Chapter Fifty Six. Mysterious Changes
Not many days had elapsed before I observed a sudden change in the conduct of Gallagher; not towards myself or my mother, but in his manner towards Virginia.
It was the day after I had held the conversation with her, that I first noticed this. I noticed at the same time that her manner towards him was equally altered.
The somewhat frosty politeness that had hitherto been observed between them, appeared to have suddenly thawed, and their old genial friendship to become reestablished on its former footing.
They now played, and sang, and laughed together, and read, and chattered nonsense, as they had been used to do in times past.
“Ah!” thought I, “it is easy for him to forget; he is but a friend, and, of course, cannot have the feelings of a brother. Little matters it to him what may be her secret relations, or with whom. What need he care about her improprieties? She is good company, and her winning way has beguiled him from dwelling upon that suspicion, which he must have entertained as well as myself. He has either forgotten, forgiven, or else found some explanation of her conduct that seems to satisfy him. At all events, I appear to have lost his sympathy, while she has regained his confidence and friendship.”
I was at first astonished at this new phase in the relations of our family circle – afterwards puzzled by it.
I was too proud and piqued to ask Gallagher for an explanation; and, as he did not volunteer to give one, I was compelled to abide in ignorance.
I perceived that my mother also regarded this altered behaviour with surprise, and also with a feeling of a somewhat different kind – suspicion.
I could guess the reason of this. She fancied that they were growing too fond of each other – that, notwithstanding he had no fortune but his pay-roll, Virginia might fancy the dashing soldier for a husband.
Of course my mother, having already formed designs as to the disposal of her daughter, could not calmly contemplate such a destiny as this. It was natural enough, then, she should look with a jealous eye upon the gay confidence that had been established between them.
I should have been glad if I could have shared my mother’s suspicions; happy if my sister had but fixed her affections there. My friend would have been welcome to call me brother. Fortuneless though he might be, I should have made no opposition to that alliance.
But it never entered my thoughts that there was aught between the two but the old rollicking friendship; and love acts not in that style. So far as Captain Gallagher was concerned, I could have given my mother assurance that would have quieted her fears.
And yet to a stranger they might have appeared as lovers – almost to any one except myself. They were together half the day and half the night: they rode together into the woods, and were sometimes absent for hours at a time. I perceived that my comrade began to care little for my company, and daily less. Stranger still, the chase no longer delighted him! As for duty, this he sadly neglected, and had not the “lieutenant” been on the ground, I fear the “corps” would have stood little chance of instruction.
As days passed on, I fancied that Gallagher began to relapse into a more sober method. He certainly seemed more thoughtful. This was when my sister was out of sight. It was not the air he had worn after our arrival – but very different.
It certainly resembled the bearing of a man in love. He would start on hearing my sister’s voice from without – his ear was quick to catch every word from her, and his eyes expressed delight whenever she came into the room. Once or twice, I saw him gazing at her with an expression upon his countenance that betokened more than friendship.
My old suspicions began to return to me. After all, he might be in love with Virginia?
Certainly, she was fair enough to impress the heart even of this adamantine soldier. Gallagher was no lady’s man – had never been known to seek conquests over the sex – in fact, felt some awkwardness in their company. My sister seemed the only one before whom he could converse with fluency or freedom.
Notwithstanding, and after all, he might be in love!
I should have been pleased to know it, could I only have insured him a reciprocity of his passion; but alas! that was not in my power.
I wondered whether she ever thought of him as a lover; but no – she could not – not if she was thinking of —
And yet her behaviour towards him was at times of such a character, that a stranger to her eccentricities would have fancied she loved him. Even I was mystified by her actions. She either had some feeling for him, beyond that of mere friendship, or made show of it. If he loved her, and she knew it, then her conduct was cruel in the extreme.
I indulged in such speculations, though, only when I could not restrain myself from dwelling upon them. They were unpleasant; at times, even painful.
I lived in a maze of doubt, puzzled and perplexed at what was passing around me; but at this time there turned up a new chapter in our family history, that, in point of mystery, eclipsed all others. A piece of information reached me, that, if true, must sweep all these new-sprung theories out my mind.
I learned that my sister was in love with Arens Ringgold– in other words, that she was “listening to his addresses!”