Kitabı oku: «The Hand but Not the Heart; Or, The Life-Trials of Jessie Loring», sayfa 4
CHAPTER VIII
A FEW days after the meeting between Mr. Hendrickson and Miss Loring, as just mentioned, Mr. Dexter received the following communication:
"DEAR SIR—I am scarcely well enough acquainted with you to venture this note and request; but I happen to know of something so vital to your happiness, that I cannot feel conscience-clear and not ask an interview. I shall be at home this evening.
"ALICE DENISON."
Early in the evening, Dexter was at the house of Mrs. Denison.
"You have frightened me my dear madam!" he said, almost abruptly, as he entered the parlor, where he found her awaiting him.
"I have presumed on a slight acquaintance, Mr. Dexter, to ask an interview on a very delicate subject," Mrs. Denison replied. "May I speak freely, and without danger of offending, when no offence is designed?"
"I have not had the pleasure of knowing you intimately, Mrs. Denison," replied the visitor, "but it has been no fault of mine. I have always held you in high regard; and always been gratified with our passing intercourse on the few occasions it has been my privilege to meet you. That you have felt enough concern for my welfare to ask this interview, gratifies me. Say on—and speak freely. I am eager to hear."
"You are about to marry Jessie Loring," said Mrs. Denison.
"I am." And Dexter fixed his eyes with a look of earnest inquiry upon the lady's face.
Mrs. Denison had come to the subject more abruptly than she at first intended, and she was already in doubt as to her next remark; but there could be no holding back now.
"Are you sure, Mr. Dexter, that you possess her undivided heart?"
"I marvel at your question, madam!" he answered, with a start, and in a tone of surprise.
"Calmly, my friend." And Mrs. Denison, who was a woman of remarkably clear perceptions, laid her hand upon his arm. "I am not questioning idly, nor to serve any sinister or hidden purpose—but am influenced by higher motives. Nor am I acting at the instance of another. What passes between us this evening shall be sacred. I said that I knew of something vital to your happiness; therefore I asked this interview. And now ponder well my question, and be certain that you get the right answer."
Dexter let his eyes fall. He sat for a long while silent, but evidently in earnest thought.
"Have you her full, free, glad assent to the approaching union?" asked Mrs. Denison, breaking in upon his silence. She saw a shade of impatience on his countenance as he looked up and checked the words that were on his lips, by saying:
"Marriage is no light thing, my young friend. It is a relation which, more than any other, makes or mars the future; and when entered into, should be regarded as the must solemn act of life. Here all error is fatal. The step once taken, it cannot be retraced. Whether the path be rough or even, it must be pursued to the end. If the union be harmonious—internally so, I mean—peace, joy, interior delight will go on, finding daily increase—if inharmonious, eternal discord will curse the married partners. Do not be angry with me then, for pressing the question—Have you her full, free, glad, assent to the approaching union? If not, pause—for your love-freighted bark may be drifting fast upon the breakers—and not yours only, but hers.
"I have reason to fear, Mr. Dexter," continued Mrs. Denison, seeing that her visitor did not attempt to reply, but sat looking at her in a kind of bewildered surprise, "that you pressed your suit too eagerly, and gained a half unwilling consent. Now, if this be so, you are in great danger of making shipwreck. An ordinary woman—worldly, superficial, half-hearted, or no-hearted—even if she did not really love you, would find ample compensation in your fortune, and in the social advantages it must secure. But depend upon it, sir, these will not fill the aching void that must be in Jessie Loring's heart, if you have no power to fill it with your image—for she is no ordinary woman. I have observed her carefully since this engagement, and grieve to see that she is not happy. Have you seen no change?"
Mrs. Denison waited for an answer.
"She is not so cheerful; I have noticed that," replied the young man.
"Have you ever questioned in your own mind as to the cause?"
"Often."
"And what was the solution!"
"I remain ignorant of the cause."
"Mr. Dexter; I am not ignorant of the cause!"
"Speak, then, in Heaven's name!"
The young man betrayed a deeper excitement than he wished to manifest. He had been struggling with himself.
"Her heart is not yours!" said Mrs. Denison, with suppressed feeling. "It is a hard saying, but I speak it in the hope of saving both you and the maiden from a life of wretchedness."
"By what authority and under what instigation do you say this?" was demanded almost angrily. "You are going a step too far, madam!"
The change in his manner was very sudden.
"I speak from myself only," replied Mrs. Denison, calmly.
"If her heart is not mine, whose is it?" Dexter showed strong excitement.
"I am not her confidant."
"Who is? Somebody must speak from her, if I am to credit your assertion."
"Calm yourself, my young friend," said Mrs. Denison; "there are signs which a woman can read as plainly as if they were written words; and I have felt too deep an interest in this matter not to have marked every sign. Miss Loring is not happy, and the shadow upon her spirit grows darker every day. Before this engagement, her glad soul looked ever out in beauty from her eyes; now—but I need not describe to you the change. You have noted its progress. It is an extreme conclusion that her heart is not in the alliance she is about to form."
A long silence followed.
"If you were certain that I am right—if, with her own lips, Jessie Loring were to confirm what I have said—what then?"
"I would release her from this engagement; and she might go her ways! The world is wide."
He spoke with some bitterness.
"The way is plain, then. From what I have said, you are fully warranted in talking to her without reserve. Quote me if you please. Say that I made bold to assert that you did not possess the key that would unlock the sacred places of her heart; and you may add further, that I say the key is held by another. This will bring the right issue. If she truly loves you, there will be no mistaking her response. If she accepts the release you offer, happy will you be in making the most fortunate escape of your life."
"I will do it!" exclaimed Dexter, rising, "and this very night!"
"If done at all, it were well done quickly," said Mrs. Denison, rising also. "And now, my young friend, let what will be the result, think of me as one who, under the pressure of a high sense of responsibility, has simply discharged a painful duty. I have no personal or private ends to gain; all I desire is to save two hearts from making shipwreck. If successful, I shall have my reward."
"One question, Mrs. Denison," said Dexter, as they were about separating. "Its answer may give me light, and the strength to go forward. I have marked your words and manner very closely; and this is my conclusion: You not only believe that I do not possess the love of Jessie Loring, but your thought points to another man whom you believe does rule in her affections. Am I wrong?"
The suddenness of the question confused Mrs. Denison. Her eyes sunk under his gaze, and for some moments her self possession was lost. But, rallying herself, she answered:
"Not wholly wrong."
Dexter's countenance grew dark.
"His name!—give me his name!"
He spoke with agitation.
"That is going a step too far," said Mrs. Denison, with firmness.
"Is it Hendrickson?"
Dexter looked keenly into the lady's face.
"A step too far, sir," she repeated. "I cannot answer your inquiry."
"You must answer it, madam!" He was imperative. "I demand the yes or no. Is it or is it not Paul Hendrickson?"
"Your calmer reason, sir, will tell you to-morrow that I was right in refusing to give any man's name in this connection," replied Mrs. Denison. "I am pained to see you so much disturbed. My hope was, that you would go to Miss Loring in the grave dignity of manhood—But, while in this spirit of angry excitement, I pray you keep far from her."
"Hendrickson is the man!" said Dexter, his brows still contracting heavily. "But if he still hopes to rival me in Jessie's love, he will find himself vastly in error. No, no, madam! If it is for him you are interested, you had better give it up. I passed him in the race long ago!"
A feeling of disgust arose in the mind of Mrs. Denison, mingled with a stronger feeling of contempt. But she answered without a visible sign of either.
"I am sorry that you have let the form of any person come in to give right thought and honorable purpose a distorting bias. I did hope that you would see Miss Loring under the influence of a better state. And I pray you still to be calm, rational, generous, manly. Go to her in a noble, unselfish spirit. If you love her truly you desire her happiness; and to make her happy, would even release her pledged hand, were such a sacrifice needed."
"You give me credit for more virtue than I claim to possess," was answered, a little sarcastically. "Love desires to hold, not lose its object."
"Enough, my young friend," said Mrs. Denison, in her calm, earnest way. "We will not bandy words—that would be fruitless. I grieve that you should have misunderstood me in even the least thing, or let the slightest suggestion of a sinister motive find a lodgment in your mind. I have had no purpose but a good one to serve, and shall be conscience-clear in the matter. A more delicate task than this was never undertaken. That I have not succeeded according to my wishes, is no matter of surprise."
"Good evening, madam!"
Dexter bowed with a cold formality.
"Good evening!" was mildly returned.
And so the young man went away.
"I fear that only harm will come of this," said Mrs. Denison, as she retired from the door. "I meant it for the best, and pray that no evil may follow the indiscretion, if such it be!"
CHAPTER IX
MRS. DENISON'S fears were prophetic. Evil, not good, came of her well meant efforts to prevent the coming sacrifice. Instead of awakening generous impulses in the mind of Leon Dexter, only anger and jealousy were aroused; and as they gained strength, love withdrew itself, for love could not breathe the same atmosphere. The belief that Hendrickson was the man to whom Mrs. Denison referred, was fully confirmed by this fact. Dexter had resolved to see Miss Loring that very evening, and was only a short distance from her home, and in sight of the door, when he saw a man ascend the steps and ring. He stopped and waited. A servant came to the door and the caller entered. For a time, the question was revolved as to whether he should follow, or not.
"It is Hendrickson. I'll wager my life on it!"—he muttered, grinding his teeth together. "There is a cursed plot on foot, and this insinuating, saintly Mrs. Denison, is one of the plotters! My very blood is seething at the thought. Shall I go in now, and confront him at his devilish work?"
"It were better not," he said, after a brief struggle with his feelings. "I am too excited, and cannot answer for myself. A false step now might ruin all. First, let me cage my singing bird, and then"—
He strode onwards and passed the house of Mrs. Loring with rapid steps. There was a light in the parlor, and he heard the sound of voices. Ten minutes after, he returned—the light was there still; but though he went by slowly, with noiseless footsteps—listening—not a murmur reached his ears.
"He is there, a subtle tempter, whispering his honeyed allurements!" It was the fiend Jealousy speaking in his heart. "Madness!" he ejaculated, and he strode up the marble steps. Grasping the bell, he resolved to enter. But something held back his hand, and another voice said—"Wait! Wait! A single error now were fatal."
Slowly he descended, his ear bent to the windows, listening—slowly, still listening, he moved onwards again; his whole being convulsed in a stronger conflict of passion than he had ever known—reason at fault and perception blindfold.
A full half hour had elapsed, when Dexter reappeared. He was in a calmer frame of mind. Reason was less at fault, and perception clearer. His purpose was to go in now, confront Jessie and Mr. Hendrickson, and act from that point onward as the nature of the case might suggest. He glanced at the parlor windows. There was no light there now. The visitor had departed. He felt relieved, yet disappointed.
"Is Miss Loring at home?" he asked of the servant.
"Yes, sir." And he entered. The lights, which were burning low in the parlors, were raised, and Dexter sat down and awaited the appearance of Jessie.
How should he meet her? With the warmth of a lover, or the distance of a mere acquaintance? Would it be wise to speak of his interview with Mrs. Denison, or let that subject pass untouched by even the remotest allusion? Mr. Dexter was still in debate, when he heard some one descending the stairs. Steps were in the passage near the door. He arose, and stood expectant.
"Miss Loring says, will you please excuse her this evening?"
"Excuse her!" Mr. Dexter could not veil his surprise. "Why does she wish to be excused, Mary?"
"I don't know sir. She didn't say."
"Is she sick?"
"I don't think she is very well. Something isn't right with her, poor child!"
"What isn't right with her?"
"I don't know, sir. But she was crying when I went into her room."
"Crying?"
"Yes, sir; and she cries a great deal, all alone there by herself, sir," added Mary, who had her own reasons for believing that Dexter was not really the heart-choice of Jessie—and with the tact of her sex, took it upon herself to throw a little cold water over his ardor. It may be that she hoped to give it a thorough chill.
"What does she cry about, Mary?"
"Dear knows, sir! I often wonder to see it, and she so soon to be married. It doesn't look just natural. There's something wrong."
"Wrong? How wrong, Mary?"
"That's just what I asked myself over and over again," replied the girl.
"She had a visitor here to-night," said Dexter, after a moment or two. He tried to speak indifferently; but the quick perception of Mary detected the covert interest in his tones.
"Yes." A single cold monosyllable was her reply.
"Who was he?"
"'Deed I don't know, sir."
"Was he a stranger?"
"I didn't see him, sir," answered Mary.
"You let him in?"
"No, sir. The cook went to the door."
Dexter bit his lips with disappointment.
"Will you say to Miss Loring that I wish to see her particularly to-night."
Mary hesitated.
"Why don't you take up my request?" He spoke with covert impatience.
"I am sure she wishes to be excused to-night," persisted the girl. "She's not at all herself; and it will be cruel to drag her down."
But Dexter waved his hand, and said, sharply:
"I wish to hear no more from you, Miss Pert! Go to Miss Loring, and tell her that she will confer a favor by seeing me this evening. I can receive no apology but sickness."
Jessie was sitting as Mary had left her, both hands covering her face, when that kind-hearted creature returned.
"It's too much!" exclaimed the girl, as she entered. "He must see you, he says. I told him you wasn't well, and wished to be excused. But no, he must see you! Something's gone wrong with him. He's all out of sorts, and spoke as if he'd take my head off. He really frightened me!"
Jessie drew a long deep sigh.
"If I must, I must," she said, rising and looking at her face in the mirror.
"I wouldn't go one step, Miss Jessie, if I were you. I'd like to see the man who dared order me down in this style. He's jealous; that's the long and short of it. Punish him—he deserves it."
"Jealous, Mary?" Miss Loring turned to the girl with a startled look. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, he asked me if you hadn't a visitor to-night."
"Well?"
"I said yes. Only 'yes,' and no more."
"Why yes, and no more?" asked Miss Loring.
"D'ye think I was going to gratify him! What business had he to ask whether you had a visitor or not? You ain't sold to him."
"Mary!" There was reproof in the look and voice of Miss Loring. "You must not speak so of Mr. Dexter."
"Well, I won't if it displeases you. But I was downright mad with him."
"You said yes to his question. What then, Mary?"
"Oh, then he wanted to know who he was."
"Did you tell him?"
"No."
"Why? And what did you answer?"
"I wasn't going to gratify him; and I said that I didn't know."
"Well?"
"'Was he a stranger?' said he. 'I didn't see him,' said I. 'You let him in?' said he. 'No, the cook went to the door,' said I. You should have seen him then. He was baffled. Then looking almost savage, he bid me tell you that you must see him to-night."
"Must see him! Did he say must?"
There was rebellion in Jessie's voice.
"Well no, not just that word. But he looked and meant it, which is all the same."
"Then he doesn't know who called to see me?"
"Not from all he got from me, miss. But you're not going down?"
"Yes, Mary; I will see him as he desires. Go and say that I will join him in a few minutes."
The girl obeyed, and Jessie, after struggling a few moments with her feelings, went down to the parlor, where Mr. Dexter awaited her.
"I am sorry to learn that you are not well this evening," said the young man, as he advanced across the room, with his eyes fixed intently on the face of his betrothed. She tried to smile, and receive him with her usual kindness of manner. But this was impossible. She had been profoundly disturbed, and that too recently for self-possession.
"What ails you? Has anything happened?"
Jessie had not yet trusted her lips with words. The tones of Dexter evinced some fretfulness.
"I am not very well," she said, partly turning away her face that she might avoid the searching scrutiny of his eyes.
Dexter took her hand and led her to a sofa. They sat down, side by side, in silence—ice between them.
"Have you been indisposed all day?" inquired Dexter.
"I have not been very well for some time," was answered in a husky voice, and in a manner that he thought evasive.
Again there was silence.
"I called to see Mrs. Denison this evening," said Dexter; and then waited almost breathlessly for a response, looking at Jessie stealthily to note the effect of his words.
"Did you?"
There was scarcely a sign of interest in her voice.
"Yes. You have met her, I believe?"
"A few times."
"Have you seen her recently?"
"No."
Dexter gained nothing by this advance.
"What do you think of her?" he added, after a pause.
"She is a lady of fine social qualities and superior worth."
Again the young man was silent. He could not discover by Jessie's manner that she had any special interest in Mrs. Denison. This was some relief; for it removed the impression that there was an understanding between them.
"I don't admire her a great deal," he said, with an air of indifference. "She's a little too prying and curious; and I'm afraid, likes to gossip."
"Ah! I thought her particularly free from that vice."
"I had that impression also. But my interview this evening gave me a different estimate of her character."
"Did you come from Mrs. Denison's directly here?" asked Jessie in a changed tone, as if some thought of more than common interest had flitted through her mind. This change Dexter did not fail to observe.
"I did," was his answer.
"Then I may infer," said Jessie, "that your pressing desire to see me this evening has grown out of something you heard from the lips of Mrs. Denison. Am I right in this conclusion?"
Dexter was not quite prepared for this. After a slight hesitation he answered—
"Partly so."
The cold indifferent manner of Jessie Loring passed away directly.
"If you have anything to communicate, as of course you have, say on, Mr. Dexter."
As little prepared was he for this; and quite as little for the almost stately air with which Jessie drew up her slight form, returning his glances with so steady a gaze that his eyes fell.
The hour and the opportunity had come. But Leon Dexter had neither the manliness nor the courage to speak.
"Did Mrs. Denison introduce my name?" asked Jessie, seeing that her lover had failed to answer. There was not a quiver in her voice, nor the slightest failing in her eyes.
"Yes; casually." Dexter spoke with evasion.
"What did she say?"
"Nothing but what was good," said Dexter, now trying to resume his wonted pleasant exterior. "What else could she say? You look as if there had been a case of slander."
"She said something in connection with my name," answered Jessie firmly, "that disturbed you. Now as you have disclosed so much, I must know all."
"I have made no disclosures." Dexter seemed annoyed.
"You said you were at Mrs. Denison's."
"Yes."
"And said it with a meaning. I noticed both tone and manner. You came directly here, according to your own admission, and asked for me. Not being well, I desired to be excused. But you would take no excuse. Your manner to the servant was not only disturbed, but imperative. To me it is constrained, and altogether different from anything I have hitherto noticed. So much is disclosed. Now I wish you to go on and tell the whole story. Then we shall understand each other. What has Mrs. Denison said about me that has so ruffled your feelings?"
There was no retreat for the perplexed young man. He must go forward in some path—straight or tortuous—manly or evasive. There was too much apparent risk in the former; and so he chose the latter. All at once his exterior changed. The clouded brow put on a sunny aspect.
"Forgive me, dear Jessie!" he said with ardor, and a restored tenderness of manner. "True love has ever a touch of jealousy; and something that Mrs. Denison intimated aroused that darker passion. But the shadowed hour has passed, and I am in the clear sunlight again."
He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it with fervor.
"What did she intimate?" asked Miss Loring. Her manner was less excited, and her tone less imperative.
"What I now see to be false," said Dexter. "I was disturbed because I imagined intrigue, and a purpose to rob me of something I prize more dearly than life—the love of my Jessie."
"Intrigue!" was answered; "you fill me with surprise. Mrs. Denison, if I understand her, is incapable of anything so dishonorable."
"I don't know." Mr. Dexter spoke with the manner of one in doubt, and as if questioning his own thoughts. "She has filled my mind with dark suspicions. Why, Jessie!" and he assumed a more animated exterior, "she went so far as to intimate a disingenuous spirit in you!"
"In me!" Miss Loring's surprise was natural. "Disingenuousness!"
"That word is not the true one," said Dexter. "What she said meant something more."
"What?"
"That you were—but I will not pain your ears, darling! Forgive my foolish indignation. Love with me is so vital a thing, that the remotest suspicion of losing its object, brings smarting pain. You are all the world to me, Jessie, and the intimation"—
"Of what, Leon?"
He had left the sentence unfinished. Dexter was holding one of her hands. She did not attempt to withdraw it.
"That you were false to me!"
The words caused Miss Loring to spring to her feet. Bright spots burned on her cheeks, and her eyes flashed.
"False to you! What did she mean by such words?" was demanded.
"It was the entering wedge of suspicion," said Dexter. "But the trick has failed. My heart tells me that you are the soul of honor. If I was disturbed, is that a cause of wonder? Would not such an allegation against me have disturbed you? It would! But that your heart is pure and true as an angel's, I best know of all the living. Dear Jessie!" and he laid a kiss upon her burning cheek.
"I shall never cease to blame myself for the part I have played this evening. Had I loved you less I had been calmer."
"False in what way?" asked Miss Loring, unsatisfied with so vague an answer.
"False to your vows, of course. What else could she mean?"
"Did she say that?"
"No—of course not. But she conveyed the meaning as clearly as if she had uttered the plainest language."
"What were her words?" asked Miss Loring.
"I cannot repeat them. She spoke with great caution, keeping remote, as to words, from the matter first in her thought, yet filling my mind with vague distrust, or firing it with jealousy at every sentence."
"Can you fix a single clear remark—something that I can repeat?"
"Not one. The whole interview impresses me like a dream. Only the disturbance remains. But let it pass as a dream, darling—a nightmare created by some spirit of evil. A single glance into your dear face and loving eyes rebukes my folly and accuses me of wrong. We are all the world to each other, and no shadow even shall come again between our souls and happiness."
Jessie resumed her seat and questioned no farther. Was she satisfied with the explanation? Of course not. But her lover was adroit, and she became passive.
"You cannot wonder now," he said, "that I was so anxious to see you this evening. I might have spared you this interview, and it would have been better, perhaps, if I had done so. But excited lovers are not always the most reasonable beings in the world. I could not have slept to-night. Now I shall find the sweetest slumber that has yet refreshed my spirit—and may your sleep, dearest, be gentle as the sleep of flowers! I will leave you now, for I remember that you are far from being well this evening. It will grieve me to think that my untimely intrusion, and this disturbing hour, may increase the pain you suffer or rob you of a moment's repose.—Good night, love!" and he kissed her tenderly. "Good night, precious one!" he added. "May angels be your companions through the dark watches, and bring you to a glorious morning!"
He left her, and moved towards the door; yet lingered, for his mind was not wholly at ease in regard to the state of Jessie's feelings. She had not repelled him in any way—but his ardent words and acts were too passively received. She was standing where he had parted from her, with her eyes upon the floor.
"Jessie!"
She looked up.
"Good night, dear!"
"Good night, Mr. Dexter."
"Mr. Dexter!" The young man repeated the words between his teeth, as he passed into the street a moment afterwards. "Mr. Dexter! and in tones that were cold as an icicle!"
He strode away from the house of Mrs. Loring, but little comforted by his interview with Jessie, and with the fiend Jealousy a permanent guest in his heart.
