By the Light of the Soul Part 65

Chapter x.x.xI

The Monday when the fall term of the academy at Westbridge opened was a very beautiful day. The air was as soft as summer, but with a strange, pungent quality which the summer had lacked. There was a slightly smoky scent which exhilarated. It was a scent of death coming from bonfires of dead leaves and drying vegetation, and yet it seemed to presage life. When Maria and Evelyn went out to take the trolley for Westbridge, Maria wore a cl.u.s.ter of white chrysanthemums pinned to her blouse. The blouse itself was a very pretty one, worn with a black plaited skirt. It was a soft silk of an old-rose shade, and it was trimmed with creamy lace. Maria had left off her mourning.

Evelyn looked with a little surprise at Maria's blouse.

"Why, you've got on your pink blouse, sister," she said.

Maria colored softly, for no ostensible reason. "Yes," she said.

"You don't generally wear it to school."

"I thought as long as it was the first day," Maria said, in a slightly faltering tone. She bent her head until her rose-wreathed hat almost concealed her face. The sisters stood in front of the house waiting for their car. Evelyn made a sudden little run back into the yard.

"You hold the car!" she cried.

"I don't know that they will wait; you must not stop," Maria called out. But the car had just stopped when Evelyn returned, and she had a little cl.u.s.ter of s...o...b..rries pinned in the front of her red gown.

She looked bewitchingly over them at Maria when they were seated side by side in the car.

"I guess I was going to wear flowers as well as some other folks,"

she whispered with a soft, dark glance at her sister from under her long lashes. Maria smiled.

"You don't need to wear flowers," she said.

"Why not as well as you?"

"Oh, you are a flower yourself," Maria said, looking fondly at her.

Indeed, the young girl looked like nothing so much as a rose, with her tenderly curved pink cheeks, the sweet arch of her lips, and her glowing radiance of smiles. Maria looked at her critically, then bade her turn that she might fasten a hook on her collar which had become unfastened.

"Now you are all right," she said.

Evelyn smiled. "Don't you think these s...o...b..rries are pretty with this red dress?" she asked.

"Lovely."

"I wonder what the new princ.i.p.al will be like," Evelyn said, musingly, after riding awhile in silence.

"I presume he will be very much like other young men. The main thing to consider is, if he is a good teacher," Maria said.

"What makes you cross, sister?" Evelyn whispered plaintively.

"I am not cross, only I don't want you to be silly."

"I am not silly. All the girls are wondering, too. I am only like other girls. You can't expect me to be just like you, Maria. Of course you are older, and you don't wonder, and then, too, you knew him when he was a boy. Is he light or dark?"

"Light," Maria replied, looking out of the window.

"Sometimes light children grow dark as they grow older," said Evelyn.

"I hope he hasn't. I like light men better than dark, don't you, Maria?"

"I don't like one more than another," said Maria shortly.

"Of course I know you don't in one way. Don't be so cross," Evelyn said in a hurt way. "But almost everybody has an opinion about light and dark men."

Maria looked out of the window, and Evelyn said no more, but she felt a sorrowful surprise at her sister. Evelyn was so used to being petted and admired that the slightest rebuff, especially a rebuff from Maria, made her incredulous. It really seemed to her that Maria must be ill to speak so shortly to her. Then she remembered poor Professor Lane, and how in all probability Maria was thinking about him this morning, and that made her irritable, and how she, Evelyn, ought to be very patient. Evelyn was in reality very patient and very slow to take offence. So she snuggled gently up to her sister, until her slender, red-clad shoulder touched Maria's, and looked pleasantly around through the car, and again wondered privately about the new princ.i.p.al.

They had a short walk after leaving the car to the academy. As they turned into the academy grounds, which were quite beautiful with trees and shrubs, a young man was mounting the broad flight of granite steps which led to the main entrance. Evelyn touched Maria agitatedly on the arm. "Oh, Maria," said she.

"What?"

"Is that--he?"

"I think so. I saw only his back, but I should think so. I don't see what other young man could be going into the building. It was certainly not the janitor, nor Mr. Hughes" (Mr. Hughes was the music-teacher) replied Maria calmly, although she was pale.

"Oh, if that was he, I think he is splendid," whispered Evelyn.

Maria said nothing as the two proceeded along the fine gravel walk between hydrangeas, and inverted beech-trees, and symmetrically trimmed firs.

"He is light," Evelyn said, meditatively. "I am glad of that." As she spoke she put her hand to her head and adjusted her hair, then her hat. She threw back her shoulders. She preened herself, innocently and unconsciously, like a little bird. Maria did not notice it. She had her own thoughts, and she was using all her power of self-control to conceal her agitation. It seemed to her as she entered the building as if her secret was written upon her face, as if everybody must read as they ran. But she removed her coat and hat, and took her place with the other a.s.sistants upon the platform in the chapel of the academy where the morning exercises were held. She spoke to the other teachers, and took her usual seat. Wollaston was not yet there.

The pupils were flocking into the room, which was picturesque with a dome-shaped ceiling, and really fine frescoed panels on the walls.

Directly opposite the platform was a large oriel-window of stained gla.s.s, the gift of the founder. Rays of gold and green and blue and crimson light filtered through, over the a.s.sembling school. Maria saw Evelyn with her face turned towards the platform eagerly watching.

She was not looking at Maria, but was evidently expecting the advent of the new princ.i.p.al. It did not at that time occur to Maria to attribute any serious meaning to the girl's att.i.tude. She merely felt a sort of impatience with her, concerning her att.i.tude, when she herself knew what she knew.

Suddenly a sort of suppressed stir was evident among those of the pupils who were seated. Maria felt a breeze from an open door, and knew that Wollaston had entered. He spoke first to her, calling her by name, and bidding her good-morning, then to the other teachers.

The others were either residents of Westbridge, or boarded there, and he had evidently been introduced to them before. Then he took his seat, and waited quietly for the pupils to become seated. It lacked only a few minutes of the time for opening the school. It was not long before the seats were filled, and Maria heard Wollaston's voice reading a selection from the Bible. Then she bent her head, and heard him offering prayer. She felt a sort of incredulity now. It seemed to her inconceivable that the boy whom she had known could be actually conducting the opening exercises of a school with such imperturbability and self-possession. All at once a great pride of possession seized her. She glanced covertly at him between her fingers. The secret which had been her shame suddenly filled her with the possibility of pride. Wollaston Lee, standing there, seemed to her the very grandest man whom she had ever seen. He was undoubtedly handsome, and he had, moreover, power. When he had finished his prayer, and had begun his short address to the scholars, she glanced at him again, and saw what splendid shoulders he had, how proudly he held his head, and yet what a boyish ingenuousness went with it all.

Maria did not look at Evelyn at all. Had she done so, she would have been startled. Evelyn was gazing at the new princ.i.p.al with the utmost unreserve, the unreserve of awakened pa.s.sion which does not know itself because of innocence and ignorance. Evelyn, gazing at the young man, had never been so unconscious of herself, and at the same time she had never been so conscious. She felt a life to which she had been hitherto a stranger tingling through every vein and nerve of her young body, through every emotion of her young soul. She gazed with wide-open eyes like a child, the rose flush deepened on her cheeks, her parted lips became moist and deep crimson, pulses throbbed in her throat. She smiled involuntarily, a smile of purest delight and admiration. Love twofold had awakened within her emotional nature. Love of herself, as she might be seen in another's eyes, and love of another. And yet she did not know it was love, and she felt no shame, and no fright, nothing but rapture. She was in the broad light of the present, under the direct rays of a firmament of life and love. Another girl, Addie Hemingway, who was no older than Evelyn, but shrewd beyond her years, with a taint of coa.r.s.eness, noticed her, and nudged the girl at her right. "Just look at Evelyn Edgham," she whispered.

The other girl looked.

"I suppose she thinks she'll catch him, she's so awful pretty,"

whispered Addie maliciously.

"I don't think she is so very pretty," whispered back the other girl, who was pretty herself and disposed to a.s.sert her own claims to attention.

"She thinks she is," whispered back Addie. "Just see how bold she looks at him. I should think she would be ashamed of herself."

"So should I," nodded the other girl.

But Evelyn had no more conception of the propriety of shame than nature itself. She was pure nature. Presently Wollaston himself, who had been making his address to his pupils with a vague sense of an upturned expanse of fresh young faces of boys and girls, without any especial face arresting his attention, saw Evelyn with a start which n.o.body, man or woman, could have helped. She was so beautiful that she could no more be pa.s.sed unnoticed than a star. Wollaston made an almost imperceptible pause in his discourse, then he continued, fixing his eyes upon the oriel-window opposite. He realized himself as surprised and stirred, but he was not a young man whom a girl's beauty can rouse at once to love. He had, moreover, a strong sense of honor and duty. He realized Maria was his legal wife. He was, although he had gotten over his boyish romance, which had been shocked out of him at the time of his absurd marriage, in an att.i.tude of soul which was ready for love, and love for his wife. He had often said to himself that no other honorable course was possible for either Maria or himself: that it was decidedly best that they should fall in love with each other and make their marriage a reality. At the same time, something more than delicacy and shyness restrained him from making advances. He was convinced that Maria not only disliked but feared him. A great pity for her was in his heart, and also pride, which shrank from exposing itself to rebuffs. Yet he did not underestimate himself. He considered that he had as good a chance as any man of winning her affection and overcoming her present att.i.tude towards him. He saw no reason why he should not. While he was not conceited, he knew perfectly well his advantages as to personal appearance. He also was conscious of the integrity of his purpose as far as she was concerned. He knew that, whenever she should be willing to accept him, he should make her a good husband, and he recognized his readiness and ability to love her should she seem ready to welcome his love. He, however, was very proud even while conscious of his advantages, and consequently easily wounded.

He could not forget Maria's look of horror when she had recognized him the Sat.u.r.day before. A certain resentment towards her because of it was over him in spite of himself. He said to himself that he had not deserved that look, that he had done all that mortal man could do to shield her from a childish tragedy, for which he had not been to blame in any greater degree than she. He said to himself that she might at least have had confidence in his honor and his generosity.

However, pity for her and that readiness to do his duty--to love her--were uppermost. The quick glance which he had given Maria that morning had filled him with pleasure. Maria, in her dull-rose blouse, with her cl.u.s.ter of chrysanthemums, with her fair, emotional face held by sheer force of will in a mould of serenity, with her soft yellow coils of hair and her still childish figure, was charming.

After that one glance at Evelyn, with her astonishing beauty, he thought no more about her. When his address was finished the usual routine of the school began.

He did not see Maria again all day. She had her own cla.s.s-room, and at noon she and Evelyn ate their luncheon together there. Evelyn did not say a word about the new princ.i.p.al. She was very quiet. She did not eat as usual.

"Don't you feel well, dear?" asked Maria.