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Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie




"Yes, but I feel as if I shall never have the heart to play anything again,
Lancy," for this parting from her friend hurt her more than she expected.

"Oh! yes, you will;" and he drew her over to the window within the shadow
of the curtains. "The time will soon slip by, and when I go to claim you
it will seem to you like coming back home again. I shall always be looking
forward to that time, Dexie, so remember your promise."

"You must not forget the conditions, Lancy, and if you find your love grows
less, instead of more, be honest with your own heart, and do not, in your
pride, hide it from me. Absence may not 'make the heart grow fonder' in our
case," she added, with a sad smile.

"Do not prophesy evil, but think of the happy present. Are you afraid or
ashamed to own the fact to others, that you care for me at the present
time?"

"No, I do not think any one who knows us will accuse either of us of
bashfulness; the opposite has been laid to my charge until it has become an
old story," she replied.

"Well, seeing that we understand each other, why not wear your ring? I
particularly want Hugh to see it on your finger; I don't believe he has
given you up yet, Dexie. Will you wear it to please me?"

Dexie unclasped the chain from her neck, and Lancy slipped the ring in its
place on her finger.

"I think you need not mind what Hugh says or thinks," she said in a low
tone. "I did not intend to tell you, Lancy, but I will confess now that
Hugh saw that ring on my finger once before," and she told him the
substance of the stolen interview in the upper hall.

"That is how it happens that we are on speaking terms again," she added,
"but when Hugh gets well enough to travel, and begins to realize that he is
a rich man, he will smile at all this foolishness; but if I live a hundred
years, I will never forget that dreadful afternoon in the boat. Lieutenant
Wilbur is going to give him his revolver after I am gone; that will be a
reminder of it which he won't like, I am thinking!"

The next morning the last article was removed from the house, and the last
good-bye given to the friends they must leave behind them. The two families
met for the last time in Mrs. Gurney's parlor, and as they lingered over
the last words, Dexie seated herself at the piano, and there was no quiver
in her voice, though there were tears in her eyes, as she sang:

"Farewell, farewell, is a lonely sound,
And always brings a sigh;
Then give to me, when loved ones part,
That good old word, 'Good-bye.'"

Hugh and Lancy, as well as Elsie and Cora, accompanied the family to the
boat, which was to sail about noon. Hugh lingered near the group on the
steamer, hoping that Dexie would give him some kind word at parting, and at
last Lancy, very generously, took her over to his side, saying:

"Don't look so blue, old fellow; Dexie is not taking a final leave of
Halifax. Time is most up, I expect," he added hastily, as he took out his
watch, then turned aside as he saw Hugh's agitated face.

"It is really settled, then," said Hugh, in a low voice, as he took Dexie's
hand. "I wish you had left something that I could do for you, so that my
life will not feel quite so empty."

"I have no favor to ask of you, Mr. McNeil, yet if I hear that you have
been kind to Nina Gordon it will please me very much. Mind, I do not ask it
of you. If someone would have the goodness of heart to save her from her
mother, she would make a sensible woman yet. If Cora Gurney would only take
a friendly interest in her, I would not be afraid of the future of my
_double_. Good-bye, Mr. McNeil, that is the warning-signal, I believe."

Hugh seemed in no hurry to heed the warning, but stood aside where he could
watch Dexie's face as she parted from Lancy. He heeded not the few hurried
words so earnestly spoken, nor the fervent clasp of their hands, for there
was no answering light in Dexie's eyes as they rested on Lancy's face.
Friends were hurrying across the gang plank, but Hugh waited till Lancy had
disappeared; then stepping to Dexie's side, he hurriedly whispered:

"I was not mistaken! your heart has not yet awakened, as I said! and
Lancy's ring binds no heart but his own. All is fair in love and war, and
my chance is as good as his, after all! _Au revoir_, my little wife!" and
he raised his hat and hurried ashore.

His heart beat rapidly, and though he carried away the memory of Dexie's
indignant look, he stepped across the plank with a firm, light step. Lancy
wondered at the transformation which seemed to have taken place in Hugh
since he had seen him on deck, a few short minutes ago; but they stood
together and watched the receding steamer, until the one that was so dear
to them both was lost to view.

While Dexie was on deck taking her last look of "dear old Halifax," Gussie
hurried below to secure the best accommodation for herself, and she was so
long in deciding the matter that she appeared only in time to wave her
farewell from the deck.

After the bustle of departure had subsided, the steward came forward
bringing a moss-lined basket, filled with choice hothouse flowers, saying:

"A gentleman left this in my care, to be delivered to Miss Dexie Sherwood.
I believe it belongs to one of you ladies."

"Oh, Dexie, they can't _all_ be for you," said Gussie, eagerly, as she
reached out her hand and took the basket from the steward's hands.

"Here is a note directed to me; wait till I see who it is from," and Dexie
picked a tiny roll of paper from among the blossoms. One hasty glance over
the written lines, and Dexie curled her lip in a disdainful smile.

"You may have everyone of them, Gussie, for I don't want them," and she
drew herself away, as if the very touch of the basket were odious to her,
at which Gussie looked up in surprise.

"Hugh McNeil sent them, so you are welcome to everyone of them," she said
in a low voice, as the steward withdrew. "He is very particular to state
that they are for me alone," and her lip curled. "I wish they had been
brought to me while he was by, I would have tossed them overboard before
his eyes! Thank fortune, I have seen the last of him!"

"You will live to be sorry for your treatment of Hugh McNeil, mark my
words! He would not have found me so hard to please," and Gussie placed the
flowers tenderly beside her.

Strange, but the first thing that Dexie did when she reached the privacy
of her stateroom was to snatch Lancy's ring from her finger, almost
angrily, and slipping it again on the chain about her neck she snapped the
catch with no easy hand; and her face was far from being tender and loving
as she put out of sight the pledge of Lancy's love and fidelity, for she
was saying in her heart:

"I will never be so foolish as to put that on my finger again; it was wrong
to wear it at all. Hugh is right; it binds no heart but Lancy's, and I
doubt if I can truly say that much itself, three months from now."

* * * * *

If we look in upon the Sherwood household a few weeks later, we will find
them comfortably settled in the busy town of Lennoxville, a town which is
noted throughout New England for its manufacturing industries. The house is
pleasantly situated a short distance back from the street, allowing room
for a neat lawn in front of the house, which is made more attractive by a
few flower-beds set near the front entrance, and beneath the windows.

The former owner had taken much pleasure in designing the house and its
surroundings, and everything about the premises was neat, convenient and
attractive, but financial difficulties had obliged him to relinquish the
property just when he might naturally expect to reap the benefit of his
labors. Mr. Sherwood had purchased it at a very reasonable figure,
considering the advantages it possessed, and having obtained a permanent
and remunerative position in the office of a large manufacturing firm, the
family had reason to hope that this was their last move for some years.

Dexie was delighted at the possibilities which the well-laid-out kitchen
garden at the rear of the house promised to afford. Everything at present
was bare and sere, but when the spring opened it would require but little
labor, and that of a pleasant description, to prepare a garden that should
delight the heart of any housekeeper; and the flower-beds in the front of
the house, which were now covered and protected by branches of fir, would
in due season blossom into spots of beauty.

The family-life at this time was very pleasant. Gussie seemed to have
forgotten, for the time, all her former jealous and unkind feelings, which
had made her so often, while in Halifax, an unpleasant member of the
household.

Society in Lennoxville was pleasant and attractive, and the Sherwoods were
made right welcome among a choice circle of friends. Invitations to social
gatherings were showered upon the twin girls until their popularity was so
firmly established that no one thought of questioning it.

Dexie missed her Halifax friends very much. She met with no one in her new
home who could fill the place that the Gurney family had held in her heart,
and among all her many friends there was none she could make such an
intimate companion of as Elsie Gurney. In musical circles, Dexie soon
filled an envious position; but so far she had met no one whose sympathies
were like Lancy's. Oh, yes, she missed Lancy very much, indeed--she never
hesitated to confess it when the matter was alluded to; and very often,
when alone in the parlor, the piece of music which had such a strange power
over each of them filled the air with unmistakable longing, and seemed to
speak of loneliness and sorrow. But her bright face expressed no such sad
feeling to others; it seemed only the musical side of her nature that
mourned the loss of a kind and sympathetic friend.

She heard quite frequently from Elsie, and Lancy's weekly letters were
always bright and chatty; but they left Dexie with a certain uneasy feeling
that should have had no place in her heart, if Lancy's expressed regards
met with the reciprocation which he had some right to expect.

She would not have cared to confess to the relief she experienced when,
some weeks later, Lancy wrote to her of his intended visit to England,
where he meant to spend a few months among his relatives in Devonshire; and
the thought that the wide ocean would be between them, did not cause the
same regretful feeling in her heart as it did in Lancy's. Once since they
had left Halifax, Dexie, to her surprise, received a letter from Hugh
McNeil, that had come enclosed in one to her father. Mr. Sherwood said
little as to the contents of his letter; but the earnest, passionate words
in Dexie's left no doubt in her mind that Hugh had small intention of
giving up his suit, though for the present he would leave her in peace.

He told her of his intention of making a journey to Australia, to visit the
last resting-place of his father; and after an extended journey, he hoped
to come back and find all the unpleasantness in the past forgiven and
forgotten.

For some time after the letter was received, Dexie fancied that her father
regarded her with more attention than was necessary; but it soon passed
from her mind without giving her the slightest suspicion that Hugh had
placed in her father's hands a substantial and unmistakable proof of the
genuineness of his regard.

This was to be unknown to her until such a time as circumstances rendered
it necessary to communicate the facts. But if he survived the dangers of
the passage, and returned safely and found her still free, he would again
endeavor to gain her consent to a closer relationship.

Fortunately for Dexie's peace of mind, Mr. Sherwood kept the matter to
himself; but the fact that both Hugh and Lancy intended to put the ocean
between them and herself, even for a short time, gave her a sense of relief
and security which she would have found it difficult to explain.




CHAPTER XXXV.


One day, a few weeks later, as Mr. Sherwood was returning from his office,
he was much surprised to meet Mr. Plaisted on the street, and he stopped
and spoke to him cordially.

"Why, Sherwood! is it you? I never expected to meet you here," and Mr.
Plaisted shook hands with his former partner.

"I am settled here now," replied Mr. Sherwood. "What are you doing in this
part of the country?"

"I am travelling for a New York firm; just arrived in town this morning.
Did I understand you to say you were living here?"

"Yes; we removed from Halifax some time ago. Here is the address; drop in
and see us before you leave town, if you are not pressed for time," and he
handed him a card.

"Thanks! I shall be pleased to call this evening, my kind regards to the
family," and raising their hats the men separated, with but a passing
thought of their former differences.

The presence of Plaisted in the town was a great surprise to the Sherwood
family, and Dexie heard of his intended visit with a frown.

"I am astonished, papa, that you could ask him to call after all that has
happened; but it is like his impudence to accept the invitation, which he
might know was more an act of courtesy than a desire to renew his
acquaintance."

"Let bygones be forgotten, Dexie; it is poor policy to remember old scores
too long. It is enough that there will never be any more business relations
between us. His stay in town is likely to be short, so there is no fear
that he will trouble any of us long."

"Well, I hope you will be careful, and not say anything that he can
misconstrue into an invitation to remain with us overnight. But it will be
just like him to stay, and stay, and stay, till it is too late to go back
to the hotel," said Dexie. "But if he manages, after all, to foist himself
upon us, I'll take a cook's privilege and leave the house--until he is out
of it in the morning, anyway. So remember, papa, I have 'given warning,'"
and she shook her finger at him as she turned to leave the room.

But there was no frown on Gussie's face when she heard of Plaisted's
expected visit. She was only anxious to appear at her best, so she retired
to her chamber and spent the intervening time over a toilet that was meant
to impress Mr. Plaisted afresh. She was ready as ever to turn a listening
ear to his flattery, though she had ample opportunity to realize how empty
and meaningless were his words.

The family were assembled in the parlor when Mr. Plaisted was announced,
and he found no cause to complain of his reception, for even Dexie's cool
bow and formal greeting were so much like her former treatment of him that
when she ignored his offered hand he did not resent it openly. But in his
heart he vowed to "get even" with her. The frigid stare with which she
regarded him when he attempted to draw her into conversation reminded him
of past discomfitures, and, forgetting that he seldom came off victor when
crossing swords with Dexie, he determined to pay off old scores with
interest. As his business kept him in town for several days, his calls were
quite frequent, but he found no chance of annoying Dexie, save by the one
small and spiteful way of addressing her as "Miss Dexter," and the quick,
angry glance that was flashed at him as he said it told that she resented
it.

One afternoon, when he was in the parlor chatting with Gussie, Dexie came
into the room on some errand, and her slight bow of recognition gave him an
opportunity to ask, in his sneering manner, if she was "keeping her smiles
for the disconsolate lovers she had left behind her in Halifax?"

A sharp retort rose to her lips, but she repressed it, and her lip curled
with scorn as she answered his sallies in the coolest terms that common
civility allowed. He might as well have tried his cutting speeches on an
iceberg for all the satisfaction he received, so he dropped back to the
only source of annoyance at his command.

"Can I trouble you for a drink of water, Miss _Dexter_?" he said, with a
malicious grin.

Dexie took no notice of this request, knowing it was made only for the
purpose of using her detested name.

He repeated his request a second time, and even Gussie flushed at his
offensive tone, though she called Dexie's attention to the request.

"Dexie, Mr. Plaisted asks for a drink. Where are your manners?"

"I have sent them away for repairs, Gussie dear," Dexie replied, in her
sweetest tone, "and I fear they will not be returned to me until after Mr.
Plaisted has taken his departure. Very sorry, but they have experienced
such a strain these few days past that they were about worn out."

"Dexie, I am ashamed of you! Bring a drink of water for Mr. Plaisted
directly!"

"My dearest Gussie, if Mr. Plaisted wants a drink, pray get it for him
yourself," was the soft and sweet reply, "for he will surely die of thirst
before Dexter brings him a drop. Allow me to suggest that, as an
alternative, you can ring for the servant to wait on him, or lead him to
the pump like any other--beast," and unmoved by the looks cast upon her she
passed into the next room.

"You brought that upon yourself, Mr. Plaisted, but I am very, very sorry,"
said Gussie, who felt all the insolence of the words that were spoken with
such suavity. "Why will you call her _Dexter_ when you know that it makes
her throw aside all civility?"

"Well, it _is_ too bad, I will allow," replied Plaisted, "but I own that I
have only myself to blame when I provoke her into making such stinging
retorts; but the temptation to tease her is irresistible, and I owe her for
a good many tricks she has played on me."

"Well, were I in your place, I would not call her 'Dexter' any more; though
if your experience of her is not warning enough, I need say nothing more."

"Well, I must admit that she has always had the best of it so far; but I
will take good care she has no chance to repeat any of her former
tactics--though, if I am not mistaken, I have good cause to remember every
visit I ever made to your house, thanks to her. However, I ought to take
the old proverb to heart, 'Those that live in glass houses should not throw
stones,' for I should feel vexed enough if my second name were thrown at me
in the same manner. It is quite as odious to me as 'Dexter' is to her."

"What is your second name? 'D.S.' are your initials, are they not?"

"Yes; but you would never guess what the 'S.' stands for. When I was a
little shaver my father was particularly interested in the history of the
Prophet Daniel and his three friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, and
I believe he fully intended to name me after the four of them; but at my
christening mother drew the line at Shadrach. I am just as close regarding
my second name as Dexie is about her own--so close, in fact, that not one
of my schoolmates ever found it out."

"But did they never ask what the 'S.' stood for?" Gussie asked.

"Of course! but Dan_u_el gave it as Samuel, and had to answer to the name
of 'Dan_u_el Sam_u_el'; but that was better than the changes they would
have rung on my right name."

Dexie was an unintentional listener to this explanation, and it did not
raise Mr. Plaisted in her estimation. It was so like him to treat another
in a way he would object to himself; but after awhile the name came back to
her, "Shadrach." Where had she seen or heard that name before? "Shadrach;
Shadrach," she mused. "I have it!" she said at last; "the 'Widow Bedott'!"
and with the thought she flew up the stairs like a whirlwind.

Dexie was soon in the attic kneeling beside an old box filled with books
and papers. All housekeepers are apt to know by experience the state and
condition of this box, and to possess its counterpart in some out
of-the-way corner of the house. After a diligent search Dexie was rewarded
by finding a package of loose leaves which once formed a much-loved volume.
The very leaf she wanted seemed lost; but to her great joy a leaf, crumpled
and torn, proved to be the object of her search. She smoothed it out
carefully, glanced over it, and then laughed softly to herself.

"Now it is my turn, 'dear Shadrach, my Shad.' With the help of 'Widow
Bedott,' I fancy I can impress this visit upon your mind quite as indelibly
as your unwelcome visits in Halifax," and she slipped the loose leaves into
her pocket.

Still, as yet she had no definite plan in her mind as to how she would play
her game of retaliation; but during the evening she heard her father
inquire how long Mr. Plaisted intended to remain in the town.

"I leave the day after to-morrow," Plaisted replied. "I have an appointment
in H---- on the fifteenth."

"Oh, to-morrow is St. Valentine's day!" cried Gussie. "I really had
forgotten it. You must send me a valentine to remember you by"--this to
Plaisted, who had seated himself beside her on the sofa.

"Am I likely to be forgotten without some reminder?" was the low-spoken
reply. "I was hoping something quite different."

The mention of valentines gave Dexie an idea, and during the evening she
visited several stores where these tokens of sentiment were kept for sale,
but found nothing in the shape of a picture that would suit the verses of
tender sentiment so touchingly expressed for her beloved Shadrach by the
fair widow.

As she was returning home she passed a little shop, the windows of which
were decorated with valentines of the one and two cent variety, and one of
these caught her attention. It was one of the most common sort, and showed
in variegated colors a large fish with two tails for legs, two elongated
fins for arms, on one of which was a basket containing some smaller
specimens of its own species, while the other held to its mouth the
melodious fish-horn that delights our ears every morning.

Purchasing this caricature of a shad, she pasted below it a version of the
affectionate lines of Widow Bedott; then enclosing it in an elaborate
envelope, she addressed it with many flourishes to:

"MR. DANUEL SHADRACH PLAISTED,"

and carried it herself to the post office.

As she passed the fish market her attention was attracted by some very fine
shad displayed for sale, and they immediately suggested a further means of
accomplishing her revenge, so she ordered a supply.

Dexie sought her mother directly she arrived home.

"Don't you think we might ask Mr. Plaisted to dinner to-morrow, mamma?" she
asked.

"Please yourself, Dexie; but if he is asked, you must see about the dinner
yourself. It will not do to trust Eliza to get up anything extra, you
know."

"The dinner shall be well served, but I have a favor to ask, mamma. If Mr.
Plaisted is present, will you praise or condemn the fish course--at the
table, I mean; praise it highly, or condemn it heartily."

"Well, I cannot see your object in making such a request, Dexie," said her
mother in surprise, "but I will not be indifferent, if that is what you
mean."

The next morning, when Mr. Sherwood was drawing on his gloves to go to his
office, Dexie followed him out to the hall, and as she brushed a few specks
from his coat, asked:

"If you see Mr. Plaisted this morning, will you send or bring him up to
dinner; but don't say that I told you to ask him?"

"Well, what's in the wind now? I thought you did not care for Mr.
Plaisted's society," regarding her intently.

"An invitation to dinner does not mean that I have changed my opinion of
him, does it? He has been quite unbearable, so I'm going to 'heap coals of
fire on his head.'"

The roguish gleam in her eyes, and the smile she could not conceal, made
her father think that there was more in the invitation than he understood,
and he surmised that the "coals of fire" were not absolutely figurative.

"All right! I'll see that he gets the invitation. What shall I order for
dinner?"

"Nothing, papa; I have everything ready for our expected guest, so don't
let him disappoint me."

"Hum-m! there's something up, sure enough; though I can't see through it
yet," he said to himself as he walked thoughtfully away.

"So far, so good," said Dexie, _sotto voce_. "How I wish I could have seen
Shadrach when he opened his valentine this morning!"

Dexie would have felt satisfied that her shaft had struck home had she seen
Plaisted when he had "taken in" the contents of his valentine.

He had stepped into the office to mail Gussie's valentine, and was much
surprised when a beautiful envelope was placed in his hands. It held
something very sweet and delicate, no doubt, and as he turned aside he
pressed it to his lips.

Observing the name of Shadrach, he felt sure it must have come from Gussie;
no one else knew his second name, so she must have sent this sweet
love-token. It was hardly fair to write out his name in full; but, of
course, it was only done to make known the identity of the sender. He
thrust it into his pocket and hastened to his hotel, where in the privacy
of his own room he could enjoy it without interruption. The loving words he
expected to find were certainly there, yet as he read them a dark frown
gathered on his brow:

"Dear Danuel Shadrach! thy valentine speaks,
While the rosy red blushes surmantle her cheeks;
And the joys of requital brings tears to her eye.
Now, Shadrach! my Shadrach! I'm yours till I die.

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