The Hidden Children by Robert W. Chambers (books to improve english .TXT) 📗

still wore her coquette garden-hat—the chipstraw affair, with the lilac ribbons tied in a bow under her rounded chin; and a white, thin gown, most ravishing, and all bestrewn with sprigs and posies, which displayed her smooth and delicately moulded throat above the low-pinned kerchief, and her lovely arms from the creamy elbow lace down to her finger tips.

The French hair-powder she wore was not sprinkled in any vulgar profusion; it merely frosted the rich curls, making her pink checks pinker and her grey eyes a darker and purpler grey, and rendering her lips fresh and dewy in vivid contrast. And she wore a patch on her smooth left cheek-bone. And it was a most deadly thing to do, causing me a sentimental anguish unspeakable.

As I sat there worshipping, enchanted, resentful, martyred, alternately aching with loneliness and devotion, and at the same time heartily detesting every man on whom she chanced to smile, comes a sly and fragrant breath in my ear. And, turning, I discover Lana perched on a step of the stairs above me, her mocking eyes brilliant with unkind delight.

"Poor swain a-sighing!" said she. "Love is sure a thorny way, Euan."

"Have a care for your own skirts then," said I ungraciously.

"My skirts!"

"Yours, Lanette. Your petticoat needs mending now."

"If love no more than rend my petticoat I ought to be content," she said coolly.

Silenced by her effrontery, which truly passed all bounds, I merely glared at her, and presently she laughed outright.

"Broad-brim," said she, "I was not born yesterday. Have no worries concerning me, but look to yourself, for I think you have been sorely hit at last. And God knows such wounds go hard with a truly worthy and good young man."

"I make nothing of your nonsense," said I coldly.

"What? Nothing? And yonder sits its pretty and romantic inspiration? I am glad I have lived to see the maid who dealt you your first wound!"

"Do you fancy that I am in love?" said I defiantly.

"Why not admit what your lop-ears and moony mien yell aloud to the world entire?"

"Have you no common sense, Lana? Do you imagine a man can fall in love in a brief week?"

"I have been wondering," said she coolly, "whether you have ever before seen her."

"Continue to wonder," said I bluntly.

"I do.... Because you call her 'Lois' so readily—and you came near it the first day you had apparently set eyes on her. Also, she calls you 'Euan' with a tripping lack of hesitation—even with a certain natural tenderness—"

I turned on her, exasperated:

"Come," said I, controlling my temper with difficulty, "I am tired of playing butt to your silly arrows."

"Oh, how you squirm, Euan! Cupid and I are shooting you full as a porcupine!"

"If Cupid is truly shooting," said I with malice, "you had best hunt cover, Lana. For I think already a spent shaft or two has bruised you, flying at hazard from his bow."

She smilingly ignored what I had said.

"Tell me," she persisted, "are you not at her pretty feet already? Is not your very soul down on its worthy marrow-bones before this girl?"

"Is not every gallant gentleman who comes to Croghan's at the feet of Miss de Contrecoeur?"

"One or two are in the neighbourhood of my feet," she remarked.

"Aye, and too near to please me," said I.

"Who, for example?"

"Boyd—for example," I replied, giving her a hearty scowl.

"Oh!" she drawled airily. "He is not yet near enough my ankles to please me."

"You little fool," said I between my teeth, "do you think you can play alley-taw and cat's-cradle with a man like that?"

Then a cold temper flashed in her eyes.

"A man like that," she repeated. "And pray, dear friend, what manner of man may be 'a man like that?'"

"One who can over-match you at your own silly sport—and carry the game to its sinister finish! I warn you, have a care of yourself, Lanette. Sir John is a tyro to this man."

She said hotly: "If I should say to him what you have but now said to me, he would have you out for your impertinence!"

"If he continues to conduct as he has begun," said I, "the chances are that I may have him out for his effrontery."

"What! Who gave you the privilege of interfering in my affairs, you silly ninny?"

"So that you display ordinary prudence, I have no desire to interfere," I retorted angrily.

"And if I do not! If I am imprudent! If I choose to be audacious, reckless, shameless! Is it your affair?"

"Suppose I make it mine?"

"You are both silly and insulting; do you know it?"

Flushed, breathing rapidly, we sat facing each other; and I could have shaken the little vixen, so furious was I at myself as well as at her.

"Very well," said I, "continue to play with hell-fire if you like. I'm done with you and with him, too."

"And I with you," she said between her teeth. "And if you were not the honest-meaning marplot that you are, Mr. Boyd should teach you a lesson!"

"I'll teach him one now," said I, springing to my feet and gone quite blind with rage so that I was obliged to stand still a moment before I could discover Boyd where he stood by the open door, trying to converse with Mrs. Lansing, but watching us both with unfeigned amazement.

"Euan!"

Lana's voice arrested me, and I halted and turned, striving to remember decency and that I was conducting like a very boor. This was neither the time nor place to force a quarrel on any man.... And Lana was right. I had no earthly warrant to interfere if she gave me none; perhaps no spiritual warrant either.

Still shaken and confused by the sudden fury which had invaded me, and now sullenly mortified by my own violence and bad manners, I stood with one hand resting on the banisters, forcing myself to look at Lana and take the punishment that her scornful eyes were dealing me.

"Are you coming to your senses?" she asked coldly.

"Yes," I said. "I ask your pardon."

A moment more we gazed at each other, then suddenly her under lip trembled and her eyes filled.

"Forgive me," she stammered. "You are a better friend to me than—many.... I am not angry, Euan."

At that I could scarce control my own voice:

"Lanette—little Lana! Find it in your generous heart to offer me my pardon, for I have conducted like a yokel and a fool! But—but I really do love you."

"I know it, Euan. I did not know it was in me to use you so cruelly. Let us be friends again. Will you?"

"Will you, Lana?"

"Willingly—oh, with all my heart! And—I am not very happy, Euan. Bear with me a little.... There is a letter come from Clarissa; perhaps it is that which edges my tongue and temper—the poor child is so sad and lonely, so wretchedly unhappy—and Sir John riding the West with all his hellish crew! And she has no news of him—and asks it of me——"

She descended a step and stood on the stair beside me, looking up at me very sweetly, and resting her hand lightly on my shoulder—a caress so frank and unconcealed that it meant no more then its innocent significance implied. But at that moment, by chance, I encountered Lois's eyes fixed on me in cold surprise. And, being a fool, and already unnerved, I turned red as a pippin, as though I were guilty, and looked elsewhere till the heat cooled from my cheeks.

"You dear boy," said Lana gently. "If there were more men like you and fewer like—Sir John, there'd be no Clarissas in the world." She hesitated, then smiled audaciously. "Perhaps no Lanas either.... There! Go and court your sweetheart. For she gave me a look but now which boded ill for me or for any other maid or matron who dares lay finger on a single thrum of your rifle-shirt."

"You are wrong," said I. "She cares nothing for me in that manner."

"What? How do you know, you astounding boy?"

"I know it well enough."

Lana shot a swift and curious look straight across the room at Lois, who now did not seem to be aware of her.

"She is beautiful... and—not made of marble," said Lana softly to herself. "Good God, no! Scarcely made of marble.... And some man will awaken her one day.... And when he does he will unchain Aphrodite herself—or I guess wrong." She turned to me smiling. "That girl yonder has never loved."

"Why do you think so?"

"I know it; but I can not tell you why I know it. Women divine where men reason; and we are oftener right than you.... Are you truly in love with her?"

"I can not speak of such things to you," I muttered.

"Lord! Is it as serious as that already? Is it arrived at the holy and sacred stage?"

"Lana! For heaven's sake——"

"I am not jeering; I am realising the solemn fact that you have progressed a certain distance in love and are arrived at a definite and well-known milestone.... And I am merely wondering how far she has progressed—or if she has as yet journeyed any particular distance at all—or any more than set out upon the road. For the look she shot at me convinces me that she has started—in fact, has reached that turn in the thorny path where she is less inclined to defend herself than her own possessions. You seem to be one of them."

Boyd, who had awaited the termination of our tete-a-tete with an impatience perfectly apparent to anybody who chanced to observe him, now seemed able to endure it no longer; and as he approached us I felt Lana's hand on my arm tremble slightly; but the cool smile still curved her lips.

She received him with a shaft of light raillery, and he laughed and retorted in kind, and then we three sauntered over to the table where was the floating island in a huge stone bowl of Indian ware.

Around this, and the tea and punch, everybody was now gathering, and there was much talking and laughing and offering of refreshment to the ladies, and drinking of humourous or gallant toasts.

I remember that Boyd, being called upon, instantly contrived some impromptu verses amid general approbation—for his intelligence was as lithe and graceful as his body was agile. And our foppish Ensign, who was no dolt by a long shot either, made a most deft rondeau in flattery of the ladies, turning it so neatly and unexpectedly that we all drew our side-arms and, thrusting them aloft, cheered both him and the fair subjects of his nimble verses.

I would have been glad to shine in that lively and amusing competition, but possessed no such desirable talents, and so when called upon contrived merely a commonplace toast which all applauded as in duty bound.

And I saw Lois looking at me with an odd, smiling expression, not one thing or another, yet scarcely cordial.

"And now," says Boyd, "each lady in turn should offer an impromptu toast in verse."

Whereupon they all protested that the thing was impossible. But he was already somewhat flushed with the punch and with his own success; and says he, with that occasional and over-flourishing bow of his:

"To divinity nothing is impossible; therefore, the ladies, ever divine, may venture all things."

"Which is why I venture to decline," remarked Lana. But he was set upon it, and would not be denied; and he began a most flowery little speech with the ladies as his inspiration:

"Poetry and grace in mind and body is theirs by nature," said he, "and they have but to open the rosy petals of their lips to enthrall us all with gems of——"

"Lord!" said Mrs. Bleecker, laughing, "I have never writ a verse in my life save on my sampler; and if I were to open the rosy petals of my lips, I should never have done a-giggling. But I'll do it, Mr. Boyd, if you think it will enthrall you."

"As for me," quoth Angelina Lansing, "I require a workshop to manufacture my gems. It follows that they are no true gems at all, but shop-made paste. Ask Lana Helmer; she is far more adept in sugaring refusals."

All turned smilingly toward Lana, who shrugged her shoulders, saying carelessly:

"I must decline!
The Muses nine
No sisters are of mine.
Must I repine
Because I'm not divine,
And may not versify some pretty story
To prove to you my own immortal glory?
Make no mistake. Accept; don't offer verses.
Kisses received are mercies—given, curses!"

Said Boyd instantly:

"A thousand poems for your couplets! Do you trade with me, Miss Helmer?"

"Let me hear your thousand first," retorted the coquette disdainfully, "ere I make up my mind to be damned."

Major Parr said grimly:

"With what are we others to trade, who can