An Original Belle

Chapter XII. "A Vow."

Bent, as was Strahan, upon his scheme of disturbing Merwyn's pride and indifference, he resolved to permit several days to pass before repeating his call. He also, as well as Marian, was unwilling to compromise himself beyond a certain point, and it was his hope that he might receive a speedy visit. He was not disappointed, for on the ensuing day Merwyn sauntered up the Strahan avenue, and, learning that the young officer had gone to camp, followed him thither. The cold glance from the fair stranger in the phaeton dwelt in his memory, and he was pleased to find that it formed sufficient incentive to action.

Strahan saw him coming with a grim smile, but greeted him with off-hand cordiality. "Sorry, Merwyn," he said, "I can give you only a few moments before I go on duty."

"You are not on duty evenings?"

"Yes, every other evening."

"How about to-night?"

"At your service."

"Are you acquainted with the people who reside at a cottage--" and he described Marian's abode.

"Yes."

"Who are they?"

"Mr. Vosburgh has rented the place as a summer residence for his family. His wife and daughter are there usually, and he comes when he can.

"And the daughter's name?"

"Miss Marian Vosburgh."

"Will you introduce me to her?"

"Certainly."

"I sha'n't be poaching on your grounds, shall I?"

"Miss Vosburgh honors me with her friendship,--nothing more."

"Is it so great an honor?"

"I esteem it as such."

"Who are they, anyway?"

"Well, as a family I regard them as my equals, and Miss Marian as my superior."

"Oh come, Strahan, gossip about them a little."

The officer burst out laughing. "Well," he said, "for a man of your phenomenal reticence you are asking a good many questions."

Merwyn colored slightly and blundered: "You know my motive, Strahan; one does not care to make acquaintances that are not quite--" and then the expression of his host's eyes checked him.

"I assure you the Vosburghs are 'quite,'" Strahan said, coldly. "Did I not say they were my equals? You may esteem yourself fortunate if Miss Vosburgh ever permits you to feel yourself to be her equal."

"Why, how so?" a little irritably.

"Because if a man has brains and discernment the more he sees of her the more will he be inclined to doubt his equality."

Merwyn smiled in a rather superior way, and, with a light laugh, said: "I understand, Strahan. A man in your plight ought to feel in that way; at least, it is natural that he should. Now see here, old fellow, I'll keep aloof if you say so."

"Why should you? You have seen few society queens abroad who received so much and so varied homage as Miss Vosburgh. There are half a dozen fellows there, more or less, every evening, and you can take your chances among them."

"Oh, she's a bit of a coquette, then?"

"You must discover for yourself what she is," said the young man, buckling on his sword. "She has my entire respect."

"You quite pique my curiosity. I'll drive in for you this evening."

At the hour appointed, Strahan, in civilian's dress, stepped into Merwyn's carriage and was driven rapidly to the cottage. Throwing the reins to a footman, the young fellow followed the officer with a confidence not altogether well founded, as he soon learned. Many guests were present, and Lane was among them. When Merwyn was presented Marian was observed to bow merely and not give her hand, as was her custom when a friend of hers introduced a friend. Some of the residents in the vicinity exchanged significant smiles when they saw that the fastidious and exclusive Willard Merwyn had joined their circle. Mrs. Vosburgh, who was helping to entertain the guests, recognized nothing in his presence beyond a new social triumph for her daughter, and was very gracious. To her offices, as hostess, he found himself chiefly relegated for a time.

This suited him exactly, since it gave him a chance for observation; and certainly the little drawing-room, with its refined freedom, was a revelation to him. Conversation, repartee, and jest were unrestrained. While Lane was as gay as any present, Merwyn was made to feel that he was no ordinary man, and it soon came out in the natural flow of talk that he, too, was in the service. Merwyn was introduced also to a captain of the regular army, and, whatever be might think of these people, he instinctively felt that they would no more permit themselves to be patronized than would the sons of noble houses abroad. Indeed, he was much too adroit to attempt anything of the kind, and, with well-bred ease, made himself at home among them in general conversation.

Meanwhile, he watched Marian with increasing curiosity. To him she was a new and very interesting type. He had seen no such vivacity and freedom abroad, and his experience led him to misunderstand her. "She is of the genus American girl, middle class," he thought, "who, by her beauty and the unconventionality of her drawing-room, has become a quasi-belle. None of these men would think of marrying her, unless it is little Strahan, and he wouldn't five years hence. Yet she is piquant and fascinating after her style, a word and a jest for each and all, and spoken with a sort of good-comradeship, rather than with an if-you-please-sir air. I must admit, however, that there is nothing loud in tone, word, or manner. She is as delicate and refined as her own beauty, and, although this rather florid mamma is present as chaperon, the scene and the actors are peculiarly American. Well, I owe Strahan a good turn. I can amuse myself with this girl without scruple."

At last he found an opportunity to say, "We have met once before, I believe, Miss Vosburgh."

"Met? Where?"

"Where I was inclined to go to sleep, and you gave me such a charming frown that I awakened immediately and took a long ramble."

"I saw a person stretched at lazy length under the trees yesterday. You know the horror ladies have of intoxicated men on the road-side."

"Was that the impression I made? Thanks."

"The impression made was that we had better pass as quickly as possible."

"You made a very different impression. Thanks to Strahan I am here this evening in consequence, and am delighted that I came."

"'Delighted' is a strong word, Mr. Merwyn. Now that we are speaking of impressions, mine is that years have elapsed since you were greatly delighted at anything."

"What gives you such an impression?"

"Women can never account for their intuitions."

"Women? Do not use such an elderly word in regard to one appearing as if just entering girlhood."

"O Mr. Merwyn! have you not learned abroad that girls of my age are elderly indeed compared with men of yours?"

He bit his lip. "English girls are not so--"

"Fast?"

"I didn't say that. They certainly have not the vivacity and fascination that I am discovering in your drawing-room."

"Why, Mr. Merwyn! one would think you had come to America on a voyage of discovery, and were surprised at the first thing you saw."

"I think I could show you things abroad that would interest you."

"All Europe could not tempt me to go abroad at this time. In your estimation I am not even a woman,--only a girl, and yet I have enough girlhood to wish to take my little part in the events of the day."

He colored, but asked, quietly, "What part are you taking?"

"Such questions," she replied, with a merry, half-mocking flash of her eyes, "I answer by deeds. There are those who know;" and then, being addressed by Mr. Lane, she turned away, leaving him with confused, but more decided sensations than he had known for a long time.

His first impulse was to leave the house, but this course would only subject him to ridicule on the part of those who remained. After a moment or two of reflection he remembered that she had not invited him, and that she had said nothing essentially rude. He had merely chosen to occupy a position in regard to his country that differed radically from hers, and she had done little more than define her position.

"She is a Northern, as mamma is a Southern fanatic, with the difference that she is a young, effervescing creature, bubbling over with the excitement of the times," he thought. "That fellow in uniform, and the society of men like Strahan and Lane, haye turned her head, and she has not seen enough of life to comprehend a man of the world. What do I care for her, or any here? Her briery talk should only amuse me. When she learns more about who I am and what I possess she will be inclined to imitate her discreet mamma and think of the main chance; meanwhile I escape a summer's dulness and ennui;" and so he philosophically continued his observations and chatted with Mrs. Vosburgh and others until, with Strahan, he took his departure, receiving from Marian a bow merely, while to Strahan she gave her hand cordially.

"You seem to be decidedly in Miss Vosburgh's good graces," said Merwyn, as they drove away.

"I told you she was my friend."

"Is it very difficult to become her friend?"

"Well, that depends. You should not find it difficult, since you are so greatly my superior."

"Oh, come, Strahan."

"Pardon me, I forgot I was to express only my own thoughts, not yours."

"You don't know my thoughts or circumstances. Come now, let us be good comrades. I will begin by thanking you cordially for introducing me to a charming young girl. I am sure I put on no airs this evening."

"They would not have been politic, Merwyn, and, for the life of me, I can see no reason for them."

"Very well. Therefore you didn't see any. How like old times we are! We were always together, yet always sparring a little."

"You must take us as we are in these times," said Strahan, with a light laugh, for he felt it would jeopardize his scheme, or hope rather, if he were too brusque with his companion. "You see it is hard for us to understand your cosmopolitan indifference. American feeling just now is rather tense on both sides of the line, and if you will recognize the fact you will understand us better."

"I think I am already aware of the fact. If Miss Vosburgh were of our sex you would soon have another recruit."

"I'd soon have a superior officer, you mean."

"I fancy you are rather under her thumb already."

"It's a difficult position to attain, I assure you."

"How so?"

"I have observed that, towards a good many, Miss Vosburgh is quite your equal in indifference."

"I like her all the better for that fact."

"So do I."

"How is it that you are so favored?"

"No doubt it seems strange to you. Mere caprice on her part, probably."

"You misunderstand me. I would like to learn your tactics."

"Jove! I'd like to teach you. Come down to-morrow and I'll give you a musket."

"You are incorrigible, Strahan. Do you mean that her good-will can be won only at the point of the bayonet?"

"No one coached me. Surely you have not so neglected your education abroad that you do not know how to win a lady's favor."

"You are a neutral, indeed."

"I wouldn't aid my own brother in a case of this kind."

"You are right; in matters of this kind it is every one for himself. You offered to show me, a stranger, some attention, you know."

"Yes, Merwyn, and I'll keep my word. I will give you just as good courtesy as I receive. The formalities have been complied with and you are acquainted with Miss Vosburgh. You have exactly the same vantage that I had at the start, and you certainly cannot wish for more. If you wish for further introductions, count on me."

Merwyn parted from his plain-spoken companion, well content. Strahan's promise to return all the courtesy he received left a variable standard in Merwyn's hands that he could employ according to circumstances or inclination. He was satisfied that his neighbor, in accordance with a trait very common to young men, cherished for Miss Vosburgh a chivalric and sentimental regard at which he would smile when he became older. Merwyn, however, had a certain sense of honor, and would not have attempted deliberately to supplant one to whom he felt that he owed loyalty. His mind having been relieved of all scruples of this character, he looked forward complacently to the prospect of winning--what? He did not trouble himself to define the kind of regard he hoped to inspire. The immediate purpose to kill time, that must intervene before he could return to England, was sufficient. There was promise of occupation, mild excitement, and an amusing triumph, in becoming the foremost figure in Marian's drawing-room.

There is scarcely need to dwell upon the events of a few subsequent weeks and the gradual changes that were taking place. Life with its small vicissitudes rarely results from deliberate action. Circumstances, from day to day, color and shape it; yet beneath the rippling, changing surface a great tide may be rising. Strahan was succeeding fairly well in his recruiting service, and, making allowances for his previous history, was proving an efficient officer. Marian was a loyal, steadfast friend, reprimanding with mirthful seriousness at times, and speaking earnest and encouraging words at others. After all, the mercurial young fellow daily won her increased respect and esteem. He had been promoted to a captaincy, and such was the response of the loyal North, during that dreary summer of disaster and confused counsels, that his company was nearly full, and he was daily expecting orders for departure. His drill ground had become the occasional morning resort of his friends, and each day gave evidence of improved soldierly bearing in his men.

Merwyn thus far had characteristically carried out his plans to "kill time." Thoroughly convinced of his comparative superiority, he had been good-naturedly tolerant of the slow recognition accorded to it by Marian. Yet he believed he was making progress, and the fact that her favor was hard to win was only the more incitement. If she had shown early and decided preference his occupation would have been gone; for what could he have done in those initiatory weeks of their acquaintance if her eyes and tones had said, "I am ready to take you and your wealth"? The attitude she maintained, although little understood, awakened a kind of respect, while the barriers she quietly interposed aroused a keener desire to surmount them. By hauteur and reserve at times he had made those with whom he associated feel that his position in regard to the civil conflict was his own affair. Even Marian avoided the subject when talking with him, and her mother never thought of mentioning it. Indeed, that thrifty lady would have been rather too encouraging had not her daughter taken pains to check such a spirit. At the same time the young girl made it emphatically understood that discussion of the events of the war should be just as free when he was present as when he was absent.

Yet in a certain sense he was making progress, in that he awakened anger on her part, rather than indifference. If she was a new type to him so was he to her, and she found her thoughts reverting to him in hostile analysis of his motives and character. She had received too much sincere homage and devotion not to detect something cynical and hollow in his earlier attentions. She had seen glances toward her mother, and had caught in his tones an estimate which, however true, incensed her greatly. Her old traits began to assert themselves, and gradually her will accorded with Strahan's hope. If, without compromising herself, she could humble this man, bringing him to her feet and dismissing him with a rather scornful refusal, such an exertion of power would give her much satisfaction. Yet her pride, as well as her principle, led her to determine that he should sue without having received any misleading favor on her part.

Merwyn had never proposed to sue at all, except in the way of conventional gallantry. For his own amusement he had resolved to become her most intimate and familiar friend, and then it would be time to go abroad. If false hopes were raised it would not much matter; Strahan or some one else would console her. He admitted that his progress was slow, and her reserve hard to combat. She would neither drive nor sail with him unless she formed one of a party. Still in this respect he was on the same footing with her best friends. One thing did trouble him, however; she had never given him her hand, either in greeting or in parting.

At last he brought about an explanation that disturbed his equanimity not a little. He had called in the morning, and she had chatted charmingly with him on impersonal matters, pleasing him by her intelligent and gracefully spoken ideas on the topics broached. As a society girl she met him on this neutral ground without the slightest restraint or embarrassment. As he also talked well she had no scruple in enjoying a pleasure unsought by herself, especially as it might lead to the punishment which she felt that he deserved. Smilingly she had assured herself, when he was announced, "If he's a rebel at heart, as I've been told, I've met the enemy before either Mr. Lane or Mr. Strahan."

When Merwyn rose to take his leave he held out his hand and said: "I shall be absent two or three days. In saying good-by won't you shake hands?"

She laughingly put her hands behind her back and said, "I can't."

"Will not, you mean?"

"No, I cannot. I've made a vow to give my hand only to my own friends and those of my country."

"Do you look upon me as an enemy?"

"Oh, no, indeed."

"Then not as a friend?"

"Why, certainly not, Mr. Merwyn. You know that you are not my friend. What does the word mean?"

"Well," said he, flushing, "what does it mean?"

"Nothing more to me than to any other sincere person. One uses downright sincerity with a friend, and would rather harm himself than that friend."

"Why is not this my attitude towards you?"

"You, naturally, should know better than I."

"Indeed, Miss Vosburgh, you little know the admiration you have excited," he said, gallantly.

An inscrutable smile was her only response.

"That, however, has become like the air you breathe, no doubt."

"Not at all. I prize admiration. What woman does not? But there are as many kinds of admiration as there are donors."

"Am I to infer that mine is of a valueless nature?"

"Ask yourself, Mr. Merwyn, just what it is worth."

"It is greater than I have ever bestowed upon any one else," he said, hastily; for this tilt was disturbing his self-possession.

Again she smiled, and her thought was, "Except yourself."

He, thinking her smile incredulous, resumed: "You doubt this?"

"I cannot help thinking that you are mistaken."

"How can I assure you that I am not?"

"I do not know. Why is it essential that I should be so assured?"

He felt that he was being worsted, and feared that she had detected the absence of unselfish good-will and honest purpose toward her. He was angry with himself and her because of the dilemma in which he was placed. Yet what could he say to the serene, smiling girl before him, whose unflinching blue eyes looked into his with a keenness of insight that troubled him? His one thought now was to achieve a retreat in which he could maintain the semblance of dignity and good breeding.

With a light and deferential laugh he said: "I am taught, unmistakably, Miss Vosburgh, that my regard, whatever it may be, is of little consequence to you, and that it would be folly for me to try to prove a thing that would not interest you if demonstrated. I feel, however, that one question is due to us both,--Is my society a disagreeable intrusion?"

"If it had been, Mr. Merwyn, you would have been aware of the fact before this. I have enjoyed your conversation this morning."

"I hope, then, that in the future I can make a more favorable impression, and that in time you will give me your hand."

Her blue eyes never left his face as he spoke, and they grew dark with a meaning that perplexed and troubled him. She merely bowed gravely and turned away.

Never had his complacency been so disturbed. He walked homeward with steps that grew more and more rapid, keeping pace with his swift, perturbed thoughts. As he approached his residence he yielded to an impulse; leaped a wall, and struck out for the mountains.