CHAPTER XIV. NIPPED IN THE BUD
ON the evening of Fan's visit, Polly sat down before her fire with aresolute and thoughtful aspect. She pulled her hair down, turned herskirt back, put her feet on the fender, and took Puttel into her lap,all of which arrangements signified that something very important hadgot to be thought over and settled. Polly did not soliloquize aloud,as heroines on the stage and in books have a way of doing, but theconversation she held with herself was very much like this: "I'm afraidthere is something in it. I've tried to think it's nothing but vanityor imagination, yet I can't help seeing a difference, and feeling as ifI ought not to pretend that I don't. I know it's considered proper forgirls to shut their eyes and let things come to a crisis no matter howmuch mischief is done. But I don't think it's doing as we'd be doneby, and it seems a great deal more honest to show a man that you don'tlove him before he has entirely lost his heart. The girls laughed at mewhen I said so, and they declared that it would be a very improper thingto do, but I've observed that they don't hesitate to snub'ineligibleparties,' as they call poor, very young, or unpopular men. It's allright then, but when a nice person comes it's part of the fun to lethim go on to the very end, whether the girls care for him or not. Themore proposals, the more credit. Fan says Trix always asks when shecomes home after the summer excursions, 'How many birds have youbagged?' as if men were partridges. What wicked creatures we are! someof us at least. I wonder why such a love of conquest was put into us?Mother says a great deal of it is owing to bad education nowadays, butsome girls seem born for the express purpose of making trouble and wouldmanage to do it if they lived in a howling wilderness. I'm afraid I'vegot a spice of it, and if I had the chance, should be as bad as any ofthem. I've tried it and liked it, and maybe this is the consequence ofthat night's fun."
Here Polly leaned back and looked up at the little mirror over thechimney-piece, which was hung so that it reflected the faces of thoseabout the fire. In it Polly saw a pair of telltale eyes looking out froma tangle of bright brown hair, cheeks that flushed and dimpled suddenlyas the fresh mouth smiled with an expression of conscious power, halfproud, half ashamed, and as pretty to see as the coquettish gesture withwhich she smoothed back her curls and flourished a white hand. Fora minute she regarded the pleasant picture while visions of girlishromances and triumphs danced through her head, then she shook her hairall over her face and pushed her chair out of range of the mirror,saying, with a droll mixture of self-reproach and self-approval in hertone; "Oh, Puttel, Puttel, what a fool I am!"
Puss appeared to endorse the sentiment by a loud purr and a gracefulwave of her tail, and Polly returned to the subject from which theselittle vanities had beguiled her.
"Just suppose it is true, that he does ask me, and I say yes! What astir it would make, and what fun it would be to see the faces of thegirls when it came out! They all think a great deal of him because he isso hard to please, and almost any of them would feel immensely flatteredif he liked them, whether they chose to marry him or not. Trix has triedfor years to fascinate him, and he can't bear her, and I'm so glad!What a spiteful thing I am. Well, I can't help it, she does aggravate meso!" And Polly gave the cat such a tweak of the ear that Puttel bouncedout of her lap in high dudgeon.
"It don't do to think of her, and I won't!" said Polly to herself,setting her lips with a grim look that was not at all becoming. "Whatan easy life I should have plenty of money, quantities of friends,all sorts of pleasures, and no work, no poverty, no cold shoulders orpatched boots. I could do so much for all at home how I should enjoythat!" And Polly let her thoughts revel in the luxurious future herfancy painted. It was a very bright picture, but something seemedamiss with it, for presently she sighed and shook her head, thinkingsorrowfully, "Ah, but I don't love him, and I'm afraid I never can asI ought! He's very good, and generous, and wise, and would be kind,I know, but somehow I can't imagine spending my life with him; I'mso afraid I should get tired of him, and then what should I do? PollySydney don't sound well, and Mrs. Arthur Sydney don't seem to fit me abit. Wonder how it would seem to call him 'Arthur'?" And Polly said itunder her breath, with a look over her shoulder to be sure no one heardit. "It's a pretty name, but rather too fine, and I should n't dareto say 'Syd,' as his sister does. I like short, plain, home-like names,such as Will, Ned, or Tom. No, no, I can never care for him, and it'sno use to try!" The exclamation broke from Polly as if a suddentrouble had seized her, and laying her head down on her knees, she satmotionless for many minutes.
When she looked up, her face wore an expression which no one had everseen on it before; a look of mingled pain and patience, as if some losshad come to her, and left the bitterness of regret behind.
"I won't think of myself, or try to mend one mistake by making another,"she said with a heavy sigh. "I'll do what I can for Fan, and not standbetween her and a chance of happiness. Let me see, how can I begin? Iwon't walk with him any more; I'll dodge and go roundabout ways, sothat we can't meet. I never had much faith in the remarkable coincidenceof his always happening home to dinner just as I go to give the Rothstheir lesson. The fact is, I like to meet him, I am glad to be seen withhim, and put on airs, I dare say, like a vain goose as I am. Well, Iwon't do it any more, and that will spare Fan one affliction. Poor dear,how I must have worried her all this time, and never guessed it. She hasn't been quite as kind as ever; but when she got sharp, I fancied it wasdyspepsia. Oh, me! I wish the other trouble could be cured as easily asthis."
Here puss showed an amiable desire to forgive and forget, and Pollytook her up, saying aloud: "Puttel, when missis abuses you, play it'sdyspepsia, and don't bear malice, because it's a very trying disease,my dear."
Then, going back to her thoughts, she rambled on again; "If he doesn't take that hint, I will give him a stronger one, for I will not havematters come to a crisis, though I can't deny that my wicked vanitystrongly tempts me to try and'bag a bird' just for the excitement andcredit of the thing. Polly, I'm ashamed of you! What would your blessedmother say to hear such expressions from you? I'd write and tell herall the worry, only it would n't do any good, and would only troubleher. I've no right to tell Fan's secrets, and I'm ashamed to tellmine. No, I'll leave mother in peace, and fight it out alone. I dothink Fan would suit him excellently by and by. He has known her all herlife, and has a good influence over her. Love would do so much towardmaking her what she might be; it's a shame to have the chance lost justbecause he happens to see me. I should think she'd hate me; but I'llshow her that she need n't, and do all I can to help her; for she hasbeen so good to me nothing shall ever make me forget that. It is adelicate and dangerous task, but I guess I can manage it; at any rateI'll try, and have nothing to reproach myself with if things do go'contrary.'"
What Polly thought of, as she lay back in her chair, with her eyes shut,and a hopeless look on her face, is none of our business, though wemight feel a wish to know what caused a tear to gather slowly from timeto time under her lashes, and roll down on Puttel's Quaker-colored coat.Was it regret for the conquest she relinquished, was it sympathy for herfriend, or was it an uncontrollable overflow of feeling as she read somesad or tender passage of the little romance which she kept hidden awayin her own heart?
On Monday, Polly began the "delicate and dangerous task." Insteadof going to her pupils by way of the park and the pleasant streetsadjoining, she took a roundabout route through back streets, and thusescaped Mr. Sydney, who, as usual, came home to dinner very early thatday and looked disappointed because he nowhere saw the bright facein the modest bonnet. Polly kept this up for a week, and by carefullyavoiding the Shaws' house during calling hours, she saw nothing ofMr. Sydney, who, of course, did n't visit her at Miss Mills'. Minniehappened to be poorly that week and took no lesson, so Uncle Syd wasdeprived of his last hope, and looked as if his allowance of sunshinehad been suddenly cut off.
Now, as Polly was by no means a perfect creature, I am free to confessthat the old temptation assailed her more than once that week, for, whenthe first e
xcitement of the dodging reform had subsided, she missed thepleasant little interviews that used to put a certain flavor of romanceinto her dull, hard-working days. She liked Mr. Sydney very much, forhe had always been kind and friendly since the early times when he hadtreated the little girl with a courtesy which the young woman gratefullyremembered. I don't think it was his wealth, accomplishments, orposition that most attracted Polly, though these doubtless possesseda greater influence than she suspected. It was that indescribablesomething which women are quick to see and feel in men who have beenblessed with wise and good mothers. This had an especial charm to Polly,for she soon found that this side of his character was not shown toevery one. With most girls, he was very like the other young men of hisset, except perhaps in a certain grace of manner which was as natural tohim as his respect for all womankind. But with Fanny and Polly he showedthe domestic traits and virtues which are more engaging to womanly womenthan any amount of cool intellect or worldly wisdom.
Polly had seen a good deal of him during her visits at the Shaws', wherehe was intimate, owing to the friendship between Madam and his mother;but she had never thought of him as a possible lover for either Fannyor herself because he was six or eight years older than they, and stillsometimes assumed the part of a venerable mentor, as in the early days.Lately this had changed, especially towards Polly, and it flattered hermore than she would confess even to herself. She knew he admired her onetalent, respected her independence, and enjoyed her society; but whensomething warmer and more flattering than admiration, respect, orpleasure crept into his manner, she could not help seeing that one ofthe good gifts of this life was daily coming more and more within herreach, and began to ask herself if she could honestly receive the gift,and reward the giver.
At first she tried to think she could, but unfortunately hearts areso "contrary" that they won't be obedient to reason, will, or evengratitude. Polly felt a very cordial friendship for Mr. Sydney, but notone particle of the love which is the only coin in which love can betruly paid. Then she took a fancy into her head that she ought toaccept this piece of good fortune for the sake of the family, and forgetherself. But this false idea of self-sacrifice did not satisfy, for shewas not a fashionable girl trained to believe that her first duty wasto make "a good match" and never mind the consequences, though theyrendered her miserable for life. Polly's creed was very simple: "IfI don't love him, I ought not to marry him, especially when I do lovesomebody else, though everything is against me." If she had read asmany French novels as some young ladies, she might have considered itinteresting to marry under the circumstances and suffer a secret anguishto make her a romantic victim. But Polly's education had been neglected,and after a good deal of natural indecision she did what most women doin such cases, thought she would "wait and see."
The discovery of Fanny's secret seemed to show her something to do, forif the "wait and see" decision was making her friend unhappy, it must bechanged as soon as possible. This finished Polly's indecision, andafter that night she never allowed herself to dwell upon the pleasanttemptation which came in a guise particularly attractive to a young girlwith a spice of the old Eve in her composition. So day after day shetrudged through the dull back streets, longing for the sunny park, theface that always brightened when it saw her coming, and most of all thechance of meeting well, it was n't Trix.
When Saturday came, Polly started as usual for a visit to Becky andBess, but could n't resist stopping at the Shaws' to leave a littleparcel for Fan, though it was calling time. As she stepped in, meaningto run up for a word if Fanny should chance to be alone, two hats on thehall table arrested her.
"Who is here, Katy?"
"Only Mr. Sydney and Master Tom. Won't you stop a bit, Miss Polly?"
"Not this morning, I'm rather in a hurry." And away went Polly as if adozen eager pupils were clamoring for her presence. But as the door shutbehind her she felt so left out in the cold, that her eyes filled,and when Nep, Tom's great Newfoundland, came blundering after her, shestopped and hugged his shaggy head, saying softly, as she looked intothe brown, benevolent eyes, full of almost human sympathy: "Now, goback, old dear, you must n't follow me. Oh, Nep, it's so hard to putlove away when you want it very much and it is n't right to take it."A foolish little speech to make to a dog, but you see Polly was only atender-hearted girl, trying to do her duty.
"Since he is safe with Fanny, I may venture to walk where I like. It's such a lovely day, all the babies will be out, and it always does megood to see them," thought Polly, turning into the wide, sunny street,where West End-dom promenaded at that hour.
The babies were out in full force, looking as gay and delicate and sweetas the snow-drops, hyacinths, and daffodils on the banks whence thesnow had melted. But somehow the babies did n't do Polly the good sheexpected, though they smiled at her from their carriages, and kissedtheir chubby hands as she passed them, for Polly had the sort of facethat babies love. One tiny creature in blue plush was casting despairingglances after a very small lord of creation who was walking away witha toddling belle in white, while a second young gentleman in gorgeouspurple gaiters was endeavoring to console the deserted damsel.
"Take hold of Master Charley's hand, Miss Mamie, and walk pretty, likeWilly and Flossy," said the maid.
"No, no, I want to do wid Willy, and he won't let me. Do'way, Tarley, Idon't lite you," cried little Blue-bonnet, casting down her ermine muffand sobbing in a microscopic handkerchief, the thread-lace edging onwhich could n't mitigate her woe, as it might have done that of an oldersufferer.
"Willy likes Flossy best, so stop crying and come right along, younaughty child."
As poor little Dido was jerked away by the unsympathetic maid, andPurple-gaiters essayed in vain to plead his cause, Polly said toherself, with a smile and a sigh; "How early the old story begins!"
It seemed as if the spring weather had brought out all manner of tenderthings beside fresh grass and the first dandelions, for as she went downthe street Polly kept seeing different phases of the sweet old storywhich she was trying to forget.
At a street corner, a black-eyed school-boy was parting froma rosy-faced school-girl, whose music roll he was reluctantlysurrendering.
"Don't you forget, now," said the boy, looking bashfully into the brighteyes that danced with pleasure as the girl blushed and smiled, andanswered reproachfully; "Why, of course I shan't!"
"That little romance runs smoothly so far; I hope it may to the end,"said Polly heartily as she watched the lad tramp away, whistling asblithely as if his pleasurable emotions must find a vent, or endangerthe buttons on the round jacket; while the girl pranced on her owndoorstep, as if practising for the joyful dance which she had promisednot to forget.
A little farther on Polly passed a newly engaged couple whom she knew,walking arm in arm for the first time, both wearing that proud yetconscious look which is so delightful to behold upon the countenances ofthese temporarily glorified beings.
"How happy they seem; oh, dear!" said Polly, and trudged on, wonderingif her turn would ever come and fearing that it was impossible.
A glimpse of a motherly-looking lady entering a door, received by aflock of pretty children, who cast themselves upon mamma and her parcelswith cries of rapture, did Polly good; and when, a minute after shepassed a gray old couple walking placidly together in the sunshine,she felt better still, and was glad to see such a happy ending to theromance she had read all down the street.
As if the mischievous little god wished to take Polly at a disadvantage,or perhaps to give her another chance, just at that instant Mr. Sydneyappeared at her side. How he got there was never very clear to Polly,but there he was, flushed, and a little out of breath, but looking soglad to see her that she had n't the heart to be stiff and cool, as shehad fully intended to be when they met.
"Very warm, is n't it?" he said when he had shaken hands and fallen intostep, just in the old way.
"You seem to find it so." And Polly laughed, with a sudden sparkle inher eyes. She reall
y could n't help it, it was so pleasant to see himagain, just when she was feeling so lonely.
"Have you given up teaching the Roths?" asked Sydney, changing thesubject.
"No."
"Do you go as usual?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's a mystery to me how you get there."
"As much as it is to me how you got here so suddenly."
"I saw you from the Shaws' window and took the liberty of running afteryou by the back street," he said, laughing.
"That is the way I get to the Roths," answered Polly. She did not meanto tell, but his frankness was so agreeable she forgot herself.
"It's not nearly so pleasant or so short for you as the park."
"I know it, but people sometimes get tired of old ways and like to trynew ones."
Polly did n't say that quite naturally, and Sydney gave her a quicklook, as he asked; "Do you get tired of old friends, too, Miss Polly?"
"Not often; but" And there she stuck, for the fear of being ungratefulor unkind made her almost hope that he would n't take the hint which shehad been carefully preparing for him.
There was a dreadful little pause, which Polly broke by saying abruptly;"How is Fan?"
"Dashing, as ever. Do you know I'm rather disappointed in Fanny,for she don't seem to improve with her years," said Sydney, as if heaccepted the diversion and was glad of it.
"Ah, you never see her at her best. She puts on that dashing air beforepeople to hide her real self. But I know her better; and I assure youthat she does improve; she tries to mend her faults, though she won'town it, and will surprise you some day, by the amount of heart and senseand goodness she has got."
Polly spoke heartily now, and Sydney looked at her as if Fanny'sdefender pleased him more than Fanny's defence.
"I'm very glad to hear it, and willingly take your word for it.Everybody shows you their good side, I think, and that is why you findthe world such a pleasant place."
"Oh, but I don't! It often seems like a very hard and dismal place, andI croak over my trials like an ungrateful raven."
"Can't we make the trials lighter for you?"
The voice that put the question was so very kind, that Polly dared notlook up, because she knew what the eyes were silently saying.
"Thank you, no. I don't get more tribulation than is good for me, Ifancy, and we are apt to make mistakes when we try to dodge troubles."
"Or people," added Sydney in a tone that made Polly color up to herforehead.
"How lovely the park looks," she said, in great confusion.
"Yes, it's the pleasantest walk we have; don't you think so?" asked theartful young man, laying a trap, into which Polly immediately fell.
"Yes, indeed! It's always so refreshing to me to see a little bit ofthe country, as it were, especially at this season."
Oh, Polly, Polly, what a stupid speech to make, when you had just givenhim to understand that you were tired of the park! Not being a fool or acox-comb, Sydney put this and that together, and taking various triflesinto the account, he had by this time come to the conclusion that Pollyhad heard the same bits of gossip that he had, which linked their namestogether, that she did n't like it, and tried to show she did n't inthis way. He was quicker to take a hint than she had expected, and beingboth proud and generous, resolved to settle the matter at once, forPolly's sake as well as his own. So, when she made her last brilliantremark, he said quietly, watching her face keenly all the while; "Ithought so; well, I'm going out of town on business for several weeks,so you can enjoy your'little bit of country' without being annoyed byme."
"Annoyed? Oh, no!" cried Polly earnestly; then stopped short, notknowing what to say for herself. She thought she had a good deal ofthe coquette in her, and I've no doubt that with time and training shewould have become a very dangerous little person, but now she was fartoo transparent and straightforward by nature even to tell a white liecleverly. Sydney knew this, and liked her for it, but he took advantageof it, nevertheless by asking suddenly; "Honestly, now, would n't you gothe old way and enjoy it as much as ever, if I was n't anywhere about toset the busybodies gossiping?"
"Yes," said Polly, before she could stop herself, and then could havebitten her tongue out for being so rude. Another awful pause seemedimpending, but just at that moment a horseman clattered by with a smileand a salute, which caused Polly to exclaim, "Oh, there's Tom!" with atone and a look that silenced the words hovering on Sydney's lips, andcaused him to hold out his hand with a look which made Polly's heartflutter then and ache with pity for a good while afterward, though heonly said, "Good by, Polly."
He was gone before she could do anything but look up at him with aremorseful face, and she walked on, feeling that the first and perhapsthe only lover she would ever have, had read his answer and acceptedit in silence. She did not know what else he had read, and comfortedherself with the thought that he did not care for her very much, sincehe took the first rebuff so quickly.
Polly did not return to her favorite walk till she learned from Minniethat "Uncle" had really left town, and then she found that his friendlycompany and conversation was what had made the way so pleasant afterall. She sighed over the perversity of things in general, and croaked alittle over her trials in particular, but on the whole got over her lossbetter than she expected, for soon she had other sorrows beside her ownto comfort, and such work does a body more good than floods of regretfultears, or hours of sentimental lamentation.
She shunned Fanny for a day or two, but gained nothing by it, for thatyoung lady, hearing of Sydney's sudden departure, could not rest tillshe discovered the cause of it, and walked in upon Polly one afternoonjust when the dusk made it a propitious hour for tender confidences.
"What have you been doing with yourself lately?" asked Fanny, composingherself, with her back toward the rapidly waning light.
"Wagging to and fro as usual. What's the news with you?" answered Polly,feeling that something was coming and rather glad to have it over anddone with.
"Nothing particular. Trix treats Tom shamefully, and he bears it like alamb. I tell him to break his engagement, and not be worried so; but hewon't, because she has been jilted once and he thinks it's such a meanthing to do."
"Perhaps she'll jilt him."
"I've no doubt she will, if anything better comes along. But Trix isgetting passe, and I should n't wonder if she kept him to his word, justout of perversity, if nothing else."
"Poor Tom, what a fate!" said Polly with what was meant to be a comicalgroan; but it sounded so tragical that she saw it would n't pass, andhastened to hide the failure by saying, with a laugh, "If you call Trixpasse at twenty-three, what shall we all be at twenty-five?" "Utterlydone with, and laid upon the shelf. I feel so already, for I don't gethalf the attention I used to have, and the other night I heard Maud andGrace wondering why those old girls'did n't stay at home, and give thema chance.'"
"How is Maudie?"
"Pretty well, but she worries me by her queer tastes and notions. Sheloves to go into the kitchen and mess, she hates to study, and saidright before the Vincents that she should think it would be great fun tobe a beggar-girl, to go round with a basket, it must be so interestingto see what you'd get."
"Minnie said the other day she wished she was a pigeon so she couldpaddle in the puddles and not fuss about rubbers."
"By the way, when is her uncle coming back?" asked Fanny, who could n'twait any longer and joyfully seized the opening Polly made for her.
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Nor care, I suppose, you hard-hearted thing."
"Why, Fan, what do you mean?"
"I'm not blind, my dear, neither is Tom, and when a young gentlemancuts a call abruptly short, and races after a young lady, and is seenholding her hand at the quietest corner of the park, and then goestravelling all of a sudden, we know what it means if you don't."
"Who got up that nice idea, I should like to know?" demanded Polly, asFanny stopped for breath.
"Now don't be aff
ected, Polly, but just tell me, like a dear, has n't heproposed?"
"No, he has n't."
"Don't you think he means to?"
"I don't think he'll ever say a word to me."
"Well, I am surprised!" And Fanny drew a long breath, as if a load wasoff her mind. Then she added in a changed tone: "But don't you love him,Polly?"
"No."
"Truly?"
"Truly, Fan."
Neither spoke for a minute, but the heart of one of them beat joyfullyand the dusk hid a very happy face.
"Don't you think he cared for you, dear?" asked Fanny, presently. "Idon't mean to be prying, but I really thought he did."
"That's not for me to say, but if it is so, it's only a passing fancyand he'll soon get over it."
"Do tell me all about it; I'm so interested, and I know something hashappened, I hear it in your voice, for I can't see your face."
"Do you remember the talk we once had after reading one of MissEdgeworth's stories about not letting one's lovers come to a declarationif one did n't love them?"
"Yes."
"And you girls said it was n't proper, and I said it was honest, anyway.Well, I always meant to try it if I got a chance, and I have. Mind you,I don't say Mr. Sydney loved me, for he never said so, and never will,now, but I did fancy he rather liked me and might do more if I did n'tshow him that it was of no use."
"And you did?" cried Fanny, much excited.
"I just gave him a hint and he took it. He meant to go away before that,so don't think his heart is broken, or mind what silly tattlers say.I did n't like his meeting me so much and told him so by going anotherway. He understood, and being a gentleman, made no fuss. I dare sayhe thought I was a vain goose, and laughed at me for my pains, likeChurchill in 'Helen.'"
"No, he would n't; He'd like it and respect you for doing it. But,Polly, it would have been a grand thing for you."
"I can't sell myself for an establishment."
"Mercy! What an idea!"
"Well, that's the plain English of half your fashionable matches. I'm'odd,' you know, and prefer to be an independent spinster and teachmusic all my days."
"Ah, but you won't. You were made for a nice, happy home of your own,and I hope you'll get it, Polly, dear," said Fanny warmly, feeling sograteful to Polly, that she found it hard not to pour out all her secretat once.
"I hope I may; but I doubt it," answered Polly in a tone that made Fannywonder if she, too, knew what heartache meant.
"Something troubles you, Polly, what is it? Confide in me, as I do inyou," said Fanny tenderly, for all the coldness she had tried to hidefrom Polly, had melted in the sudden sunshine that had come to her.
"Do you always?" asked her friend, leaning forward with an irresistibledesire to win back the old-time love and confidence, too precious to beexchanged for a little brief excitement or the barren honor of "bagginga bird," to use Trix's elegant expression. Fanny understood it then,and threw herself into Polly's arms, crying, with a shower of gratefultears; "Oh, my dear! my dear! did you do it for my sake?"
And Polly held her close, saying in that tender voice of hers, "I didn't mean to let a lover part this pair of friends if I could help it."