Behind A Mask by Louisa May Alcott (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📖

beautifully. It’s quite impossible, of course, but I wish it wasn’t, I do so like to watch lovers. You and Lucia are so cold you are not a bit interesting.”

“You’ll do me a favor if you’ll stop all that nonsense about Lucia and me. We are not lovers, and never shall be, I fancy. At all events, I’m tired of the thing, and wish you and Mamma would let it drop, for the present at least.”

“Oh Gerald, you know Mamma has set her heart upon it, that Papa desired it, and poor Lucia loves you so much. How can you speak of dropping what will make us all so happy?”

“It won’t make me happy, and I take the liberty of thinking that this is of some importance. I’m not bound in any way, and don’t intend to be till I am ready. Now we’ll talk about Ned.”

Much grieved and surprised, Bella obeyed, and devoted herself to Edward, who very wisely submitted to his fate and prepared to leave home for some months. For a week the house was in a state of excitement about his departure, and everyone but Jean was busied for him. She was scarcely seen; every morning she gave Bella her lessons, every afternoon drove out with Mrs. Coventry, and nearly every evening went up to the Hall to read to Sir John, who found his wish granted without exactly knowing how it had been done.

The day Edward left, he came down from bidding his mother good-bye, looking very pale, for he had lingered in his sister’s little room with Miss Muir as long as he dared.

“Good-bye, dear. Be kind to Jean,” he whispered as he kissed his sister.

“I will, I will,” returned Bella, with tearful eyes.

“Take care of Mamma, and remember Lucia,” he said again, as he touched his cousin’s beautiful cheek.

“Fear nothing. I will keep them apart,” she whispered back, and Coventry heard it.

Edward offered his hand to his brother, saying, significantly, as he looked him in the eye, “I trust you, Gerald.”

“You may, Ned.”

Then he went, and Coventry tired himself with wondering what Lucia meant. A few days later he understood.

Now Ned is gone, little Muir will appear, I fancy, he said to himself; but “little Muir” did not appear, and seemed to shun him more carefully than she had done her lover. If he went to the drawing room in the evening hoping for music, Lucia alone was there. If he tapped at Bella’s door, there was always a pause before she opened it, and no sign of Jean appeared though her voice had been audible when he knocked. If he went to the library, a hasty rustle and the sound of flying feet betrayed that the room was deserted at his approach. In the garden Miss Muir never failed to avoid him, and if by chance they met in hall or breakfast room, she passed him with downcast eyes and the briefest, coldest greeting. All this annoyed him intensely, and the more she eluded him, the more he desired to see her—from a spirit of opposition, he said, nothing more. It fretted and yet it entertained him, and he found a lazy sort of pleasure in thwarting the girl’s little maneuvers. His patience gave out at last, and he resolved to know what was the meaning of this peculiar conduct. Having locked and taken away the key of one door in the library, he waited till Miss Muir went in to get a book for his uncle. He had heard her speak to Bella of it, knew that she believed him with his mother, and smiled to himself as he stole after her. She was standing in a chair, reaching up, and he had time to see a slender waist, a pretty foot, before he spoke.

“Can I help you, Miss Muir?”

She started, dropped several books, and turned scarlet, as she said hurriedly, “Thank you, no; I can get the steps.”

“My long arm will be less trouble. I’ve got but one, and that is tired of being idle, so it is very much at your service. What will you have?”

“I—I—you startled me so I’ve forgotten.” And Jean laughed, nervously, as she looked about her as if planning to escape.

“I beg your pardon, wait till you remember, and let me thank you for the enchanted sleep you gave me ten days ago. I’ve had no chance yet, you’ve shunned me so pertinaciously.”

“Indeed I try not to be rude, but—” She checked herself, and turned her face away, adding, with an accent of pain in her voice, “It is not my fault, Mr. Coventry. I only obey orders.”

“Whose orders?” he demanded, still standing so that she could not escape.

“Don’t ask; it is one who has a right to command where you are concerned. Be sure that it is kindly meant, though it may seem folly to us. Nay, don’t be angry, laugh at it, as I do, and let me run away, please.”

She turned, and looked down at him with tears in her eyes, a smile on her lips, and an expression half sad, half arch, which was altogether charming. The frown passed from his face, but he still looked grave and said decidedly, “No one has a right to command in this house but my mother or myself. Was it she who bade you avoid me as if I was a madman or a pest?”

“Ah, don’t ask. I promised not to tell, and you would not have me break my word, I know.” And still smiling, she regarded him with a look of merry malice which made any other reply unnecessary. It was Lucia, he thought, and disliked his cousin intensely just then. Miss Muir moved as if to step down; he detained her, saying earnestly, yet with a smile, “Do you consider me the master here?”

“Yes,” and to the word she gave a sweet, submissive intonation which made it expressive of the respect, regard, and confidence which men find pleasantest when women feel and show it. Unconsciously his face softened, and he looked up at her with a different glance from any he had ever given her before.

“Well, then, will you consent to obey me if I am not tyrannical or unreasonable in my demands?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good! Now frankly, I want to say that all this sort of thing is very disagreeable to me. It annoys me to be a restraint upon anyone’s liberty or comfort, and I beg you will go and come as freely as you like, and not mind Lucia’s absurdities. She means well, but hasn’t a particle of penetration or tact. Will you promise this?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It is better as it is, perhaps.”

“But you called it folly just now.”

“Yes, it seems so, and yet—” She paused, looking both confused and distressed.

Coventry lost patience, and said hastily, “You women are such enigmas I never expect to understand you! Well, I’ve done my best to make you comfortable, but if you prefer to lead this sort of life, I beg you will do so.”

“I don’t prefer it; it is hateful to me. I like to be myself, to have my liberty, and the confidence of those about me. But I cannot think it kind to disturb the peace of anyone, and so I try to obey. I’ve promised Bella to remain, but I will go rather than have another scene with Miss Beaufort or with you.”

Miss Muir had burst out impetuously, and stood there with a sudden fire in her eyes, sudden warmth and spirit in her face and voice that amazed Coventry. She was angry, hurt, and haughty, and the change only made her more attractive, for not a trace of her former meek self remained. Coventry was electrified, and still more surprised when she added, imperiously, with a gesture as if to put him aside, “Hand me that book and move away. I wish to go.”

He obeyed, even offered his hand, but she refused it, stepped lightly down, and went to the door. There she turned, and with the same indignant voice, the same kindling eyes and glowing cheeks, she said rapidly, “I know I have no right to speak in this way. I restrain myself as long as I can, but when I can bear no more, my true self breaks loose, and I defy everything. I am tired of being a cold, calm machine; it is impossible with an ardent nature like mine, and I shall try no longer. I cannot help it if people love me. I don’t want their love. I only ask to be left in peace, and why I am tormented so I cannot see. I’ve neither beauty, money, nor rank, yet every foolish boy mistakes my frank interest for something warmer, and makes me miserable. It is my misfortune. Think of me what you will, but beware of me in time, for against my will I may do you harm.”

Almost fiercely she had spoken, and with a warning gesture she hurried from the room, leaving the young man feeling as if a sudden thunder-gust had swept through the house. For several minutes he sat in the chair she left, thinking deeply. Suddenly he rose, went to his sister, and said, in his usual tone of indolent good nature, “Bella, didn’t I hear Ned ask you to be kind to Miss Muir?”

“Yes, and I try to be, but she is so odd lately.”

“Odd! How do you mean?”

“Why, she is either as calm and cold as a statue, or restless and queer; she cries at night, I know, and sighs sadly when she thinks I don’t hear. Something is the matter.”

“She frets for Ned perhaps,” began Coventry.

“Oh dear, no; it’s a great relief to her that he is gone. I’m afraid that she likes someone very much, and someone don’t like her. Can it be Mr. Sydney?”

“She called him a ‘titled fool’ once, but perhaps that didn’t mean anything. Did you ever ask her about him?” said Coventry, feeling rather ashamed of his curiosity, yet unable to resist the temptation of questioning unsuspecting Bella.

“Yes, but she only looked at me in her tragical way, and said, so pitifully, ‘My little friend, I hope you will never have to pass through the scenes I’ve passed through, but keep your peace unbroken all your life.’ After that I dared say no more. I’m very fond of her, I want to make her happy, but I don’t know how. Can you propose anything?”

“I was going to propose that you make her come among us more, now Ned is gone. It must be dull for her, moping about alone. I’m sure it is for me. She is an entertaining little person, and I enjoy her music very much. It’s good for Mamma to have gay evenings; so you bestir yourself, and see what you can do for the general good of the family.”

“That’s all very charming, and I’ve proposed it more than once, but Lucia spoils all my plans. She is afraid you’ll follow Ned’s example, and that is so silly.”

“Lucia is a—no, I won’t say fool, because she has sense enough when she chooses; but I wish you’d just settle things with Mamma, and then Lucia can do nothing but submit,” said Gerald angrily.

“I’ll try, but she goes up to read to Uncle, you know, and since he has had the gout, she stays later, so I see little of her in the evening. There she goes now. I think she will captivate the old one as well as the young one, she is so devoted.”

Coventry looked after her slender black figure, just vanishing through the great gate, and an uncomfortable fancy took possession of him, born of Bella’s