 | CHAPTER XXII.
A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME. The guardian angel |  |
22. CHAPTER XXII.
A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME.
MR. WILLIAM MURRAY BRADSHAW was in
pretty intimate relations with Miss Cynthia Badlam.
It was well understood between them that it might
be of very great advantage to both of them if he should in
due time become the accepted lover of Myrtle Hazard.
So long as he could be reasonably secure against interference,
he did not wish to hurry her in making her decision.
Two things he did wish to be sure of, if possible, before
asking her the great question; — first, that she would answer
it in the affirmative; and secondly, that certain contingencies,
the turning of which was not as yet absolutely
capable of being predicted, should happen as he expected.
Cynthia had the power of furthering his wishes in many direct
and indirect ways, and he felt sure of her co-operation.
She had some reason to fear his enmity if she displeased
him, and he had taken good care to make her understand
that her interests would be greatly promoted by the success
of the plan which he had formed, and which was con
fided to her alone.
He kept the most careful eye on every possible source
of disturbance to this quietly maturing plan. He had no
objection to have Gifted Hopkins about Myrtle as much
as she would endure to have him. The youthful bard entertained
her very innocently with his bursts of poetry,
but she was in no danger from a young person so intimately
associated with the yard-stick, the blunt scissors, and
whom he did not feel any very particular solicitude. Myrtle
had evidently found out that she was handsome and stylish
and all that, and it was not very likely she would take up
with such a bashful, humble, country youth as this. He
could expect nothing beyond a possible rectorate in the
remote distance, with one of those little pony chapels to
preach in, which, if it were set up on a stout pole, would
pass for a good-sized martin-house. Cyprian might do to
practise on, but there was no danger of her looking at him
in a serious way. As for that youth, Clement Lindsay,
if he had not taken himself off as he did, Murray Bradshaw
confessed to himself that he should have felt uneasy.
He was too good-looking, and too clever a young fellow to
have knocking about among fragile susceptibilities. But
on reflection he saw there could be no danger.
“All up with him, — poor diavolo! Can't understand
it — such a little sixpenny miss — pretty enogh boiled
parsnip blonde, if one likes that sort of thing — pleases
some of the old boys, apparently. Look out, Mr. L. —
remember Susanna and the Elders. Good!
“Safe enough if something new does n't turn up.
Youngish. Sixteen 's a little early. Seventeen will do.
Marry a girl while she 's in the gristle, and you can shape
her bones for her. Splendid creature — without her trimmings.
Wants training. Must learn to dance, and sing
something besides psalm-tunes.”
Mr. Bradshaw began humming the hymn, “When I
can read my title clear,” adding some variations of his own.
“That 's the solo for my prima donna!”
In the mean time Myrtle seemed to be showing some
new developments. One would have said that the instincts
coming uppermost in her nature. Her little nervous
attack passed away, and she gained strength and beauty
every day. She was becoming conscious of her gifts of
fascination, and seemed to please herself with the homage
of her rustic admirers. Why was it that no one of them
had the look and bearing of that young man she had seen
but a moment the other evening? To think that he should
have taken up with such a weakling as Susan Posey!
She sighed, and not so much thought as felt how kind it
would have been in Heaven to have made her such a man.
But the image of the delicate blonde stood between her
and all serious thought of Clement Lindsay. She saw the
wedding in the distance, and very foolishly thought to herself
that she could not and would not go to it.
But Clement Lindsay was gone, and she must content
herself with such worshippers as the village afforded.
Murray Bradshaw was surprised and confounded at the
easy way in which she received his compliments, and
played with his advances, after the fashion of the trained
ball-room belles, who know how to be almost caressing in
manner, and yet are really as far off from the deluded victim
of their suavities as the topmost statue of the Milan
cathedral from the peasant that kneels on its floor. He
admired her all the more for this, and yet he saw that she
would be a harder prize to win than he had once thought.
If he made up his mind that he would have her, he must
go armed with all implements, from the red hackle to the
harpoon.
The change which surprised Murray Bradshaw could
not fail to be noticed by all those about her. Miss Silence
had long ago come to pantomime, — rolling up of eyes,
but left her to her own way, as already the property
of that great firm of World & Co. which drives such
sharp bargains for young souls with the better angels.
Cynthia studied her for her own purposes, but had never
gained her confidence. The Irish servant saw that some
change had come over her, and thought of the great ladies
she had sometimes looked upon in the old country. They
all had a kind of superstitious feeling about Myrtle's bracelet,
of which she had told them the story, but which Kitty
half believed was put in the drawer by the fairies, who
brought her ribbons and partridge feathers, and other
simple adornments with which she contrived to set off her
simple costume, so as to produce those effects which an
eye for color and cunning fingers can bring out of almost
nothing.
Gifted Hopkins was now in a sad, vacillating condition,
between the two great attractions to which he was exposed.
Myrtle looked so immensely handsome one Sunday when
he saw her going to church, — not to meeting, for she
would not go, except when she knew Father Pemberton
was going to be the preacher, — that the young poet was
on the point of going down on his knees to her, and telling
her that his heart was hers and hers alone. But he suddenly
remembered that he had on his best pantaloons; and
the idea of carrying the marks of his devotion in the shape
of two dusty impressions on his most valued article of apparel
turned the scale against the demonstration. It happened
the next morning, that Susan Posey wore the most
becoming ribbon she had displayed for a long time, and
Gifted was so taken with her pretty looks that he might
very probably have made the same speech to her that he
but that he remembered her plighted affections, and thought
what he should have to say for himself when Clement
Lindsay, in a frenzy of rage and jealousy, stood before
him, probably armed with as many deadly instruments as
a lawyer mentions by name in an indictment for murder.
Cyprian Eveleth looked very differently on the new
manifestations Myrtle was making of her tastes and inclinations.
He had always felt dazzled, as well as attracted,
by her; but now there was something in her expression
and manner which made him feel still more strongly that
they were intended for different spheres of life. He could
not but own that she was born for a brilliant destiny, —
that no ball-room would throw a light from its chandeliers
too strong for her, — that no circle would be too brilliant
for her to illuminate by her presence. Love does not
thrive without hope, and Cyprian was beginning to see
that it was idle in him to think of folding these wide wings
of Myrtle's so that they would be shut up in any cage he
could ever offer her. He began to doubt whether, after
all, he might not find a meeker and humbler nature better
adapted to his own. And so it happened that one evening
after the three girls, Olive, Myrtle, and Bathsheba, had
been together at the Parsonage, and Cyprian, availing himself
of a brother's privilege, had joined them, he found he
had been talking most of the evening with the gentle girl
whose voice had grown so soft and sweet, during her long
ministry in the sick-chamber, that it seemed to him more
like music than speech. It would not be fair to say that
Myrtle was piqued to see that Cyprian was devoting himself
to Bathsheba. Her ambition was already reaching
beyond her little village circle, and she had an inward
simple-minded daughter which he could not ask from
a young woman of her own aspirations.
Such was the state of affairs when Master Byles Gridley
was one morning surprised by an early call from Myrtle.
He had a volume of Walton's Polyglot open before
him, and was reading Job in the original, when she
entered.
“Why, bless me, is that my young friend Miss Myrtle
Hazard?” he exclaimed. “I might call you Keren-Happuch,
which is Hebrew for Child of Beauty, and not be
very far out of the way, — Job's youngest daughter, my
dear. And what brings my young friend out in such good
season this morning? Nothing going wrong up at our
ancient mansion, The Poplars, I trust?”
“I want to talk with you, dear Master Gridley,” she
answered. She looked as if she did not know just how to
begin.
“Anything that interests you, Myrtle, interests me. I
think you have some project in that young head of yours,
my child. Let us have it, in all its dimensions, length,
breadth, and thickness. I think I can guess, Myrtle, that
we have a little plan of some kind or other. We don't
visit Papa Job quite so early as this without some special
cause, — do we, Miss Keren-Happuch?”
“I want to go to the city — to school,” Myrtle said,
with the directness which belonged to her nature.
“That is precisely what I want you to do myself, Miss
Myrtle Hazard. I don't like to lose you from the village,
but I think we must spare you for a while.”
“You 're the best and dearest man that ever lived.
What could have made you think of such a thing for me,
Mr. Gridley?”
“Because you are ignorant, my child, — partly. I want
to see you fitted to take a look at the world without feeling
like a little country miss. Has your Aunt Silence promised
to bear your expenses while you are in the city? It will
cost a good deal of money.”
“I have not said a word to her about it. I am sure I
don't know what she would say. But I have some money,
Mr. Gridley.”
She showed him a purse with gold, telling him how she
came by it. “There is some silver besides. Will it be
enough?”
“No, no, my child, we must not meddle with that. Your
aunt will let me put it in the bank for you, I think, where
it will be safe. But that shall not make any difference.
I have got a little money lying idle, which you may just as
well have the use of as not. You can pay it back perhaps
some time or other; if you did not, it would not make much
difference. I am pretty much alone in the world, and except
a book now and then — Aut liberos aut libros, as our
valiant heretic has it, — you ought to know a little Latin,
Myrtle, but never mind — I have not much occasion for
money. You shall go to the best school that any of our
cities can offer, Myrtle, and you shall stay there until we
agree that you are fitted to come back to us an ornament
to Oxbow Village, and to larger places than this if you are
called there. We have had some talk about it, your Aunt
Silence and I, and it is all settled. Your aunt does not
feel very rich just now, or perhaps she would do more for
you. She has many pious and poor friends, and it keeps
her funds low. Never mind, my child, we will have it all
arranged for you, and you shall begin the year 1860 in
Madam Delacoste's institution for young ladies. Too many
see some of all kinds, and there are very good instructors
in the school, — I know one, — he was a college boy with
me, — and you will find pleasant and good companions
there, so he tells me; only don't be in a hurry to choose
your friends, for the least desirable young persons are very
apt to cluster about a new-comer.”
Myrtle was bewildered with the suddenness of the prospect
thus held out to her. It is a wonder that she did not
bestow an embrace upon the worthy old master. Perhaps
she had too much tact. It is a pretty way enough of telling
one that he belongs to a past generation, but it does tell
him that not over-pleasing fact. Like the title of Emeritus
Professor, it is a tribute to be accepted, hardly to be
longed for.
When the curtain rises again, it will show Miss Hazard
in a new character, and surrounded by a new world.
| CHAPTER XXII.
A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME. The guardian angel | |