Produced by David Widger
VAGABONDIA
By Frances Hodgson Burnett
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY - 1884
CONTENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTE.
VAGABONDIA.
CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL.
CHAPTER II ~ IN THE CAMPS OF THE PHILISTINES.
CHAPTER III. ~ IN WHICH THE TRAIN IS LAID.
CHAPTER IV. ~ A LILY OF THE FIELD.
CHAPTER V. ~ IN WHICH THE PHILISTINES BE UPON US.
CHAPTER VI. ~ “WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON.”
CHAPTER VII. ~ IN WHICH A SPARK IS APPLIED.
CHAPTER VIII. ~ THE BEGINNING OF THE ENDING.
CHAPTER IX. ~ IN WHICH WE ARE UNORTHODOX.
CHAPTER X. ~ IN SLIPPERY PLACES.
CHAPTER XI. ~ IN WHICH COMES A WIND WHICH BLOWS NOBODY GOOD.
CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION.
CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER.
CHAPTER XIV. ~ SEVEN LONG YEARS, BELOVED, SEVEN LONG YEARS.
CHAPTER XV. ~ IN WHICH WE TRY SWITZERLAND.
CHAPTER XVI. ~ IF YOU SHOULD DIE.
CHAPTER XVII. ~ DO YOU KNOW THAT SHE IS DYING?
CHAPTER XVIII. ~ GRIF!
CHAPTER XIX. ~ ROSE COLOR.
AUTHOR’S NOTE.
This my first novel was written several years ago, and published(without any revision by me) first in a ladies’ magazine under the nameof “Dorothea,” and afterwards in book form as “Dolly.” For reasons notnecessary to state here, all control over the book had passed frommy hands. It has been for some time out of print; but, having at lastobtained control of the copyright, I have made such corrections asseemed advisable, given it the name I originally intended for it, andnow issue it through my regular publishers.
FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.
Washington, November, 1883.
VAGABONDIA.
CHAPTER I. ~ IN WHICH WE HOLD COUNSEL.
It was a nondescript sort of a room, taking it altogether. A big, sunnyroom, whose once handsome papering and corniceing had grown dingy, andwhose rich carpeting had lost its color and pile in places, and yetasserted its superiority to its surroundings with an air of lostgrandeur in every shabby medallion. There were pictures in abundance onthe walls, and more than one of them were gems in their way, despite theevidence all bore to being the work of amateurs. The tables were carvedelaborately, and the faded, brocaded chairs were of the order _pouf_,and as inviting as they were disreputable in appearance; there wasmanuscript music among the general litter, a guitar hung from the wallby a tarnished blue and silver ribbon, and a violin lay on the piano;and yet, notwithstanding the air of free-and-easy disorder, one couldhardly help recognizing a sort of vagabond comfort and luxury in theBohemian surroundings. It was so very evident that the owners must enjoylife in an easy, light-hearted, though perhaps light-headed fashion; andit was also so very evident that their light hearts and light heads roseabove their knowledge of their light purses.
They were congregated together now, holding a grand family councilaround the centre-table, and Dolly was the principal feature, as usual;and, embarrassing as the subject of said council was, not one of themlooked as if it was other than a most excellent joke that Dolly, havingbeen invited into the camps of the Philistines, should find she hadnothing to put on to grace the occasion. And as to Dolly,--well, thatyoung person stood in the midst of them in her shabby, Frenchy littlehat, slapping one pink palm with a shabby, shapely kid glove, her eyesalight, her comical dismay and amusement displaying itself even in thearch of her brows.
“And so the Philistine leader pounced upon me herself,” she was saying.“You know the ‘Ark,’ Phil? Well, they were all in the Ark,--the Rev.Bilberry in front, and the boys and girls filling up the corners; so youmay imagine the effect produced when they stopped, and Lady Augustabent over the side to solemnly proclaim her intention of inviting meto partake of coffee and conversation on Friday night, with an air ofseverely wondering whether I would dare to say ‘No!’”
“Why did n’t you say it?” said Aimée. “You know it will be an awfulbore, Dolly. Those Bilberry clan gatherings always are. You have said soyourself often enough.”
“Of course I have,” returned Dolly. “And of course it will be, butit would be dreadfully indiscreet to let the Bilberry element know Ithought so. The Bilberry doors once closed against us, where is ourrespectability, and Phil’s chance of success among the Philistines? Itis bad enough, of course, but there is reason to be thankful that I amthe only victim. The rest of you would be sure to blunder into the B.B. B.’s [meaning the Bilberry black books], and that _would_ be anagreeable state of affairs. ‘Toinette, look at Tod, he is sitting in thecoal-box eating Phil’s fusees.”
In ‘Toinette we find Mrs. Phil, a handsome creature, young enough tohave been in the school-room, but with the face and figure of a Greekgoddess, and a pair of eyes lovely enough to haunt one’s dreams as amemory for a lifetime, and as to the rest, an inconsistent young madcap,whose beauty and spirit seemed only a necessary part of the householdarrangements, and whose son and heir, in the person of the enterprisingTod (an abbreviate of Theodore), was the source of unlimited domesticenjoyment and the object of much indiscreet adoration. It was just likePhilip Crewe, this marrying on probabilities; and it was equally likethe rest of them to accept the state of affairs as an excellent joke,and regard the result as an exquisite piece of pleasantry. ‘Toinetteherself was only another careless, unworldly addition to the familycircle, and enjoyed her position as thoroughly as the rest did; and asto Tod, what a delicate satire upon responsibilities Tod was, and howtranquilly he comported himself under a _régime_ which admitted of freeaccess into dangerous places, and a lack of personal restraint whichallowed him all the joys the infantile mind can revel in!
At Dolly’s exclamation Toinette rushed at him in his stronghold, andextricated him from the coal-box with demonstrations of dismay.
“Look at his white dress!” she wailed pathetically. “I only put it on afew minutes ago; and he has eaten two dozen fusees, if this was n’t anempty box when he found it. I hope they won’t disagree with him, Phil.”
“They won’t,” said Phil, composedly. “Nothing does. Dust him, andproceed to business. I want to hear the rest of Dolly’s story.”
“I _think_,” said Mollie, “that he ate Shem and Ham this morning, for Icould only find Japheth after he had been playing with his Noah’s Ark.Go on, Dolly.”
“Wait until I have taken off my things,” said Dolly, “and then we ‘lltalk it over. We must talk it over, you know, if I am to go.”
She took off her hat, and then laid her shawl aside,--a little scarletshawl, draped about her figure and tossed over one shoulder smartly,and by no means ungracefully,--and so stood revealed; and it must beadmitted she was well worth looking at. Not a beauty, but a fresh,wholesome little body, with a real complexion, an abundance of hair,and large-irised, wide-awake eyes, changeable as to color, becausecapricious in expression; the sort of girl, in fact, who would be likelyto persuade people ultimately that, considering circumstances, absolutebeauty could be easily dispensed with, and, upon the whole, would ratherdetract from the general charm of novelty, which, in her case, reignedsupreme.
“It is n’t the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular,” she would say; “it’s the being able to persuade people that you areone,--or better than one. Don’t some historians tell us that Cleopatrahad red hair and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind theworld so completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, andto this day the generality of people are inclined to believe that itwas her supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at herfeet.”
Aimée’s face was more nearly perfect than Dolly’s; Mollie’s w
as moreimposing, child as she was; ‘Toinette threw her far into the shade inthe matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did allthe difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionableadorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source ofrejoicing and entertainment to the family.
Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music,paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the mostcomfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest toseat themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen,large, fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, droppedinto a not ungraceful position at her feet. Aimée, who was a littlemaiden with a tender, _spirituelle_ face, and all the forethought ofthe family, sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression.‘Toinette and Tod, _posed_ in the low nursery-chair,--the girl’s firm,white arm flung around the child,--swung lightly to and fro, fit modelsfor an artist.
“You would make a first-class picture,--the lot of you,” commented Phil,amicably.
“Never mind the picture,” said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippersup under her wrapper. “We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going tothe Bilberrys’. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had aturquoise-blue sat--”
“Heavenly!” interrupted Dolly. “I should think so. Particularlycelestial for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, andpeculiarly celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would beas much as my reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You mustlearn discretion, Mollie.”
“There is some consolation in knowing you can’t get it,” said ‘Toinette.“You won’t be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what _are_you going to wear, Dolly?”
“That is for the council to decide,” Dolly returned. “First, we mustsettle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it.”
“Other people go the other way about it,” said Aimée.
“If we were only rich!” said Mollie.
“But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not,” said Dolly.“There is one thing certain, however,--it must be white.”
“A simple white muslin,” suggested ‘Toinette, struggling in the grasp ofthe immortal Tod,--“a simple white muslin, with an equally simple wildflower in your hair, _à la_ Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager Bilberry_would_ like that.”
“And a wide blue sash,” suggested Mollie. “And the sleeves tied up withbows. _And_ tucks, Dolly. Girls, just think of Dolly making great eyesat an eligible Philistine, in white muslin and a sash and tucks!”
She was a hardened little sinner, this Dolly, her only redeeming pointbeing that she was honest enough about her iniquities,--so honestthat they were really not such terrible iniquities after all, and wereregarded as rather good fun by the _habitués_ of Vagabondia proper. Shelaughed just as heartily as the rest of them at Mollie’s speech. Shecould no more resist the temptation of making great eyes at eligiblePhilistines than she could help making them at the entertaining buthighly ineligible Bohemians, who continually frequented Phil’s studio.The fear of man was not before her eyes; and the life she had led hadinvested her with a whimsical yet shrewd knowledge of human nature, anda business-like habit of looking matters in the face, which made hersomething of a novelty; and when is not novelty irresistible? And as tothe masculine Philistines,--well, the audacity of Dolly’s successes inthe very midst of the enemy’s camp had been the cause of much statelydemoralization of Philistine battalions.
At her quietest she created small sensations and attracted attention;but in her wicked moods, when she was in a state of mind to prompt herto revenge the numerous small slights and overt acts of lofty patronageshe met with, the dowagers stood in some secret awe of her propensities,and not without reason. Woe betide the daring matron who measured swordswith her at such times. Great would be her confusion and dire her fallbefore the skirmish was over, and nothing was more certain than that shewould retire from the field a wiser if not a better woman. After beingtriumphantly routed with great slaughter on two or three occasions,the enemy had discovered this, and decided mentally that it was morediscreet to let “little Miss Crewe” alone, considering that, though itwas humiliating to be routed, even by one of their own forces, it wasinfinitely more so to be routed by an innocent-looking young person,whose position was questionable, and who actually owed her vague shadowof respectability to her distant but august relative, the Lady AugustaDecima Crewe Bilberry, wife of the Rev. Marmaduke Sholto Bilberry, andmother of the plenteous crop of young Bilberrys, to whom little MissCrewe was music teacher and morning governess.
So it was that Mollie’s joke about the tucks and white muslin gainedadditional point from the family recollection of past experiences.
“But,” said Dolly, when the laugh had subsided, “it won’t do totalk nonsense all day. Here ‘s where we stand, you know. Coffee andconversation on Friday night on one side, and nothing but my draggledold green tarlatan on the other, and it’s Tuesday now.”
“And the family impecuniosity being a fact well established in thefamily mind,” began Phil, with composure.
“But that ‘s nonsense,” interrupted Aimée. “And, as Dolly says, nonsensewon’t do now. But,” with a quaint sigh, “we always _do_ talk nonsense.”
But here a slight diversion was created. Mrs. Phil jumped up, withan exclamation of delight, and, dropping Tod on to Mollie’s lap,disappeared through the open door.
“I will be back in a minute,” she called back to them, as she ranup-stairs. “I have just thought of something.”
“Girls,” said Mollie, “it’s her white merino.”
And so it was. In a few minutes she reappeared with it,--a heap of softwhite folds in her arms, and a yard or so of the train dragging afterher upon the carpet,--the one presentable relic of a once inconsistentlyelaborate bridal trousseau, at present in a rather tumbled and rolled-upcondition, but still white and soft and thick, and open to unlimitedimprovement.
“I had forgotten all about it,” she said, triumphantly. “I have neverneeded it at all, and I knew I never should when I bought it, but itlooked so nice when I saw it that I could n’t help buying it. I oncethought of cutting it up into things for Tod; but it seems to me, Dolly,it ‘s what you want exactly, and Tod can trust to Providence,--thingsalways come somehow.”
It was quite characteristic of Vagabondia that there should be morerejoicing over this one stray sheep of good luck than there would havebeen over any ninety and nine in the ordinary folds of more prosperouspeople. And Mrs. Phil rejoiced as heartily as the rest. It was her turnnow, and she was as ready to sacrifice her white merino on the shrineof the household impecuniosity as she would be to borrow Dolly’s bestbonnet, or Mollie’s shoes, or Aimée’s gloves, when occasion demandedsuch a course. So the merino was laid upon the table, and the councilrose to examine, comment, and suggest.
“A train,” said Dolly, concisely; “no trimming, and swan’s-down. Eventhe Bilberry could n’t complain of that, I ‘m sure.”
Mollie, resting her smooth white elbows on the table in a comfortablylounging posture, regarded the garment with great longing in her drowsybrown eyes.
“I wish it was white satin,” she observed, somewhat irrelevantly, “andI was going to wear it at a real ball, with real lace, you know, and acourt train, and flowers, and a fan.”
Dolly looked down at her handsome childish face good-naturedly. Shewas such an incongruous mixture of beauty and utter simplicity, thiseasy-going baby of sixteen, that Dolly could not have helped liking herheartily under any circumstances, even supposing there had been no tieof relationship between them.
“I wish it was white satin and you were going to wear it,” she said.“White satin is just the sort of thing for you, Mollie. Never mind, waituntil the figurative ship comes in.”
“And in the interval,” suggested Aimée, “put a stitch or so in thatwrapper of yours. It has been torn for a week now, and Tod tumbles overit half a dozen times every
morning before breakfast.”
Mollie cast her eyes over her shoulder to give it an indifferent glanceas it rested on the faded carpet behind her.
“I wish Lady Augusta would mend things before she sends them to us,” shesaid, with sublime _naïveté_, and then, at the burst of laughter whichgreeted her words, she stopped short, staring at the highly entertainedcircle with widely opened, innocent eyes. “What are you laughing at?” she said. “I ‘m sure she might. She is always preaching about liking tohave something to occupy her time, and it would be far more charitableof her to spend her time in that way than in persistently going intopoor houses where the people don’t want her, and reading tracts to themthat they don’t want to hear.”
Dolly’s appreciation of the audacity of the idea reached a climax in anactual shriek of delight.
“If I had five pounds, which I have not, and never shall have,” shesaid, “I would freely give it just to see Lady Augusta hear you saythat, my dear. Five pounds! I would give ten--twenty--fifty, if need be.It would be such an exquisite joke.”
But Mollie did not regard the matter in this light. To herunsophisticated mind Lady Augusta represented nothing more thanperiodical boredom in the shape of occasional calls, usually madeunexpectedly, when the house was at its worst, and nobody was especiallytidy,--calls invariably enlivened by severe comments upon the evilpropensities of poor relations in general, and the shocking lack ofrespectability in this branch of the order in particular. Worldly wisdomwas not a family trait, Dolly’s half-whimsical assumption of it beingthe only symptom of the existence of such a gift, and Mollie was themost sublimely thoughtless of the lot. Mrs. Phil had never been guiltyof a discreet act in her life. Phil himself regarded consequences lessthan he regarded anything else, and Aimée’s childish staidness andforethought had certainly not an atom of worldliness in it. Accordingly,Dolly was left to battle with society, and now and then, it must beadmitted, the result of her brisk affrays did her no small credit.
For a very short space of time the merino was being disposed of to anadvantage; Dolly seating herself in her chair again to renovate theskirt; Aimée unpicking the bodice, and Mollie looking on with occasionalcomments.
“Here is Griffith,” she said, at last, glancing over her shoulder ata figure passing the window; and the next minute the door was openedwithout ceremony, and “Grif” made his appearance upon the scene.
Being called upon to describe Griffith Donne, one would hardly feelinclined to describe him as being imposing in personal appearance. Hewas a thin, undersized young man, rather out at elbows and shabby ofattire, and with a decided air of Bohemia about him; but his youthfulface was singularly pleasing and innocent, and his long-lashed,brown-black eyes were more than good-looking,--they were absolutelybeautiful in a soft, pathetic way,--beautiful as the eyes of theloveliest of women.
He came into the room as if he was used to coming into it in anevery-day fashion; and Dolly, looking up, gave him a smile and a nod.
“Ah, you are all here, are you?” he said. “What is on hand now? What isall this white stuff for?” And he drew a chair up close by Dolly’s side,and lifted the merino in his hand.
“For Friday night,” answered Aimée. “Bilberry’s again, Griffith. Coffeeand conversation this time.”
Griffith looked at Dolly inquiringly, but Dolly only laughed andshrugged her plump shoulders wickedly.
“Look here,” he said, with a disapproving air, “it ain’t true, is it,Dolly? You are not going to make a burnt-offering of yourself on theBilberry shrine again, are you?”
But Dolly only laughed the more as she took the merino from him.
“If you want a breadth of merino to hold, take another one,” shesaid. “I want that. And as to being a burnt-offering on the shrine ofBilberry, my dear Griffith, you must know it is policy,” and immediatelywent on with her unpicking again, while Griffith, bending over in anattitude more remarkable for ease than grace, looked on at her sharplittle glancing scissors with an appearance of great interest.
It would perhaps be as well to pause here to account for this youngman’s evident freedom in the family circle. It was very plain that hewas accustomed to coming and going when he pleased, and it was easy tobe adduced from his manner that, to him, Dolly was the chief attractionin the establishment. The fact was, he was engaged to Dolly, and hadbeen engaged to her for years, and in all probability, unless hisprospects altered their aspect, would be engaged to her for years tocome. In past time, when both were absurdly young, and ought to havebeen at school, the two had met,--an impressionable, good-natured,well-disposed couple of children, who fell in love with each otherunreasoningly and honestly, giving no thought to the future. Theywere too young to be married, of course, and indeed had not troubledthemselves about anything so matter of fact; they had fallen in love,and enjoyed it, and, strange to say, had been enjoying it ever since,and falling in love more deeply every day of their affectionate,inconsequent, free-and-easy lives. What did it matter to them thatneither owned a solitary sixpence, for which they had not a thousanduses? What did it matter to Dolly that Griffith’s literary career had sofar been so unremunerative that a new suit is as an event, and an extrashilling an era? What did it matter to Griffith that Dolly’s dresseswere re-trimmed and re-turned and re-furbished, until their reappearancewith the various seasons was the opening of a High Carnival of jokes?Love is not a matter of bread and butter in Vagabondia, thank Heaven!Love is left to Bohemia as well as to barren Respectability, and, asGriffith frequently observed with no slight enthusiasm, “When it comesto figure, where’s the feminine Philistine whose silks and satins andpurple and fine raiment fit like Dolly’s do?” So it went on, and thetwo adored each other with mutual simplicity, and, having their littlequarrels, always made them up again with much affectionate remorse, and,scorning the prudential advice of outsiders, believed in each other andthe better day which was to come, when one or the other gained worldlygoods enough to admit of a marriage in which they were to be happy intheir own way,--which, I may add, was a way simple and tender, unselfishand faithful, enough.
It was quite evident, however, that Griffith was not in the best ofspirits this morning. He was not as sanguine as Dolly by nature, andoutward influences tended rather to depress him occasionally. But henever was so low-spirited that Dolly could not cheer him, consequentlyhe always came to her with his troubles; and to her credit, be it said,she never failed to understand and deal with them tenderly, commonplacethough they were. So she understood his mood very well to-day. Somethinghad gone wrong at “the office.” (“The office” was the editorial denwhich swallowed him up, and held him in bondage from morning untilnight; appropriating his labor for a very small pecuniary compensation,too, it may be added.) “Old Flynn,” as the principal was respectfullydesignated, had been creating one of his periodical disturbances, or hehad been snubbed, which, by the way, was not a rare event, and to poorGriffith slights were stings and patronage poison. He could not laugh atthe enemy and scorn discomfiture as Dolly could, and the consequence ofan encounter with the Philistines on his part was usually a desperatefit of low spirits, which made him wretched, bitter, and gloomy byturns.
This morning it appeared that his spirits had reached their lowest ebb,and before many minutes had passed he was pouring forth his tribulationswith much frankness and simplicity. Mr. Griffith Donne’s principal trialwas the existence of an elderly maiden aunt, who did not approve of him,and was in the habit of expressing her disapproval in lengthy epistolarycorrespondence, invariably tending to severe denunciation of his mode oflife, and also invariably terminating with the announcement that unlesshe “desisted” (from what, or in what manner, not specified) she shouldconsider it her bounden duty to disinherit him forthwith. One of theseperiodical epistles, having arrived before he had breakfasted, hadrather destroyed Griffith’s customary equanimity, and various events ofthe morning had not improved his frame of mind; consequently he came toDolly for comfort.
“And she’s coming to Lo
ndon, too,” he ended, after favoring theassemblage with extracts from the letter. “And, of course, she willexpect me to do the dutiful. Confound her money! I wish she would buildan asylum for irate, elderly spinsters with it, and retire into itfor the remainder of her natural life. I don’t want it, and”--withpraiseworthy ingenuousness--“I shouldn’t get it if I did!”
“But,” said Dolly, when they found themselves alone for a few minutes,“it would be an agreeable sort of thing to have, Griffith, upon thewhole, wouldn’t it?”
They were standing close together by the fire, Griffith with his armthrown round the girl’s waist, and she with both her plump, flexiblehands clasped on his shoulder and her chin resting on them, and her big,round eyes gazing up into his. She was prone to affectionate, nestlingattitudes and coaxing ways--with Griffith it may be understood--herother adorers were treated cavalierly enough.
“A nice sort of thing,” echoed Griffith. “I should think it would. Ishould like to have it for your sake. I don’t care for it so much formyself, you know, Dolly, but I want the time to come when I can buy yousuch things as Old Flynn’s nieces wear. It would n’t be a waste of goodmaterial on such a figure as yours. I have an idea of my own about awinter dress I intend you to have when we are rich,--a dark blue velvet,and a hat with a white plume in, and one of those muff affairs made oflong white silky fur--”
“Angora,” said Dolly, her artless enjoyment of the idea shining in hereyes. “Angora, Griffith.”
“I don’t know what it’s called,” answered Griffith, “but it is exactlyyour style, and I have thought about it a dozen times. Ah, if we wereonly rich!”
Dolly laughed joyously, clasping her hands a little closer over hisshoulder. Their conversations upon prospects generally ended in somesuch pleasantly erratic remarks. They never were tired of supposingthat they were rich; and really, in default of being rich, it must beadmitted that there is some consolation in being in a frame of mindwhich can derive happiness from such innocent day-dreams.
“Just think of the house we would have,” she said, “and the fun we couldall have together, if you and I were rich and--and married, Griffith.We should be happy if we were married, and not rich, but if we were rich_and_ married--goodness, Griffith!” and she opened her eyes wide andlooked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcomeby reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught herin both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in anextremely but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he hadkissed her about half a dozen times.
It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding.She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used toit, and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quitea refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to herdisarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely.
“We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich,” shesaid. “And then we could take care, of Aimée and Mollie, and help themto make grand marriages.”
But that very instant Griffith’s face fell somewhat.
“Dolly,” he said, “have you never thought--not even _thought_ that youwould like to have made a grand marriage yourself?” And though therewas not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it wasglaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate withmisery at the thought.
These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girlbound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly’s great difficulty was topilot him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and shehad her own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was toconfront him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking holdof one of his coat buttons.
“I have thought of it a hundred times,” she said, “but not since I havebelonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteenyears old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have theright to trouble us now. _You_ never think of marrying any one but me,do you, Griffith?”
“Think of marrying any one else!” exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. “Iwould n’t marry a female Rajah with a diamond--”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Dolly interrupted. “I believe in you, Griffith.Why won’t you believe in me?” And the eyes lifted to his were soperfectly honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics musthave believed them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, butsimply an unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, toosusceptible to outward influences for his own peace of mind.
He was a _very_ unfortunate young man, it may as well be observed atonce, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was notto blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable,and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If hehad been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been moresuccessful; but in his intercourse with the world’s slippery ones hecustomarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for whichhe had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; hehad fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck hadseemed to be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honestmen admired and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesiedbetter days; but so far it had really seemed that the people who werewilling to befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerfulcared little about the matter. So he alternately struggled anddespaired, and yet retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyedlife heartily in defiance of circumstances. With every member of theCrewe household he was popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagementto Dolly they regarded as a satisfactory arrangement. That he was barelyable to support himself, and scarcely possessed a presentable suit ofclothes, was to their minds the most inconsequent of trifles. It wasunfortunate, perhaps, but unavoidable; and their sublime trust in theluck which was to ripen in all of them at some indefinite future time,was their hope in this case. Some time or other he would “get intosomething,” they had decided, and then he would marry Dolly, and theywould all enjoy the attendant festivities. And in the mean time theyallowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith welcome, inviting him totheir little impromptu suppers, and taking care never to be _de trop_ onthe occasion of _tête-à-tête_ conversations.
The _tête-à-tête_ of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went backto her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach laidfor the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of mind.He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in enthusiasticconfidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; she wasnever out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself to heraccompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited themselvesto her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby parlor, oneinstinctively felt that shabbiness was not so utterly unbearable afterall, and acknowledged that it had a brightness of its own. Meeting herat a clan gathering in the camps of the Philistines, one always foundher in excellent spirits, and quite undamped in her enjoyment of thefrequently ponderous rejoicings. In the Bilberry school-room, amongdog-eared French grammars and lead-pencilled music, education did notappear actually dispiriting; and now, as she sat by the fire, with thebright, sharp little scissors in lier hand, and the pile of white merinoon her knees and trailing on the hearth-rug at her feet, Griffith foundher simply irresistible. Ah! the bliss that revealed itself in theprospect of making her Mrs. Donne, and taking possession of herentirely! The joy of seeing her seated in an arm-chair of his own, bya fire which was solely his property, in a room which was nobody else’sparadise! He could imagine so well how she would regard such a state ofaffairs as a nice little joke, and would pretend to adapt herself toher position with divers daring witcheries practised upon himself to thedethroning of his reason; how she would make innocent, wicked speeches,and be coaxing and dazzling and mock-matronly by turns; and above all,how she would enjoy it, and make him enjoy it, too; and yet sometimes,when they were quiet and alone, would drop all her
whimsical little airsand graces, and make such tender, unselfish, poetic little speeches,that he would find himself startled in life wonder at the depthand warmth and generosity of her girlish heart. He often found hersurprising him after this manner, and the surprise usually came when hehad just been most nearly betrayed into thinking of her as an adorablelittle collection of witcheries and whimsicalities, and forgetting thatshe had other moods. More than once she had absolutely brought tearsinto his eyes, and a thrill to his heart, by some sudden, pathetic,trustful speech, made after she had been dazzling and bewildering forhours with her pretty coquetries and daring flashes of wit. No one butGriffith ever saw her in these intense moods. The rest of them saw herintense enough sometimes but the sudden, uncontrollable flashes of lightGriffith saw now and then, fairly staggered him. And the poor fellow’slove for her was something akin to adoration. There was only this onewoman upon earth to him, and his whole soul was bound up in her. It wasfor her he struggled against disappointment, it was for her he hoped,it was only the desperate strength of his love for her that madedisappointment so terribly bitter to him. Certainly his love made himbetter and sweeter-tempered and more energetic than he would have beenif his life had not been so full of it. His one ambition was to gainsuccess to lay at her feet. To him success meant Dolly, and Dolly meantParadise, an honest Paradise, in which primeval bliss reigned supremeand trial was unknown. Consequently the bright little scissors glancedbefore his eyes a sort of loadstar.
“I did n’t tell you that nephew of Old Flynn’s had come back, did I?” hesaid, at length.
“No,” answered Dolly, snipping diligently. “You never mentioned him.What nephew, and where did he come from?”
“A fellow of the name of Gowan, who has been travelling in the East forno particular reason for the last ten years. He called on Flynn, at theoffice, today, for the first time; and if I had been called upon tokick him out, I should have regarded it as a cheerful and improvingrecreation.”
“Why?” laughed Dolly. “Is he one of the Philistines?”
“Philistine!” echoed Griffith, with disgust. “I should think so. Acomplacent idiot in a chronic state of fatigue. Drove up to the doorin a cab,--his own, by the way, and a confoundedly handsome affair itis,--gave the reins to his tiger, and stared at the building tranquillyfor at least two minutes before he came in, stared at Old Flynn when he_did_ come in, stared at me, shook hands with Old Flynn exhaustedly, andthen subsided into listening and paring his nails during the remainderof the interview.”
“Which might or might not be discreet under the circumstances,” saidDolly. “Perhaps he had nothing to say. Never mind, Grif. Let us consoleourselves with the thought that we are not as these utterly worthlessexplorers of the East are,” with a flourish of the scissors.
“Better is a dinner of herbs in Vagabondia, with a garnish ofconversation and _bon-mots_, than a stalled ox among the Philistineswith dulness.”
But about an hour after Griffith had taken his departure, as she wasbending over the table, industriously clipping at the merino, a thoughtsuddenly crossed her mind, which made her drop her scissors and look upmeditatively.
“By the way,” she began, all at once. “Yes, it must be! How was it Idid not think of it when Grif was talking? I am sure, it was Gowan, LadyAugusta said. To be sure it was. Mollie, this exploring nephew ofthe Flynns is to partake of coffee and conversation with us at theBilberrys’ on Friday, if I am not mistaken, and I never remembered ituntil now.”