A Protégée of Jack Hamlins | Page 8

uneasily up and down the formal reception room into which
he had been finally ushered. Its farther end was filled by an enormous

parlor organ, a number of music books, and a cheerfully variegated
globe. A large presentation Bible, an equally massive illustrated
volume on the Holy Land, a few landscapes in cold, bluish milk and
water colors, and rigid heads in crayons--the work of pupils--were
presumably ornamental. An imposing mahogany sofa and what seemed
to be a disproportionate excess of chairs somewhat coldly furnished the
room. Jack had reluctantly made up his mind that, if Sophy was
accompanied by any one, he would be obliged to kiss her to keep up his
assumed relationship. As she entered the room with Miss Mix, Jack
advanced and soberly saluted her on the cheek. But so positive and
apparent was the gallantry of his presence, and perhaps so suggestive of
some pastoral flirtation, that Miss Mix, to Jack's surprise, winced
perceptibly and became stony. But he was still more surprised that the
young lady herself shrank half uneasily from his lips, and uttered a
slight exclamation. It was a new experience to Mr. Hamlin.
But this somewhat mollified Miss Mix, and she slightly relaxed her
austerity. She was glad to be able to give the best accounts of Miss
Brown, not only as regarded her studies, but as to her conduct and
deportment. Really, with the present freedom of manners and laxity of
home discipline in California, it was gratifying to meet a young lady
who seemed to value the importance of a proper decorum and behavior,
especially towards the opposite sex. Mr. Hamlin, although her guardian,
was perhaps too young to understand and appreciate this. To this
inexperience she must also attribute the indiscretion of his calling
during school hours and without preliminary warning. She trusted,
however, that this informality could be overlooked after consultation
with Madame Bance, but in the mean time, perhaps for half an hour,
she must withdraw Miss Brown and return with her to the class. Mr.
Hamlin could wait in this public room, reserved especially for visitors,
until they returned. Or, if he cared to accompany one of the teachers in
a formal inspection of the school, she added, doubtfully, with a glance
at Jack's distracting attractions, she would submit this also to Madame
Bance.
"Thank you, thank you," returned Jack hurriedly, as a depressing vision
of the fifty or sixty scholars rose before his eyes, "but I'd rather not. I

mean, you know, I'd just as lief stay here ALONE. I wouldn't have
called anyway, don't you see, only I had a day off,--and--and--I wanted
to talk with my niece on family matters." He did not say that he had
received a somewhat distressful letter from her asking him to come; a
new instinct made him cautious.
Considerably relieved by Jack's unexpected abstention, which seemed
to spare her pupils the distraction of his graces, Miss Mix smiled more
amicably and retired with her charge. In the single glance he had
exchanged with Sophy he saw that, although resigned and apparently
self-controlled, she still appeared thoughtful and melancholy. She had
improved in appearance and seemed more refined and less rustic in her
school dress, but he was conscious of the same distinct separation of
her personality (which was uninteresting to him) from the sentiment
that had impelled him to visit her. She was possibly still hankering after
that fellow Stratton, in spite of her protestations to the contrary;
perhaps she wanted to go back to her sister, although she had declared
she would die first, and had always refused to disclose her real name or
give any clue by which he could have traced her relations. She would
cry, of course; he almost hoped that she would not return alone; he half
regretted he had come. She still held him only by a single quality of her
nature,--the desperation she had shown on the boat; that was something
he understood and respected.
He walked discontentedly to the window and looked out; he walked
discontentedly to the end of the room and stopped before the organ. It
was a fine instrument; he could see that with an admiring and
experienced eye. He was alone in the room; in fact, quite alone in that
part of the house which was separated from the class-rooms. He would
disturb no one by trying it. And if he did, what then? He smiled a little
recklessly, slowly pulled off his gloves, and sat down before it.
He played cautiously at first, with the soft pedal down. The instrument
had never known a strong masculine hand before, having been fumbled
and friveled over by softly incompetent, feminine fingers. But presently
it began to thrill under the passionate hand of its lover, and carried
away