A book of love stories

Contents

PAGE

The Charmer Charmed I64

A BOOK OF LOVE STORIES.

I

SHE sat by the fire — a little low fire in a little low grate — warming her feet, or pretending to, this heroine of mine, this Dolly, otherwise Dorothea, otherwise Miss Brooks. She had sat thus for an hour already, and an hour ago it was high time to go to bed, according to all respectable and reasonable notions ; for an hour ago it was eleven, and now the little black hands on the little yellow-faced old clock were pointing to twelve. But Dolly did n't mind. Pretty soon the little yellow-faced clock would gather up all its energies, and in a perfect whiz and whir of excitement would jerk out twelve strokes with its lusty little hammer. Twelve strokes, each one of which would say as plainly as such a hammer could, " Go to bed, Dolly ; go to bed, Dolly ; go to bed, Dolly ! "

But Dolly would n't mind that either. Dolly would n't go to bed until she was ready ; until she had got her thoughts untied, to use her own expression. And her thoughts were in such a snarl just now. So, spite of the whiz and the whir, and the scolding admonition of the little yellow-faced old clock, Dolly still sat on, her hands clasped behind her head, and her tawny locks falling all about her shoulders in a cloudy confusion of loosened crimps and curls.

Her brow was knitted, and her eyes full of the perplexities of her thought, yet spite of these signs of gravity and seriousness, Dolly looked so young, so girl-like, sitting there in her white dressing-sacque, with her pink and white face, and her great crop of bright hair framing it, that you would have said her perplexities were only of the lightest and most girlish description.

But you don't know Dolly yet \ and you don't know Dolly's history and her daily life, and her troubles and trials. If you did, you would know that she did n't spend her time sitting up over small perplexities. Dolly had seen too much and known too much of the great perplexities to fool away her time, her *' beautysleep " like that.

Whir, whir, tick, tick, goes the noisy little clock, and whir, whir, tick, tick, go Dolly's thoughts in this wise : —

" It is hard, spite of all the grand talk about womanly independence, for a little body like me to be independent. I 've tried it now for a good while, and I must say it 's up-hill work for me. Up-hill work, and the years are going on and on, and by and by I shall lose all these fresh looks and these yellow locks that get so much praise now ; and then I shall lind myself old and alone in the world some day. Oh dear, I wish my composition had something it has n't ! I wish I had more faith in myself, more courage ; but life frightens me as I look forward and see myself a lonely little old woman. Yes, I am afraid to trust to my genius, though they all say I have it. I 'm afraid tp go on and on with the years, with only my art for companion and support ; for I 'm not a good worker. I get worried and dispirited, and then my inspiration goes, and I feel only the dull labor. I can't make myself into a machine, neither can I keep myself at high-pressure all the time, and that makes me a vagabond, that makes me troubled and worried half the time. And out of this trouble and worry, out of this raging river of uncertainties, there is an opportunity for me to step into a safe little boat, and row, or be rowed, safely to shore. And I can't, oh, I can't make up my mind to step in ! It 's such a very safe litde boat, such a trig, trim little craft ; and it would row so carefully and slowly, and in such a narrow channel all the way. And that is what repels me, — all this safety and smoothness and calmness, because it 's the safety and smoothness and calmness of something so alien to me. It is the safety of a limit, and not of strength and power ; and such kind of safety I 'm afraid would be very unsafe for me. I'm afraid I should grow rebellious, and feel chafed and fretted like a caged creature. And then this would only bring me into another worry, — ' out of the fryingpan into the fire.' But is there any worry like this worry from day to day about what we shall eat, and what we shall drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed? Ah me, what had I better do? I 'm a coward to ask the question, I know that ; but there 's one thing I '11 conclude upon at once. I '11 see the owner of this trim Httle boat, — this careful oarsman. I '11 see him, as Bab desires, to-morrow night. I '11 see him while she is away, and then I can tell better what manner of man he is. Perhaps, after all, he 's more than I think. I 'm too rapid, maybe, in my judgments, — believe too much in my first impressions. Yes, I '11 see him ; , and there the matter shall rest for the present."

And coming to this conclusion Dolly stretched out her arms, and opened her mouth very wide, showing all her little irregular white teeth in a long-drawn yawn. There was a great cat sleeping on the corner of the rug, who waked up at this yawn, and gave an inquiring inlaw, looking at Dolly with round, staring eyes of amazement. Dolly laughed, and put out her hand.

" Come here. Major ! " and Major gave a spring and seated himself in Dolly's lap. " Now, Major," proceeded Dolly, " I want to tell you something. I 've made up my mind to see Bab's bachelor to-morrow night. Bab says he wants to marry me, and that it will be a good thing for me. What do you think of that. Major? Do you approve? "

^' Miaw^^ went the Major, and then he winked knowingly with one of his straw-colored eyes.

" Oh, you think it worth consideration ; I thought you would. You know just how lonesome it is living here all alone, don't you? You know just how hard it is to forage for yourself, and then to find only skim-milk in your saucer? "

Major gave a most energetic miaw here.

DOLL Y. I 3

"Oh, Major, Major," cried out Dolly at this, " what a worldly old cat you are, to be willing to sell yourself for a pot of cream every day ! Don't you know how that turns out a mess of pottage sometimes ? Oh, Major, Major, you 'd a great deal better keep up your courage, and go mousing about on your own hook, with now and then a chance of skim-milk."

And scourging herself over Major's shoulders in this fantastic way, Dolly stroked the purring cat and regarded him with great, sad, introverted eyes, that, spite of the smiling lips, revealed the sadness of her heart. And after a minute spent thus, she rose, put Major softly down upon his corner of the rug, and went off to bed humming that sweetest, mournfulest old song, " Auld Robin Gray."

II

I shall have to tell you a little more about Dolly than she has managed to tell herself, after all. I shall have to tell you who Bab is, and a little about Aunt Jo. Bab was a married friend who was pretty Barbara Slade once, and was now Mrs. Barbara Ingalls. She was very fond of Dolly, and had latterly got an idea into her head that Dolly ought to be married. She knew something of Dolly's life, — not all the ins and outs, for Dolly, frank as she seemed, had those deep reserves which very proud and sensitive people are sure to have. There were straits in Dolly's life which she had never told anybody, not even Major, whom she declared to be her most confidential fi-iend. But Bab knew that Dolly lived alone with Aunt Jo, and that when Aunt Jo died the little annuity died with her, and Dolly would have to shirk for herself in the world.

To Barbara Ingalls, who had a sure home, and a fine one too, who had somebody to look out for her at every turn, this having to shirk for one's self was a matter of terror. So, thinking the matter over and over one day, after finding Dolly wearying about some household tasks that were too much for her, she came to this conclusion, — that Dolly ought to marry. And suddenly coming to this conclusion, she came quite as suddenly to the hero who was to play the principal part in her plan, — to Mr. Herman Morris, whose quiet attentions to Dolly the past winter had been swiftly but shrewdly interpreted by wise Mrs. Barbara. Dolly, preoccupied, had failed to see what Mrs. Barbara saw, until that lady opened her eyes. She laughed at first, but Barbara persisted, and her perplexities increasing, as perplexities will, until everything all at once seems to get into a hard knot, she at last consented to think of the matter. " He is the most gentlemanly man of my acquaintance, quiet, retiring, and modest, — such a man as Aunt Jo will be sure to approve," said Bab diplomatically.

And Aunt Jo ?

Well, it is difficult to do justice to Aunt Jo. She and Dolly lived together alone in the smallest possible way on the smallest possible means. And Aunt Jo, who was seventy, and had brought up half a dozen of those rampageous Brooks children, and buried all but

Dolly, was as bright and sweet and sunny as if life had given her all its roses instead of its thorns. Her thorn now was Dolly's future. She had no great ambition, no schemes for this child of hers ; she only wanted to feel sure that Dolly would be taken care of when she was gone, for she did n't feel sure that Dolly would take very good care of herself. She knew better than anybody what a little irresponsible vagabond this Dolly was. And Dolly knew that she knew, and without a word on Aunt Jo's part, Dolly knew by that sharp intuition of hers how Aunt Jo worried about her ; and this worried Dolly ; and this brings us up to the time when she had concluded to become better acquainted with Mr. Morris, with a vague view to Barbara's plans, and her own release from the ceaseless worry.

III

The week that Mr. Ingalls always spent in New Orleans transacting some Southern business that he had, Dolly always spent with Mrs. Ingalls, to " keep her company, " as women say. And one night of this week Mrs. Barbara had Mr. Morris there to tea ; and then, directly after the hospitable meal, this arch plotter and planner announced that she was sent for to go round and see Mrs. Blake's little boy, who was down with the measles, — an errand of neighborly duty which could scarcely be deferred, and which she took upon herself with many apologies and regrets to Mr. Morris for her unavoidable absence during his visit. As she went out of the room and upstairs after this flourish of trumpets Dolly followed her.

"Bab, what do you expect will become of you if you go on like this? You made that all up about Mrs. Blake's little boy, you know you did."

"Of course I did," returned Mrs. Bab in a little giggle. " I never do things by halves, and I hope I understand truth well enough to know how to romance when great occasions require it without damaging anybody. All stratagem is fair in love and war, you know."

Dolly tossed her head. " Love ! Don't talk about that, Bab. We 're only considering a possible bargain ! " and Dolly's air and tone were full of self-disdain.

Mrs. Barbara was alarmed. " What a goose you are, Dolly, to talk in that way about such a fine, handsome fellow as Herman' Morris ! A bargain ! I think you insult him."

" So I do, Bab, " spoke up Dolly, with quiet significance. But Mrs. Barbara was n't going to notice any of Dolly's heroics, so she kept up her fine indignation strain.

" A much better woman than you are might fall in love with Mr. Morris, I can tell you. Miss Dolly. "

"Oh, I dare say."

" And jump at the chance of being his wife. "

" I hope the better woman may have the chance to jump at, then. 'T would be a pity for me to interfere with such blissful possibilities. "

And Dolly dropped a saucy little courtesy to Mrs. Barbara, whereat Mrs. Barbara laughed, reheved.

Dolly had got off her high horse. Dolly had come down from her heroics. She was not alarmed now. When Dolly began to jest she was in one of her safest moods. You could do something with Dolly then. It was only those high flights that took her away from controlling hands, from the practical ruts of Hfe.

So in her jesting mood, thinking of that " better woman," Dolly went back to the parlor and to Mr. Herman Morris. A fine, handsome fellow, Mrs. Barbara had declared him. One gets an idea of height and breadth from this, and Mr. Morris was neither very tall nor very broad, nor the extreme reverse. He was one of the medium-sized men, with a good figure for his size, an elegant carriage, and a strikingly handsome face, brown-bearded and blue-eyed. He rose as Dolly entered, and came forward with a picture in his hand. It was a photograph of Dolly herself, which he had found upon the table.

" Do you like this of yourself ? " he asked.

"That? Oh yes, better than anything I ever had taken. Why, don't you ? "

" No, Miss Brooks, I can't say that I do. "

Miss Brooks smiled. " Tell me why you don't like it, " she asked ; " it interests me to know. "

His eyes went back to the pictute. " The shadows are badly thrown, to begin with; there is too much shadow, and too much light. Then I don't think the position a happy one. I never saw an expression like that upon your face. In short. Miss Brooks, I don't think the picture does you justice, seriously."

Dolly bowed and smiled again.

" Now, here is what I call a good picture of a person. " It was a carte of Mrs. Ingalls, one of those smooth, even pictures which the majority of people admire.

"You don't like it?" said Mr. Morris, looking up, as Dolly said nothing.

" I don't dislike it ; I don't care for it — that is all."

"What is there in it that you criticise?" And Mr. Morris looked hard at the picture and then hard at Dolly, in an evident puzzle.

" It 's what there is n't in it that I find fault with — there 's the trouble. There 's nothing in it, to my thinking, — not a bit of soul. Barbara might as well be Bridget Dolan."

Mr. Morris bowed politely.

" Intimate friends," he said, " are rarely satisfied with their friends' pictures, I know. Now to me this seems a very satisfactory likeness. I think most people would find it so." •

" Oh yes, I dare say."

Mr. Morris said a few words further in the matter, and then, putting the carte down, he leaned forward with an earnest intentness that rather startled his companion.

" Miss Brooks, I 've wanted an opportunity to say something in reference to a Httle conversation we had the last time I saw you. It 's troubled me a good deal."

Dolly could n't remember a thing that he had said to her the last time she had seen him. So she waited for him to go on.

" You don't remember. It was about Mr. Thornton. You asked me what I thought of him. I expressed myself very freely ; and I have since thought that I was not charitable enough in my expressions."

" Oh yes, I recollect now ; and if I recollect rightly, your expressions were very moderate, but quite just."

" I 'm glad you think so ; but I 've been troubled ever since about it, and I really don't think I ought to have said what I did. "

" You told me the real state of your mind, I suppose, and you told me facts."

" Yes, oh yes, " answered Mr. Morris, evidently in a difficulty how to reconcile his sensitive conscience and these facts. " But," resuming, " I don't think I ought to have said so much even if I did believe it to be truth ; for I may be mistaken, you know."

"You are not afraid of my making mischief, Mr. Morris ? "

" Oh no, no ; it 's entirely with myself. I dislike to think I 've been uncharitable, that 's all."

" I beheve you said that you thought Mr. Thornton was rather conceited, and overestimated his abiHties. I coincided with you ; and then we talked of what grew out of these tendencies, and you told me of an incident where he got himself into a- false position with the Herveys, through his vanity ; and I told you of a little personal experience which corroborated all this. Neither you nor I had been slandering anybody. We had simply stated some facts, and compared notes, that we might come to a candid conclusion about a person of whom it is necessary for us to know something, as we are likely to meet him rather frequently in society, and might, if we did n't understand his peculiarities, get into difficulties ourselves, by believing his assertions too implicitly, or trusting him inadvertently. Forewarned is forearmed, and I think I shall be on my guard when I 'm in the society of Mr. Charley Thornton hereafter."

This was a plain statement, certainly ; but Mr. Morris still seemed unsettled.

" After all, we might be mistaken," he went on. " I hate to think ill or judge hardly. We should, be so careful in our judgments. We cannot always understand another's motives ; and what seems very dark to us may have a better meaning."

" No doubt about that, Mr. Morris ; but there can be scarcely two meanings to a man's conduct who declares that such a girl as Josephine Hervey encouraged his attentions, and that the only reason he did n't go on was because he himself was not sufficiently interested ; and that, when all the time Josephine was engaged to another — to such another as Jim Lawrence."

" Yes, yes, I know, but — "

A look of impatience crossed Dolly's face.

" I tell you what, Mr. Morris," she interrupted, " I think you 're a little morbid in your conscience. Charley Thornton is n't worth so much thought and breath, any way. I /;/iow he 's what we declared him to be, and I 've simply got him settled in his proper place now, — put away on a shelf, labelled ' dangerous,' and I don't trouble myself any more about him. Dismiss him from your mind in the same manner, Mr. Morris."

" And it does n't disturb you to find a person can be really false through his weakness?"

" Disturb me ! Well, I long ago accepted that fact of human fallibility, and unless the person is very much to me individually I don't allow it to disturb me much. In this case I Ve only opened another of the world's oysters, and found a pebble instead of a pearl. I 've got used to such findings, and I can't afford to go into mourning over every one ; and there are pure pearls somewhere, you know, after all. But come, let us send Charley Thornton to Coventry or any other oblivion, and let me sing you a new song I have, — one new to me."

It was Story's significant words, " I am weary with rowing," and Boott's perfect music, which expresses what the words fail to express.

Dolly's voice was a mezzo-soprano, wild and untaught ; but somebody said once of it, " I don't see how that girl manages to put so much into that voice of hers." Well, she sung this song, which has a heart-break in it, and into her voice went all the heart-break which had been written there ; and gay as she seemed, Dolly- felt the heart-break, for Dolly herself was "weary with rowing." She turned slowly after the singing. The words, the music, were still with her.

" That is very sweet, but too sad for you, — too sad for anybody, Miss Brooks. We need something to cheer us in our recreations, I think."

Miss Brooks gave a little movement of her head which might have been of assent ; and by that time Mr. Morris had a song before her of his own choosing. It was "The Merry Zingara." As she concluded this, Mrs. Ingalls came in.

"How is Mrs. Blake's little boy?" asked Dolly, wheeling round upon the piano-stool, her face expressing mischief.

" More comfortable, I thank you," answered Mrs. Bab, her bright eyes twinkling.

" Did you get there as soon as she expected you ? "

Dolly was waxing dangerous. There was no knowing how she might have gone on, but that Mr. Morris, finding that it was after ten, made his adieux. The halldoor had no sooner closed upon him than Mrs. Barbara turned upon Dolly.

" Dolly, I '11 pay you for that last. I like to have broken down entirely ; but I '11 postpone my revenge while you tell me about your evening. What do you think of him?"

" The first question answered will answer your other question. I '11 give you a history of the evening."

Whereupon Dolly, to begin with, repeated the photograph conversation.

" He did n't like this, eh? " and Barbara lifted Dolly's carfe to view.

" No, he did n't see it, Bab dear, at all : he saw too much light, too much shadow ; he did n't see that for once the sun had caught the very depths of a human soul. All the best that is in me is brought out there, Bab. He missed the outside sparkle, the color : that 's all he sees, or would ever see. And, Bab, he liked this of yours — thought it the perfection of likenesses."

" That thing, that lump of flesh without a soul ! " cried Mrs. Bab.

Then, with a silent grimace, she tossed it from her, and told Dolly to go on. Dolly went on, and rendered with dramatic fidelity what followed. And at the end she said, " There, it is n't necessary for me to tell you what I think of Mr. Morris now."

Mrs. Barbara laughed. " Yes, tell me. I like to hear you talk, and you 're full of it, I can see."

Dolly joined the laugh. Then, suddenly turning grave, —

" Wpll, I can tell you one thing, to begin with. I thought in the midst of the conversation this evening of something Miss Thackeray says in her story of ' Jack the Giant-Killer.' It is where poor Jack sits and listens to his wife's little tunes, and it came over him that he had got to listen all his life to those little tunes. Well, it came over me just the same as I sat there listening to Mr. Morris : it came over me that if I married this man I should have to listen to little tunes all my life. I don't mean anything harsh or invidious in any way. I think Mr. Morris is an excellent man, and I respect him. He is kind and gende and gentlemanly, but he lacks masculinity. I don't scoff at goodness by any means ; but his goodness is feminine goodness, and not masculine. Think of a man harping upon such a quibble of conscientiousness, and making a great matter out of so small a one, when there are so many really great matters in the world to concern one's self about. All this blessed evening spent in such pottering talk. Little tunes ! That is just the expression. Suppose he had — which he had n't — criticised unjustly or severely, it was only necessary for him to retract it briefly ; but to

DOLLY.

harp on the matter so Jong was making both himself and the matter of too much importance. It is very curious, that habit that some persons have — really modest persons too — of bringing the little worries of their consciences before you. They fancy that confession is going to give them some sort of absolution. Confession ! Don't you remember what I was reading the other day from Holbeach : ' The weak — those who must, even if they die for it, have the sympathy of the majority — commonly confess : the strong hold their tongues and hold their own ' ? I wanted to say to Mr. Morris, when he was going over and over this small worry of his, ' Don't fret your immortal soul about the accidents and blunders and trifles of daily life ; but go your ways with a high serenity and faith in yourself, and the accidents and blunders and trifles will by and by adjust themselves to the larger sphere that you create.' There, I read that somewhere, I don't know where."

" You made it up for the occasion, Dolly ; it 's one of your manufactured quotations, I know."

" Is it? Well, I 'm glad you think so." A moment's silence, then, with an indescribable, long-drawn intonation, an indescribable light coming into her eyes : " How different all this was from another man's, ' The heavens are large, I don't notice small clouds ' ! "

"Eh, what is that?"

" You know, Bab — you 've heard me speak of it before. It was Roy Dallas's answer to me one evening when I asked him if he noticed Mrs. Stamford's coolness to him. I shall never forget that answer, it was so characteristic of the man's nature. * No, I had n't noticed it,' he replied, half smiling. ' But now you mention it, I perceive that there was a difference, perhaps ; but the heavens are large, I don't notice small clouds.' That was just as indicative of his large, self-poised nature as Herman Morris's small worries are indicative of his nature."

" Dolly, I beg your pardon ! " suddenly burst out Mrs. Barbara.

" For what? " laughed Dolly, looking a Httle amazed.

" For tr>'ing to make a match between you and Herman Morris. I see now what a blunderer I was. But, Doll dear, I hate to think of your drudging along alone to the end of your life."

" Alone ! Bab, I never felt so alone in my life as I did when Herman Morris was talking to me to-night, — good and kind gentleman that he is."

" Yes, good and kind gentleman ; but he is n't enough of a person for you, that 's it, Doll. You 're more of a man than he is, for all you 're such a soft little duck of a girl, with your pretty hair and your dainty ways."

" O Bab, don't call me a man-woman ! "

" I 'm not calling you a man-woman. You don't call Shirley a man-woman, do you — Jane Eyre's Shirley? You 're like her in some ways ; the cool, clear ways you look at things, without pottering, you know. As for the masculine element, somebody — some high light of literature — says that no man is complete in his nature without something of the feminine element, and no woman without the masculine. I think that is true. It means just the tempering of each nature — one, the masculine, by softness; the other, the feminine, by strength. Without this element in each, there is hardness on the one side and weakness on the other."

"Yes, I beheve that," said Dolly thoughtfully. "I never knew so gentle a person in some ways as Roy Dallas ; and what a masculine man he was — a man's man ! "

" Dolly, you measure all men by him ; did you know it? "

" Yes, I know it," answered Dolly.

"That is the reason you are single to this day, Dolly."

" How you speak of that fact, as if it were a great misfortune, Bab ! "

" Well, it is in some directions, for you, dear. I see it is of no use for you to marry a man that is n't equal to you j but I wish you could marry a man you loved, Dolly dear, you 're such a child after all in that part of your character which must cope with the world's practical forces. It hurts you so to shirk for yourself. As the world stands now, a woman like you has n't an easy time of it. You ought to be taken care of, looked out for, Dolly."