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From Jest to Earnest

<h1 id="id00711" style="margin-top: 6em">CHAPTER VIII.</h1> <h5 id="id00712">FINDING ONE'S LEVEL.</h5> Lottie met De Forrest on the stairs, and he was about to apologize for his long sleep, but she rushed by him like a summer gust. A moment later she burst into her room and startled indolent Bel out of her last luxurious doze by dropping into a chair by the fire and indulging in what girls call a "good cry." "What is the matter?" asked Bel, anxiously. Lottie's tears were the only answer. "What has happened?" cried Bel, rising hastily. "Let me call auntie or Julian." "If you call either you are no friend of mine," said Lottie, springing to the door, locking it, and taking the key. "Why, Lottie, I don't understand—" "There is no need that you should. Nothing is the matter—only I'm blue—I've been thinking of awful things. I was in one of my moods this afternoon, now I'm in one of my tenses." "Unusually intense, I should think. I have not seen you so moved since Tom Wellesly threatened to blow out his brains for you." "He hadn't any to blow out," snapped Lottie, "or he wouldn't have thought of doing it for such a girl as I am." "Well," sighed Bel, who at times was one of Job's comforters, "I've heard he has never been the same since." "I hope he has been wiser, then. How can men be such stupid owls as to fall in love with me! Can't they see I'm a wicked little heathen?" "That is just the kind men like," sneered Bel, misanthropically. "You expect to captivate (and of course you will) this sincere and saintly young minister. He already thinks that you are by far the best of our party, and has some of the first symptoms that your victims usually manifest." Lottie sprang up, dashed away her tears, and commenced restlessly pacing the room. "Bother on the men," she exclaimed. "Why will they be so silly! The world's a perfect jumble, and we are all lunatics and fools, crying for what is not good for us, and turning our backs upon what is. I'm disgusted with everybody, and myself in particular. Now if this overgrown student makes a fool of himself, like the others, I shall lose faith in mankind, and I know there is nothing to hope from woman-kind." "I should think you were having a mood and a tense at the same time this evening," said Bel, looking with some surprise at her friend. "What has stirred you up so? Have you and Julian had a quarrel?" "We shall have plenty more, I foresee," said Lottie, seizing on the suggestion to hide the truth. Bel smiled satirically. All these harsh words were but the harmless lightnings of a summer gust that was passing away. "It's only a lovers' tiff," she thought, "and now the billing and cooing are to come." "O, well," said Bel, soothingly, "you and Julian will soon make up, and then you and all the world will change for the better." "We have made up," said Lottie faintly, finding, like many another sinner in this line, that the first fib requires the second to cover it up. "Well, well; get over your mood quickly, for the supper-bell will ring in a moment, and you are not ready to come down." What emergency of life can obliterate from the mind of a pretty woman the necessity of a toilet? To Bel, Lottie seemed to come to her senses at once as she sped to her bureau and commenced brushing her rumpled hair. But the languid maiden was quite startled as Lottie wheeled suddenly upon her, declaring, while she brandished the hair-brush in the most tragic and impressive manner, "If that Hemstead makes a fool of himself he may, but he shall do it with his eyes open; I will not deceive him any more." Thus conscience, that had been skirmishing all day, appeared to gain one point of advantage, and Lottie, having made this virtuous resolve, gained in mental serenity, while the mirror that reflected her fair face helped to bring back her complacency. "Bel," said Lottie, as they were leaving their room, "not a whisper of all this to any one, as you value my friendship." But before they reached the supper-room her resolution failed, as is often the case when one acts from impulse rather than principle. She found that she could not so lightly throw away Hemstead's good opinion. She had been admired, loved, and flattered to her heart's content, but the respect, esteem, and trust of a sincere, true man formed a new offering, and it was so attractive that she could not bring herself to turn from it at once. Then her strong pride cast its weight into the scale, and she thought: "He talks to me and treats me as if I were a woman of heart and mind, and I'm going down to show him I'm a wicked fool. I shall not do it, at least not now. Little fear but that the disagreeable truth will come out soon enough." "But it is wrong to deceive him," whispered conscience. "Suppose it is," answered the wayward will, "I am all wrong myself and always have been." "You promised to show him your real self," still urged conscience. "Well, I will, some other time." With conscience thwarted and unsatisfied, serenity vanished again, and instead of being reckless and trivial at the table, as she intended, she was rather silent, and a trifle sullen, as one often is even when vexed with one's self. Hemstead was expecting a subdued and thoughtful young lady to appear, whose pensive manner would indicate a nature softened and receptive. While her bearing was not what he anticipated, it was somewhat akin, and showed, he thought, that the truth was not without effect. De Forrest was still more puzzled; but soon concluded that Lottie was provoked that he had slept so long instead of devoting himself to her. True, she had just come from the parlor, where he found Hemstead standing by the window, looking out into the gloom, but she had found him, no doubt, so heavy and stupid that she had rushed to her room in a fit of vexation. This theory was entirely reconcilable with his vanity, and therefore conclusive; and he tried to make amends by excessive gallantry, which only annoyed Lottie. This he ascribed to her resentment for his neglect, and only redoubled his unwelcome attentions. While Hemstead's heart was in a tumult of joy and thankfulness that so early in his acquaintance, and so unexpectedly, he had been able to speak to her as he wished and with such seeming effectiveness, he had the good taste and tact to indicate by no words or sign that anything unusual had occurred between them. He sought to draw the others, and even De Forrest, into general conversation, so that Lottie might be left more to herself. With a mingled smile and frown, she recognized his purpose, and with a reckless laugh in her own soul, thought; "He imagines I am near conversion, when I never felt so wicked before in my life." But catching a glimpse of Bel's surprised face, and seeing that her abstraction was noted by the others, she speedily rallied, and assumed the manner that she had maintained throughout the day. "It is so delightful to see his large gray eyes turn towards me wistfully and trustingly, that I cannot undeceive him yet"; and so conscience was dismissed, as history records has been often the case with some honest old counsellor in a foolish and reckless court. The prospective sleigh-ride and donation party were the prominent themes, and they hastened through the meal that they might start early. Upon this occasion De Forrest managed to get the seat by Lottie, in his eagerness to make amends, and Hemstead sat opposite with Bel. As far as he could gather in the uncertain moonlight, Hemstead thought that De Forrest's attentions were not particularly welcome, and, though he scarcely knew why, was glad. He would probably explain by saying that De Forrest was not worthy of her. Lottie's periods of depression never lasted long, and again the frosty air and quick motion set her blood tingling with life. In order to escape De Forrest's whispered sentimentalities, she began to sing. Her naturally good voice had been somewhat injured by straining at difficult music, under superficial instruction, instead of thorough training for it, but within a moderate compass, and in simple music, was sweet and strong. De Forrest was enthusiastic in his praise of selections that were beyond her abilities. Though most of the airs were unfamiliar to Hemstead, he was satisfied that they were incorrect, and certain that the music was not over good. Therefore he was silent. This piqued Lottie, for one of her purposes in the choice of what she sang was to impress him, from the barbarous West, with the idea of her superior culture. At last she said, "I fear you do not like operatic and classical music very much, Mr. Hemstead?" "We do not often hear such music very perfectly rendered in our part of the West. There are airs from the opera that are very pretty"; and he suggested one that was simple. The truth began to dawn on the quick-witted girl, but De Forrest said, patronizingly, "It requires a cultivated taste to appreciate such music as you were singing, Miss Lottie." "It is not with the music probably, but my rendering of it, that Mr. Hemstead finds fault." "Two of the airs were new to me, and the other I have heard but seldom," said Hemstead, evasively. "How about that one?" asked De Forrest. "Well, in sincerity then, I think Miss Marsden does herself injustice by attempting music that would tax the powers of a prima donna." "The boor!" whispered De Forrest to Lottie. After a moment she said firmly, "Mr. Hemstead has only said plainly what you thought, Julian." "O Miss Lottie—" he began to protest. "I'm not a fool," she continued, "so please don't waste your breath. You have heard all the star singers, and know how ridiculously far beneath them I fall, when I try to sing their music. I think you might have told me. It would have been truer kindness than your hollow applause. Why our teachers make us the laughing-stock of society, by keeping us upon these absurd attempts at music beyond us, to the exclusion of everything else, is something that I can't understand. My ear is not over nice, but I have always had a suspicion that I was executing, in the sense of murder, the difficult arias that the old weazen-faced Italian professor kept me at till brother Dan said, in truth, that I was turning into a screech-owl. But no one, save he and Mr. Hemstead, has been honest enough to tell me the truth. Thus, on many occasions, I have taxed the politeness of people to the utmost, no doubt, and been the cause of innumerable complimentary fibs, like those you have just been guilty of, Julian. Perhaps, Mr. Hemstead, you think a style of music like this more suited to my powers "; and she struck into a well-known plantation song. "No," said he, laughing, "I think you do yourself still greater injustice." "You probably think I cannot sing at all." "On the contrary, I think you have an unusually good voice. I wish you would sing that air that you were humming when you came into the parlor this afternoon. I liked that, and imagine it is suited to your voice." "What was it? O, I remember. An arr from Faust, that Marguerite sings at her spinning-wheel. I think I can give that pretty decently." She sang it sweetly, with taste and some power. Hemstead's appreciation was hearty, and she knew it was sincere. "Now that you have done me such good service," she said laughing, "and shown that mediocrity is my musical position, let us have some old-fashioned ballads, and all sing them together in sleigh-riding style." "Pardon me, Miss Marsden, I assign you to mediocrity in nothing." "O, no, not you; my own abilities place me there. But come, each one sing"; and she commenced a ballad, well known to the others, but not to him. It sounded very well indeed, only Harcourt's bass was much too light for the other voices. "Why don't you sing?" asked Lottie of Hemstead. "I do not know the air or words." "Shall we try Old Hundred?" asked De Forrest. "Ahem! The long metre doxology. "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." Addie and Harcourt joined in laughingly. Bel began with them, but stopped when she saw that Lottie did not sing. "Do you believe that 'all blessings flow' from God?" asked Hemstead of De Forrest. "I suppose so, according to Old Hundred," he said lightly. "You don't 'suppose so' at all, Julian. You know it, as we all do, however we may act," said Lottie, with emphasis. "With such a belief, I—would at least treat Him with respect," said Hemstead, quietly. "I should be sorry to be under deep and continued obligations to One toward whom I failed in ordinary courtesy." "I knew it was wrong," muttered Bel, "but—" "I have no such belief," said Harcourt, "so your sharp homily does not apply to me." "Where do your blessings come from?" asked Hemstead. "Well, those I don't get out of my clients, from where this snow does,—the laws and forces of nature." "Your faith is like the snow, I think,—very cold." "If it's cold in winter, it's warm in summer," retorted he, flippantly; and Addie giggled approvingly, for the reason that it sounded flippant and smart. They had now reached the hamlet of Scrub Oaks, in the centre of which was a small house that seemed bursting with light and noise. Whenever the door opened it appeared to fly open from a pressure within. De Forrest acted as escort to the ladies, while Hemstead accompanied Harcourt in his effort to find a sheltered place for the horses. This pleased the young lawyer, and he said, good-naturedly, "Don't think, Mr. Hemstead, that I do not respect your honest convictions, and I meant no slur upon them. You take things too seriously." "I suppose we all ought to make more allowance for what is said in mere sport and repartee," said Hemstead. "But what to you is law and force is to me a personal Friend. You know that there are some names—like those of mother and wife—that are too sacred for jest." "Thus people misjudge and misunderstand each other, simply because they see things from different points of view," replied Harcourt. "De Forrest provokes me, however. He has no doubts worthy of the name, for he reads nothing save the sporting news and fashionable literature of the day, and yet he likes to give the impression that he is in with us, who read books and think." "If you will only read fairly, Mr. Harcourt, I have no fears but that in time you will think rightly. An honest jury must hear both sides and have no prejudices." The young men now sought the rest of the party, who had squeezed their way into the little parsonage. It was so replete with life and bustle that it appeared like a social bombshell, with effervescing human nature as an explosive material, and might burst into fragments at any moment. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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