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Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie




"Something is troubling Dexie to-night," he said to himself, as he noticed
how unusually silent and preoccupied she remained, even when the merriment
seemed at its height. "I must be on the alert and see that she is not
troubled unnecessarily," for being a frequent visitor, he was aware that
Gussie was not always the pleasant person she appeared to be, and he,
somehow, connected her with Dexie's present mood.

But in this case he was mistaken. The evening mail had brought Dexie a
letter from Hugh McNeil. She had heard so little of him for some time that
she began to hope (when she thought of him at all) that he had forgotten
her or had found other attractions that had effaced her from his memory.
But this unlooked-for letter told a different story, and his half-expressed
determination to seek her presence and renew his suit filled her with
dismay.

She had thrust the letter hastily into her pocket with but a rapid glance
at its contents, just as her numerous guests were ushered in; and her time
had been so engrossed that the letter itself was forgotten, though the
memory of the eager, passionate words therein was bringing up all the
unpleasant scenes that had happened in Halifax in connection with Hugh.

During the evening she had, with the help of the cook, set out a dainty
repast in the dining-room, and as she made her way into the parlor again to
invite the guests to come and partake of it, she wondered at the sound that
reached her ears, for instead of the hum of many voices one voice alone
was heard, and that was Gussie's.

Now, for some time back the frequent visits of Guy Traverse had aroused
suspicions in Gussie's mind. They certainly were not always intended for
her father, and he never offered himself as her escort unless Dexie was in
her company. She had repeatedly hinted that Dexie was "already spoken for,"
but the hint was not acted on in the way Gussie expected. Remembering all
this, Gussie's conduct this particular evening is seen in its true light,
but it brought its own punishment.

In some unaccountable way, Hugh's letter had dropped from Dexie's pocket
while she sat sewing at the badges with the rest, and in searching for a
spool of thread, it fell into Gussie's hands. She glanced over the letter,
but did not notice the signature. Hugh had been thinking more of touching
Dexie's heart than of giving his letter the usual appearance, and had left
place, date and all tell-tale marks to find room at the bottom of the
closely-written sheet. Gussie guessed at once it was Dexie's letter, and
thought it would be "fun" to read it before those assembled; it would let
Guy Traverse know that he was wasting his time over Dexie. No one in the
room had the least idea what she meant when she rose from her chair and
said:

"Oh! friends, listen! here is a specimen of true love for you!"

"My dearest love, my heart's one treasure:

"It is no longer any use to try and put you out of my heart. I
have tried to do it as you wished, but I cannot. I love you, my
darling, and my love will not die, try as I may to kill it. You
thought I could forget you if I went among fresh scenes and new
faces; but it is not so--your dear face is ever before me.
Sleeping or waking, it is the same. I cannot live without you, my
dearest--"

"Augusta! Augusta! what are you doing? Is that your own letter you are
making public?"

The words cut the air like a flash of steel.

That word "Augusta" was reproof in itself, and Gussie felt it instantly,
and she shivered as she looked up and met the flashing eyes of her sister.

"No," she replied, her cheeks aflame, but angry spite dies hard, and she
smiled scornfully, as she added, "I was amusing the company with a specimen
of love-making that is rare outside of novels. It is your letter, I
believe."

Before Dexie could reply, Guy Traverse had risen to his feet, and coming
towards the table so that his form partly shielded Dexie from view, said:

"If you have read all you wish of my letter, Miss Gussie, I beg you will
return it to me," and he took it from her hand and thrust it into his
breast-pocket; then turning a woeful face to the astonished guests, he
said:

"Friends, have mercy on a fellow when he is down, and forget what you heard
just now. It was too bad of you, Miss Gussie, to expose a poor fellow's
feelings in that way. I ought to have posted my broken-hearted appeal
before I came in here, but I thought I might be able to think of some
stronger language that would touch the hard heart of my lady-love. I am not
in luck, as you can guess; but do not, I beg of you, let it go any farther.
I appeal to you, as members of T. and B., to keep this matter quiet and not
let it be talked about. Boys, you know how it is yourselves," and in
seeming embarrassment he turned to the window and remained in the shadow of
the curtain.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, Mr. Traverse," Gussie gasped out, properly ashamed
for once. "I never imagined the letter was yours," and hiding her burning
cheeks in her hands she hurriedly left the room and flew to her chamber,
wondering how she could ever look those people again in the face.

Traverse had given Dexie time to recover herself, and in a steadier voice
than she could have commanded a few moments before, she asked the friends
to drop their work, and come into the next room for refreshments.

This was a welcome interruption to all; everyone felt glad to hide the
uncomfortable feeling that Gussie's act had thrown over them, and merry
groups formed in the dining-room as Dexie passed among them. The
uncomfortable scene in the parlor was put out of sight, if not out of
mind, and no one wondered that Guy Traverse did not make his appearance
amongst them.

As soon as Dexie saw she would not be missed for a few moments, she ran up
to Gussie's room.

"Come down at once, Gussie. You cannot stay away from our guests without
making yourself look worse in their eyes. The sooner you make amends for
your unpardonable act, the better it will be for yourself."

"Oh! Dexie, I was never so ashamed in my life! I never dreamt it was his
letter; I thought it was yours."

"And what business would you have to read out anybody's letter to a company
of people? I am glad to hear that you feel ashamed, for well you may! Come
downstairs at once, unless you want everyone to cut you forever."

Gussie followed her sister into the dining-room, and she set about her
duties as well as she could, but finding that Traverse was not in the room
she soon felt more at ease.

Dexie felt that she must see Mr. Traverse before the rest entered the
parlor. She had been so astonished at his bold claim of ownership that for
a moment she could not understand it, but the truth flashed on her mind
that he had done it to shield her, and she blessed him for it.

Guy looked round as the door opened, and coming forward he took the tray
she carried in her hands and set it on a small table near, saying:

"Is this for both of us, Miss Dexie? Sit here," and he placed a screen to
hide them from the gaze of intruders; then coming over to her side, drew
the letter from his pocket, saying: "Forgive me, Miss Dexie, for claiming
your property; it is yours, is it not?"

"Unfortunately, yes; and you were more than kind to shield me as you did,"
and she put the cause of the trouble in the deepest corner of her pocket.
"I did not know what to do when I heard Gussie reading it aloud."

"I knew at once it was yours by the way you looked; but I thought I would
play the vanquished lover, and crave your pardon for my audacity
afterwards," and he looked intently into Dexie's flushed face.

"Believe me, Mr. Traverse, the writer of that letter is not the silly man
one would expect, judging by his foolish words. In everything else he is
worthy of respect."

"Do you think it foolish for a man to love a woman with such love as he
speaks of in the letter?"

"Yes; when the man knows it is useless, he should try and forget her."

"He should try--hum!--well, it seems one does not always succeed in
forgetting, even with much trying. Miss Dexie, you owe me a favor; tell me
honestly how you stand with this lover from over the sea. Are you engaged
to be married to him, yet give him cause to write in such a strain?"

"No, certainly not; I am aware that this letter has given you the
impression that I have been corresponding with the writer, but it is not
so. This is only the second time I have had a letter from him, though I
believe papa hears from him occasionally; but I have never sent him a
line."

"How does it happen that he writes to you so appealingly? Have you jilted
him, Miss Dexie?" and he looked eagerly into her face, to read her answer.
"Will you not tell me?" he added, as he waited some moments for her reply.

"There is very little to tell, Mr. Traverse. I think the part of the letter
that you heard tells the story well enough," and she gave a quick look into
his face, "but I think I understand what you mean. This is not the one that
Gussie refers to so often."

"Miss Dexie, if I have spared your feelings to-night, spare mine now, and
tell me what I ask: Is there more than one lover across the sea? Do tell me
the truth, Miss Dexie."

His low, earnest tones thrilled her strangely, and she dropped her eyes, as
she replied in a low tone:

"Let me first explain about the writer of the letter. I never gave him
cause to write to me like that, for I have always disliked him. He has
persecuted me shamefully, even so far as to threaten to shoot me if I did
not promise to marry him, and the strongest wish that was ever born in my
heart is that I may never see his face again." The words ended in a
whisper, but so intense were the tones that Guy felt she told the truth,
and he asked: "What sort of a young man is he, if I may ask?"

"If he had not made himself an object of dislike to me, I could give you a
very favorable account of him," she answered, lifting her eyes an instant,
then turning aside as she met his earnest looks. "He is well educated and
very good-looking, if you admire the kind of beauty that goes with olive
skin, eyes like midnight, and hair to correspond. He has a good bank
account also, and would be a good match--for someone else," she added,
laughing softly.

"Did your father favor his suit, that they correspond yet?"

"Oh! yes; and everything was arranged, settlements, and all. Nothing was
lacking--except my consent."

"Then there was never a promise between you? Forgive me, Miss Dexie, if I
seem inquisitive, but I wish very much to know."

"Nothing like a promise! indeed, nothing could be so distasteful as the
thought of such a thing; not even from the first. I never liked him."

"But there is someone else, Miss Dexie. Is there not a promise given to
someone else?" came the eager tones.

"Not exactly a promise, Mr. Traverse; but there is a mutual understanding
that may lead to one. I think you would like my friend, particularly if you
heard him once at the piano," she replied, as her cheeks grew pink.

"Then you are not really engaged, Miss Dexie?"

"Now, Mr. Traverse, I think I have told you enough," she replied, beginning
to feel embarrassed. "Some things are not easy to tell, even though one may
not care if the facts are known."

"But I have not got down to facts yet, Miss Dexie, and I should like to
know the truth. 'For favors received, be truly grateful.' I think it is
only fair to let me know how matters stand with you and this lover over the
sea."

He waited a moment for her answer, then added, in an eager tone:

"Your sister told me several times about your engagement to this young
gentleman that writes to you from England. If it is so, why deny it?"

"There is a promise between us to wait a year," came the low-spoken reply.
"Then, if we are both of the same mind as when we saw each other last, I
expect I shall spend the rest of my days in Halifax; but a year is a long
time, and much may happen before then."

What strange power was there in his looks or words that drew this admission
from her? She regretted the words the moment after she uttered them, but
she did not know that she had removed the barrier that kept Guy from trying
to win her himself.

"Do you think he may learn to care for someone else, or that you--"

"I have never met anyone yet that I like better," and she lifted her eyes
to his as she said this, but she dropped them at once, and a strange,
uneasy feeling possessed her that she could not understand.

"Thank you, Miss Dexie, for your confidence. Now, let the understanding be
mutual. Will you give me the privilege you have so long denied me of being
your friend and protector _pro tem._, as it were? Neither you nor I have
anyone here to claim our society, and I get very tired of my own company; I
would like to have one special lady friend. Will you not hereafter accept
my company without that inward protest which I always feel you have for
me?"

"You are very kind, Mr. Traverse, but I would prefer matters as they are. I
do not mind going about alone in the least."

"Oh! I know that, Miss Independence, but I mind it; so say that I may
occupy the place of the absent friend, to some extent at least. I'll write
to him and demand permission, if you object," and he laughed pleasantly as
he took her hand a moment in his own.

Just then the sound of footsteps warned them that their interview was over,
and Guy rose to his feet and stood by the window as the rest entered the
room.

"Hello, Traverse! we missed you in the supper-room," and Fenerty came over
to his side. "Have you found all your persuasions in vain, Miss Dexie?"
pointing to the untasted repast on the tray.

"Man alive! do you think a man's appetite can survive everything?" said
Traverse, with a frown.

"Forgive me, Traverse! I did not mean to add to your feelings. I don't
wonder you feel cut up," said Fenerty, whispering his apologies.

"Mr. Fenerty, take him out in the dining-room. My presence has prevented
him from partaking of the refreshments I brought him. Try and make him
forget the unpleasantness that has occurred," and Dexie looked up with a
smile at Traverse, as he followed his friend from the room, and then turned
to her other guests.

She was glad to see that Gussie was doing all she could to win her way back
into favor, for she passed from group to group with a pleasant word and a
smile for all. Fingers and needles were soon busy again, and the unfinished
badges were attacked with renewed vigor.

"That was a nasty trick of Miss Gussie's, Traverse," young Fenerty was
saying, as he waited upon his friend in the dining-room, "but I am sure she
never suspected that the letter belonged to you."

"What difference did that make? The act was unpardonable when she knew it
was not her own property. I suppose I will never hear the last of it."

"'Pon honor, Traverse, I hope you do not think any of us are mean enough to
refer to the matter again. But come away to the rest, if you are through;
they are at work again, I believe."

"It is all right, Miss Dexie," nodding to her as she appeared in the door.
"He will soon get over it. Is there any objection to a little carpet dance
to finish the evening? That will make Traverse forget to be melancholy if
anything will," he added, in a low voice.

"Very well; as soon as they finish the badges you can help clear the room."

Dexie cast a backward look at Traverse and saw his amused smile, and it was
hard to control her features when his face assumed such a mournful
expression directly Fenerty addressed him.

Half an hour later, tables and chairs were set aside, and the sound that
came forth from the piano, at Dexie's bidding, set agoing the feet of the
dancers. She had played through several dances when Guy came up to her side
with Ada Chester.

"I have brought someone to take your place, Miss Dexie. Play a waltz for
us, Miss Chester," and Guy took Dexie from her seat.

The couple made the circuit of the room several times before anyone joined
them; it was a pleasure to watch the well-matched pair swaying to the
delightful music.

"We seem to have the floor to ourselves," Dexie said with a smile.

"If they knew the bliss of a perfect waltz, we would be crowded out, Miss
Dexie. I begin to think I never waltzed before; your step is perfect--what,
you are not tired?" as Dexie stopped and led the way back to the piano.

"No, but I will relieve Miss Chester; she is very fond of dancing."

Dexie did not care to confess how much she had enjoyed the little dance,
but she was beginning to think that there was some strange spell in the
voice and manner of her partner that drew her very thoughts from her. She
must get away from his presence, so turned to Miss Chester, saying:

"I can recommend Mr. Traverse as a superb waltzer, Ada, so let me give you
the pleasure of a few turns around the room with him to the same music. Mr.
Traverse, do let Miss Chester know for once what waltzing really is," and
she struck the keys and sent them floating from her side.

The evening's pleasure closed all too quickly, and as the last good-byes
were spoken Guy lingered to whisper:

"I shall call and take you to choir practice in good season, so do not run
away before I come for you. Good-night, Miss Dexie."

The warm clasp of the hand, and the earnest look in his dark grey eyes,
lingered in Dexie's memory until sleep had put all thoughts aside and mixed
the real with the unreal in troubled dreams.




CHAPTER XXXVII.


One bright summer morning, while the dew still glistened like diamonds on
grass blades and flower petals, Dexie and her father were to be seen
walking quickly in the direction of the depot, and, on arriving there, were
surprised to see Mr. Traverse waiting on the platform.

"What, Traverse, are you off this morning too?" said Mr. Sherwood.

"Yes, I have business in Boston; some machinery to order. And you, Miss
Dexie, are you going on a journey as well?"

"Oh, no; I have come to see papa safely on board the train, and to jog his
memory about a few trifles I want him to bring me home from the Hub."

"Ha, ha; a few trifles, indeed! If you expect me to bring back half the
things you have mentioned, you had better come along with me, for I've
forgotten them already," her father laughingly replied.

"I thought that would be the way," Dexie replied with a smile, "but you
will not get off so easily as you think. Here is my book, and the list is
on the last pages, so you have no excuse to forget one of the articles,
papa," and she slipped the little book inside his vest-pocket.

"Glad to have your company, Traverse. How long do you stay?"

"Well, I am not particular to a day or two. I expect to be ready to return
on Friday."

"And this is Monday; well, we can arrange to return together, so, Dexie,
you can make your mind easy. Your old dad will have someone to look after
him both ways."

"That is very nice. Take good care of him, Mr. Traverse," and she gave him
her hand as he said good-bye.

Her father bent his head and kissed her, saying playfully:

"Now, don't run off with the gardener, or do any other dreadful thing while
I am gone, and I will try and get your commissions filled, even to the box
of chocolates."

They stepped on the cars, and with the usual ear-splitting shriek the train
moved away, leaving Dexie on the platform looking after them. The two men
stood at the rear door and waved a farewell, and Dexie returned home, never
thinking that she had seen her father well and strong for the last time.

Mr. Sherwood had not been away from home since they had moved to
Lennoxville, and Dexie planned to have a dainty repast awaiting his return,
and she was in the kitchen when a telegraph messenger appeared at the door.

"A telegram for Mrs. Sherwood, and one for Miss Dexie Sherwood."

Dexie tore hers open, and her heart seemed to stop beating as she read:

"There has been an accident, and your father is hurt, but not
fatally. He cannot be moved at present. Can you come at once?

"GUY TRAVERSE."

Dexie rushed up the stairs, her white face telling of trouble, and as soon
as her mother saw her she asked in alarm:

"What is it, Dexie? What has happened?"

"Dear mamma, come back into the room, and I will tell you. There has been
an accident, and papa is hurt. Oh, mamma, do not scream so! No, he is not
killed; do not say it. Oh, hush! let me open your message. Mine is from Mr.
Traverse, and he says papa is hurt and cannot be moved. Oh, mamma! do not
scream so. You will terrify the children and make yourself ill."

"Oh, he is dead! My husband is killed!" she cried. "Why has this dreadful
calamity come upon me?" and she wrung her hands and wept aloud.

"Oh, mamma, you _must_ stop! Listen: this is what your message says, and it
is signed by a railroad official:

'There has been a collision, and your husband is injured. It is
impossible to move him in his present condition, but everything
possible shall be done for his comfort and relief.'"

"Oh, mamma! let us go to him at once."

"Dexie, do you want to kill me? I could not survive the journey in the
present state of my nerves; and does not the message say that everything
shall be done for him? What could I do more?"

Another peal of the bell, and Dexie flew down to the door, where a
brass-buttoned youth presented himself.

"I am sent to say that there is a train starting for the scene of the
collision in fifteen minutes. If there is anyone here going down, they will
have to hurry."

Dexie rushed back to her mother's side.

"Oh, mamma, I must go to him! Can you go, too? Say quickly, mamma!"

"Oh, I shall die! I shall die!" and Mrs. Sherwood fell back on the sofa in
violent hysterics.

This was answer enough, and Dexie rushed to her own room, calling loudly
for Eliza.

Gussie ran up the stairs at that moment, saying wildly: "Oh, Dexie, is it
true? Is papa hurt?"

"Yes, Gussie, and I am going to him. Run to mamma; I cannot delay a moment.
Here, Eliza," as the frightened domestic appeared, "put those things into
this travelling-bag while I tell you what you are to do. Papa is hurt, and
I have barely time to catch the train. You must run for Mrs. Jarvis as soon
as I am done with you, and tell her to come and stay with mamma; then hurry
along for the doctor--he will give mamma something to quiet her. Tell Mrs.
Jarvis I leave everything in her care till I return, and say that she must
fix up the back parlor all ready for papa, in case he can be brought home.
She will know what to do. Now, I must go. I am sure I can trust you to do
your best, Eliza, till I get back. I do not know when that will be."

She arrived at the depot hot and breathless, but in time to take her place
among the number who, with white, sad faces and tear-dimmed eyes, were on
their way to claim the forms of loved ones, or to comfort and relieve those
whose lives had been spared them. The first tears she shed were those that
fell when she recognized Edith Wolcott and her brother among the
passengers.

"Dexie, you here, and alone!" was Edith's greeting, and the answer was a
flood of relief-giving tears.

"Papa is hurt," she sobbed, as Edith inquired why she was on the train.

"I am so sorry; but perhaps it is not as bad as you fear. We expected Aunt
Eunice would arrive by that train. We do not know that she really was a
passenger, but I could not rest at home till I knew the truth!" Edith
exclaimed. "Mr. Traverse was to have returned to-day," she added. "Did you
hear if he was hurt?"

Dexie did not know, but thought not, as he had sent her the message
concerning her father.

They relapsed into silence, except when someone would voice the sentiments
in the heart of each and say, with a sigh, "How slowly the train moves
along!" Yet they were travelling very rapidly, and in due time they arrived
at the scene of the wreck.

Such a spectacle Dexie had never seen. Cars were piled upon one another in
a confused mass, and she wondered how anyone had escaped alive from the
broken timbers that had formed the cars.

She seemed to know instinctively which way to turn in search of her father,
but she had only made a few steps when she met Mr. Traverse looking for
her.

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Dexie; I am not so bad as I look," he said,
reassuringly, as Dexie started at the sight of his bandaged head and
splintered arm. "I have an ugly scalp wound, and that makes the bandages
necessary, and my broken arm is nothing. Now, be brave," he said, as they
stopped before the door of the house where her father had been taken. "He
has been suffering great pain and looks badly, and he will not be able to
see you unless you are calm. The doctor is with him now. I will go and see
if you can come in."

"Do not keep me waiting, Mr. Traverse. I will be quiet. Indeed, you can
trust me," and she lifted a white face, full of entreaty, to his gaze.

"My brave little girl!" was Guy's inward comment. "It is just as well that
she came alone, for no one else in the family has self-control enough to
bear this."

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