CHAPTER III.
THE MEETING.
But Denis Oglethorpe did not appear again for several days. Perhapsbusiness detained him; perhaps he went oftener to see Priscilla. At anyrate, he did not call again until the end of the week.
Lady Throckmorton was in her private room when he came, and as he madehis entrance with as little ceremony as usual, he ran in upon Theodora.Now, to tell the truth, he had, until this moment, forgotten all aboutthat young person's very existence. He saw so many pretty girls in aday's round, and he was so often too busy to notice half of them--thoughhe was an admirer of pretty girls--that it was nothing new to see oneand forget her, until chance threw them together again. Of course, hehad noticed Theodora North that first night. How could a man helpnoticing her? And the something beautifully over-awed and bashfullycurious in her lovely, uncommon eyes, had half amused him. And yet,until this moment, he had forgotten her, with the assistance of proofs,and printers, and Priscilla.
But when, after running lightly up the stair-case, he opened thedrawing-room door, and saw a tall, lovely figure in a closely-fittingdress of purple cloth, bending over Sabre, and stroking his huge, tawnyhead with her supple little tender hand, he remembered.
"Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, in an admiring aside. "To be sure; I hadforgotten Theodora."
But Theodora had not forgotten him. The moment she saw him she stood upblushing, and with a light in her eyes. It was odd how un-English shelooked, and yet how thoroughly English she was in that delicious,uncomfortable trick of blushing vividly upon all occasions. She wasquite unconscious of the fact that the purple cloth was so becoming, andthat its sweep of straight, heavy folds made her as stately as someRajah's dark-eyed daughter. She did not feel stately at all; she onlyfelt somewhat confused, and rather glad that Mr. Denis Oglethorpe hadsurprised her by coming again. How Mr. Denis Oglethorpe would havesmiled if he had known what an innocent commotion his simple presencecreated!
"Lady Throckmorton is up-stairs reading," she explained. "I will go andtell her you are here." There were no bells in the house at Downport,and no servants to answer if any one had rang one, and, very naturally,Theo forgot she was not at Downport.
"Excuse me. No," said Mr. Denis Oglethorpe. "I would not disturb her onany account; and, besides, I know she will be down directly. She neverreads late in the evening. This is a very handsome dog, Miss North."
"Very handsome, indeed," was Theo's reply. "Come here, Sabre."
Sabre stalked majestically to her side, and laid his head upon her knee.Theo stroked him softly, raising her eyes quite seriously to Mr.Oglethorpe's face.
"He reminds me of Sir Dugald himself," she said.
Mr. Denis Oglethorpe smiled faintly. He was not very fond of Sir Dugald,and the perfect gravity and _naivete_ with which this pretty,unsophisticated young sultana had made her comment had amounted to avery excellent joke.
"Does he?" he returned, as quietly as possible, and then his glancemeeting Theo's, she broke into a little burst of horror-strickenself-reproach.
"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "I oughtn't to have said that, ought I? Iforgot how rude it would sound; but, indeed, I only meant that Sabre wasso slow and heavy, and--and so indifferent to people, somehow. I don'tthink he cares about being liked at all."
She was so abashed at her blunder, that she looked absolutely imploring,and Mr. Denis Oglethorpe smiled again. He felt inclined to make friendswith Theodora.
"There is a little girl staying at Lady Throckmorton's," he had said toPriscilla. "A relative of hers. A pretty creature, too, Priscilla, for abread-and-butter Miss."
But just at this moment, he thought better of the matter. What tender,speechful eyes she had! He was aroused to a recognition of their beautyall at once. What contour there was in the turn of arm and shoulderunder the close-fitting purple cloth! He was artistically thankful thatthere was no other trimming of the straight bodice than the line ofbuttons that descended from the full white ruff of swansdown at herthroat, to her delicate, trim waist. Her unconscious stateliness ofgirlish form, and the conscious shyness of her manner, were theloveliest inconsistency in the world.
"Oh, I shall not tell Sir Dugald," he said to her, good-humoredly."Besides, I think the comparison an excellent one. I don't know anythingin London so like Sir Dugald as Sir Dugald's dog."
Theodora stroked Sabre, apologetically, but could scarcely find courageto speak. She had stood somewhat in awe of Mr. Denis Oglethorpe, even atfirst, and her discomfort was rapidly increasing. He must think herdreadfully stupid, though he was good-humored enough to make light ofher silly speech. Certainly Priscilla never made such a silly speech inher life; but then, how could one teach French and Latin, and beanything but ponderously discreet?
Mr. Denis Oglethorpe was not thinking of Priscilla's wisdom, however; hewas thinking of Theodora North; he was thinking that he must have beenvery blind not to have seen before that his friend's niece was a beautyof the first water, young as she was. But he had been tired and faggedout, he remembered, on the first occasion of their meeting--too tired tothink of anything but his appointment at Broome street, and Priscilla'sGreek grammar. And now in recognizing what he had before passed by, hewas quite glad to find the girl so young and inexperienced--so modest,in a sweet way. It was easy, as well as proper enough, to talk to herunceremoniously without the trouble of being diffuse and complimentary.So he made himself agreeable, and Theodora listened until she quiteforgot Sir Dugald, and only remembered Sabre, because his big heavy headwas on her knee, and she was stroking it.
"And you were never in London before?" he said at length.
"No, sir," Theo answered. "This is the first time. I was never even outof Downport before."
"Then we must take you to see the lions," he said, "if Lady Throckmortonwill let us, Miss Theodora. I wonder if she would let us? If she would,I have a lady friend who knows them all, from the grisliest, downward,and I know she would like to help me to exhibit them to you. How shouldyou like that?"
"Better than anything in the world," glowing with delighted surprise."If it wouldn't be too much trouble," she added, quite apologetically.
Mr. Denis Oglethorpe smiled.
"It would be simply delightful," he said. "I should like it better thananything in the world, too. We will appeal to Lady Throckmorton."
"When Priscilla was in London--" Theodora was beginning a minute later,when the handsome face changed suddenly as her companion turned upon herin evident surprise.
"Priscilla?" he repeated, after her.
"How stupid I am!" she ejaculated, distressedly. "I meant to say Pamela.My eldest sister's name is Pamela, and--and--"
"And you said Priscilla by mistake," interposed Oglethorpe, with asudden accession of gravity. "Priscilla is a little like Pamela."
It needed nothing more than this simple slip of Theodora North's tongueto assure him that Lady Throckmorton had been telling her the story ofhis engagement to Miss Gower, and, as might be anticipated, he was notas devoutly grateful to her ladyship as he might have been. He wascareless to a fault in some things, and punctilious to a fault inothers; and he was very punctilious about Priscilla Gower. He was not anardent lover, but he was a conscientiously honorable one, and, apartfrom his respect for his betrothed, he was very impatient ofinterference with his affairs; and my lady was not chary of interferingwhen the fancy seized her. It roused his pride to think how liberally hemust have been discussed, and, consequently, when Lady Throckmortonjoined them, he was not in the most amiable of moods. But he managed toend his conversation with Theo unconstrainedly enough. He even gainedher ladyship's consent to their plan. It was curiously plain how theyboth appeared to agree in thinking her a child, and treating her as one.Not that Theo cared about that. She had been so used to Pamela, that shewould have felt half afraid of being treated with any greater ceremony;but still she could clearly understand that Mr. Oglethorpe did not speakto her as he would have spoken to Miss Gower. But free from any touch oflight gallantry as his manner toward the
girl was, Denis Oglethorpe didnot forget her this night. On the contrary, he remembered her verydistinctly, and had in his mind a very exact mental representation ofher purple robe, soft white ruff, and all, as he buttoned up his paletotover his chest in walking homeward. But he thought of her carelessly andhonestly enough, as a beautiful young creature years behind him inexperience, and utterly beyond him in all possibility of any sentimentalfancy.
The friendship existing between Lady Throckmorton and this young man wasa queer, inconsistent sentiment enough, and yet was a friendship, and amature one. The two had encountered each other some years ago, whenDenis had been by no means in his palmiest days. In fact, my lady hadpicked him up when he stood in sore need of friends, and Oglethorpenever forgot a favor. He never forgot to be grateful to LadyThrockmorton; and so, despite the wide difference between theirrespective ages and positions, their mutual liking had ripened into afamiliarity of relationship which made them more like elder sister andyounger brother than anything else. Oglethorpe, junior, was pretty muchwhat Oglethorpe, senior, had been, and notwithstanding her practicalviews, Lady Throckmorton liked him none the worse for it. She petted andpatronized him, questioned and advised him, and if he did not pleaseher, rated him roundly without the slightest compunction. In fact, shewas a woman of caprices even at sixty-five, and Denis Oglethorpe was oneof her caprices.
And, in like manner, Theodora North became another of them. Finding hertractable, she became quite fond of her, in her own way, and was atleast generous to lavishness in her treatment of her.
"You are very handsome, indeed, Theodora," she said to her a few daysafter her arrival. "Of course, you know that--ten times handsomer thanever poor Pamela could have been. Your figure is perfect, and you haveeyes like a Syrian, instead of a commonplace English woman. I am goingto give you a rose-pink satin dress. Rose-pink is just your shade, andsome day, when we go out together, I will lend you some of my diamonds."
After this whimsical manner she lavished presents upon her whenever shehad a new fancy. In truth, her generosity was constitutional, and shehad been generous enough toward Pamela, but she had never been soextravagant as she was with Theodora. Theodora was an actual beauty, ofan uncommon type, in the face of her ignorance of manners and customs.Pamela had never, at her best, been more than a delicately pretty girl.
In the meantime, Denis Oglethorpe made friendly calls as usual, andalways meeting Theodora, found her very pleasant to talk to and look at.He found out her enthusiastic admiration for the poetic effusions of hisyouth, and in consideration thereof, good-humoredly presented her with acopy of the volume, with some very witty verses written on the fly-leafin a flourishing hand. It was worth while to amuse Theodora, she was sopretty and unassuming in her delight at his carelessly-amiable effortsfor her entertainment. She was only a mere child after all at sixteen,with Downport in the background; so he felt quite honestly at ease inbeing attentive to her girlish requirements. Better that he should amuseher than that she should be left to the mercy of men who would perhapshave the execrable taste to spoil her pretty childish ways withflattery.
"Don't let all these fine people and fine speeches turn your head,Theodora," he would say, in a tone that might either have been jest orearnest. "They spoiled me in my infancy, and my unfortunate experiencecauses me to warn you."
But whether he jested or not, Theo was always inclined to listen to himwith some degree of serious belief. She took his advice when it wasproffered, and regarded his wisdom as the wisdom of an oracle. Whoshould know better than he what was right? His indifference to the ruleof opinion could only be the result of conscious perfection, and hiscareless satires were to her the most brilliant of witticisms. He paidher his first compliment the night the rose-colored satin-dress camehome.
They were going to see Faust together with Lady Throckmorton, and shehad finished dressing early, and came down to the drawing-room, andthere Denis found her when he came up-stairs--the thick, lustrous foldsof satin billowing upon the carpet around her feet, something white, andsoft, and heavy wrapped about her.
He was conscious of a faint shock of delight on first beholding her. Hehad just left Priscilla, pale and heavy-eyed, in dun-colored merino,poring over a Greek dictionary, and the sudden entering the bright room,and finding himself facing Theodora North in rose-colored satin, was alittle like electricity.
"Oh! it's Theodora, is it?" he said, slowly, when he recovered himself."Thank you, Theodora."
"What for?" asked Theo, blushing.
"For the rose-colored satin," he returned, complacently. "It is so verybecoming. You look like a sultana, my dear Theodora."
Theo looked up at him for a second, and then looked down. Much as sheadmired Mr. Denis Oglethorpe, she never quite comprehended him. He hadsuch an eccentric fashion of being almost curt sometimes. She had seenhim actually give a faint start when he entered, and she had notunderstood that, and now he had paid her a compliment, but with so muchof something puzzling hidden in his quiet-sounding voice, that she didnot understand that either--and he saw she did not.
"I have been making a fine speech to Theodora," he said to LadyThrockmorton, when she came in. "And she does not comprehend it in theleast."
It was somewhat singular, Theo thought, that he should be so silentafter this, for he was silent. He even seemed absent-minded, for somereason or other. He did not talk to her as much as usual, and she wasquite sure he paid very little attention to Faust.
But during the final act she found that he was not looking at the stageat all; but was sitting in the shadow of the box-curtain watchingherself. She had been deeply interested in Marguerite a minute before,and, in her heart-touched pleasure, had leant upon the edge of the box,her whole face thrilled with excitement. But the steady gaze magnetizedher, and drew her eyes round to the shadowy corner where Denis sat; andshe positively turned with just such a start as he himself had givenwhen Theodora North, in rose-colored satin, burst upon him, in suchvivid, glowing contrast to Priscilla Gower, in dun merino.
"Oh!" she said, and though the little exclamation was scarcely more thanan indrawn breath, Denis heard it, and came out of his corner to take aseat at her side, and lean over the box-edge also.
"What is it, Theodora?" he asked, in a low, clear voice. "Is itMarguerite?"
She looked at him in a little fright at herself. She did not know whyshe had exclaimed--she scarcely knew how; but when she met hisunembarrassed eyes, she began to think that possibly it might beMarguerite. Indeed, a second later, she was quite sure it had beenMarguerite.
"Yes--I think so," she faltered. "Poor Marguerite! If she could onlyhave saved him?"
"How?" he asked.
"I don't--at least I scarcely know; but I think the author ought to havemade her save him, someway. If--if she could have suffered something, orsacrificed something--"
"Would she have done it if she could?" commented Denis, languidly. Hehad quite recovered himself by this time.
"I would have done it if I had been Marguerite," Theo half whispered.
In his surprise he forgot his self-possession. He turned upon hersuddenly, and meeting her sweet, world-ignorant eyes, felt the faint,pained shock once more, and strangely enough his first thought was adisconnected one of Priscilla Gower.
"You?" he said, the next moment. "Yes, I believe you would, Theodora."
He was sure she would, after that swift glance of his, and--Well, what ahappy man he would be for whom this tender young Marguerite would sufferor be sacrificed. The idea had really never occurred to him before thatTheodora North was nearly a woman; but it occurred to him now with allthe greater force, because he had been so oblivious to the fact before.
He sat by her side until the curtain fell; but his silent mood seemed tohave come upon him again. He was very much interested in Margueriteafter this, Theo thought; but it is very much to be doubted whether hecould have given a clear account of what was passing before his eyesupon the stage. He did not even go into the house with them when theyreturned; but
as he stood upon the door-step, touching his hat in afinal adieu, he was keenly alive to a consciousness of Theodora North atthe head of the stair-case, with billows of glistening rose-pink satinlying on the rich carpet about her feet, as she half turned toward himto bid him good-night.
Bright as the future was, it left a sense of discomfort, he could notexplain why. He dismissed the carriage, and walked down the street,feeling fairly depressed in spirits.
He had, perhaps, never given the girl a thought before, unless whenchance had thrown them together, and even then his thoughts had beencommon admiring ones. She had pleased him, and he had tried to amuse herin a careless, well-meant fashion, though he had never made finespeeches to her, as nine men out of ten would have done. He had been soused to Priscilla, that it never occurred to him that a girl so young asthis one could be a woman. And, after all, his blindness had not beenthe result of any frivolous lack of thought. A sharp experience had madehim as thoroughly a man of the world as a man may be; but it had notmade him callous or indifferent to the beauties of life. No one wouldever have called him emotional, or prone to enthusiasms of a weak kind,and yet he was by no means hard of heart. He had quiet fancies of hisown about people and things, and many of these reticent,rarely-expressed ideas were reverent, chivalrous ones of women. Theopposing force of a whole world could never have shaken his faith inPriscilla Gower, or touched his respect for her; but though, perhaps, hehad never understood it so, he had never felt very enthusiasticallyconcerning her. Truly, Priscilla Gower and enthusiasm were not inaccordance with each other. Chance had thrown them together when bothwere very young, and propinquity did the rest. Propinquity is thestrongest of agents in a love affair, and in Denis Oglethorpe's loveaffair, propinquity had accomplished what nothing else would have beenlikely to have done. The desperate young scribbler of twenty years hadbeen the lodger of the elder Miss Gower, and Priscilla, aged seventeen,had brought in his frugal dinners to him, and receipted his modest billson their weekly payment.
Priscilla at seventeen, silent, practical, grave and handsome, had,perhaps, softened unconsciously at the sight of his often pale face--heworked so hard and so far into the night; when at length they becamefriends, Priscilla gravely, and without any hesitation, volunteered tohelp him. She could copy well and clearly, and he could come into heraunt's room--it would save fires. So she helped him calmly anddecorously, bending her almost austerely-handsome young head over hispapers for hours on the long winter nights. It is easy to guess how thematter terminated. If ever he won success he determined to give it toPriscilla--and so he told her. He had never wavered in his faith for asecond since, though he had encountered many beautiful and womanlywomen. He had worked steadily for her sake, and shielded her from everycare that it lay within his power to lighten. He was not old MissElizabeth Gower's lodger now--he was her niece's husband in perspective.He was to marry Priscilla Gower in eight months. This was why TheodoraNorth, in glistening rose-pink satin, sent him home confronting asuddenly-raised spirit of pain. Twice, in one night, he had foundhimself feeling toward Theodora North as he had never felt towardPriscilla Gower in his life. Twice, in one night, he had turned his eyesupon this girl of sixteen, and suffered a sudden shock of enthusiasm, orsomething like it. He was startled and discomfited. She had no right towin such admiration from him--he had no right to give it.
But as his walk in the night-air cooled him, it cooled his ardor ofself-examination somewhat. His discontent was modified by the time hereached his own door, and took his latch-key out of his pocket. The facethat had looked down upon him beneath the light at the head of thestair-case, had faded into less striking color--it was only a girl'sface again. He was on better terms with himself, and his weakness seemedless formidable.
"I will keep my promise to-morrow," he said, "and Priscilla shall gowith us. Poor Priscilla!--poor girl! Rose-pink satin would scarcely bein good taste in Broome street."
The promise he had made was nothing more than a ratification of the oldone. They were to see the lions together, and Priscilla was to guidethem.
And when the morrow came, he found it, after all, safe enough, and aneasy enough matter, to tuck Theodora's small, gloved hand under his arm,when they set out on their tour of investigation and discovery. The girlwas pretty enough, too, in her soft, black merino--her "best" dress inDownport--but she was not dazzling. The little round, black-plumed hatwas becoming also; but in his now more prosaic mood, he could standthat, too, pretty as it was in an innocent, unconsciously-coquettishway. Theo was never coquettish herself in the slightest degree. She wasnot world-wise enough for that yet. But she was quite exhilaratingto-day; so glad to be out even in the London fog of November; so glad tobe taken lion-hunting; so delighted with the shops and their gaywindows; so ready to let her young tongue run on in a gay stream ofchatter, altogether so bright, and pretty, and joyous, that her escortwas fain to be delighted too.
"Guess where we are going to first?" said he. (He had not before openlyspoken of Priscilla to her.)
She glanced up into his face, brightly. She remembered what he had toldher about his lady friend.
"I don't exactly know the name of the place," she said; "but I think Iknow the name of the person we are going to see."
"Do you?" was his reply. "Then say it to me--let me hear it."
"Miss Gower," she answered, softly, in a pretty reverence for him. "MissPriscilla Gower."
He nodded, slightly, with a curious mixture of expressions in his face.
"Yes," he said. "Miss Gower, or rather Miss Priscilla Gower, as you say.Number twenty-three, Broome street; and Broome street is not afashionable locality, my dear Theodora."
"Isn't it?" queried Theo. "Why not?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Ask Lady Throckmorton," he said. "But do you know who Miss PriscillaGower is, Theodora?"
Her bright eyes crept up to his, half-timidly; but she said nothing, sohe continued.
"Miss Priscilla Gower is the young lady to whom I am to be married nextJuly. Did you know that?"
"Yes," answered Theo, looking actually pleased, and blushing beautifullyas he looked down at her. "But I am very much obliged to you for tellingme, Mr. Oglethorpe."
"Why?" he asked. It was very preposterous, that even though his mood wasso prosaic and paternal a one, he was absurdly, vacantly sensible offeeling some uneasiness at the brightness of her upturned face. Forpity's sake, why was it that he was impelled to such a puerileweakness--such a vanity, as he sternly called it.
"Because," returned Theo, "it makes me feel as if--I mean it makes mehappy to think you trust me enough to tell me about what has made youhappy. I hope--oh! I do hope Miss Priscilla Gower will like me."
He had been looking straight before him while she spoke, but thisbrought his eyes to hers again, and to her face--bright, appealing,upturned--and he found himself absolutely obliged to steady himself witha jesting speech.
"My dearest Theodora," he said. "Miss Priscilla Gower could not possiblyhelp it."
Comforting as this assurance was to her, it must be confessed she foundherself somewhat over-awed on reaching Broome street, and being takeninto the tiny, dwarfed-looking parlor of number twenty-three; MissElizabeth Gower herself was there, in her company-cap, andlong-cherished company-dress of snuff-colored satin. There were not manyshades of difference in either her snuff-colored gown, or hersnuff-colored skin, or her neat, snuff-colored false-front, Theofancied, but she was not at all afraid of her. She was a trifle afraidof Miss Priscilla. Miss Priscilla was sitting at the table reading whenthey entered, and as she rose to greet them, holding her book in onehand, the thought entered Theo's mind that she could comprehend dimlywhy Lady Throckmorton disliked her, and thought her unsuited to DenisOglethorpe. There was an absence of anything girl-like in her fine,ivory-pale face, somehow, though it was a young face and a handsomeface, at whose fine lines and clear contour even a connoisseur could nothave caviled. Its long almond-shaped, agate-gray eyes, black-fringed andlustrous as they were, s
till were silent eyes--they did not speak evento Denis Oglethorpe.
"I am glad you have come," she said, simply, extending her hand inacknowledgment of Denis's introduction. The quietness of this greetingspeech was a fair sample of all her manner. It would have been sheerlyimpossible to expect anything like effusiveness from Priscilla Gower.The most sanguine and empty-headed of mortals would never have lookedfor it in her. She was constitutionally unenthusiastic, if such a thingmay be.
But she was gravely curious in this case concerning Theodora North. Thefact that Denis had spoken of her admiringly was sufficient to arouse inher mind an interest in this young creature, who was at once, and soinconsistently, beautiful, timid, and regal, without consciousness.
"Three years more will make her something wonderful, as far as beauty isconcerned," he had said; and, accordingly, she had felt some slightpleasure in the anticipation of seeing her.
Yet Theo had some faint misgivings during the day as to whether MissPriscilla Gower would like her or not. She was at first even inclined tofear that she would not, being so very handsome, and grave, and womanly.But toward the end of their journeying together, she felt more hopeful.Reticent as she was, Priscilla Gower was a very charming young person.She talked well, and with much clear, calm sense; she laughed musicallywhen she laughed at all, and could make very telling, caustic speecheswhen occasion required; but still it was singular what a wide differencethe difference of six years made in the two girls. As Lady Throckmortonhad said, it was not a matter of age. At twenty-two Theodora North wouldoverflow with youth as joyously as she did now at seventeen; atseventeen Priscilla Gower had assisted her maiden aunt's lodger to copyhis manuscript with as mature a gravity as she would have displayedto-day.
"I hope," said Theodora, when, after their sight-seeing was over, shestood on the pavement before the door in Broome street, her nice littlehand on Denis Oglethorpe's arm, "I hope you will let me come to see youagain, Miss Gower."
Priscilla, standing upon the door-step, smiled down on her bloominggirl's face, a smile that was a little like moonlight. All Priscilla'ssmiles were like moonlight. Theo's had a delicious glow of the sun.
"Yes," she said, in her practical manner. "It will please me very muchto see you, Miss Theodora. Come as often as you can spare the time."
She watched the two as they walked down the street together, Theo'sblack feather glossy in the gaslight, as it drooped its long end againstOglethorpe's coat, and as she watched them, she noticed even this trifleof the feather, and the trifling fact that though Theo was almost regalin girlish height, she was not much taller than her companion'sshoulder. It was strange, she thought afterward, that she should havedone so; but even while thinking it strange in the afterward that cameto her, she remembered it all as distinctly as ever, and knew that tothe last day of her life she would never quite forget the quiet of thenarrow, dreary street, the yellow light of the gas-lamps, and the twofigures walking away into the shadow, with their backs toward her, thegirl holding Denis Oglethorpe's arm, and the glossy feather in her blackhat drooping its tip upon his shoulder.