Nobody

"I am afraid to talk about it," she said at length,

"Why?"

"I should like it so much!" —

"Therefore you doubt?"

"Yes. I am afraid of listening just to my own pleasure."

"You shall not," said he, laughing. "Listen to mine. I want to see youreyes open at the Jung Frau, and Mont Blanc."

"My eyes open easily at anything," said Lois, yielding to thelaugh; – "they are such ignorant eyes."

"Very wise eyes, on the contrary! for they know a thing when they seeit."

"But they have seen so little," said Lois, finding it impossible to getback to a serious demeanour.

"That sole defect in your character, I propose to cure."

"Ah, do not praise me!"

"Why not? I used to rejoice in the remembrance that you were not anangel but human. Do you know the old lines? —

'A creature not too bright and goodFor human nature's daily food;For transient sorrows, simple wiles,Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.'

Only 'wiles' you never descend to; 'blame' is not to be thought of; ifyou forbid praise, what is left to me but the rest of it?"

And truly, what with laughter and some other emotions, tears were notfar from Lois's eyes; and how could the kisses be wanting?

"I never heard you talk so before!" she managed to say.

"I have only begun."

"Please come back to order, and sobriety."

"Sobriety is not in order, as your want of it shows."

"Then come back to Switzerland."

"Ah! – I want you to go up the AEggischhorn, and to stand on the Görner

Grät, and to cross a pass or two; and I want you to see the flowers."

"Are there so many?"

"More than on a western prairie in spring. Most people travel inSwitzerland later in the season, and so miss the flowers. You must notmiss them."

"What flowers are they?"

"A very great many kinds. I remember the gentians, and theforget-me-nots; but the profusion is wonderful, and exceedingly rich.They grow just at the edge of the snow, some of them. Then we willlinger a while at Zermatt and Chamounix, and a mountain pension hereand there, and so slowly work our way over into Italy. It will be toolate for Rome; but we will go, if you like it, to Venice; and then, asthe heats grow greater, get back into the Tyrol."

"O, Mrs. Barclay had beautiful views from the Tyrol; a few, but verybeautiful."

"How do you like my programme?"

"You have not mentioned glaciers."

"Are you' interested in glaciers?"

"Very much."

"You shall see as much of them as you can see safely from terra firma."

"Are they so dangerous?"

"Sometimes."

"But you have crossed them, have you not?"

"Times enough to make me scruple about your doing it."

"I am very sure-footed."

He kissed her hand, and inquired again what she thought of hisprogramme.

"There is no fault to be found with the programme. But – "

"If I add to it the crossing of a glacier?"

"No, no," said Lois, laughing; "do you think I am so insatiable? But – "

"Would you like it all, my darling?"

"Like it? Don't speak of liking," she said, with a quick breath ofexcitement. "But – "

"Well? But – what?"

"We are not going to live to ourselves?" She said it a little anxiouslyand eagerly, almost pleadingly.

"I do not mean it," he answered her, with a smile. "But as to thisjourney my mind is entirely clear. It will take but a few months. Andwhile we are wandering over the mountains, you and I will take ourBibles and study them and our work together. We can study where we stopto rest and where we stop to eat; I know by experience what good timesand places those are for other reading; and they cannot be so good forany as for this."

"Oh! how good!" said Lois, giving a little delighted and gratefulpressure to the hand in which her own still lay.

"You agree to my plans, then?"

"I agree to – part. What is that?" – for a slight noise was heard in thehall. – "O Philip, get up! – get up! – there is somebody coming!"

Mr. Dillwyn rose now, being bidden on this wise, and stood confrontingthe doorway, in which presently appeared his sister, Mrs. Burrage. Hestood quiet and calm to meet her; while Lois, hidden by the back of thegreat easy-chair, had a moment to collect herself. He shielded her asmuch as he could. A swift review of the situation made him resolve forthe present to "play dark." He could not trust his sister, that if thetruth of the case were suddenly made known to her, she would not by herspeech, or manner, or by her silence maybe, do something that wouldhurt Lois. He would not risk it. Give her time, and she would fitherself to her circumstances gracefully enough, he knew; and Lois neednever be told what had been her sister-in-law's first view of them. Sohe stood, with an unconcerned face, watching Mrs. Burrage come down theroom. And she, it may be said, came slowly, watching him.

CHAPTER XLVIII

ANNOUNCEMENTS

I have never described Mr. Dillwyn; and if I try to do it now, I amaware that words will give to nobody else the image of him. He was nota beauty, like Tom Caruthers; some people declared him not handsome atall, yet they were in a minority. Certainly his features were notaccording to classical rule, and criticism might find something to sayto every one of them; if I except the shape and air of the face andhead, the set of the latter, and the rich hair; which, very dark incolour, massed itself thick and high on the top of the head, and clungin close thick locks at the sides. The head sat nobly upon theshoulders, and correspondent therewith was the frank and manlyexpression of the face. I think irregular features sometimes make abetter whole than regular ones. Philip's eyes were not remarkable, unless for their honest and spirited outlook; his nose was neitherRoman nor Grecian, and his mouth was rather large; however, it wassomewhat concealed by the long soft moustache, which he wore after thefashion of some Continentals (N. B., not like the French emperor),carefully dressed and with points turning up; and the mouth itself wasboth manly and pleasant. Altogether, the people who denied Mr. Dillwynthe praise of beauty, never questioned that he was very fine-looking.His sister was excessively proud of him, and, naturally thought thatnothing less than the best of everything – more especially ofwomankind – was good enough for him. She was thinking this now, as shecame down the room, and looking jealously to see signs of what shedreaded, an entanglement that would preclude for ever his having thebest. Do not let us judge her hardly. What sister is not critical ofher brother's choice of a wife? If, indeed, she be willing that heshould have a wife at all. Mrs. Burrage watched for signs, but sawnothing. Philip stood there, calmly smiling at her, not at allflustered by her appearance. Lois saw his coolness too, and envied it; feeling that as a man, and as a man of the world, he had greatly theadvantage of her. She was nervous, and felt flushed. However, there isa power of will in some women which can do a great deal, and Lois wasdetermined that Mr. Dillwyn should not be ashamed of her. By the timeit was needful for her to rise she did rise, and faced her visitor witha very quiet and perfectly composed manner. Only, if anything, it was atrifle too quiet; but her manner was other wise quite faultless.

"Philip! – " said Mrs. Burrage, advancing – "Good morning – Miss Lothrop.

Philip, what are you doing here?"

"I believe you asked me that question once on a former occasion. Then,I think, I had been making toast. Now, I have been telling Miss Lothropmy plans for the summer, since she was so good as to listen."

"Plans?" repeated Mrs. Burrage. "What plans?" She looked doubtfullyfrom one to the other of the faces before her. "Does he tell you hisplans, Miss Lothrop?"

"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois. "I am always interestedwhen anybody speaks of Switzerland."

"Switzerland!" cried the lady, sinking into a chair, and her eyes goingto her brother again. "You are not talking of Switzerland for nextsummer?"

"Where can one be better in summer?"

"But you have been there ever so many times!"

"By which I know how good it will be to go again."

"I thought you would spend the summer with me!"

"Where?" he asked, with a smile.

"Philip, I wish you would dress your hair like other people."

"It defies dressing, sister," he said, passing his hand over the thickmass.

"No, no, I mean your moustache. When you smile, it gives you a demoniacexpression, which drives me out of all patience. Miss Lothrop, would henot look a great deal better if he would cut off those Hungariantwists, and wear his upper lip like a Christian?"

This was a trial! Lois gave one glance at the moustache in question, aglance compounded of mingled horror and amusement, and flushed allover. Philip saw the glance and commanded his features only by a strongexertion of will, remaining, however, to all seeming as impassive as ajudge.

"You don't think so?" said Mrs. Burrage. "Philip, why are you not atthat picture sale this minute, with me?"

"Why are you not there, let me ask, this minute without me?"

"Because I wanted you to tell me if I should buy in that Murillo."

"I can tell you as well here as there. What do you want to buy it for?"

"What a question! Why, they say it is a genuine Murillo, and no doubtabout it; and I have just one place on the wall in my seconddrawing-room, where something is wanting; there is one place not filledup, and it looks badly."

"And the Murillo is to fill up the vacant space?"

"Yes. If you say it is worth it."

"Worth what?"

"The money. Five hundred. But I dare say they would take four, andperhaps three. It is a real Murillo, they say. Everybody says."

"Jessie, I think it would be extravagance."

"Extravagance! Five hundred dollars for a Murillo! Why, everybody saysit is no price at all."

"Not for the Murillo; but for a wall panel, I think it is. What do yousay, Miss Lothrop, to panelling a room at five hundred dollars thepanel?"

"Miss Lothrop's experience in panels would hardly qualify her to answeryou," Mrs. Burrage said, with a polite covert sneer.

"Miss Lothrop has experience in some other things," Philip returnedimmoveably. But the appeal put Lois in great embarrassment.

"What is the picture?" she asked, as the best way out of it.

"It's a St. Sebastian," Mrs. Burrage answered shortly.

"Do you know the story?" asked Philip. "He was an officer in thehousehold of the Roman emperor, Diocletian; a Christian; and discoveredto be a Christian by his bold and faithful daring in the cause oftruth. Diocletian ordered him to be bound to a tree and shot to deathwith arrows, and that the inscription over his head should state thatthere was no fault found in him but only that he was a Christian. Thispicture my sister wants to buy, shows him stripped and bound to thetree, and the executioner's work going on. Arrows are piercing him invarious places; and the saint's face is raised to heaven with the lookupon it of struggling pain and triumphing faith together. You can seethat the struggle is sharp, and that only strength which is not his ownenables him to hold out; but you see that he will hold out, and themartyr's palm of victory is even already waving before him."

Lois's eyes eagerly looked into those of the speaker while he went on; then they fell silently. Mrs. Burrage grew impatient.

"You tell it with a certain goût," she said. "It's a horrid story!"

"O, it's a beautiful story!" said Lois, suddenly looking up.

"If you like horrors," said the lady, shrugging her shoulders. "But Ibelieve you are one of that kind yourself, are you not?"

"Liking horrors?" said Lois, in astonishment.

"No, no, of course! not that. But I mean, you are one of that saint'sspiritual relations. Are you not? You would rather be shot than liveeasy?"

Philip bit his lip; but Lois answered with the most delicioussimplicity, —

"If living easy implied living unfaithful, I hope I would rather beshot." Her eyes looked, as she spoke, straight and quietly into thoseof her visitor.

"And I hope I would," added Philip.

"You?" said his sister, turning sharp upon him. "Everybody knows youwould!"

"But everybody does not know yet that I am a fellow-servant of thatSebastian of long ago; and that to me now, faithful and unfaithful meanthe same that they meant to him. Not faithfulness to man, butfaithfulness to God – or unfaithfulness."

"Philip! – "

"And as faithfulness is a word of large comprehension, it takes in alsothe use of money," Mr. Dillwyn went on smiling; "and so, Jessie, Ithink, you see, with my new views of things, that five hundred dollarsis too much for a panel."

"Or for a picture, I suppose!" said Mrs. Burrage, with dry concentratedexpression.

"Depends. Decidedly too much for a picture not meant to be looked at?"

"Why shouldn't it be looked at?"

"People will not look much at what they cannot understand."

"Why shouldn't they understand it?"

"It is a representation of giving up all for Christ, and offaithfulness unto death. What do the crowds who fill your seconddrawing-room know about such experience?"

Mrs. Burrage had put the foregoing questions dryly and shortly, examining her brother while he spoke, with intent, searching eyes. Shehad risen once as if to go, and now sat down again. Lois thought sheeven turned pale.

"Philip! – I never heard you talk so before. What do you mean?"

"Merely to let you know that I am a Christian. It is time."

"You were always a Christian!"

"In name. Now it is reality."

"You don't mean that you —you!– have become one of those fanatics?"

"What fanatics?"

"Those people who give up everything for religion, and are insane uponthe subject."

"You could not have described it better, than in the first half of yourspeech. I have given up everything for religion. That is, I have givenmyself and all I have to Christ and his service; and whatever I dohenceforth, I do only in that character and in that interest. But as tosanity," – he smiled again, – "I think I was never sane until now."

Mrs. Burrage had risen for the second time, and her brother was nowstanding opposite to her; and if she had been proud of him a littlewhile before, it was Lois's turn now. The calm, clear frankness andnobleness of his face and bearing made her heart fairly swell with itsgladness and admiration; but it filled the other woman's heart with adifferent feeling.

"And this is you, Philip Dillwyn!" she said bitterly. "And I know you; what you have said you will stand to. Such a man as you! lost to theworld!"

"Why lost to the world, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois gently. She had risentoo. The other lady faced her.

"Without more knowledge of what the world is, I could hardly explain toyou," she said, with cool rudeness; the sort of insolence that a finelady can use upon occasion when it suits her. Philip's face flushed, but he would not make the rudeness more palpable by seeming to noticeit.

"I hope it is the other way," he said. "I have been an idle man all mylife hitherto, and have done nothing except for myself. Nobody could beof less use to the world."

"And what are you going to do now?"

"I cannot tell. I shall find out. I am going to study the question."

"And is Miss Lothrop your teacher?"

The civil sneer was too apparent again, but it did not call up a flushthis time. Philip was too angry. It was Lois that answered, andpleasantly, —

"She does not even wish to be that."

"Haven't you taught him already?" asked the lady, with promptinquisition.

"Yes," said Philip.

Lois did colour now; she could not deny the fact, nor even declare thatit had been an unintentional fact; but her colour was very pretty, andso was the sort of deprecating way in which she looked at her futuresister-in-law. Not disarmed, Mrs. Burrage went on.

"It is a dangerous office to take, my dear, for we women never can keepit. We may think we stand on an eminence of wisdom one day; and thenext we find we have to come down to a very lowly place, and sit atsomebody else's feet, and receive our orders. I find it rather hardsometimes. Well, Philip, – will you go on with the lesson I suppose Ihave interrupted? or will you have the complaisance to go with me tosee about the Murillo?"

"I will certainly stay."

"Rather hard upon me, after promising me last night you would go."

"I made no such promise."

"Indeed you did, begging your pardon. Last night, when you came homewith the horses, I told you of the sale, and asked you if you would goand see that I did not get cheated."

"I have no recollection of it."

"And you said you would with pleasure."

"That is no longer possible, Jessie. And the sale would be overbefore we could get to it," he added, looking at his watch.

"Shall I leave you here, then?" said the lady, with a mingling ofdisagreeable feelings which found indescribable expression.

"If Miss Lothrop will let me be left. You forget, it depends upon herpermission."

"Miss Lothrop," said the lady, offering her hand to Lois with formalpoliteness, "I do not ask you the question, for my brother all his lifehas never been refused anything he chose to demand. Pardon me my wantof attention; he is responsible for it, having upset all my ideas withhis strange announcements. Good-bye!"

Lois curtseyed silently. In all this dialogue, the contrast had beenstriking between the two ladies; for the advantage of manner had beenon the side, not of the experienced woman of the world, but of theyounger and simpler and country-bred little Shampuashuh woman. It comesto this; that the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians gives one thevery soul and essence of what in the world is called good breeding; thekernel and thing itself; while what is for the most part known insociety is the empty shell, simulating and counterfeiting it only.Therefore he in whose heart that thirteenth chapter is a living truth, will never be ill-bred; and if he possesses besides a sensitive andrefined nature, and is free of self-consciousness, and has some commonsense to boot, he has all the make-up of the veriest high-breeding.Nothing could seem more unruffled, because nothing could be moreunruffled, than Lois during this whole interview; she was even a littlesorry for Mrs. Burrage, knowing that the lady would be very sorryherself afterwards for what she had done; and Lois meant to bury it inperfect oblivion. So her demeanour was free, simple, dignified, mostgraceful; and Philip was penetrated with delight and shame at once. Hewent with his sister to put her in her carriage, which was done withscarce any words on either part; and then returned to the room where hehad left Lois. She was still standing beside her chair, having in truthher thoughts too busy to remember to sit down. Philip's action was tocome straight to her and fold his arms round her. They were arms ofcaressing and protection at once; Lois felt both the caressing and theprotecting clasp, as something her life had never known before; and athrill went through her of happiness that was almost mingled with awe.

"My darling!" – said Philip – "will you hold me responsible? Will youcharge it all upon me? – and let me make it good as best I can?"

"O Philip, there is nothing to charge!" said Lois, lifting her flushedface, "fair as the moon," to meet his anxious eyes. "Do not think of itagain. It is perfectly natural, from her point of view. You know, youare very much Somebody; and I – am Nobody."

The remainder of the interview may be left unreported.

It lasted till the two ladies returned from the matinée. Mrs. Wishartimmediately retained Mr. Dillwyn for luncheon, and the two girls wentup-stairs together.

"How long has that man been here?" was Madge's disrespectful inquiry.

"I don't know."

"What did he come for?"

"I suppose – to see me."

"To see you! Did he come to take you sleigh-riding again?"

"He said nothing about sleigh-riding."

"The snow is all slush down in the city. What did he want to see youfor, then?" said Madge, turning round upon her sister, while at thesame time she was endeavouring to extricate her head from her bonnet, which was caught upon a pin.

"He had something to say to me," Lois answered, trembling with an oddsort of excitement.

"What? – Lois, not that?" cried Madge, stopping with her bonnet onlyhalf off her head. But Lois nodded; and Madge dropped herself into thenearest chair, making no further effort as regarded the bonnet.

"Lois! – What did you say to him?"

"What could I say to him?"

"Why, two or three things, I should think. If it was I, I shouldthink so."

"There can be but one answer to such a question. It must be yes or no."

"I am sure that's two to choose from. Have you gone and said yes tothat man?"

"Don't you like him?" said Lois, with a furtive smile, glancing up ather sister now from under lowered eyelids.

"Like him! I never saw the man yet, that I liked as well as my liberty."

"Liberty!"

"Yes. Have you forgotten already what that means? O Lois! have you saidyes to that man? Why, I am always afraid of him, every time I see him."

"Afraid of him?"

"Yes. I get over it after he has been in the room a while; but the nexttime I see him it comes back. O Lois! are you going to let him haveyou?"

"Madge, you are talking most dreadful nonsense. You never were afraidof anybody in your life; and of him least of all."

"Fact, though," said Madge, beginning at her bonnet again. "It's theway his head is set on his shoulders, I suppose. If I had known whatwas happening, while I was listening to Mme. Cisco's screeching!" —

"You couldn't have helped it."

"And now, now, actually you belong to somebody else! Lois, when are yougoing to be married?"

"I don't know."

"Not for a great while? Not soon, at any rate?"

"I don't know. Mr. Dillwyn wishes – "

"And are you going to do everything he wishes?"

"As far as I can," said Lois, with again a rosy smile and glance.

"There's the call to luncheon!" said Madge. "People must eat, ifthey're ever so happy or ever so unhappy. It is one of the disgustingthings about human nature. I just wish he wasn't going to be here.Well – come along!"

Madge went ahead till she reached the drawing-room door; there shesuddenly paused, waved herself to one side, and let Lois go in beforeher. Lois was promptly wrapped in Mrs. Wishart's arms, and had toendure a most warm and heartfelt embracing and congratulating. The ladywas delighted. Meanwhile Madge found herself shaking hands with Philip.

"You know all about it?" he said, looking hard at her, and holding herhand fast.

"If you mean what Lois has told me – "

"Are not you going to wish me joy?"

"There is no occasion – for anybody who has got Lois," said Madge. Andthen she choked, pulled her hand away, and broke down. And when Loisgot free from Mrs. Wishart, she saw Madge sitting with her head in herhands, and Mr. Dillwyn bending over her. Lois came swiftly behind andput both arms softly around her sister.

"It's no use!" said Madge, sobbing and yet defiant. "He has got you, and I haven't got you any longer. Let me alone – I am not going to be afool, but to be asked to wish him joy is too much." And she broke awayand ran off.

Lois could have followed her with all her heart; but she had herselfhabitually under better control than Madge, and knew with fine instinctwhat was due to others. Her eyes glistened; nevertheless her bearingwas quiet and undisturbed; and a second time to-day Mr. Dillwyn wascharmed with the grace of her manner. I must add that Madge presentlymade her appearance again, and was soon as gay as usual; herlucubrations even going so far before the end of luncheon as to wonderwhere Lois would hold her wedding. Will she fetch all the folks downhere? thought Madge. Or will everybody go to Shampuashuh?

With the decision, however, the reader need not be troubled.

CHAPTER XLIX

ON THE PASS

Only one incident more need be told. It is the last point in my story.

The intermediate days and months must be passed over, and we skip theinterval to the summer and June. It is now the middle of June. Mr.Dillwyn's programme had been successfully carried out; and, after aneasy and most festive journey from England, through France, he and Loishad come by gentle stages to Switzerland. A festive journey, yes; butthe expression regards the mental progress rather than the apparent.Mr. Dillwyn, being an old traveller, took things with the calm habit ofuse and wont; and Lois, new as all was to her, made no more fussydemonstration than he did. All the more delicious to him, andsatisfactory, were the sparkles in her eyes and the flushes on hercheeks, which constantly witnessed to her pure delight or interest insomething. All the more happily he felt the grasp of her hand sometimeswhen she did not speak; or listened to the low accents of rapture whenshe saw something that deserved them; or to her merry soft laugh atsomething that touched her sense of fun. For he found Lois had a greatsense of fun. She was altogether of the most buoyant, happy, andenjoying nature possible. No one could be a better traveller. Sheignored discomforts (truly there had not been much in that line), andshe laughed at disappointments; and travellers must meetdisappointments now and then. So Mr. Dillwyn had found the journeygiving him all he had promised himself; and to Lois it gave – wellLois's dreams had never promised her the quarter.