Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (40 page)

 
          
“I
find her so. Dinner is over, and I can offer you nothing but a glass of wine.”

 
          
My
uncles
voice was frostily polite, making a curious
contrast to the other, so impetuous and frank, as if used to command or win all
but one.

 
          
“Never
mind the dinner!
Im glad to be rid of it; so Fll drink your
health, Father, and then inspect our new ornament.”

 
          
“Impertinent boy!”
I muttered, yet at the same moment
resolved to deserve his appellation, and immediately grouped myself as
effectively as possible, laughing at my folly as I did so. I possessed a pretty
foot, therefore one little slipper appeared quite naturally below the last
flounce of my dress; a bracelet glittered on my arm as it emerged from among
the lace and carnation knots; that arm supported my head. My profile was well
cut, my eyelashes long, therefore I read with face half averted from the door.
The light showered down, turning my hair to gold; so I smoothed my curls,
retied my snood, and, after a satisfied survey, composed myself with an
absorbed aspect and a quickened pulse to await the arrival of the gentlemen.

 
          
Soon
they came. I knew they paused on the threshold, but never stirred till an
irrepressible “You are right, sir!” escaped the younger.

 
          
Then
I rose prepared to give him the coldest greeting, yet I did not. I had almost
expected to meet the boyish face and figure of the picture; I saw instead a man
comely and tall. A dark moustache half hid the proud mouth; the vivacious eyes
were far kinder, though quite as keen as his fathers; and the freshness of
unspoiled youth lent a charm which the older man had lost forever. Guy’s glance
of pleased surprise was flatteringly frank, his smile so cordial, his “Welcome,
cousin!” such a hearty sound that my coldness melted in a breath, my dignity
was all forgotten, and before I could restrain myself I had offered both hands
with the impulsive exclamation “Cousin Guy, I know I shall be very happy here!
Are you glad I have come?”

 
          
“Glad
as I am to see the sun after a November fog.”

 
          
And
bending his tall head, he kissed my hand in the graceful foreign fashion he had
learned abroad. It pleased me mightily, for it was both affectionate and
respectful. Involuntarily I contrasted it with my
uncles
manner, and flashed a significant glance at him as I did so. He understood it,
but only nodded with the satirical look I hated, shook out his paper, and began
to read. I sat down again, careless of myself now; and Guy stood on the rug,
surveying me with an expression of surprise that rather nettled my pride.

 
          
“He
is only a boy, after all; so I need not be daunted by his inches or his airs. I
wonder if he knows I am to be his wife, and likes it.”

 
          
The
thought sent the color to my forehead, my eyes fell, and despite my valiant
resolution I sat like any bashful child before my handsome cousin. Guy laughed
a boyish laugh as he sat down on his
fathers
footstool, saying, while he warmed his slender brown hands, “I beg your pardon,
Sybil. (We won’t be formal, will we?) But I haven’t seen a lady for a month, so
I stare like a boor at sight of a silk gown and highbred face. Are those people
coming, sir?”

 
          
“If
Sybil likes, ask her.”

 
          
“Shall
we have a flock of people here to make it gay for you, Cousin, or do you prefer
our quiet style better; just riding, driving, lounging, and enjoying life, each
in his own way? Henceforth it is to be as you command in such matters.”

 
          
“Let
things go on as they have done then. I don’t care for society, and strangers
wouldn’t make it gay to me, for I like freedom; so do you, I think.”

 
          
“Ah,
don’t
I
!”

 
          
A
cloud flitted over his smiling face, and he punched the fire, as if some vent
were necessary for the sudden gust of petulance that knit his black brows into
a frown, and caused his father to tap him on the shoulder with the bland
request, as he rose to leave the room, “Bring the portfolios and entertain your
cousin; I have letters to write, and Sybil is too tired to care for music
tonight.”

 
          
Guy
obeyed with a shrug of the shoulder his father touched, but lingered in the
recess till my uncle, having made his apologies to me, had left the room; then
my cousin rejoined me, wearing the same cordial aspect I first beheld. Some
restraint was evidently removed, and his natural self appeared. A very winsome
self it was, courteous, gay, and frank, with an undertone of deeper feeling
than I thought to find. I watched him covertly, and soon owned to myself that
he was all I most admired in the ideal hero every girl creates in her romantic
fancy; for I no longer looked upon this young man as my cousin, but my lover,
and through all our future intercourse this thought was always uppermost, full
of a charm that never lost its power.

 
          
Before
the evening ended Guy was kneeling on the rug beside me, our two heads close
together, while he turned the contents of the great portfolio spread before us,
looking each other freely in the face, as I listened and he described, both
breaking into frequent peals of laughter at some odd adventure or comical
mishap in his own travels, suggested by the pictured scenes before us. Guy was
very charming, I my blithest, sweetest self, and when we parted late, my cousin
watched me up the stairs with still another “Good night, Sybil,” as if both
sight and sound were pleasant to him.

 
          
“Is
that your horse Sultan?” I called from my window next morning, as I looked down
upon my cousin, who was coming up the drive from an early gallop on the moors.

 
          
“Yes,
bonny Sybil; come and admire him,” he called back, hat in hand, and a quick
smile rippling over his face.

 
          
I
went, and standing on the terrace, caressed the handsome creature, while Guy
said, glancing up at his fathers undrawn curtains, “If your saddle had come, we
would take a turn before my lord' is ready for breakfast. This autumn air is
the wine you women need.”

 
          
I
yearned to go, and when I willed the way soon appeared; so careless of
bonnetless head and cambric gown, I stretched my hands to him, saying boldly,
“Play young Lochinvar, Guy; I am little and light; take me up before you and
show me the sea.”

 
          
He
liked the daring feat, held out his hand, I stepped on his boot toe, sprang up,
and away we went over the wide moor, where the sun shone in a cloudless heaven,
the lark soared singing from the green grass at our feet, and the September
wind blew freshly from the sea. As we paused on the upland slope, that gave us
a free view of the country for miles, Guy dismounted, and standing with his arm
about the saddle to steady me in my precarious seat, began to talk.

 
          
“Do
you like your new home, Cousin?”

 
          
“More
than I can tell you!”

 
          
“And my father, Sybil?”

 
          
“Both
yes and no to that question, Guy; I hardly know him yet.” “True, but you must
not expect to find him as indulgent and fond as many guardians would be to such
as you. It's not his nature. Yet you can win his heart by obedience, and soon
grow quite at ease with him.” “Bless you! I'm that already, for I fear no one.
Why, I sat on his knee yesterday and smoked a cigarette of his own offering,
though Madame would have fainted if she had seen me; then I slept on his arm an
hour, and he was fatherly kind, though I teased him like a gnat.”

           
“The deuce he was!”

 
 
         
With which energetic expression Guy
frowned at the landscape and harshly checked Sultan’s attempt to browse, while
I wondered what was amiss between father and son, and resolved to discover; but
finding the conversation at an end, started it afresh by asking, “Is any of my
property in this part of the country, Guy? Do you know I am as ignorant as a
baby about my own affairs; for, as long as every whim was gratified and my
purse full, I left the rest to Madame and Uncle, though the first hadn’t a bit
of judgment, and the last I scarcely knew. I never cared to ask questions
before, but now I am intensely curious to know how matters stand.”

 
          
“All
you see is yours, Sybil” was the brief answer.

 
          
“What, that great house, the lovely gardens, these moors, and the
forest stretching to the sea?
I’m glad! I’m glad! But where, then, is
your home, Guy?”

 
          
“Nowhere.”

 
          
At
this I looked so amazed that his gloom vanished in a laugh, as he explained,
but briefly, as if this subject were no pleasanter than the first, “By your
father’s will you were desired to take possession of the old place at eighteen.
You will be that soon; therefore, as your guardian, my father has prepared
things for you, and is to share your home until you marry.”

 
          
“When
will that be, I wonder?” And I stole a glance from under my lashes, wild to
discover if Guy knew of the compact and was a willing party to it.

 
          
His
face was half averted, but over his dark cheek I saw a deep flush rise, as he
answered, stooping to pull a bit of heather, “Soon, I hope, or the gentleman
sleeping there below will be tempted to remain a fixture with you on his knee
as ‘Madame my wife.’ He is not your own uncle, you know.”

 
          
I
smiled at the idea, but Guy did not see it; and seized with a whim to try my
skill with the hawk that seemed inclined to peck at its master, I said
demurely, “Well, why not? I might be very happy if I learned to love him, as I
should, if he were always in that kindest mood of his. Would you like me for a
little mamma, Guy?”

 
          
“No!”
short and sharp as a pistol shot.

 
          
“Then
you must marry and have a home of your own, my son.”

 
          
“Don’t,
Sybil! I’d rather you didn’t see me in a rage, for I’m not a pleasant sight, I
assure you; and I’m afraid I shall be in one if you go on. I early lost my
mother, but I love her tenderly, because my father is not much to me, and I
know if she had lived I should not be what I am.”

 
          
Bitter
was his voice, moody his mien, and all the sunshine gone at once. I looked down
and touched his black hair with a shy caress, feeling both penitent and
pitiful.

 
          
“Dear
Guy, forgive me if I pained you. 1'm a thoughtless creature, but Fm not
malicious, and a word will restrain me if kindly spoken. My home is always
yours, and when my fortune is mine you shall never want, if you are not too
proud to accept help from your own kin. You are a little proud, aren't you?”

 
          
“As Lucifer, to most people.
I think I should not be to you,
for you understand me, Sybil, and with you I hope to grow a better man.”

 
          
He
turned then, and through the lineaments his father had bequeathed him I saw a
look that must have been his mother's, for it was womanly, sweet, and soft, and
lent new beauty to the dark eyes, always kind, and just then very tender. He
had checked his words suddenly, like one who has gone too far, and with that
hasty look into my face had bent his own upon the ground, as if to hide the
unwonted feeling that had mastered him. It lasted but a moment,
then
his old manner returned, as he said gaily, “There drops
your slipper. I've been wondering what kept it on. Pretty thing! They say it is
a foot like this that oftenest tramples on men's hearts. Are you cruel to your
lovers, Sybil?”

 
          
“I
never had one, for Madame guarded me like a dragon, and I led the life of a
nun; but when I do find one I shall try his mettle well before I give up my
liberty.”

 
          
“Poets
say it is sweet to give up liberty for love, and they ought to know,” answered
Guy, with a sidelong glance.