Miss Dexie Part 57

Believe me, it will sound much better if told beforehand. I am pleased to hear that your prospects are so bright, but you did not tell me half enough about your pretty English la.s.sie, or in what direction her talents lie, but I can well believe that I am far in the shade so far as music goes. I cannot tell you what you ask, Lancy, for my love has not been asked for in words; but I am very happy, and if my future holds nothing brighter than my present life, it will be well worth living, for the only shadow is the thought of poor papa's sufferings. And now, dear Lancy, good-bye. This is my last letter to you, but if we ever meet again I think you will find that I am the same old Dexie."

The letter had such a kind, honest ring to it that it quite relieved Lancy's mind, and he wondered what Dexie would say if she knew that his ladylove was only a pa.s.sable singer, and had no talent for music at all.

Truly, he had fallen in love with his opposite.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

"I say, Traverse! I believe you are getting melancholy," said Mr. Fenerty, as, seated in Guy Traverse's office, he watched Guy bend over the papers on the desk before him, yet seeming to accomplish nothing.

Getting no response to his repeated sallies, he added:

"What's up! out with it! If that pile of papers is in a tangle, say the word, and I'll bring my mighty brain to bear on them, and set them in order for you in no time! No? Are the men going out on a strike, then? or is your great-grandma down with the measles? Then, for Heaven's sake, why such a doleful expression? It is enough to give one the blues to look at you!" and he re-crossed his legs and looked searchingly at his friend.

"That's all your nonsense, Fenerty! I'm all right! What's the news?" and Traverse leaned back in his chair as if to resign himself to the inevitable.

"News! he asks for news, when I have come here expecting to find him boiling over with anxiety to impart news to someone!" and Fenerty rolled up his eyes in astonishment. "However, now that I have looked at you, and seen the settled melancholy of those features, I am obliged to own that you do not look like a man to be congratulated."

"Why should I be congratulated, and for what? What joke are you struggling to get rid of, Fenerty?"

"'Pon honor, Traverse, I believe you are right! The congratulations are due in some other quarter, yet who is he?"

"I am as much in the dark as yourself, Fenerty. I own that I hoped to win her myself, and I feel the disappointment--keenly."

"Traverse, I hope you will not think me a meddling fool; but I would like to know if it is all up with the other one--she of the letter, I mean. You might tell a fellow that much."

Traverse looked at him keenly. He knew that Fenerty had a good heart, with all his bantering, and it was plain enough to all that his attentions to Dexie Sherwood could have but one significance. Yet there must be a feeling in the mind of Fenerty, as well as others, that in the light of that letter he was not "off with the old love before he was on with the new." Should he trust Fenerty with the secret of the letter, and have at least one friend who would not think him dishonorable in the matter?

"Fenerty, how are you at keeping secrets?" he said at last. "I never hear you parting with any, but whether that is owing to the fact that you have none to impart, or whether your secrets really are secrets, I am not able to guess. I would like to tell you about that letter. What are the prospects of it becoming public property?"

"'Pon honor, Traverse, you are a brute! Do you think I would speak of it to my bosom friend, if I had one? and Heaven knows I haven't! But I have often thought of your possible death from unrequited love. You must have been in a desperate way about the time that letter was written, hey, Traverse?"

"Fenerty, you are a great goose, and let me prove my words. But first, while I think of it, never offer yourself as a detective, for the requirements needed are not included in your make-up. Well, I never wrote that letter at all. Miss Gussie was right in thinking the letter was her sister's, but I guessed the truth before anyone had time to catch the horrified look that came into Miss Dexie's face as she heard her letter read out to the crowd. I felt I owed Miss Gussie one for the hateful trick, so claimed it as mine; and I piled on the agony pretty thick, if I remember rightly. How does that solution of the mystery strike you, Fenerty, hey?"

"Traverse, you are right!" and he fell over against the wall, as if the news had been too much for him. "You are right! 'Pon honor, but that was a bright trick of yours to claim that letter! I hope you appreciated the sympathy I expressed for you on that trying occasion. Ha! ha! But the fellow that wrote that letter had it pretty bad, eh, Traverse? By George!

I'll bet a hat she has given in at last. That is where the ring came from!"

This referred to a little scene that had taken place in the T. and B.

rooms.

Dexie had taken her place at the organ as usual, and in so doing had displayed a ring that was new to the eyes of those standing near. Dexie blushed painfully when attention was called to the ring by her teasing friends; but she would acknowledge nothing when they tried to draw the truth from her lips. When Guy Traverse joined the circle, to see what all the fun and laughter meant, Dexie rose to her feet and slipped away, unable to meet his eyes. But, with the knowledge he had of Dexie's affairs, he thought there could be only one explanation of the ring's appearance; her engagement to the lover over the sea must be a settled fact. But Guy's frequent visits to the Sherwoods made the rest believe there was an engagement between him and Dexie.

Dexie's ring aroused considerable discussion among her friends, and it only made it seem more complicated when Gussie declared to a friend that she believed "Dexie had that ring before she left Halifax, but never wore it."

But it was her sign of freedom, and its glitter and sparkle was like the light of her own eyes when they rested upon it. She was afraid that her secret, that sweet secret of her own, might be surprised from her. Not for worlds would she have _that_ person know that her heart had awakened at last. With that ring on her finger, who could charge her with caring for anyone but the giver?

Guy Traverse thought he had every reason to feel sad and gloomy. How was it that he ever supposed she cared for him, for now she was as reserved and cool when in his society as she had before been frank and pleasant, and, of course, that ring was responsible for the change.

Gussie took the opportunity of relating to Guy, as well as to others, many an interesting story concerning Dexie and her Halifax lover, but she neglected to add that most of her stories were creations of her own brain.

Guy felt little interest in these stories. He felt that there was something going on that he did not understand, but he intended to ask an explanation from Dexie at his first opportunity, feeling quite sure she would own the truth to him.

But the opportunity did not present itself readily, and even Mr. Sherwood felt the change and wondered what had come between Dexie and his friend. He tried to seek into the trouble, but could find no explanation of it.

Mr. Sherwood was able now to be lifted to a wheeled chair or couch, and as he could be gently wheeled from room to room, he found the change quite agreeable. The time did not seem so long as when he was confined within four walls.

There were times when Dexie thought her father might be spared for years instead of months, but when one of his attacks of pain seized him such hopes as suddenly sank away. His mind was more free from care, since his lawyer, Mr. Hackett, had brought his business matters to a satisfactory state; but his visits to the house were always times of trial. Mrs.

Sherwood would listen to no explanations that would bring to her mind the thought of her husband's decease. But someone had to stand in the gap, and, as usual, it was Dexie; she it was to whom Mr. Hackett explained the many papers and the various transactions to which their contents related.

"What is the matter between you and Traverse, Dexie?" said Mr. Sherwood one day, as Dexie sat by his side, writing at his dictation. "Never mind about that story now; I have forgotten how I intended to end the matter. Tell me what has happened between you two."

"Indeed, papa, there is nothing. Mr. Traverse has probably something else to take up his attention, and he has been away to New York, I hear, so I daresay he is too busy to drop in as often as he used to do. Never mind him; it is a pity not to complete this story when it is so nearly finished.

Let me read what I have written down, then perhaps you will remember what you were going to do with this singular young lady."

"Oh, no! Put the thing out of sight! I'm sick and tired of her already. I miss Traverse, Dexie, and if you have had a quarrel, make it up for my sake. He brings a world of sunshine with him when he comes."

"We have not quarrelled, papa; that is not the reason he has not been in.

But I will tell Gussie to ask him to come in to-night; she will see him at the T. and B. rooms."

"Why can't you ask him yourself, Dexie? Queer that he has not been in lately! There was never a day but he would run in for a few minutes during some part of it; so ask him yourself to come in and see me."

"I am not going out to-night, papa dear, but I will write him a note, if you say so," and she drew some tiny sheets from among the scattered MS.

that filled the desk.

"Do so, then, and tell him to come in as early as he can."

"There, how will that do, papa?" and she pa.s.sed the few lines for his inspection.

"Well, it couldn't be said in fewer words; that's a fact," he said, looking at her curiously. "Look here, Dexie, out with it. What has happened to you?

Don't try to hide it; for I'm not stone-blind yet," and he pinched her pink ear, and pulled her face around to look into it. "What has come over you lately? Some new experience, I am quite sure. Matters are not as they used to be. I have noticed the change in you for some time. You go whistling through the house as happy as a bird, and your face is as bright as a new b.u.t.ton. Surely it cannot be because Traverse does not visit us so often?

Yet, I notice if anyone speaks to you about him, you get as 'mum' as you please. Come, you used to tell me all your little secrets, you know. What's up, Dexie?"

"Dear papa, I don't know what to tell you," and she stooped and kissed his cheek. "You may look at things differently than I do, and news which may be pleasant to me may seem very strange to you."

"Then there is news of some kind, after all? Well, let us have it. I want to hear the news, good, bad or indifferent. I will try to believe it is _good_ news, since it has such a happy effect on yourself," and he looked up at the bright face that was bending over his chair. "Well, you know, there was a sort of promise between Lancy and me; but I am free from it.

Our last letters have been sent and received, and by and by he is going to take an English la.s.sie home as his wife."

"You don't say so, and you find it a source of rejoicing! Well, you are a queer girl, sure enough. Gussie would say you have been jilted."

"But I have not, because it was I who asked to be released from the promise. If you knew what good friends Lancy and I still remain, you would not fancy I feel jilted."

"Well, I'm blest if I see the point yet," and he looked at Dexie keenly.

"Please, papa, do not look for it," was the laughing reply; "for if there be any point to this story, it is not visible to the naked eye, and I doubt if you could discern it with a microscope itself. But, papa, I do not want this spoken about yet--Lancy's approaching marriage, I mean. I would never hear the last of it if Gussie got hold of it, and there is a reason why I want everyone to suppose that everything is as it used to be."

"Well, you can trust me, little girl; but I say again, I cannot see the point."

"And I hope you will not get particularly sharp-sighted all at once, either, papa," she replied, shaking her finger at him; "so don't you go spying into my little affairs, until I give you liberty. Dear papa, there is nothing to tell; when there is, you shall hear it the first thing," and she stooped again and kissed his cheek.