April Hopes

by William Dean Howells

  XXXIII:

  When she entered Mrs. Mavering's room Alice first saw the pictures, thebric-a-brac, the flowers, the dazzle of lights, and then the invalidpropped among her pillows, and vividly expectant of her. She seemed alleager eyes to the girl, aware next of the strong resemblance to Dan inher features, and of the careful toilet the sick woman had made for her.To youth all forms of suffering are abhorrent, and Alice had to hidea repugnance at sight of this spectre of what had once been a prettywoman. Through the egotism with which so many years of flatteringsubjection in her little world had armed her, Mrs. Mavering probably didnot feel the girl's shrinking, or, if she did, took it for the naturalembarrassment which she would feel. She had satisfied herself that shewas looking her best, and that her cap and the lace jacket she wore werevery becoming, and softened her worst points; the hangings of herbed and the richly embroidered crimson silk coverlet were part ofthe coquetry of her costume, from which habit had taken all sense ofghastliness; she was proud of them, and she was not aware of the scentof drugs that insisted through the odour of the flowers.

  She lifted herself on her elbow as Dan approached with Alice, and thegirl felt as if an intense light had been thrown upon her from head tofoot in the moment of searching scrutiny that followed. The invalid'sset look broke into a smile, and she put out her hand, neither hot norcold, but of a dry neutral, spiritual temperature, and pulled Alice downand kissed her.

  "Why, child, your hand's like ice!" she exclaimed without preamble. "Weused to say that came from a warm heart."

  "I guess it comes from a cold grapery in this case, mother," said Dan,with his laugh. "I've just been running Alice through it. And perhaps alittle excitement--"

  "Excitement?" echoed his mother. "Cold grapery, I dare say, and verysilly of you, Dan; but there's no occasion for excitement, as if we werestrangers. Sit down in that chair, my dear. And, Dan, you go roundto the other side of the bed; I want Alice all to myself. I saw yourphotograph a week ago, and I've thought about you for ages since, andwondered whether you would approve of your old friend."

  "Oh yes," whispered the girl, suppressing a tremor; and Dan's eyes weresuffused with grateful tears at his mother's graciousness.

  Alice's reticence seemed to please the invalid. "I hope you'll like allyour old friends here; you've begun with the worst among us, but perhapsyou like him the best because he is the worst; I do."

  "You may believe just half of that, Alice," cried Dan.

  "Then believe the best half, or the half you like best," said Mrs.Mavering. "There must be something good in him if you like him. Havethey welcomed you home, my dear?"

  "We've all made a stagger at it," said Dan, while Alice was falteringover the words which were so slow to come.

  "Don't try to answer my formal stupidities. You are welcome, and that'senough, and more than enough of speeches. Did you have a comfortablejourney up?"

  "Oh, very."

  "Was it cold?"

  "Not at all. The cars were very hot."

  "Have you had any snow yet at Boston?"

  "No, none at all yet."

  "Now I feel that we're talking sense. I hope you found everything inyour room? I can't look after things as I would like, and so I inquire."

  "There's everything," said Alice. "We're very comfortable."

  "I'm very glad. I had Dan look, he's my housekeeper; he understands mebetter than my girls; he's like me, more. That's what makes us so fondof each other; it's a kind of personal vanity. But he has his goodpoints, Dan has. He's very amiable, and I was too, at his age--and tillI came here. But I'm not going to tell you of his good points; I daresay you've found them out. I'll tell you about his bad ones. He saysyou're very serious. Are you?" She pressed the girl's hand, which shehad kept in hers, and regarded her keenly.

  Alice dropped her eyes at the odd question. "I don't know," shefaltered. "Sometimes."

  "Well, that's good. Dan's frivolous."

  "Oh, sometimes--only sometimes!" he interposed.

  "He's frivolous, and he's very light-minded; but he's none the worse forthat."

  "Oh, thank you," said Dan; and Alice, still puzzled, laughedprovisionally.

  "No; I want you to understand that. He's light-hearted too, and that'sa great thing in this world. If you're serious you'll be apt to beheavyhearted, and then you'll find Dan of use. And I hope he'll knowhow, to turn your seriousness to account too, he needs something to keephim down--to keep him from blowing away. Yes, it's very well for peopleto be opposites. Only they must understand each other, If they do that,then they get along. Light-heartedness or heavy-heartedness comes to thesame thing if they know how to use it for each other. You see, I'vegot to be a great philosopher lying here; nobody dares contradict meor interrupt me when I'm constructing my theories, and so I get themperfect."

  "I wish I could hear them all," said Alice, with sincerity that madeMrs. Mavering laugh as light-heartedly as Dan himself, and that seemedto suggest the nest thing to her.

  "You can for the asking, almost any time. Are you a very truthfulperson, my dear? Don't take the trouble to deny it if you are," sheadded, at Alice's stare. "You see, I'm not at all conventional andyou needn't be. Come! tell the truth for once, at any rate. Are youhabitually truthful?"

  "Yes, I think I am," said Alice, still staring.

  "Dan's not," said his mother quietly.

  "Oh, see here, now, mother! Don't give me away!"

  "He'll tell the truth in extremity, of course, and he'll tell it if it'spleasant, always; but if you don't expect much more of him you won't bedisappointed; and you can make him of great use."

  "You see where I got it, anyway, Alice," said Dan, laughing across thebed at her.

  "Yes, you got it from me: I own it. A great part of my life was made upof making life pleasant to others by fibbing. I stopped it when I camehere."

  "Oh, not altogether, mother!" urged her son. "You mustn't be too hard onyourself."

  She ignored his interruption: "You'll find Dan a great convenience withthat agreeable habit of his. You can get him to make all your verbalexcuses for you (he'll, do it beautifully), and dictate all the thousandand one little lying notes you'll have to write; he won't mind it in theleast, and it will save you a great wear-and-tear of conscience."

  "Go on, mother, go on," said Dan, with delighted eyes, that asked ofAlice if it were not all perfectly charming.

  "And you can come in with your habitual truthfulness where Dan wouldn'tknow what to do, poor fellow. You'll have the moral courage to comeright to the point when he would like to shillyshally, and you can befrank while he's trying to think how to make y-e-s spell no."

  "Any other little compliments, mother?" suggested Dan.

  "No," said Mrs. Mavering; "that's all. I thought I'd better have it offmy mind; I knew you'd never get it off yours, and Alice had betterknow the worst. It is the worst, my dear, and if I talked of him tilldoomsday I couldn't say any more harm of him. I needn't tell you howsweet he is; you know that, I'm sure; but you can't know yet how gentleand forbearing he is, how patient, how full of kindness to every livingsoul, how unselfish, how--"

  She lost her voice. "Oh, come now, mother," Dan protested huskily.

  Alice did not say anything; she bent over, without repugnance, andgathered the shadowy shape into her strong young arms, and kissed thewasted face whose unearthly coolness was like the leaf of a floweragainst her lips. "He never gave me a moment's trouble," said themother, "and I'm sure he'll make you happy. How kind of you not to beafraid of me--"

  "Afraid!" cried the girl, with passionate solemnity. "I shall never feelsafe away from you!"

  The door opened upon the sound of voices, and the others came in.

  Mrs. Pasmer did not wait for an introduction, but with an affectationof impulse which she felt Mrs. Mavering would penetrate and respect, shewent up to the bed and presented herself. Dan's mother smiled hospitablyupon her, and they had some playful words about their children. Mrs.Pasmer neatly conveyed the regrets of her husband
, who had hoped up tothe last moment that the heavy cold he had taken would let him come withher; and the invalid made her guest sit down on the right hand of herbed, which seemed to be the place of honour, while her husband tookDan's place on the left, and admired his wife's skill in fence. At theend of her encounter with Mrs. Pasmer she called out with her strongvoice, "Why don't you get your banjo, Molly, and play something?"

  "A banjo? Oh, do!" cried Mrs. Pasmer. "It's so picturesque andinteresting! I heard that young ladies had taken it up, and I shouldso like to hear it!" She had turned to Mrs. Mavering again, and she nowbeamed winningly upon her.

  Alice regarded the girl with a puzzled frown as she brought her banjo infrom another room and sat down with it. She relaxed the severity of herstare a little as Molly played one wild air after another, singing someof them with an evidence of training in her naive effectiveness. Therewere some Mexican songs which she had learned in a late visit to theircountry, and some Creole melodies caught up in a winter's sojourn toLouisiana. The elder sister accompanied her on the piano, not withthe hard, resolute proficiency which one might have expected of EuniceMavering, but with a sympathy which was perhaps the expression of hershare of the family kindliness.

  "Your children seem to have been everywhere," said Mrs. Pasmer, with asigh of flattering envy. "Oh, you're not going to stop!" she pleaded,turning from Mrs. Mavering to Molly.

  "I think Dan had better do the rheumatic uncle now," said Eunice, fromthe piano.

  "Oh yes! the rheumatic uncle--do," said Mrs. Pasmer. "We know therheumatic uncle," she added, with a glance at Alice. Dan looked at hertoo, as if doubtful of her approval; and then he told in character aYankee story which he had worked up from the talk of his friend theforeman. It made them all laugh.

  Mrs. Pasmer was the gayest; she let herself go, and throughout theevening she flattered right and left, and said, in her good-night toMrs. Mavering, that she had never imagined so delightful a time. "OMrs. Mavering, I don't wonder your children love their home. It's arevelation."