CHAPTER I.
CHRISTMAS.
No. -- East 72d Street, Dec. 28.
Milly and I have just come from a run in the Park, and here I am thisshining white morning scribbling away in my own cosey room.
My very own room--for the most delightful thing has happened; I'mvisiting Mrs. Baker--Aunt Frank I am to call her, though she is reallyMa's cousin--and she has asked me to spend the rest of the winter here.
So I've really left the den. And I didn't deserve it. Why, when Mrs.Baker invited me to dinner on Christmas day, I dreaded the visit. Ihadn't seen her since I came from the West, and I wondered what she'dthink of me, and what she'd write to Mother. If Pa and Ma could see menow, would they say their little Nelly'd "filled out well-favoured?"
What _would_ they say to me?
Why, Christmas morning, when I read the home letters, I felt as if Ihad betrayed my parents' confidence, as if I'd robbed them of theirchild by changing into such a lovely creature. Then I laughed; theywon't mind my getting rid of freckles and a pug nose. And then I cried,almost, and felt so lonely, for even Kitty had gone off with Pros.; andso far away and so happy, and a good deal troubled with it all; forJohn had sent me some roses and a ring, and I knew I should find him atmy Aunt's, eager to see whether I wore them.
John's such a problem. All that day I sat alone in the den, trying tothink, and trying to let down the hem of my waterproof, for it wassnowing and I have only one good dress; and every few minutes I wouldslip on the ring and pull it off, watching the rainbow lights thatflashed and paled in the heart of the stone, and smiling because Johnhad chosen an opal; I wonder if he knows it's the gem of the beautifulwoman.
In the end I let it stay on my hand, of course, for, after all, Isuppose I am betrothed to him.
So it happened that I was almost late for dinner at the Bakers', andquite late when I really got inside the house; for I walked past thedoor two or three times before I could muster up courage to ring thebell. When I finally ran up the steps, my umbrella was powdered white,and snow and water were dripping off my skirts. My heart was beatingfast with dread and expectation; I was sure no one would know me.
"I--I'm too wet for the parlour," I said to the maid who came to let mein; and after a single startled, puzzled look, she went to tell someone of my arrival. There I stood in my shabby mackintosh, looking at ahuge, gilt-framed picture of the Judge, until a plump little robin of awoman, in a black dress with a dash of red at the throat, came trottingout to meet me.
That was Aunt; in spite of my fright and self-consciousness I wanted tolaugh to see her bright eyes look at me in amazement that grew almostto panic. She didn't know me; the servant could not have caught my name.
"Did you--wish to see me?" she finally managed to say.
"I'm Helen Winship--" I faltered. I felt as if I had done somethingvery wrong.
"Nelly!" she cried, clutching my hands and almost lifting herself ontiptoe, as she blinked into my eyes in the uncertain light of the outerhall. "This isn't--can't be--not _our_ Helen Winship--oh, it's somemessage from her--some--"
Her voice died away in incoherent mutterings. She drew me into a bighall like a sitting room behind the small parlour.
"Come into the light, child, whoever you are. I want to look at you,"she said.
An open fire was burning in the grate, and in the room were Milly andEthel and white-haired Miss Marcia and a tall, blonde young man.
All rose to their feet, then stopped. There was an awkward pause, theanswering thrill of tense amazement shot from mind to mind likelightning. They stood as if frozen, gazing. The room was for a momentso still that I could hear my own quick breathing and the hammering ofmy heart. I was grateful for some far shout upon the street thatdrowned the noise.
"But--you--but--I thought--" Milly began in a half-hushed, awe-struckwhisper; she never finished the sentence, but continued to gaze at mewith big, round eyes, her lips parted, her breath quick and tremulous.
I was transported with joy and fright; I almost wished I might sinkinto the floor, but just then down the stair came the Judge with Johnbehind him, and little Joy perched on his shoulder. I think the otherswere as grateful as I for the interruption.
"Put me down! Put me down!" screamed Joy as she saw me sprinkled withsleet. "Mamma, ith that Mithith Thanta Clauth?"
At the welcome laugh that helped to break the ice she ran with a flirtof her short skirts to hide her head against her father's knee.
"Helen!" repeated Mrs. Baker, only half recovering from herstupefaction, "this isn't--why, it can't be you!"
"I--oh, I'm afraid I'm late," I stammered.
Miss Marcia began to unbutton my raincoat, and her kindness somewhatrelieved my embarrassment, though I don't know how I managed to respondto the hubbub of greetings, especially when Mr. Hynes, the stranger,was presented.
He had been looking at me more intently than he knew, with dark bluebrilliant eyes, and he flushed as he touched my hand, until I was gladto take refuge with Joy, who hovered about, eying me as if she stillsuspected some ruse on the part of Santa Claus.
"Joy, you know Cousin Nelly?" I said; and at sound of my voice, theyall looked again at each other and then at me.
"Why, I can't believe my eyes, though Bake here said you'd altered.Altered!" twittered Aunt Frank. She turned indignantly upon the Judge,who wisely attempted no defense. "I didn't dream--Bake, here, never cantell a story straight. Have you--what is it? Nelly, dear, it's twoyears since I've seen you; of course you've--grown!"
But no amazement could long curb her hospitable instincts. Herincoherence vanished as she grasped at a practical consideration.
"But let Milly take you up stairs and get your things off," she saidwith an air as of one who solves problems.
"Are you truly Cothin Nelly?" Joy lisped. "All wight; come thee mytwee."
Though she couldn't recognise me as the cousin of a few weeks earlier,the child was eager to claim me as a new friend. So I escaped with herand Milly to the nursery, where I stayed as long as I dared, letting mycheeks cool.
"The twee ith mine and Mamma'th," said Joy; "we're the only oneth youngenough to have Christhmath twees, Papa thayth."
"Hoh, guess I'm younger'n Mamma, ain't I?" scoffed my other littlecousin who had been sent to inquire into our delay. He is perhaps adozen years old, is called "Boy" officially, and Timothy, Jr., in thefamily records, and--like Joy--wasn't in the least afraid of me, afterfive minutes' acquaintance.
Boy led me down to the others, but dinner was nearly over before I feltat ease. I'm not used to having at my back a statuesque servant--thoughthis one was not too statuesque to be surprised by my appearance almostout of decorum. And I couldn't help knowing that every one wanted tolook at me all the time, which was delicious, but embarrassing. Iblushed and gave stupid answers when addressed, and even feared that Imight show myself at fault in the etiquette of a city table. It wasstrange to have forks in so many cases where I've always used spoons.And, though of course I knew what the finger bowls were, I wasn't quitesure how to use them.
No one was more puzzled by my appearance than Uncle Timothy himself. Ashe looked at me--and this he did through most of the meal--certain longgray hairs in his eyebrows seemed to wave up and down, as I had oftennoticed with the frightened curiosity of a child, like the questioningantennae of an insect.
"And what is the school work now?" he asked when the dessert came. "Thelast time I had the very real pleasure of seeing you, it was--perhapsanimalculae?"
"The cell," I replied, relieved at the introduction of a topic that Icould talk about, "and the cell wall. Protoplasmic movements, you know,and unicellular plants and animals. I'd been making sketches that dayof the common amoeba of standing water."
"I am not familiar with the--ah--with the amoeba; but doubtless itshabits are interesting. And when do the school days end? A young ladylooks forward with pleasure, I fancy, to release from--"
"Is the amoeba a--some horrid bug, I suppose?" interrupted Aunt Frank;"and you
--er--do things to it in that laboratory? How can you? The verythought of such a place! It makes me shiver!"
"Oh, but you should see it, so clean and bright; the laboratory'ssimply beautiful!"
"But this is your first winter in the city, and you ought to beenjoying concerts and theatres, meeting people, seeing things."
"Oh, I only keep such hours as I elect, being a post graduate; and I'vebeen to several theatres," I said; "Kitty and I get seats in the topgallery."
"The--the top gallery?"
"At matinees," I hastily explained, "and not--not lately."
And then I felt more confused than ever, for Mr. Hynes was watching me.John was looking at me, too, with that great light in his face that hadbeen there ever since my arrival, when he first saw the opal gleamingon my finger; and I--oh, how could I have hinted that I don't dare gowhere so many people might look at me? But it's the truth. And thoughthe truth may be inconvenient, it's wonderfully sweet!
After dinner we passed into the big drawing room behind the hall. Joydid some clumsy little dances in her short white frock--she is reallytoo chubby to caper nimbly--and Ethel and Milly played and sang neitherwell nor ill.
I think they were more afraid of me than I had been of the servants atdinner. They are not very pretty, with their light, wavy hair and paleflower faces, though I'm afraid I set my standard too high now--nowthat I know what is possible.
I went to the piano myself afterwards and played. Played! It wasterrible! Never would I have believed that I could make such a mess ofit. I didn't sing until they began trying carols. I didn't mean to doso then, but I chimed in before I thought, when they sang:--
He set a star up in the sky Full broad and bright and fair.
"That song was taken from the Ormulum," said the Judge; "a poem of thethirteenth century--"
"Nelly! Was that you?" cried Aunt Frank, interrupting.
The music of the new, fresh, vibrant voice had thrilled them all--allexcept the unconscious Judge--and there they sat, spellbound. But asthey shook off the witchery, there was all at once a babble of voices,and before I quite knew what had happened, I was at the piano again,singing "The King in Thule:"
There was a king in Thule True even to the grave To whom his mistress, dying, A golden goblet gave.
Perhaps it wasn't very appropriate to Christmas, but Cadge had drilledme upon it. In the middle of the first stanza I happened to glance up,and noticed that Mr. Hynes was again looking at me with an absorbed,indrawing gaze, colouring with amazed pleasure. It woke in me a flutterof consternation and delight, for he has the sensitive face of amusician; but my presence of mind was gone, and for one horribleinstant I thought I was going to break down, and just sat there,gasping and blushing. My heart sank and my voice dwindled to aquavering, unfamiliar whisper. I couldn't remember the words; but thenI seized hold of my courage and sang and sang and sang, better than Ihad ever done before.
I didn't look up again until I had finished; then somehow I got awayfrom the piano, and shyly slipped into a chair near Miss Baker. Ofcourse there was a clamour that I should sing again, but I couldn't.The flaming of my cheeks made me ashamed.
Perhaps some time I shall learn the city way of not seeming to carevery much about anything.
Aunt must have had it at her tongue's end all the evening to invite meto come to her; and when she was bidding me good-night she could waitno longer.
"You're living right on Union Square?" she said; "in the same buildingwith--with--"
"A milliner, a dentist, a school for theatrical dancing," I enumerated,laughing happily. I knew that it was I myself, and not my mode of life,that bewildered her.
"But--is it--_nice_?"
"Better than a boarding-house. Two or three other girls lodge there,the housekeeper is obliging, and the experience--well, at least it'senlightening."
"I wish you'd come here. Why don't you?"
"Oh, could I?" I cried with sudden frankness. "You can't think how gladI'd be! The studio was awfully nice at first, and I've made the best ofit, but I know Ma--Mother and Father would be pleased. If it wouldn'tbe too much trouble--"
And so easily it was all arranged. Of course after she had seen me,heard me, felt the charm of me--of Her--Aunt Frank couldn't leave Herin the studio!
I'd have been glad to avoid the journey back to Union Square with John;for the evening, with all its perplexities, had been paradise, and Idreaded to have him bring me back to earth with words of love. I oughtto be more than usually tender towards John now, when he has just losthis mother; but when the Bakers' door had closed behind us, and westood together under the crispy starlight--for it had cleared andturned cold during the evening--I talked feverishly of things thatneither of us cared about, and kept it up all the way home.
John scarcely seemed to listen to my chatter. He was as if under aspell, and his dark, strong face glowed with the magic of it. As weapproached the Square, he looked down at me, and slipped my hand fromhis arm into the clasp of his warm fingers. Through my glove he feltthe ring, and gave the hand a little, almost timid pressure.
"Am I doing right? Ought I to wear it?" I cried. "Won't you help methink, just as if you didn't--didn't care? This isn't like last summer.We are different; I am very different. You must have seen to-night,that I am not at all the same girl. I've told you that I can't becertain; I am dazed."
"I shall remember everything--all you told me when I came, and now," hesaid. "But you are doing right--darling!"
He held my hands when we parted and looked into my eyes, and I saw thathis own were shining. His love seemed too deep for any outburst ofpassion, or else he feared to alarm me; and yet he seemed so sure.
I wish--I wish--oh, I don't know what I wish; I ought not to be boundto any one; but I suppose I love John.
Bacillus of Beauty: A Romance of To-day Page 13
