Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 43

I was silent while I stood for a few seconds regarding him closely. I wondered if he had not taken special pains with his toilet; for I had never seen him look so regally handsome before. He may have detected my admiring gaze; for he said, lightly:

"What is wrong, that you favor me with such scrutinizing glances?"

"There is nothing wrong, Mr. Winthrop, so far as my eyes can penetrate. I trust that to clearer vision than mine what lies deeper than human gaze can pierce, is equally perfect."

"Is it your custom, little one, to pay your male acquaintances such open compliments?"

"It was not a compliment. I only spoke the truth," I said, quietly, as we walked side by side down the lilac-bordered footpath, the way we always went to church when we walked, as it cut off a-half mile or more. It was a charming walk in summer; but now the low bushes looked common and ungraceful, stripped of their foliage; but the ground was high, and over their tops we could see the distant hills and the sun-kissed sea. And this morning as I tripped lightly by my guardian's side, I fancied I had never seen this quiet pathway even in its midsummer glory look so perfect.

"It is a wise plan not to tell your friends the truth always. Masculine vanity is occasionally as strongly developed as feminine," he said after we had gone some time in silence.

"But you are not vain, Mr. Winthrop; I never saw any one so free from it," I said, gravely.

"You are determined to overwhelm me with your flattery. We must change our conversational topics altogether."

"First, let me ask if flattery is not half-sister to falsehood?"

"Probably they are pretty closely related; but why are you anxious to get that matter settled?"

"Because I do not want you to believe I ever tell you what is not true.

I do not think I could, if I tried."

"You reserve that privilege, then, for your other friends."

"Oh, no; I am never tempted to be untruthful with them."

"And are you so tempted in your relation with me?" he asked, a little sternly.

"Sometimes."

"Why, Medoline, you astonish me. Tell me what reason you have for being so tempted?"

"You make me afraid of you; that is my only reason," I murmured, trembling already with a touch of my natural fear of him.

"I am sorry to know that I stand in the relation of an ogre to you."

"You do not, and I never meant to tell you that. I am afraid of you. By and bye, when I get a little older, I do not think that I shall be; but you make me tell you everything."

"If that is the case I am surprised you have so little wrong-doing to confess. I believe you will ultimately convince me that a few of your s.e.x have escaped the taint of their evil inheritance."

His words caused such a thrill of delight that, remembering what a tell-tale face I had, I turned my head to watch intently the white sails of a ship far away to the left; but I presently bethought myself to inquire what our special inheritance was.

"That which Eve left her daughters--deceit."

"But, Mr. Winthrop, we are alike descendants of hers; and the sons as often take after their mother as their father."

"That is not a bad hit. It never occurred to me before. Men and women, however, are different; whether created so originally we do not know.

But sometimes we meet a woman combining the best qualities of both s.e.xes; but so far as my experience goes, they are the rarest product of creative skill. I dare say there are men occasionally combining the same beautiful qualities."

"I think Mr. Bowen does."

"Have you ever told him as much?" Mr. Winthrop asked, with an odd smile.

"No, I have scarcely said anything to him about his goodness. I like best to let him do the talking when we are together."

"I am getting curious to see that man."

"Oh, Mr. Winthrop, if you would only come with me to their church. They are having wonderful meetings, and people are getting converted."

"What church is it?"

"Beech Street, I heard the minister pray at Mrs. Blake's funeral, and once since at the Lark.u.ms. I have longed to hear him again. I never heard anything like it in my life. It reminded me of a beautiful poem or oratorio."

"Why, have you not gone to his church, then, to hear him?"

"I feared you might be displeased."

We walked on some distance in silence. I stole a quick look once at his face to see if he was angry, but he seemed in one of his abstracted moods, and I reflected that by this time, he had probably forgotten my existence. But I was mistaken; for all at once he said abruptly, as he stood holding open the gate that led from the footpath into the main street. "You have been a more obedient girl than I expected any of your s.e.x could be, especially one with your keen, impetuous nature. To reward your fidelity I will go to the Beech Street church whenever you wish." I looked up at him, the grateful tears in my eyes, but some way my feelings had got beyond my control, and I dared not attempt to thank him. We joined the crowds on the sidewalk and after a while he said:--

"You have not thanked me, Medoline; don't you appreciate my offer?"

I tried to speak; but my lip quivered, and I remained silent.

"You have thanked me very eloquently, little one; more so than if you had used set phrases."

The remainder of our walk was completed mostly in silence. I scarce knew why, but my heart was as glad as if June roses and song birds had been about us as we went. I looked at some staid people,--old looking to me, though few of them were past fifty,--and pitied them that they too were not young and glad-hearted like me. As we neared the church, the sunshine and gladness suddenly grew dim, for there, in all her perfect loveliness, Mrs. Le Grande was approaching St. Mark's from the opposite direction.

Impulsively I turned to Mr. Winthrop, hoping he would not see her; for usually he was quite oblivious of the presence of those who might be on the street with him. A glance a.s.sured me that he was looking at her, and that her desire was gratified. He took no notice, however, of my abrupt movement, and without change of expression or voice, said: "There seems a good many strangers on their way to church this morning. Some unusual circ.u.mstance must have occurred to bring out so many curious worshippers." I could not help smiling at the veiled irony in voice and words. Fortunately we were considerably nearer the church than Mrs. Le Grande, and without quickening our steps gained its shelter before she overtook us, although I saw she moved more quickly after she saw us. St.

Mark's was an ancient church, built in old colonial days. One could easily fancy themselves in a country church in some quiet English village, as their eyes fell on the high-backed pews, narrow, stained gla.s.s-windows, and walls covered with memorial tablets, and the other peculiarities of a church over a century old. The Winthrop pew was near the pulpit. A large square one, and commanding an excellent view of the congregation. When Mrs. Le Grande entered, she paused for a moment, apparently taking a rapid survey of the church; when her eye fell on our pew. Without paying any attention to the usher, she glided to the nearest vacant seat to ours. Directly, I was conscious that very many eyes were upon us. Opening my Bible, I read mechanically the words before me; but no more conscious of their meaning than if they had been Sanscrit. When the service began, in the withdrawal of attention to other things, I took courage to look at Mr. Winthrop. He sat facing Mrs. Le Grande, but with face as unruffled as if he were reading his morning paper. I glanced next at Mrs. Le Grande. She sat with downcast eyes, her color varying fitfully. She might have been taken for some beautiful picture of penitence. I do not know if Mr. Winthrop vouchsafed her a single look, but from her expression I judged that she thought he was watching her closely. It was a relief when the service was ended, although my conscience painfully reminded me that I would have another master opportunity for listening to the preached gospel to repent of, or else to confront some day; for I had been so nervous I had not listened intelligently to a single sentence of the sermon.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MRS. LE GRANDE'S STRATAGEM.

The congregation slowly dispersed, Mr. Winthrop pausing, as was his wont, for the crowd to move out. Although one of the busiest men I ever met, he never seemed in a hurry. Besides, he had an extreme dislike to be jostled by a hurrying crowd. When he saw the aisles getting empty he left the pew. Mrs. La Grande apparently, like ourselves, liked plenty of elbow-room; for she only left her pew a few steps in advance of us. Mr.

Winthrop walked leisurely towards the door. I dropped behind, not wishing to bow to her in his presence, and not capable either of the rudeness of pa.s.sing her without a friendly nod. My heart beat thickly as I saw him approaching nearer to her, and a moment after they were side by side. She partly turned her face toward him, an expression of contrition and appeal, making her beauty well-nigh irresistible. I gazed, fascinated; then after awhile I turned my eyes to Mr. Winthrop. I felt a sudden relief when I saw the same unconcerned expression that was habitual to him. Mrs. Le Grande looked him, for an instant, full in the face, when a swift change came over her own countenance. For the first time, probably, she realized that her power and fascination had lost their effect on him.

A crimson flush of shame and anger swept over cheek and brow, as quickly followed by a deathly pallor. Mr. Winthrop, without noticing her presence, walked leisurely on. She stood perfectly still, leaning her hand, as if for support, against the back of a pew. I hastened to her side, pitying her deeply in her disappointment. She gave me a dazed look, scarce seeming to recognize me; I paused an instant and held out my hand, but she did not seem to notice it. She looked so wan and wretched I felt I must try to comfort her, though at the risk of Mr. Winthrop's displeasure.

"You are not looking well," I said compa.s.sionately. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You would not dare, even if you were willing, with that merciless man so near," she said, faintly. I paid no attention to her remark, but asked if I might get her a gla.s.s of water.

"Yes, anything, please, to take away this deathly feeling." I drew her into a pew and forced her to lie down, crushing thereby a most elegant toilet. But I was afraid she was dying, she looked so pale; then, rushing to the vestry, I found the s.e.xton. He looked somewhat startled at sight of me.

"Can you give me some water?--there is a lady upstairs very ill."