Home > Authors Index > Maude Alma > Isabel Leicester: A Romance > This page
Isabel Leicester: A Romance, a novel by Maude Alma |
||
Chapter 29 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXIX A year has passed since the events recorded in the last chapter; things have gone on much the same, Everard trying to appear indifferent, while in reality he was not so, but succeeding so well that Isabel felt almost ashamed of her preference for him, and was, also, only too successful in concealing her true feelings. She is now paying Emily a visit, though it was seldom that she could be persuaded to accept any invitation. But in justice to her old friends, it must be said that they often endeavored to do so. Ever since she came to Elm Grove she had always received abundant invitations for the holidays; but, with the exception of the Morningtons, Isabel had never been able to overcome her pride sufficiently to visit, in her present position, those she had known when in such different circumstances. Harry and Emily, after travelling about for some time, had settled in H----, not far from the college, and had insisted upon Everard spending a great deal of his time with them, as they had fitted up a nice little study for his especial use. Emily was very anxious for the ordination, and had announced her intentions to hear him preach his first sermon, let it be when and where it might, in spite of his saying that he would go where he was quite unknown. "Now, Everard, I'm going to have a party on the fifth," said Emily, "and I want you to bring some of the students, and I should like very much to have tall, handsome ones, and none of your little 'ugly mugs.' I want particularly that nice Mr. Elliott you introduced to me the other day." "I do not choose my friends merely for their appearance, and Elliott is not one of the students," returned Everard. "Never mind who he is, I want him to come." "I will ask him if he is in town; but I can't come, I am altogether too busy." "Nonsense, Everard, you only say that to vex me. I mean you to come, that's pos'. Isn't he provoking, Isabel?" "Perhaps his business is as important as it was that Christmas," said Isabel, quietly. Everard looked up quickly from his book, but Isabel was fully employed with her tatting. "What do you know about my engagements at that time?" he asked. "Oh, nothing; only, perhaps, you can as easily put aside your work as you did then." "How do you know that it was so easy?" he inquired. "Only from appearances." "Appearances are often deceitful." "Very." Again the rapid glance of inquiry, but he could make nothing of her placid countenance; and the single word "very," it must have been his own imagination that gave significance to the very decided manner in which she had uttered it, or did she, indeed, see through his assumed indifference? "You speak as though you had some experience," he said. Isabel crimsoned, for she felt very guilty. "Do you try to appear different to what you are in reality?" he inquired. "Do you?" "Why do you ask?" he said. "Why do you?" she retorted. "Isabel, Isabel! the carriage will be here in five minutes," interposed Emily, "make haste and put your things on." The fifth came in due course, and Mr. Elliott with it. "Let me introduce to you a partner," said Emily, taking him up to Isabel. "We have known each other too long to need an introduction, have we not, Isabel?" he said pleasantly. Then turning to Emily he added, "Thanks, Mrs. Mornington, for an unexpected pleasure." Everard, who was near by, heard him call her by her Christian name, and saw the warm welcome accorded him, and the evident pleasure the meeting caused Isabel. He was furiously jealous, and walked away intensely disgusted. "You are a stranger here, are you not?" asked Emily. "Oh, quite." "Then I leave you in Isabel's hands." "Could not be in better," he said, smiling, and Charley Elliott's smile was a very pleasant one. Emily was enchanted, and went to sing his praises to Everard, much to his annoyance. "Upon my word, Emily, if I were Harry I should be positively jealous." "Oh, jealousy is not Harry's forte; he leaves that to Mr. Everard Arlington," she said saucily, with a low curtsey and a most provokingly wise expression. "Emily!" "Don't be a goose, Evie." "Where have you been this long, long time, Isabel?" asked Elliott, "I have missed you so much." "Have you, Charley? I'm glad to hear that some one has missed me. The happy past seems almost like a dream, it seems so far away." "It was too bright to last; don't you think so, Isabel?" "Perhaps so." "Ah, those were days to remember, the excursions I had with you and Harley. But I, too, have had my troubles," he added, gravely. "Who is exempt?" she returned. "But what of Harley, foolish Harley? Whatever possessed him to go to India? But," she added, with a sigh, "it would not have availed him much to have stayed, as it turned out." "I don't know; I think he would have done more wisely to have remained." "Why he went, I never could fathom." "You never knew?" "Never. He assured me that he had good and sufficient reason, and that papa thought so, too." "I didn't think them good, or sufficient either, but he wouldn't take my advice. It was our only quarrel, and I believe I have scarcely forgiven him yet for going. It would, I am convinced, have been better for all if he had not done so," and the tears stood in the young lieutenant's eyes. Though brave as a lion, Charley Elliott had a kind and loving heart. There was a soft, warm light in the deep-blue eyes; no one could know Charley Elliott without loving him. Everard had no mean rival, if Charley was one. But he was not. He loved Isabel, it is true, with all the warmth of his ardent nature, but he loved her as he might a beautiful sister. He thought her worthy of Harley--his Harley--the pride of his boyhood, who in his eyes could do no wrong, until one day when he told him that he was going to India. Charley's grief was excessive, but his indignation arose when he learned the cause. Harley Elliott was ten years his brother's senior. He was the favorite clerk in the firm of Leicester & Co. Had Isabel to be met anywhere, and her father was unable to go, Harley was invariably sent; he was constantly at the house for one thing or another. As Isabel grew up he was frequently called upon to escort her and her young friends to places of amusement. As might be supposed, he became deeply in love with her, until at last life was almost a burden, for Harley was sensitive and high-minded to a degree: as a poor clerk, he was too proud to woo the rich merchant's daughter. He determined, therefore, to try to amass wealth in another land, and, if successful, to return and endeavor to win her; if not, to remain forever away. But Charley, a boy of sixteen, could not appreciate this course. "Stay and be brave-hearted, Harley," he said, "she will, she must, love you, and the Governor will not refuse." But all he could obtain from Harley was a promise that he would tell Mr. Leicester the true cause of his going. Charley had great hopes as to the success of this course, but Harley was not so sanguine, and Harley was right. Mr. Leicester quite approved of his going, and offered him letters of introduction to parties at Calcutta. True, he inquired if the attachment was mutual. But when Harley confessed that he had not sought to know, considering himself in honor bound not to do so in his present circumstances, he was well satisfied that it was so. He took care, also, to find out if Isabel really had a preference for Harley, lest by urging his departure he might make her unhappy. And it must be admitted that he was glad to see that she was heart whole as yet, for he wished her to make a more brilliant match. So he wished Harley success, and did all in his power to hasten his departure. Poor Charley had missed his brother sadly. He would have accompanied him but for his mother, who was not strong, and certainly could not have borne the climate. "But your troubles, Charley; you have not told me of them," said Isabel. "Is not Harley doing well?" "Yes, now; but it was some time first. I am going to see him soon. But it was my mother's death to which I alluded just now." "Oh, have you lost your mother? Poor Charley!" "Don't talk of her, Isabel, I can't bear it," and Charley brushed away a tear. Dance succeeded dance, and Isabel was still Charley's partner. "There are half-a-dozen gentlemen dying to be introduced to Miss Leicester, and you give them no chance, Mr. Elliott," said Emily. "Very well, but remember, Isabel, that we are engaged for the after-supper galop." "I'll not forget," she returned. Now it so chanced that Everard had so often been Isabel's partner for that dance, that he began to consider it a matter of course, and was highly offended when, after keeping away all the evening, he approached her, saying, "This is our dance, is it not, Miss Leicester?" and she replied, "You are too late, Mr. Arlington," and whirled off with Charley Elliott. "Why did you do that?" he asked, when Isabel was again seated. "Was I to refuse a partner in case Mr. Arlington, after keeping away all the evening, should condescend to ask me? I think you expect too much." "You knew I should come." "How could I know?" "I always do." "And do you always keep away all the evening?" He bit his lip. "Will you dance this?" "I am engaged." "The next." "Impossible, my card is quite filled up." "Never mind, you can strike out one of the names." "Why should I do so? You had the best chance; you were here from the first, but from some whim determined not to put down your name, and looked glum whenever I passed you, and now you think that I will treat one of these young men so unhandsomely. No, Mr. Arlington, I will not." "You chide me for not coming sooner. I thought you so well amused that I was not needed." "Needed, no; but still you have not been commonly civil to-night." "You are very unforgiving." "No, but I will not encourage your whims; you chose to sulk, it was no fault of mine." "As you will." "I think this dancing awfully stupid," he said to Emily, as Isabel went off with her partner, "I shall be glad when it is over." "Of course," she replied, with a most provoking laugh. "Parsons don't usually care for dancing," added Harry, in a tone equally irritating. But for Charley Elliott the evening would have been dull enough to Isabel. She would far rather have had Everard for a partner than any of those whose names were on her programme, but she believed that he had purposely avoided her all the earlier part of the evening: besides, Everard's manner towards her of late had become quite an enigma--now cold, almost haughty, then again soft, even tender, then indifferent--and Isabel resented its variableness. She was the more annoyed, as she knew that Emily was not quite in the dark. "I think Mr. Elliott is a very nice young man, don't you, Isabel?" said Emily at breakfast next morning. "Very," replied Isabel, coloring warmly as she caught Everard's penetrating glance. "A done thing, I see," laughed Harry. "How can you be so absurd, Harry?" Are you fond of sea voyages?" he continued. "I think them delightful." "Capital. Did you know that he was going to India?" "Yes." "You did? Well, really." "Oh, Harry, be quiet." "I thought you two seemed awfully good friends. Did you know him before last night?" "Certainly." "I am sure you don't agree with Everard that the party was a dreadfully slow affair?" "Oh, no; it was very pleasant." "I was very sure that Miss Leicester did not find it dull," said Everard coldly, almost scornfully. "Goosey, goosey!" said Emily, later in the day, as she came upon Everard in the music-room. "Why do you go on in this provoking way, Emily?" he said, angrily. "Because I have no patience with this stupid jealousy. If you care for her, why not try to win her in a straightforward manner; if not, why be vexed that another should?" "Why do you strive to undo that which has cost me so much? She is nothing to me; I have determined that she shall be nothing." "Then why so jealous?" "I cannot help it; you know that I cannot." "But why force yourself to give her up?" "Why, indeed," he echoed, "is it not worse than useless to cherish an attachment for one who is so perfectly indifferent?" "I do not believe that she is as indifferent and inaccessible as you imagine." "Why do you tempt me, Emily?" he returned, almost fiercely. "Let me be; the ordination will be very shortly, and I am sure of an appointment directly after." "Ah, goosey, goosey! 'Faint heart,' you know," she said, and left him--more angry with his favorite sister than he had ever been before. _ |
||