Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 6

"And how is the dear Aunt Matty?" said the guest, coming toward me with both hands extended. "Ah! Jessie Lee, you are a fortunate girl to have so sweet a friend."

"I am fortunate in everything," said Jessie, turning her large, earnest eyes on my face with a look of tenderness that went to my heart, "and most of all here."

"And I," said Mrs. Dennison, with a suppressed breath, and a look of graceful sadness. "Well, well, one can't expect everything."

Jessie laughed. This bit of sentiment in her guest rather amused her.

"Ah, you never will believe in sorrow of any kind, until it comes in earnest," said the widow, with an entire change in her countenance; "but I, who have seen it in so many forms, cannot always forget."

"But," said Jessie, with one of her caressing movements, "you must forget it now. We are to be happy as the day is long while you are here.

Isn't that so, aunt? We have laid out such walks, and rides, and pleasant evenings--of course, you have brought your habit."

"Of course. What would one be in the country without riding?"

"And your guitar? I want Aunt Matty to hear you sing. She never was with us when you had an instrument."

"Oh! Aunt Matty shall have enough of that, I promise her; the man who follows with my luggage has the guitar somewhere among his plunder."

"I'm very glad," said Jessie, smiling archly. "Now everything is provided for except--"

"Except what, lady-bird?"

"Except that we have no gentlemen to admire you."

"No gentlemen!"

"Not a soul but papa."

The widow certainly looked a little disappointed for the first instant, but she rallied before any eye less keen than mine could have observed it, and laughed joyously.

"Thank heaven, we sha'n't be bothered with compliments, nor tormented with adoration. Oh! Jessie Lee, Jessie Lee! I am so glad of a little rest from all that sort of thing: a'n't you?"

"I never was persecuted with it like you, fair lady, remember that,"

replied Jessie, demurely.

"Hypocrite! don't attempt to deceive me; I had eyes at the sea-side."

"And very beautiful ones they were--everybody agreed in that."

"There it is!" cried the widow, lifting her hands in affected horror; "when gentlemen are absent, ladies will flatter each other. Pray, put a stop to this, Miss,----"

"Miss Hyde," I said, rather tired of these trivialities; "but Jessie, in the eagerness of her welcome, forgets that our guest has scarcely time to prepare for dinner."

"Ah! is it so late?" said Mrs. Dennison.

"Shall I show the way to your chamber?"

"We will all go," said Jessie, circling her friend's waist with her arm and moving off.

We crossed the hall, a broad, open pa.s.sage, furnished with easy-chairs and sofas, for it was a favorite resort for the whole family, and opened into a square balcony at one end, which commanded one of the heavenly views I have spoken of. The widow stopped to admire it an instant, and then we entered the room I had been careful to arrange pleasantly for her reception.

It was a square, pleasant chamber, which commanded a splendid prospect from the east; curtains like frostwork, and a bed like snow, harmonized pleasantly with walls hung with satin paper of a delicate blue, and fine India matting with which the floor was covered. We had placed vases and baskets of flowers on the deep window-sills, those of the richest fragrance we could find, which a soft, pure wind wafted through the room; the couch, the easy-chair, and the low dressing-chair were draped with delicate blue chintz, with a pattern of wild roses running over it.

Mrs. Dennison made a pretty exclamation of surprise as she entered the room. She was full of these graceful flatteries, that proved the more effective because of their seeming spontaneousness. She took off her bonnet, and, sitting down before the toilet which stood beneath the dressing-gla.s.s, a cloud of lace and embroidery, began to smooth her hair between both hands, laughing at its disorder, and wondered if anybody on earth ever looked so hideous as she did.

"This woman," I said, in uncharitable haste,--"this woman is insatiable.

She is not content with the flattery of one s.e.x, but challenges it from all." Yet, spite of myself, I could not resist the influence of her sweet voice and graceful ways; she interested me far more than I wished.

"Now," said Jessie, coming into the hall with her eyes sparkling pleasantly,--"now what do you think? Have I praised her too much? Are you beginning to like her yet?"

I kissed her, but gave no other answer. A vague desire to s.h.i.+eld her from that woman's influence possessed me, but the feeling was misty, and had no reasonable foundation. I could not have explained why this impulse of protection sprung up in my heart, or how Jessie, the dear girl, guessed at its existence.

But she was perfectly content with the approval which my kiss implied, and went into the parlor to await the coming of her guest. That moment Mrs. Lee's maid came down with a message from her mistress, and I went up-stairs at once.

CHAPTER IX.

FANCIES AND PREMONITIONS.

It seemed a wonder that Mrs. Lee ever could have been a beautiful woman like her daughter, for she had faded sadly during her illness. Her hair was still thick and long, but the mountain snow was not whiter. Her face, too, was of opaque paleness; while her delicate eyebrows were black as jet; and the large eyes beneath them had lost nothing of their penetrating brightness.

Mrs. Lee was lying on the couch, in the light of a broad window which opened to the south; the balcony was as usual filled with plants, and every morning her couch was moved, and the window drapery put back that she might command some feature in the landscape over which her eye had not wearied the day before. It was a harmless enjoyment, and one which the whole family loved to encourage. Indeed, there was not a fancy or caprice of hers which was ever questioned in that house.

"Ah, Martha, it is you; I am glad of it. For when I am ill at ease, you always do me good."

She held out her little thin hand while speaking, and pressed mine almost imperceptibly.

"What has happened, Martha? During the last half hour something oppresses me, as if the atmosphere were disturbed; yet it is a clear day, and the roses on the terrace look brighter than usual."

"Nothing has happened, dear lady. Mr. Lee has come back from town, bringing the lady we all expected."

"Mrs. Dennison?"

"Yes, Mrs. Dennison. She has just gone to her room."

Mrs. Lee closed her eyes a moment and opened them with a faint smile, which seemed to ask pardon for some weakness.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes. I was in the parlor when she came, and went with her to her room."

"And you like her better than at first, I hope?"

I hesitated.

"She is beautiful!"