The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 30
Acting on the hint thus given, I was not slow to put the question that had even before been trembling on my lips. What words or arguments I employed, it is unnecessary to repeat. After all, my proposal was nothing so very formidable. In consenting to take a seat in my curricle, Reva committed herself to nothing more than a formal acceptance of me as a suitor on probation,—a relation that did not necessarily imply an association more intimate than had practically existed between us for two days past.
"Yet it would have been so pleasant to go on as hitherto," she said with a little sigh; "but that, I suppose, could not be."
"Have these days been so pleasant?" I inquired.
"Yes, very pleasant, both to my father and myself."
"Why not, then, continue as we have been,—as nearly, at least, as may be?"
Reva looked at me inquiringly.
"You have an aversion to binding up your hair?"
"It does seem to me a sign of bondage," was her reply.
"Well, then, what need to bind it up, except when custom requires, if it does require, that we appear together in public? Otherwise let us go on just as heretofore."
"Is this a promise?" inquired Reva.
"A promise," said I.
"You will not, then, ask me to go out unless I really wish to go?"
"But how can I tell," I exclaimed, "when such a request will not prove unwelcome?"
"Let me see—perhaps I may—But this is better. When I hand you a slip of eglantine in this way," said she, suiting the action to the words, "or when you find such a slip in the table-bouquet, opposite your place at table, you will know that I would like you to take me somewhere."
"You will find me an obedient slave," said I, with an air of mock resignation. "I only hope"—
"You must not talk in that way," exclaimed Reva, checking me with finger uplifted in warning, "if we are to be good friends!"
As already has been remarked, truthfulness and sincerity were marked characteristics in the people of this period. Hence an utter absence of the hollow phrases that form so large a part of our social currency,—a currency so well worn as, in many cases, to require the aid of an expert to determine the original image and superscription. If a person had any thing to say, it was said with all courtesy, but at the same time with strict adherence to the truth as known to the speaker. If, for any reason, it would be inconvenient or undesirable to give an answer to an interrogation, tacit or expressed, a slight gesture, made by raising the band with the palm outward, put an end to all questioning on that topic.
Trained from childhood to respect this sign, none ever thought of inquiring for which of a hundred possible reasons the question might be inopportune. Far from acting as a restriction, this convention tended to promote freedom of social intercourse. Less anxious consideration was requisite as to whether a given inquiry would prove embarrassing, seeing that the person addressed possessed a ready means of putting it gently aside. A small hand, of a material resembling ivory, was an invariable adjunct of the desk or workbench. The palm turned outward indicated that the person engaged at the table or bench desired his attention not to be distracted for any slight cause: the contrary position showed that he or she might be freely addressed. These are but examples of a number of conventional signs, which not only effected a considerable economy of words, but also obviated much of the friction of social intercourse.
As may be supposed, a tone of insincere or exaggerated compliment was utterly foreign to the mental habits of people trained in such a way. Indeed, the habitual use among us of that style of address towards woman was regarded by writers upon our times as an evidence of the incompleteness of our civilization; since it showed, that, to a certain extent, we were still under the influence of the old savage idea of the comparative inferiority of the female sex. "Just as in the history of man," commented an author already quoted, the moral only by slow degrees gained an ascendency over the physical; so woman rose by slow and painful steps from the degraded position she held among savages. When savagery gave way to barbarism, force to deceit, man ceased, indeed, to beat the weaker sex, but did not scruple to cheat her. Instead of the fair share of rights justly due to her as a being as highly endowed as himself, though in a different way, he magnanimously handed over to her the savage ornaments with which he no longer deigned to adorn his own person, gilding her real slavery by fine phrases, and veiling his own as real sense of superiority by a tone of insincere adulation that he would have regarded as an insult to his understanding if addressed to himself."
Fearing, perhaps, that she had hurt my feelings by that gentle warning, Reva went on to say,—
"Had I not so much regard for you, Ismar, I would not be so ready to warn you."
"You have, then, some regard for me?"
"Yes," replied she, with the charming frankness of one utterly unaccustomed to deceit or fear: "I think I liked you from the first; and"—here she hesitated for a moment, as if contending with a sudden access of shyness, yet went bravely on, busily occupied meanwhile in the arrangement of some flowers, "if my regard goes on increasing as since then, we shall be—very good friends. But come: it is time to go in."
Near the door we met Hulmar. He could easily read in my face how the matter stood; for, at that moment, I felt supremely happy.
"Is it so?" he inquired of me; but, hardly waiting for my gesture of assent, he stooped, and tenderly kissed his daughter on the forehead.
"My dear child, you make me very happy."
"Are you, then, so glad at the prospect of being rid of me?" she murmured, in a tone of gentle reproach, as she held down his stately head to return his salute.
"No, my child. I am glad for the exactly contrary reason. Come, let us sit here, and discuss this matter in a reasonable manner. Ismar, here," he continued after we had taken our seats, "is twenty-five: you, Reva, are a few days past your nineteenth birthday. Assuming, then, that all goes smoothly. it will be two years and a half, at least, before you will leave me to enter into that most intimate of human relations. Two years and a half, my children, is none too long for that attuning of two minds to each other, from which results perfect harmony of character. I have even some hopes," he went on, patting meanwhile the little hand he held in his, "that I need not lose you even then. I understand from Utis, that Osna Diotha thinks of settling here permanently in her native district. In that case, Ismar, there will be little to recall you to Maoria."
"I can assure you," said I earnestly, "there is nothing whatever to recall me there; since I have never—that is, I have no consciousness of ever having been in that island."
"So much the better for my little plan," said Hulmar.
"Olav and Ialma will, of course, give me the pleasure of their society for a year or two. But it has been arranged, that eventually they shall make their home with Ialma's father, who has no son. At times, I must confess, I have looked forward with some sinking of the heart to the time when I should be obliged to live here in solitude, or leave a spot endeared to me by many memories. Could I but see my dear child the happy mistress of the home of which her mother was once the light, I should have attained the fulfilment of one of those day-dreams we scarcely hope to see fulfilled. No more need be said of this matter at present; but you now know any daydream, and may, perhaps, help to make it a reality."
After an interval of silence, during which Hulmar seemed absorbed in reflection, Reva, as by a sudden resolve, rose, and, going to the place where I had laid down the sprig of eglantine that had already done such service, took up this now somewhat withered emblem, and presented it to me in silence. I looked up in glad surprise.
"You would really like a turn in the curricle?"
"I must see Ialma: and—it would be ungracious on my part, it would even surprise her, if I were to go by myself."
"But, I assure you,"—I began.
"Yes, I understand. But I, too, realize that I have entered into a compact that should not be one-sided. I will keep you waiting but a short time."
With these words she tripped into the house. Her father said nothing, but I could see he was pleased with the state of affairs. I made haste to bring round my curricle to the door, where Hulmar joined me while carefully examining the vehicle to make sure of its being in perfect order.
"It seems but yesterday," he remarked with a pleasant but half melancholy smile, "since I, too, was anxiously surveying the machine that, for the first time, was to carry an additional burden, light but precious. As I have already said, you have my best wishes in this matter One somewhat selfish motive I adverted to a short while ago. But there are others. I knew and admired your father; your mother was my wife's dearest friend; and I, for some reason, feel strongly drawn toward you. I therefore venture to advise you as I would a son. You have, I understand, a sister, to whom you are much attached. Well, my advice is, that you behave toward Reva, meanwhile, much as you would toward that beloved sister. You, I can easily see, are deeply in love with Reva; but she as yet has merely a liking for you. You must allow this liking to develop into a stronger feeling; but take care to avoid the error, common in such cases, of rendering your presence a burden by too obtrusive attentions."
At this moment Reva made her appearance in the doorway. She had made some slight changes in her costume. In one hand she carried one of those graceful hats worn by girls when going in the sun. In the other she held an arrow-shaped metallic ornament, the use of which I easily divined, having frequently seen them in use. With this, under her direction, her father fastened the coil into which she gathered her beautiful locks. In thus performing the office usually assigned to the mother, Hulmar was but acting in conformity with an established variation from the ordinary procedure.
"Now I am ready," she said gayly, after rewarding her father's assistance with a kiss,—assistance in which the intention was better than the performance; for, during the ride, the beautiful tresses tumbled down. I enjoyed the privilege of replacing the fastening, though without receiving any such recompense, or even hinting at it. In this case a good deed was indeed its own suficient reward. The fraternal coolness, moreover, with which I rendered this slight service, went far to promote that feeling of camaraderie, on which footing I saw it was safest to establish our relations, for the present at least.
It may also be remarked, that in a country so densely peopled, and in which every man and woman, almost every child, had an ever-ready vehicle at command, riding on the high-road was much like riding in one of our public parks. Thus the freedom accorded young people, in regard to riding about in each other's company, was completely in accordance with the wise circumspection that had framed the etiquette governing their mutual relations. While enjoying every opportunity for conversation under the most favorable circumstances, they were, at the same time, always under the public eye.
Before we started, it had been arranged, that, instead of proceeding at once to Ialma, Reva should pay her first visit in my company to Semna Diotha, her great-grand-mother. After presenting ourselves there, we would have time to reach the house of Utis, where we should all dine. together. Hulmar undertook to send the necessary warning to the culinary depot, as well as to our friends.
"You can then stay over night with Ialma," he concluded. "There are many things in regard to which you will need to consult Ialma."