Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 15

"Well," I said, smoothing the raven braids of Jessie's hair, "the worst is over now. Mr. Bosworth will think all the better of you for being truthful and honest; we shall have him for a friend still, never fear."

Jessie shook her head quite dejectedly.

"No, that can never be; these rides and invitations have been misunderstood. He really thought I was encouraging him, when you know, dear Aunt Matty, I hadn't the least idea of what it all meant. He talks of going to Europe at once, or--or--"

"Or what?" I inquired, with an inclination to smile; "drown himself by the old mill, perhaps?"

She glanced at me a little roguishly, and said, with a half-sigh, "Yes, aunt, I believe he almost threatened that."

"So much the better," I said, gravely enough; for she was on the alert for any signs of ridicule. "The disappointment that takes that form is not killing."

"Don't!" she said, with a contraction of the forehead, which gave evidence of real pain, "the very remembrance of his face is a reproach to me; and there _they_ sat so quietly in the shade of a tree enjoying the scenery. To them, I dare say, the world contained nothing else to think of. Mrs. Dennison even pointed at us with her whip, as if we made up the figures of a picture."

"Well, but she did not know," I suggested.

"Heaven forbid!"

We were interrupted then, and Jessie went to her mother, whose gentle sympathy was always at command, though the cause of grief might be unexplained. The presence of that woman was like a calm autumn day--it saddened while it made you better.

CHAPTER XIX.

OUT UPON THE RIDGE.

I could not divine why it was, but for some reason Mrs. Dennison appeared ill at ease after her ride that morning. Mr. Lee was about the house all day; but she rather avoided him, and disappeared altogether from the square balcony, where he was in the habit of reading when the shadows crept round to that side of the house.

Late in the day I went out for a walk, and, mounting the hill back of the house, wandered along its upper ridge, where a thick growth of hemlocks and forest-trees shut out a glorious landscape on either hand; for this hill formed a spur of the mountains which partially separated two broad valleys. That on the east I have already described; but the other and broader s.p.a.ce of country could only be commanded from one or two prominent points on the ridge. A large rock, fringed with ferns and mountain pinks, marked one of these spots. A footpath led to it through the trees, and, as the rock crowned a precipitous declivity of several hundred feet, it ended there.

I sat down upon the rock weary from my long walk, and gazed dreamily upon the broad plain at my feet. It was in a state of beautiful cultivation: a large county-town lay under the shelter of the near mountains, over which a cloud of smoke floated from the numerous iron foundries in full blast in the environs. The breaks and gossamer floating of this cloud interested me, not the less because its source was in the useful development of the resources of a great commonwealth.

I loved to think that with every wreath of that graceful vapor came a.s.surance of bread for the working-man, and profits to the capitalist; for to me such thoughts give dignity to the beautiful. I am not one of those who would object to having the waters of Niagara lowered half an inch, if it would give the poor better and cheaper flour.

Well, as I was saying, the hives of industry which lay in the hazy distance made the landscape one of peculiar interest. The signs of rich cultivation upon the undulating grounds stretching to a range of the Blue Ridge, so far away that the mountain peaks seemed embankments of clouds, took a new aspect every time I saw them.

Like the busy city, every beautiful object conveyed an under-thought of prosperity; even the distant noise of some forges under the mountain sounded harmonious in connection with the broad scene.

As I sat looking upon this glorious picture, reflecting that my beloved country could boast of thousands on thousands equally rich, both in beauty and thrift, a footstep in the gra.s.s disturbed me, and, turning my head, I saw Mrs. Dennison walking slowly along the footpath.

The woman was in deep thought, and evidently did not observe me, for I was sitting on a slope of the rock, and a mossy fragment rose up between us. She held a letter in her hand, which seemed to give her anything but pleasure, for as she read, a cloud fell heavily on her forehead, and the beautiful brows contracted. She stopped in the middle of the footpath, and seemed to read the letter over a second time. During all this time she was so near to me, that I could distinguish the heavy sigh with which she folded the paper.

After this she stood a moment gazing upon the landscape at her feet. She seemed to feel the beauties this glorious point of view presented, and her face cleared up.

That moment I spoke to her. She gave a little start, hid the letter away somewhere in the folds of her dress, and sat down upon the rock. That woman, I do think, never took a position which did not at once settle into lines of grace. Just then the scarlet folds of her shawl fell in rich contrast with the green mosses of the rock and cool foliage of the trees, and I could not help observing that, even for my sake, she condescended to be artistic.

"Ah, Miss Hyde, I am glad to find you here; these woods were getting lonesome," she said, pleasantly.

"But it is not lonesome here," I replied; "this moment I was thinking what a cheerful idea of life the whole scene yonder presented."

"Yes," she answered, looking toward the distant city; "after all, civilization has its fine points, even in a picture. I do not wonder you love this spot, if it were only from its contrasts. A moment back, I was almost chilled by the lonely murmur of the pines, and the dull sweep of waters answering them; surely there is some river near, Miss Hyde."

"Yes, at the foot of this hill."

"Oh! true, I can see gleams of water through the gloom. How steep it is!"

"Yes, almost a precipice," I answered. "One would not like to attempt a descent."

"Indeed, I would rather like it. If one had a mania for suicide now, it would be a romance. A single false step, and you could hardly hear the plunge or a cry for help, if the actor were coward enough to give it.

The waters are very black and sullen down yonder."

I turned away from them with a shudder; this idea of death and crime which she had advanced chilled me. The waters did, indeed, look black as we saw them weltering on through the piny gloom far below us.

"Do you know," she said, smiling blandly upon me, "I found a pretty bird's-nest under a tuft of fern-leaves up yonder, with four lovely speckled eggs? My red shawl frightened the poor birds, and they made a terrible fluttering; so, in pity to the little creatures, I came away only half satisfied."

"Oh! you have found my nest!" I exclaimed, thanking her kindness from the depths of my heart. "My own little birds; they have built in that spot for three years; I dare say some of the birds hatched under those broken leaves are singing to us now. No one ever molests them here."

"Indeed I did them no harm; only took one little peep at the eggs and ran away; so, don't look so terrified; the birds did not seem half so much frightened."

I smiled and dropped the subject. The truth is, I really am silly about my birds, and always keep their hiding-places secret, if I can, even from Jessie, who does not understand their dainty habits as I do.

Mrs. Dennison busied herself looking about on the landscape.

"Tell me," she said, "whereabouts is that delightful old mill which we stopped at this morning? I do a.s.sure you, Miss Hyde, it is the most picturesque bit that I ever saw out of a picture; this river must be the stream on which it stands."

"Yes," I answered; "but the mill is not visible from here."

"We had a delightful five minutes examining it," she resumed, "that is, my good host, Mr. Lawrence, and myself. As for our sweet Jessie and her cavalier-lover, must I say--"

"Jessie Lee has no lovers," I answered, coldly, for there was something in the side-glance of her almond-shaped eyes that I did not like,--a sinister questioning that aroused all the original distrust that her simple manner had, for a time, laid to rest.

"Indeed! What, no lover? and she so beautiful, such a peculiar style! I thought young Bosworth was something more than a neighborly cavalier; a fine young fellow, Miss Hyde, and a catch, isn't he?"

"I don't know exactly what you mean by a catch, madam," I replied, more and more repulsed.

"Oh! I see; not worldly enough for boarding-school vulgarisms; but I, who am naughty enough to remember them now and then, will explain that there is nothing very terrible in a 'good catch.' It only means a handsome, fas.h.i.+onable, and rich man, whom every marriageable young lady is dying for and only one can get."

"Then our young neighbor will not answer to the character, for he is neither fas.h.i.+onable nor more than comfortably rich; nor has he any number of young ladies dying for him."

"Only one, perhaps?"

The same sidelong glance, the same crafty undercurrent in her questioning.

"If you mean Jessie, Mrs. Dennison, I am very sure she has no such feelings as you suspect, toward any one."

"Oh, I dare say not; one always likes to talk nonsense about such things, but it amounts to nothing. Of course, people are always expecting hosts of lovers when an heiress is in question, and Miss Lee has the reputation of immense expectations."

"Yes," I answered, artfully, "I am afraid Jessie will be very rich, indeed. Along that valley she will own land enough for a small princ.i.p.ality, if such things were recognized in this country, and many a smoke-wreath that you see curling up from the city yonder comes from the dwellings that will yet be hers, and so will several foundries that are coining money for her out of iron."