University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

`What a confoundedly stupid thing it is that people can't
do as they choose!' said Thornton, throwing down the
paper one morning.

`Do you think so?' said his sister. `Now I think that
much of the confusion of the world is because people will
do as they choose.'

`What else should they do?'

`That depends— Choice is a poor reason if there be
no reason in the choice.'

`Now here,' continued Thornton without heeding her,
`here has this precious court martial dismissed Capt. Lewis
from the army, just because he chose to play cards.'

`Chose to gamble—' said Rosalie.

`Call it what you like—' said Thornton,—`I can't for
the life of me see whose concern it was but his own. Why
shouldn't he gamble—if it amuses him?'

`Why shouldn't he cut throats if it amuses him?'

`He may for what I care.'

`What are the reasons given for his dismissal?' said
Rosalie,—`what is the verdict?'

`Here it is, in full.'

`Pretty specimen of impertinent and unjust interference,
isn't it?' said Thornton when he had finished.

`I know too little of military law to say whether it be
unjust or no; but I should sooner call it humanity than impertinence—if
it makes Capt. Lewis ashamed of what does
not become the gentleman and ruins the man.'

`What nonsense you do talk!' said Thornton angrily,
—`just because you know nothing about the matter—or
think nothing.'

`Just because I know and think. O Thornton, you
should not defend gambling!—it has lost us too much.'

`Lost! how do you know that I ever lost anything?'

`I know of one most precious thing,—I need not seek
further.'

`It will be time enough to remind me of that when I
have forgotten it,' said the young man with an uneasy change
of posture.

She left her seat, and kneeling down by him leant her
head on his shoulder.

`Is it possible that you can remember and disregard it?
What would I not do—what would I not bear, to save you
from these false friends—these degrading and ruining pursuits!
To see you take the part of a man and a christian
in the world. To see you live for something more than the
day's laugh and the night's amusement. O Thornton, is it
worthy of you? while this command stands unerased, “I
am the Almighty God. Walk before me and be thou
perfect.'”

He was looking down, somewhat sullenly; and neither
by word nor look did he answer her words, nor the hand that
drew back the hair from his forehead as caressingly as if he
had been a child, nor the earnest eyes that he knew were
studying his face. In his secret mind, Thornton felt very
much as if he were Captain Lewis just hearing Major
Bankhead dismiss him the service,—but if Rosalie's power
was strong so also was his resistance.

`And you think,' he said, `that people's hearts are
always open to the view of their fellow creatures,—that
secret good and evil do not exist.'

`I think anything else,' said his sister. `But I must
believe the words of Christ, and he says, “Whosoever shall
deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father
which is in heaven.'”

How tenderly it was spoken! and yet how gravely too.
Thornton thought he had got about enough. His next effort
was in a different way.

`There is no doubt of your filling your place as a
woman,' he said lightly. `I will give my testimony to that
effect whenever it is called for. But for the present, as you
do not belong to my regiment suppose you let me repair to
those that do. As to taking you for my commanding officer,
I'll think about it,—it's not always safe to invest guardians
with extraordinary powers. So let me go—here am I
bound not neck and heels exactly, but neck and hand. You
can rule enough of the lords of creation if you will only
take the right way for it.'

She had not tried to interrupt his words, the drift of
which she knew full well; and at last to get rid of the
uneasy consciousness that her eye was upon him, Thornton
turned suddenly and met it. The spark flew,—and the
shock awoke all the old memories of his mother whose look
he seemed to see again in those sweet eyes,—memories
which were or tried to be ofttimes asleep. Putting his arm
round Rosalie he drew her head down to his shoulder
again.

`What has got into you to-day, pretty one?' he said.
`Cannot you be content to rule men in woman's own way,
and leave them free in other respects?'

`You are not free—that is the very thing.'

`I won't fight you for that, seeing you are my sister,'
said Thornton, `but I must really demand an explanation.'

“`Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin,'” —
said his sister sadly.

`You are cool in your remarks, at least,' said Thornton
reddening. `At the next one of that sort I shall take my
departure. And I really had something to say to you.'

`What?' she said, looking up at him with a most disarming
face as he now stood before her.

`Are you willing, Lady Paramount, that I should bring
some of my friends here some evening?'

`I do not understand you Thornton—you have them
whenever you please.'

`Of course! But I mean can I have you as well? will
my canary bird please to be visible? Well?—what are you
meditating? what sword thrust am I to have now?'

`Dear Thornton—I wish you would not talk so. I will
see anybody you wish me to, of course—if—'

`Ay—there's a world-wide difference between your `of
course' and your `if,' said her brother dryly.

`You know there is nothing in the world I would not do
for you unless I thought it wrong. I will see anybody you
choose to bring here, and entertain them to the best of my
power,—if the entertainment may be without cards or
wine.'

Displeased as he was Thornton held his words in check.
Hers had been spoken in so low a tone, at once so timid and
so resolute, that it shamed him into gentleness. At last he
spoke, but in a constrained voice.

`Why not say `no' at once? it would be rather more
frank, and save both time and trouble.'

`It would not have been what I meant. Is it quite impossible
for gentlemen to spend a pleasant evening without
those two things?'

`Quite impossible for me to offer it.'

`But why? One has surely a right to one's own opinions,
and to the free expression of them.'

The word `free' struck him disagreeably, and he was
silent. Rosalie went on.

`I will do anything that I can to give you or your guests
pleasure, Thornton,—I will lay myself out for their entertainment;
but I will not countenance that which I disapprove.'

`You are not responsible for what I choose to give my
guests—' said her brother.

She quietly repeated, `I will not countenance it.'

`Why not?' said Thornton looking at her curiously
`What voice has a canary bird in the matter? Can it make
itself heard all alone?'

`It shall not go to swell the cry for evil.'

`My poor little canary bird!' said Thornton, but there
was a touch of tenderness in the words that thrilled through
her. `My poor little canary bird,—I am afraid the cry will
never join your sweet voice. And after all why should you
care? You don't suppose I would permit anybody to drink
too much in your presence?'

She smiled slightly and shook her head, but the eyes
went down as gravely as before.

`Why not?' said Thornton, going back to the point.
`What concern is it of yours?'

The little smile came again, but the eyes were full that
she raised to his face as she said,

`I know how I should feel if I were the sister of one of
them at home.'

`You are a strange girl!' said Thornton. `What are
other people's brothers to you? I should think you might
find your own enough to manage.'

`No, I would rather he should manage himself,' said his
sister smiling.

`Which is a polite way of saying that he don't.'

`If you will go with me this afternoon, Thornton, I will
shew you one good reason for what you call my whim.'

`My dear it might not be satisfactory to me,—or it
might be too satisfactory—worse still. I will attend you
where you like in the open air; but I don't wish to see any
examples but yours, nor any cases of charity but myself—
who am in desperate want of amusement just now. You
may have my purse and welcome, though I suspect your
own is the better filled; but as to the rest I should only
discomfort myself without comforting anybody else. So
goodbye, little guardian,—since you give me leave to go out
by myself I will go.'

He went forth on his pleasure seeking, and Rosalie
muffled herself up and set out on her expedition alone. It
was a keen, wintry day,—the sky cold grey, the snow cold
white; the wind sharpened upon snow crystals. The city
vanes, like the Moorish astrologer's little horseman, pointed
steadily to Baffin's Bay as the quarter whence the enemy
might be expected; and a dismal appreciation of the fact
seemed to have settled down upon the whole outer world.
People looked blue and white and red and spotted,—men
pocketed their hands and went along at an easy run; the
unkempt portion of society hugged themselves in their rags
and sought sheltered corners; and the few ladies who were
abroad flitted along, the very sport of the wind. Rosalie
would have been glad of her brother's arm, but it was not
there and she passed on alone.

In one of the poor streets of the city lay the object of her
walk,—a house as poor as the street, with tenants yet
poorer. The house had two stories, the upper one reached
by an out-of-doors staircase; at the head of which a door in
two parts opened into the front room of that floor. Old
furniture of various families and complexions, but neatly

dusted and arranged, graced its walls; the bit of rag carpet
was free from lint and wrinkles, and the cover of the little
table without a spot on its white. A door stood half open
into an adjoining room, where the darkened light and the
low moans that now and then were heard, told their own
story. An Irish woman opened the divided door in answer
to Miss Clyde's knock, and softly closed it behind her.

`It's very kind of you to come, ma'am,' she said, `and
indeed it was too bold of us to ask—only they said Miss
Clyde never refused any one. And indeed we didn't well
know what to do.'

Another woman now entered from the back room, and
courtesied to Rosalie but seemed as if she could not speak.

`Is he any better?' said the young lady softly.

`No Miss! not a bit! just the same! Out of his head
always, and crying and moaning as you hear. Never a better
son than himself!' she said, covering her face with her
apron, `till he took to drink.'

`But how did this happen?' said Rosalie as she sat down
in the chair placed for her. `I did not quite understand
what was the matter.'

`Ye see Miss, he drives—that is, not now, poor soul,
but he used,—he has a coach, and never a steadier nor a
better man when himself. And a week ago come Thursday
there was a party, they say, and he went—not to the party,
at all at all, but with some that was going. And it's bitter
could it was—and ye know yerself, ma'am, the could is a
hard thing to bear, to them not dressed for it. Not but his
coat was good, but it wouldn't stand that. And when he
went for the gentleman it's like he took something warm
just to help the coat as it were, and because of the waiting;
but he never got to the place at all. The horses went on
and throwed him off, and next morning they found him lying

in the snow half dead and buried, and he the only hope of
his mother! And he hasn't lift his head since they brought
him home.'

The mother walked back into the other room to conceal
or give way to her grief, for her sobs came mingled with the
groans of the sick man.

`Has he been in the habit of drinking?' Rosalie inquired
of the other woman.

`No Miss—he usen't—but he's took to it more in the
could weather. And it's no good talking: for `See mother,'
he says, `sure the gentlemen I drive don't know so much as
meself on the box sometimes, and sure they can tell what's
right,—why shouldn't Mike take a drop of comfort as well
as the quality?' he says. `Is drink worse out o'doors in the
could nor it is in by the fire?' But he'll niver say that
again, maybe!'

There was nothing to be done except in the way of money
or sympathy. What words of comfort she could Rosalie
spoke, and after promising to send a good physician she
asked further concerning their wants. But these seemed at
present to be few.

`The neighbors is very kind,' said the mother, who had
returned to the front room. `The tinman's wife below sent
a fresh egg from her own hens, and the little china woman
at the corner she just stewed oysters for him twice. But
bless ye! it's himself couldn't touch neither of 'em! And
what good 'll anything do him more! Yes Miss—I know
the Lord is good—`a strong hold in the day o' trouble'—I
learnt that long ago. But it's hard to trust—sometimes.—
If it wasn't all I had in the world! And to die so too—
without a thought on his mind at the last!'

Rosalie left the poor little abode, and remembered neither
wind nor cold till a long walk through both had brought
her to a very different establishment.

`Is Dr. Buffem at home?' she said to the servant who
opened the door.

He was, by chance; and came bustling into the parlour
in a great fit of amazement.

`Who gave you leave to come here in business hours?'
he said. `What's the matter? That chicken of yours can't
be sick, or you'd never be here.'

Rosalie briefly preferred her request.

`You see sir,' she added, `my trust among physicians
is even less extensive than my acquaintance,—so I was
forced to come to you.'

The doctor took snuff and shook his head.

`I'll tell you what I think,' he said—`I think you want
a strait jacket. What business is it of yours if coachmen
get run over every night?'

`It is every one's business to see that they do not die
therefrom without help,' said Rosalie smiling.

`No it isn't—' said the doctor. `Not yours.—Nonsense!'

`I am putting the business into your hands now, sir.'

`But if I go,' said the doctor, `you know I should despatch
him, the first thing. Immense saving of trouble!'

`I will trust you sir, with many thanks.'

`I haven't promised to go yet,' said Dr. Buffem. `I've
got two ladies and three gentlemen to attend to. Real
ladies—who don't know that hackney coachmen have souls,
—and gentlemen who don't know much about their own.
Think of that!'

`I don't like to think of it sir—nor of them. And now
I will not break up business hours any further. Dr. Buffem—'

`Yours to command!' said the doctor bowing.

But the cheek flushed a little and she stood hesitating.

`Out with it!' said the doctor. `I know you are going
to say something very impertinent.'

`These people are very poor,' she said, colouring more
and more, `and—'

`Hackney coachmen that drink always are,' said the
doctor sententiously.

`And—if—Will you please send your bill to me, sir?'

`That you may break the amount to them by degrees?'
said the doctor, looking at her across the finger and thumb
which held a prepared pinch of snuff.

`Yes, if you choose to think so,' she said laughing.
`Only send it to me.'

`I'll be—no matter what—if I do!' said Dr. Buffem.
`Take yourself off, Miss Rosalie, and don't come here fooling
old doctors. Here have you and your hackney coachman
cost me more snuff than you'll ever bring me in. I've a
great mind to make you pay interest in advance.'

But Rosalie negatived that and moved towards the door.

`It always puts me out of patience to be cheated!' said
the doctor following her. `See here—what's become of
that boy who used to be always tied to your apron string?
Have you seen him since he came home?'

`Only once sir.'

`So ho!—`only once.' How did you know what boy I
meant?—recognise the description, don't you? I'll send you
some fever powders when you get home. Ah I thought
I'd have my revenge. Talk to me of hackney coachmen,
indeed! It'll be a large bill!—tremendous!'

The hour was late and dinner waiting when Rosalie
reached home. Hulda was waiting too.

`O Alie why didn't you come before? Here has been
that nice gentleman again. And there are two notes in the
parlour.'

`Well let me take off my bonnet and then I will see to
the notes.'

They were two, as Hulda had said. One to herself, the
other to Thornton. The style and address of the one were
peculiar, and Rosalie thought she remembered having seen
it before,—thought she recollected that a similar invitation
(as this looked to be) had kept her brother out much later
than usual one night, and had been followed by days of peculiar
distaste for home and her society. She would have
given anything to put the note in that bright blaze before
her, ere Thornton came in. For a moment the temptation
was so strong that she thought she would do it,—thought
she would risk anything to keep him even for once out of
bad company. But she remembered that underhand dealings
became not her, and could not benefit him in the long
run,—she must let things have their way, and patiently
wait and hope. With a half sigh she heard her brother
come in and felt the note taken from her hand.

`What are you doing with my despatches?' he said.

`Holding them safe—and wanting very much to put
them in the fire.'

`I should like to see you do that,' said Thornton as he
refolded the note and put it in his pocket. `What is the
other?'

`Not much—a request from Mrs. Raynor that I will
spend to-morrow with her.'

`And you will?'

`No.'

`Why not?'

`I do not wish to go.'

`I wonder if your foot ever trembles on the narrow bridge
of truth?' said her brother, raising her face and surveying
it intently.

`Not in this case. But don't you wish to go to dinner?'

`Well I certainly might be hungry,' said Thornton as

he followed her, `for I have been parading and walking in
the most exemplary and orthodox manner—quite à-la-bon
fils. Where have you been?'

`Where I wish you had.'

`O—I remember, and cannot echo the wish. And you
have been working yourself up to some untenable point of
perfection, I suppose—à-la-vraie femme.'

`Only untenable to the people who never occupy it.'

`By the way,' said Thornton, `just for the fun of the
thing, I think I will have a party upon the proposed plan.
Only I shall not fail to proclaim to the company whose `hospitable
thought `contrived it all.'

`I had company this morning,' said Hulda, who thought
she had been long enough unnoticed.

`Indeed!' said her brother. `Was it a wasp or a yellow-jacket?'

`He didn't wear a yellow jacket at all,' said Hulda,—
`it was a black one.'

Thornton burst out laughing.

`If I am to have two sisters to look after,' he said, `I
may as well build a castle at once. I really did not know
you were grown up, Hulda.'

Not understanding Greek, Hulda was not in the least
discomposed.

`You see Alie, I ran on before Martha to open the door,
for I thought maybe it was you; and it was Mr. Raynor.'

`Mr. Raynor!' said Thornton, every particle of the
laugh vanishing. `What the deuce brought him here?'

`I don't think the deuce brought him here at all,' said
Hulda, in a very dignified manner. `I'm sure he was very
pleasant, and a great deal more good natured than'—

`Hush, Hulda!' said her sister.

A silent play of knives and forks followed.

`And what had Mr. Raynor to say for himself?' inquired
Thornton, when he had swallowed the first effervescence
produced by this information.

`O not much,' said Hulda. `Nothing at all for himself.
He only kissed me and asked for Rosalie.'

Thornton carried his fork to his mouth with more expression
than is usually bestowed upon salad, but verbal
remark he made none.