"Because, when a man attains the sober and discreet age of forty years, he naturally and logically thinks he has earned, and is ent.i.tled to, an exemption from the petty teasing to which soph.o.m.ores and sentimentalists are subjected. While I gratefully appreciate the compliment implied in your forgetfulness, permit to remind you of the disagreeable fact that I am no longer a boy."
"You lose sight of that same ugly and ill-mannered fact, much more frequently than I am in danger of doing; and I affectionately suggest that you stimulate your own torpid memory. Ah, brother! why will you not be frank, and confide in me? Women are not easily hoodwinked, except by their lovers,--and you can not deceive me in this matter."
"What pleasure do you suppose it would afford me to practice deceit of any kind towards my only sister? To what cla.s.s of motives could you credit such conduct?"
"I think you shrink from acknowledging your real feelings, because you very well know that I could never sanction or consent to them."
Mr. Minge arched his heavy brows, and the sternly drawn lines of his large mouth relaxed, and threatened to run into curves that belonged to the ludicrous, as he turned his twinkling eyes upon his sister"s face.
"What extraordinary hallucinations attack even sage, sedate, middle-aged men? Ten minutes ago I would have sworn I was your guardian; whereas, it seems your ap.r.o.n-strings are the reins that rule me. Don"t pout, my Czarina, if I demand your credentials before I bow submissively to your _ukase_."
"Irony is not your forte; and, Merton, I beg you to recollect that I detest bantering,--it is so excessively ungenteel. No wonder you look nervous and ashamed, after your recent very surprising manifestation of--well, I might as well say what I mean--of _mauvais gout_."
Constance Minge impatiently threw off the light worsted shawl that rested on her shoulders, and propped her cheek on her jewelled hand.
Her brother"s countenance clouded, and his lips hardened, but after one keen look at her flushed features, he once more resumed the perusal of the paper. Some moments elapsed, and his sister sobbed, but he took no notice of the sound.
"Merton, I never expected you would treat me so cruelly."
"Make out your charges in detail, and when you are sure you have included all the petty deeds of tyranny as well as the heinous acts of brutality, I will examine the indictment, and hear myself arraigned.
Shall I bring you some legal cap, and loan you my pencil?"
For five minutes she held her handkerchief to her eyes, and then Mr.
Minge rose and looked at his watch.
"You will not be so unkind as to leave me again this afternoon, and spend your time with that--"
"Constance, you transcend your privileges, and this is a most _apropos_ and convenient occasion to remind you that presumption is one fault I find it particularly difficult to forgive. Since my forbearance only invites aggression, let me hear say (as an economy of trouble), that you are rashly invading a realm where I permit none to enter, much less to dictate. I hope you understand me."
"I knew it,--I felt it! I dreaded that artful girl would make mischief between us,--would alienate the only heart I had left to care for me.
Oh, how I wish she had been forty fathoms under the sea before you ever saw her!--before you ceased to love me!"
A flood of tears emphasized the sentence, which seemed lost upon Mr.
Minge, as he lighted a cigar, tried its flavor, threw it away, and puffed the smoke from a second.
"I am sorry you can"t smoke and compose your nerves, as I am preparing to do,--though I confess I prefer to kiss your lips untainted by such odors. Shall I?"
He held his cigar aside to prevent the wind from wafting the curling column of smoke in her face, and bent his head close to hers; but she put up her hand to prevent the caress, and averted her face.
"As you like. But mark you, Constance, the next time our lips touch, you will find yourself in the nominative case, while I meekly fill an objective position. You are a poor, wilful, spoiled child, and I must begin to undo my own ruinous work."
He picked up his hat and walked off, followed by a pretty Italian mouse-colored greyhound, whose silver bell tinkled as she ran down the steps.
"Merton, come back! Do not leave me here alone, or I shall die.
Brother!--"
On strode the stalwart figure, looking neither to right nor left, and behind him trailed the vaporous aroma of the fine cigar.
Raising herself on her couch, the invalid elevated her voice, and exclaimed,--
"Please, dear Merton, come back,--at least long enough to let me kiss you. Please, brother!"
He paused,--wavered,--drew geometrical figures on the ground with the tip of his boot, and finally took off his hat, turned and bowed, saying,--
"Show some flag of truce, if you really want me to return."
She raised her hands and gracefully tossed him several kisses.
Slowly Mr. Minge retraced his steps, and, as he sat down once more close to his sister and pushed back his hat, she saw that he intended her to realize that her reign was at an end; and she trembled and turned pale at the expression with which he regarded her.
"Merton, don"t you know--don"t you believe--that I love you above everything else?"
She sat erect, and stole one arm around the neck that did not bend toward her, as was its habit.
"If you really loved me, you would desire to see me happy."
"I do desire it, earnestly and sincerely; and there is no sacrifice I would not make to see you really happy."
"Provided I selected your mode of obtaining the boon, and moreover consulted your caprices and antipathies; otherwise, my happiness would annoy and insult you."
"Don"t scold,--kiss me." She put up her lips, but he did not respond to the motion, and she pettishly drew his head down and kissed him several times. "How obstinate you have grown!--how harsh towards me!
It is all the result of that--"
She bit her lip, and her brother frowned.
"Take care! You seem continually disposed to stumble very awkwardly into forbidden realms."
The petted invalid nestled her pretty head on his bosom, and patted his cheek with one hot hand.
"Brother, Kate Sutherland was here this morning, and left--besides numerous kind messages for you--a three-cornered note that I ordered Adele to place in your dressing-case, where I felt sure you would see it."
"Yes, I saw it."
"An invitation to ascend Monte Pellegrini?"
"Which I respectfully decline."
"O Merton! Why not go?"
"Simply because I never premeditatedly, and with _malice prepense_, bore myself by joining parties composed of persons in whom I have not an atom of interest."
"But Kate is so lovely?"
"Not to me."
"Nonsense! She was the handsomest young girl in Paris, and was the acknowledged belle of the season."
"Possibly. Henna-dyed nails are considered irresistible in Turkey, but your opalescent ones attract me infinitely more pleasantly."
"Pray what have my nails to do with Kate"s beauty?"