Macaria

by Augusta J. Evans

  CHAPTER XV

  AT HOME AGAIN

  Four years had wrought material changes in the town of W----; new streetshad been opened, new buildings erected, new forms trod the side-walks, newfaces looked out of shop-windows, and flashing equipages, and new shafts ofgranite and marble stood in the cemetery to tell of many who had beengathered to their forefathers. If important revolutions had been effectedin her early home, not less decided and apparent was the change which hadtaken place in the heiress of Huntingdon Hill; and having been eyed,questioned, scrutinized by the best families, and laid in the social scale,it was found a difficult matter to determine her weight as accurately asseemed desirable. In common parlance, "her education was finished,"--shewas regularly and unmistakably "out." Having lost her aunt two years beforeher return, the duties of hostess devolved upon her, and she dispensed thehospitalities of her home with an easy, though stately elegance, surprisingin one so inexperienced.

  It chanced that Dr. Arnold was absent for some weeks after her arrival, andno sooner had he returned than he sought his quondam protege. Enteringunannounced, he paused suddenly as he caught sight of her standing beforethe fire, with Paragon at her feet. She lifted her head and came to meethim, holding out both hands, with a warm, bright smile.

  "Oh, Dr. Arnold! I am so glad to see you once more. It was neither friendlynor hospitable to go off just as I came home, after long years of absence.I am very glad to see you."

  He held her hands and gazed at her like one in a dream of mingled pain andpleasure, and when he spoke his voice was unsteady.

  "You cannot possibly be as glad to see me as I am to have you back. But Ican't realize that this is, indeed, you, my pet--the Irene I parted withrather more than four years ago. Oh, child! what a marvellous, what aglorious beauty you have grown to be!"

  "Take care; you will spoil her, Arnold. Don't you know, you old cynic, thatwomen can't stand such flattery as yours?" laughed Mr. Huntingdon.

  "I am glad you like me, Doctor; I am glad you think I have improved; andsince you think so, I am obliged to you for expressing your opinion of meso kindly. I wish I could return your compliments, but my conscience vetoesany such proceeding. You look jaded--overworked. What is the reason thatyou have grown so grey and haggard? We will enter into a compact to renewthe old life; you shall treat me exactly as you used to do, and I shallcome to you as formerly, and interrupt labours that seem too heavy. Sitdown and talk to me. I want to hear your voice; it is pleasant to my ears,makes music in my heart, calls up the bygone. You have adopted a stick inmy absence; I don't like the innovation; it hurts me to think that you needit. I must take care of you, I see, and persuade you to relinquish itentirely."

  "Arnold, I verily believe she was more anxious to see you than everybodyelse in W---- except old Nellie, her nurse."

  She did not contradict him, and the three sat conversing for more than anhour; then other visitors came in, and she withdrew to the parlour. Thedoctor had examined her closely all the while; had noted every word,action, expression; and a troubled, abstracted look came into his face whenshe left them.

  "Huntingdon, what is it? What is it?"

  "What is what? I don't understand you."

  "What has so changed that child? I want to know what ails her?"

  "Nothing, that I know of. You know that she was always rather singular."

  "Yes, but it was a different sort of singularity. She is too still, andwhite, and cold, and stately. I told you it was a wretched piece ofbusiness to send a nature like hers, so different from everybody else's,off among utter strangers; to shut up that queer, free untamed thing in aboarding-school for four years, with hundreds of miles between her and thefew things she loved. She required very peculiar and skilful treatment,and, instead, you put her off where she petrified! I knew it would neveranswer, and I told you so. You wanted to break her obstinacy, did you? Shecomes back marble. I tell you now I know her better than you do, though youare her father, and you may as well give up at once that chronichallucination of 'ruling, conquering her.' She is like steel--cold, firm,brittle; she will break; snap asunder; but bend!--never! never! Huntingdon,I love that child; I have a right to love her; she has been very dear to mefrom her babyhood, and it would go hard with me to know that any sorrowdarkened her life. Don't allow your old plans and views to influence younow. Let Irene be happy in her own way. Did you ever see acontented-looking eagle in a gilt cage? Did you ever know a leopardess keptin a paddock, and taught to forget her native jungles?"

  Mr. Huntingdon moved uneasily, pondering the unpalatable advice.

  "You certainly don't mean to say that she has inherited----?" He crushedback the words; could he crush the apprehension, too?

  "I mean to say that, if she were my child, I would be guided by her,instead of striving to cut her character to fit the totally differentpattern of my own."

  He put on his hat, thrust his hands into his pockets, stood for someseconds frowning so heavily that the shaggy eyebrows met and partiallyconcealed the cavernous eyes, then nodded to the master of the house, andsought his buggy. From that day Irene was conscious of a keener and moreconstant scrutiny on her father's part--a ceaseless _surveillance_, silent,but rigid--that soon grew intolerable. No matter how she employed her time,or whither she went, he seemed thoroughly cognizant of the details of herlife; and where she least expected interruption or dictation, his hand,firm though gentle, pointed the way, and his voice calmly but inflexiblydirected. Her affection had been in no degree alienated by their longseparation, and, through its sway, she submitted for a time; but Huntingdonblood ill-brooked restraint, and, ere long, hers became feverish,necessitating release. As in all tyrannical natures, his exactions grewupon her compliance. She was allowed no margin for the exercise of judgmentor inclination; her associates were selected, thrust upon her; heroccupations decided without reference to her wishes. From the heartless,frivolous routine marked out, she shrank in disgust; and, painful as wasthe alternative, she prepared for the clash which soon became inevitable.

  From verbal differences she habitually abstained; opinions which she knewto be disagreeable to him she carefully avoided giving expression to in hispresence; and while always studiously thoughtful of his comfort, shepreserved a respectful deportment, allowing herself no hasty or defiantwords. Fond of pomp and ceremony, and imbued with certain aristocraticnotions, which an ample fortune had always permitted him to indulge, Mr.Huntingdon entertained company in princely style, and whenever anopportunity offered. His dinners, suppers, and card-parties were known farand wide, and Huntingdon Hall became proverbial for hospitality throughoutthe State. Strangers were feted, and it was a rare occurrence for fatherand daughter to dine quietly together. Fortunately for Irene, the servantswere admirably trained; and though this round of company imposed a weightof responsibilities oppressive to one so inexperienced, she applied herselfdiligently to domestic economy, and soon became familiarized with itsdetails. Her father had been very anxious to provide her with a skilfulhousekeeper, to relieve her of the care and tedious minutiae of suchmatters; but she refused to accept one, avowing her belief that it was theimperative duty of every woman to superintend and inspect the management ofher domestic affairs. Consequently, from the first week of her return, shemade it a rule to spend an hour after breakfast in her dining-room pantry,determining and arranging the details of the day.

  The situation of the house commanded an extensive and beautiful prospect,and the ancient trees that overshadowed it imparted a venerable andimposing aspect. The building was of brick, overcast to represent granite,and along three sides ran a wide gallery, supported by lofty circularpillars, crowned with unusually heavy capitals. The main body consisted oftwo stories, with a hall in the centre, and three rooms on either side;while two long single-storied wings stretched out right and left, one abilliard-room, the other a greenhouse.

  A broad easy flight of white marble steps led up to the richly-carved frontdoor, with its massive silver knocker bearing the name of Huntingdon
inold-fashioned Italian characters; and in the arched niches, on either sideof this door, stood two statues, brought from Europe by Mr. Huntingdon'sfather, and supposed to represent certain Roman penates.

  The grounds in front, embracing several acres, were enclosed by a brickwall, and at the foot of the hill, at the entrance of the long avenue ofelms, stood a tall, arched iron gate. A smoothly-shaven terrace of Bermudagrass ran round the house, and the broad carriage-way swept up to a moundopposite the door, surmounted by the bronze figure of a crouching dog. Suchwas Irene's home--stately and elegant--kept so thoroughly repaired that, inits cheerfulness, its age was forgotten.

  The society of W---- was considered remarkably fine. There was quite anaggregation of wealth and refinement; gentlemen, whose plantations weresituated in adjacent counties, resided here, with their families; some, whospent their winters on the seaboard, resorted here for the summer; its barwas said to possess more talent than any other in the State; its schoolsclaimed to be unsurpassed; it boasted of a concert-hall, a lyceum, ahandsome court-house, a commodious well-built jail, and half a dozen asfine churches as any country town could desire. I would fain avoid theterm, if possible, but no synonym exists--W---- was, indisputably, an"aristocratic" place.

  Thus, after more than four years' absence, the summers of which had beenspent in travel among the beautiful mountain scenery of the North, theyoung heiress returned to the home of her childhood.

  For several months after her return she patiently, hopefully, faithfullystudied the dispositions of the members of various families with whom sheforesaw that she would be thrown, by her father's wishes, into intimaterelationship, and satisfied herself that, among all these, there was notone, save Dr. Arnold, whose counsel, assistance, or sympathy she felt anyinclination to claim. In fine, W---- was not in any respect peculiar, or,as a community, specially afflicted with heartlessness, frivolity,brainlessness, or mammonism; the average was fair, reputable, in allrespects. But, incontrovertibly, the girl who came to spend her life amongthese people was totally dissimilar in criteria of action, thought, andfeeling. To the stereotyped conventional standard of fashionable life shehad never yielded allegiance; and now stood a social free-thinker. For aseason she allowed herself to be whirled on by the current of dinners,parties, and picnics; but soon her sedate, contemplative temperamentrevolted from the irksome round, and gradually she outlined and pursued adifferent course, giving to her gay companions just what courtesy required,no more.

  Hugh had prolonged his stay in Europe beyond the period originallydesignated, and, instead of arriving in time to accompany his uncle andcousin home, he did not sail for some months after their return. At length,however, letters were received announcing his presence in New York, andfixing the day when his relatives might expect him.