Behind a Mask; or, a Woman's Power. Луиза Мэй ОлкоттЧитать онлайн книгу.
to whom all submitted without dreaming of refusal.
“What have you been doing? Muddling your poor little brains with all manner of elegant rubbish?”
“No, I’ve been enjoying myself immensely. Jean is so interesting, so kind and clever. She didn’t bore me with stupid grammar, but just talked to me in such pretty French that I got on capitally, and like it as I never expected to, after Lucia’s dull way of teaching it.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Oh, all manner of things. She asked questions, and I answered, and she corrected me.”
“Questions about our affairs, I suppose?”
“Not one. She don’t care two sous for us or our affairs. I thought she might like to know what sort of people we were, so I told her about Papa’s sudden death, Uncle John, and you, and Ned; but in the midst of it she said, in her quiet way, ‘You are getting too confidential, my dear. It is not best to talk too freely of one’s affairs to strangers. Let us speak of something else.’ ”
“What were you talking of when she said that, Bell?”
“You.”
“Ah, then no wonder she was bored.”
“She was tired of my chatter, and didn’t hear half I said; for she was busy sketching something for me to copy, and thinking of something more interesting than the Coventrys.”
“How do you know?”
“By the expression of her face. Did you like her music, Gerald?”
“Yes. Was she angry when I clapped?”
“She looked surprised, then rather proud, and shut the piano at once, though I begged her to go on. Isn’t Jean a pretty name?”
“Not bad; but why don’t you call her Miss Muir?”
“She begged me not. She hates it, and loves to be called Jean, alone. I’ve imagined such a nice little romance about her, and someday I shall tell her, for I’m sure she has had a love trouble.”
“Don’t get such nonsense into your head, but follow Miss Muir’s well-bred example and don’t be curious about other people’s affairs. Ask her to sing tonight; it amuses me.”
“She won’t come down, I think. We’ve planned to read and work in my boudoir, which is to be our study now. Mamma will stay in her room, so you and Lucia can have the drawing room all to yourselves.”
“Thank you. What will Ned do?”
“He will amuse Mamma, he says. Dear old Ned! I wish you’d stir about and get him his commission. He is so impatient to be doing something and yet so proud he won’t ask again, after you have neglected it so many times and refused Uncle’s help.”
“I’ll attend to it very soon; don’t worry me, child. He will do very well for a time, quietly here with us.”
“You always say that, yet you know he chafes and is unhappy at being dependent on you. Mamma and I don’t mind; but he is a man, and it frets him. He said he’d take matters into his own hands soon, and then you may be sorry you were so slow in helping him.”
“Miss Muir is looking out of the window. You’d better go and take your run, else she will scold.”
“Not she. I’m not a bit afraid of her, she’s so gentle and sweet. I’m fond of her already. You’ll get as brown as Ned, lying here in the sun. By the way, Miss Muir agrees with me in thinking him handsomer than you.”
“I admire her taste and quite agree with her.”
“She said he was manly, and that was more attractive than beauty in a man. She does express things so nicely. Now I’m off.” And away danced Bella, humming the burden of Miss Muir’s sweetest song.
“ ‘Energy is more attractive than beauty in a man.’ She is right, but how the deuce can a man be energetic, with nothing to expend his energies upon?” mused Coventry, with his hat over his eyes.
A few moments later, the sweep of a dress caught his ear. Without stirring, a sidelong glance showed him Miss Muir coming across the terrace, as if to join Bella. Two stone steps led down to the lawn. He lay near them, and Miss Muir did not see him till close upon him. She started and slipped on the last step, recovered herself, and glided on, with a glance of unmistakable contempt as she passed the recumbent figure of the apparent sleeper. Several things in Bella’s report had nettled him, but this look made him angry, though he would not own it, even to himself.
“Gerald, come here, quick!” presently called Bella, from the rustic seat where she stood beside her governess, who sat with her hand over her face as if in pain.
Gathering himself up, Coventry slowly obeyed, but involuntarily quickened his pace as he heard Miss Muir say, “Don’t call him; he can do nothing”; for the emphasis on the word “he” was very significant.
“What is it, Bella?” he asked, looking rather wider awake than usual.
“You startled Miss Muir and made her turn her ankle. Now help her to the house, for she is in great pain; and don’t lie there anymore to frighten people like a snake in the grass,” said his sister petulantly.
“I beg your pardon. Will you allow me?” And Coventry offered his arm.
Miss Muir looked up with the expression which annoyed him and answered coldly, “Thank you, Miss Bella will do as well.”
“Permit me to doubt that.” And with a gesture too decided to be resisted, Coventry drew her arm through his and led her into the house. She submitted quietly, said the pain would soon be over, and when settled on the couch in Bella’s room dismissed him with the briefest thanks. Considering the unwonted exertion he had made, he thought she might have been a little more grateful, and went away to Lucia, who always brightened when he came.
No more was seen of Miss Muir till teatime; for now, while the family were in retirement, they dined early and saw no company. The governess had excused herself at dinner, but came down in the evening a little paler than usual and with a slight limp in her gait. Sir John was there, talking with his nephew, and they merely acknowledged her presence by the sort of bow which gentlemen bestow on governesses. As she slowly made her way to her place behind the urn, Coventry said to his brother, “Take her a footstool, and ask her how she is, Ned.” Then, as if necessary to account for his politeness to his uncle, he explained how he was the cause of the accident.
“Yes, yes. I understand. Rather a nice little person, I fancy. Not exactly a beauty, but accomplished and well-bred, which is better for one of her class.”
“Some tea, Sir John?” said a soft voice at his elbow, and there was Miss Muir, offering cups to the gentlemen.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Sir John, sincerely hoping she had overheard him.
As Coventry took his, he said graciously, “You are very forgiving, Miss Muir, to wait upon me, after I have caused you so much pain.”
“It is my duty, sir” was her reply, in a tone which plainly said, “but not my pleasure.” And she returned to her place, to smile, and chat, and be charming, with Bella and her brother.
Lucia, hovering near her uncle and Gerald, kept them to herself, but was disturbed to find that their eyes often wandered to the cheerful group about the table, and that their attention seemed distracted by the frequent bursts of laughter and fragments of animated conversation which reached them. In the midst of an account of a tragic affair which she endeavored to make as interesting and pathetic as possible, Sir John burst into a hearty laugh, which betrayed that he had been listening to a livelier story than her own. Much annoyed, she said hastily, “I knew it would be so! Bella has no idea of the proper manner in which to treat a governess. She and Ned will forget the difference of rank and spoil that person for her work. She is inclined to be