On the Church Steps | Page 9

was
as joyous and frank as her sunniest self. No exaggeration of laughter or
fun, but the brightness of her every-day manner, teasing and sparkling
round Aunt Sloman, coquetting very naturally with me. It was a swift
change from the gloomy atmosphere we had left behind in the parlor,
and I basked in it delighted, and feeling, poor fool! that the storm was
cleared away, and that the time for the singing of birds was come.
I was the more deceived. I did not know all of Bessie yet. Her horror of
a scene, of any suspicion that there was discord between us, and her
rare self-control, that for the moment put aside all trouble, folded it out
of sight and took up the serene old life again for a little space.
"Aunt Maria," said Bessie, pushing aside her chair, "won't you take
care of Mr. Munro for a little while? I have a letter to write that I want
him to take to New York."
Aunt Maria would be happy to entertain me, or rather to have me
entertain her. If I would read to her, now, would I be so kind, while she
washed up her breakfast cups?
How people can do two things at once I am sure I cannot understand;
and while the maid brought in the large wooden bowl, the steam of
whose household incense rose high in the air, I watched impatient for
the signal to begin. When the tea-cups were all collected, and Aunt
Sloman held one by the handle daintily over the "boiling flood,"
"Now," she said with a serene inclination of her head, "if you please."
And off I started at a foot-pace through the magazine that had been put
into my hands. Whether it was anything about the "Skelligs," or "Miss

Sedgwick's Letters," or "Stanley-Livingstone," I have not the remotest
idea. I was fascinated by the gentle dip of each tea-cup, and watched
from the corner of my eye the process of polishing each glittering
spoon on a comfortable crash towel.
Then my thoughts darted off to Bessie. Was she indeed writing to her
old trustee? Judge Hubbard was a friend of my father's, and would
approve of me, I thought, if he did not agree at once to the hurried
marriage and ocean journey.
"What an unconscionable time it takes her! Don't you think so, Mrs.
Sloman?" I said at last, after I had gone through three several papers on
subjects unknown.
I suppose it was scarcely a courteous speech. But Mrs. Sloman smiled a
white-lipped smile of sympathy, and said, "Yes: I will go and send her
to you."
"Oh, don't hurry her," I said falsely, hoping, however, that she would.
Did I say before that Bessie was tall? Though so slight that you always
wanted to speak of her with some endearing diminutive, she looked
taller than ever that morning; and as she stood before me, coming up to
the fireplace where I was standing, her eyes looked nearly level into
mine. I did not understand their veiled expression, and before I had
time to study it she dropped them and said hastily, "Young man, I am
pining for a walk."
"In the rain?"
"Pshaw! This is nothing, after all, but a Scotch mist. See, I am dressed
for it;" and she threw a tartan cloak over her shoulder--a blue-and-green
tartan that I had never seen before.
"The very thing for shipboard," I whispered as I looked at her
admiringly.
Her face was flushed enough now, but she made no answer save to

stoop down and pat the silly little terrier that had come trotting into the
room with her.
"Fidget shall go--yes, he shall go walking;" and Fidget made a gray ball
of himself in his joy at the permission.
Up the hill again we walked, with the little Skye terrier cantering in
advance or madly chasing the chickens across the road.
"Did you finish your letter satisfactorily?" I asked, for I was fretting
with impatience to know its contents.
"Yes. I will give it to you when you leave to-night."
"Shall we say next Saturday, Bessie?" said I, resolving to plunge at
once into the sea of our late argument.
"For what? For you to come again? Don't you always come on
Saturday?"
"Yes, but this time I mean to carry you away."
A dead pause, which I improved by drawing her hand under my arm
and imprisoning her little gray glove with my other hand. As she did
not speak, I went on fatuously: "You don't need any preparation of
gowns and shawls; you can buy your trousseau in London, if need be;
and we'll settle on the ship, coming over, how and where we are to live
in New York."
"You think, then, that I