The Opened Shutters: A Novel

by Clara Louise Burnham

  CHAPTER XIII

  UNCLE AND NIECE

  For a few moments Sylvia sat absorbed in her train of thought, andsuddenly coming to herself, found the stranger's intent gaze upon her.He noted her sudden embarrassment, and hastened to speak.

  "Thinkright's worst enemy could never accuse him of preaching what hedoes not practice," he said.

  "Has he any enemies?"

  "He's liable to have one in me." The shaggy brows drew down, but thethin, smooth-shaven lips twitched, and the girl saw that the speech hada humorous intent.

  She smiled. "Then I shall protect him. He is my cousin."

  "Oh, you're related, eh?"

  "Yes, and I love him. He is the only one of my relations that I canendure!"

  "H'm. Poor relations."

  "No, indeed. Rich relations. I am the poor relation, that is thetrouble; but--if you know Thinkright you can imagine how he talks to meabout it."

  "Preaches. I suppose so. Hard on you."

  "No." Sylvia shook her head and patted the water with an oar. "He hashelped me. He knows wonderful ways of helping people."

  "Well, I'll thank him not to send you out in this water in a boat thatyou don't know how to manage."

  The form of the irritable declaration caused Sylvia to view hercompanion with large eyes.

  "Now you're here you might as well take a lesson," went on the judge."Try rowing a bit. If you're going to stay here you'll need to knowhow."

  "But I'm not going to stay here," rejoined Sylvia quickly.

  "Why not?" The odd little man scowled so intently at her that the girlbegan to feel uneasy and glanced shoreward.

  "If you detest all your other relations and love Thinkright then whyisn't his home the place for you?"

  "It--the trouble is it isn't his home."

  "Whose, then?" Judge Trent braced himself in expectation of the answer.

  "The farm belongs to--to a celebrated lawyer who uses it for a summerhome," replied the girl.

  "Make friends with him," suggested the judge.

  Sylvia's breath caught. "If--if you knew how I don't want to and how--Imust!" she returned naively.

  Her companion smiled grimly. "Well, here, now,--he's an old curmudgeon,I know him,--never mind him. Let's have a rowing lesson. Take theoars,--there, at that point. Now!" The speaker bent toward the younggirl, and his dry hands closed over hers. She glanced at him half infright, and away again as he guided her awkward movements until theboat moved slowly, but with tolerable evenness, through the water. "Nowyou're getting it, you see," he said at last.

  Sylvia began to forget her embarrassment in interest.

  "Not too deep,--only bury the oar." The speaker glanced up into theeager face so near him. Coral lips, pearly teeth, sunnycurls,--loneliness, the stage, an actor husband--

  "Turn it right there, steadily; see the water drip off? That's theway"--

  Himself with his nose buried in a pile of papers, Martha hysterical,Dunham morose, but himself always unmoved. Laura's baby! He rememberedthat he had sent her a silver cup when she was born.

  "Look out, a steady pull,--steady. That's enough now. You're tired.This boat is a tub. You should have a light one."

  Sylvia laughed, and let her teacher pull the oars across the boat.

  "Now we'll float a while," he said, resuming his seat in the bow. "SoThinkright wants you to forgive everybody; love everybody, eh? I knowthat's his tack."

  Sylvia was breathing fast from her exertions. "Yes," she nodded. "I'venever had much practice in loving people."

  "No? That's the Trent in you."

  She lifted her eyes in surprise at the abrupt reply. He nodded. "Yousaid Thinkright's your cousin, then so is Judge Trent."

  "Uncle," returned Sylvia briefly.

  "Ah. One of the detested."

  She lifted her shoulder with a gesture of dread. "I mustn't say so,"she answered.

  He watched her through a moment of silence.

  "I wish you luck getting over it," he remarked dryly. "It's againstyou--being a Trent."

  "But," said the girl simply, "Thinkright says if I'll only keepremembering that I haven't any relations except God, and His children,I shan't find anybody to hate."

  The judge's eyes snapped. "H'm. I hope there's something in that. Ihope there is. I've never paid much attention to Thinkright's littlepilgrimages among his rose-colored clouds, but perhaps it might be tomy advantage to do so; perhaps it might. The fact is, girl,--I'm sorryto confess it because I know it will be unwelcome news, but--I'm yourUncle Calvin."

  Sylvia grasped the side of the boat, grew pale, and stared. "Oh, no!"she exclaimed. "He has a full beard. He has a round face."

  "Once upon a time, as the story books say, he had."

  The girl's eyes closed and her lips compressed.

  "Sylvia, remember the Tide Mill." The judge's voice was rough withfeeling. "Your eyes look like its shuttered windows. I'm not a monster.I'm only a human machine that didn't know how to stop grinding. I'vecome up here to tell you so. I thought our introductions were bettermade away from the family, and I expected to find you walking in thewoods."

  Sylvia opened her eyes again, widely, apprehensively. "Is Aunt Marthahere, too?"

  "No. I thought one of us would be sufficient. I saw Miss Derwent inBoston recently. She gave me news of you."

  "Uncle Calvin," began the girl in a low, uneven voice, "I have saidvery uncivil things. Why did you deceive me?"

  "I had no idea at first that you were my niece. I looked for some onetotally different."

  Sylvia's heart was beating with unwonted quickness. This was the manwho had been willing to pay frugally for her living until she couldmake one for herself, while too indifferent even to see her; butThinkright's talks had turned a searchlight upon her own predilectionsand expectations, with the effect of distracting her attention somewhatfrom the shortcomings of others. Her present excitement in thediscovery of her uncle was mingled with mortification at theremembrance of what her thought had once demanded of him. The boatrocked gently over the blue ripples; the sunshine illumined alike theburnished greens of grass and foliage and the weather-beaten pallor ofthe implacable Tide Mill. The shrewd, lined face under the high hatkept piercing eyes on the youthful, drooping countenance opposite.

  "Yes, you're totally different from what I expected," he said again."You're no more like your mother than I am."

  She flashed a suddenly suspicious glance up at the speaker. "I am proudto be like my father," she declared.

  The judge shrugged his shoulders, and the girl continued hotly: "I'vecome to a place where no one has a kind thought or word for him. I lovehim twice as much as before."

  "H'm," grunted Judge Trent. "Even Thinkright draws the line there, doeshe? Shouldn't wonder. Sam Lacey carried Laura off under his very nose."

  "Thinkright doesn't talk about him," returned the girl; "but thatspeaks volumes."

  "I'm not going to, either. I'm glad you loved him, and that you stilldo; and now let's see what can be done in our situation. Practicallyyou detest me, but theoretically you love me _a la_ Thinkright. Is thatabout the size of it?"

  Sylvia wiped her eyes and gave an April smile.

  "Now," went on the judge, "supposing we take the latter clause as ourworking hypothesis. We're both Trents and chock-full of old Adam. I'venever had any use for girls, and you have no use for old clams ofuncles who keep their heads in their shells when they ought to becoming up to the scratch; but, after all, what's the good of hating oneanother?"

  "It's no good," responded Sylvia quickly.

  "Well, then, supposing you let me in on the rose-colored cloudproposition, too."

  Sylvia's reply was a question. "Did you really come up here on purposeto see me?" she asked.

  "I did, indeed. Ought to be back in the office this minute. Dunham--youknow Dunham by the way--will have troubles of his own before I can getback."

  "How is Mr. Dunham?" asked Sylvia, again splashing the water gentlywith an oar.

 
"As well as could be expected of such a fragile flower. He's strainingat the leash now to get to Boston to call on Miss Derwent. I expect myarrival at the office will be the signal for a cloud of dust in whichhe will disappear, heading for the first train. A very fine girl, too.I 'm glad you met her. If I ever admired girls--except when I'm walkingon rosy clouds--I should admire her."

  "I knew you did!" exclaimed Sylvia, with a little pinch at the heart.

  "You knew it, why?" asked the lawyer blankly.

  "I don't know. I felt it."

  Judge Trent bit his lip in a certain grim amusement. His niece, then,sometimes did him the honor to think about him still, even though shehad ceased to kiss his picture.

  "I'm a very jealous person," declared Sylvia frankly, looking up athim, "and vain and selfish and lazy. It's as well for you to know it."

  "Indeed? So Thinkright has impressed upon you that open confession isgood for the soul, eh?"

  "Oh--Thinkright!" ejaculated Sylvia, with a sudden start. "I forgot.It's all wrong to say those things even about one's self."

  Judge Trent nodded. "I've heard that contended. Somebody says thatself-condemnation is only self-conceit turned wrong side out."

  "Yes." Sylvia nodded. "I suppose from any standpoint it's still talkingabout yourself; but I didn't mean that. He says we mustn't say suchthings because it fastens the wrong more tightly to us. Of course if wedo wrong we have to own it and repent, but,"--Sylvia heaved a greatsigh. "That's only the beginning, the easiest part. It's _doing_differently and not in the old way that's hard,--_not_ thinking anddoing jealous, vain, selfish things." She patted the water againthoughtfully.

  "Well, give me a hand up, Sylvia. I'm an old dog, but perhaps uponoccasion I can bound into the rosy clouds to stroll with you."

  Sylvia shook her head knowingly. "If you do bound up you'll find youhave struck something more substantial than clouds; and the rose-colormay appear,--yes, it _is_ there," she interrupted herself with suddenconviction. "I've perceived it in flashes, but"--her voice sank, andshe shook her head again,--"it doesn't seem rosy all the time."

  "Well," returned the lawyer, "there's a certain amount of reassurancein the fact that you won't dare detest either me or Miss Lacey."

  At the latter name color flashed over the girl's face, and shestretched out her hand impulsively. "Oh, it's so hard to love AuntMartha," she cried.

  The judge pursed his lips, averted his eyes, and rubbed his chin thewrong way.

  "I suppose you do," she continued dejectedly.

  "We-ll," he returned, his sharp eyes resting on the pointedfirs,--"from the rosy-cloud altitude, of course, of course."

  "Then you don't like her?" cried Sylvia hopefully.

  "Of course I do," returned the lawyer hastily. "Most certainly. A veryfine woman; a capable woman in every way." As he spoke he scanned thebanks uneasily, as though fearing that Martha might have repented ofher refusal to come in his place, and had followed him. "She is mostworthy of respect and--and"--his voice trailed away into silence. "Giveher a hand up, too, Sylvia," he added after a moment, "and we'll alllet bygones be bygones together. What do you say?"

  "It's easier to have you with me, Uncle Calvin," returned Sylvianaively.

  The judge felt the embarrassment of guilt. This was the result of hisleaving Martha to bear the heat and burden of Hotel Frisbie alone. Hershad been the hours of tears and anxiety. He had kept on the even tenorof his legal way, troubling himself about nothing, and his negativemisdemeanors were less heavily visited upon him. Compared to himselfMartha was innocent; and it was the way of the world that such shouldsuffer always with the guilty, and sometimes even in their place. Hetold himself, however, that his tenure on the situation was too lightto be risked. He took ignoble refuge in generalities.

  "Don't rely too much on first impressions, Sylvia. Your Aunt Martha hasgrieved about you. Remember, 'to err is human, to forgive divine.'Moreover,"--the speaker's lips twitched again,--"what will Thinkrightsay if you refuse her standing-room on our cloud? Consider well!"

  Sylvia smiled through bright drops.

  "Now, then, change seats with me," continued the judge, "and I'll rowyou in."

  At the same moment Thinkright, having been absent for hours on someerrand, was being greeted on his return by Mrs. Lem, who came out tothe doorstep to meet him.

  "Guess who's come," she said.

  He looked up inquiringly. "Is Miss Derwent back again?"

  "No. You'd never guess who it is this season o' the year. It's JudgeTrent."

  "Where is he?"

  "Went down to the basin to find Miss Sylvy."

  "Oh, did he?" Thinkright smiled in his interest.

  "Yes. Kind of a touchin' meetin', I expect," remarked Mrs. Lem, liftingher pompadour and sighing sentimentally. Judge Trent had surprised herin a state of sleek and simple coiffure; but no sooner had his high hatdisappeared down the hill than she flew into the bedroom and remediedthe modest workaday appearance of her head; nor would the pompadourabate one half inch of its majestic proportions until he took his trainback to Boston. She hoped she knew what was due to the lord of all hesurveyed.

  "How long has he been gone?" asked Thinkright.

  "Oh, the best part of an hour, I should say."

  "Then he must have found her," remarked the other, still with hisspeculative smile.

  "Yes, indeed, and I hope she'll bring him home soon. It's real raw onthe water to-day in spite of the sun, and the judge's bronicals ain'tjest as strong as they might be."

  "Oh, Mrs. Lem, Mrs. Lem," laughed Thinkright quietly, entering thehouse and hanging up his hat.

  "There they come now!" she exclaimed, herself hastily retreating intothe kitchen.

  Thinkright looked out to see Sylvia's uncovered bright head level withthe judge's high hat as they strolled up the hill. The lawyer's handswere clasped behind his back, and Thinkright augured peace from thedeliberation of the strollers.

  He met them at the door. Sylvia's grave face changed to a pensive smileat sight of him, and Judge Trent gave his cousin's hand a dry, shortshake.

  "How are you, Thinkright? See if you can't find a light boat andmanageable oars for Sylvia in this vicinity. I found her catching crabsand losing oars at a great rate down there, and splashing herself tillshe resembled a mermaid. Hello, Minty," for here the child drew herdoubtful and reluctant feet into the room, her wide eyes always alittle shy at first of the brusque and powerful man in the high hat. "Ihave something for you." The judge began feeling in his coat pocket. "Ibought you a bag of gumdrops, and regret that I forgot and have beensitting on them all the afternoon." He produced the paper bag."Fortunately, they are the durable brand for sale at the village andwarranted to withstand any pressure. At worst they will be lozengesnow."

  "Why did you surprise us?" asked Thinkright, as Minty beaminglyaccepted the striped bag. "Why didn't you let me send the team over?"

  "Oh, you know I'm a creature of impulse," returned the lawyer, with hisdry smile; "I acted with my usual lack of calculation. Made up my mindto come one minute, and took the train the next."

  Thinkright did not reply, but glanced toward Sylvia, who was pullingthe blue sweater off over her head.