“I’m sure the law of averages takes care of people like that,” replied Miss Martha dryly. “People who feel they have been punished unjustly should console themselves by applying the sentence to past misdeeds which have been committed but not found out.”
“Or to future misdeeds, eh?” said Johnny cheerfully, “except o’ course in cases of capital punishment.”
And that cheerful note ended our table conversation for the evening. We said our grace and moved in a body to the parlor for songs, which had become a custom now, and evening prayers.
If I can recall my state of mind at that time, I’m sure I was happy again—perhaps nearly as much so as before. Johnny was walking beside me as we left the dining room and he took my hand and held me back from the others. No one noticed the action but old Mattie who had begun to clear the table and she frowned but said nothing. Whether she disapproved of me or of Johnny or of the two of us in combination I am still not entirely sure, although it may have been a little of all three possibilities.
Anyway I was not at all concerned with Mattie’s opinions on that evening. I couldn’t have cared less what anyone in the house thought of me as long as I was sure of Johnny’s affection. I was in no way apprehensive—in fact you might have even thought me to be growing tolerant if you had seen me smiling and continuing an idle conversation with Miss Harriet even as I noticed Johnny move away from us to speak privately with Alice at the far end of the parlor. At that moment there seemed to me no reason why Johnny ought not to be permitted to speak privately to anyone he liked, and I told myself it was shameful of me to even think of becoming jealous over it.
All the same I was perhaps a little jealous and maybe I showed it because when the singing began, Johnny returned to my side and squeezed my arm reassuringly. He was still using his cane as he crossed the room, I remember, but limping rather less than usual. For Miss Martha’s benefit, I wondered peevishly? I thought then and afterwards that his swaggering at that time and his activities a few moments later with me might have been entirely to show Miss Martha that he was no longer dependent on her. However when he stood near me, although I didn’t look directly at him, I could see out of the corner of my eye how drawn and tired-looking he was. There were beads of perspiration on his lip which must have been caused by pain, since the room wasn’t very warm that evening.
Well we sang a few of the old standbys—the good old Bonnie Blue Flag and so forth—and then Johnny sang an Irish song about a poor emigrant boy who is longing for fireside and mother, and then to take the company out of its sad mood, Miss Harriet began playing a gay polka on the harpsichord and almost immediately Johnny took hold of me and began dancing me around the room.
“Be careful of your leg,” I told him. “You must be careful.”
“Don’t fret, dear Edwina,” he laughed. “A good dance is the best thing for a stiff leg and you’re the best possible partner.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “You haven’t tried anyone else here.”
“There’s no need,” he answered. “None of them could possibly be as graceful and as light on their feet as you.”
It was another nice compliment from Johnny although he didn’t say it loud enough for anyone else to hear it over the music. Everyone was watching us, including Miss Martha, who didn’t seem particularly annoyed, although she did call out a word of warning to Johnny as I had. I knew I should have stopped him instantly because there was a great danger of the wound reopening on his leg, but I didn’t stop him. I was enjoying myself too much. All the girls, I knew, were unbearably envious, but that didn’t bother me either.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I said to Johnny, a bit out of breath now. “I have never danced with a man before—except my father. I haven’t danced very much at all really, except here in class and all our dancing classes have been cancelled while you’ve been recovering.”
“Well you must resume them again immediately,” said my confident partner, “and I’ll teach you everything I know.” He was still smiling steadily, although he was much more out of breath now than I was. He was very pale too, and I knew his leg must be hurting him dreadfully.
“How will it be possible for you to teach us anything?” I inquired, trying to slow him down a bit. “I thought you were going away from us very shortly.”
“Oh, that’s right—it slipped my mind,” he said. “Well there’s one very important lesson that must be taught. I must teach you how much I love you, so that you’ll never be able to forget me.”
Those were Johnny’s exact words and I have cause to remember them distinctly because it was nearly the last of the nice things he said to me. Anyway at that moment Miss Harriet saw that he was tiring and slowed the music to a waltz. He was as good at the waltz as he was at the polka. I told him so.
“Now I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “I’ve never danced a waltz like this with anyone before. All I know about it is what I saw a few times through the window of the big house at home. O’ course I knew from the start I could go at it as well as any of them fellas in the silk coats and red uniforms. Oh I’ve danced jigs and reels and the like at fairs and so forth, but this is the first time I’ve ever waltzed on a polished floor with a beautiful young lady like yourself in my arms.”
We had moved to the far end of the parlor somewhat apart from the group around the harpsichord, but now Alice and Emily began to dance together and then Amelia and Marie moved awkwardly out on the floor. I knew it would not be long before one of them, Alice probably, decided to cut in on us and so I did my best to steer Johnny away from them. By that time he was perfectly willing to let me lead him. The back of his coat had become soaked with perspiration but he was still smiling grimly as he hopped rather than glided on his good leg.
“I think we’d better stop,” I suggested.
“Not yet, not yet,” he insisted.
“I believe some of the other girls would like to try a few steps with you—Alice Simms, for instance.”
“I’ve noticed,” said he. “Do you suppose I should be gentlemanly about it?”
“It’s up to you,” I told him. “It’s none of my business.”
“Oh, but it is, my dear one. I’ve made commitments to you, haven’t I? We have an understanding, don’t we?”
“If you say so, Johnny.”
“Indeed I do say so. Oh this is the life for me. I’d rather dance than almost anything else I can think of . . . and I’d rather dance with you than with anyone else in this house . . . or the entire world for that matter. I’d like to spend my entire life . . . dancing . . . and making love to you, Edwina.” He was so out of breath by now it was an effort for him to speak.
“You’d better begin to consider your words, Corporal McBurney,” I answered. “I might just hold you to them.”
He grinned and winked at me and squeezed my arm again but made no further comment. He was so exhausted that he was almost leaning on me. As I had expected Alice and Emily moved over to us then.
“May I share your partner?” Alice asked sweetly.
“You may,” I said, “if you can carry him.”
Miss Martha noticed his condition and halted the music. I helped him to a chair and he sank on it gratefully with the bad leg extended. He was half fainting from the pain but he was still grinning. He was so proud of his accomplishment. He was like a little boy sitting there—a little boy who has beaten all his playmates in a footrace or a game of toss.
“I knew it,” he said happily. “I was sure I’d be as good as new again.”
Miss Martha came over to have a look at his leg but he waved her away.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s still in your good repair, ma’am. It’s only a bit sore and stiff now but that will mend itself by morning. And I’m thinking I’ll be leaving you then. If you’d be so kind, ma’am, maybe you’d take that bit o’ thread out of the leg in the morning a
nd then I’ll be on my way.”
“This is a change of heart, isn’t it?” asked Miss Martha. “I understood you would rest here a while longer.”
“If I need to rest I can do it by the side of the road. A man who can dance should be able to walk, isn’t that right ma’am?”
“I suppose so, but you haven’t danced for much more than five minutes and I don’t think you’ll be able to walk for much longer than that.”
“Are you suggesting that I stay, ma’am?” he wanted to know.
“I’m suggesting that you do as you please,” said Miss Martha angrily and she moved to the end of the room to begin the prayers.
Well, as you might imagine, a terrible gloom descended immediately upon the place. Miss Martha was angry, Miss Harriet and the girls looked as though they had just said farewell to their only friend and Johnny himself was no longer very cheerful now that he had announced his decision. I guess I was the only person in the house who was not completely upset by the news of his coming departure. I’m excluding Mattie, of course. I think Mattie was not displeased by the announcement.
My own feeling was one of relief. No matter how it may have seemed later, that was exactly how I felt at that time. I suppose it’s true that a normal person doesn’t want to be separated from someone to whom they are attached—and I did feel a deep and strong attachment to Johnny McBurney—but since I knew he had to leave us anyway sooner or later, I was just as satisfied to have him get on with it. It seemed better for both of us if Johnny could pick up his own life again as soon as possible somewhere away from here. If he truly felt about me as I believed now that he did there was no point in his wasting any more time here. The sooner he was gone from here, the sooner he could send for me and we could begin our lives together.
The evening prayers went more quickly than usual with none of the customary requests for private intercessions of the Lord that we usually have from some of the students. Miss Martha asked very briefly for the Lord’s protection on the school and the brave members of our army and then, almost as an after-thought, she added that it would also be a favor to the students and faculty of Farnsworth if He would keep an eye on all travelers, North and South.
Now, encouraged, Miss Harriet very graciously asked for Heaven’s blessing on Corporal McBurney, whom, as she put it, we had all grown to know and cherish as a friend during his few short weeks with us. She asked the Lord to allow Corporal McBurney to lead a long and useful life and to let him prosper in whatever good things he attempted, and finally she requested that the Lord see to it that Corporal McBurney never forgot us because we certainly would never forget him.
This naturally brought tears to the eyes of every member of the assembly—including Miss Martha and Johnny and, I suppose, myself. Miss Martha said that she, too, wished Corporal McBurney well and that he must not feel that he was under any obligation to us because his presence in the school had been of great value to us all. “Corporal McBurney’s stay with us,” said Miss Martha, “has taught us all a very important lesson—that the enemy as individuals are not necessarily wicked men.”
That, too, I remember exactly. Those were Miss Martha’s very words and she followed them with the customary call for silent meditation which always ended our evening prayers. A few moments later we were dismissed for the night.
I did not dawdle around Johnny as did the other girls, but took a lighted candle from Mattie and went directly upstairs. My plans were to arise very early and come downstairs for a private visit with him before he left the school. I was very sure that none of the others, with the possible exception of Amelia, would be able to awaken before dawn to bid anyone farewell, even if it was their own sweetheart.
And I was content that night to receive a smile and another squeeze of the arm from Johnny and a sweet something or other whispered in my ear—“my only love” or “my only darling” or something of that sort. He had walked to the parlor door with me and the words and gestures were accomplished very quickly and, I remembered later, were not observed by the others. At any rate I told him that I would see him in the morning and he smiled most lovingly and gratefully and humbly and I went upstairs to my room—most loving and most grateful and once again, and for the last time, most happy myself.
My room is at the back of this house near to the stairs which lead up to the garret. I formerly shared a room with Emily Stevenson but that didn’t work out too well and since I was certain that Emily wanted to be rid of me and there was plenty of vacant space in the house anyway, I asked Miss Martha to assign me a room of my own.
Of course, on that night my head was filled with nothing but the nicest thoughts about Emily and everyone else in the house. I prepared for bed in my usual manner, rubbing myself all over with cold water—not just my face and hands, as do the others in this house—those of whom are not neglectful of even that most elementary bit of sanitation. I have always been something of a fanatic about personal cleanliness. At the house in Richmond I used to bathe and scrub myself several times a day which caused my father to remark one time that if I was not careful before long I would wash my skin away.
Well that never happened but at least I have always been certain that I am at least outwardly clean. And while on this subject I might mention that his neatness was one of the things that most attracted me to Corporal McBurney. Up until that time—except for the first day when Amelia brought him in all muddy from the woods—I had never seen him when he didn’t look freshly washed and combed. As for his clothes, Miss Martha had also provided him with a change of linen from the stock which her brother and father left in the house and Johnny undertook to keep these items as clean as possible. As soon as he was able you could usually find him once a day in the wash house scrubbing his stockings or shirts or undergarments. Mattie would have been willing to take care of these chores, I’m sure, as she does for the rest of us, but then I am seldom willing to let Mattie launder my personal things and I guess Johnny felt the same. Of course I must repeat that when I speak of his neatness of appearance, I am referring to him as he was prior to this particular night.
And so after bathing, I brushed my teeth and hair and put on my Parisian lace night dress which was another parting present from my father. If you ask me how he came by it, I cannot tell you, although I am sure he didn’t purchase it especially for me. It might have been a gift for someone who didn’t appreciate it, or perhaps it was just something that was left behind one time in his room. I didn’t want it and I don’t know why I ever brought it here to Farnsworth, except possibly to have something else with which to torment myself. Anyway I had never worn that nightdress before that night and I never wore it after.
Why did I wear it on that night? And why did I brush my hair two hundred strokes instead of the customary fifty, which made it shine quite dazzlingly although it didn’t make it any lighter. And why did I rub myself in several places with my French perfume—another one of my father’s leftovers—and why did I leave my door ajar slightly?
Because I thought he might come to me. I knew it was very wrong of me to think of such things and even worse, to desire them, but that is how I felt and I don’t apologize for it. I don’t suppose I would ever have asked him to come but with all my heart I wanted him to come.
And so I didn’t sleep. I lay propped up in bed with my candle near me on the stand and my book of the poems of William Blake on my lap and I listened. I listened to the sounds of the rest of the house retiring—Emily doing her breathing exercises at her window, which are supposed to be good for one’s complexion, Amelia and Marie conversing and giggling, Miss Harriet whining and Miss Martha reprimanding her for it—and then the sounds of the night outside—the owls in the old tobacco barn, the nightingales in the laurels out back, the locusts in the hedges and the frogs in the woods, the wind passing softly through the eaves and the oak tree rubbing the roof edge above me—and then once more the sounds inside—the parlor clock ticking,
Miss Harriet weeping, several beds creaking, a window rattling—and then Johnny coming.
He was in his stockings but I could hear him all the same from the bottom of the stairs. There is one loose tread on that stairs and he stepped on that and confirmed his presence and then waited, evidently frightened, for a moment. And I waited, trembling, in fear that the pounding of my heart would be heard. Then after I had counted to more than a hundred, he came on again, more slowly this time but still steadily, up the stairs and down the hall toward my room.
I sank down in the bed and closed my eyes and held my breath and bit my lip to stop it quivering and heard him no more because I didn’t need to hear, because I knew he was there and that in a moment he would pull the covers away from me and bend down and kiss me and say, as he had said before, “My darling Edwina. . . .”
But he didn’t. I would have sworn I had heard him breathing, but it must have been the blood rushing in my own head because when I opened my eyes he wasn’t there. Had he entered and been afraid and gone out again? Had he only looked in at the door and thought me asleep and gone back downstairs? Or was he still waiting out there in the darkness of the hall—waiting for me perhaps to summon him?
“Johnny. . . .” I whispered very softly, and paused. There wasn’t any answer. I held my breath again and listened. There was no sound of anyone breathing in the hall. I was almost certain he was no longer out there, or at least not anywhere near my door.
After a moment, however, there was another sound—the creaking of a tread on the stairs which leads to the garret. He was going upstairs and not down. There is nothing up there but some old furniture and our trunks and other things in storage—and Alice Simm’s bedroom.
I blew out my candle and pulled the covers over my head and held my ears against any more sounds and did my best to make my mind a complete blank and tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. I don’t know how long I tried, but I couldn’t. Then I began telling myself that she had invited him upstairs on some pretext or other—maybe to show him something or maybe just to say goodbye to him—and when he discovered that she had nothing of any consequence to say to him he would come right back down again. Maybe, I thought, she had even seen Johnny in the hall outside. Maybe she had been coming down from the third floor herself and she saw him near my door and then she made him go back upstairs with her by threatening him—beckoning him silently, very likely, with her finger, and pretending that if he didn’t come she would call out and awaken Miss Martha.
The Beguiled Page 25
