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Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie




She meekly submitted to the extra wraps that Lancy insisted on placing
round her face, and she felt, as she stood beside him, that Lancy's
tenderness and love added not a little to her daily happiness, even though
she had not just the same regard for him as he professed to have for her.

"I think I'll drive down with Hugh," she said teasingly, as they came down
the steps to the street, where both sleighs were waiting.

"But I won't let you," said Lancy quickly. "You are mine for this evening.
I have earned that much, surely. I can't spare you to anyone else, my
Dexie," and he lifted her in beside himself.

They drove quickly to the hall, and were soon in the dressing-room, among
the bevy of young ladies who were to take part in the concert. Gussie's
heart was pierced with envy as she noticed how much attention was bestowed
on her sister, and she heartily wished that Dexie had kept to her refusal
of the morning.

Mr. Ross noticed that his peace-offering was not appreciated, and wisely
refrained from further remarks, giving the necessary directions in as few
words as possible.

Very gay did the Temperance Hall look that evening, with its walls draped
with bunting and its stage decorated with palms and other ornamental
plants; and it never held a larger audience than now awaited the opening
chorus, while the applause that filled the house at its close seemed to
make the rafters ring.

The first selections were admirably performed, and were fully enjoyed by
those present, but when that part of the programme was reached in which the
"American Warbler" made her first appearance, the enthusiasm reached its
height, and found vent in round after round of applause.

Lancy made his appearance first, taking his seat at the piano. This
intimated that he was not the "Warbler," and the audience looked around in
doubt, as if asking each other what next to expect.

A moment later Dexie appeared, and the sea of expectant faces made her
tremble. What if she should fail?

The appearance of this bright young girl, bowing before them, caused a
moment's hush to fall upon the people. Was she the "warbler," and what was
the character of the performance that was rated so highly? After an
exquisitely rendered interlude, Dexie's clear whistle joined the
accompaniment, and seemed to hold the listeners spell-bound. At its close a
moment of silence followed, but when Lancy rose from the instrument the
applause began, and grew louder and more deafening, and Mr. Ross hurried to
Dexie's side as she left the stage.

"You must come forward again, Miss Sherwood; that encore is not to be
resisted," as the thunderous applause grew in volume.

She took Lancy's arm at last, and stepped forward and bowed her
acknowledgement. But that was not enough; nothing but a repetition would
satisfy the enthusiastic audience, and when Mr. Ross asked her to give "The
Mocking Bird" she felt obliged to consent. Mr. Ross had rightly judged a
Halifax audience when he said it would not be content with one performance,
and not till the strains from the piano rang through the building, followed
by the appearance of Dexie, did the uproar cease.

Lancy played a long interlude to give Dexie time to compose herself, then
the first strains of the familiar song floated softly through the hall, and
very tender and touching did the words sound as they fell from Lancy's
lips, for genuine feeling was behind them. It was like a passage in a
love-story, and where is the person that does not enjoy the repetition of
some passages, even though they may, at the same time, pronounce them silly
and sentimental in the extreme?

Dexie stood near the piano. Her soft, low whistle seemed to come from a
distance, then floated nearer and nearer, gaining strength and volume as
the song progressed; and when Lancy sang "Listen to the Mocking Bird," the
joyous, bewildering notes of the birds she was imitating seemed floating
directly overhead, then receded as the next verse was sung, returning
fuller and sweeter to accompany the chorus, each verse seeming to grow more
tender and beautiful, and, when it ended, the enraptured audience showed
their appreciation by applauding with all their strength.

"No; I cannot go out again," Dexie said, as Mr. Ross urged her to appear
once more in answer to the call. "It is not fair to the rest, for there
are other things on the programme much nicer."

"Just this once more," Lancy pleaded, his eyes shining with satisfaction.

"Come on to the stage, at least, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, "or they
will have the house down over our ears. May I announce that you will
whistle again at the conclusion of the programme?" and Dexie had to
consent. Mr. Ross led her to the front of the stage, and the audience,
expecting another repetition, subsided into silence; but it was soon broken
when the announcement was made that they should have another selection
later on.

Mr. Sherwood found his way to the dressing-rooms, and received Dexie with
open arms, while numbers gathered around to congratulate her on her
success.

"I am proud of you, Dexie," her father said, as they stepped aside. "I was
down among the audience while you were whistling, and on every side I heard
words of warmest praise. Your fear of being hissed was a foolish fear,
after all. I am sure you are not sorry that you came here to-night."

"No, papa; but I do hope that Mrs. Gurney will be pleased. I whistled for
her and Lancy to-night, and if they are satisfied, that is enough. But,
listen! That is Gussie's voice; that is the duet between her and Miss
Burns. Oh, I do hope they will applaud her heartily!"

But no such feeling had dwelt in Gussie's heart when Dexie was before the
audience. If she had failed, had completely broken down or been hissed off
the stage, as Dexie herself feared, Gussie would have exulted in her
failure; yet if Gussie had faltered in the least, none would have felt it
so keenly as her twin sister Dexie.

"Did you see Hugh among the audience?" Lancy whispered from behind her
chair.

"Yes; how savage he looked! Such a scowl does not improve his handsome
face, if he only knew it. I never saw him look more fierce."

"I expect that he did not like to see you leaning on my arm before them
all," he whispered. "He is fearfully jealous, Dexie, so do not flirt with
him any more when he goes in to see Gussie," he added, as he stroked his
growing moustache.

"I am not likely to flirt with Hugh McNeil or anyone else," she said, with
some spirit; "but judging by the looks cast in this direction, I am under
suspicion already, so please leave me, Lancy."

The several selections on the programme were performed to everyone's
satisfaction, but every time that Dexie appeared, either as a singer or
accompanist, she was received with such marked favor that it was plainly to
be seen who was the favorite.

"Now, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, as the last piece ended and cries for
"the warbler" arose in the hall, "send them home so well pleased with our
entertainment that they will all be eager to attend our next."

"There is to be no repetition this time, Mr. Ross," said Dexie, decidedly.
"Let Mr. Gurney play the National Anthem directly the piece is ended."

"Very well. I will direct the members of the club to be ready to step
forward the moment your piece is finished, and we will dismiss them with
'God Save the Queen.'"

As Lancy and Dexie made their appearance the clapping of hands arose again,
and, under cover of the noise, Dexie whispered a few words to Lancy, who
immediately secured another piano stool. Then they both sat down before the
instrument and waited for the signal to begin.

A moment later and the outburst of melody that filled the hall seemed to
come from a multitude of song-birds, and the peculiar, bird-like whistle
never sounded sweeter or clearer as it rang out in answer to Lancy's more
powerful notes, their fingers meanwhile flying over the keys in delightful
harmony. Dexie forgot the hundreds of eager listeners. She seemed to have
partaken of the free, joyous nature of the birds she was so cleverly
imitating, and when the last notes had died away the applause that greeted
their ears seemed to shake the building.

It was a decided relief when the notes from the piano overruled the uproar.
A moment later and the stage was peopled by the members of the club, the
notes of the National Anthem sounded through the hall, and the audience
below rose to their feet at this the closing signal.

As the crowd passed out the door, Hugh McNeil made his way to the front;
and as he went at once to help Cora Gurney, and gave Gussie the assistance
she asked for, Dexie thought nothing of his sudden appearance amongst them
until he bent over her and hissed in her ear:

"I could have killed the both of you as you stood there making love to each
other before them all, as if you belonged to him already! You shall be
mine, not his! I swear it! so take care how you trifle with me!"

Dexie, terrified by his angry looks, hurried away, and Lancy, noticing her
white face, asked anxiously:

"What has happened to you, Dexie? You are as white as a ghost."

"Oh! that big Frenchman has frightened me. Didn't you see him talking to me
just now?"

"Yes, but I supposed he was congratulating you on your success."

"It is a pity you could not have heard his congratulations, Lancy. I fancy
you would not consider them complimentary," and they hurried homeward.

Mrs. Gurney had arranged a little supper for those of the household who
attended the concert, and if anyone noticed Hugh's absence, no one dreamed
of the cause thereof.

The skill that was required to keep out of Hugh's way during the weeks that
followed, might have raised Dexie to an eminent position if it could have
been turned into another channel. Such a sharp lookout lest Hugh might find
her alone, such a dodging through doors when his strategy had almost
succeeded in bringing her face to face--really it was a marvel how
skilfully she avoided him. Yet the fact that she did avoid him gave him a
false hope, and he thought if he could once lay his heart before her the
battle would be his.




CHAPTER XVIII.


Winter changed into spring slowly yet surely, and the almanac declared that
summer was nigh long before people were prepared to accept the assurance.

To Elsie Gurney the spring had been particularly trying, and her mother
began to feel anxious as day after day found her lying on a couch, listless
and weary. The doctor advised change of scene as the best means to recover
health and spirits, and Mrs. Gurney decided at last to accept the kind and
repeated invitation of a dear friend living in Charlottetown, and send
Elsie thither under Lancy's escort. Mrs. Gurney wrote to her friend
explaining Elsie's condition, and the kind letter that came in reply caused
preparations to be made at once for the visit.

"My guest chambers are all vacant," wrote Mrs. Fremont, "and my girls are
delighted with the prospect of having someone new to the place to show
around and gossip with. But, with your houseful, surely you can spare more
than two of your family. Remember, I have not seen any of you since we came
to Charlottetown, so be generous. Launcelot must not think of returning for
some weeks, and he must come prepared to see a deal of service, for my
girls have already planned drives and picnics that he must lead to success,
for Huburt has not yet returned from abroad, and an elder brother is sadly
missed in these little pleasure-parties. Elsie shall have the best of care,
and I feel safe in promising that when she returns home all trace of her
illness will be dispelled."

But Elsie shrank from this visit and begged to be allowed to stay at home.
She was naturally shy and reserved, and to go among new faces, and into
strange places, and be expected to take part in the pleasures that were
being prepared, oh! this was worse than being ill at home, for then her own
dear ones would be near her.

But the visit, like the big doses of medicine that the doctor ordered, had
to be taken, whether she liked it or not, and the preparations went on,
though it grieved her mother to see how Elsie shrank from the visit.

One day when Elsie was crying about her "banishment from home," Dexie
Sherwood came into the room, and learning the cause of Elsie's tears she
frankly stated her mind as follows:

"Well, if you are not a baby, then I never saw one! The idea of you lying
there crying until your eyes are red and swollen because you are going off
on a fine cruise! I declare! if I thought I should be treated half so well,
I'd fall sick this very day, and you may be sure I would select some
complaint that required a change of scene to restore me," and, assuming an
expression of extreme woe, she added:

"Your kind friend in Charlottetown didn't say that any sick neighbor might
join you, I suppose? for, ah me! I am beginning to feel awfully bad
already. Where, oh! where can I go to regain my shattered health?"

Elsie's tears of grief changed to tears of laughter, and she replied,

"Well, I suppose it does look silly for me to be fretting because I have to
go away, but I hate to go among strange people. If Cora could come with me
I would not mind it at all."

"But Lancy is going with you," said Dexie, "so you cannot come to any great
harm. The people over there are quite civilized, I'm told, so they won't
likely eat you; not till you get a little more flesh on your bones,
anyway."

Mrs. Gurney, who was in the room, lifted her eyes to Dexie's animated face,
and said in her gentle, motherly tone,

"Dexie, my dear, why couldn't _you_ go with Elsie? I was stupid not to have
thought of it before."

"For my health, do you mean, Mother Gurney? But I am afraid I have
recovered it already. I have made Elsie laugh, and the unusual sound has
cured me like a charm."

"Well, not exactly for _your_ health, my dear, but for Elsie's," she
replied, as she looked into the laughing face before her. "When I think of
the double benefit your companionship would be to her, I wonder that the
thought did not occur to me before."

"Oh! Mrs. Gurney, I feel so ashamed," and Dexie covered her hot cheeks for
a moment with her hands. "I never intended to suggest such a thing when I
made such a thoughtless remark. Oh! what can you think of me! Indeed I only
said it to make Elsie laugh."

"There, there; of course I understood your bit of fun," and Mrs. Gurney
patted the blushing girl on her shoulder, "but when a suggestion made in
sport brings such a change in Elsie's looks, how much good would result if
the jest were turned to earnest."

"But imagine me going to Mrs. Fremont's when she is not aware of my
existence! I couldn't pass myself off as Cora, for I am too unlike any of
the family. Indeed, I fear my wickedness would soon betray me," her
embarrassment giving place to a mischievous air.

"If I write and introduce you, you can feel as sure of as hearty a welcome
as if you were one of my family. But we must not make plans till we consult
your parents," said Mrs. Gurney, turning to leave the room.

"Oh! Dexie, if you only _would_ come with me, it would make all the
difference in the world," said Elsie. "A weight seems lifted off my heart
at the thought."

"Yes, but look at all the nice dresses you are getting made. You would find
me a very shabby companion, for I never dare ask mamma for a new dress
unless Gussie is in need of one also; but now that papa is home I might
manage that difficulty, and I am quite sure of Aunt Jennie's help."

Mrs. Gurney was soon discussing the matter with the parents next door,
making much of the great favor it would be to herself if they would spare
Dexie to accompany Elsie to Charlottetown. Consent was readily granted,
though Mrs. Sherwood could not refrain from expressing a fear that the
necessary preparations would be rather troublesome, as she did not feel
able to make any extra exertion herself.

Mrs. Sherwood was quite an invalid, or at least she thought she was, which
amounted to about the same thing. Necessity did not compel her to bestir
herself very much, so she began to think she _could_ not, and she was
generally found lying on a sofa with a book as companion.

Dexie's absence from home would be rather a pleasant relief than otherwise,
as she had an unpleasant way of finding unfinished work and laying it in a
work-basket by her mother's side for completion. Dexie's brisk ways and
ceaseless activity were extremely annoying, as it seemed a continual
reproach to Mrs. Sherwood, who preferred the easy, languid movements of her
twin sister.

No one raised any objections to Mrs. Gurney's plans except Gussie, and her
objections were many and loudly expressed.

It was shameful of Dexie to thrust herself into the Gurney family as she
was doing. Anyone could see that it was more on Lancy's account than
Elsie's that Dexie was so delighted to accompany them. Why didn't she go
and live with them at once? She might as well, seeing that so much of her
sewing was being prepared in Mrs. Gurney's sewing-room.

This, and pages more, was reiterated daily, till Dexie would snatch up her
work and run to her aunt's room, and she was heartily glad when the time
came to leave Gussie and her unkind words behind her.

Yet it was not only on Gussie's account that she felt so glad to be off,
for, when Hugh McNeil heard of her intended departure, he added his
persecutions also. At first, when he learned that Lancy was to accompany
Elsie, his heart beat high with hope. Dexie would be free from Lancy's
influence, and he hoped much from a few weeks of uninterrupted intercourse.
His passion for Dexie had grown as the weeks went by, and when the one
obstacle, Lancy, was removed, all would be well. His visits to the
Sherwoods were more frequent than ever, and he openly showed his preference
for Dexie's society.

But Gussie had no other admirer just then, and she accepted the attentions
meant for her sister as if they were her own just due. This was so
exasperating to Hugh that, when Dexie turned away from him, he would take
his hat and leave abruptly. This strange behavior Gussie set down to
everything except the true cause, for she did not dream that Hugh's
affections had been transferred to her sister, for Dexie openly snubbed
him.

But, when Hugh learned that Dexie was preparing to accompany the others, he
was almost beside himself with rage. He refused at first to believe it--the
idea was too preposterous! Well it was that the announcement was not made
to him before the assembled household, for his face revealed the fierce
conflict within, and he had quite as many objections to make as Gussie,
though they were not so openly and freely expressed. Chancing to meet Dexie
in the hall, after repeated efforts to catch her alone, his bitter
disappointment was so touchingly expressed that, for the first time, Dexie
felt a sort of pity for the man, though she could not understand the
intense feeling that seemed to possess him.

"Promise me five minutes alone! only five minutes!" he begged, as Dexie
tried to pass him. "You will surely grant me that small favor before you
go! I must speak to you, Dexie, even if you refuse me a private interview."

"I have no right to grant even 'five minutes' interview' to my sister's
lover," was the cool reply. "You can have nothing to say to me that might
not be said before the whole family."

"Am I your sister's lover? You know better, Dexie! I have been blinded by
her pretty face, but my eyesight has returned to me. I want something more
than beauty in my future wife," and he tried to catch her hand.

But Dexie was too quick for this movement, and she hotly replied:

"And I hope you may get it! May she be blessed with a temper hot enough to
make even a Frenchman tire of dancing to the music of her tongue!" and with
this retort she flew past him, and the door slammed behind her.

Hugh stood for a moment and gazed after her; then, turning on his heel,
pulled the ends of his long moustache into his mouth as he muttered to
himself:

"Not so bad, my little girl! The hot temper is there fast enough, but it
won't make me dance, unless it will be for joy at getting the owner of it."

This happened just the day before they started on their journey, and,
through the hours of that busy day, Dexie kept wondering what Hugh wished
to tell her. Should she see him and be done with it? No; for his earnest
looks and half-spoken words told all too plainly the nature of the
interview. Dexie never could explain, even to herself, why she disliked
Hugh so much; but his very presence seemed to raise up all the opposition
there was within her. To a stranger, he would have seemed more attractive
than Lancy Gurney. His figure had attained to manly proportions, and his
manner had a charm that was quite pleasing. His dark, handsome face and
brilliant black eyes seemed to tell of southern birth; and the heavy,
upward-curling moustache added much to his attractions. Dexie had looked
upon him with favorable eyes when she first came to Halifax. He had formed
a striking contrast to Gussie's fair beauty, but the memory of his handsome
face was far from pleasant as Dexie thought of the words he had spoken to
her in the hall.

Yet Hugh succeeded after all, and the five minutes he asked for thrice
repeated themselves before Dexie could escape from his presence.

The back of the house, or ell, which formed the kitchen, was a story less
in height than the main building, and its flat roof was often utilized by
both families as a drying-ground for small articles of clothing, and Dexie
had stepped out of the window that overlooked this roof to bring in some
forgotten articles that hung on the line.

It had been very warm all day, and as Dexie stood a minute, enjoying the
cool breeze that blew in from the harbor, her figure was distinctly
outlined to observers from the rear of the house; but her presence might
have escaped notice, had she not been softly whistling some little song.

Hugh had just returned from the depot, where he had taken the luggage which
was to accompany the young travellers in the morning, and his heart was
full of bitter feelings as he thought of his master's son filling the place
he coveted so dearly.

As he passed into the yard, Dexie's soft whistle reached his ears. He was
too well acquainted with the sound not to recognize the source of it, and,
glancing up, he saw her there in the twilight, the breeze gently lifting
her wavy hair and fluttering the ribbons around her neck, as if
endeavoring to attract his attention. One glance was enough, and before
Dexie knew he had returned from the depot, she was startled by his
appearance beside her.

She turned to enter the house, but Hugh had not gained this opportunity
merely to let it slip by, so he boldly stepped before her and shut the
window, and his exultant face was a strong contrast to the expression
depicted on Dexie's.

They stood thus face to face for several moments, silently regarding each
other--Hugh flushed with triumph, his eyes glowing with a feeling of
victory; Dexie, her heart beating fast in her anger, white and defiant as
she regarded her audacious companion.

It was Dexie who broke the silence. In a tone of the utmost contempt she
said, as she waved him aside:

"Stand back out of my way and let me pass," and she moved towards the
window.

"Not yet, Dexie, just hear me for a moment. I want to speak to you."

"Not a word, sir, let me pass at once! How dare you keep me here against my
will!"

His tone of entreaty changed to command.

"Because it is my will that you shall hear me," and his face grew paler as
he spoke. "For once you shall listen to what I have to say. I can be silent
no longer."

"Well, if you must unburden your mind, talk to the chimney there; it will
care quite as much for what you have to say as I. It is quite in keeping
with the estimate I had formed for you, to keep me here a prisoner on the
house-top. Stand aside at once and let me enter the house."

"Dexie," he said more firmly, "I am not going to let you pass until I tell
you what I came here to say. Is it not enough that I am to lose the sight
of your bright face for such long, weary weeks, that I must be refused
these few moments--moments that I must perforce steal from you if I am to
get them at all? Do I need to tell you what a blank my life will be while
you are away; and not only a blank, but a fearful dream of blasted hopes
and weary longing? Oh, Dexie, take away some of the bitterness that your
absence will cause, by giving me, at least, the promise that you will not
forget me while you are away."

"Not forget you, indeed!" she said in a rising voice. "I may forgive you
this insult, but you may be sure that I will do my best to forget you, just
as quickly as I can. I am not given to remembering unpleasant things."

"Dexie, do not talk so bitterly; you do not mean it; say you do not,
Dexie?" he said, entreatingly. "You are vexed at being kept here against
your will; come, then, let us go inside and talk it over quietly," he
added, persuasively, and he reached for her hand.

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