Behind a Mask; or, a Woman's Power. Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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he could slowly rise, Miss Muir glided to them with another cup on the salver; and, as Lucia took it with a cold nod, the girl said under her breath, “I think it honest to tell you that I possess a quick ear, and cannot help hearing what is said anywhere in the room. What you say of me is of no consequence, but you may speak of things which you prefer I should not hear; therefore, allow me to warn you.” And she was gone again as noiselessly as she came.
“How do you like that?” whispered Coventry, as his cousin sat looking after the girl, with a disturbed expression.
“What an uncomfortable creature to have in the house! I am very sorry I urged her coming, for your mother has taken a fancy to her, and it will be hard to get rid of her,” said Lucia, half angry, half amused.
“Hush, she hears every word you say. I know it by the expression of her face, for Ned is talking about horses, and she looks as haughty as ever you did, and that is saying much. Faith, this is getting interesting.”
“Hark, she is speaking; I want to hear,” and Lucia laid her hand on her cousin’s lips. He kissed it, and then idly amused himself with turning the rings to and fro on the slender fingers.
“I have been in France several years, madam, but my friend died and I came back to be with Lady Sydney, till—” Muir paused an instant, then added, slowly, “till I fell ill. It was a contagious fever, so I went of my own accord to the hospital, not wishing to endanger her.”
“Very right, but are you sure there is no danger of infection now?” asked Mrs. Coventry anxiously.
“None, I assure you. I have been well for some time, but did not leave because I preferred to stay there, than to return to Lady Sydney.”
“No quarrel, I hope? No trouble of any kind?”
“No quarrel, but—well, why not? You have a right to know, and I will not make a foolish mystery out of a very simple thing. As your family, only, is present, I may tell the truth. I did not go back on the young gentleman’s account. Please ask no more.”
“Ah, I see. Quite prudent and proper, Miss Muir. I shall never allude to it again. Thank you for your frankness. Bella, you will be careful not to mention this to young friends; girls gossip sadly, and it would annoy Lady Sydney beyond everything to have this talked of.”
“Very neighborly of Lady S. to send the dangerous young lady here, where there are two young gentlemen to be captivated. I wonder why she didn’t keep Sydney after she had caught him,” murmured Coventry to his cousin.
“Because she had the utmost contempt for a titled fool.” Miss Muir dropped the words almost into his ear, as she bent to take her shawl from the sofa corner.
“How the deuce did she get there?” ejaculated Coventry, looking as if he had received another sensation. “She has spirit, though, and upon my word I pity Sydney, if he did try to dazzle her, for he must have got a splendid dismissal.”
“Come and play billiards. You promised, and I hold you to your word,” said Lucia, rising with decision, for Gerald was showing too much interest in another to suit Miss Beaufort.
“I am, as ever, your most devoted. My mother is a charming woman, but I find our evening parties slightly dull, when only my own family are present. Good night, Mamma.” He shook hands with his mother, whose pride and idol he was, and, with a comprehensive nod to the others, strolled after his cousin.
“Now they are gone we can be quite cozy, and talk over things, for I don’t mind Ned any more than I do his dogs,” said Bella, settling herself on her mother’s footstool.
“I merely wish to say, Miss Muir, that my daughter has never had a governess and is sadly backward for a girl of sixteen. I want you to pass the mornings with her, and get her on as rapidly as possible. In the afternoon you will walk or drive with her, and in the evening sit with us here, if you like, or amuse yourself as you please. While in the country we are very quiet, for I cannot bear much company, and when my sons want gaiety, they go away for it. Miss Beaufort oversees the servants, and takes my place as far as possible. I am very delicate and keep my room till evening, except for an airing at noon. We will try each other for a month, and I hope we shall get on quite comfortably together.”
“I shall do my best, madam.”
One would not have believed that the meek, spiritless voice which uttered these words was the same that had startled Coventry a few minutes before, nor that the pale, patient face could ever have kindled with such sudden fire as that which looked over Miss Muir’s shoulder when she answered her young host’s speech.
Edward thought within himself, Poor little woman! She has had a hard life. We will try and make it easier while she is here; and began his charitable work by suggesting that she might be tired. She acknowledged she was, and Bella led her away to a bright, cozy room, where with a pretty little speech and a good-night kiss she left her.
When alone Miss Muir’s conduct was decidedly peculiar. Her first act was to clench her hands and mutter between her teeth, with passionate force, “I’ll not fail again if there is power in a woman’s wit and will!” She stood a moment motionless, with an expression of almost fierce disdain on her face, then shook her clenched hand as if menacing some unseen enemy. Next she laughed, and shrugged her shoulders with a true French shrug, saying low to herself, “Yes, the last scene shall be better than the first. Mon dieu, how tired and hungry I am!”
Kneeling before the one small trunk which held her worldly possessions, she opened it, drew out a flask, and mixed a glass of some ardent cordial, which she seemed to enjoy extremely as she sat on the carpet, musing, while her quick eyes examined every corner of the room.
“Not bad! It will be a good field for me to work in, and the harder the task the better I shall like it. Merci, old friend. You put heart and courage into me when nothing else will. Come, the curtain is down, so I may be myself for a few hours, if actresses ever are themselves.”
Still sitting on the floor she unbound and removed the long abundant braids from her head, wiped the pink from her face, took out several pearly teeth, and slipping off her dress appeared herself indeed, a haggard, worn, and moody woman of thirty at least. The metamorphosis was wonderful, but the disguise was more in the expression she assumed than in any art of costume or false adornment. Now she was alone, and her mobile features settled into their natural expression, weary, hard, bitter. She had been lovely once, happy, innocent, and tender; but nothing of all this remained to the gloomy woman who leaned there brooding over some wrong, or loss, or disappointment which had darkened all her life. For an hour she sat so, sometimes playing absently with the scanty locks that hung about her face, sometimes lifting the glass to her lips as if the fiery draught warmed her cold blood; and once she half uncovered her breast to eye with a terrible glance the scar of a newly healed wound. At last she rose and crept to bed, like one worn out with weariness and mental pain.
Chapter II A GOOD BEGINNING
Only the housemaids were astir when Miss Muir left her room next morning and quietly found her way into the garden. As she walked, apparently intent upon the flowers, her quick eye scrutinized the fine old house and its picturesque surroundings.
“Not bad,” she said to herself, adding, as she passed into the adjoining park, “but the other may be better, and I will have the best.”
Walking rapidly, she came out at length upon the wide green lawn which lay before the ancient hall where Sir John Coventry lived in solitary splendor. A stately old place, rich in oaks, well-kept shrubberies, gay gardens, sunny terraces, carved gables, spacious rooms, liveried servants, and every luxury befitting the ancestral home of a rich and honorable race. Miss Muir’s eyes brightened as she looked, her step grew firmer, her carriage prouder, and a smile broke over her face; the