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Page 62
"I used to imagine Mr. Kendall cared more for his adopted daughter than
for his son, from what I saw of them, and I was at the house a good deal
with Phil. I am sure they were very affectionate; and it was only
natural that the melancholy old man--that is the way he always struck
me--should have loved the daughter of the woman who had deserted him and
then turned toward him in her hour of supreme need. It showed that her
trust and belief in him and his goodness had never really left her. And,
besides, Grace was always so airy and light-hearted,--nothing could put
her out of humor,--so kind and gentle, and as lovely as a flower. She is
a splendid-looking woman yet, but one can have no idea of what she was
in those days, from the sad-eyed Mrs. Herbert who smiles so rarely on
any one but her little girl. Nannie is going to make much such a young
lady as her mother was, but I don't believe she will ever be quite so
beautiful.
"Well, I was not long in discovering that Phil was in love with his
father's adopted daughter. I was never quite sure whether he knew it
himself at the time or not, but I could see easily enough that she
didn't dream of such a thing, nor the old captain either. They were so
much like brother and sister it used to make me feel wofully sorry for
Phil to see her throw her arms around his neck and kiss him for some
little kindness or other that he was always doing her: the difference of
mood in which the caress would be given from that in which Phil would
receive it was somehow always painful to me. Phil would never offer to
kiss her on his own account; and it is still a mystery to me why she
never discovered how he felt toward her until he became jealous. The
tenderness and gentle considerateness of his bearing were always so
marked that to a less innocent and pure nature, I fancy, it would have
been noticeable at once.
"When we were Juniors, Phil took her to a party one night, just after
Easter. The captain was a scrupulous Churchman, and Grace was always by
him in the pew. She had not been confirmed, however, and never said a
word to Phil and me about our persistency in staying away from church,
though the captain used to lecture Phil quite soberly about it. This
party was given at the house of one of the vestrymen, and they had
refreshments, and, after the rector had gone home, dancing. They called
it a sociable, and took up a collection for the ladies' aid society just
after the cake and coffee and whipped cream had been served. There was
where Grace first met George Herbert. He was a handsome young fellow,
well educated, a graduate of some Eastern college, clever and talented,
and his family in Rochester, New York, were considered very good people.
He had come to Lincoln to take a place on the 'Gazette,' and every one
thought him a young man of good parts and fair prospects.
"He made up to Grace from the start. They were laughing and talking
together all the evening on a little sofa, just large enough for two,
that stood in the bow-window. There was a little crowd of young people
around the two most of the time, and she was saying bright things to
them all, but never, I noticed, at the expense of young Herbert, who
made most of his remarks so low that no one but Grace could hear them.
She always smiled and often broke out into her musical laugh at what he
said; and when Phil, who had been trapped into a game of whist with some
old fogies, finally came back into the parlor and made his way to where
Grace was having such a happy time, she even launched a shaft or two of
her wit at him.
"I saw that the poor fellow was hurt: he turned away without answering,
though, and, coming over to where I was, sat down and began looking at
an album, trying hard all the time to hide his feelings. But in a moment
Grace was hanging over his shoulder, oblivious of her surroundings, and
lovingly begging his pardon if she had hurt him. I have sometimes
thought that Phil then fully realized for the first time how he cared
for her. The way in which her affection disregarded the presence of the
crowd smote him, I imagine, with something like despair. I saw him turn
pale and catch his breath, and I knew his laugh too well to be deceived,
as Grace was, when he made light of her self-accusations and declared
that than taking offence at her words nothing had been further from his
thoughts. This was in a sense true, of course, for ordinarily he would
have answered as light-heartedly almost as Grace herself; and it was
only the feeling of jealousy, unconscious perhaps, at any rate
irresistible, that gave her words undue--no, not that exactly, but
unusual influence over his feelings.
"For a while Phil acted as considerately as ever, and made himself
thoroughly agreeable to several young ladies, whereat Grace was highly
pleased and soon took up again her mood of gayety. But when Phil brought
her a plate and napkin and some things to eat, and found her and Herbert
already served and with mock gravity breaking a piece of cake together
on the stairs,--'they were only doing it,' Phil declared to me
afterward, 'that they might touch each other's hands,'--he lost his
head. He must have spoken very bitterly, else he would never have
aroused Grace's anger. I don't know what he said, except that he
complained about having come to such a thing as a church sociable, which
he despised, and, inasmuch as he had done it for the sake of her
enjoyment and pleasure, she might at least have shown him the same
politeness she would have accorded to any of the insufferable prigs whom
she seemed delighted to honor.
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