XV.
THE BEGINNING OF CHANGES.
As Frank went by the house early the next morning on his way to thetrain, he paused and glanced at one of the upper windows, where he hadonce before seen Hermione's face looking out. The blinds were closed,but the slats were slightly turned, and through them he thought, but hecould not be quite sure, he caught the glimpse of a pair of flashingeyes. In the hope that this was so, he laid his hand upon the gate andthen glanced up again, as if asking permission to open it. The blindsmoved and in another instant fell back, and he saw the face he loved,looking very pale but sweet, bending towards him from the clusteringhoneysuckles.
"May I come in," he asked, "just for a few words more? You know we wereinterrupted last night."
She shook her head, and his heart sank; then she seemed to repent herdecision and half opened her lips as if to speak, but no words came. Hekept his hand on the gate, and his face grew eloquent.
"You cannot say no," he now pleaded, smiling at the blush that wasslowly mantling on her cheek. "I may not be here again for weeks, and ifyou do not let me say good-by I shall always think I have displeasedyou, and that will not add to my happiness or peace."
"Wait," came in sudden eagerness from her lips, and he saw her disappearfrom the window and appear, almost before he could realize his ownrelief, in the open door-way before him. "Come in," said she, with thefirst full glad smile he had ever seen on her lips.
But though he bounded up the steps he did not enter the house. Insteadof that he seized her hand and tried to induce her to come out in theopen air to him. "No close rooms," said he, "on such a morning as this.Come into the poplar-walk, come; let me see you with the wind blowingyour hair about your cheeks."
"No, no!" burst from her lips in something almost like fright. "Emmagoes into the garden, but not I. Do not ask me to break the habit ofmonths, do not."
But he was determined, tenderly, firmly determined.
"I must," said he; "I must. Your white cheeks and worn face demand thefreshness of out-door air. I do not say you must go outside the gate,but I do say you must feel again what it is to have the poplars rustleabove your head and the grass close lovingly over your feet. So come,Hermione, come, for I will not take no, I will not, even from the lipswhose business it shall be to command me in everything else."
His eyes entreated her, his hand constrained her; she sought to dobattle with his will, but her glances fell before the burning ardor ofhis. With a sudden wild heave of her breast, she yielded, and he drewher down into the garden and so around to the poplar-walk. As she wentthe roses came out on her cheeks, and she seemed to breathe like acreature restored to life.
"Oh, the blue, blue sky!" she cried, "and oh, the hills! I have not seenthem for a year. As for the poplars, I should love to kiss their oldboughs, I am so glad to be beneath them once more."
But as she proceeded farther her spirits seemed to droop again, and shecast him furtive looks as much as to say:
"Is it right? ought I to be enjoying all this bliss?"
But the smile on his face was so assured, she speedily took courageagain, and allowed him to lead her to the end of the poplar-walk, far upin those regions where his eye had often strayed but his feet never beeneven in fancy. On a certain bench they sat down, and he turned towardsher a beaming face.
"Now I feel as if you were mine," he cried. "Nothing shall part us afterthis, not even your own words."
But she put her hands out with a meek, deprecating gesture, very unlikethe imperious one she had indulged in before.
"You must not say that," she cried. "My coming out may have been aweakness, but it shall not be followed by what you yourself might cometo regard as a wrong. I am here, and it was for your pleasure I came,but that commits me to nothing and you to nothing, unless it be to themomentary delight. Do you hear that bird sing?"
"You are lovely with that flickering sunlight on your face," was all thereply he made.
And perhaps he could have made no better, for it gave her a sweet senseof helplessness in the presence of this great love, which to a woman whohad been so long bearing herself up in solitary assertion had all theeffect of rest and relief.
"You make me feel as if my youth was not quite gone," said she; "but,"she added, as his hand stole towards hers, "you have not yet made mefeel that I must listen to all the promptings of love. There is a gulfbetween me and you across which we cannot shake hands. But we can speak,friend, to one another, and that is a pleasure to one who has travelledso long in a wilderness alone. Shall we not let that content us, or doyou wish to risk life and all by attempting more?"
"I wish to risk everything, anything, so as to make you mine."
"You do not know what you are saying. We are talking pure foolishness,"was her sudden exclamation, as she leapt to her feet. "Here, in thispure air, and in sight of the fields and hills, the narrow, confiningbands which have held me to the house seem to lose their power andpartake of the unsubstantiality of a dream. But I know that with myrecrossing of the threshold they will resume their power again, and Ishall wonder I could ever talk of freedom or companionship with one whodoes not know the secrets of the house or the shadow which has been castby them upon my life."
"You know them, and yet you would go back," he cried. "I should say thewiser course would be to turn away from a place so fatal to yourhappiness and hopes, and, yielding to my entreaties, go with me to thecity, where we will be married, and----"
"Frank, what a love you have for me! a love which questions nothing, noteven my past, notwithstanding I say it is that past which separates usand makes me the recluse I am."
"You have filled me with trust by the pure look in your eyes," said he."Why should I ask you to harrow up your feelings by telling me what youwould have told me long ago, if it had not been too painful?"
"You are a great, good man," she cried. "You subdue me who have neverbeen subdued before, except by my own passionate temper. I reverence youand I--love--you. Do not ask me to say anything more." And the queenly,imperious form swayed from side to side, and the wild tears gushedforth, and she fled from his side down the poplar-walk, till she camewithin sight of the house, when she paused, gathering up her strengthtill he reached the place where she stood, when she said:
"You are coming again, some time?"
"I am coming again in a week."
"You will find a little packet awaiting you in the place where you stay.You will read it before you see me again?"
"I will read it."
"Good-by," said she; and her face in its most beautiful aspect shone onhim for a moment; then she retreated, and was lost to his view in theshrubbery.
As he passed the house on his way to the gate, he saw Doris castinglooks of delight down the poplar-walk, where her young mistress wasstill straying, and at the same instant caught a hurried glimpse of Mrs.Lovell and Emma, leaning from the window above, in joyful recognition ofthe fact that a settled habit had been broken, and that at hisinducement Hermione had consented to taste again the out-door air.
He was yet in time for the train, for he had calculated on this visit,and so made allowances for it. He was therefore on the point of turningtowards the station, when he saw the figure of a man coming down thestreet, and stopped, amazed. Was it--could it be--yes, it was HiramHuckins. He was dressed in black, and looked decent, almost trim, buthis air was that of one uncertain of himself, and his face wasdisfigured by an ingratiating leer which Etheridge found almostintolerable. He was the first to speak.
"How do you do, Mr. Etheridge?" said he, ambling up, and bowing withhypocritical meekness. "You didn't expect to see me here, did you? Butbusiness calls me. My poor, dear sister Harriet is said to have been inMarston, and I have come to see if it is true. I do not find her, doyou?"
The sly, half-audacious, half-deprecating look with which he utteredthese words irritated Frank beyond endurance.
"No," he rejoined. "Your valuable time will be wasted here. You willhave to look elsewhere for your _dear_
sister."
"It has taken you a long time to find that out," insinuated the other,with his most disagreeable leer. "I suppose, now, you thought till thisvery last night that you would find her in the graveyard or in some ofthese old houses. Else why should you waste _your_ valuable time in aplace of such mean attractions."
They were standing directly in front of the Cavanagh house and Frank wasangry enough to lift his hand against him at these words, for the oldman's eyes--he was not old but he always presented the appearance ofbeing so--had wandered meaningly towards the windows above him, as if heknew that behind them, instead of in any graveyard, centred the realattractions of the place for Frank.
But though a lawyer may have passions, he, as a rule, has learned tokeep a curb upon them, especially in the presence of one who is likelyto oppose him.
So bowing with an effort at politeness, young Etheridge acknowledgedthat he had only lately given up his hope, and was about to withdraw inhis haste to catch the train, when Huckins seized him by the arm with alow chuckle and slyly whispered:
"You've been visiting the two pretty hermitesses, eh? Are they nicegirls? Do they know anything about my sister? You look as if you hadheard good news somewhere. Was it in there?"
He was eager; he was insinuating; he seemed to hang upon Frank's reply.But the lawyer, struck and troubled by this allusion to the women he socherished, on lips he detested beyond any in the world, stood still fora moment, looking the indignation he dared not speak.
Huckins took advantage of this silence to speak again, this time with anoff-hand assurance only less offensive than his significant remarks.
"I know they keep at home and do not go out in the world to hear thegossip. But women who keep themselves shut up often know a lot aboutwhat is going on around them, Mr. Etheridge, and as you have been thereI thought--"
"Never mind what you thought," burst out Frank, unable to bear hisinsinuations any longer. "Enough that I do not go there to hear anythingabout Harriet Smith. There are other law cases in the world besidesyours, and other clients besides your sister and her heirs. These youngladies, for instance, whom you speak of so freely."
"I am sure," stammered Huckins, with great volubility, and an air ofjoviality which became him as little as the suspicious attitude he hadhitherto taken, "I never meant to speak with the least disrespect ofladies I have never met. Only I was interested you know, naturallyinterested, in anything which might seem to bear upon my own affairs.They drag so, don't they, Mr. Etheridge, and I am kept so long out of myrights."
"No longer than justice seems to demand, Mr. Huckins; your sister, andher heirs, if they exist, have rights also."
"So you say," quoth Huckins, "and I have learned not to quarrel with alawyer. Good-day, Mr. Etheridge, good-day. Hope to hear that somedecision has been arrived at soon."
"Good-day," growled Frank, and strode rapidly off, determined to returnto Marston that very night if only to learn what Huckins was up to. Butbefore he had gone a dozen steps he came quickly back and seized thatperson by the arm. "Where are you going?" he asked; for Huckins had laidhis hand on Miss Cavanagh's gate and was about to enter.
"I am going to pay a visit," was the smiling reply. "Is there anythingwrong in that?"
"I thought you did not know these young ladies--that they were strangersto you?"
"So they are, so they are, but I am a man who takes a great interest ineccentric persons. I am eccentric myself; so was my sister Cynthia; so Imay say was Harriet, though how eccentric we have still to find out. Ifthe young ladies do not want to see an old man from New York they cansay so, but I mean to give them the chance. Have you anything to sayagainst it?"
"No, except that I think it an unwarrantable intrusion about which youhad better think twice."
"I have thought," retorted Huckins, with a mild obstinacy that had asinister element in it, "and I can't deny myself the pleasure. Think ofit! two healthy and beautiful girls under twenty-four who never leavethe house they live in! That is being more unlike folks than Cynthia andmyself, who were old and who had a fortune to guard. Besides we didleave the house, or rather I did, when there was business to look afteror food to buy. But they don't go out for anything, I hear, _anything_.Mr. Ruthven--he is the minister you know--has given me his card by wayof introduction; so you see they will have to treat me politely, andthat means I shall at least see their faces."
His cunning, his satisfaction, and a certain triumph underlying all,affected Frank like the hiss of a serpent. But the business awaiting himin New York was imperative, and the time remaining to him before thetrain left was barely enough to enable him to reach the station. Socurbing his disgust and the dread he had of seeing this knave enterHermione's door, he tore himself away and made what haste he could tothe station. He arrived just as the first whistle of the coming trainwas heard, and owing to a short delay occasioned by the arrival of atelegram at the station, he was enabled to write two notes, one to MissCavanagh and one to Dr. Sellick. These he delivered to Jerry, withstrict injunctions to deliver them immediately, and as the train movedoff carrying him back to his duties, he had the satisfaction of seeingthe lumbering figure of that slow but reliable messenger disappeararound the curve in the highway which led directly to Miss Cavanagh'shouse.