Books: Cousin Maude
M >>
Mary J. Holmes >> Cousin Maude
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14
"Pshaw!" returned J.C., pulling at the maple leaves which grew above
his head, "I hope you don't think I'd marry a rude country girl for
her money. No, give me la charmant Nellie, even though she cannot
mend her dress, and you are welcome to Cousin Maude, the milkman's
heiress."
At that moment Mrs. Kelsey and Nellie appeared upon the stoop, and
as Maude was no longer visible the young gentlemen returned to the
parlor, where J.C. asked Nellie to favor him with some music. Nellie
liked to play, for it showed her white hands to advantage, and
seating herself at the piano she said: "I have learned a new song
since I saw you, but Maude must sing the other part--maybe, though,
I can get along without her."
This last was said because she did not care to have Maude in the
parlor, and she had inadvertently spoken of her singing. The young
men, however, were not as willing to excuse her, and Maude was
accordingly sent for. She came readily, and performed her part
without the least embarrassment, although she more than once half
paused to listen to the rich, full tones of James' voice, for he was
an unusually fine singer; Maude had never heard anything like it
before, and when the song was ended the bright, sparkling eyes which
she turned upon him told of her delight quite as eloquently as words
could have done.
"You play, I am sure, Miss Remington," he said, as Nellie arose from
the stool.
Maude glanced at her red hands, which J.C. would be sure to notice,
then feeling ashamed to hesitate for a reason like this, she
answered, "Yes, sometimes," and taking her seat she played several
pieces, keeping admirable time, and giving to the music a grace and
finish which Nellie had often tried in vain to imitate.
"Mr. De Vere did not expect you to play all night," called out the
envious girl, who, not satisfied with having enticed J.C. from the
piano, wished James to join her also.
"She is merely playing at my request," said Mr. De Vere, "but if it
is distasteful to Miss Kennedy, we will of course desist," and
bending low he said a few words of commendation to Maude, whose
heart thrilled to the gentle tones of his voice, just as many
another maiden's had done before. Mr. De Vere was exceedingly
agreeable, and so Maude found him to be, for feeling intuitively
that she was somewhat slighted by the overbearing Nellie, he devoted
himself to her entirely, talking first of books, then of music, and
lastly of his home, which, without any apparent boasting, he
described as a most beautiful spot.
For a long time that night did Louis wait for his sister in his
little bed, and when at last she came to give him her accustomed
kiss he pushed the thick curls from off her face and said, "I never
saw you look so happy, Maude. Do you like that Mr. De Vere?"
"Which one?" asked Maude. "There are two, you know."
"Yes, I know," returned Louis, "but I mean the one with the voice.
Forgive me, Maude, but I sat ever so long at the head of the stairs,
listening as he talked. He is a good man, I am sure. Will you tell
me how he looks?"
Maude could not well describe him. She only knew that he was taller
than J.C., and, as she thought, much finer looking, with deep blue
eyes, dark brown hair, and a mouth just fitted to his voice. Farther
than this she could not tell. "But you will see him in the morning,"
she said. "I have told him how gifted, how good, you are, and to-
morrow, he says, he shall visit you in your den."
"Don't let the other one come," said Louis hastily, "for if he can't
endure red hands he'd laugh at my withered feet and the bunch upon
my back; but the other one won't, I know."
Maude knew so too, and somewhat impatiently she waited for the
morrow, when she could introduce her brother to her friend. The
morrow came, but, as was frequently the case, Louis was suffering
from a severe pain in his back, which kept him confined to his room,
so that Mr. De Vere neither saw him at all nor Maude as much as he
wished to do. He had been greatly interested in her, and when at
dinner he heard that she would not be down he was conscious of a
feeling of disappointment. She was not present at supper either, but
after it was over she joined him in the parlor, and, together with
J.C. and Nellie, accompanied him to the graveyard, where, seating
herself upon her mother's grave, she told him of that mother, and
the desolation which crept into her heart when first she knew she
was an orphan. From talking of her mother it was an easy matter to
speak of her Vernon home, which she had never seen since she left it
twelve years before, and then Mr. De Vere asked if she had met two
boys in the cars on her way to Albany. At first Maude could not
recall them, and when at last she did so her recollections were so
vague that Mr. De Vere felt another pang of disappointment, though
wherefore he could not tell, unless indeed, he thought there would
be something pleasant in being remembered twelve long years by a
girl like Maude Remington. He reminded her of her remark made to his
cousin, and in speaking of him casually alluded to his evident
liking for Nellie, saying playfully, "Who knows, Miss Remington, but
you may some time be related to me--not my cousin exactly, though
Cousin Maude sounds well. I like that name."
"I like it too," she said impulsively, "much better than Miss
Remington, which seems so stiff."
"Then let me call you so. I have no girl cousin in the world," and
leaning forward he put back from her forehead one of her short,
glossy curls, which had been displaced by the evening breeze.
This was a good deal for him to do. Never before had he touched a
maiden's tresses, and he had no idea that it would make his fingers
tingle as it did. Still, on the whole, he liked it, and half-wished
the wind would blow those curls over the upturned face again, but it
did not, and he was about to make some casual remark when J.C., who
was not far distant, called out, "Making love, I do believe!"
The speech was sudden, and grated harshly on James' ear. Not because
the idea of making love to Maude was utterly distasteful, but
because he fancied she might be annoyed, and over his features there
came a shadow, which Maude did not fail to observe.
"He does not wish to be teased about me," she thought, and around
the warm spot which the name of "Cousin Maude" had made within her
heart there crept a nameless chill--a fear that she had been
degraded in his eyes. "I must go back to Louis," she said at last,
and rising from her mother's grave she returned to the house,
accompanied by Mr. De Vere, who walked by her side in silence,
wondering if she really cared for J.C.'s untimely joke.
James De Vere did not understand the female heart, and wishing to
relieve Maude from all embarrassment in her future intercourse with
himself, he said to her as they reached the door: "My Cousin Maude
must not mind what J.C. said, for she knows it is not so."
"Certainly not," was Maude's answer, as she ran upstairs, hardly
knowing whether she wished it were or were not so.
One thing, however, she knew. She liked to have him call her Cousin
Maude; and when Louis asked what Mr. De Vere had said beneath the
willows she told him of her new name, and asked if he did not like
it.
"Yes," he answered, "but I'd rather you were his sister, for then
maybe he'd call me brother, even if I am a cripple. How I wish I
could see him, and perhaps I shall to-morrow."
But on the morrow Louis was so much worse that in attending to him
Maude found but little time to spend with Mr. De Vere, who was to
leave them that evening. When, however, the carriage which was to
take him away stood at the gate, she went down to bid him good-by,
and ask him to visit them again.
"I shall be happy to do so," he said; and then, as they were
standing alone together, he continued: "Though I have not seen as
much of you as I wished, I shall remember my visit at Laurel Hill
with pleasure. In Hampton there are not many ladies for whose
acquaintance I particularly care, and I have often wished that I had
some female friend with whom I could correspond, and thus while away
some of my leisure moments. Will my Cousin Maude answer me if I
should some time chance to write to her mere friendly, cousinly
letters, of course?"
This last he said because he mistook the deep flush on Maude's cheek
for an unwillingness to do anything which looked at all like "making
love."
"I will write," was all Maude had a chance to say ere Nellie joined
them, accompanied by J.C., who had not yet terminated his visit at
Laurel Hill, and as soon as his cousin left he intended removing to
the hotel, where he would be independent of Dr. Kennedy, and at the
same time, devote himself to the daughter or stepdaughter, just as
he should feel inclined.
Some such idea might have intruded itself upon the mind of James,
for, when at parting he took his cousin's hand, he said, "You have
my good wishes for your success with Nellie, but--"
"But not with t'other one, hey?" laughingly rejoined J.C., adding
that James need have no fears, for there was not the slightest
possibility of his addressing the milkman's heiress.
Alas for J.C.'s honesty! Even while he spoke there was treachery in
his saucy eyes, for the milkman's heiress, as he called her, was not
to him an object of dislike, and when, after the carriage drove
away, he saw the shadows on her face, and suspected their cause, he
felt a strong desire that his departure might affect her in a
similar manner. That evening, too, when Nellie sang to him his
favorite song, he kept one ear turned toward the chamber above,
where, in a low, sweet voice, Maude Remington sang her suffering
brother to sleep.
The next morning he removed to the hotel, saying he should probably
remain there during the summer, as the air of Laurel Hill was highly
conducive to his rather delicate health; but whether he meant the
invigorating breeze which blew front the surrounding hills, or an
heir of a more substantial kind, time and our story will show.
CHAPTER IX.
THE MILKMAN'S HEIRESS.
Mr. De Vere had been gone four weeks. Louis had entirely recovered
from his illness, and had made the acquaintance of J.C., with whom
he was on the best of terms. Almost every bright day did the young
man draw the little covered wagon through the village, and away to
some lovely spot, where the boy artist could indulge in his favorite
occupation--that of sketching the familiar objects around him. At
first Nellie accompanied them in these excursions; but when one day
her aunt, who still remained at Laurel Hill, pointed out to her a
patch of sunburn and a dozen freckles, the result of her outdoor
exercise, she declared her intention of remaining at home
thereafter--a resolution not altogether unpleasant to J.C., as by
this means Maude was more frequently his companion.
If our readers suppose that to a man of J.C.'s nature there was
anything particularly agreeable in thus devoting himself to a
cripple boy they are mistaken, for Louis Kennedy might have remained
indoors forever had it not been for the sunny smile and look of
gratitude which Maude Remington always gave to J.C. De Vere when he
came for or returned with her darling brother. Insensibly the
domestic virtues and quiet ways of the black-haired Maude were
winning a strong hold upon J.C.'s affections, and still he had never
seriously thought of making her his wife. He only, knew that he
liked her, that he felt very comfortable where she was, and very
uncomfortable where she was not; that the sound of her voice singing
in the choir was the only music he heard on the Sabbath day, and
though Nellie in her character of soprano ofttimes warbled like a
bird, filling the old church with melody, he did not heed it, so
intent was he in listening to the deeper, richer notes of her who
sang the alto, and whose fingers swept the organ keys with so much
grace and beauty.
And Maude! within her bosom was there no interest awakened for one
who thought so much of her? Yes, but it was an interest of a
different nature from his. She liked him, because he was so much
more polite to her than she had expected him to be, and more than
all, she liked him for his kindness to her brother, never dreaming
that for her sake alone those kindly acts were done. Of James De
Vere she often thought, repeating sometimes to herself the name of
Cousin Maude, which had sounded so sweetly to her ear when he had
spoken it. His promise she remembered, too, and as often as the mail
came in, bringing her no letter, she sighed involuntarily to think
she was forgotten. Not forgotten, Maude, no, not forgotten, and when
one afternoon, five weeks after James' departure J.C. stood at her
side, he had good reason for turning his eyes away from her truthful
glance, for he knew of a secret wrong done to her that day. There
had come to him that morning a letter from James, containing a note
for Maude, and the request that he would hand it to her.
"I should have written to her sooner," James wrote, "but mother's
illness and an unusual amount of business prevented me from doing
so. 'Better late than never,' is, however, a good motto at times,
and I intrust the letter to you, because I would save her from any
gossip which an open correspondence with me might create."
For James De Vere to write to a young girl was an unheard-of
circumstance, and the sight of that note aroused in J.C.'s bosom a
feeling of jealousy lest the prize he now knew he coveted should be
taken from him. No one but himself should write to Maude Remington,
for she was his, or rather she should be his. The contents of that
note might be of the most ordinary kind, but for some reason
undefinable to himself he would rather she should not see it yet,
and though it cost him a struggle to deal thus falsely with both, he
resolved to keep it from her until she had promised to be his wife.
He never dreamed it possible that she could tell him no, he had been
so flattered and admired by the city belles; and the only point
which troubled him was what his fashionable friends would say when
in place of the Nellie whose name had been so long associated with
his, he brought to them a Maude fresh from the rural districts, with
naught in her disposition save goodness, purity, and truth. They
would be surprised, he knew, but she was worth a thousand of them
all, and then with a glow of pride he thought how his tender love
and care would shield her from all unkind remarks, and how he would
make himself worthy of such a treasure.
This was the nobler, better part of J.C.'s nature, but anon a more
sordid feeling crept in, and he blushed to find himself wondering
how large her fortune really was! No one knew, save the lawyers and
the trustee to whose care it had been committed, and since he had
become interested in her he dared not question them lest they should
accuse him of mercenary motives. Was it as large as Nellie's? He
wished he knew, while at the same time he declared to himself that
it should make no difference. The heart which had withstood so many
charms was really interested at last, and though he knew both Mrs.
Kelsey and her niece would array themselves against him, he was
prepared to withstand the indignation of the one and the opposition
of the other.
So perfectly secure was Nellie in J.C.'s admiration for herself,
that she failed to see his growing preference for Maude, whom she
frequently ridiculed in his presence, just because she thought he
would laugh at it, and think her witty. But in this she was
mistaken, for her ridicule raised Maude higher in his estimation,
and he was glad when at last an opportunity occurred for him to
declare his intentions.
For a week or more Nellie and a few of the young people of the
village had been planning a picnic to the lake, and the day was
finally decided upon. Nellie did not ask J.C. if he were going; she
expected it as a matter of course, just as she expected that Maude
would stay at home to look after Louis and the house. But J.C. had
his own opinion of the matter, and when the morning came he found it
very convenient to be suffering from a severe headache which would
not permit him to leave his bed, much less to join the pleasure
party.
"Give my compliments to Miss Kennedy," he said to the young man who
came to his door, "and tell her I cannot possibly go this morning,
but will perhaps come down this afternoon."
"Mr. De Vere not going! I can't believe it!" and the angry tears
glittered in Nellie's blue eyes when she heard the message he had
sent her.
"Not going!" exclaimed Mrs. Kelsey, while even Maude sympathized in
the general sorrow, for her hands had prepared the repast, and she
had taken especial pains with the pies which Mr. De Vere liked the
best, and which, notwithstanding his dislike to kitchen odors, he
had seen her make, standing at her elbow and complimenting her
skill.
Nellie was in favor of deferring the ride, but others of the party,
who did not care so much for Mr. De Vere's society objected, and
poutingly tying on her hat, the young lady took her seat beside her
aunt, who was scarcely less chagrined than herself at their
disappointment.
Meanwhile, from behind his paper curtains J.C. looked after the
party as they rode away, feeling somewhat relieved when the blue
ribbons of Nellie's hat disappeared from view. For appearance's sake
he felt obliged to keep his room for an hour or more, but at the end
of that time he ventured to feel better, and dressing himself with
unusual care he started for Dr. Kennedy's, walking very slowly, as
became one suffering from a nervous headache, as he was supposed to
be. Maude had finished her domestic duties, and in tasteful gingham
morning-gown, with the whitest of linen collars upon her neck, she
sat reading alone at the foot of the garden beneath a tall cherry
tree where John had built her a rough seat of boards. This was her
favorite resort, and here J.C. found her, so intent upon her book as
not to observe his approach until he stood before her. She seemed
surprised to see him, and made anxious inquiries concerning his
headache, which he told her was much better. "And even if it were
not," said he, seating himself at her feet; "even if it were not,
the sight of you, looking so bright, so fresh, and so neat, would
dissipate it entirely," and his eyes, from which the saucy, wicked
look was for the moment gone, rested admiringly upon her face.
His manner was even more pointed than his words, and coloring
crimson, Maude replied, "You are disposed to be complimentary, Mr.
De Vere."
"I am disposed for once to tell the truth," he answered." All my
life long I have acted a part, saying and doing a thousand foolish
things I did not mean, just because I thought it would please the
senseless bubbles with whom I have been associated. But you, Maude
Remington, have brought me to my senses, and determined me to be a
man instead of a fool. Will you help me, Maude, in this resolution?"
and seizing both her hands he poured into her astonished ear his
declaration of love, speaking so rapidly and so vehemently as al
most to take her breath away, for she had never expected a scene
like this.
She had looked upon him as one who would undoubtedly be her sister's
husband, and the uniform kindness with which he had treated her, she
attributed to his exceeding good nature; but to be loved by him, by
J.C. De Vere, who had been sought after by the fairest ladies in the
land, she could not believe possible, and with mingled feelings of
pleasure, pain, and gratified vanity she burst into tears.
Very gently J.C. wiped her tears away, and sitting down beside her
he said, "The first time I ever saw you, Maude, you told me 'I did
not look as if I meant for certain,' and you were right, for all my
life has been a humbug; but I mean 'for certain' now. I love you,
Maude, love you for the very virtues which I have so often affected
to despise, and you must make me what J.C. De Vere ought to be. Will
you, Maude? Will you be my wife?"
To say Maude was not gratified that this man of fashion should
prefer her to all the world would be an untruth, but she could not
then say "Yes," for another, and a more melodious voice was still
ringing in her ear, and she saw in fancy a taller, nobler form than
that of him who was pressing her to answer.
"Not yet, Mr. De Vere," she said. "Not yet. I must have time to
think. It has come upon me so suddenly, so unexpectedly, for I have
always thought of you as Nellie's future husband, and my manners are
so different from what you profess to admire."
"'Twas only profession, Maude," he said, and then, still holding her
closely to him, he frankly and ingenuously gave her a truthful
history of his life up to the time of his first acquaintance with
Nellie, of whom he spoke kindly, saying she pleased him better than
most of his city friends, and as he began really to want a wife he
had followed her to Laurel Hill, fully intending to offer her the
heart which, ere he was aware of it, was given to another. "And now,
I cannot live without you," he said. "You must be mine. Won't you,
Maude? I will be a good husband. I will take lessons of Cousin
James, who is called a pattern man."
The mention of that name was unfortunate, and rising to her feet,
Maude replied: "I cannot answer you now, Mr. De Vere. I should say
No, if I did, I am sure, and I would rather think of it a while."
He knew by her voice that she was in earnest, and kissing her hand
he walked rapidly away, his love increasing in intensity with each
step he took. He had not expected anything like hesitancy. Everyone
else had met his advances at least halfway, and Maude's indecision
made him feel more ardent than he otherwise might have been.
"What if she should refuse me?" he said, as he paced up and down his
room, working himself up to such a pitch of feeling that when that
afternoon Nellie on the lake shore was waiting impatiently his
coming he on his pillow was really suffering all the pangs of a
racking headache, brought on by strong nervous excitement. "What if
she should say No?" he kept repeating to himself, and at last,
maddened by the thought, he arose, and dashing off a wild rambling
letter, was about sending it by a servant, when he received a note
from her, for an explanation of which we will go back an hour or so
in our story.
In a state of great perplexity Maude returned to the house, and
seeking out her brother, the only person to whom she could go for
counsel, she told him of the offer she had received, and asked him
what he thought. In most respect Louis was far older than his years,
and he entered at once into the feelings of his sister.
"J.C. De Vere proposed to you!" he exclaimed. "What will Nellie
say?"
"If I refuse, she never need to know of it," answered Maude, and
Louis continued: "They say he is a great catch, and wouldn't it be
nice to get him away from everybody else. But what of the other De
Vere? Don't you like him the best?"
Maude's heart beat rapidly, and the color on her cheek deepened to a
brighter hue as she replied, "What made you think of him?"
"I don't know," was Louis' answer, "only when he was here I fancied
you were pleased with him, and that he would suit you better than
J.C."
"But he don't like me," said Maude. "He don't like any woman well
enough to make her his wife," and she sighed deeply as she thought
of his broken promise and the letter looked for so long.
"Maude," said Louis suddenly, "men like J.C. De Vere sometimes marry
for money, and maybe he thinks your fortune larger than it is. Most
everybody does."
That Maude was more interested in J.C. De Vere than she supposed was
proved by the earnestness with which she defended him from all
mercenary motives.
"He knows Nellie's fortune is much larger than my own," she said;
"and by preferring me to her he shows that money is not his motive."
Still Louis' suggestion troubled her, and by way of testing the
matter she sat down at once and wrote him a note, telling him
frankly how much she had in her own name and how much in expectancy.
This note she sent to him by John, who, naturally quick-witted, read
a portion of the truth in her tell-tale face, and giving a loud
whistle in token of his approbation he exclaimed, "This nigger'll
never quit larfin' if you gets him after all Miss Nellie's nonsense,
and I hopes you will, for he's a heap better chap than I s'posed,
though I b'lieve I like t'other one the best!"
Poor Maude! That other one seemed destined to be continually thrust
upon her, but resolving to banish him from her mind as one who had
long since ceased to think of her, she waited impatiently, for a
reply to her letter.
Very hastily J.C. tore it open, hoping, believing, that it contained
the much desired answer. "I knew she could not hold out against me--
no one ever did," he said; but when he read the few brief lines, he
dashed it to the floor with an impatient "Pshaw!" feeling a good
deal disappointed that she had not said Yes and a very little
disappointed that the figures were not larger!
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14