CHAPTER IV.
THEO'S DIARY.
Up-stairs, in a sacred corner of the chamber Lady Throckmorton hadapportioned to her, Theodora North kept her diary. Not a solid,long-winded diary, full of creditable reflections upon the day's events,but, on the contrary, a harmless little book enough--a pretty littlebook, bound in pink and gold, and much ornamented about the corners, andgreatly embellished with filagree clasps. Lady Throckmorton had given itto her because she admired it, and, in a very natural enthusiasm, shehad made a diary of it. And here are the entries first recorded in itsgilt-edged pages:
_December_ 7.--Mr. Oglethorpe was so kind as to remember his promiseabout showing me the lions. Enjoyed myself very much. Miss PriscillaGower went with us. She is very dignified, or something; but I think Ilike her. I am sure I like her, so I will go to see her again. I wonderhow it is she reminds me of Pamela without being like Pamela at all.Poor Pam always so sharp in her ways, and I do not think Miss Gower evercould speak sharply at all. And yet she reminds me of Pam.
_December_ 14.--Went to the theatre again with Lady Throckmorton and Mr.Oglethorpe. I wonder if the rose-pink satin is not becoming to me? Ithought it was; but before I went up-stairs to dress, Mr. Oglethorpesaid to me, "Don't put on the rose-pink satin, Theodora." I am sorrythat he does not think it is pretty. Wore a thin, white-muslin dress,and dear, dearest old Pamela's beautiful sapphires. The muslin had along train.
_December_ 18.--Mr. Oglethorpe came to-night with a kind of message fromMiss Gower.
From these innocent extracts, persons of an unlimited experience mightdraw serious conclusions; but when she made said entries, kneelingbefore her toilet-table, each night, our dear Theodora thought nothingabout them at all. She had nothing else in particular to write about atpresent, so, in default of finding a better subject, she jotted downguileless remembrances of Denis Oglethorpe and the length of her trains.
But one memorable evening, on going into the sitting-room, with the pinkand gold volume in her hand, she encountered Sir Dugald, who seemed tobe in an extraordinary frame of mind, and withal nothing loth to meether.
"What pretty book have you there, Theodora?" he asked, in his usualamiably uncivilized manner.
"It is my diary," Theo answered. "Lady Throckmorton gave it to me. I putthings down in it."
"Oh, oh!" was the reply, taking hold of both Sabre's ears, andchuckling. "Put things down, do you? What sort of things do you putdown, eh, pretty Theodora? Lovers, eh? Literary men, eh?"
Theo grew pink all over--pink as to cheeks, pink as to slim whitethroat, even pink as to small ears. She was almost frightened, and herfright was of a kind such as she had never experienced before. But itwas not Sir Dugald she was afraid of--she was used to him. It wassomething new of which she had never thought until this very instant.
"Literary men, eh?" Sir Dugald went on. "Do you put down what theirnames are, and what they do, and how they make mistakes, and take thewrong young lady to see Norma, and Faust and Il Trovatore? IlTrovatore's a nice opera; Theo and Leonora sounds something likeTheodora. It doesn't sound anything like Priscilla, does it? The devilfly away with Priscilla, I say. Priscilla isn't musical, is it,Leonora?"
Once having freed herself from him, which was by no means an easymatter, Theo flew up-stairs, tremulous, breathless, flushed. She did notstop to think. She had seen the drawing-room empty and unlighted, saveby a dull fire, on her way down-stairs, so she turned to thedrawing-room. She had been conscious of nothing but Sir Dugald, so shehad not heard the hall-door open; and, not having heard the hall-dooropen, had, of course, not heard Denis Oglethorpe come in. So, in runninginto the fire-lit room, she broke in upon that gentleman, who wasstanding in the shadow, and it must be confessed was rather startled byher sudden entrance and curiously-excited face.
He stopped her short, however, collectedly enough.
"What is the matter, Theodora?" he demanded.
She slipped down upon a footstool, all in a flutter, when she saw him,she was so shaken; and then, in her sudden abasement and breathlesstremor, gave vent to a piteous little half-sob, though she was terriblyashamed of it.
"I--I don't know," she answered him. "It's--it's nothing at all." But heknew better than that, and guessing very shrewdly that he was not whollyunconnected with the matter himself, questioned her as closely as wasconsistent with delicacy, and, in the end, after some diplomacy, and afew more of surprised, piteous, little unwilling half-sobs, gleaned agreat deal of the truth from her.
"It was only--only something Sir Dugald said about you and Miss Gower,and--and something about me," she added, desperately.
"Oh!" he said, looking so composed about it that the very sight of hiscomposure calmed her, and made her begin to think she had seen amountain in a mole-hill. "Sir Dugald? Only Sir Dugald? What did he say,may I ask, as it--it is about myself and Miss Gower?"
Of course he might ask, but the difficulty lay in gaining any definiteanswer. Theodora blushed, and then actually turned a little pale,looking wondrously abased in her uncalled-for confusion; but she was notat all coherent in her explanations, which were really not meant forexplanations at all.
"Il Trovatore was so beautiful!" she burst out, finally; "and so wasFaust; and I had never been to the opera in all my life before, and, ofcourse--" blushing and palpitating, but still looking at him without ashade of falsehood in her innocent, straightforward eyes; "of course, Icouldn't. How could I be so silly, and vain, and presuming, as to thinkof--of--of--"
She stopped here, as might be expected, and, if the room had been lightenough, she might have seen a shadow fall on Oglethorpe's face, as heprompted her.
"Of what?"
Her eyes fell. "Of what Sir Dugald said," she ended, in a troubledhalf-whisper.
There was a slight pause, in which both pairs of eyes lookeddown--Theodora's upon the rug of tiger-skin at her feet, Oglethorpe's atTheodora herself. They were treading upon dangerous ground, he knew, andyet in the midst of his fierce anger at his weakness, he was consciousof a regret--a contemptible regret, he told himself--that the eyes shehad raised to his own a moment ago, had been so very clear andguilelessly honest in their accordance with the declaration her lips hadmade.
"But, my dear Theodora," he at length broke the silence by saying,carelessly, "why should we trouble ourselves about that elderly Goth, orVandal, if you choose--Sir Dugald? Who does trouble themselves about SirDugald, and his amiably ponderous jocoseness? Not Lady Throckmorton, Iam sure; not society in general, you must know; consequently, let ustreat Sir Dugald with silent contempt, in a glorious consciousness ofour own spotless innocence."
He was half uneasy under his satirical indifference; though he was soaccustomed to conceal his thoughts under indifference and satire, he wasscarcely sure enough of himself at this minute; but, despite this, hecarried out the assumed mood pretty well.
"We have no need to be afraid of Sir Dugald's Vandalism, if we have nofear of ourselves, and, considering, as you so very justly observed,that it is quite impossible for us to be silly, and vain, and presumingtoward each other. I think we must be quite safe. I believe you said itwould be impossible, Theodora?"
Just one breath's space, and Theodora North looked up at him, as it werethrough the influence of an electric flash of recognition. There was awild, sweet, troubled color on her cheeks, and her lips were trembling;her whole face seemed to tremble; her very eyes had a varying tremulousglow.
"Quite impossible, wasn't it, Theodora?" he repeated, and though he hadmeant it for nothing more than a careless, daring speech, his voicechanged in defiance of him, and altered, or seemed to alter, both wordsand their meaning. What, in the name of madness, he would have been rashenough to say next, in response to the tremor of light and color in theupturned face, it would be hard to say, for here he was stopped, as itwere, by Fortune herself.
Fortune came in the form of Lady Throckmorton, fresh from Trollope'slast, and in a communicative mood.
"Ah! You are here, Denis, and you, too, Theodora?
Why are you sitting inthe dark?" And, as she bent over to touch the bell, Theodora rose fromher footstool to make way for her--rose with a little sigh, as if shehad just been awakened from a dream which was neither happy nor sad.
It was very plainly Lady Throckmorton's business to see, and, seeing,understand the affairs of her inexperienced young relative; but if LadyThrockmorton understood that Theodora North was unconsciouslyendangering the peace of her girlish heart, Lady Throckmorton was verysilent, or very indifferent about the matter. But she was not mouldedafter the manner of the stern female guardians usually celebrated inlove stories. She was not mercenary, and she was by no meansauthoritative. She had sent for Theo with the intention of extending toher the worldly assistance she had extended to Pamela, and, beyond that,the matter lay in the girl's own hands. Lady Throckmorton had no highviews for her in particular; she wanted to see her enjoy herself as muchas possible until the termination of her visit, in whatever manner itterminated, whether matrimonially or otherwise. Besides, she was not soyoung as she had been in Pamela's time, and, consequently, though shewas reasonably fond of her handsome niece, and more than usuallygenerous toward her, she was inclined to let her follow her own devices.For herself, she had her luxurious little retiring-room, with itsluxurious fires and lounges; and after these, or rather with these, camean abundance of novels, and the perfect, creamy chocolate her Frenchcook made such a masterpiece of--novels and chocolate standing aselderly and refined dissipations. And not being troubled with any verystrict ideas of right or wrong, it would, by no means, have annoyed herladyship to know that her handsome Theodora had out-generalled her petgrievance, Priscilla Gower. Why should not Priscilla Gower beout-generalled, and why should not Denis marry some one who was as muchbetter suited to him, as Theodora North plainly was?
"Tut! tut!" she said to Sir Dugald. "Why shouldn't they be married toeach other? It would be better than Priscilla Gower, if Theodora hadnothing but Pam's gray satin for her bridal trousseau."
So Theo was left to herself, and having no confidant but the pink andgold journal, gradually began to trust to its page some very troubledreflections. It had not occurred to her that she could possibly beguilty in admiring Mr. Denis Oglethorpe so much as she did, and infeeling so glad when he came, and so sorry when he went away. She hadnot thought that it was because he was sitting near her, and talking toher between the acts; that Il Trovatore and Faust had been sothrillingly beautiful and tender. And this was quite true, even thoughshe had not begun to comprehend it as yet.
She had no right to feel anxious about him; and yet, when, after havingcommitted himself in the rash manner chronicled, he did not make hisappearance for nearly two weeks, she was troubled in no slight degree.Indeed, though the thought was scarcely defined, she had someunsophisticated misgivings as to whether Miss Priscilla Gower might nothave been aroused to a sense of the wrongs done her through the mediumof Il Trovatore, and so have laid an interdict upon his visits; but itwas only Sir Dugald who had suggested this to her fancy.
But by the end of the two weeks, she grew tired of waiting, and the dayswere so very long, that at length, not without some slight compunction,she made up her mind to go and pay a guileless visit to Miss PriscillaGower herself.
"I am going to see Miss Gower, aunt," she ventured to say one morning,at the breakfast table.
Sir Dugald looked up from his huge slice of broiled venison, clumsilyjocose after his customary agreeable manner.
"What's that, Leonora?" he said. "Going to see the stern vestal, areyou? Priscilla, eh?"
Lady Throckmorton shrugged her shoulders in an indifferent sarcasm. Shewas often both sarcastic and indifferent in her manner toward SirDugald.
"Theo's in-goings and out-goings are scarcely our business, so long asshe enjoys herself," she said. "Present my regards to the Miss Gowers,my dear, and say I regret that my health does not permit me to accompanyyou."
A polite fiction by the way, as my lady was looking her best. It wasonly upon state occasions, and solely on Denis' account, that she eversubmitted to Broome street, albeit the fat, gray horses, and fat graycoachman did occasionally recognize the existence of that remotelocality.
It so happened that, as they drew up before Miss Gower's modest doorthis morning, the modest door in question opened, and Denis Oglethorpehimself came out, and, of course, caught sight of Theodora North, whohad just bent forward to pull the check-string, and so gave him a fullview of her charming _reante_, un-English face, and, in her pleasure atseeing him, that young lady forgot both herself and Sir Dugald, andexclaimed aloud,
"Oh, Mr. Oglethorpe!" she cried out. "I am so glad--" and then stopped,in a confusion and trepidation absolutely brilliant.
He came to the window, and looked in at her.
"Are you coming to see Priscilla?" he said.
"Lady Throckmorton said I might," she answered, the warmth in her facechilled by his unenthusiastic though kindly tone. She did not know whata struggle it cost him to face her thus carelessly all at once.
He did not even open the carriage-door himself, but waited for thefootman to do it.
"Priscilla will be glad to see you," he said, quietly. "I will go intothe house again with you."
The dwarfed sitting-room looked very much as it had looked on Theo'sfirst introduction to it; but on this occasion Miss Elizabeth was notarrayed in the snuff-colored satin; and when they entered, Priscilla waskneeling down upon the hearth-rug, straightening out an obstreperousfold in it.
She rose, collectedly, at once, and as her face turned toward them, Theowas struck with some fancy of its being a shade paler than it had beenthe last time she had seen it. But her manner was not changed in theleast, and she welcomed her visitor with grave cordiality. Poor littlesnuff-colored Miss Elizabeth was delighted. She was getting very fond ofcompany in her old age, and had taken a great fancy to Theodora North.
"Send the carriage away, and stay with us until evening, Miss Theodora,"she fluttered in wild, old-maidenly excitement. "Do stay, Miss Theodora,and I will show you how to do the octagon-stitch, as I promised the lasttime you were here. You remember how you admired it in that antimacassarI was making for Priscilla?"
Miss Elizabeth's chief delight and occupation was the making ofmiraculously-gorgeous mysteries for Priscilla; and Theo's modesteulogies of her last piece of work had won her admiration and regard atonce. Consequently, under stress of Miss Elizabeth, the carriage wasfain to depart, much to the abasement of the fat, gray coachman, whofelt himself much dishonored in finding he was compelled, not only topay majestic calls to Broome street, but to acknowledge the humiliatingfact of friendly visits.
"We must have a fire in the best parlor, my dear," chirped Elizabeth,ecstatically, when Theo's hat and jacket were being carried out of theroom. "Don't forget to tell Jane, Priscilla, and--" fumbling in herlarge side-pocket, "here's the key of the preserve-closet. Quincepreserve, my dear, and white currant-jelly."
Theodora was reminded of Downport that day, in a hundred ways. The nicelittle company-dinner reminded her of it; the solitary little roast fowland the preserves and puddings; but the company-dinners at Downport hadalways been detracted from by the sharp annoyance in Pam's face, and thegeneral domestic bustle, and the total inadequacy of gravy and stuffingto the wants of the boys. She was particularly reminded of it by theceremonious repairing to the fire in the front parlor, where everythingwas so orderly, and even the family portraits had the appearance offamily portraits roused from a deep reverie to be surprised at anintrusion.
"My late lamented parents, my dear," said Miss Elizabeth, rubbing herspectacles, and admiringly regarding an owl-like, elderly gentleman, inan aggressive brown wig, and an equally owl-like lady, in aself-announcing false-front, embarrassingly suggestive of MissElizabeth's own. "My late lamented parents, at the respective ages offifty and fifty-seven. My sister, Anastasia; my only brother, mysister-in-law, his wife; and my dear Priscilla, at seventeen years."
Theo turned from the others to look at this last wit
h a deeper interest;remembered that it was when she was seventeen, that Priscilla had firstmet Denis Oglethorpe. It was a small picture, half life-size, and set inan oval frame of black walnut. Priscilla at seventeen had not been verydifferent from Priscilla at twenty-two. She had a pale, handsome,ungirlish face--a Minerva face--steady, grave, handsome eyes, and a finehead, unadorned, save with a classic knot of black brown hair. Thepicture was not even younger-looking than Priscilla was now.
Miss Elizabeth regarded it in affectionate admiration of its beauty.
"My dear," she said to Theodora, "that is the most beautiful face inLondon, to my old eyes. It reminds me of my dear Anastasia in her youth.I was always glad my brother Benjamin's daughter was not like his wife.We were not fond of my brother Benjamin's wife. She was a very giddyyoung person, and very fond of gayety. She died of lung-fever,contracted through exposing herself one night at a military ball, indirect opposition to my brother Benjamin's wishes. She insisted uponwearing blue-satin slippers, and a low-necked dress."
"Oh, dear!" said Theodora, secretly conscious of a guilty sympathy forthe giddy young person who ran counter to brother Benjamin's wishes, inthe matter of military balls and blue-satin slippers.
"Yes, my love!" Miss Elizabeth proceeded. "And for that reason I wasalways glad to find that Priscilla was not at all like her. Priscillaand I have been very happy together, in our quiet way; she has been thebest of dear, good girls to me. Indeed, I really don't know what I shalldo when I must lose her, as of course you know I shall be obliged to,when she marries Mr. Denis Oglethorpe!"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Theo, and as she spoke, she felt a curious,startled glow flash over her. This was the first time an actual approachto the subject had been made in her presence.
"Yes, my dear!" said Miss Elizabeth again. "I shall feel the separationvery deeply, but it must be, you know. They have waited so long for eachother, that I should be a very wicked selfish old woman to throw anyobstacle, even so slight a one as my own discomfort, in their way. Don'tyou think so?"
"Yes, madame," Theo faltered, very unsteadily, indeed.
But Miss Elizabeth did not notice any hesitation in her manner, and wenton with her confidential chat, eulogizing Priscilla and her betrothedaffectionately. Mr. Denis Oglethorpe would be a rich man some of thesedays, and then what a happy life must Priscilla's be--so young, sobeautiful, so beloved. "Not that wealth brings happiness, my dear MissTheodora. Riches are very deceitful, you know; but there is a great dealof solid comfort in a genteel sufficiency."
To all of which Theo acquiesced, modestly, inwardly wondering if she wasvery wrong in wishing that Oglethorpe had not left them quite so early.
The day passed pleasantly enough, however, in a quiet way. MissElizabeth was very affectionate and communicative, and told her a greatmany stories of Anastasia, and the late-lamented Benjamin, as they satby the fire together, in the evening, and blundered over theoctagon-stitch. It was an Afghan Miss Elizabeth was making now; and whenat tea-time, Mr. Oglethorpe came, he found Theodora North sitting on thehearth, flushed with industrious anxiety, and thrown into reflected glowof brilliant Berlin wool, a beautiful young spider in a gorgeous Afghanweb.
"I should like," she was saying as he entered, "to buy Pamela and thegirls some nice little presents. What would you advise me to get, MissGower?"
She was very faithful to the shabby household at Downport. Her letterswere never careless or behind time, and no one was ever neglected in themultiplicity of messages. She would be the most truthful and faithful ofloving women a few years hence, this handsome Theodora. There was somereserve in her manner toward Denis this evening. She attended to MissElizabeth's octagon-stitch, and left him to amuse Priscilla. He had notseemed very much pleased to see her in the morning, and besides,Priscilla was plainly his business. But when the carriage was announced,and she returned to the parlor, after an absence of a few minutes,drawing on her gloves, and buttoning her pretty jacket close up to herbeautiful slender, dusky throat, Denis took his hat and accompanied herto the carriage. He did not wait for the footman this time; but, afterassisting her to get in, closed the door himself, and leaned against theopen window for a moment.
"I want you to deliver a message to Lady Throckmorton for me," he said."May I trouble you, Theodora?"
She bent her head with an unpleasantly-quickened heart-beat. It was veryfoolish, of course, but she felt as if something painful was going tohappen, and nothing on earth could prevent it.
"Business has unexpectedly called me away from London--from England," heexplained, in a strange yet quite steady voice. "I am obliged to go toBelgium at once, and my affairs are in such a condition that I may becompelled to remain across the channel for some time. Be good enough tosay to Lady Throckmorton that I regret deeply that I could not see herbefore going; but--but the news has been sudden, and my time is fullyoccupied; but I will write to her from my first stopping-place."
"I will tell her," said Theodora.
"Thank you," he replied, courteously, and then, after a shorthesitation, began again, in the tone he used so often--the tone thatmight be jest or earnest. "And now, there is something else, a subjectupon which I wish to ask your unbiased opinion, my dear Theodora, beforeI say good-bye. When a man finds himself in a danger with which hecannot combat, and remain human--in danger, where defeat means dishonor,do you not agree with me, that the safest plan that man can adopt is torun away?"
Her quickened heart might almost have been running a life-and-death racewith her leaping pulse, but she answered him almost steadily.
"Yes," she said to him. "You are quite right. He had better go away."
"Thank you," he returned again. "Then you will give me your hand andwish me God-speed; and, perhaps--I say perhaps--you will answer meanother question. This morning, when you spoke to me through thecarriage window, you began to say something about being glad. Were yougoing to say--" He broke off here, sharply. "No!" he exclaimed. "I willnot ask you."
"I was going to say that I was glad to see you," Theo interrupted,gravely. "I was glad to see you. And now, perhaps, you had better tellthe coachman to drive on. I will deliver your message to LadyThrockmorton; and as I shall not see you again, unless I am here inJuly--of course you will come back then--good-bye, Mr. Oglethorpe."
She gave him her hand through the carriage-window, and, for a moment, heheld it, to all appearance quite calm, as he looked down at the lovelyface the flare of an adjacent gaslight revealed to him against abackground of shadow.
"Good-bye," he said, and then released it. "Drive on," he called to thecoachman, and in a moment more, he stood alone watching the carriageturn the corner.