell,The reason why I cannot tell.'"
But, low as the words were, Hugh heard them.
"Never mind the love, Dexie; marry me, and the love will come afterwards."
"No, Mr. McNeil, I will not risk it," was her low reply, as she pulled her hands from his close grasp. "I am quite sure we could not live a week in peace and happiness. There is something in your very presence that raises up the worst feelings in me, and why should I knowingly spoil all my life?"
"It is no risk, Dexie; you shall never have any reason to be vexed with me. Your father is quite ready to accept me as a son-in-law; he trusts me, why cannot you? My darling, you have had time to think it over. Give me your promise; it need not be fulfilled until you wish it."
"I cannot give a promise I have no wish or intention of keeping, and how can you ask such a thing? How can you want an unwilling bride?"
"Never mind me, Dexie. Say you will be my wife sometime, and that will be enough. You will never regret it."
Dexie covered her face with her hands, and thought it over. The few minutes' silence was broken by Hugh, who hoarsely asked:
"Will you give me your promise, Dexie?"
"No, I will not!"
"But you shall! I swear it! Do you think I am not in earnest?" and the love-light in his eyes was dimmed by a harder and fiercer look. "You will return home my promised wife, or not at all!"