On dangerous ground

Front matter

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Part I

1 You have no sin, nor any conception of what it is ; and therefore you are so terribly severe ! As a saint you are not amiss ; but as a human creature, and a woman among earthly men and women, you need a sin to soften you/

Hawthorne.

Chapter I

It had been the desire of Agatha’s life to have a Platonic friendship. She did not enjoy flirting ; all lovers she declared were bores,? and now she was fast verging towards the sisterhood of spinsters without having formed that friendship in which she felt herself capable of sustaining her part ; for all her friends had a proclivity for turning into lovers.

More than once had she fancied that she had found her ideal, but each time scarcely had she given herself up to the full enjoyment of the companionship before the friendship straightway flamed up into love and left her nothing but ashes. Not that Agatha had any objections to marrying, provided she was found by the one whom Heaven had ordained for her; but until the gods should send to her her mate, she ardently longed for the intense devoted friendship of a man.

Agatha was no beauty, but there was so much soul in her face, that many found her wonderfully attractive. She had a clear dead -white skin; soft brown eyes; a straight, well cut nose, and full lips, as red as barberries. When she loosened the bands of her abundant hair it fell in dark waves to her knees, rippling over her white forehead in the short tresses that we see in portraits painted nearly a century ago. She had a weakness for copying portions of the dress as in these same portraits,

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and often wore soft frills around her throat and wrists, which gave her a quaint look, although they were excessively becoming.

In her manners she was perfectly natural, as free from vanity as affectation, and so independent and given to a free expression of her thoughts and feelings, that neither her relatives nor her teachers had ever been able to school her into the reticence which they considered desirable. Her original ideas, and her outspoken utterance of them, had occasioned her father a great deal ot anxiety concerning her when she was but a child in years (her mother had died when she was an infant); but as she developed into womanhood she had glided into those grooves of society, the restraints of which she had rebelled against when younger, and accepted as a fact that such grooves were necessary to its maintenance in order and propriety.

Charming as was their city home in New York, their seaside villa at Newport possessed for Agatha many more attractions. At this villa were gathered one autumn month of a year which shall be nameless, as blithe a party as its" walls had ever held. So merrily had passed the days in excursions of various kinds, in riding and driving and boating, in games on the lawn, when the weather was fine ; and within doors, when the skies were lowering, or the rain came down. So charmingly had the evenings flown on wings of song or dance, and the endless flow of conversation with which the young are gifted, that when the last evening came, the group was anything but a merry one that, clad in warm wrappings of various kinds, gathered on the broad piazza to enjoy the unusual mildness of the moonlight night. They were

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all under the shadow of the near separation ; and when a walk upon the cliffs was proposed, it was a relief to Agatha to see them stroll off together, falling into pairs as accident or inclination led ; while she, pleading some excuse for not accompanying them, sat down when they were out of sight in a corner of the piazza which commanded a view of the ocean, entirely unconscious that she was not quite alone, until the sound of voices reached her from another corner, just where the shadows fell the darkest She had scarcely made this discovery before another figure appeared in sight, that of a man, who, avoiding the winding gravelled walk, struck a path across the lawn, and greeting her with some familiarity as he approached, drew up another chair, and sat down beside her. He was their nearest neighbour, Colonel Potten ; a widower whom Agatha had once liked, but fancying that his frequent visits of late were made with matrimonial speculations, she felt her heart hardening towards him. As he sat now, caressing his raven black moustache with a hand as soft and white as a woman’s, not so deeply engrossed in conversation as to prevent a furtive glance cast down now and then upon its whiteness, Agatha felt sure that in his own estimation he was irresistible and resolved that she would show him he was not.

* I hear that your guests all leave in the morning/ he said.

‘Yes, they all leave in the morning/ she answered coldly.

‘ You will be quite lonely I fear — hope, I should say, as then I could claim the neighbourly privilege of dropping in often to look after you.’ Her face was in shadow,

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or the cold look in her eyes would have deterred him from taking the sentimental attitude he now assumed, leaning towards her, as he continued,

4 I hope my visits are not unwelcome.’

‘ Other guests arrive the day after,’ said Agatha, not noticing his last remark.

Colonel Potten twisted his moustache, as he had a trick of doing whenever he was annoyed. 4 Is it possible ? I knew that you were to remain until Christmas, but I thought it was too late in the season to tempt anyone from the town to the country. Why, November will soon be here.’

4 Possibly, our guests are coming to us more for the sake of companionship, than from any advantages which the country possesses,’ she replied.

4 1 daresay,’ answered the Colonel, chewing at his moustache.

4 Although, for my part,’ continued Agatha, 4 1 think November the most charming month of autumn, with its delicious Indian summer days, and its cheery evenings, when one enjoys so thoroughly the blazing warmth of the open fires through the house.’

4 1 daresay,’ answered the Colonel, utterly unconscious that he was echoing his last words.

At this moment, Agatha’s attention became riveted upon the two in the dark corner ; not dark enough, however, to prevent her from perceiving how intense was the flirtation that was being carried on. More than once, Agatha had seen the man press passionately to his lips the long yellow curls of hair that streamed down from under one side of the burnous which enveloped the head of his companion.

4 What an idiot!’ she exclaimed.

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‘Which is the idiot ?’ asked Colonel Potten, glancing at the two in the corner.

‘ Any man who kisses a woman’s hair in these days of chignons is an idiot/ answered Agatha. ‘ Do you know who they are ?’

‘ I think the man is your cousin : Frank Mortimer.’

‘ Is Frank so silly? Of course he is making love to the little Hunter. They are well matched for a flirtation.’

‘ You have not your usual discernment to-night, Miss Lee. Those blonde tresses are from no chignon, but the veritable property of Mrs. Arthur Grey.’

‘ Good heavens ! I had no idea — really, I thought better of both of them,’ ejaculated Agatha, confused and agitated She wished that she had not drawn Colonel Potten’s attention to them. ‘ How could I dream the woman was married ?’ she asked herself,

‘Your shocked expression is quite refreshing. I had no idea that you were so behind the times/ said Colonel Potten.

Agatha replied in her most freezing tones,

‘ I hope I shall always be behind the times, if being shocked by my cousin’s impertinence and want of principle in making love to a married woman is an index of it. But of course Mrs. Grey is not to blame for his nonsense. You observe that her face is turned in such a way that she cannot see what an idiot he is making of himself.’

‘ Oh ! of course not/ answered the Colonel, but the low, derisive laugh that followed, denied the assent which he had given ; and Agatha annoyed by it, would have annihilated him if a look could have done it.

‘ Men are always unjust to women/ she said, ‘ always

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ready to put the very worst construction upon what they see/

‘ As much so, do you think, as women are upon each other?’ he asked, with provoking coolness. ‘I think women are far more unjust to each other than men are to them ; and I believe my opinion coincides with that of the world in general. Was it Abraham or Sarah who sent the forlorn Hagar into the desert with her child ?’

* Your parallel cases, Colonel Potten, remind me of the lines,

If the man who turnips cries Cries not when his father dies,

Tis a proof that he would rather Have a turnip than his father.

* I am glad to learn that I remind you of anything so amusing. I would prefer to be thought of by you in such connection even, than not to be thought of at all ; * replied Colonel Potten gallantly, but he pulled at his moustache, nevertheless, as though he did not quite relish the association.

Without deigning any remark to this last observation, Agatha returned to her first proposition.

* Yes, from Adam down to the present time men are all unjust to women. It is their rightful inheritance I daresay, with original sin, “ total depravity,” and all the other birthrights ccllhmon to human nature. One thing is encouraging however, for, notwithstanding all they have had to contend with, the man of to-day is a most decided improvement upon Adam. Do you not agree with me ?’

( Not having had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with that estimable individual, and biblical history being so very concise in his biography, I am not able to

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form an opinion/ answered the Colonel, in his most com placent tones. * Still, if you refer to any quality of the mind, such as bravery, for instance, I do think that with the Eve of my choice to cherish and protect, I would have made a stand in Paradise with her if I had died for it/

The Colonel had fought with some distinction in the war between the North and the South.

‘ Who would have dreamed of finding a second Lucifer in our brave Colonel ! * exclaimed Agatha.

‘ I think it would be enough to make a demon of any man to turn him adrift homeless with such a divine piece of flesh and blood as Dore represents Eve to have been, and all for a miserable apple.’

* But the fruit was forbidden.’

* Which made it all the more desirable.’

‘ So long as one is left free to choose, one ought* not to shirk the penalty if one makes choice of the road of self-gratification instead of self-denial,’ answered Agatha. ‘ It is only the child who cries for the cake and the penny, too,’ she continued. * For my part I never could get up any indignation against either Adam or Eve for tasting the fruit, although it was forbidden, but I was always incensed at his outrageous want of manliness in saying, “ The woman tempted me, and I did eat.” Why, there is not a schoolboy in his teens at the present day who would have told of his chum, to say nothing if the apple had been given him by a little girl and that is why I say that the men of the present day are an improvement upon Adam.’

‘ Very true/ laughed the Colonel. ‘ I wonder I never saw it in that light before. It rather shakes my faith in Adam. A man who would be so dishonourable as to lO

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tell would have been none too good to have invented the story. Perhaps, after all, Eve never made the suggestion to him.’

‘ That has always been my theory/ replied Agatha.

At this instant she made an exclamation, which caused Colonel Potten to ask her if she had seen a ghost. She did indeed look startled, sitting as if struck dumb, her eyes fixed upon the two in the comer. Her sudden ejaculation seemed also to have startled them, for they arose and approached her.

* May I inquire what has been the subject of this animated discussion ? ’ said Mortimer.

‘ Is that a fair question ? ’ asked Colonel Potten.

4 The question is fair enough. It remains to be seen whether the answer will be equally fair.’

4 We have not been confining ourselves to one topic/ replied the Colonel. The last matter under discussion was whether “ the man who kisses and tells ” is worthy of credence. Your cousin thinks he would be none too good to make up the story if he told it. Now, in return, allow me to ask what topic has so absorbed you in your secluded corner ? ’

Agatha longed to add, ‘ that you have been so regardless of the moonlight, of us, and of appearances ; * but she said nothing. Mrs. Grey shook back her long blonde curls, and answered with an air of bewitching artlessness,

4 1 am afraid you would not believe us if we told you. Come, Mr. Mortimer, I feel like taking a stroll on the cliffs in the moonlight. What do you say ? ’

Mr. Mortimer seemed to have lost his usual readiness of repartee, for he only answered, ‘With pleasure’ as they walked off together.

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‘The woman is always the readier in an emergency,’ said Colonel Potten, ‘ but when your cousin is ten years older he will wear his honours more unblushingly.’

‘ His disgraces, you mean,’ answered Agatha, throwing into her voice the scorn that she felt. ‘ Did you ever see such a woman ? but I am quite forgetting that she is my father’s guest.’

‘Did I ever see such a woman ? Scores of them. You must be quite a child, Miss Lee. This is what the German School of Novels is developing in society. Either under the name of “ Platonic friendship,” “affinities,” or “free-love” — it is all the same — this is what it ends in.’

‘ No ! no ! ’ exclaimed Agatha, ‘ do not abuse Platonic friendship to me. I am a firm believer in it. Men always confuse it with love. Mrs. Grey’s conduct does not shake my firm faith in Platonic friendship any more than a piece of spurious coin palmed off upon me would take away my faith in the existence of sterling gold. She is always talking of her friendships, I know ; but such a woman is incapable of true friendship. As for “ free-love,” that is too revolting to find advocates among people of any refinement ; but you must believe in affinities, Colonel Potten.’ Agatha had spoken with earnestness, and in equally earnest tones Colonel Potten replied,

‘ I believe in the devil.’

‘ What do you mean ? What connection can there be between the two that you should so associate them ? ’ asked Agatha.

‘ Why simply this, that there is more or less of the devil in all affinities.’

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* Shall I never meet a man who thinks as I do ?’ said Agatha vehemently.

‘ Would to God I were that one,’ replied the Colonel, and now there was deep feeling in his tones. 4 More than ever do I wish that I were worthy of the hope which has been kindled in my heart. I will not venture to disclose to you what that hope is; but promise 'me that there may be a “ peradventure ” in the future that you will at least listen to it.’

All Agatha’s coolness and self-possession returned to her. In the most matter-of-fact way she answered,

‘ If you propose to make love to me, Colonel Potten, it is much better for me to tell you at once that we can never sustain any nearer relations than those that exist between us now. The man whom I marry must be one towards whom I feel my soul going out unmistakeably the first time I meet him. I am a believer in love at first sight.’

Colonel Potten could hardly repress the contemptuous exclamation that rose to his lips, but finally answered,

‘ I thought you had more common sense, Miss Lee.’

Agatha, regardless of this remark, continued,

‘ Such a man I have never met ; and should I never meet such a one, I shall never marry. It is much better to remain single than to wed one in whom does not exist both congeniality of mind and affinity of temperament.’

Colonel Potten arose to take his departure, saying as he drew on the glove of his left hand,

‘ You have my best wishes for your future happiness, Miss Lee ; but I think you are in error. Some of the happiest marriages I have known have been between persons who have either contrasts in temperament, or in mind ; and with me it is a question whether it is not an essential of a perfect marriage that this contrast should exist. Good-night. Will you not give me your hand in parting ? It may be long before we meet again.’

Agatha suffered her fingers to receive the soft pressure of Colonel Potten’s ungloved hand, but she could not repress the chill of aversion that she felt at the contact. He knew that it was so ; and, as he walked away, he renounced that hope of one day winning her which had been inspired in his heart by his full appreciation of her worth.

Agatha had been from childhood peculiarly susceptible to that animal magnetic influence which caused her to betray in her face, in the tones of her voice even, either pleasure or indifference in her intercourse with others. She could not fraternise with those who were not congenial ; she could not devote herself too assiduously to those who were. Her face was as a book, unfortunately, whereon all could read the emotions with which they inspired her ; and too frequently the thoughts of her heart found utterance in words. Talleyrand’s maxim had no meaning for her — * Language was given to us to disguise our thoughts/

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Chapter II

When Colonel Potten crossed the lawn, and passed the turnstile that led into his own property, he had fully resolved to leave Newport at once ; but ‘man proposes, and God disposes/ For more than an hour he walked the winding gravelled path that bordered the cliffs which commanded a view not only of the bay, whose gently heaving surface broke with caressing murmurs against the rocks below, but of the mighty ocean beyond, where, near the horizon, scattered white sails were dimly seen, gliding like ghosts into eternity.

‘ I was mad ! I was a fool ! ’ he said to himself, ‘ to have risked all so soon, without one word, one look of encouragement even ! What possessed me ? At my age one expects to be done with that boyish romance of heart which sends a man rushing headlong into a declaration before he has made sure of success.’ He glanced up at the moon, which in turn looked down upon him, as he fancied in mockery, from the masses of vaporous clouds that were careering across her path. ‘You have the face of a devil to-night,’ he continued, looking straight at the peering moon as if he were looking into the face of a human being. ‘Yes, the face of a devil, I say. It was your cursed witchery that led me into this folly ! — this lunacy of making love to a woman who scorns love and laughs at lovers ! Before God, I hope her turn may come ! ’

Still pacing the path that bordered his grounds, but now with his head bent downwards, he communed in silence with his thoughts, arranging and rearranging his plans for departure. At last he quickened his steps and walked across the sward to his house ; entering his library by a window that opened out on the piazza, where his favourite dog kept guard, and who made one or two unsuccessful attempts to attract some token of recognition. The sagacious animal, having more sense than some bipeds, saw his master was in no mood for the bestowal of favours, and turned back in a dejected manner to his place of repose.

The night was one of those warm, still nights, that rarely come so late in the season. Not a breath stirred the drooping vines that clustered around the columns of the veranda ; not a sound but the murmur of ‘ the evermurmuring sea,’ and the chirp of crickets on the lawn, broke upon the silence. Colonel Potten sat down in his easy chair, and leaning his head on one hand looked vacantly before him ; but his attention was arrested by a solitary sealed letter that his eyes fell upon, lying on the library table. He recognised the clear bold writing at a glance, and a look half of pleasure, half of annoyance, settled upon his handsome face as he took it up and broke the seal.

‘ Bah ! ’ he ejaculated. * It is strange that a man who is not a fool should use a crest in this country ! How they must laugh at us over the seas for our cursed imitations of their weaknesses ! * Then regarding the crest more attentively as it clung in its shattered state to the envelope, he saw the motto, which, translated, read : ‘The brave can die, but never yield he added, musingly, ‘After all, we who carry scars from such battles as Howard and I have fought side by side in,

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have a better right to use such symbols, if we have a taste that way, than have many of the descendants of those old Norman plunderers.' He broke the seal, and read,

‘ Dear Horace, — ‘ You will think me as changeable as a woman. I have this moment decided to accept the invitation that I refused, and you may expect me by boat to-morrow, or the day after. My head still troubles me, and Panchose has ordered me entire rest of body and mind. The idea is truly refreshing, to say nothing of what the reality will be to a poor devil who has never been allowed to have either.

‘Yours faithfully,

‘Paul Howard/

Colonel Potten’s eyebrows contracted in a frown.

‘Just as I expected. Now, I am chained here for another month. What imp of darkness ever prompted him to accept my invitation, after once having refused it on the ground of the dulness of a watering-place when the season is over, and the ninety-and-nine invitations that he stood committed to accept at country seats on the Hudson, Staten Island, and elsewhere, before the season commences in town ? I’ll be bound there’s some woman in the case.'

One little word in the corner had escaped his notice. ‘ Over.' His eye at last rested upon it, and he turned the leaf. ‘ P.S. — 1 have learned a new song, and by Jove, when I sing it, I feel in love with myself. I fancy it renders me irresistible. “ She is mine ! she is mine !” I tell you, Horatius, if I had known that song, and had sung it to you the night before we cut our way through

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the rebel ranks in “the wilderness,” we would have fought like gods that day ! As it was we fought like incarnate demons, did we not, old fellow ? No, we did what was better, we fought like men, for do you not remember how when the sun went down we both emptied our flasks at the mouths of the poor wretches who had stood up against us when that same sun was high in the heavens. You brought me good help that day, my comrade, when my horse was shot under me, and that cursed Minie ball gave me my ugly wound. I want your help now, in another direction. “ All is fair in love and in war,” you know. My secret will keep until I see you ; in the meantime, commend me to sweet “ Saint Agatha,” in the way of a kind word or two in behalf of your tried friend and faithful comrade of the field ; also to all other saints in your neighbourhood. You see I know something of your surroundings ; my familiar keeps me advised, though seas divide and oceans roll between/

‘ The devil helps his own,’ was all that Colonel Potten said, as he walked to the bell-rope, and after ordering the servant who answered it, to close the house for the night, went to his chamber. Meantime, how fared it with Agatha ? Did not the first ray of pity enter her heart to soften it towards the man who had paid her the highest compliment that it is in the power of man to pay & woman ? If so, she did not betray it in any way. When her guests returned to the house, two by two, after their moonlight walks, Agatha received them with a face as serene as the moonlight itself that streamed in through the bay window of the library, where she had half buried herself in the luxurious depths of a lounging chair. Only once was her composure disturbed ; it C

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was when Mrs. Grey came in leaning heavily upon Frank Mortimer’s arm, and approaching her, said,

4 It is agonising to think this is the last night. Oh, Miss Lee, I never expect to be as happy again this side of heaven.’

‘ Are you sure you will go to heaven ? ’ asked Agatha, looking up straight into the blue seductive e>es that were bent over her.

* I daresay if I had my deserts I never should get beyond the gates ; but then who would ? ’ she replied, with her usual aplomb.

Some eager words trembled upon Agatha’s lips, but, remembering her duty as a hostess, she withheld them.

Mrs. Grey, looking archly back, after saying ‘good-night,’ added,

‘ I thought you would answer that those who have charity for others might possibly get within those same gates, for charity, we are told, covers a multitude of sins. Again, “ good-night.” ’ Agatha arose, and gathered up her wrappings.

‘What is the meaning of all this?’ said Mortimer, ‘You cannot instruct my fair cousin in any biblical matters. She knows every passage by heart, I believe, for she brings them out like bomb-shells when she sits in judgment upon my peccadilloes. “ Saint Agatha ” we call her sometimes.’

They passed out laughing together, took leave of each other at the foot of the staircase, and in another hour the house was wrapped in darkness and in silence.

But Agatha could not sleep. After vainly striving to compose herself, she arose, and wrapping her dressing gown around her, sat down at the window. How beautiful the night was ! how glorious ! The loveliness of

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earth, ocean, and sky was intensified by the bewitching moonlight. Agatha was conscious of all this beauty though her eyes were cast upwards, as one who sees nothing. Her rippling hair fell over her shoulders and wrapped her as in a purple cloud ; and in the clouds she was to all intents and purposes.

4 How lovely it must be in heaven! ’ thought Agatha, ‘although this world would be quite beautiful enough for me, if I did not feel so fearfully lonely at times. Here am I, twenty-five years old, and as the world goes I have had what everyone calls a happy life ; yet, I hope I shall not live to be an old woman. I wonder old people are always so anxious to live. What with folly, and evil temper in one’s self, or others, and even worse things to contend with, I do not think life is so very desirable. Two or three more years, and I daresay people will begin to call me an old maid ; I feel a presentiment settling down upon me that I am to be one. Not that it would be such an unendurable fate to contemplate, if I could only come across that friend I am always looking for. I would like above all things to have such a friendship as I have dreamed of — such as I have often read about. I wonder if I ever will realise this desire of my heart ?’

So musing, Agatha’s eyes closed, and she went off into the land of dreams. Here she found herself walking hand in hand with a man of noble bearing. Her feet were bare, but she did not feel abashed ; not even so much as a grain of dust clung to them. How carefully he guided her steps, how solicitous he was that she should not fatigue herself ; and when they paused to rest by the wayside, how tenderly he held both her hands in his ! and looking up into his eyes, what revelations of