The Strand Magazine/Volume 2/Issue 12/Two Kisses
HAT Christmas Eve we were all seated cosily around the cheerful drawing-room fire; and, as my eldest brother was then on his way from Liverpool, where he was engaged in business, expressly to spend Christmas Day at home, we children had been graciously accorded permission to remain up and await his arrival. In the corner of the broad fireplace, reclining in her easy-chair, grandma looked smilingly from one young face to the other, evidently quite prepared for the demand made upon her on all such special occasions. Nor had she to wait very long; for scarcely had mamma looked at her watch and announced that Richard might be expected to knock his usual loud "rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat" at the door in just forty-five minutes punctually from that moment, when little Nellie turned to the white-haired old lady in the arm-chair and exclaimed, clapping her tiny hands: "Oh, grandma! Tell us a nice, pretty story."
"Yes, grandma, do!" we all chimed in.
"A lovely fairy tale," said Ethel, a young lady of nine summers.
"No, no, grandma," expostulated Master Ned, who was two years Ethel's senior; "let's have a ghost story—one that'll make our flesh creep."
"What rubbish!" said Ethel, contemptuously. "As it every sensible person doesn't know, nowadays, that there's no such thing as a ghost."
"Quite as many as there are fairies, anyhow," retorted Ned.
"Ah! but fairies are delightful," returned E hel, determined to have the last word of the dispute, "and ghosts are always, disagreeable."
"Well, well, children," said grandma, "we won't discuss the question. Fairies and ghosts both have their merits, no doubt, especially from the story-teller's point of view, and I should be sorry to say a single word against either. But, as tastes differ, I don't think it desirable to make any of you dissatisfied, so I shall avoid both goblins and fairies to-night, and tell you a story about a certain old lady of your acquaintance."
"A true, real old lady?" asked Edith, a quiet child of seven, who had not previously spoken.
"Yes, my love," replied grandma, smiling. "The old lady I mean is a very genuine person—at least, I hope she is—and the story about her is perfectly true."
"All right, grandma," blurted out Master Ned; "if it's not going to be creepy, I hope it's funny, that's all."
"I'm afraid you will be disappointed, my dear," continued grandma, shaking her head, "for the story is about myself, and I don't think I ever did anything funny in my whole life."
"About you, grandma?" we all exclaimed, joyfully. "Oh, do tell us!"
"Well, then, children," said grandma, "when I was Gertrude's age"—and here the good old lady glanced pleasantly at me—"I was much like what she is now; that is to say, tall for a girl of fourteen, slight of figure, with long, wavy, fair hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. In fact, if I may be allowed to say so, I was pronounced by good judges to be—ahem!—rather attractive. My eyes are still blue, but the rest of my description is considerably altered, as you see. Such changes will happen, you know, in the course of fifty years, so I shall not give way to fruitless lamentations.
"At the time I mention I was no longer quite a child, but could scarcely be considered a young lady—don't forget that I am speaking of fifty years ago, and that the girls of that period were by no means so advanced and so clever as those of the present day." (I half suspect this was intended ironically.)
"However, when I was fourteen," grandma continued, "I fancy I must have been still very simple-minded, for my existence, apart from my studies, was wrapped up in two passions, love for my only brother, whom I worshipped, and an inordinate fondness for the game of battledore and shuttlecock, then as much in vogue as lawn tennis is now. Of course I loved and revered my father, who was from sixty, and looked older, through grief at the loss of my mother, who died when I was an infant. My brother—whom I used to call 'my big brother'—was twelve years my senior, and we were Colonel Norton's only remaining children, a boy and girl having died before my birth.
"It was during the autumn holidays, one very rainy, unpleasant July day—we sometimes have such July days in London, even now!—and I was in the drawing-room, moping, instead of playing shuttlecock in the garden with my brother Frederick, who was always ready to do anything I asked, or, as he called it, commanded. I was dozing over a stupid book, when all at once I was roused by the sound of voices in the adjoining room, my father's study. In another moment, I heard my father and brother in evident altercation, the former speaking in loud and angry tones—so loud, indeed, that I could hear distinctly every word he uttered, whilst my brother's voice, though pitched in a lower key, was quite audible through the thin partition which separated the two disputants from me.
"'Father,' said Frederick, respectfully but firmly, 'I am resolved to make Mary Cuthbert my wife, because she is in every way worthy to bear our name, and because I love her.'
"You shall not have my consent."
"'And I,' replied my father, 'am equally resolved that you shall not have my consent to marry a penniless governess. Now, if you persist in your intention, you will know exactly the course I shall pursue.'
"'I understand you, father. I am deeply grieved to offend you, but if it must be so I shall leave your house. As I have already told you, I love Mary Cuthbert, she has consented to become my wife, and my word is pledged to her. I am twenty-six years of age, and you have no legal control over my actions.'
"'Very well, sir!' replied my father, after a painful pause. 'Do as you please, but bear in mind that from the hour of your marriage, you and the woman you are about to force into my family are strangers to me for ever.'
"'I hope, father, that time will convince you of the harshness and injustice of such a determination—that you will forget and forgive.'
"'Never, sir! Good-bye!'
"In another instant the study door opened, and my brother appeared in the room where I sat trembling and bewildered. He was quite calm, but very pale. Perceiving me, he came at once and took me in his arms.
"'Good-bye, darling,' he said, sadly. 'I am going away for a long, long time, and I don't know when I shall see my little sister again.'
"'No, no!' I cried. 'Don't say that, dear Frederick! You know I am not angry with you—how could I be angry with you, my dear, kind brother?'
"He looked at me inquiringly. 'Ah!' he said. 'You heard what passed just now, Maggie, did you?' Then, as if remembering the difference in our ages, he added: 'I wish I could explain all to you, dear, but I must not do that now. You are only a child, you know, little sister. These are matters which you will understand better when you are a few years older. All I can say to you at present is that I shall always love you tenderly, whether I am near yon or far away.'
"'And I shall always love you, too, dear brother,' I sobbed.
"He took me once more in his strong arms, kissed my quivering lips, and was gone.
"A fortnight afterwards Frederick Norton married the woman to whom he had given his heart, and now gave his name. It was a severe shock to my father, whose soldier's notions of duty and obedience were thus set at defiance by his only son. 'I will never forgive him,' he declared, 'never!'
"From that day the undivided affection of the proud, imperious, self-willed, but kind-hearted old man centred in me alone. I became his constant companion, and rather than permit me to be away from him even for a few hours each day, he took me from school, and engaged professors to continue my education under his own immediate direction, whilst he himself yielded to all my girlish whims and caprices with the most absolute docility. This commenced the hour of my brother's departure, and increased as time went on. My father appeared to divine and anticipate my smallest wishes, and often when I went out with him I was afraid to admire any trinket or knicknack I happened to notice in the shop-windows, well knowing that if I did so he would be sure to buy it for me before the day was over.
"To this paternal indulgence there was only a single exception, and on that one subject—my discarded brother—Colonel Norton remained as immovable as a rock.
"Often and often I essayed to bring about a reconciliation, and in furtherance of this much-desired end I exerted all the vast influence I knew I possessed over my father, and every feminine artifice as well, but my efforts were totally unavailing. The moment I commenced the forbidden theme, his brow darkened, and he commanded me to be silent. The tone he adopted on these occasions left me no alternative but to obey. I knew his nature too well to resist compliance with his will. I was repulsed, but not vanquished. Indeed, my hopes of ultimate victory were not in the least diminished by many successive checks which might well have disheartened a feeble girl like me, had I not been firmly resolved to triumph in the end. I was a soldier's daughter, and I had read enough of Roman history to remember that to temporise is sometimes to win."
"I know what that means, grandma," interrupted Master Ned, eager to display his erudition.
"What does it mean, my dear?" replied the old lady, smiling.
"Why, Fabius Cunctator, the Roman Consul, who played the waiting game against Annibal," replied Ned, proudly.
"You are perfectly right, Edward, and I adopted the Fabian policy of caution, refusing to fight in the open field, but continually harassing the enemy by counter-marches and ambuscades, like my wise Roman predecessor. Ah! what a clever general or field-marshal I might have made, if only I had been a man!
"Well, time passed on, until between six and seven years had elapsed since my father and brother had separated in anger. A reconciliation seemed as far off as ever, and I was almost beginning to lose courage, when one day at a dinner-party given by a high functionary of that period, at which my father and I were present, an incident occurred that unexpectedly revived my drooping hopes.
"Amongst other subjects of dinner-table conversation, an allusion was made to a recent railway accident in which, it was stated, a young civil engineer who chanced to be a passenger in the train, had saved many lives by his coolness and intrepidity. The gentleman who described the event was a stranger, seated just opposite to my father. He related how the engine-driver had been suddenly seized with illness, and the locomotive left ungoverned to rush on at full speed, when the young man spoken of had crawled along the footboards of the carriages, and, at the risk of his life, succeeded in stopping the train just in time to prevent a terrible catastrophe.
"'And who was the brave young fellow?' inquired my father.
"For a moment there was an embarrassed silence; then our host said quietly
"'Well, Colonel Norton, I am pleased to tell you it was your own son!'
"'I am not surprised,' said my father, simply. 'My son only did his duty.
"But at the same moment I stole a glance at him, and saw in his face the quick glow of pride which even he could not suppress.
"Women, my dear children, are not so dull of apprehension as some learned folks pretend they are. It struck me instantly that the cause I had so deeply at heart had that instant made a giant's stride, and I was not long in devising a plan to take advantage of the situation.
"I need scarcely say that my brother and I had always kept up the most affectionate communications with each other, and, during the years which followed his marriage, we had often met, though I carefully concealed the fact from my father's knowledge.
"I was well aware that my brother had made his way in the world by his own unaided exertions, and that he was highly esteemed by all who came into contact with him, socially or professionally. I knew too, that in the helpmeet he had chosen he had happily found a most excellent and devoted wife, admired and respected by all who were acquainted with her good qualities.
"On the night of the memorable dinner-party, I went to bed with a serene and contented mind, firmly convinced that a very short time would suffice to bring my plans to a successful issue. I was determined that the enemy should surrender at discretion, arms and baggage.
"The young man succeeded in stopping the train."
"We were just then at the beginning of Christmas week, and the greatest festival of the year fell on a Wednesday. On the previous day, my father, who was always most punctilious in the observance of the old-fashioned English Christmas, including a substantial English Christmas dinner, called me into his study.
"'Now then, Maggie, my dear,' he said with a cheery smile, 'I want to consult my little girl on a matter of very serious importance. Of course, you haven't forgotten that to-morrow is Christmas? Now, my pet, listen; I am going to ask your advice.'
"'My advice, papa? Surely you must be joking!'
"My advice, Paper?"
"'Not at all. In fact, I don't mind telling you in strict confidence that I'm at my wits' end, and it will be very kind of you to give me the benefit of your sage counsel. An intimate friend of mine has a charming daughter—a gentle, affectionate, devoted little girl who loves him, and he is very anxious to make her a nice Christmas present. He doesn't quite know what would please her best, and has asked me to suggest something. Now, as you and the young lady are of just about the same age, and I should be glad to oblige my old friend, I thought perhaps you might give me a hint.—Oh, hang long speeches and periphrase!' he burst out, impetuously. 'What would you like, Maggie, for a Christmas-box?—there!'
"Of course I knew from the beginning exactly what was coming, for it was merely a repetition of a little comedy my father repeated regularly every year at Christmas time. But I raised my eyebrows, in affected surprise, as if struck by the extraordinary novelty of the idea.
"'Good gracious, papa! Am I the young lady you mean?'
"'What other young lady should I mean, you little puss? Come now, speak out, and don't be afraid! I feel in a prodigal humour this Christmas, and you must take advantage of your old father's extravagance, my dear.'
"'Your generous intentions don't surprise me in the least, papa, because I know I am a spoiled child. But'
"'Well?'
"'This year I should like you to give me something very, very special.'
"'What is it, my love?'
"'You won't be angry?'
"'Angry?' said my father, with a tinge of sadness. 'Have I ever been angry with you?'
"'No, dear papa, never. Will you promise not to refuse me the Christmas-box I have set my heart on, whatever it may be?'
"'That's rather a strong promise, isn't it?'
"'Very well, papa. Then I don't want anything.'
"'Stop, stop! Humph! I will go so far as to promise you anything it is in my power to give."
"'Anything?'
"'Anything.'
"'Oh, dear papa, thank you!' And I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him on both his bronzed cheeks.
"'There!' I exclaimed. 'To-morrow, just before we sit down to dinner, I shall ask you for my Christmas-box.'
"'To-morrow, Maggie? How am I to buy your Christmas-box to-morrow? Why, all the shops will be closed!'
"'Ah, but what I shall ask you for is something you cannot buy! I see you are terribly perplexed, so I will relieve your anxiety by clearing up the mystery. For my Christmas-box to-morrow you are to give me two kisses.'
"'Two kisses!' he exclaimed, delighted. 'I should rather think they are not to be bought, nor sold neither! If you like, my dear, you shall have them at once, and two to follow before dinner to-morrow. Kisses? That's not much of a Christmas-box for a girl of twenty!'
"'Never mind, papa; don't forget I have your promise—the word of a soldier.'
"' Oh, I'll keep it, never fear!' And then, as he went away, I heard him mutter. 'But, by Jove! I haven't promised not to give the child a better Christmas-box than a couple of kisses!'
"The next day, punctually at four o'clock, dressed in my prettiest frock, I knocked at the study-door, and, in the most impressive tones I could muster, announced, 'If you please, Colonel, dinner is on the table!'
"'All right,' replied my father, with a smile of satisfaction, 'you see, I am quite ready; and I've got a roaring appetite, in order to do honour to the feast.'
"'I am delighted to hear it,' I answered. 'Now will you have the kindness to let me conduct you to the banqueting-hall?'
"'Stop a minute, my dear. You must first permit me to offer you a little Christmas souvenir, which I have here for the occasion.' And, opening one of the drawers in his writing-table, he drew forth a beautiful and costly bracelet, set with pearls, which he clasped on my arm in the most gallant and courtly manner.
"'And now,' he added, 'this small affair having been disposed of to the satisfaction, I trust, of all parties concerned, it only remains for me to give you the two kisses you asked me for yesterday.'
"'Ah! yes, papa, you are quite right; but I didn't say the kisses were for myself. Wait a moment, and you will see!'
"Without giving him time to consider my meaning, I took his arm, and led him into the dining-room. Scarcely had we crossed the threshold, when a sweet little girl of four summers clasped my father's knee, and lisped 'Merry Christmas, g'anpa!' At the same moment a curly-headed, blue-eyed boy of six seized his coat-tail, and shouted, 'Merry Christmas, grandpa!'
"It needed all my courage to speak as I did."
"My father stopped short, turned sharply towards me, with brows contracted, and for a moment my heart sank within me. I thought my plan had failed. But the kind old man glanced at the two baby faces, and in an instant the threatened storm had passed away. Stooping, he lifted both the children in his arms and covered them with kisses, whilst I saw two big tears roll down the veteran’s cheeks.
"'Now or never!' thought I, as I ran quickly to the door and returned, holding by one hand my brother Frederick and by the other his young wife. I must admit it was a most anxious moment for me, as my father looked from me to his son and the woman who had been the cause of their long estrangement. My father's expression was by no means reassuring, and it needed all my courage to speak as I did.
"'Father,' I said with desperate resolution, 'yesterday you pledged your word as a soldier that you would give me two kisses for a Christmas box. I am here to claim the fulfilment of your promise.'
"For an instant he hesitated. Then, holding out both hands towards my brother, he exclaimed:
"'Frederick! My son!'
"'Father!' and they were locked in each other's embrace.
"Turning to where Mary stood, with her two little ones at her side, my father said with deep emotion:
"'I know now that Maggie's Christmas-box was intended for you. If my white moustache doesn't frighten you, come!"
"She threw herself into his arms, and he imprinted two big, sounding kisses on her cheeks. 'Maggie's gift, my dear—and mine!'
"Mary cried, but her tears were tears of joy and thankfulness. I rather fancy, indeed, everybody cried a little, but my father pretended to blow his nose violently, and turned the matter off by taking Mary's hand, and conducting her to the place of honour at the head of the table. And never was there assembled together a happier Christmas party than was gathered that day around my father’s festive board."
As the old lady spoke these words a loud rat-a-tat-tat! came at the street door.
"Brother Richard!" we all shouted, in unison.
"And that," said grandma, "is the end of my story."