CHAPTER IX.
PERPLEXED.
CANDACE paused for a second, surprised and hesitating; then she walkedon again. Georgie had not seemed to observe her. The other girl wasdoubtless Berry Joy, with whom she was less at ease than with anybodyelse. She felt not the least desire to confront her, and a strange manto boot; besides, Mrs. Joy must not be kept waiting.
"That looks like Berry's village cart," exclaimed Mrs. Joy, as theydrove past a side street where a little vehicle stood drawn up in theshade under the care of a natty groom. "Was that James and the cart,Wilkins?"
"Yes, ma'am, I believe it was."
"I wonder where the girls can be," continued Mrs. Joy. "At theParishes', most likely, taking afternoon tea. That's a very favoriteplace at sunset with all the young people. There is such a wide piazza,and a splendid view." Having said this, she dismissed the subject fromher mind.
They lingered so long in Thames Street, over various errands, that itwas nearly dinner-time before Candace reached home. Georgie was therebefore her; she still had her bonnet on, and was sitting on the piazzawith her mother and Gertrude, giving an account of her afternoon.
"And then we drove down to the Old Point, and called on the Parishes,"she concluded; "and, mamma, as we came away Miss Gisborne saw usfrom her window, and called out that I was to tell you thatMr.--somebody--Card--Caird--some Englishman, at all events--was comingto-morrow, and would you please be sure to lunch with her on Wednesdayand meet him?"
"Caird, the artist? yes, I know. Miss Gisborne was expecting him."
Georgie seemed to have finished her narrative. She had not said a wordabout Fort Greene.
"Now, Candace, what are your adventures?" demanded Gertrude. "It isquite exciting, after a dull afternoon on the sofa, to have you all comein and tell me what you have been about. I watched you drive away with aface like a frightened kitten."
"You would have seen me looking a great deal more frightened if you hadbeen with us at Miss Colishaw's," said Candace; and she proceeded torelate what had happened, in a quiet, demure way which was particularlyfunny, throwing in a little unconscious mimicry which made the scenereal to her audience. Miss Colishaw's grim indignation, Mrs. Joy's coolaudacity, her own compunctious helplessness,--all were indicated inturn. Before she had done, they were in fits of indignant laughter.
"Well, really, I did not think even Mrs. Joy could behave sooutrageously as that," remarked Gertrude.
"It is really too bad," said Mrs. Gray. "Miss Colishaw is one of thesalt of the earth, always working herself to death for anybody who issick or in trouble, or poorer than herself. I am afraid her feelingswere really hurt. She is sensitive about her poverty, and has a greatregard for her old family relics. I feared that there might be somemistake about her wishing to sell her china when Mrs. Joy spoke aboutit; but it is a long time since I saw the old lady, and I thought itpossible that something had occurred to make her glad of the money. I amreally shocked at Mrs. Joy."
"If only I could have seen her at the cupboard, with the yeast-pitcherin her hand, and Miss Colishaw's face!" cried Gertrude, with anotherburst of laughter. "Well, after this truly awful interview what did youdo next, Candace?"
"We drove to Coddington's Cove, and then we came back to WashingtonStreet, and Mrs. Joy told me about the old houses; and then she stoppedthe carriage by old Fort Greene, and I went down to the shore to look atit."
"Did you?" said Georgie with sudden interest; "why--why, Berry and Iwere there too. We ran down for a moment."
"I thought I saw you," said Candace, simply.
She was looking straight at Georgie as she spoke, and was surprised tosee her flush suddenly, and then turn as suddenly pale. Her change ofcolor was so marked that her mother could scarcely have failed to noticeit, had her attention not been for the moment occupied by Frederic, whojust brought out a note which required an answer. Gertrude was lookinganother way; only Candace noticed Georgie's unwonted emotion. Nothingmore was said about Fort Greene at the time; but a little later, whenshe was in her room smoothing her hair for dinner, Georgie tapped at thedoor.
"Cannie," she said, "I'm going to ask you not to say anything more toanybody about having seen Berry and me on Washington Street to-day."
"Certainly, I won't," replied Candace, making in her surprise one ofthose hasty promises which are so often repented of afterward; "but whynot?"
"Oh, well, there are no very important reasons; it's just that I wouldrather you wouldn't."
"Very well." But Candace felt vaguely dissatisfied with thisexplanation, and a little curious.
She thought of this promise, and of Georgie's odd manner of exacting itfrom her, as she fell asleep that night, and again the next morning; butgradually it faded from her mind, until, about ten days later, somethingoccurred to revive the remembrance. Mrs. Joy called to ask two of thegirls to drive with Berry and herself to see the polo play. Gertrudehappened to be out; so Candace fell heir to her share of the invitation.Mrs. Gray was glad to have her go. She herself did not often visit thePolo Ground, and she thought Candace would enjoy seeing a match, andthat it would be something pleasant for her to remember.
The Polo Ground is a large enclosure to the south of Spring Street, andwell out of the town. It is shut in by a high paling, built with theintention of excluding every one who does not pay for the pleasure ofwitnessing the game. Nature, however,--that free-handed dame,--hasfrustrated this precaution by providing, close to the paling, a littlerocky bluff, or rise of land, not owned by the Polo Association, whosetop commands a clear view over the fence; and on polo days this point ofvantage is usually well filled by on-lookers of an impecuniousdescription. There was quite a little crowd on the brow of "DeadheadHill," as it is called, when Mrs. Joy's carriage turned in at the gates;and she glanced that way and said, "It is really too bad about thathill!" in a dissatisfied tone, as if the enjoyment of thesenon-subscribers jarred in some way, or interfered with the pleasure forwhich she herself was forced to pay a round price.
Inside the gate appeared a large railed enclosure, with a wicket ateither end; and about this carriages full of gay people were drawn upin rows, two or three abreast. The ponies which were to be used in thegame were being led up and down on the farther side of the ground, wherewas a range of out-buildings. Presently a bell rang. There was a littleconfusion of unblanketing and mounting, and eight riders armed with longmallets rode forward. Four wore red caps, and four blue; and the twocolors ranged themselves opposite each other at the wickets. The umpiretossed a little ball into the middle of the ground, and the game began.
Candace was at first rather inclined to laugh at the riders, who were somuch too tall for their little steeds that in some cases their legsseemed in danger of hitting the ground; but before long she had becomeso interested in the game and the bold riding that she no longer feltinclined to laugh. The object of each side was to drive the ball throughits own wicket; and to effect this a great deal of both courage andskill were required, not only on the part of the horsemen, but of theponies as well. More than once all the eight seemed to be collected ina breathless tangle about and above the ball, crowding, pushing,struggling for the chance at a stroke; and in such cases the poniesseemed to divide the excitement with their masters, and fenced andcurved and described indescribably short circles, regardless of thedanger of getting a hard rap from the cruel mallets on their own poorlittle hoofs. Then, when some lucky hit sent the ball spinning acrossthe ground, it was quite beautiful to see the alacrity with which thelittle creatures, of their own accord, as it were, rushed, after it,obeying the slightest indication from rein or spur, and apparentlymeasuring the distance and the opportunities as accurately as theirriders. The beat of their small hoofs on the smooth ground was so swiftand even that it was more like a rustle than a rush. To and fro flew theball, now almost at the blue wicket, then reached and sent back in thevery nick of time by one of the red champions. Candace was so fascinatedthat she had no eyes for any one else till, turning her head byaccident, her eye lig
hted upon a face in the crowd near the carriage;and with a flash of recognition she knew that it was the stranger ofwhom she had caught that momentary glimpse at Fort Greene. Involuntarilyshe glanced at Berry Joy and Georgie, and perceived that the former hadseen the man also and was trying to look as if she had not seen him,while the latter was honestly unconscious. There was something odd aboutthe man's manner, which kept Candace's attention fixed. He seemed to bestanding carelessly among other spectators watching the game, and yet bya series of dexterous movements and small shiftings of position he wasgradually edging toward the carriage. Presently a forward step moredecided than the rest brought him close to it. Georgie saw him now. Adeep color flushed her face; she lowered her parasol as if to hide it.
"I believe you dropped this, madam," said the man, stooping suddenly asif to pick something up from the ground, and handing to Berry whatseemed to be a note.
"Oh, thanks!" said Berry, in a confused voice, quite different from herordinary voice.
The stranger raised his hat formally, and moved aside.
"What was that?" asked Mrs. Joy, who had been watching the game and hadseen nothing of this by-play. "Did you drop something, Berry?"
"Only a note from Julia Prime," answered Berry, slipping the paper inher pocket.
"It was very civil of that person, whoever he was," said Mrs. Joy,unsuspiciously.
Berry and Georgie exchanged looks. Candace was at a loss what to think.
There are few better keepers of secrets than shy people. They do not letthings out by accident, as talkative persons do; it is easier for themto be silent than to talk, to keep counsel than to betray it. But apartfrom being shy, Candace's instincts were honorable. She had a lady-likedistaste of interfering with other people's affairs or seeming to pryinto them. She said not a word to any one about this matter of the PoloGround, and she tried not to think about it; although it was not inhuman nature not to feel a little curiosity, and she caught herselfobserving Georgie rather more than usual, though without intending it.
This quickened observation showed her two things: first, that Georgiehad something on her mind; and secondly, that she was determined not toshow it. She laughed and talked rather more than was her custom; and ifthe laughter was a little forced, no one else seemed to find it out.There were times when Candace almost persuaded herself that the wholething was the effect of her own imagination, which had exaggeratedsomething that was perfectly commonplace into importance simply becauseshe did not understand it; and then again she doubted, and was sure thatGeorgie was not like her usual self.
So another week went by, and brought them to September. There was nosign of autumn as yet. Every leaf was as green and fresh on its bough,every geranium as bright on its stalk, as if summer were just beginninginstead of just ended. But with the presage which sends the birdsouthward long before the cold is felt, and teaches the caterpillar toroll its cocoon and the squirrel to make ready its winter's nest andstore of nuts, the gay summer crowd began to melt away. Every daybrought a lessened list of arrivals at the hotels; and already there wasthat sense of a season over and done with and about to be laid up andshelved for the winter, which all watering-places know so well, andwhich is as a nipping frost to the hopes of landlords and letters oflodgings. Just why "Finis" should be written so early on the fair pageof the Newport season, it is hard to explain; for, charming as is thesummer, September and October are more charming still, and nowhere doesthe later autumn exhibit a more indulgent mood, holding back the wintertill the last possible moment, and sometimes coaxing summer to aid andabet with supplies of greenery and flowers, till the New Year comes toput an end to the merry game.
Mr. Gray began to go to town in the Sunday-night boat for two or threedays of business, though he still spent the larger half of the week inNewport. Marian was sent to Lenox for a week's visit to an aunt. Thefamily seemed very small now; and when Mrs. Gray one Monday morningannounced her intention of running up to Boston next day for the nightand taking Gertrude with her, Georgie loudly protested.
"It is really cruel of you, mamma. Cannie and I will feel like twodeserted little scraps, all alone in this big house. I do think youmight wait till papa is at home. And there's Marian coming backto-morrow night. What on earth shall we do with her all day? She willfeel dreadfully to find you gone."
"I am sorry about Marian," confessed Mrs. Gray; "but Tuesday happens tobe the best day for us on several accounts. You and Candace must beparticularly good to her, and not let her feel aggrieved or forlorn. Ihave ordered the breakfasts and luncheons and dinner for to-morrow andWednesday, so you will have no housekeeping to trouble you, and we shallbe back at six o'clock, you know. Two days are but a short time, afterall. You might ask a couple of girls to dine with you to-morrow,--anyone you like."
But Georgie seemed out of spirits. She was dull and dreamy, and said shedidn't care to invite anybody,--she would rather have a nice lazy timeby themselves, if Candace liked it just as well. Candace, who had madeup her mind to the inevitable Berry Joy, was glad to be let off; so shespent a very quiet day, for Georgie went to her room as soon as lunchwas over, to lie down, as she said, and sleep off a little headache, andCandace was left alone till nearly dinner-time.
Marian's arrival from the train brought a little stir and variety; butit was not of the most pleasurable kind, for she was so disappointed andindignant at finding her mother absent, that till the first sharp stingof vexation had abated, nothing could be got out of her but sobs andbroken words of complaint. Even when she grew calmer, things were stillrather melancholy; for she was too tired and depressed for speech, andjust sat in silence, leaning her head against Candace's shoulder untilbedtime. Nor did Georgie and Candace find much to say to each otherafter she had departed. Georgie remarked, rather peevishly, that Marianwas a most cross, tiresome child sometimes, and Candace said, "Yes, poorlittle thing! but she was really very tired this time, as well ascross;" then each took a book and read to herself till ten o'clock, whenthey separated with a brief good-night. It was a great contrast to theusual bright, cheerful evenings of the household; and Cannie, as sheundressed, was conscious of being low-spirited. "Homesick" she wouldhave called it; but the phrase did not justly express her mood, for evenon that dull evening I am very sure that she did not pine for Aunt Myra,or for the North Tolland farm-house, which was the only place she hadever called by the name of home.
The next day opened more brightly. Marian was asked to lunch with theFrewens, who were her favorite friends; and her absence was something ofa relief to the others. Georgie and Candace did their little morningtasks, not forgetting the arrangement of the fresh flowers, whichusually fell to Gertrude's share; then Georgie sat down to practise, andCandace settled herself in a deep cushioned chair in the library withMotley's "Dutch Republic," which she was reading for the first time. Itwas the chapter on the siege of Leyden; and the wild, fantastic nocturneby Chopin which Georgie was playing, seemed to blend and mix itself withthe tragic narrative. Candace did not know how long the reading and themusic had been going on, each complementing the other. She was soabsorbed in her book as not to heed the sound of the bell or Frederic'snoiseless tread as he crossed the hall to answer it; but she roused fromher absorption as the nocturne came suddenly to an end with a crash ofstartled chords, and Georgie's hands fell from the keys, at the sight ofBerry Joy, who came hurriedly in at the door. Candace in her corner wasinvisible.
"Oh, Georgie, that dreadful creature is here again," she heard Berrysay, while Georgie answered with a little despairing cry, "Not really!oh, Berry, what shall we do?" Then came a long whispered confabulation;then another tinkle at the door-bell.
"Frederic, I am engaged," Georgie called out.--"Come upstairs, Berry. Ifwe stay here, some one is certain to break in." The two rushed acrossthe hall. Candace heard their rapid steps on the stairs; then Georgie'sdoor shut with a bang, and all was still.
Her book dropped into her lap unheeded. Her mind was full of puzzledamazement. Who was the "dreadful creature," and what _d
id_ it all mean?
The silence in the house was unbroken except by the tick-tick of thetall clock. It made her nervous at last, and she went out on the lawn toget rid of the sensation. She picked a few flowers, pulled the seed-podsfrom one of the geraniums under her care, and spent some minutes inpetting and fondling Marian's pretty colly, who lay stretched outluxuriously in the full rays of the mild September sunshine. Then shecaught a glimpse of Berry's figure passing out of the gate, and wentback to the house. The drawing-room was empty. Motley lay on the floorwhere she had dropped him. She picked up the volume, and slowly mountedthe stairs. As she passed through the upper entry she heard a sound fromthe morning-room; was it a sob? Candace gently approached the door.Again the sound came, an unmistakable sob; and looking in she sawGeorgie, lying on her mother's sofa with her face hidden, sobbing as ifher heart would break, and saying over and over to herself in a voicewhich was like a moan, "What shall I do? oh, what shall I do?"