HOW THEY WALKED INTO LENNOX’S LIFE

“Come out for a drive, Harry?”

“Too cold.”

“Have a game of billiards?”

“Too tired.”

“Go and call on the Fairchilds?”

“Having an unfortunate prejudice against country girls, I respectfully decline.”

“What will you do, then?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

And, settling himself more luxuriously upon the couch, Lennox closed his eyes, and appeared to slumber tranquilly. Kate shook her head, and stood regarding her brother despondently, till a sudden idea made her turn toward the window, exclaiming abruptly,

“Scarlet stockings, Harry!”

“Where?” and, as if the words were a spell to break the deepest day-dream, Lennox hurried to the window, with an unusual expression of interest in his listless face.

“I thought that would succeed! She isn’t there, but I’ve got you up, and you are not to go down again,” laughed Kate, taking possession of the sofa.

“Not a bad manoeuvre. I don’t mind: it’s about time for the one interesting event of the day to occur, so I’ll watch for myself, thank you,” and Lennox took the easy chair by the window with a shrug and a yawn.

“I’m glad any thing does interest you,” said Kate, petulantly. “I don’t think it amounts to much, for, though you perch yourself at the window every day to see that girl pass, you don’t care enough about it to ask her name.”

“I’ve been waiting to be told.”

“It’s Belle Morgan, the doctor’s daughter, and my dearest friend.”

“Then, of course, she is a blue-belle?”

“Don’t try to be witty or sarcastic with her, for she will beat you at that.”

“Not a dumb-belle, then?”

“Quite the reverse: she talks a good deal, and very well, too, when she likes.”

“She is very pretty: has anybody the right to call her ’Ma belle’?”

“Many would be glad to do so, but she won’t have any thing to say to them.”

“A Canterbury belle, in every sense of the word, then?”

“She might be, for all Canterbury loves her; but she isn’t fashionable, and has more friends among the poor than among the rich.”

“Ah, I see, a diving-bell, who knows how to go down into a sea of troubles, and bring up the pearls worth having.”

“I’ll tell her that, it will please her. You are really waking up, Harry,” and Kate smiled approvingly upon him.

“This page of ‘Belle’s Life’ is rather amusing, so read away,” said Lennox, glancing up-the street, as if he awaited the appearance of the next edition with pleasure.

“There isn’t much to tell; she is a nice, bright, energetic, warm-hearted dear; the pride of the doctor’s heart, and a favorite with every one, though she is odd.”

“How odd?”

“Does and says what she likes, is very blunt and honest, has ideas and principles of her own, goes to parties in high dresses, won’t dance round dances, and wears red stockings, though Mrs. Plantagenet says it’s fast.”

“Rather a jolly little person, I fancy. Why haven’t we met her at some of the tea-fights and muffin-worries we’ve been to lately?”

“It may make you angry, but it will do you good, so I’ll tell. She didn’t care enough about seeing the distinguished stranger to come; that’s the truth.”

“Sensible girl, to spare herself hours of mortal dulness, gossip, and dyspepsia,” was the placid reply.

“She has seen you, though, at church, and dawdling about town, and she called you ‘Sir Charles Coldstream,’ on the spot. How does that suit?” asked Kate, maliciously.

“Not bad; I rather like that. Wish she’d call some day, and stir us up.”

“She won’t; I asked her, but she said she was very busy, and told Jessy Tudor she wasn’t fond of peacocks.”

“I don’t exactly see the connection.”

“Stupid boy! she meant you, of course.”

“Oh, I’m peacocks, am I?”

“I don’t wish to be rude, but I really do think you are vain of your good looks, elegant accomplishments, and the impression you make wherever you go. When it’s worth while, you exert yourself, and are altogether fascinating; but the ‘I come-see-and-conquer’ air you put on spoils it all for sensible people.”

“It strikes me that Miss Morgan has slightly infected you with her oddity, as far as bluntness goes. Fire away! it’s rather amusing to be abused when one is dying of ennui.”

“That’s grateful and complimentary to me, when I have devoted myself to you ever since you came. But every thing bores you, and the only sign of interest you’ve shown is in those absurd red hose. I should like to know what the charm is,” said Kate, sharply.

“Impossible to say; accept the fact calmly as I do, and be grateful that there is one glimpse of color, life, and spirit in this aristocratic tomb of a town.”

“You are not obliged to stay in it!” fiercely.

“Begging your pardon, my dove, but I am. I promised to give you my enlivening society for a month, and a Lennox keeps his word, even at the cost of his life.”

“I’m sorry I asked such a sacrifice; but I innocently thought that, after being away for five long years, you might care to see your orphan sister,” and the dove produced her handkerchief with a plaintive sniff.

“Now, my dear creature, don’t be melodramatic, I beg of you!” cried her brother, imploringly. “I wished to come, I pined to embrace you, and, I give you my word, I don’t blame you for the stupidity of this confounded place.”

“It never was so gay as since you came, for every one has tried to make it pleasant for you,” cried Kate, ruffled at his indifference to the hospitable efforts of herself and friends. “But you don’t care for any of our simple amusements, because you are spoilt by the flattery, gayety, and nonsense of foreign society. If I didn’t know it was half affectation, I should be in despair, you are so blase and absurd. It’s always the way with men: if one happens to be handsome, accomplished, and talented, he puts on as many airs, and is as vain as any silly girl.”

“Don’t you think if you took breath you’d get on faster, my dear?” asked the imperturbable gentleman, as Kate paused with a gasp.

“I know it’s useless for me to talk, as you don’t care a straw what I say; but it’s true, and some day you’ll wish you had done something worth doing all these years. I was so proud of you, so fond of you, that I can’t help being disappointed to find you with no more ambition than to kill time comfortably, no interest in any thing but your own pleasures, and only energy enough to amuse yourself with a pair of scarlet stockings.”

Pathetic as poor Kate’s face and voice were, it was impossible to help laughing at the comical conclusion of her lament. Lennox tried to hide the smile on his lips by affecting to curl his moustache with care, and to gaze pensively out as if touched by her appeal. But he wasn’t, oh, bless you, no! she was only his sister, and, though she might have talked with the wisdom of Solomon and the eloquence of Demosthenes, it wouldn’t have done a particle of good. Sisters do very well to work for one, to pet one, and play confidante when one’s love affairs need feminine wit to conduct them; but when they begin to reprove, or criticise, or moralize, it won’t do, and can’t be allowed, of course. Lennox never snubbed anybody, but blandly extinguished them by a polite acquiescence in all their affirmations, for the time being, and then went on in his own way as if nothing had been said.

“I dare say you are right; I’ll go and think over your very sensible advice,” and, as if roused to unwonted exertion by the stings of an accusing conscience, he left the room abruptly.

“I do believe I’ve made an impression at last! He’s actually gone out to think over what I’ve said. Dear Harry, I was sure he had a heart, if one only knew how to get at it!” and with a sigh of satisfaction Kate went to the window to behold the “Dear Harry” going briskly down the street after a pair of scarlet stockings. A spark of anger kindled in her eyes as she watched him, and when he vanished she still stood knitting her brows in deep thought, for a grand idea was dawning upon her.

It was a dull town; no one could deny that, for everybody was so intensely proper and well-born that nobody dared to be jolly. All the houses were square, aristocratic mansions with Revolutionary elms in front and spacious coach-houses behind. The knockers had a supercilious perk to their bronze or brass noses, the dandelions on the lawns had a highly connected air, and the very pigs were evidently descended from “our first families.” Stately dinner-parties, decorous dances, moral picnics, and much tea-pot gossiping were the social resources of the place. Of course, the young people flirted, for that diversion is apparently irradicable even in the “best society,” but it was done with a propriety which was edifying to behold.

One can easily imagine that such a starched state of things would not be particularly attractive to a travelled young gentleman like Lennox, who, as Kate very truly said, had been spoilt by the flattery, luxury, and gayety of foreign society. He did his best, but by the end of the first week ennui claimed him for its own, and passive endurance was all that was left him. From perfect despair he was rescued by the scarlet stockings, which went tripping by one day as he stood at the window, planning some means of escape.

A brisk, blithe-faced girl passed in a gray walking suit with a distracting pair of high-heeled boots and glimpses of scarlet at the ankle. Modest, perfectly so, I assure you, were the glimpses; but the feet were so decidedly pretty that one forgot to look at the face appertaining thereunto. It wasn’t a remarkably lovely face, but it was a happy, wholesome one, with all sorts of good little dimples in cheek and chin, sunshiny twinkles in the black eyes, and a decided yet lovable look about the mouth that was quite satisfactory. A busy, bustling little body she seemed to be, for sack-pockets and muff were full of bundles, and the trim boots tripped briskly over the ground, as if the girl’s heart were as light as her heels. Somehow this active, pleasant figure seemed to wake up the whole street, and leave a streak of sunshine behind it, for every one nodded as it passed, and the primmest faces relaxed into smiles, which lingered when the girl had gone.

“Uncommonly pretty feet, she walks well, which American girls seldom do, all waddle or prance, nice face, but the boots are French, and it does my heart good to see them.”

Lennox made these observations to himself as the young lady approached, nodded to Kate at another window, gave a quick but comprehensive glance at himself and trotted round the corner, leaving the impression on his mind that a whiff of fresh spring air had blown through the street in spite of the December snow. He didn’t trouble himself to ask who it was, but fell into the way of lounging in the bay-window at about three P.M., and watching the gray and scarlet figure pass with its blooming cheeks, bright eyes, and elastic step. Having nothing else to do, he took to petting this new whim, and quite depended on the daily stirring up which the sight of the energetic damsel gave him. Kate saw it all, but took no notice till the day of the little tiff above recorded; after that she was as soft as a summer sea, and by some clever stroke had Belle Morgan to tea that very week.

Lennox was one of the best-tempered fellows in the world, but the “peacocks” did rather nettle him, because there was some truth in the insinuation; so he took care to put on no airs or try to be fascinating in the presence of Miss Belle. In truth, he soon forgot himself entirely, and enjoyed her oddities with a relish, after the prim proprieties of the other young ladies who had simpered and sighed before him. For the first time in his life, the “Crusher,” as his male friends called him, got crushed; for Belle, with the subtle skill of a quick-witted, keen-sighted girl, soon saw and condemned the elegant affectations which others called foreign polish. A look, a word, a gesture from a pretty woman, is often more eloquent and impressive than moral essays or semi-occasional twinges of conscience; and in the presence of one satirical little person Sir Charles Coldstream soon ceased to deserve the name.

Belle seemed to get over her hurry and to find time for occasional relaxation, but one never knew in what mood he might find her, for the weathercock was not more changeable than she. Lennox liked that, and found the muffin-worries quite endurable with this sauce piquante to relieve their insipidity. Presently he discovered that he was suffering for exercise, and formed the wholesome habit of promenading the town about three P.M.; Kate said, to follow the scarlet stockings.