Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (9 page)

 
          
           
"You always say that, yet you know he chafes and is unhappy at being
dependent on you. Mamma and I don't mind; but he is a man, and it frets him. He
said he'd take matters into his own hands soon, and then you may be sorry you
were so slow in helping him."

 
          
           
"Miss Muir is looking out of the window. You'd better go and take your
run, else she will scold."

 
          
           
"Not she. I'm not a bit afraid of
her,
she's so
gentle and sweet. I'm fond of her already. You'll get as brown as Ned, lying
here in the sun. By the way, Miss Muir agrees with me in thinking him handsomer
than you."

 
          
           
"I admire her taste and quite agree with her."

 
          
           
"She said he was manly, and that was more attractive than beauty in a man.
She does express things so nicely. Now I'm off."
And
away danced Bella, humming the burden of Miss Muir's sweetest song.

 
          
           
"'Energy is more attractive than beauty in a man.' She is right, but how
the deuce
can
a man
be
energetic, with nothing to expend his energies
upon?" mused
Coventry
, with his hat over his eyes.

 
          
           
A few moments later, the sweep of a dress caught his ear. Without stirring, a
sidelong glance showed him Miss Muir coming across the terrace, as if to join
Bella. Two stone steps led down to the lawn. He lay near them, and Miss Muir
did not see him till close upon him. She started and slipped on the last step,
recovered herself, and glided on, with a glance of unmistakable contempt as she
passed the recumbent figure of the apparent sleeper. Several things in Bella's
report had nettled him, but this look made him angry, though he would not own
it, even to himself.

 
          
           
"Gerald, come here,
quick
!" presently called
Bella, from the rustic seat where she stood beside her governess, who sat with
her hand over her face as if in pain.

 
          
           
Gathering himself up, Coventry slowly obeyed, but involuntarily quickened his
pace as he heard Miss Muir say, "Don't call him;
he
can do nothing"; for the emphasis on the word
"he" was very significant.

 
          
           
"What is it, Bella?" he asked, looking rather wider awake than usual.

 
          
           
"You startled Miss Muir and made her turn her ankle. Now help her to the
house, for she is in great pain; and don't lie there anymore to frighten people
like a snake in the grass," said his sister petulantly.

 
          
           
"I beg your pardon. Will you allow me?" And
Coventry
offered his arm.

 
          
           
Miss Muir looked up with the expression which annoyed him and answered coldly,
"Thank you, Miss Bella will do as well."

 
          
           
"Permit me to doubt that." And with a gesture too decided to be
resisted,
Coventry
drew her arm through his and led her into
the house. She submitted quietly, said the pain would soon be
over,
and when settled on the couch in Bella's room
dismissed him with the briefest thanks. Considering the unwonted exertion he
had made, he thought she might have been a little more grateful, and went away
to Lucia, who always brightened when he came.

 
          
           
No more was seen of Miss Muir till teatime; for now, while the
family were
in retirement, they dined early and saw no
company. The governess had excused herself at dinner, but came down in the
evening a little paler than usual and with a slight limp in her gait. Sir John
was there, talking with his nephew, and they merely acknowledged her presence
by the sort of bow which gentlemen bestow on governesses. As she slowly made
her way to her place behind the urn,
Coventry
said to his brother, "Take her a
footstool, and ask her how she is, Ned." Then, as if necessary to account
for his politeness to his uncle, he explained how he was the cause of the
accident.

 
          
           
"Yes, yes. I understand. Rather a nice little person, I fancy. Not exactly
a beauty, but accomplished and well-bred, which is better for one of her
class."

 
          
           
"Some tea, Sir John?" said a soft voice at his elbow, and there was
Miss
 
 Muir, offering cups to the
gentlemen.
 
 

 
          
           
"Thank you, thank you," said Sir John, sincerely hoping she had
overheard him.

 
          
           
As
Coventry
took his, he said graciously, "You are
very forgiving, Miss
 
 Muir, to wait upon me, after I
have caused you so much pain."
 
 

 
          
           
"It is my duty, sir" was her reply, in a tone which plainly said,
"but not my pleasure." And she returned to her place, to smile, and
chat, and be charming, with Bella and her brother.

 
          
           
Lucia, hovering near her uncle and Gerald, kept them to herself, but was
disturbed to find that their eyes often wandered to the cheerful group about
the table, and that their attention seemed distracted by the frequent bursts of
laughter and fragments of animated conversation which reached them. In the
midst of an account of a tragic affair which she endeavored to make as
interesting and pathetic as possible, Sir John burst into a hearty laugh, which
betrayed that he had been listening to a livelier story
than
her own
. Much annoyed, she said hastily, "I knew it would be so!
Bella has no idea of the proper manner in which to treat a governess. She and
Ned will forget the difference of rank and spoil that person for her work. She
is inclined to be presumptuous already, and if my aunt won't trouble herself to
give Miss Muir a hint in time, I shall."

 
          
           
"Wait until she has finished that story, I beg of you," said
Coventry
, for Sir John was already off.

 
          
           
"If you find that nonsense so entertaining, why don't you follow Uncle's
example? I don't need you."

 
          
           
"Thank you. I will." And Lucia was deserted.

 
          
           
But Miss Muir had ended and, beckoning to Bella, left the room, as if quite
unconscious of the honor conferred upon her or the dullness she left behind
her. Ned went up to his mother, Gerald returned to make his peace with Lucia,
and, bidding them good-night, Sir John turned homeward. Strolling along the
terrace, he came to the lighted window of Bella's study, and wishing to say a
word to
her,
he half pushed aside the curtain and
looked in.
A pleasant little scene.
Bella working
busily, and near her in a low chair, with the light falling on her fair hair
and delicate profile, sat Miss Muir reading aloud. "Novels!" thought
Sir John, and smiled at them for a pair of romantic girls. But pausing to
listen a moment before he spoke, he found it was no novel, but history, read
with a fluency which made every fact interesting, every sketch of character
memorable, by the dramatic effect given to it. Sir John was fond of history,
and failing eyesight often curtailed his favorite amusement. He had tried
readers, but none suited him, and he had given up the plan. Now as he listened,
he thought how pleasantly the smoothly flowing voice would wile away his
evenings,
and he envied Bella her new acquisition.

 
          
           
A bell rang, and Bella sprang up, saying, "Wait for me a minute. I must
run to Mamma, and then we will go on with this charming prince."

 
          
           
Away she went, and Sir John was about to retire as quietly as he came, when
Miss Muir's peculiar behavior arrested him for an instant. Dropping the book,
she threw her arms across the table, laid her head down upon them, and broke
into a passion of tears, like one who could bear restraint no longer. Shocked
and amazed, Sir John stole away; but all that night the kindhearted gentleman
puzzled his brains with conjectures about his niece's interesting young
governess, quite unconscious that she intended he should do so.

 
          
           
For several weeks the most monotonous tranquillity seemed to reign at Coventry
House, and yet, unseen, unsuspected, a storm was gathering. The arrival of Miss
Muir seemed to produce a change in everyone, though no one could have explained
how or why. Nothing could be more unobtrusive and retiring than her manners.
She was devoted to Bella, who soon adored her, and was only happy when in her
society. She ministered in many ways to Mrs. Coventry's comfort, and that lady
declared there never was such a nurse. She amused, interested and won Edward
with her wit and womanly sympathy. She made Lucia respect and envy her for her
accomplishments, and piqued indolent Gerald by her persistent avoidance of him,
while Sir John was charmed with her respectful deference and the graceful
little attentions she paid him in a frank and artless way, very winning to the
lonely old man. The very servants liked her; and instead of being, what most
governesses are, a forlorn creature hovering between superiors and inferiors,
Jean Muir was the life of the house, and the friend of all but two.

 
          
           
Lucia disliked her, and
Coventry
distrusted her; neither could exactly say why, and neither owned the
feeling, even to themselves. Both watched her covertly yet found no shortcoming
anywhere. Meek, modest, faithful, and invariably sweet-tempered—they could
complain of nothing and wondered at their own doubts, though they could not
banish them.

 
          
           
It soon came to pass that the family was divided, or rather that two members
were left very much to themselves. Pleading timidity, Jean Muir kept much in
Bella's study and soon made it such a pleasant little nook that Ned and his
mother, and often Sir John, came in to enjoy the music, reading, or cheerful
chat which made the evenings so gay. Lucia at first was only too glad to have
her cousin to herself, and he too lazy to care what went on about him. But
presently he wearied of her society, for she was not a brilliant girl, and
possessed few of those winning arts which charm a man and steal into his heart.
Rumors of the merry-makings that went on reached him and made him curious to
share them; echoes of fine music went sounding through the house, as he lounged
about the empty drawing room; and peals of laughter reached him while listening
to Lucia's grave discourse.

 
          
           
She soon discovered that her society had lost its charm, and the more eagerly
she tried to please him, the more signally she failed. Before long Coventry
fell into a habit of strolling out upon the terrace of an evening, and amusing
himself by passing and repassing the window of Bella's room, catching glimpses
of what was going on and reporting the result of his observations to Lucia, who
was too proud to ask admission to the happy circle or to seem to desire it.

 
          
           
"I shall go to
London
tomorrow, Lucia," Gerald said one evening, as he came back from
what he called "a survey," looking very much annoyed.

 
          
           
"To
London
?" exclaimed his cousin, surprised.

 
          
           
"Yes, I must bestir myself and get Ned his commission, or it will be all
over with him."

 
          
           
"How do you mean?"

 
          
           
"He is falling in love as fast as it is possible for a boy to do it. That
girl has bewitched him, and he will make a fool of himself very soon, unless I
put a stop to it."

 
          
           
"I was afraid she would attempt a flirtation. These persons always do,
they are such a mischief-making race."

 
          
           
"Ah, but there you are wrong, as far as little Muir is concerned. She does
not flirt, and Ned has too much sense and spirit to be caught by a silly
coquette. She treats him like an elder sister, and mingles the most attractive
friendliness with a quiet dignity that captivates the boy. I've been watching
them, and there he is, devouring her with his eyes, while she reads a
fascinating novel in the most fascinating style. Bella and Mamma are absorbed
in the tale, and see nothing; but Ned makes himself the hero, Miss Muir the
heroine, and lives the love scene with all the ardor of a man whose heart has
just waked up. Poor lad!
Poor lad!"

 
          
           
Lucia looked at her cousin, amazed by the energy with which he spoke, the
anxiety in his usually listless face. The change became him, for it showed what
he might be, making
one regret
still more what he was.
Before she could speak, he was gone again, to return presently, laughing, yet
looking a little angry.

 
          
           
"What now?" she asked.

 
          
           
"'Listeners never hear any good of themselves' is the truest of proverbs.
I stopped a moment to look at Ned, and heard the following flattering remarks.
Mamma is gone, and Ned was asking little Muir to sing that delicious barcarole
she gave us the other evening.

 
          
           
"'Not now, not here,' she said.

 
          
           
"'Why not?
You sang it in the drawing room
readily enough,' said Ned, imploringly.

 
          
           
"'That is a very different thing,' and she looked at him with a little
shake of the head, for he was folding his hands and doing the passionate
pathetic.

 
          
           
"'Come and sing it there then,' said innocent Bella
. '
Gerald
likes your voice so much, and complains that you will never sing to him.'

 
          
           
"'He never asks me,' said Muir, with an odd smile.

 
          
           
"'He is too lazy, but he wants to hear you.'

 
          
           
"'When he asks me, I will sing—if I feel like it.'
And she shrugged her shoulders with a provoking gesture of indifference.

 
          
           
"'But it amuses him, and he gets so bored down here,' began stupid little
Bella
. '
Don't be shy or proud, Jean, but come and
entertain the poor old fellow.'

 
          
           
"'No, thank you.
I engaged to teach Miss
Coventry, not to amuse Mr.
 
 Coventry' was all the answer she
got.
 
 

 
          
           
"'You amuse Ned, why not Gerald? Are you afraid of him?' asked Bella.

 
          
           
"Miss Muir laughed, such a scornful laugh, and said, in that peculiar tone
of hers, 'I cannot fancy anyone being
afraid
of your elder brother.'

 
          
           
"'I am, very often, and so would you be, if you ever saw him angry,'
And
 
 Bella looked as if I'd beaten her.
 
 

 
          
           
"'Does he ever wake up enough to be angry?' asked that girl, with an air
of surprise. Here Ned broke into a fit of laughter, and they are at it now, I
fancy, by the sound."

 
          
           
"Their foolish gossip is not worth getting excited about, but I certainly
would send Ned away. It's no use trying to get rid of 'that girl,' as you say,
for my aunt is as deluded about her as Ned and Bella, and she really does get
the child along splendidly. Dispatch Ned, and then she can do no harm,"
said Lucia, watching
Coventry
's altered face as he stood in the moonlight, just outside the window
where she sat.

 
          
           
"Have you no fears for me?" he asked smiling, as if ashamed of his
momentary petulance.

 
          
           
"No, have you for yourself?"
And a shade of anxiety
passed over her face.

 
          
           
"I defy the Scotch witch to enchant me, except with her music," he
added, moving down the terrace again, for Jean was singing like a nightingale.

 
          
           
As the song ended, he put aside the curtain, and said, abruptly, "Has
anyone any commands for
London
? I am going there tomorrow."

 
          
           
"A pleasant trip to you," said Ned carelessly, though usually his
brother's movements interested him extremely.

 
          
           
"I want quantities of things, but I must ask Mamma first." And Bella
began to make a list.

 
          
           
"May I trouble you with a letter, Mr. Coventry?"

 
          
           
Jean Muir turned around on the music stool and looked at him with the cold keen
glance which always puzzled him.

 
          
           
He bowed, saying, as if to them all, "I shall be off by the early train,
so you must give me your orders tonight."

 
          
           
"Then come away, Ned, and leave Jean to write her letter."

 
          
           
And Bella took her reluctant brother from the room.

 
          
           
"I will give you the letter in the morning," said Miss Muir, with a
curious quiver in her voice, and the look of one who forcibly suppressed some
strong emotion.

 
          
           
"As you please."
And
Coventry
went back to Lucia, wondering who Miss Muir
was going to write to. He said nothing to his brother of the purpose which took
him to town, lest a word should produce the catastrophe which he hoped to
prevent; and Ned, who now lived in a sort of dream, seemed to forget Gerald's
existence altogether.

 
          
           
With unwonted energy
Coventry
was astir seven next
morning
. Lucia gave him
his breakfast, and as he left the room to order the carriage, Miss Muir came
gliding downstairs, very pale and heavy-eyed (with a sleepless, tearful night,
he thought) and, putting a delicate little letter into his hand, said
hurriedly, "Please leave this at Lady Sydney's, and if you see her, say 'I
have remembered.'"

 
          
           
Her peculiar manner and peculiar message struck him. His eye involuntarily
glanced at the address of the letter and read young
Sydney
's name. Then, conscious of his mistake, he
thrust it into his pocket with a hasty "Good morning," and left Miss
Muir standing with one hand pressed on her heart, the other half extended as if
to recall the letter.

 
          
           
All the way to
London
,
Coventry
found it impossible to forget the almost
tragical expression of the girl's face, and it haunted him through the bustle
of two busy days. Ned's affair was put in the way of being speedily
accomplished, Bella's commissions were executed, his mother's pet delicacies
provided for her, and a gift for Lucia, whom the family had given him for his
future mate, as he was too lazy to choose for himself.

 
          
           
Jean Muir's letter he had not delivered, for Lady Sydney was in the country and
her townhouse closed. Curious to see how she would receive his tidings, he went
quietly in on his arrival at home. Everyone had dispersed to dress for dinner
except Miss Muir, who was in the garden, the servant said.