CHAPTER XVIII. THE WOMAN WHO DID NOT DARE
POLLY wrote enthusiastically, Ned answered satisfactorily, and aftermuch corresponding, talking, and planning, it was decided that Tomshould go West. Never mind what the business was; it suffices to saythat it was a good beginning for a young man like Tom, who, having beenborn and bred in the most conservative class of the most conceited cityin New England, needed just the healthy, hearty, social influences ofthe West to widen his views and make a man of him.
Of course there was much lamentation among the women, but every one feltit was the best thing for him; so while they sighed they sewed, packedvisions of a brilliant future away with his new pocket handkerchiefs,and rejoiced that the way was open before him even in the act ofbedewing his boots with tears. Sydney stood by him to the last, "likea man and a brother" (which expression of Tom's gave Fanny infinitesatisfaction), and Will felt entirely consoled for Ned's disappointmentat his refusal to go and join him, since Tom was to take the place Nedhad kept for him.
Fortunately every one was so busy with the necessary preparations thatthere was no time for romance of any sort, and the four young peopleworked together as soberly and sensibly as if all sorts of emotions werenot bottled up in their respective hearts. But in spite of the silence,the work, and the hurry, I think they came to know one another betterin that busy little space of time than in all the years that had gonebefore, for the best and bravest in each was up and stirring, andthe small house was as full of the magnetism of love and friendship,self-sacrifice and enthusiasm, as the world outside was full of springsunshine and enchantment. Pity that the end should come so soon, but thehour did its work and went its way, leaving a clearer atmosphere behind,though the young folks did not see it then, for their eyes were dimbecause of the partings that must be.
Tom was off to the West; Polly went home for the summer; Maud wastaken to the seaside with Belle; and Fanny left alone to wrestle withhousekeeping, "help," and heartache. If it had not been for two things,I fear she never would have stood a summer in town, but Sydney oftencalled, till his vacation came, and a voluminous correspondence withPolly beguiled the long days. Tom wrote once a week to his mother, butthe letters were short and not very satisfactory, for men never dotell the interesting little things that women best like to hear. Fannyforwarded her bits of news to Polly. Polly sent back all the extractsfrom Ned's letters concerning Tom, and by putting the two reportstogether, they gained the comfortable assurance that Tom was well, ingood spirits, hard at work, and intent on coming out strong in spite ofall obstacles.
Polly had a quiet summer at home, resting and getting ready in mind andbody for another winter's work, for in the autumn she tried her planagain, to the satisfaction of her pupils and the great joy of herfriends. She never said much of herself in her letters, and Fanny'sfirst exclamation when they met again, was an anxious "Why, Polly, dear!Have you been sick and never told me?"
"No, I'm only tired, had a good deal to do lately, and the dull weathermakes me just a trifle blue. I shall soon brighten up when I get to mywork again," answered Polly, bustling about to put away her things.
"You don't look a bit natural. What have you been doing to your preciouslittle self?" persisted Fanny, troubled by the change, yet finding ithard to say wherein it lay.
Polly did not look sick, though her cheeks were thinner and her colorpaler than formerly, but she seemed spiritless, and there was a tiredlook in her eyes that went to Fanny's heart.
"I'm all right enough, as you'll see when I'm in order. I'm properglad to find you looking so well and happy. Does all go smoothly, Fan?"asked Polly, beginning to brush her hair industriously.
"Answer me one question first," said Fanny, looking as if a sudden fearhad come over her. "Tell me, truly, have you never repented of your hintto Sydney?"
"Never!" cried Polly, throwing back the brown veil behind which she hadhalf hidden her face at first.
"On your honor, as an honest girl?"
"On my honor, as anything you please. Why do you suspect me of it?"demanded Polly, almost angrily.
"Because something is wrong with you. It's no use to deny it, for you've got the look I used to see in that very glass on my own face when Ithought he cared for you. Forgive me, Polly, but I can't help saying it,for it is there, and I want to be as true to you as you were to me if Ican."
Fanny's face was full of agitation, and she spoke fast and frankly, forshe was trying to be generous and found it very hard. Polly understoodnow and put her fear at rest by saying almost passionately, "I tell youI don't love him! If he was the only man in the world, I would n't marryhim, because I don't want to."
The last three words were added in a different tone, for Polly hadchecked herself there with a half-frightened look and turned away tohide her face behind her hair again.
"Then if it's not him, it's some one else. You've got a secret,Polly, and I should think you might tell it, as you know mine," saidFanny, unable to rest till everything was told, for Polly's mannertroubled her.
There was no answer to her question, but she was satisfied and puttingher arm round her friend, she said, in her most persuasive tone, "Myprecious Polly, do I know him?"
"You have seen him."
"And is he very wise, good, and splendid, dear?"
"No."
"He ought to be if you love him. I hope he is n't bad?" cried Fan,anxiously, still holding Polly, who kept her head obstinately turned.
"I'm suited, that's enough."
"Oh, please just tell me one thing more. Don't he love back again?"
"No. Now don't say another word, I can't bear it!" and Polly drewherself away, as she spoke in a desperate sort of tone.
"I won't, but now I'm not afraid to tell you that I think, I hope, Ido believe that Sydney cares a little for me. He's been very kind to usall, and lately he has seemed to like to see me always when he comesand miss me if I'm gone. I did n't dare to hope anything, till Papaobserved something in his manner, and teased me about it. I try not todeceive myself, but it does seem as if there was a chance of happinessfor me."
"Thank heaven for that!" cried Polly, with the heartiest satisfaction inher voice. "Now come and tell me all about it," she added, sitting downon the couch with the air of one who has escaped a great peril.
"I've got some notes and things I want to ask your opinion about, ifthey really mean anything, you know," said Fanny, getting out a bundleof papers from the inmost recesses of her desk. "There's a photographof Tom, came in his last letter. Good, is n't it? He looks older, butthat's the beard and the rough coat, I suppose. Dear old fellow, he isdoing so well I really begin to feel quite proud of him."
Fan tossed her the photograph, and went on rummaging for a certain note.She did not see Polly catch up the picture and look at it with hungryeyes, but she did hear something in the low tone in which Polly said,"It don't do him justice," and glancing over her shoulder, Fan's quickeye caught a glimpse of the truth, though Polly was half turned awayfrom her. Without stopping to think, Fan dropped her letters, took Pollyby the shoulders, and cried in a tone full of astonishment, "Polly, isit Tom?"
Poor Polly was so taken by surprise, that she had not a word to say.None were needed; her telltale face answered for her, as well as theimpulse which made her hide her head in the sofa cushion, like a foolishostrich when the hunters are after it.
"Oh, Polly, I am so glad! I never thought of it you are so good, and he's such a wild boy, I can't believe it but it is so dear of you to carefor him."
"Could n't help it tried not to but it was so hard you know, Fan, youknow," said a stifled voice from the depths of the very fuzzy cushionwhich Tom had once condemned.
The last words, and the appealing hand outstretched to her, told Fannythe secret of her friend's tender sympathy for her own love troubles,and seemed so pathetic, that she took Polly in her arms, and cried overher, in the fond, foolish way girls have of doing when their hearts arefull, and tears can say more than tongues. The silence never lasts long,how
ever, for the feminine desire to "talk it over" usually gets thebetter of the deepest emotion. So presently the girls were hard atit, Polly very humble and downcast, Fanny excited and overflowing withcuriosity and delight.
"Really my sister! You dear thing, how heavenly that will be," shecried.
"It never will be," answered Polly in a tone of calm despair.
"What will prevent it?"
"Maria Bailey," was the tragic reply.
"What do you mean? Is she the Western girl? She shan't have Tom; I'llkill her first!"
"Too late, let me tell you is that door shut, and Maud safe?"
Fanny reconnoitered, and returning, listened breathlessly, while Pollypoured into her ear the bitter secret which was preying on her soul.
"Has n't he mentioned Maria in his letters?"
"Once or twice, but sort of jokingly, and I thought it was only somelittle flirtation. He can't have time for much of that fun, he's sobusy."
"Ned writes good, gossipy letters I taught him how and he tells me allthat's going on. When he'd spoken of this girl several times (theyboard with her mother, you know), I asked about her, quite carelessly,and he told me she was pretty, good, and well educated, and he thoughtTom was rather smitten. That was a blow, for you see, Fan, since Trixbroke the engagement, and it was n't wrong to think of Tom, I let myselfhope, just a little, and was so happy! Now I must give it up, and now Isee how much I hoped, and what a dreadful loss it's going to be."
Two great tears rolled down Polly's cheeks, and Fanny wiped them away,feeling an intense desire to go West by the next train, wither MariaBailey with a single look, and bring Tom back as a gift to Polly.
"It was so stupid of me not to guess before. But you see Tom alwaysseems so like a boy, and you are more womanly for your age than any girlI know, so I never thought of your caring for him in that way. I knewyou were very good to him, you are to every one, my precious; and I knewthat he was fond of you as he is of me, fonder if anything, because hethinks you are perfect; but still I never dreamed of his loving you asmore than a dear friend."
"He does n't," sighed Polly.
"Well, he ought; and if I could get hold of him, he should!"
Polly clutched Fan at that, and held her tight, saying sternly, "If youever breathe a word, drop a hint, look a look that will tell him or anyone else about me, I'll yes, as sure as my name is Mary Milton I'llproclaim from the housetops that you like Ar" Polly got no further,for Fan's hand was on her mouth, and Fan's alarmed voice vehementlyprotested, "I won't! I promise solemnly I'll never say a word to amortal creature. Don't be so fierce, Polly; you quite frighten me."
"It's bad enough to love some one who don't love you, but to have themtold of it is perfectly awful. It makes me wild just to think of it. Oh,Fan, I'm getting so ill-tempered and envious and wicked, I don't knowwhat will happen to me."
"I'm not afraid for you, my dear, and I do believe things will goright, because you are so good to every one. How Tom could help adoringyou I don't see. I know he would if he had stayed at home longer afterhe got rid of Trix. It would be the making of him; but though he is mybrother, I don't think he's good enough for you, Polly, and I don'tquite see how you can care for him so much, when you might have had aperson so infinitely superior."
"I don't want a'superior' person; he'd tire me if he was like A. S.Besides, I do think Tom is superior to him in many things. Well, youneed n't stare; I know he is, or will be. He's so different, and veryyoung, and has lots of faults, I know, but I like him all the better forit, and he's honest and brave, and has got a big, warm heart, and I'drather have him care for me than the wisest, best, most accomplished manin the world, simply because I love him!"
If Tom could only have seen Polly's face when she said that! It was sotender, earnest, and defiant, that Fanny forgot the defence of her ownlover in admiration of Polly's loyalty to hers; for this faithful, allabsorbing love was a new revelation to Fanny, who was used to hearingher friends boast of two or three lovers a year, and calculate theirrespective values, with almost as much coolness as the young mendiscussed the fortunes of the girls they wished for, but "could notafford to marry." She had thought her love for Sydney very romantic,because she did not really care whether he was rich or poor, though shenever dared to say so, even to Polly, for fear of being laughed at.She began to see now what true love was, and to feel that the sentimentwhich she could not conquer was a treasure to be accepted withreverence, and cherished with devotion.
"I don't know when I began to love Tom, but I found out that I did lastwinter, and was as much surprised as you are," continued Polly, as ifglad to unburden her heart. "I did n't approve of him at all. Ithought he was extravagant, reckless, and dandified. I was very muchdisappointed when he chose Trix, and the more I thought and saw of it,the worse I felt, for Tom was too good for her, and I hated to see herdo so little for him, when she might have done so much; because he isone of the men who can be led by their affections, and the woman hemarries can make or mar him."
"That's true!" cried Fan, as Polly paused to look at the picture, whichappeared to regard her with a grave, steady look, which seemed rather tobelie her assertions.
"I don't mean that he's weak or bad. If he was, I should hate him; buthe does need some one to love him very much, and make him happy, asa good woman best knows how," said Polly, as if answering the mutelanguage of Tom's face.
"I hope Maria Bailey is all he thinks her," she added, softly, "for Icould n't bear to have him disappointed again."
"I dare say he don't care a fig for her, and you are only borrowingtrouble. What do you say Ned answered when you asked about thisinconvenient girl?" said Fanny turning hopeful all at once.
Polly repeated it, and added, "I asked him in another letter if he didn't admire Miss B. as much as Tom, and he wrote back that she was'anice girl,' but he had no time for nonsense, and I need n't get my whitekids ready for some years yet, unless to dance at Tom's wedding. Sincethen he has n't mentioned Maria, so I was sure there was somethingserious going on, and being in Tom's confidence, he kept quiet."
"It does look bad. Suppose I say a word to Tom, just inquire after hisheart in a general way, you know, and give him a chance to tell me, ifthere is anything to tell." "I'm willing, but you must let me see theletter. I can't trust you not to hint or say too much."
"You shall. I'll keep my promise in spite of everything, but it will behard to see things going wrong when a word would set it right."
"You know what will happen if you do," and Polly looked so threateningthat Fan trembled before her, discovering that the gentlest girls whenroused are more impressive than any shrew; for even turtle doves peckgallantly to defend their nests.
"If it is true about Maria, what shall we do?" said Fanny after a pause.
"Bear it; People always do bear things, somehow," answered Polly,looking as if sentence had been passed upon her.
"But if it is n't?" cried Fan, unable to endure the sight.
"Then I shall wait." And Polly's face changed so beautifully that Fanhugged her on the spot, fervently wishing that Maria Bailey never hadbeen born.
Then the conversation turned to lover number two, and after a longconfabulation, Polly gave it as her firm belief that A. S. had forgottenM. M., and was rapidly finding consolation in the regard of F. S. Withthis satisfactory decision the council ended after the ratification of aLoyal League, by which the friends pledged themselves to stand staunchlyby one another, through the trials of the coming year.
It was a very different winter from the last for both the girls. Fannyapplied herself to her duties with redoubled ardor, for "A. S." was adomestic man, and admired housewifely accomplishments. If Fanny wantedto show him what she could do toward making a pleasant home, shecertainly succeeded better than she suspected, for in spite of manyfailures and discouragements behind the scenes, the little house becamea most attractive place, to Mr. Sydney at least, for he was more thehouse-friend than ever, and seemed determined to prove that change offortune made no
difference to him.
Fanny had been afraid that Polly's return might endanger her hopes, butSydney met Polly with the old friendliness, and very soon convinced herthat the nipping in the bud process had been effectual, for being takenearly, the sprouting affection had died easy, and left room for an olderfriendship to blossom into a happier love.
Fanny seemed glad of this, and Polly soon set her heart at rest byproving that she had no wish to try her power. She kept much at homewhen the day's work was done, finding it pleasanter to sit dreaming overbook or sewing alone, than to exert herself even to go to the Shaws'.
"Fan don't need me, and Sydney don't care whether I come or not, so I'll keep out of the way," she would say, as if to excuse her seemingindolence.
Polly was not at all like herself that winter, and those nearest to hersaw and wondered at it most. Will got very anxious, she was so quiet,pale and spiritless, and distracted poor Polly by his affectionatestupidity, till she completed his bewilderment by getting cross andscolding him. So he consoled himself with Maud, who, now being in herteens, assumed dignified airs, and ordered him about in a style thatafforded him continued amusement and employment.
Western news continued vague, for Fan's general inquiries produced onlyprovokingly unsatisfactory replies from Tom, who sang the praises of"the beautiful Miss Bailey," and professed to be consumed by a hopelesspassion for somebody, in such half-comic, half-tragic terms, that thegirls could not decide whether it was "all that boy's mischief," or onlya cloak to hide the dreadful truth.
"We'll have it out of him when he comes home in the spring," said Fannyto Polly, as they compared the letters of their brothers, and agreedthat "men were the most uncommunicative and provoking animals underthe sun." For Ned was so absorbed in business that he ignored the wholeBailey question and left them in utter darkness.
Hunger of any sort is a hard thing to bear, especially when the suffererhas a youthful appetite, and Polly was kept on such a short allowance ofhappiness for six months, that she got quite thin and interesting; andoften, when she saw how big her eyes were getting, and how plainly theveins on her temples showed, indulged the pensive thought that perhapsspring dandelions might blossom o'er her grave. She had no intention ofdying till Tom's visit was over, however, and as the time drew near,she went through such alternations of hope and fear, and lived in such astate of feverish excitement, that spirits and color came back, and shesaw that the interesting pallor she had counted on would be an entirefailure.
May came at last, and with it a burst of sunshine which cheered evenpoor Polly's much-enduring heart. Fanny came walking in upon her oneday, looking as if she brought tidings of such great joy that she hardlyknew how to tell them.
"Prepare yourself somebody is engaged!" she said, in a solemn tone,that made Polly put up her hand as if to ward off an expected blow. "No,don't look like that, my poor dear; it is n't Tom, it's I!"
Of course there was a rapture, followed by one of the deliciouslyconfidential talks which bosom friends enjoy, interspersed with tearsand kisses, smiles and sighs.
"Oh, Polly, though I've waited and hoped so long I could n't believe itwhen it came, and don't deserve it; but I will! for the knowledge thathe loves me seems to make everything possible," said Fanny, with anexpression which made her really beautiful, for the first time in herlife.
"You happy girl!" sighed Polly, then smiled and added, "I think youdeserve all that's come to you, for you have truly tried to be worthyof it, and whether it ever came or not that would have been a thing tobe proud of."
"He says that is what made him love me," answered Fanny, never callingher lover by his name, but making the little personal pronoun a verysweet word by the tone in which she uttered it. "He was disappointed inme last year, he told me, but you said good things about me and thoughhe did n't care much then, yet when he lost you, and came back to me, hefound that you were not altogether mistaken, and he has watched meall this winter, learning to respect and love me better every day. Oh,Polly, when he said that, I could n't bear it, because in spite of allmy trying, I'm still so weak and poor and silly."
"We don't think so; and I know you'll be all he hopes to find you, forhe's just the husband you ought to have."
"Thank you all the more, then, for not keeping him yourself," saidFanny, laughing the old blithe laugh again.
"That was only a slight aberration of his; he knew better all the time.It was your white cloak and my idiotic behavior the night we went to theopera that put the idea into his head," said Polly, feeling as if theevents of that evening had happened some twenty years ago, when she wasa giddy young thing, fond of gay bonnets and girlish pranks.
"I'm not going to tell Tom a word about it, but keep it for a surprisetill he comes. He will be here next week, and then we'll have agrand clearing up of mysteries," said Fan, evidently feeling that themillennium was at hand.
"Perhaps," said Polly, as her heart fluttered and then sunk, for thiswas a case where she could do nothing but hope, and keep her hands busywith Will's new set of shirts.
There is a good deal more of this sort of silent suffering than theworld suspects, for the "women who dare" are few, the women who "standand wait" are many. But if work-baskets were gifted with powers ofspeech, they could tell stories more true and tender than any we read.For women often sew the tragedy or comedy of life into their work asthey sit apparently safe and serene at home, yet are thinking deeply,living whole heart-histories, and praying fervent prayers while theyembroider pretty trifles or do the weekly mending.