Chapter IV
FEEDING THE PEACOCKS
It was indeed a charming sight, the twelve stately birds perched on thebroad stone balustrade, or prancing slowly along the terrace, with thesun gleaming on their green and golden necks and the glories of theirgorgeous plumes, widespread, or sweeping like rich trains behind them.In pretty contrast to the splendid creatures was their young mistress,in her simple morning dress and fur-trimmed hood and mantle, as shestood feeding the tame pets from her hand, calling their fanciful names,laughing at their pranks, and heartily enjoying the winter sunshine, thefresh wind, and the girlish pastime. As Treherne slowly approached, hewatched her with lover's eyes, and found her very sweet and blithe, anddearer in his sight than ever. She had shunned him carefully all the daybefore, had parted at night with a hasty handshake, and had not come asusual to bid him good-morning in the library. He had taken no notice ofthe change as yet, but now, remembering his promise to his aunt, heresolved to let the girl know that he fully understood the relationwhich henceforth was to exist between them.
"Good-morning, cousin. Shall I drive you away, if I take a turn or twohere?" he said, in a cheerful tone, but with a half-reproachful glance.
She looked at him an instant, then went to him with extended hand andcheeks rosier than before, while her frank eyes filled, and her voicehad a traitorous tremor in it, as she said, impetuously: "I _will_ bemyself for a moment, in spite of everything. Maurice, don't think meunkind, don't reproach me, or ask my leave to come where I am. There isa reason for the change you see in me; it's not caprice, it isobedience."
"My dear girl, I know it. I meant to speak of it, and show you that Iunderstand. Annon is a good fellow, as worthy of you as any man can be,and I wish you all the happiness you deserve."
"Do you?" And her eyes searched his face keenly.
"Yes; do you doubt it?" And so well did he conceal his love, thatneither face, voice, nor manner betrayed a hint of it.
Her eyes fell, a cloud passed over her clear countenance, and shewithdrew her hand, as if to caress the hungry bird that gently pecked atthe basket she held. As if to change the conversation, she saidplayfully, "Poor Argus, you have lost your fine feathers, and so alldesert you, except kind little Juno, who never forgets her friends.There, take it all, and share between you."
Treherne smiled, and said quickly, "I am a human Argus, and you havebeen a kind little Juno to me since I lost my plumes. Continue to be so,and you will find me a very faithful friend."
"I will." And as she answered, her old smile came back and her eyes methis again.
"Thanks! Now we shall get on happily. I don't ask or expect the oldlife--that is impossible. I knew that when lovers came, the friendwould fall into the background; and I am content to be second, where Ihave so long been first. Do not think you neglect me; be happy withyour lover, dear, and when you have no pleasanter amusement, come andsee old Maurice."
She turned her head away, that he might not see the angry color in hercheeks, the trouble in her eyes, and when she spoke, it was to saypetulantly, "I wish Jasper and Mamma would leave me in peace. I hatelovers and want none. If Frank teases, I'll go into a convent and so berid of him."
Maurice laughed, and turned her face toward himself, saying, in hispersuasive voice, "Give him a trial first, to please your mother. It cando no harm and may amuse you. Frank is already lost, and, as you areheart-whole, why not see what you can do for him? I shall have a newstudy, then, and not miss you so much."
"You are very kind; I'll do my best. I wish Mrs. Snowdon would come, ifshe is coming; I've an engagement at two, and Frank will look tragicalif I'm not ready. He is teaching me billiards, and I really like thegame, though I never thought I should."
"That looks well. I hope you'll learn a double lesson, and Annon find adocile pupil in both."
"You are very pale this morning; are you in pain, Maurice?" suddenlyasked Octavia, dropping the tone of assumed ease and gaiety under whichshe had tried to hide her trouble.
"Yes, but it will soon pass. Mrs. Snowdon is coming. I saw her at thehall door a moment ago. I will show her the peacocks, if you want to go.She won't mind the change, I dare say, as you don't like her, and I do."
"No, I am sure of that. It was an arrangement, perhaps? I understand. Iwill not play Mademoiselle De Trop."
Sudden fire shone in the girl's eyes, sudden contempt curled her lip,and a glance full of meaning went from her cousin to the door, whereMrs. Snowdon appeared, waiting for her maid to bring her some additionalwrappings.
"You allude to the note you stole. How came you to play that prank,Tavie?" asked Treherne tranquilly.
"I saw her put it under the urn. I thought it was for Jasper, and I tookit," she said boldly.
"Why for Jasper?"
"I remembered his speaking of meeting her long ago, and describing herbeauty enthusiastically--and so did you."
"You have a good memory."
"I have for everything concerning those I love. I observed her mannerof meeting my brother, his devotion to her, and, when they stoodlaughing together before the fire, I felt sure that she wished to charmhim again."
"Again? Then she did charm him once?" asked Treherne, anxious to knowhow much Jasper had told his sister.
"He always denied it, and declared that you were the favorite."
"Then why not think the note for me?" he asked.
"I do now" was the sharp answer.
"But she told you it was for the major, and sent it."
"She deceived me; I am not surprised. I am glad Jasper is safe, and Iwish you a pleasant tete-a-tete."
Bowing with unwonted dignity, Octavia set down her basket, and walkedaway in one direction as Mrs. Snowdon approached in another.
"I have done it now," sighed Treherne, turning from the girlish figureto watch the stately creature who came sweeping toward him withnoiseless grace.
Brilliancy and splendor became Mrs. Snowdon; she enjoyed luxury, and herbeauty made many things becoming which in a plainer woman would havebeen out of taste, and absurd. She had wrapped herself in a genuineEastern burnous of scarlet, blue, and gold; the hood drawn over her headframed her fine face in rich hues, and the great gilt tassels shoneagainst her rippling black hair. She wore it with grace, and thebarbaric splendor of the garment became her well. The fresh air touchedher cheeks with a delicate color; her usually gloomy eyes were brilliantnow, and the smile that parted her lips was full of happiness.
"Welcome, Cleopatra!" cried Treherne, with difficulty repressing alaugh, as the peacocks screamed and fled before the rustling amplitudeof her drapery.
"I might reply by calling you Thaddeus of Warsaw, for you look veryromantic and Polish with your pale, pensive face, and your splendidfurs," she answered, as she paused beside him with admiration veryvisibly expressed in her eyes.
Treherne disliked the look, and rather abruptly said, as he offered herthe basket of bread, "I have disposed of my cousin, and offered to dothe honors of the peacocks. Here they are--will you feed them?"
"No, thank you--I care nothing for the fowls, as you know; I came tospeak to you," she said impatiently.
"I am at your service."
"I wish to ask you a question or two--is it permitted?"
"What man ever refused Mrs. Snowdon a request?"
"Nay, no compliments; from you they are only satirical evasions. I wasdeceived when abroad, and rashly married that old man. Tell me truly howthings stand."
"Jasper has all. I have nothing."
"I am glad of it."
"Many thanks for the hearty speech. You at least speak sincerely," hesaid bitterly.
"I do, Maurice--I do; let me prove it."
Treherne's chair was close beside the balustrade. Mrs. Snowdon leaned onthe carved railing, with her back to the house and her face screened bya tall urn. Looking steadily at him, she said rapidly and low, "Youthought I wavered between you and Jasper, when we parted two years ago.I did; but it was not between title and fortune that I hesitated. It w
asbetween duty and love. My father, a fond, foolish old man, had set hisheart on seeing me a lady. I was his all; my beauty was his delight, andno untitled man was deemed worthy of me. I loved him tenderly. You maydoubt this, knowing how selfish, reckless, and vain I am, but I have aheart, and with better training had been a better woman. No matter, itis too late now. Next my father, I loved you. Nay, hear me--I _will_clear myself in your eyes. I mean no wrong to the general. He is kind,indulgent, generous; I respect him--I am grateful, and while he lives, Ishall be true to him."
"Then be silent now. Do not recall the past, Edith; let it sleep, forboth our sakes," began Treherne; but she checked him imperiously.
"It shall, when I am done. I loved you, Maurice; for, of all the gay,idle, pleasure-seeking men I saw about me, you were the only one whoseemed to have a thought beyond the folly of the hour. Under the seemingfrivolity of your life lay something noble, heroic, and true. I feltthat you had a purpose, that your present mood was but transitory--ayoung man's holiday, before the real work of his life began. Thisattracted, this won me; for even in the brief regard you then gave me,there was an earnestness no other man had shown. I wanted your respect;I longed to earn your love, to share your life, and prove that even inmy neglected nature slept the power of canceling a frivolous past by anoble future. Oh, Maurice, had you lingered one week more, I nevershould have been the miserable thing I am!"
There her voice faltered and failed, for all the bitterness of lostlove, peace, and happiness sounded in the pathetic passion of thatexclamation. She did not weep, for tears seldom dimmed those tragicaleyes of hers; but she wrung her hands in mute despair, and looked downinto the frost-blighted gardens below, as if she saw there a true symbolof her own ruined life. Treherne uttered not a word, but set his teethwith an almost fierce glance toward the distant figure of Sir Jasper,who was riding gaily away, like one unburdened by a memory or a care.
Hurriedly Mrs. Snowdon went on, "My father begged and commanded me tochoose your cousin. I could not break his heart, and asked for time,hoping to soften him. While I waited, that mysterious affair hurried youfrom Paris, and then came the wreck, the illness, and the rumor that oldSir Jasper had disinherited both nephews. They told me you were dying,and I became a passive instrument in my father's hands. I promised torecall and accept your cousin, but the old man died before it was done,and then I cared not what became of me.
"General Snowdon was my father's friend; he pitied me; he saw mydesolate, destitute state, my despair and helplessness. He comforted,sustained, and saved me. I was grateful; and when he offered me hisheart and home, I accepted them. He knew I had no love to give; but as afriend, a daughter, I would gladly serve him, and make his decliningyears as happy as I could. It was all over, when I heard that you werealive, afflicted, and poor. I longed to come and live for you. My newbonds became heavy fetters then, my wealth oppressed me, and I wasdoubly wretched--for I dared not tell my trouble, and it nearly drove memad. I have seen you now; I know that you are happy; I read yourcousin's love and see a peaceful life in store for you. This mustcontent me, and I must learn to bear it as I can."
She paused, breathless and pale, and walked rapidly along the terrace,as if to hide or control the agitation that possessed her.
Treherne still sat silent, but his heart leaped within him, as hethought, "She sees that Octavia loves me! A woman's eye is quick todetect love in another, and she asserts what I begin to hope. Mycousin's manner just now, her dislike of Annon, her new shyness with me;it may be true, and if it is--Heaven help me--what am I saying! I mustnot hope, nor wish, nor dream; I must renounce and forget."
He leaned his head upon his hand, and sat so still Mrs. Snowdon rejoinedhim, pale, but calm and self-possessed. As she drew near, she marked hisattitude, the bitter sadness of his face, and hope sprang up within her.Perhaps she was mistaken; perhaps he did not love his cousin; perhaps hestill remembered the past, and still regretted the loss of the heart shehad just laid bare before him. Her husband was failing, and might dieany day. And then, free, rich, beautiful, and young, what might she notbecome to Treherne, helpless, poor, and ambitious? With all her faults,she was generous, and this picture charmed her fancy, warmed her heart,and comforted her pain.
"Maurice," she said softly, pausing again beside him, "if I mistake youand your hopes, it is because I dare ask nothing for myself; but if evera time shall come when I have liberty to give or help, ask of me_anything_, and it is gladly yours."
He understood her, pitied her, and, seeing that she found consolation ina distant hope, he let her enjoy it while she might. Gravely, yetgratefully, he spoke, and pressed the hand extended to him with animpulsive gesture.
"Generous as ever, Edith, and impetuously frank. Thank you for yoursincerity, your kindness, and the affection you once gave me. I say'once,' for now duty, truth, and honor bar us from each other. My lifemust be solitary, yet I shall find work to do, and learn to be content.You owe all devotion to the good old man who loves you, and will notfail him, I am sure. Leave the future and the past, but let us make thepresent what it may be--a time to forgive and forget, to take heart andbegin anew. Christmas is a fitting time for such resolves, and the birthof friendship such as ours may be."
Something in his tone and manner struck her, and, eyeing him with softwonder, she exclaimed, "How changed you are!"
"Need you tell me that?" And he glanced at his helpless limbs with abitter yet pathetic look of patience.
"No, no--not so! I mean in mind, not body. Once you were gay andcareless, eager and fiery, like Jasper; now you are grave and quiet, orcheerful, and so very kind. Yet, in spite of illness and loss, you seemtwice the man you were, and something wins respect, as well asadmiration--and love."
Her dark eyes filled as the last word left her lips, and the beauty of atouched heart shone in her face. Maurice looked up quickly, asking withsudden earnestness, "Do you see it? Then it is true. Yes, I _am_changed, thank God! And she has done it."
"Who?" demanded his companion jealously.
"Octavia. Unconsciously, yet surely, she has done much for me, and thisyear of seeming loss and misery has been the happiest, most profitableof my life. I have often heard that afflictions were the best teachers,and I believe it now."
Mrs. Snowdon shook her head sadly.
"Not always; they are tormentors to some. But don't preach, Maurice. Iam still a sinner, though you incline to sainthood, and I have onequestion more to ask. What was it that took you and Jasper so suddenlyaway from Paris?"
"That I can never tell you."
"I shall discover it for myself, then."
"It is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible to a determined woman."
"You can neither wring, surprise, nor bribe this secret from the twopersons who hold it. I beg of you to let it rest," said Treherneearnestly.
"I have a clue, and I shall follow it; for I am convinced that somethingis wrong, and you are--"
"Dear Mrs. Snowdon, are you so charmed with the birds that you forgetyour fellow-beings, or so charmed with one fellow-being that you forgetthe birds?"
As the sudden question startled both, Rose Talbot came along theterrace, with hands full of holly and a face full of merry mischief,adding as she vanished, "I shall tell Tavie that feeding thepeacocks is such congenial amusement for lovers, she and Mr. Annonhad better try it."
"Saucy gypsy!" muttered Treherne.
But Mrs. Snowdon said, with a smile of double meaning, "Many a true wordis spoken in jest."
The Abbot's Ghost, or Maurice Treherne's Temptation: A Christmas Story Page 4