Wee Wifie Part 17

All women liked Erle Huntingdon. He was so gentle and chivalrous in his manner to them; he never seemed to think of himself when he was talking to them; and his bonhomie and gay good-humor made him a charming companion.

Erle never understood himself how caressing his manners could be at times. He liked all women, old and young, but only one had really touched his heart. It was strange, then, that more than one hoped that she had found favor in his eyes. Erle's sunshiny nature made him a universal favorite, but it may be doubted whether any of his friends really read him correctly. Now and then an older man told him he wanted ballast, and warned him not to carry that easy good nature too far or it might lead him into mischief; but the spoiled child of fortune only shook his head with a laugh.

But in reality Erle Huntingdon's character wanted back-bone; his will, not a strong one, was likely to be dominated by a stronger. With all his pleasantness and natural good qualities he was vacillating and weak; if any pressure or difficulty should come into his life, it would be likely for him to be weighed in the balance and found wanting.

At present his life had been smooth and uneventful; he had yet to test the hollowness of human happiness, to learn that the highest sort of life is not merely to be cradled in luxury and to fare sumptuously every day. The purple and fine linen are good enough in their way, and the myrrh and the aloes and the ca.s.sia, but what does the wise man say--"Rejoice, oh, young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things G.o.d will bring thee into judgment ... for childhood and youth are vanity."

Erle knew that a new interest had lately come into his life; that a certain shabby room, that was yet more homelike to him than any room in Belgrave House, was always before his eyes: that a girl in a brown dress, with sweet, wistful eyes, was never absent from his memory.

Neither Fern nor he owned the truth to themselves; they were ignorant as yet that they were commencing the first chapter of their life-idyl.

Fern had a vague sense that the room was brighter when Erle was there looking at her with those kindly glances. She never owned to herself that he was her prince, and that she had found favor in his eyes. She was far too humble for that; but she knew the days were somehow glorified and transfigured when she had seen him, and Erle knew that no face was so lovely to him as this girl's face, no voice half so sweet in his ears, and yet people were beginning to connect his name with Miss Selby, Lady Maltravers' beautiful niece.

He was thinking of Miss Selby now as he looked across at Fern. She had taken up her work again, and Percy had thrown himself into the rocking-chair beside her with a discontented expression on his face.

He was telling himself that Miss Selby was handsome, of course strikingly handsome; but somehow she lacked this girl's sweet graciousness. Just then Fern raised her eyes, and a quick, sensitive color came into her face as she encountered his fixed glance.

"Ah, do you know, Miss Trafford," he said quickly, to put her at her ease, "I have promised to spend Christmas with my cousin, Sir Hugh Redmond. I am rather anxious to see his wife. Report says she is a very pretty girl."

"I did not know Sir Hugh Redmond was your cousin," returned Fern, without raising her eyes from her work.

"Yes, on my mother's side, but I have not been to Redmond Hall for an age. Old Hugh had rather a disappointment last year; he was engaged to another lady, and she jilted him--at least that is the popular edition of the story; but anyhow the poor old fellow seemed rather badly hit."

"And he has married so soon!" in an incredulous tone.

"Of course, caught at the rebound like many other fellows. Don't you know how the old adage runs, Miss Trafford:

"'Shall I wasting with despaire Die because a woman's faire?

If she be not faire for me, What care I how faire she be?'

that is the right sort of spirit, eh, Percy."

"How should I know?" returned Percy, morosely--he was evidently out of humor about something; and then, as though he feared to bring on himself one of Erle's jesting; remarks, he roused himself with an effort. "Well, Toddlekins, how's Flibbertigibbet; come and sit on my knee, and I will tell you the story of Mr. Harlequin Puss-in-boots."

"My name is not Toddlekins," returned Fluff indignantly, "and I don't care about Flibbertigibbet or Puss-in-boots; your stories are stupid, Percy, they never have any end." And then, with the capriciousness of a spoiled child, she sidled up to her chief favorite, Erle, and put her hands confidingly in his.

"When are you going to take me again to the Zoological Gardens, Mr.

Erle?" she said, in a coaxing voice; "Fern wants to go, too, don't you, dear?" but her sister shook her head at her with a faint smile, and went on with her work.

"I don't see my way clear yet awhile, p.u.s.s.y," replied Erle, as he smoothed Fluff's curls, and here he and Percy exchanged meaning looks; for during his grandfather's absence from town Erle had paid frequent visits to Beulah Place, and on one occasion had actually carried off the child for a day at the Zoological Gardens in spite of Fern's demur that she hardly knew what her mother would say.

"But surely you can do as you like, Mr. Erle," persisted the chill, earnestly. "Percy tells us that you are so rich, and ride such beautiful horses in the park, and that you have nothing to do but just enjoy yourself; why can't you take Fern and me to the Zoological Gardens?"

"Oh, Fluff, Fluff!" remonstrated her sister, in a distressed tone, "what will Mr. Erle think of you?"

Erle looked embarra.s.sed at the child's speech, but Percy laughed, and the next minute he rose.

"Do you mind if I leave you for a few minutes, Fern? I have a little business that will take me about a quarter of an hour--oh, I will be back in time," as Erle seemed inclined to remonstrate; "you may depend upon it that I will not make you late for dinner, as la Belle Evelyn is to be there," and with a nod at his sister he left the room.

Fern looked a little troubled. "I hope he has not gone to meet--" and then she flushed up and did not finish her sentence; but Erle understood her in a moment.

"Miss Davenport would not be pleased, I suppose--oh, yes, of course he has gone to meet her. What a pity your mother is not here, Miss Trafford; she would have kept him in order?"

"Crystal will be so angry," replied Fern, anxiously, and dropping her voice so that Fluff should not overhear her; but the child, disappointed that her request had been refused, had betaken herself to the furthest corner of the room with her kitten, to whom she was whispering her displeasure. "She never likes Percy to meet her or show her any attention; I have told him so over and over again, but he will not listen to me."

"I am afraid he is rather smitten with your friend, Miss Davenport--she is wonderfully handsome, certainly. Yes, one can not be surprised at Percy's infatuation--you are the gainer in one way, Miss Trafford, for Percy never came half so often until Miss Davenport lived with you."

"That makes it all the more wrong," returned Fern, firmly; "it was Percy's duty to come and see mother, and yet he stayed away for months at a time. Crystal has never encouraged him--she never will. I know in her heart she does not like Percy, and yet he will persist in hara.s.sing her."

"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady," returned Erle, lightly; and then, as he saw the tears in Fern's eyes, his manner changed. "You must not trouble yourself about it," he said, kindly; "it will be Percy's own fault if he gets badly bitten: even I, a complete stranger to Miss Davenport--for I believe I have not seen her more than three times--can quite indorse what you say; her manner is most repelling to Percy. He must be bewitched, I think."

"I wish he were different," she replied, with a sigh; "I know he makes mother often very unhappy, though she never says so. He seems to find fault with us for our poverty, and says hard things to mother because she will work for us all."

"Yes, I know, and yet Percy is not a bad-hearted fellow," replied Erle, in a sympathizing tone; "he is terribly sore, I know, because your mother refuses his help; he has told me over and over again that with his handsome allowance he could keep her in comfort, and that he knows that his grandfather would not object. It makes him bitter--it does indeed, Miss Trafford, to have his gifts refused."

"How can we help it?" returned Fern, in a choking voice. "Percy ought to know that we can not use any of Mr. Huntingdon's money: neither my mother nor I would ever touch a penny of it. Don't you know,"

struggling with her tears, "that my poor father died broken-hearted, and he might have saved him?"

"Yes, I know," replied Erle, looking kindly at the weeping girl, "and I for one can not say you are wrong. My uncle has dealt very harshly and I fear cruelly by his own flesh and blood--my poor mother often cried as she told me so; but she always said that it was not for us to blame him who lived under his roof and profited by his generosity. He was a benefactor to us in our trouble--for we were poor, too." But here Erle checked himself abruptly, for he did not care to tell Fern that his father had been a gambler, and had squandered all his wife's property; but he remembered almost as vividly as though it were yesterday, when he was playing in their miserable lodgings at Naples, after his father's death--how a grave, stern-faced man came into the room and sat down beside his mother; and one speech had reached his ears.

"Never mind all that, Beatrice, you are happier as his widow than his wife. Forget the past, and come home with me, and your boy shall be mine."

Erle certainly loved his uncle, and it always pained him to remember his wrong-doing. In his boyish generosity he had once ventured to intercede for the disinherited daughter, and had even gone so far as to implore that his uncle would never put him in Percy's place; but the burst of anger with which his words were received cowed him effectually.

"A Trafford shall never inherit my property," Mr. Huntingdon had said, with a frown so black that the boy positively quailed under it; "I would leave it all to a hospital first--never presume to speak to me of this again. Percy does not require any pity; when he leaves Oxford he will read for the Bar. We have arranged all that; he will have a handsome allowance; and with his capacity--for his tutor tells me he is a clever fellow--he will soon carve his way to fortune;" and after this, Erle certainly held his peace.

CHAPTER XIV.

CRYSTAL.

I do remember it. 'Twas such a face As Guido would have loved to look upon.

CORNWALL.

She was as tender As infancy and grace.

SHAKESPEARE.

Fern looked a little surprised at Erle's speech. "I did not know you had been poor, too," she returned, drying her eyes, and taking up her work again.

"Yes, but I was very young, and knew little about it; my poor mother was the one to suffer. Well, she wanted for nothing when my uncle took us to Belgrave House; he was very good to her until she died; and,"

with a slight hesitation in his voice, "he is good to me."

"Yes, and you are right to be fond of him," returned Fern, frankly.

"Sometimes I think it is not quite kind of me to speak to you of Percy and our troubles, because it seems to cast a reflection on one you love and"--but Erle interrupted her.

"I hope you will never withhold your confidence, Miss Trafford; I should not feel that you treated me as a friend if you did not allow me to share some of your troubles. Percy and I are like brothers, and Percy's mother and sister--" but here he paused and a flush crossed his face. How could he tell this girl that she should be as a sister to him, when he knew that even to be alone with her for a few minutes made his heart beat with strange thrills of happiness? His sister, never!