Naturally I was somewhat disturbed by what Miss Harriet had said, but I thought that since it was not at all like her, it simply must have been due to one glass too many of the wine. I think if a person is generally kind and gentle and soft-spoken in all of her dealings with those around her, as Miss Harriet certainly is, then it is not at all fair to judge that person by words or actions which are the results of unusual circumstances. It is true that there came a time when I might have applied that principle to an action of Johnny McBurney’s, and I failed to do it. The explanation for this, I suppose, lies in the fact that that particular action of Johnny’s affected me deeply and the affairs of the Farnsworth family don’t and never have. My final thought about Miss Harriet’s remarks on that afternoon, I remember, was that actually she was no worse than I. I myself had often said hateful things about people in the privacy of the woods and it wasn’t Miss Harriet’s fault if the parlor on that afternoon was not as private as she thought.
After that I was alone with Johnny for a while. I heard Miss Martha and Mattie conversing in the kitchen garden as they gathered some herbs and vegetables for dinner. I heard Emily and Marie come down the stairs shouting insults at each other every step of the way. It seemed that Emily was accusing Marie of stealing some soap—which was an unusual thing for Marie to covet, unless it might have been scented soap. Then Miss Martha came into the hall and told them to be quiet and not disturb Corporal McBurney, and to insure this, ordered them both to the kitchen to help Mattie with the dinner.
I remember reflecting then that in most instances of missing soap at this school, Alice Simms is generally the first person to be accused. This is because Alice is extraordinary proud of her milky complexion and although she doesn’t seem to make any great attempt to keep the rest of her person particularly clean, she does spend a good deal of time bathing her face. My own feeling is that dirt is as much a part of nature as the sky and air and, although I will admit that certain occasions are best served by neatness, the whole notion of continous washing can become a dreadful nuisance, especially at a modern school like this one. I might add here an opinion of my roommate. Marie says it seems to her that one of the few blessings this war has brought is the universal shortage of soap, which proves to her that there is always some good to be found in the very worst situations.
Just then one of the very people in question walked into the room—Alice Simms. She halted just inside the door and looked around very carefully—to see if Johnny had any other visitors, I suppose. Like Miss Harriet before her, she didn’t observe me and so she came over to the settee.
She was wearing one of the several brightly colored dresses which it is supposed were originally the property of her mother and were donated to Alice as fashions changed or her mother’s position improved. The dress she wore on this day was her pink taffeta with the black silk ribbon in the bodice. Unfortunately it is much too large a garment for Alice who is rather small of stature, though she is undeniably well developed. The dress could easily be shortened, of course, but Alice is not much of a seamstress, and also she says she prefers to grow into all of these costumes rather than risk destroying them by alteration.
“Johnny,” she said now, hitching up her skirt, “are you feeling better? Don’t wake up on my account if you’re asleep, Johnny, because you need all the rest you can get. You’ll be up and around again in no time if you just eat plenty of food and get your proper rest. Well I just came in to tell you that I don’t hate you any more, Johnny, but if you’re really asleep I can tell it to you another time. I’m trying to say I’m sorry about what happened to you—Edwina pushing you down the stairs and everything. Of course I was very angry when you acted so concerned about her and rushed out to the hall to explain to her, as though she meant more to you than I did. But then later I started to worry about you . . . to wonder if maybe you had been seriously hurt . . . and, Johnny, I didn’t hardly sleep a wink all night over it. And this morning I was even more worried for fear you might have died down here alone without my ever having a chance to even talk with you again. Because you know I really do think a lot of you, Johnny. You are honestly the most exciting boy I’ve ever met and I like you such a great deal . . . and sometimes I even think I love you. Now wrap that up and put it under your pillow if it pleases you, Sir Johnny. Oh you just make me feel so glorious when you hold me and kiss me, dear sweet sweet Johnny. You’re a wicked boy but so nice all the same. . . . I’ve looked forward to every day since you came. Now can’t you see how miserable I would be if you were to up and die on me now, Johnny, just when we were beginning to get on so well together.”
Well there was more of that kind of talk but that’s the general substance of it. I didn’t put much stock in it, of course. Any getting on between Johnny and Alice must have been mostly in her imagination, because for one thing they had had very little opportunity to be by themselves—which is the first step in “getting on” together, or so I’m told. With the exception of the previous night I was pretty certain they had never been alone for any lengthy period. You see I was keeping a pretty close watch on Johnny at that time because I was fearful that someone like Alice would try to take advantage of him. And sure enough that’s what happened.
Now I didn’t know exactly what took place in Alice’s room on the previous night and I didn’t want to know. Whatever went on I was sure Alice was entirely responsible for it. However as it turned out she didn’t go into any details about the past but instead began to speculate about how she and Johnny might get on together in the future. “The fact that you’ve lost one leg shouldn’t hinder you romantically, it seems to me,” she said. “I’m sure a one legged man or even a no legged man can enjoy himself in that way and probably father just as many children, if that is his intention, as any other member of the male race. And probably he could give just as much pleasure to the young lady, too, despite his amputated condition. I’ve been thinking this whole thing over very carefully, Johnny, and I’m almost convinced that your missing leg won’t make any difference to me, as far as romance is concerned—once I get used to it. Oh it might disturb me a trifle at first, but I’m sure I’ll get over any little squeamishness like that in no time at all.
“In fact I’ll be honest with you, Johnny,” she continued. “It was the thought of how the loss of your leg might change you as a man which upset me more than anything else earlier this afternoon in the dining room. I believe that was the main reason that I fainted—if you happened to notice me do that—but of course you couldn’t have seen it because you were unconscious then. Now I probably should also explain why I was in the dining room in the first place, Johnny, during the time your leg was being cut off—just in case that seems rather cold-blooded of me. It never occurred to me that anyone would think that, but Marie Deveraux informed me a while ago that such was exactly her opinion. Marie said it seemed extremely hard-hearted of me to take such an interest in your amputation within twenty-four hours of having entertained you in my room. Well of course as we both know, the entertainment had hardly begun when that savage Edwina burst in on us, but it did strike me that Marie might have a point.
“And so,” Alice went on, “after thinking about it I have decided that perhaps I should explain to you what my feelings were as I watched Miss Martha cut off your leg—apart from worrying about your possible loss of manhood, which I’ve already mentioned. I’ll tell you the honest truth, Johnny. The primary reason I went to the dining room and watched that horrible event was because I wanted to ease Miss Martha’s suspicions about the two of us. I’m sure Miss Martha and probably Miss Harriet, too, were wondering if you and I had been having an amour as Marie calls it, and it dawned on me that my presence right beside the operating table was the best possible way of setting their minds at rest. Because naturally, Johnny, if those in charge here are going to be continually watching us, we are not going to be able to have much of a romance for ourselves, are we, dear?
“Therefore,”
said Miss Kindhearted Alice, “I determined to stand there and observe the whole bloody business if it made me sick to my stomach for a solid week. I resolved to act as though I hardly even knew you, Johnny. I thought to myself, if that won’t fool Miss Martha and Miss Harriet, nothing will. Of course I will admit that I didn’t expect it to be quite as horrible as it turned out to be. I don’t believe I’d care to go through that experience again, Johnny. Once was enough for me, thank you. However I do think I succeeded in my plan for misguiding our dear teachers. I’ll bet if some stranger were to walk in this school right now and inquire whether Miss Alicia Simms had any strong feeling of attachment toward Mister Johnny McBurney, I’m sure our teachers would answer emphatically in the negative. And we both know that nothing could be further from the truth, don’t we, dear? At least I know it, and I surely to goodness hope you do too. Oh you and I are going to have some wonderfully romantic times together, Johnny, just as soon as it’s ever possible for you. Of course I realize that you are in a very weakened condition now and it may take a while for you to get your strength back. You just take your time about it, dear, and let your poor stump heal properly, and then when you feel you’re strong enough for romance again, you just beckon to me and I’ll come to you. Meanwhile I may try to keep up a little of the same sort of pretense with our teachers—just to make it easier for us later, Johnny. So don’t be disappointed if I seem to ignore you during the next few days, or if I say things that might seem to be unfeeling about you in the presence of others. You and I both know how I really feel about you, don’t we, and that’s the only important thing.”
Alice bent over him now and kissed him lightly on the forehead. “I have to go to dinner now, Johnny. I suppose you haven’t heard a word I said, have you? But that’s all right. I’ll watch for a good chance tomorrow or the next day, and then maybe I’ll come in and tell you the whole thing again.” She giggled a bit at this. “If I can remember it all, I mean.”
Then she kissed him again and backed off, waving a shy little goodbye to him, which was even sillier than her remarks. I suppose there was some possibility that a few of the things she said might have sunk into his head, since there was no way of telling just how deeply unconscious he was, but his eyes had definitely remained closed all the while Alice was with him, so there was no chance at all that he could have seen her waving her farewell.
Well the ways of some girls are strange and if Alice Simms is not the best example of this then perhaps Edwina Morrow may fill the bill. Alice was scarcely out of the parlor and across the hall when Edwina came in. She must have been waiting at the top of the stairs—or perhaps she was watching from the library—until Alice’s exit and then she hurried into the parlor and over to Johnny’s side, almost as though she had decided if she didn’t do it quickly she wouldn’t do it at all.
And there she stood for a moment, breathing heavily and biting her lip as she stared at him in a way which I don’t think could be described as friendly. But then again it is hard to be exact about Edwina’s mood on any given occasion, since her every day manner is usually not a very warm one. Well she waited for so long without saying anything that I thought she never would begin. It was my impression however that her feelings about Johnny changed while she stood there. I think maybe she might have entered assuming that Johnny and Alice had been having a tender conversation in here, but then when she saw him and realized how sick he was, her anger lessened and she even began to feel a little pity for him.
Because at last she whispered very softly, “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I never wanted anything like this to happen . . . although I don’t think I regret what I did. I’d probably do it again, if the situation were repeated . . . not that it ever will be. I can never feel about you again as I did before last night. But that’s not important now . . . to you or me. What is important now is your will to get better and I think you have it, Johnny. I think you have a great determination in you for doing almost anything you set your mind to . . . a great strength for hanging on when other people might let go and die. You lived and almost recovered from your first wound, and I think you’re capable of doing it again . . . if you want to do it. And I’ll guess you’ll want to do it, if only to show us that you can’t be defeated by a lot of women and girls.
“I do want you to get better, Johnny,” Edwina went on. “I want you to recover and go away from here forever . . . and I’ll admit my reasons for desiring that aren’t entirely unselfish. Maybe I want you out of sight in the hope that will eventually put you out of my mind, too, and then I can begin to recover from you myself. I’m sure I don’t have feelings of love for you anymore, you understand, Johnny . . . but I am disturbed by you and I suppose I will continue to be disturbed as long as you are here.
“And therefore I’m willing to help you leave here. You can go ahead with the same plans you said you had in mind for both of us. If you want to start from Richmond, I’ll write to my father and ask him to do everything he can to send you wherever in the world you want to go . . . or to help you find a position somewhere, if that’s what you’d like instead. I’ll tell him that I would regard this as a very special favor to me, and that if he will do so, I will promise to stay away from him myself . . . and never ask him for anything again. I will also say that I am requesting this favor for a special friend of mine . . . someone who has been very close to me. . . .”
Edwina paused then and turned away and covered her mouth with her hand. After a moment she got control of herself and was able to look at him again.
“That’s all I had to tell you, Johnny,” she said, her voice quivering a little. “I thought maybe you could hear me. If you didn’t, it’s all right too. I’ll write my father anyway and ask him to help you.”
Then she moved away from him and started slowly for the door. Now while she was saying her last words I happened to notice a slight movement of Johnny’s lips. His mouth had curled just a tiny bit at the edges into what might have been a smile.
And then he opened his eyes and said softly but distinctly, “Edwina. . . .”
She came back hesitantly. “How are you, Johnny?” she asked.
“Grand . . . considering the circumstances.”
“Did I wake you?”
“If you did, I thank you. I’d’ve hated to have you here without my knowing it.”
“Did you hear what I said before?”
“No, what was it?”
“I’ll tell you another time.”
“My apologies for what happened, Edwina . . . the last time I saw you. When was that anyway?”
“It was last night.”
“Only last night? It seems years ago. Well anyway, I’m sorry I hurt you, Edwina. It was never my intention to do so. I wouldn’t hurt you . . . for all the Alices in the world . . .”
“Johnny, while you were asleep I said I was sorry too . . . for what happened to your leg. I’ll say more now. I’m sorry that I followed you last night, Johnny . . . and that I struck you. But believe me, Johnny, I never meant for you to fall.”
“I know that, sweetheart,” he said. “I had no doubts about that. It was an accident, that’s all.”
“Johnny . . . I was glad though . . . when you fell.”
“That’s all right too. I deserved what I got, Edwina. . . .”
“You didn’t deserve to be so badly injured as to bring about . . . what happened today. I was never glad about that, Johnny . . . and now I’m sorry about all of it. What I did was unjustifiable. You probably had a perfectly good reason for going to see Alice. You wanted to say goodbye to her probably.”
“Maybe that’s so.”
“And you were exhausted, probably, from the climb up the stairs, and you were just resting for a moment on her bed.”
“Yes . . . that’s it.”
“Oh, Johnny, I’m sorry I ever thought anything else. Is the pain bad, Johnny?”
�
��Bad enough.”
“It will get better after a while.”
“Maybe some of it will.”
“Why did you go to her room, Johnny?”
“You said it before. I wanted to tell her goodbye.”
“You could’ve told her downstairs.”
“I guess I must’ve forgot it.”
“All right, Johnny, we’ll leave it that way.”
“You’re not interested in the way I said goodbye to her? You don’t want to hear how I went about it?”
“Please, Johnny. . . .”
“I kissed her . . . and squeezed her . . . and all sorts o’ things like that.”
“Please . . . please. . . .”
“You saw it anyway. You knew I was doin more than restin.”
“My God, Johnny . . . I beg you, please. . . .”
“Don’t beg me, dearie. You’ll never get anything outa me by beggin.”
“You pig . . . you filthy pig . . . I hope you die!”
Johnny chuckled. “Ah now, you don’t mean that, sweetheart.”
“I never meant anything more,” Edwina said. She was clenching her hands so tightly she must have torn her palms with her nails.
“I was teasin you, Edwina,” Johnny told, grinning weakly. “Teasin you and testin you I was. You were right the first time. You didn’t see anything because there was nothin to see. Now if I had said somethin like that to Alice, she would’ve laughed, wouldn’t she? Ain’t I right about that? She would’ve split her pudgy little sides with glee, wouldn’t she, all the while she was tellin me what a shockin nasty fella I was. But you didn’t laugh, Edwina. I knew you wouldn’t laugh . . . because you’re a lady. . . . Don’t you want to know why I had my pants off, Edwina?”
The Beguiled Page 35
