Chapter XIV. Nipped in the Bud

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter XIV. Nipped in the BudOn the evening of Fan's visit, Polly sat down before her fire with aresolute and thoughtful aspect. She pulled her hair down, turnedher skirt back, put her feet on the fender, and took Puttel into herlap, all of which arrangements signified that something veryimportant had got to be thought over and settled. Polly did notsoliloquize aloud, as heroines on the stage and in books have away of doing, but the conversation she held with herself was verymuch like this: "I'm afraid there is something in it. I've tried tothink it's nothing but vanity or imagination, yet I can't help seeinga difference, and feeling as if I ought not to pretend that I don't. Iknow it's considered proper for girls to shut their eyes and letthings come to a crisis no matter how much mischief is done. But Idon't think it's doing as we'd be done by, and it seems a great dealmore honest to show a man that you don't love him before he hasentirely lost his heart. The girls laughed at me when I said so, andthey declared that it would be a very improper thing to do, but I'veobserved that they don't hesitate to snub'ineligible parties,' as theycall poor, very young, or unpopular men. It's all right then, butwhen a nice person comes it's part of the fun to let him go on tothe very end, whether the girls care for him or not. The moreproposals, the more credit. Fan says Trix always asks when shecomes home after the summer excursions,'How many birds haveyou bagged?' as if men were partridges. What wicked creatures weare! some of us at least. I wonder why such a love of conquest wasput into us? Mother says a great deal of it is owing to badeducation nowadays, but some girls seem born for the expresspurpose of making trouble and would manage to do it if they livedin a howling wilderness. I'm afraid I've got a spice of it, and if Ihad the chance, should be as bad as any of them. I've tried it andliked it, and maybe this is the consequence of that night's fun."Here Polly leaned back and looked up at the little mirror over thechimney-piece, which was hung so that it reflected the faces ofthose about the fire. In it Polly saw a pair of telltale eyes lookingout from a tangle of bright brown hair, cheeks that flushed anddimpled suddenly as the fresh mouth smiled with an expression ofconscious power, half proud, half ashamed, and as pretty to see asthe coquettish gesture with which she smoothed back her curls andflourished a white hand. For a minute she regarded the pleasantpicture while visions of girlish romances and triumphs dancedthrough her head, then she shook her hair all over her face andpushed her chair out of range of the mirror, saying, with a drollmixture of self-reproach and self-approval in her tone; "Oh,Puttel, Puttel, what a fool I am!"Puss appeared to endorse the sentiment by a loud purr and agraceful wave of her tail, and Polly returned to the subject fromwhich these little vanities had beguiled her."Just suppose it is true, that he does ask me, and I say yes! What astir it would make, and what fun it would be to see the faces of thegirls when it came out! They all think a great deal of him becausehe is so hard to please, and almost any of them would feelimmensely flattered if he liked them, whether they chose to marryhim or not. Trix has tried for years to fascinate him, and he can'tbear her, and I'm so glad! What a spiteful thing I am. Well, I can'thelp it, she does aggravate me so!" And Polly gave the cat such atweak of the ear that Puttel bounced out of her lap in highdudgeon."It don't do to think of her, and I won't!" said Polly to herself,setting her lips with a grim look that was not at all becoming."What an easy life I should have plenty of money, quantities offriends, all sorts of pleasures, and no work, no poverty, no coldshoulders or patched boots. I could do so much for all at homehow I should enjoy that!" And Polly let her thoughts revel in theluxurious future her fancy painted. It was a very bright picture, butsomething seemed amiss with it, for presently she sighed andshook her head, thinking sorrowfully, "Ah, but I don't love him,and I'm afraid I never can as I ought! He's very good, andgenerous, and wise, and would be kind, I know, but somehow Ican't imagine spending my life with him; I'm so afraid I should gettired of him, and then what should I do? Polly Sydney don't soundwell, and Mrs. Arthur Sydney don't seem to fit me a bit. Wonderhow it would seem to call him'Arthur'?" And Polly said it underher breath, with a look over her shoulder to be sure no one heard it."It's a pretty name, but rather too fine, and I should n't dare to say'Syd,' as his sister does. I like short, plain, home-like names, suchas Will, Ned, or Tom. No, no, I can never care for him, and it's nouse to try!" The exclamation broke from Polly as if a suddentrouble had seized her, and laying her head down on her knees, shesat motionless for many minutes.When she looked up, her face wore an expression which no onehad ever seen on it before; a look of mingled pain and patience, asif some loss had come to her, and left the bitterness of regretbehind."I won't think of myself, or try to mend one mistake by makinganother," she said with a heavy sigh. "I'll do what I can for Fan,and not stand between her and a chance of happiness. Let me see,how can I begin? I won't walk with him any more; I'll dodge andgo roundabout ways, so that we can't meet. I never had much faithin the remarkable coincidence of his always happening home todinner just as I go to give the Roths their lesson. The fact is, I liketo meet him, I am glad to be seen with him, and put on airs, I daresay, like a vain goose as I am. Well, I won't do it any more, andthat will spare Fan one affliction. Poor dear, how I must haveworried her all this time, and never guessed it. She has n't beenquite as kind as ever; but when she got sharp, I fancied it wasdyspepsia. Oh, me! I wish the other trouble could be cured aseasily as this."Here puss showed an amiable desire to forgive and forget, andPolly took her up, saying aloud: "Puttel, when missis abuses you,play it's dyspepsia, and don't bear malice, because it's a verytrying disease, my dear."Then, going back to her thoughts, she rambled on again; "If hedoes n't take that hint, I will give him a stronger one, for I will nothave matters come to a crisis, though I can't deny that my wickedvanity strongly tempts me to try and'bag a bird' just for theexcitement and credit of the thing. Polly, I'm ashamed of you!What would your blessed mother say to hear such expressionsfrom you? I'd write and tell her all the worry, only it would n't doany good, and would only trouble her. I've no right to tell Fan'ssecrets, and I'm ashamed to tell mine. No, I'll leave mother inpeace, and fight it out alone. I do think Fan would suit himexcellently by and by. He has known her all her life, and has agood influence over her. Love would do so much toward makingher what she might be; it's a shame to have the chance lost justbecause he happens to see me. I should think she'd hate me; but I'll show her that she need n't, and do all I can to help her; for shehas been so good to me nothing shall ever make me forget that. Itis a delicate and dangerous task, but I guess I can manage it; at anyrate I'll try, and have nothing to reproach myself with if things dogo'contrary.' "What Polly thought of, as she lay back in her chair, with her eyesshut, and a hopeless look on her face, is none of our business,though we might feel a wish to know what caused a tear to gatherslowly from time to time under her lashes, and roll down onPuttel's Quaker-colored coat. Was it regret for the conquest sherelinquished, was it sympathy for her friend, or was it anuncontrollable overflow of feeling as she read some sad or tenderpassage of the little romance which she kept hidden away in herown heart?On Monday, Polly began the "delicate and dangerous task." Insteadof going to her pupils by way of the park and the pleasant streetsadjoining, she took a roundabout route through back streets, andthus escaped Mr. Sydney, who, as usual, came home to dinner veryearly that day and looked disappointed because he nowhere sawthe bright face in the modest bonnet. Polly kept this up for a week,and by carefully avoiding the Shaws' house during calling hours,she saw nothing of Mr. Sydney, who, of course, did n't visit her atMiss Mills'. Minnie happened to be poorly that week and took nolesson, so Uncle Syd was deprived of his last hope, and looked asif his allowance of sunshine had been suddenly cut off.Now, as Polly was by no means a perfect creature, I am free toconfess that the old temptation assailed her more than once thatweek, for, when the first excitement of the dodging reform hadsubsided, she missed the pleasant little interviews that used to puta certain flavor of romance into her dull, hard-working days. Sheliked Mr. Sydney very much, for he had always been kind andfriendly since the early times when he had treated the little girlwith a courtesy which the young woman gratefully remembered. Idon't think it was his wealth, accomplishments, or position thatmost attracted Polly, though these doubtless possessed a greaterinfluence than she suspected. It was that indescribable somethingwhich women are quick to see and feel in men who have beenblessed with wise and good mothers. This had an especial charm toPolly, for she soon found that this side of his character was notshown to every one. With most girls, he was very like the otheryoung men of his set, except perhaps in a certain grace of mannerwhich was as natural to him as his respect for all womankind. Butwith Fanny and Polly he showed the domestic traits and virtueswhich are more engaging to womanly women than any amount ofcool intellect or worldly wisdom.Polly had seen a good deal of him during her visits at the Shaws',where he was intimate, owing to the friendship between Madamand his mother; but she had never thought of him as a possiblelover for either Fanny or herself because he was six or eight yearsolder than they, and still sometimes assumed the part of avenerable mentor, as in the early days. Lately this had changed,especially towards Polly, and it flattered her more than she wouldconfess even to herself. She knew he admired her one talent,respected her independence, and enjoyed her society; but whensomething warmer and more flattering than admiration, respect, orpleasure crept into his manner, she could not help seeing that oneof the good gifts of this life was daily coming more and morewithin her reach, and began to ask herself if she could honestlyreceive the gift, and reward the giver.At first she tried to think she could, but unfortunately hearts are so"contrary" that they won't be obedient to reason, will, or evengratitude. Polly felt a very cordial friendship for Mr. Sydney, butnot one particle of the love which is the only coin in which lovecan be truly paid. Then she took a fancy into her head that sheought to accept this piece of good fortune for the sake of thefamily, and forget herself. But this false idea of self-sacrifice didnot satisfy, for she was not a fashionable girl trained to believe thather first duty was to make "a good match" and never mind theconsequences, though they rendered her miserable for life. Polly'screed was very simple: "If I don't love him, I ought not to marryhim, especially when I do love somebody else, though everythingis against me." If she had read as many French novels as someyoung ladies, she might have considered it interesting to marryunder the circumstances and suffer a secret anguish to make her aromantic victim. But Polly's education had been neglected, andafter a good deal of natural indecision she did what most womendo in such cases, thought she would "wait and see."The discovery of Fanny's secret seemed to show her something todo, for if the "wait and see" decision was making her friendunhappy, it must be changed as soon as possible. This finishedPolly's indecision, and after that night she never allowed herself todwell upon the pleasant temptation which came in a guiseparticularly attractive to a young girl with a spice of the old Eve inher composition. So day after day she trudged through the dullback streets, longing for the sunny park, the face that alwaysbrightened when it saw her coming, and most of all the chance ofmeeting well, it was n't Trix.When Saturday came, Polly started as usual for a visit to Beckyand Bess, but could n't resist stopping at the Shaws' to leave a littleparcel for Fan, though it was calling time. As she stepped in,meaning to run up for a word if Fanny should chance to be alone,two hats on the hall table arrested her."Who is here, Katy?""Only Mr. Sydney and Master Tom. Won't you stop a bit, MissPolly?""Not this morning, I'm rather in a hurry." And away went Polly asif a dozen eager pupils were clamoring for her presence. But as thedoor shut behind her she felt so left out in the cold, that her eyesfilled, and when Nep, Tom's great Newfoundland, cameblundering after her, she stopped and hugged his shaggy head,saying softly, as she looked into the brown, benevolent eyes, full ofalmost human sympathy: "Now, go back, old dear, you must n'tfollow me. Oh, Nep, it's so hard to put love away when you wantit very much and it is n't right to take it." A foolish little speech tomake to a dog, but you see Polly was only a tender-hearted girl,trying to do her duty."Since he is safe with Fanny, I may venture to walk where I like. It's such a lovely day, all the babies will be out, and it always doesme good to see them," thought Polly, turning into the wide, sunnystreet, where West End-dom promenaded at that hour.The babies were out in full force, looking as gay and delicate andsweet as the snow-drops, hyacinths, and daffodils on the bankswhence the snow had melted. But somehow the babies did n't doPolly the good she expected, though they smiled at her from theircarriages, and kissed their chubby hands as she passed them, forPolly had the sort of face that babies love. One tiny creature inblue plush was casting despairing glances after a very small lord ofcreation who was walking away with a toddling belle in white,while a second young gentleman in gorgeous purple gaiters wasendeavoring to console the deserted damsel."Take hold of Master Charley's hand, Miss Mamie, and walkpretty, like Willy and Flossy," said the maid."No, no, I want to do wid Willy, and he won't let me. Do'way,Tarley, I don't lite you," cried little Blue-bonnet, casting down herermine muff and sobbing in a microscopic handkerchief, thethread-lace edging on which could n't mitigate her woe, as it mighthave done that of an older sufferer."Willy likes Flossy best, so stop crying and come right along, younaughty child."As poor little Dido was jerked away by the unsympathetic maid,and Purple-gaiters essayed in vain to plead his cause, Polly said toherself, with a smile and a sigh; "How early the old story begins!"It seemed as if the spring weather had brought out all manner oftender things beside fresh grass and the first dandelions, for as shewent down the street Polly kept seeing different phases of thesweet old story which she was trying to forget.At a street corner, a black-eyed school-boy was parting from arosy-faced school-girl, whose music roll he was reluctantlysurrendering."Don't you forget, now," said the boy, looking bashfully into thebright eyes that danced with pleasure as the girl blushed andsmiled, and answered reproachfully; "Why, of course I shan't!""That little romance runs smoothly so far; I hope it may to theend," said Polly heartily as she watched the lad tramp away,whistling as blithely as if his pleasurable emotions must find avent, or endanger the buttons on the round jacket; while the girlpranced on her own doorstep, as if practising for the joyful dancewhich she had promised not to forget.A little farther on Polly passed a newly engaged couple whom sheknew, walking arm in arm for the first time, both wearing thatproud yet conscious look which is so delightful to behold upon thecountenances of these temporarily glorified beings."How happy they seem; oh, dear!" said Polly, and trudged on,wondering if her turn would ever come and fearing that it wasimpossible.A glimpse of a motherly-looking lady entering a door, received bya flock of pretty children, who cast themselves upon mamma andher parcels with cries of rapture, did Polly good; and when, aminute after she passed a gray old couple walking placidlytogether in the sunshine, she felt better still, and was glad to seesuch a happy ending to the romance she had read all down thestreet.As if the mischievous little god wished to take Polly at adisadvantage, or perhaps to give her another chance, just at thatinstant Mr. Sydney appeared at her side. How he got there wasnever very clear to Polly, but there he was, flushed, and a little outof breath, but looking so glad to see her that she had n't the heart tobe stiff and cool, as she had fully intended to be when they met."Very warm, is n't it?" he said when he had shaken hands andfallen into step, just in the old way."You seem to find it so." And Polly laughed, with a sudden sparklein her eyes. She really could n't help it, it was so pleasant to seehim again, just when she was feeling so lonely."Have you given up teaching the Roths?" asked Sydney, changingthe subject."No.""Do you go as usual?""Yes.""Well, it's a mystery to me how you get there.""As much as it is to me how you got here so suddenly.""I saw you from the Shaws' window and took the liberty of runningafter you by the back street," he said, laughing."That is the way I get to the Roths," answered Polly. She did notmean to tell, but his frankness was so agreeable she forgot herself."It's not nearly so pleasant or so short for you as the park.""I know it, but people sometimes get tired of old ways and like totry new ones."Polly did n't say that quite naturally, and Sydney gave her a quicklook, as he asked; "Do you get tired of old friends, too, MissPolly?""Not often; but " And there she stuck, for the fear of beingungrateful or unkind made her almost hope that he would n't takethe hint which she had been carefully preparing for him.There was a dreadful little pause, which Polly broke by sayingabruptly; "How is Fan?""Dashing, as ever. Do you know I'm rather disappointed in Fanny,for she don't seem to improve with her years," said Sydney, as if heaccepted the diversion and was glad of it."Ah, you never see her at her best. She puts on that dashing airbefore people to hide her real self. But I know her better; and Iassure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults,though she won't own it, and will surprise you some day, by theamount of heart and sense and goodness she has got."Polly spoke heartily now, and Sydney looked at her as if Fanny'sdefender pleased him more than Fanny's defence."I'm very glad to hear it, and willingly take your word for it.Everybody shows you their good side, I think, and that is why youfind the world such a pleasant place.""Oh, but I don't! It often seems like a very hard and dismal place,and I croak over my trials like an ungrateful raven.""Can't we make the trials lighter for you?"The voice that put the question was so very kind, that Polly darednot look up, because she knew what the eyes were silently saying."Thank you, no. I don't get more tribulation than is good for me, Ifancy, and we are apt to make mistakes when we try to dodgetroubles.""Or people," added Sydney in a tone that made Polly color up toher forehead."How lovely the park looks," she said, in great confusion."Yes, it's the pleasantest walk we have; don't you think so?" askedthe artful young man, laying a trap, into which Polly immediatelyfell."Yes, indeed! It's always so refreshing to me to see a little bit ofthe country, as it were, especially at this season."Oh, Polly, Polly, what a stupid speech to make, when you had justgiven him to understand that you were tired of the park! Not beinga fool or a cox-comb, Sydney put this and that together, and takingvarious trifles into the account, he had by this time come to theconclusion that Polly had heard the same bits of gossip that he had,which linked their names together, that she did n't like it, and triedto show she did n't in this way. He was quicker to take a hint thanshe had expected, and being both proud and generous, resolved tosettle the matter at once, for Polly's sake as well as his own. So,when she made her last brilliant remark, he said quietly, watchingher face keenly all the while; "I thought so; well, I'm going out oftown on business for several weeks, so you can enjoy your'little bitof country' without being annoyed by me.""Annoyed? Oh, no!" cried Polly earnestly; then stopped short, notknowing what to say for herself. She thought she had a good dealof the coquette in her, and I've no doubt that with time andtraining she would have become a very dangerous little person, butnow she was far too transparent and straightforward by nature evento tell a white lie cleverly. Sydney knew this, and liked her for it,but he took advantage of it, nevertheless by asking suddenly;"Honestly, now, would n't you go the old way and enjoy it as muchas ever, if I was n't anywhere about to set the busybodiesgossiping?""Yes," said Polly, before she could stop herself, and then couldhave bitten her tongue out for being so rude. Another awful pauseseemed impending, but just at that moment a horseman clatteredby with a smile and a salute, which caused Polly to exclaim, "Oh,there's Tom!" with a tone and a look that silenced the wordshovering on Sydney's lips, and caused him to hold out his handwith a look which made Polly's heart flutter then and ache withpity for a good while afterward, though he only said, "Good by,Polly."He was gone before she could do anything but look up at him witha remorseful face, and she walked on, feeling that the first andperhaps the only lover she would ever have, had read his answerand accepted it in silence. She did not know what else he had read,and comforted herself with the thought that he did not care for hervery much, since he took the first rebuff so quickly.Polly did not return to her favorite walk till she learned fromMinnie that "Uncle" had really left town, and then she found thathis friendly company and conversation was what had made theway so pleasant after all. She sighed over the perversity of thingsin general, and croaked a little over her trials in particular, but onthe whole got over her loss better than she expected, for soon shehad other sorrows beside her own to comfort, and such work doesa body more good than floods of regretful tears, or hours ofsentimental lamentation.She shunned Fanny for a day or two, but gained nothing by it, forthat young lady, hearing of Sydney's sudden departure, could notrest till she discovered the cause of it, and walked in upon Pollyone afternoon just when the dusk made it a propitious hour fortender confidences."What have you been doing with yourself lately?" asked Fanny,composing herself, with her back toward the rapidly waning light."Wagging to and fro as usual. What's the news with you?"answered Polly, feeling that something was coming and rather gladto have it over and done with."Nothing particular. Trix treats Tom shamefully, and he bears itlike a lamb. I tell him to break his engagement, and not be worriedso; but he won't, because she has been jilted once and he thinks it's such a mean thing to do.""Perhaps she'll jilt him.""I've no doubt she will, if anything better comes along. But Trix isgetting pass,e, and I should n't wonder if she kept him to his word,just out of perversity, if nothing else.""Poor Tom, what a fate!" said Polly with what was meant to be acomical groan; but it sounded so tragical that she saw it would n'tpass, and hastened to hide the failure by saying, with a laugh, "Ifyou call Trix pass,e at twenty-three, what shall we all be attwenty-five?" "Utterly done with, and laid upon the shelf. I feel soalready, for I don't get half the attention I used to have, and theother night I heard Maud and Grace wondering why those old girls'did n't stay at home, and give them a chance.' ""How is Maudie?""Pretty well, but she worries me by her queer tastes and notions.She loves to go into the kitchen and mess, she hates to study, andsaid right before the Vincents that she should think it would begreat fun to be a beggar-girl, to go round with a basket, it must beso interesting to see what you'd get.""Minnie said the other day she wished she was a pigeon so shecould paddle in the puddles and not fuss about rubbers.""By the way, when is her uncle coming back?" asked Fanny, whocould n't wait any longer and joyfully seized the opening Pollymade for her."I'm sure I don't know.""Nor care, I suppose, you hard-hearted thing.""Why, Fan, what do you mean?""I'm not blind, my dear, neither is Tom, and when a younggentleman cuts a call abruptly short, and races after a young lady,and is seen holding her hand at the quietest corner of the park, andthen goes travelling all of a sudden, we know what it means if youdon't.""Who got up that nice idea, I should like to know?" demandedPolly, as Fanny stopped for breath."Now don't be affected, Polly, but just tell me, like a dear, has n'the proposed?""No, he has n't.""Don't you think he means to?""I don't think he'll ever say a word to me.""Well, I am surprised!" And Fanny drew a long breath, as if a loadwas off her mind. Then she added in a changed tone: "But don'tyou love him, Polly?""No.""Truly?""Truly, Fan."Neither spoke for a minute, but the heart of one of them beatjoyfully and the dusk hid a very happy face."Don't you think he cared for you, dear?" asked Fanny, presently. "Idon't mean to be prying, but I really thought he did.""That's not for me to say, but if it is so, it's only a passing fancyand he'll soon get over it.""Do tell me all about it; I'm so interested, and I know somethinghas happened, I hear it in your voice, for I can't see your face.""Do you remember the talk we once had after reading one of MissEdgeworth's stories about not letting one's lovers come to adeclaration if one did n't love them?""Yes.""And you girls said it was n't proper, and I said it was honest,anyway. Well, I always meant to try it if I got a chance, and I have.Mind you, I don't say Mr. Sydney loved me, for he never said so,and never will, now, but I did fancy he rather liked me and mightdo more if I did n't show him that it was of no use.""And you did?" cried Fanny, much excited."I just gave him a hint and he took it. He meant to go away beforethat, so don't think his heart is broken, or mind what silly tattlerssay. I did n't like his meeting me so much and told him so by goinganother way. He understood, and being a gentleman, made no fuss.I dare say he thought I was a vain goose, and laughed at me for mypains, like Churchill in'Helen.' ""No, he would n't; He'd like it and respect you for doing it. But,Polly, it would have been a grand thing for you.""I can't sell myself for an establishment.""Mercy! What an idea!""Well, that's the plain English of half your fashionable matches. I'm'odd,' you know, and prefer to be an independent spinster andteach music all my days.""Ah, but you won't. You were made for a nice, happy home of yourown, and I hope you'll get it, Polly, dear," said Fanny warmly,feeling so grateful to Polly, that she found it hard not to pour outall her secret at once."I hope I may; but I doubt it," answered Polly in a tone that madeFanny wonder if she, too, knew what heartache meant."Something troubles you, Polly, what is it? Confide in me, as I doin you," said Fanny tenderly, for all the coldness she had tried tohide from Polly, had melted in the sudden sunshine that had cometo her."Do you always?" asked her friend, leaning forward with anirresistible desire to win back the old-time love and confidence,too precious to be exchanged for a little brief excitement or thebarren honor of "bagging a bird," to use Trix's elegant expression.Fanny understood it then, and threw herself into Polly's arms,crying, with a shower of grateful tears; "Oh, my dear! my dear!did you do it for my sake?"And Polly held her close, saying in that tender voice of hers, "I didn't mean to let a lover part this pair of friends if I could help it."