Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (37 page)

 
          
Then
a sense of power came to him, for helpless, poor, and seemingly an object of
pity, he yet felt that he held the honor, peace, and happiness of nearly every
person present in his hands. It was a strong temptation to this man, so full of
repressed passion and power, so set apart and shut out from the more stirring
duties and pleasures of life. A few words from his lips, and the pity all felt
for him would be turned to fear, respect, and admiration. Why not utter them,
and enjoy all that was possible? He owed the Trehernes nothing; why suffer injustice,
dependence, and the compassion that wounds a proud man deepest? Wealth, love,
pleasure might be his with a breath. Why not secure them now?

 
          
His
pale face flushed, his eye kindled, and his thin hand lay clenched like a vise
as these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind. A look, a word at that
moment would sway him; he felt it, and leaned forward, waiting in secret
suspense for the glance, the speech which should decide him for good or ill.
Who shall say what subtle instinct caused Octavia to turn and smile at him with
a wistful, friendly look that warmed his heart? He met it with an answering
glance, which thrilled her strangely, for love, gratitude, and some mysterious
intelligence met and mingled in the brilliant yet soft expression which swiftly
shone and faded in her face. What it was she could not tell; she only felt that
it filled her with an indescribable emotion never experienced before. In an
instant it all passed, Lady Treherne spoke to her, and Blanche Talbot addressed
Maurice, wondering, as she did so, if the enchanting smile he wore was meant
for her.

 
          
"Mr.
Annon having mercifully set me free, I came to try to cheer your solitude; but
you look as if solitude made you happier than society does the rest of
us," she said without her usual affectation, for his manner impressed her.

 
          
"You
are very kind and very welcome. I do find pleasures to beguile my loneliness,
which gayer people would not enjoy, and it is well that I can, else I should
turn morose and tyrannical, and doom some unfortunate to entertain me all day
long." He answered with a gentle courtesy which was his chief attraction
to womankind.

 
          
"Pray
tell me some of your devices, I'm often alone in spirit, if not so in the
flesh, for Rose, though a dear
girl,
is not congenial,
and I find no kindred soul."

 
          
A
humorous glimmer came to Treherne's eyes, as the sentimental damsel beamed a
soft sigh and
drooped
her long lashes effectively.
Ignoring the topic of "kindred souls," he answered coldly, "My
favorite amusement is studying the people around me. It may be rude, but tied
to my corner, I cannot help watching the figures around me, and discovering
their little plots and plans. I'm getting very expert, and really surprise
myself sometimes by the depth of my researches."

 
          
"I
can believe it; your eyes look as if they possessed that gift. Pray don't study
me
." And the girl shrank away with an air of genuine alarm.

 
          
Treherne
smiled involuntarily, for he had read the secret of that shallow heart long
ago, and was too generous to use the knowledge, however flattering it might be
to him. In a reassuring tone he said, turning away the keen eyes she feared,
"I give you my word I never will, charming as it might be to study the
white pages of a maidenly heart. I find plenty of others to read, so rest
tranquil, Miss Blanche."

 
          
"Who
interests you most just now?" asked the girl, coloring with pleasure at
his words. "Mrs. Snowdon looks like one who has a romance to be read, if
you have the skill."

 
          
"I
have read it. My lady is my study just now. I thought I knew her well, but of
late she puzzles me. Human minds are
more full
of
mysteries than any written book and more changeable than the cloud shapes in
the air."

 
          
"A
fine old lady, but I fear her so intensely I should never dare to try to read
her, as you say." Blanche looked toward the object of discussion as she
spoke, and added, "Poor Tavia, how forlorn she seems. Let me ask her to
join us, may I?"

 
          
"With
all my heart" was the quick reply.

 
          
Blanche
glided away but did not return, for my lady kept her as well as her daughter.

 
          
"That
test satisfies me; well, I submit for a time, but I think I can conquer my aunt
yet." And with a patient sigh Treherne turned to observe Mrs. Snowdon.

 
          
She
now stood by the fire talking with Sir Jasper, a handsome, reckless,
generous-hearted young gentleman, who very plainly showed his great admiration
for the lady. When he came, she suddenly woke up from her listless mood and
became as brilliantly gay as she had been unmistakably melancholy before. As
she chatted, she absently pushed to and fro a small antique urn of bronze on
the chimneypiece, and in doing so she more than once gave Treherne a quick,
significant glance, which he answered at last by a somewhat haughty nod. Then,
as if satisfied, she ceased toying with the ornament and became absorbed in Sir
Jasper's gallant badinage.

 
          
The
instant her son approached Mrs. Snowdon, Madame Mère grew anxious, and leaving
Octavia to her friends and lover, she watched Jasper. But her surveillance
availed little, for she could neither see nor hear anything amiss, yet could
not rid herself of the feeling that some mutual understanding existed between
them. When the party broke up for the night, she lingered till all were gone
but her son and nephew.

 
          
"Well,
Madame Ma Mère, what troubles you?" asked Sir Jasper, as she looked
anxiously into his face before bestowing her good-night kiss.

 
          
"I
cannot tell, yet I feel ill at ease. Remember, my
son, that
you are the pride of my heart, and any sin or shame of yours would kill me.
Good night, Maurice." And with a stately bow she swept away.

 
          
Lounging
with both elbows on the low chimneypiece, Sir Jasper smiled at his mother's
fears, and said to his cousin, the instant they were alone, "She is
worried about E.S. Odd, isn't it, what instinctive antipathies women take to
one another?"

 
          
"Why
did you ask E.S. here?" demanded Treherne.

 
          
"My
dear fellow, how could I help it? My mother wanted the general, my father's
friend, and of course his wife must be asked also. I couldn't tell my mother
that the lady had been a most arrant coquette, to put it mildly, and had
married the old man in a pet, because my cousin and I declined to be ruined by
her."

 
          
"You
could
have told her what mischief she makes wherever she goes, and for
Octavia's sake have deferred the general's visit for a time. I warn you,
Jasper, harm will come of it."

 
          
"To whom, you or me?"

 
          
"To both, perhaps, certainly to you.
She was
disappointed once when she lost us both by wavering between your title and my
supposed fortune. She is miserable with the old man, and her only hope is in
his death, for he is very feeble. You are
free,
and
doubly attractive now, so beware, or she will entangle you before you know
it."

 
          
"Thanks,
Mentor. I've no fear, and shall merely amuse myself for a week—they stay no
longer." And with a careless laugh, Sir Jasper strolled away.

 
          
"Much
mischief may be done in a week, and this is the beginning of it," muttered
Treherne, as he raised himself to look under the bronze vase for the note. It
was gone!

 
          
Who
had taken it? This question tormented Treherne all that sleepless night. He
suspected three persons, for only these had approached the fire after the note
was hidden. He had kept his eye on it, he thought, till the stir of breaking
up. In that moment it must have been removed by the major, Frank Annon, or my
lady; Sir Jasper was out of the question, for he never touched an ornament in
the drawing room since he had awkwardly demolished a whole
étagère
of
costly trifles, to his mother's and sister's great grief. The major evidently
suspected something, Annon was jealous, and my lady would be glad of a pretext
to remove her daughter from his reach. Trusting to his skill in reading faces,
he waited impatiently for morning, resolving to say nothing to anyone but Mrs.
Snowdon, and from her merely to inquire what the note contained.

 
          
Treherne
usually was invisible till lunch, often till dinner; therefore, fearing to
excite suspicion by unwonted activity, he did not appear till
noon
. The mailbag had just been opened, and
everyone was busy over their letters, but all looked up to exchange a word with
the newcomer, and Octavia impulsively turned to meet him, then checked herself
and hid her suddenly crimsoned face behind a newspaper. Treherne's eye took in
everything, and saw at once in the unusually late arrival of the mail a pretext
for discovering the pilferer of the note.

 
          
"All
have letters but me, yet I expected one last night. Major, have you got it
among yours?" And as he spoke, Treherne fixed his penetrating eyes full on
the person he addressed.

 
          
With
no sign of consciousness, no trace of confusion, the major carefully turned
over his pile, and replied in the most natural manner, "Not a trace of it;
I wish there was, for nothing annoys me more than any delay or mistake about my
letters."

 
          
He
knows nothing of it, thought Treherne, and turned to Annon, who was deep in a
long epistle from some intimate friend, with a talent for imparting news, to
judge from the reader's interest.

 
          
"Annon,
I appeal to you, for I
must
discover who has robbed me of my
letter."

 
          
"I
have but
one,
read it, if you will, and satisfy
yourself" was the brief reply.

 
          
"No,
thank you. I merely asked in joke; it is doubtless among my lady's. Jasper's
letters and mine often get mixed, and my lady takes care of his for him. I
think you must have it, Aunt."

 
          
Lady
Treherne looked up impatiently.
"My dear Maurice, what a
coil about a letter!
We none of us have it, so do not punish us for the
sins of your correspondent or the carelessness of the post."

 
          
She
was not the thief, for she is always intensely polite when she intends to
thwart me, thought Treherne, and, apologizing for his rudeness in disturbing
them, he rolled himself to his nook in a sunny window and became apparently
absorbed in a new magazine.

 
          
Mrs.
Snowdon was opening the general's letters for him, and, having finished her
little task, she roamed away into the library, as if in search of a book.
Presently returning with one, she approached Treherne, and, putting it into his
hand, said, in her musically distinct voice, "Be so kind as to find for me
the passage you spoke of last night. I am curious to see it."

 
          
Instantly
comprehending her stratagem, he opened it with apparent carelessness, secured
the tiny note laid among the leaves, and, selecting a passage at hazard,
returned her book and resumed his own. Behind the cover of it he unfolded and
read these words:

 
          
 
I understand, but do not be anxious; the
line I left was merely this—"I must see you alone, tell me when and
where." No one can make much of it, and I will discover the thief before
dinner. Do nothing, but watch to whom I speak first on entering, when we meet
in the evening, and beware of that person.

 
          
Quietly
transferring the note to the fire with the wrapper of the magazine, he
dismissed the matter from his mind and left Mrs. Snowdon to play detective as
she pleased, while he busied himself about his own affairs.

 
          
It
was a clear, bright December day, and when the young people separated to
prepare for a ride, while the general and the major sunned
themselves
on the terrace, Lady Treherne said to her nephew, "I am going for an
airing in the pony carriage. Will you be my escort, Maurice?"

 
          
"With
pleasure," replied the young man, well knowing what was in store for him.

 
          
My
lady was unusually taciturn and grave, yet seemed anxious to say something
which she found difficult to utter. Treherne saw this, and ended an awkward
pause by dashing boldly into the subject which occupied both.

 
          
"I
think you want to say something to me about Tavie, Aunt. Am I right?"

 
          
"Yes."

 
          
"Then
let me spare you the pain of beginning, and prove my sincerity by openly
stating the truth, as far as I am concerned. I love her very dearly, but I am
not mad enough to dream of telling her so. I know that it is impossible, and I
relinquish my hopes. Trust me. I will keep silent and see her marry Annon
without a word of complaint, if you will it. I see by her altered manner that
you have spoken to
her,
and that my little friend and
nurse is to be mine no longer. Perhaps you are wise, but if you do this on my
account, it is in vain—the mischief is done, and while I live I shall love my
cousin. If you do it to spare her, I am dumb, and will go away rather than
cause her a care or pain."

 
          
"Do
you really mean this, Maurice?" And Lady Treherne looked at him with a
changed and softened face.

 
          
Turning
upon her, Treherne showed her a countenance full of suffering and sincerity, of
resignation and resolve, as he said earnestly, "I do mean it; prove me in
any way you please. I am not a bad fellow, Aunt, and I desire to be better.
Since my misfortune I've had time to test many things, myself among others, and
in spite of many faults, I do cherish the wish to keep my soul honest and true,
even though my body be a wreck. It is easy to say these things, but in spite of
temptation, I think I can stand firm, if you trust me."

 
          
"My
dear boy, I do trust you, and thank you gratefully for this frankness. I never
forget that I owe Jasper's life to you, and never expect to repay that debt.
Remember this when I seem cold or unkind, and remember also that I say now, had
you been spared this affliction, I would gladly have given you my girl.
But—"

 
          
"But,
Aunt, hear one thing," broke in Treherne. "They tell me that any
sudden and violent shock of surprise, joy, or sorrow may do for me what they
hope time will achieve. I said nothing of this, for it is but a chance; yet,
while there is any hope, need I utterly renounce Octavia?"

 
          
"It
is hard to refuse, and yet I cannot think it wise to build upon a chance so
slight. Once let her have you, and both are made unhappy, if the
hope fail
. No, Maurice, it is better to be generous, and
leave her free to make her own happiness elsewhere. Annon loves her, she is
heart-whole, and will soon learn to love him, if you are silent. My poor boy,
it seems cruel, but I must say it."

 
          
"Shall
I go away, Aunt?" was all his answer, very firmly uttered, though his lips
were white.

 
          
"Not
yet, only leave them to themselves, and hide your trouble if you can. Yet, if
you prefer, you shall go to town, and Benson shall see that you are
comfortable. Your health will be a reason, and I will come, or write often, if
you are homesick. It shall depend on you, for I want to be just and kind in
this hard case. You shall decide."

 
          
"Then
I will stay. I can hide my love; and to see them together will soon cease to
wound me, if Octavia is happy."

 
          
"So
let it rest then, for a time. You shall miss your companion as little as
possible, for I will try to fill her place. Forgive me, Maurice, and pity a
mother's solicitude, for these two are the last of many children, and I am a
widow now."

 
          
Lady
Treherne's voice faltered, and if any selfish hope or plan lingered in her
nephew's mind, that appeal banished it and touched his better nature. Pressing
her hand he said gently, "Dear Aunt, do not lament over me. I am one set
apart for afflictions, yet I will not be conquered by them. Let us forget my
youth and be friendly counselors together for the good of the two whom we both
love. I must say a word about Jasper, and you will not press me to explain more
than I can without breaking my promise."

 
          
"Thank
you, thank you! It is regarding that woman, I know. Tell me all you can; I will
not be importunate, but I disliked
her the
instant I
saw her, beautiful and charming as she seems."

 
          
"When
my cousin and I were in
Paris
, just before my illness, we met her. She was with her father then, a
gay old man who led a life of pleasure, and was no fit guardian for a lovely
daughter. She knew our story and, having fascinated both, paused to decide
which she would accept: Jasper, for his title, or me, for my fortune. This was before
my uncle changed his will, and I believed myself his heir; but, before she made
her choice, something (don't ask me what, if you please) occurred to send us
from
Paris
. On our return voyage we were wrecked, and
then came my illness, disinheritance, and helplessness. Edith Dubarry heard the
story, but rumor reported it falsely, and she believed both of us had lost the
fortune. Her father died penniless, and in a moment of despair she married the
general, whose wealth surrounds her with the luxury she loves, and
whose
failing health will soon restore her liberty—"

 
          
"And
then, Maurice?" interrupted my lady.

 
          
"She
hopes to win Jasper, I think."

 
          
"Never!
We must prevent that at all costs. I had rather
see him dead before me, than the husband of such a woman. Why is she permitted
to visit homes like mine? I should have been told this sooner," exclaimed
my lady angrily.

 
          
"I
should have told you had I known it, and I reproved Jasper for his neglect. Do
not be needlessly troubled, Aunt. There is no blemish on Mrs. Snowdon's name,
and, as the wife of a brave and honorable man, she is received without
question; for beauty, grace, or tact like hers can make their way anywhere. She
stays but a week, and I will devote myself to her; this will save Jasper, and, if
necessary, convince Tavie of my indifference—" Then he paused to stifle a
sigh.

 
          
"But
yourself, have you no fears for your own peace, Maurice? You must not sacrifice
happiness or honor, for me or mine."

 
          
"I
am safe; I love my cousin, and that is my shield. Whatever happens remember
that I tried to serve you, and sincerely endeavored to forget myself."

 
          
"God
bless you, my son! Let me call you so, and feel that, though I deny you my
daughter, I give you heartily a mother's care and affection."

 
          
Lady
Treherne was as generous as she was proud, and her nephew had conquered her by
confidence and submission. He acted no part, yet, even in relinquishing all, he
cherished a hope that he might yet win the heart he coveted. Silently they
parted, but from that hour a new and closer bond existed between the two, and
exerted an unsuspected influence over the whole household.