Was It Right to Forgive? by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (classic book list txt) 📕

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The evening was brightened by Antony's metamorphosis into a man of fashion. His late frequent visits to New York were explained when he rather consciously came into the sitting-room. He was in full dress, and looked remarkably handsome; and Peter felt very proud of his son. It is a humbling thing to confess that he had never had such a quick, positive pride in him before. The potent and mysterious power of dress, and of a fine personal presence, jumped to his eyes, and appealed to his heart, with a promptitude Antony's bravest and most unselfish deeds had never effected. He stood up and looked at his son with a kindling pleasure in his face; and when Yanna sent him off with prodigal compliments, he privately endorsed every one of them.

True, he afterwards took himself to task for his vanity; and with expansive bluntness, told Yanna that her brother was just as fine a fellow in homespun as in broadcloth; but the broadcloth image remained with him, and he could not help some very pertinent private reflections on the value of culture and good society, as exemplified in his own family.

Yanna did not sleep much. All night long she heard the voices and the carriages of the people going to or coming from the ball; and the solemn stillness of the early morning was offended by their vacant laughter, or noisy chattering. She was glad to be called from restless and unhappy slumber, to the positive comfort of daylight and day's work. But she did not see Antony again until the dinner hour. He was then in high spirits, and quite inclined to talk of the entertainment. "It was very like the Van Praaghs' and the Gilberts' affair," he said. "The same people were there, and I think they wore the same dresses--white and fussy, and flary, flowery things, you know, Yanna. But Rose Filmer was unlike every other woman."

"Was she handsome? Well dressed? In good spirits? Kind? and in all her other best moods?"

"Yanna, she was in every way perfection. Her dress was wonderful. And, oh! the lift of her head, and the curl of her lip, and her step like a queen's! She was charming! She was sweet, oh, so sweet!"

Yanna smiled at his enthusiastic admiration of her friend, but Peter said nothing until they were alone. Then he turned to his son, and asked: "Antony, are you thinking of falling in love with Miss Filmer?"

"I have been in love with her ever since I first saw her."

"You could not ask a girl like that to be your wife. She has been brought up to luxury; she could not bear poverty."

"I shall not ask her to bear poverty, father. If I had been a poor man I should have gone back west, long ago."

Peter looked inquisitively at his son, and Antony answered his query. "I have said nothing so far about money; because in your house it seemed mean to talk of my riches. I know that you have worked so hard for the competence you possess; and my good fortune has been simple luck. I had a few thousand dollars, and because the care of them troubled me, I made some investments without much consideration. Every one was flushed with success. Then I made others, and again others, and I suppose my very ignorance induced fortune to bring in my ship for me. At any rate, she did steer it into a good harbor."

"I am glad! I am very glad, Antony! But why do you say 'fortune'?"

"Somehow--I did not like to say God--as if He looked after a man's real estate speculations."

"He looks after everything. The silver and the gold are His; the world and the fulness thereof. I have never read, nor yet ever heard tell, that He has grown weary of watching; or that His arm is shortened or weakened, or that He has delegated to fortune, or chance, or fate, or destiny, or any other power, His own work of shaping a man's life. If I did not know this, I should feel as all disbelievers must feel--alone and abandoned in the vast universe."

"In great things, father."

"In everything. Can you tell what things are great, and what things are little? From the most apparently trifling affairs have come wars and revolutions, which have turned the earth upside down, and 'glutted the throat of Hell with ghosts.' God gave you every dollar you have; and to Him you will have to render an account of its usage. Now, as to Miss Filmer. If you have money, I see no reason to fear you will not be acceptable. You are both branches from the same root--though she may be a bit the highest up; and I do think you are as good a man, and as handsome a man, as I know anywhere."

Praise so distinct and unqualified was a rare gift from Peter; and Antony looked into his father's face with grateful pleasure. The old man nodded slightly, as if to reaffirm his opinions, and then continued, "Talk to Mr. Filmer at once. It is the best plan."

"It is too early yet. I must have permission from Rose to go on that message. There is nothing definite between us."

"It is a pity. She goes to the city--into the world--other young men will seek her."

"Good! She must choose freely. I may only have been a country makeshift, and I do not care to be Hobson's choice with any girl. I would rather be left altogether."

"Right. Suppose you ride to Grey's Gate with me? There is a horse for sale there that I would like to buy."

So the two men went away together, and Yanna, sitting sewing at the window, lifted her head as they passed, and gave them a smile like sunshine. "She is a good, brave girl," thought Peter, and for a moment he was tempted to tell Antony about Harry Filmer's proposal. But he thought better of silence than of confidence, and he kept silence. In the end, Harry was sure to do all that was right to the woman he loved; and if the way to that end was shadowed and hard, it would not be mended by their discussing it. Besides, he felt that Yanna would be averse to such a discussion; and again Antony's own confidence with regard to Rose bespoke a caution and reticence concerning affairs in which there were complications it might be unwise to trouble.

In about an hour the Filmer dog-cart came at a rattling speed up the avenue. Rose was driving, and her pace and air indicated to Yanna her reckless high spirits.

"I am so glad to get shelter here, Yanna," she said. "At Filmer they are turning the house outside the windows; there is not a quiet corner to sit in, and think things over. Has Antony told you about the ball?"

"I think you were 'the ball' to Antony. He has named no one else."

"Yanna, he looked splendid last night; just like a hero out of a book. I made up my mind to completely conquer him, and he was so masterful, so not-to-be-gainsaid, or contradicted, that I could not manage him. In fact, he managed me. He made me say that I loved him. I do not know 'how' he did it; but he made me speak; and, the truth is, I liked it."

"Dear Rose, do not go back upon your word. That would be mean and cruel, for I am sure Antony has stayed in Woodsome all this summer only for your sake."

"Suppose he has! That is nothing! If a man wants you to live with him all his life, or all your life, one summer is a very little trial."

"Did you promise to be his wife?"

"Nothing so rapid, my dear. I do not give an inch and a mile in the same hour. I simply admitted that I might--could--would--or should--love him--perhaps. That was as much happiness as he was able to carry. It went to his heart like twenty bottles of champagne to the head. He is a delightful lover, Yanna! He will not take 'No.' You cannot say 'No.' His words are like flame, and you feel that he means every one of them. I have had lovers--oh, yes!--and their polite compliments and placid emotions were to Mr. Antony's eager seeking as the moonshine is to the noonday sunshine."

"Then be fair and true to him."

"Certainly! I intend to be so--in the long run. So we shall be really sisters, Yanna! And we shall not have to learn to love one another. It must be pretty hard on a girl to give up her brother, and learn to love another girl at the same time."

"I never found it hard to love you, Rose. How soon will you give Antony----"

"I have given Antony all I mean to give him for some time. Mamma has made great preparations for me this season, and I intend to take the full benefit of them. It would be an awful disappointment to her if she found out that my heart was not my own. There is a sea of pleasure before me, and I mean to be in the full tide of the swim."

"And if in that 'swim' your foot tips the tangles, take care, dear Rose. You can never tell what depths there are beneath them."

"What do you mean by 'tangles'?"

"I mean unwise or unworthy lovers and companions--too much pleasure in any form--dancing, dressing, flirting, champagne drinking, and things of that kind. You know."

"Champagne drinking! Yes, it is delightful. It makes me feel as if my blood were made of flame. I am half divine after a glass of champagne. But I never take more than one glass. I know better."

"I would not take that one. If a thing is dangerous in large quantity, it is not safe in small quantity. I would not touch it at all."

"I could not induce Antony to taste with me, though I drank from the glass myself."

"Your drinking would only grieve him; it would not tempt him. Did you persuade him to dance?"

"He persuaded me to go into the conservatory with him, instead. I did not really care to dance. It was nicer to listen to Antony. Well, we are going away the day after to-morrow, and then, 'When shall we two meet again?' How soon can you come to New York?"

"It will not be soon, Rose. There are so many things to look after that only I understand. Father is lost without me, especially in the winter. In the summer, he has his garden."

"Where is Antony this afternoon? I expected to find him at home."

"Just before you came, I saw father and Antony drive away in the buggy. Remove your bonnet and cloak, and take tea with us. They are sure to be back by tea-time."

"Thank you for the invitation. I was just going to ask you to ask me. I will stay. It will be dark after tea; but then, Antony can drive me home."

"Antony can drive you home. And you know there will be plenty of moonlight."

"Do you remember that exquisite moonlight night last August, when we sent the carriage home, and you and Harry, and I and Antony, walked together through the woods? The air was full of the resinous odor of the pines, and it was sweeter than a rose garden. And the moonlight was like--I do not know what it was like, Yanna."