Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life. Ann S. Stephens

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СКАЧАТЬ richest corner of the flower-garden and a slope of the lawn. The wind swept pleasantly over the balcony, in which pots of rose geraniums and heliotrope had been placed. Mrs. Lee loved the breath of these flowers, and sighed faintly as it floated over her with the fresh morning air.

      She lay some time in this pleasant position without speaking. When she was disposed to be thoughtful, we seldom disturbed her, for so sensitive had disease rendered her nerves, that the sudden sound of a voice would make her start and tremble like a criminal. So I kept my place behind the couch, looking down into the garden, and thinking of many things.

      All at once, sweet, dear voices rose from among the flowers, and I saw our Jessie and the widow Dennison turning a corner of the house, each with an arm around the other's waist, laughing and chatting together. Jessie had not changed her dress, but a cluster of crimson roses glowed in her hair, and coral bracelets tinted the transparency of her sleeves. The sun touched the black braid which surrounded her head as she came out of the shadow, and no raven's plumage was ever more glossy.

      Mrs. Dennison was strangely attired. The period of which I speak was about the time the Zouave jacket took its brief picturesque reign. This woman was, in a degree, her own inventor of fashions, and something very similar to this jacket fell over the loose habit-skirt that draped her bosom and arms. This garment of black silk, richly braided, matched the rustling skirt of her dress, and the Oriental design of the whole was completed by a net of blue and gold, which shaded half her rich brown hair, and fell in tassels to her left shoulder.

      In my whole life I never saw a more striking contrast than these two persons presented. I cannot tell you where it lay. Not in the superiority which the widow possessed in height—not in her elaborate grace. Jessie was a little above the medium height herself, and a more elegant creature did not live. But there was something which struck you at once. It is of no use attempting to define it. The difference was to be imagined, not explained. The mother felt it, I am certain, for her eyes took a strange, anxious lustre as they fell on those two young persons, and she began to breathe irregularly, as if something oppressed her.

      She looked up to me at last to see if I was watching them. I smiled and said, "At any rate, she is a splendid creature."

      "No one can dispute that! But our Jessie! Do you know, as I was looking at them, something came across me. Through the hazy light which settled around me, I saw a bird with its wings outspread flitting in the folds of a serpent? The picture passed through my brain one instant, and was gone—gone before Jessie, who had stooped to gather something, regained her position. This has happened before in my life—what can it be?"

      "You are anxious and nervous, dear lady, that is all. Since your visit to the sea-side, these strange visions have become more common."

      "I hope they will pass off," she murmured, pressing a pale hand over her eyes. "But there was another in the group; behind Jessie's frightened face, I saw that of Mr. Lee."

      While she was speaking, I saw Mr. Lee come out of the hall-door, and cross the platform which led to the garden, where his daughter and her guest were walking. He was a handsome man, still in the very prime of life, one of the most distinguished persons that I ever saw. It was from him that our Jessie had inherited her queenly pride, which the exquisite sensibility of the mother's nature had softened into grace.

      Mrs. Lee closed her eyes, and I saw her lips turn pale; but she repulsed my approach with a motion of the hand. I have no idea what she had seen which escaped me. But when I looked again, Mr. Lee was talking with his daughter; while the widow stood by, grouping some flowers which she held coquettishly in her hand. I saw Mr. Lee look at her, indifferently at first, then with smiling interest. They were evidently talking of her graceful work, for she held it up for both father and daughter to admire.

      As Jessie lifted her eyes, she saw us near the window, and, forgetting the bouquet, waved a kiss to her mother. That instant I saw the widow press the bouquet lightly to her lips.

      Mr. Lee reached forth his hand; but she shook her head, laughed, and placed the flowers in her bosom.

      Mrs. Lee was not in a position to see this. I stood up and had a better view; but she instantly complained of dizziness, and faint spasms of pain contracted her forehead.

      I had seen nothing, absolutely nothing. Yet the glances of that woman, as she looked at Mr. Lee over the cluster of flowers, seemed absolutely like wafting kisses with her eyes. Jessie saw nothing, save that the little cluster of blossoms somehow found its way into her friend's bosom. So, in her sweet unconsciousness, she passed on, and was lost on the other side of the tower.

CHAPTER X.

       NEW VISITORS.

       Table of Contents

      Mrs. Lee never went down to dinner, or, if she did, it was so rarely that we looked upon her presence as a sort of holiday. She was very dainty in her appetite, and on ordinary occasions was served by her own maid, or of late by Lottie. I think she had rather intended to come down that day in honor of our guest, but the illness that seized upon her drove this idea from her mind; so, leaving her with Lottie, I went away restless and unaccountably unhappy.

      How bright and blooming they came in from the garden, bringing its fragrance with them to the dinner-table! What a joyous, piquant conversation it was, that commenced with the soup and sparkled with the wine! There is no disputing it, our guest was a wonderful creature, her graceful wit sparkled, her sentiment fascinated. She was calculated to keep the man her beauty should win—no doubt of that. Her conversation charmed even me.

      Jessie was constantly challenging admiration for her friend—interrogating me with her eyes, and looking at her father to be sure that he fully appreciated the brilliancy which filled her own heart with a sort of adoration. But the widow seemed quite unconscious that she was an object of special admiration to any one. Nothing could be more natural than her manner. At times she was really child-like.

      Still I did not like her. Why, it is useless to ask. Perhaps Mrs. Lee had left an impression of her strange fancies on my mind—perhaps the atmosphere which surrounded her mingled with the subtile vitality of my intelligence and gave me the truth.

      We had music in the evening. Our Jessie possessed the purest of soprano voices. Many a celebrated prima donna has won laurels from inferior capacity. As in all other things, her musical education had been perfect. Mrs. Dennison was her inferior in this. She performed splendidly, and her rich contralto voice possessed many fine qualities; but our birdie swept far above her, and soared away upon an ocean of harmonies that seemed born of heaven.

      The windows were open, and we knew that this heaven of sweet sounds would float to the invalid's chamber. Indeed, when I went out upon the platform, back of the house, I saw Mrs. Lee lying in her white, loose dress, on the couch, as if the music had lulled her to sleep.

      I think Mrs. Dennison was not quite satisfied with herself. The glorious voice of our Jessie seemed to take her by surprise, for after the first trial she refused to sing again, but still kept the piano, and dashed through some fine opera music with spirit. Was she exhausting her ill-humor in those stormy sounds?

      On the next day, our young ladies rode on horseback. Both were superb equestrians; and Mr. Lee's stately management of his coal-black horse was something worth looking at. As they dashed round a curve of the road, Jessie turned on her saddle and waved me a kiss, where I stood on the square balcony watching them. What a happy, bright creature she looked!

      It took me by surprise; but when СКАЧАТЬ