Sophy

“ A sword—a crown—the nimbus of a saint: imagination might play untrammelled. Still some prophecy was made; Lady Meg built on it, and Sophy (for all her apparent indifference) remembered it, and in after-days thought it worthy of recall. That is as far as we can go; and with that passing glimpse, Sophy Grouch (of course the mention of the wafer-like mark puts her identity beyond question) passes out of sight for the time; indeed, as Sophy Grouch, in the position in which we have seen her and in the name under which we have known her, she passes out of sight forever. ”

“ The Prince gave a short laugh. "You shall have no such plea at the court-martial," he said. "Gentlemen don't waylay one another in the streets. Stand aside!"
Mistitch laughed, and in an instant the Prince sprang at him. Sophy heard the blades meet. Strong as death was the fascination for her eyes—ay, for her ears, too, for she heard the quick-moving feet and the quicker breathing of a mortal combat. But she would not look—she tried not even to listen. Her eyes were for a man she could not see, her ears for a man she could not hear. ”

“ Lionel and Sophy are now seated on yon moss-grown trunk, on either side the old grey-haired man, as if agreeing for a while even to forget each. other, that they may make him feel how fondly he is remembered. Sophy is resting both her hands on the old man's shoulder, looking into his face, and murmuring in his ear with voice like the coo of a happy dove. Ah, fear not, Sophy; he is happy too—he who never thinks of himself. Look —the playful smile round his arch lips; look—now he is showing off Sir Isaac to Vance; with austere solemnity the dog goes through his tricks ”

“ Suddenly a childish voice rang out clear through the hall—a fearless, eager little voice.
"What's that you've got on your cheek?" asked young Alexis, with engaging candor; his finger pointed at Sophy's face.
So quaint an interruption to the stately formality of the scene struck people's sense of humor. Everybody laughed—even Countess Ellenburg. Sophy's own laugh rose rich and merry. Her ignorance or carelessness of etiquette betrayed itself; she darted at the pretty boy, caught him in her arms, and kissed him, answering: "That's my luck—my Red Star." ”

“ Narrow slits, deep-set in the masonry, served for windows and gave a view of the city and of the country round on every side; they showed the seething throng on the north wall and on the quays; the distant sound of a thousand voices struck the ear.
Zerkovitch and his wife were with the Prince, seated over a simple meal, at which Sophy joined them. Marie had watched Sophy's entrance and the Prince's greeting closely; she marked Sophy's excitement betrayed in the familiar signal on her cheek. But the journalist was too excited on his own account to notice other people. ”

“ Sophy hated these crouching attitudes of his. They made her feel that he was preparing to spring on something—to worry it. And she noticed how dull his thick, fair hair looked in the lamplight—"staring" like the coat of a horse out of condition. She knew that he had not been well for the last two years, but his illness puzzled her—with its violent interruptions of alternate rage and high spirits, its long stretches of indifferent apathy. [Pg 3]
She did not go up to him, but stood in the middle of the room as she had stood in the middle of the stairway, watching him. ”

“ Tell Christina.”
“Sophy is dead—dead and gone for me. Oh Sophy, Sophy, Sophy!”
“Andrew, tell me a straight tale. You are not a woman to let any sorrow get the mastery over you.”
“Sophy has gone from me. She has played me false—and after all these years, deceived and left me.”
“Then there is still the Faithful One. His love is from everlasting, to everlasting. He changeth not.”
“Ay; I know,” he said drearily. But he straightened himself and unfastened the button at his throat, and stood up on his feet, planting them far apart, as if he felt the earth like the reeling deck of a ship. ”

“ As the girl went on with the rather tiresome song, Sophy turned her head and glanced at him again. This time he smiled, very slightly. She smiled in answer. Yes; it was really as if they were old friends meeting thus unexpectedly again.
And how charming his face was—dark and irregular! Now, again, that she saw him without looking at him, in that way women have, she thought he had a reserved air. She always noticed at once the colour of people's eyes. Amaldi's were a clear olive. ”

“ I'm to be an actress! Fancy mother consenting at last! An actress instead of a governess! Isn't it glorious?" She paused a moment, then added, with a self-conscious laugh: "Basil's awfully angry, though."
"Why. should he be angry?" asked Sophy. Her own anger was gone; she was plucking daisies and sticking them here and there in her friend's golden hair. They were great friends, this pair, and Sophy was very proud of the friendship. Julia was grown up, the beauty of the village, and—a lady! Now Sophy was by no means any one of these things. ”

“ Poor, gentle, unsuspicious Sophy! She little guessed the troubled heart, the wearisomeness of spirit, on which the door of that spacious chamber closed when Arthur Vavasour went out from her presence. She loved the man who only liked, respected, cared for her, with a passion almost equal to his for the beautiful woman of whose very existence the trusting wife had ceased to think ”

“ General Stenovics, President of the Council of Ministers, was not an imposing personage to the outward view. But Sophy returned the regard of his prominent pale-blue eyes (which sorted oddly with the complexion of his face) with vivid attention. The General rode on, Markart following, but turning in his saddle to salute once more and to wave his hand in friendly farewell.
For the first time since her arrival in Slavna, Sophy was conscious of a stir of excitement. Life had been dull and heavy; the mind had enjoyed little food save the diet of sad memories. ”

“ Sophy's mark was ruddy indeed as the Rector went on his blameless way, and Julia was squeezing her friend's arm very hard. But Sophy said nothing, except to murmur—just once—"The little one!"
Julia smiled at the tone.
They turned and walked back towards the road. Now silence reigned; Julia was understanding, pitying, wondering whether a little reasonable remonstrance would be accepted by her fiery and very unreasonable little friend; scullery - maids must not arraign social institutions nor quarrel with the way of the world. ”

“ How much did Sophy know? What rôle would it be best for him to play? He had long dreaded this contingency. He knew that sometimes he overdosed himself with the drug. There were blank spaces in his life—gaps which he could not fill in with any sequence of events, try as he might. What had happened? What had he himself said or done? Had he left the hypodermic syringe where she could see it? Had Gaynor turned disloyal? One bit of clear reason rose dominant above the chaos of surmise. He must appear calm, no matter how violent the tumult of his secret self. ”

“ Sophy now started—shook back her fair curls-rose-put on her bonnet, and in less than a minute was by the old man’s side. Drawing his arm fondly into hers, they descend the stairs; they are in the garden; Mrs. Morley comes to meet them—then George. Wife exerts himself to talk—to be gay—to protect Sophy’s abstracted silence by his own active, desultory, erratic humour. Twice or thrice, as he leans on Sophy’s arm, she draws it still nearer to her, and presses it tenderly. ”

“ An agreeable talker, an accomplished singer, and a kind-hearted woman, she was an acquaintance to be welcomed. Whatever strange notions she harbored about Sophy in after-days, she conceived from the beginning, and never lost, a strong affection for her, and their friendship ripened quickly from their first meeting at Lady Meg's, where Marie Zerkovitch was a frequent visitor, and much interested in Pharos's hocus-pocus. ”

“ The letter to Sophy ran thus:
"Darling, forgive me; I have stolen away from you, but only for a few days, and only in order to see if we cannot gain the magic home where I am to be the Genius, and you the Princess. I go forth with such a light heart, Sophy dear. I shall be walking thirty miles a day, and not feel an ache in the lame leg; you could not keep up with me—you know you could not. So think over the cottage and the basket-work, and practice at samplers and pin-cushions when it is too hot to play; and be stout and strong against I come back. ”

“ Yes, you do see before you, grown up to become the pride of those who cherish her, that Sophy who—"
"Sophy!" cried Lionel advancing; "it is so, then! I knew you were no stroller's grandchild."
Sophy drew up: "I am, I am his grandchild, and as proud to be so as I was then."
"Pardon me, pardon me; I meant to say that he too was not what be seemed. You forgive me," extending his hand, and Sophy's soft hand fell into his forgivingly.
"But he lives? is well? is here? is—" Sophy burst into tears, and Lady Montfort made a sign to Lionel to go into the garden, and leave them. ”

“ Who else is with you?"
"In Slavna? Nobody! Well, the Zerkovitches, and my hundred in Suleiman's Tower. And perhaps some old men who have seen war. But at Volseni and among the hills they're with me." Again he seemed to muse as he reviewed his scanty forces.
"I wish we had another match. I want to see your face close," said Sophy. He rose with a laugh and leaned his head forward to the window. "Oh no; you're nothing but a blur still!" she exclaimed impatiently.
Yet, though Sophy sighed for light, the darkness had its glamour. ”

“ Mrs Brownlow followed the procession, Sophy still in her arms. At the end of the avenue she spoke to the boy and girl:
"Go home, Basil; tell your father, and ask him to come to the Hall. Good-night, Julia. Tell your mother—and don't cry any more. The poor man is with God, and I sha'n't let this mite come to harm."
She was a childless woman, with a motherly heart, and as she spoke she kissed Sophy's wounded forehead. Then she went into the Hall grounds, and the boy and girl were left together in the road. Basil shook his fist at the avenue of elms—his favorite playground. ”

“ Sophy said, with a scared look. “Do you mean that the man is—is some one I know?”
“Don’t tell her, Miss Marchant. I would not for worlds have her know. It would do no good. It might make her miserable. Women are so sensitive, even about the past, and I fear this affair is going on in the present.”
“Don’t tell her!” echoed Sophy. “You mean my sister! And the man is—Jack! Oh, what a wretch he must be!”
“Weak rather than wicked, perhaps. Don’t be too hard upon him in your innocence of life. When a man has forged fetters of that kind it ain’t easy to break them.” ”

“ All the authorities named above—not excepting Sophy herself—have plenty to say on the topic, and from their descriptions a portrait of her may be attempted. Of actual pictures one only exists—in the possession of the present Lord Dunstanbury, who succeeded his father—Sophy's Earl—a few years ago. It is a pastel, drawn just before she left Paris—and, to be frank, it is something of a disappointment; the taste of the 'sixties is betrayed in a simper which sits on the lips but is alien to the character of them. ”

“ Oh, Sophy, for the love of heaven, do not make him speak!”
“Nonsense—I am all right,” he said.
“Of course he can speak,” cried Sophy, triumphantly; “you are making a great deal too much fuss, Reine. Make him eat something, that will do him good. There’s some grouse. Everard, fetch him some grouse—one can eat that when one can eat nothing else—and I’ll run and get him a glass of champagne.” ”

“ So he had spun in gay peripheral circles with the wheel of life—until meeting Sophy. Now she had drawn him to its centre. It was strange how his consciousness, thus centrifugally established, seemed another consciousness. Only the present was real—this radiant and somewhat awful present in which he loved Sophy [Pg 300] as he had not believed that human beings could love. His past seemed like a dull, cheap volume of gaudy colour-prints. He could not realise that he had moved through those vulgar pictures of the past. This Morris Loring, he felt, had not been part of them. ”

“ If Sophy's boss had been any other sort of man he would have informed Sophy, sternly, that black princess effects, cut low, were not au fait in the shoe-clerk world. But Sophy's boss had a rhombic nose, and no instep, and the tail of his name had been amputated. He didn't care how Sophy wore her dresses so long as she sold shoes. ”

“ Sophy was charmed with the outer view of Le Vigne. Its mellow, white walls, so severely simple, and the fluted edge of its red-tiled roof gave her a relieved pleasure after her own orange-brown "chalet." The entrance hall was big and plain, with mosaic under foot, and great beams overhead, painted in between like the wings of night-moths. ”

“ The only sound was of Lorenzo's worrying the last tough scrap of bone. The lad, gentleman as he was, was good flesh and blood, too—and the blood was moving. He felt a little tightness in his throat; he was new to it. New, too, was Sophy Grouch to what his eyes said to her, but she took it with head erect and a glance steadily levelled at his. ”

“ You're going to be a cook?"
"The cook," she amended. "The cook at the Hall."
"I'll come and eat your dinners." He laughed, yet looked a trifle compassionate. Sophy's quick eyes tracked his feelings.
"You don't think it's nice to be a cook, either?" she asked.
"Oh yes, splendid! The cook's a sort of queen," said he.
"The cook a sort of queen? Is she?" Sophy's eyes were profoundly thoughtful.
"And I should be very proud to kiss a queen—a sort of queen. Because I shall be only a poor sawbones." ”