Reactions-A Domestic Romance

== REACTIONS ==
A Domestic Romance, 
=== by J. J. Bell ===
Published in Chambers's Journal 1903
“Half-past nine, sir," said Professor Bennett's housekeeper, opening the parlor door and depositing his coat and hat on the chair nearest it, as was her custom on five mornings out of the seven. 
" Ah!" exclaimed the Professor, starting, and folding up the letter which he had been reading for the fourth or fifth time; "is it so late, Mrs. Leslie?" he said, with an almost guilty look. His breakfast lay before him cold and untasted, and his morning paper had not been opened. 
Mrs. Leslie wondered what was wrong, but merely remarked as she retired, "You will need your coat and muffler to-day, sir. It is bitterly cold." 
"Thank you,"he returned, as he rose from the table. Sitting down in an easy chair by the fireside, he kicked off his slippers and lifted his boots from the fender. "Twenty years," he muttered; "twenty years since I saw her last, and — I'm still a fool I" He drew on his boots rather savagely and tugged impatiently at the laces. One of them snapped, and, with sundry boyish grimaces, he tied the ends in a clumsy knot. Presently he looked at his watch, then at his pipe-rack, shook his head ruefully, rose to his feet, gulped down a cup of cold tea, donned his coat and hat and hurried from the house. He had to meet his junior chemistry class at ten o'clock. 
Mrs. Leslie, after the maid had removed the breakfast things, came into the parlor to do what she called "a little tidying-up." The Professor's slippers were sprawling on the hearth-rug, and she picked them up, placed one within the other, and laid them on a hassock at the side of the mantelpiece within reach of the easy-chair. The morning paper and several circulars and catalogues of second-hand books she transferred from the breakfast table to a shelf also close to the easy-chair; after which she proceeded to dust the overmantel and the various objects thereon, and to put the furniture straight. 
"Well," she said suddenly to herself, "if he hasn't gone off without his muffler I" With a sigh and a head-shake she removed the article of comfort from the chair on which it was lying, and left the room. She retired to her own apartment and sat down at a table covered with manuscripts in a villainous handwriting. Having selected a number of them, she laid a quire or two of ruled paper in front of her and took up a pen. During the last two years she had done a good deal of copying work for her employer, who had some oldfashioned objections to typewriters, and who, somehow, was glad of an excuse for paying his housekeeper a higher wage than she had originally bargained for. 
Mrs. Leslie was the widow of a doctor who had not lived long enough to make more than a bare living, and she had been left alone and practically penniless before she was thirty. Her relations were kindly disposed but poor; and as soon as possible she decided to take a situation. She was recommended to Professor Bennett, who at that time had an invalid sister living with him. The invalid took a fancy to the young widow and begged her brother to engage her,which the Professor did, in spite of the chaff of some of his bachelor friends. Two years later Miss Bennett underwent an operation, and recovered health and strength; but instead of insisting on superintending her brother's domestic affairs, she fell in love with an old and faithful admirer, and left the former to what she secretly considered an exceedingly happy fate. In a word, she felt that her brother could not do better than wed his housekeeper. It was well, however, that she never even hinted at such a thing to the Professor. At forty-three he still cherished, somewhat dutifully perhaps, the memory of a woman who had cruelly fooled him when he was twenty years younger; and though after his sister's departure he began to realize that Mrs. Leslie was both a clever and a pretty woman, the idea of trying to forget the past never occurred to him, and his life was almost entirely devoted to his scientific work. He received few visitors, and the disagreeable observations of "kind friends" regarding his retaining such a "young person" in the position of housekeeper did not reach his ears. But with Mrs. Leslie it was different. 
As she sat at the writing-table with the Professor's manuscripts before her and the first dip of ink drying on her pen, she told herself that she wished she had resigned her situation immediately after Miss Bennett's marriage. "What a fool I am!" she" thought. "I've shilly-shallied for nearly a year; but I've made up my mind to tell him now. I don't suppose I'll ever get another house so nice and easy as this; but, heigh-ho! that has nothing to do with it. I wonder if he'll be annoyed at my leaving. I know he hates changes. And what on earth was the matter with him this morning? He never touched his breakfast, poor man! I must get him something more tempting than a steak for dinner." And Mrs. Leslie fell to considering a dainty dish to set before a scientist. 
Meantime Professor Bennett was addressing his class of first-year medicals, light-hearted but heavy-soled young men, ever on the alert for an incident over which they might create a disturbance. As a rule the Professor had his audience well in hand, and provided them with little cause for riotous behavior; but this morning he was obviously nervous, and he signalized his entrance into the lecture-room by dropping his roll-book. This very slight accident was hailed by the budding medicals with mingled murmurs of sympathy and expostulation. "Dear, dear!" "Tut, tut!" and other ejaculations came from the benches — principally the back ones; while several students raised their voices in mock protest and called for "Order!" The Professor kept his temper, though he found it harder to do so than usual, and went on to call the roll, after which he opened the business of the hour. Mercury was the subject of the lecture, and for about thirty minutes the class graciously pleased itself to be interested in the remarks and experiments which were delivered and shown without hesitation or hitch. Then the Professor, who was less interested in his work than usual, tripped in a very simple fashion. 
"Another vividly colored salt of mercury is the iodide — mercuric iodide. We may prepare it thus. Here we have a solution of mercuric chloride." The Professor felt for and lifted a bottle, and poured a little of its colorless contents into a beaker of water, which he set on the bench in front of him. "We now add a few drops of an iodide — let us take potassium iodide" — he held up another bottle of colorless liquid, and tilted it over the beaker. "The mercuric iodide," he continued, looking at his audience, "is formed as a yellow precipitate which changes presently to a brilliant scarlet." 
At this point several members of the class began to snigger and shuffle their feet. 
" A yellow precipitate which quickly changes to a brilliant scarlet. You can see — " 
The giggling and shuffling increased. 
" Gentlemen !" said the Professor mildly. 
The class was now in vocal and pedal convulsions. 
" Gentlemen !" exclaimed the Professor sharply. He glanced at the beaker. The liquid was clear as crystal. The class roared at the discomfiture. 
"Gentlemen, I made a mistake; hence the reaction has not taken place. I took too much for granted," he said, trying to smile, but feeling that his face was pale. "One moment, please." He was nervous and annoyed at his blunder. 
But the class had lost its head and found its voice and feet. It was seldom such an opportunity occurred in the chemistry lecture room. 
"Gentlemen!" exclaimed the Professor, losing his temper. 
The noise was redoubled. 
"Gentlemen!" 
Singing was added to the horrors of the disturbance. 
" I withdraw the expression," shouted the Professor. " Infants!" And he walked swiftly from his desk and out of the lecture-room. He told his assistants in the laboratory that he was feeling unwell, and set out for home. 
Mrs. Leslie was surprised at his early return, and when she heard him shut his study door with a vicious crash she felt sure that something serious was the matter. She left her writing and went into the kitchen. Ten minutes later she knocked at the study door. 
"Come in," said Professor Bennett. He was sitting at his desk, and as his house keeper entered he accidentally swept a sheet of paper to the floor. Where the sheet of paper had been Mrs. Leslie saw the faded photograph of a girl and a soiled glove. 
"I've put some soup in the parlor, sir," she said, looking out of the window. 
"I — I don't think I want anything, Mrs. Leslie," he stammered. 
"You had so little breakfast, sir." 
"Well, well, I'll go into the parlor in a minute. It' was very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Leslie," he added, feeling a trifle comforted. 
His housekeeper withdrew. "I meant to tell him about my leaving, but — " she began, and stopped with a sigh. "I wonder if she's dead?" she thought presently. "It was an old-fashioned photograph. Poor fellow !" 
The Professor placed the glove and likeness in his breast pocket, locked up his desk, and removed himself to the parlor. There he partook of the soup and a glass of sherry, which cheered him physically if not mentally. He filled and lit his pipe and rang the bell. The maid answered it, and he requested her to ask Mrs. Leslie to come to him. She appeared shortly, her hands full of papers. 
"I haven't quite finished them," she began. 
"There's no hurry, Mrs.. Leslie, no hurry. I merely wished to thank you for the excellent soup. You evidently know what I require better than I do myself." 
The lady colored slightly. "You don't take much care of yourself, sir," she murmured. 
"H'm! Er — I was worried this morning, Mrs. Leslie, and I am sorry to say I had a scene with my class." He knew not what possessed him to tell her that, but immediately he had done so he felt the confession had soothed the soreness of his spirit. "I — I believe I lost my temper abominably," he continued. " The boys were certainly aggravating, but — " He paused and smiled in a shamed manner. 
" I was sure you were not feeling quite yourself this morning, sir," said Mrs. Leslie surprised, but not displeased at receiving his confidence. "When would you like lunch, sir?" 
"Oh, I don't want any lunch now. But you might make dinner an hour earlier. I — I shall be out most of the afternoon," he said, his clean-shaven face reddening. 
"Very good, sir. And I shall have the copying finished by the evening. Is there anything else, sir?" 
"No — yes! You might telephone to Mr. Brand at the laboratory, and tell him I shall take the classes as usual to-morrow." 
"Very good, sir," said Mrs. Leslie, moving to the door. 
" I wish you " began the Professor. " No ; it's nothing, Mrs. Leslie," he added quickly. "I wish she wouldn't call me 'sir,'" he said to himself a moment later. "It's so unfriendly. Perhaps I'm getting a little unconventional in my old age! But I don't know what I'd do without Mrs. Leslie." He relit his pipe and sighed. 
Presently he put his hand in his breast pocket and drew out the photograph, which had lain in his desk for twenty years, and also the letter which he had received that morning. On the back of the card was written "Lily Warden;" the letter was signed "Lily Beckenham." 
" I wonder what she wants me to help her in," he muttered. "I suppose she has changed a bit in twenty years. Her husband is dead, and she has a grown-up daughter. Well, well! Strange! I'm almost afraid to meet her again. I believe I was beginning to forget, and now Bah! I'm a fool!" 
At half -past three that afternoon Professor Bennett, in a condition of extreme nervousness, entered one of the private sitting rooms on the second floor of the Queen's Hotel." 
"Ah, Jim, is it really you?" said a faintly familiar voice. 
A mist came before the man's eyes. He had not been called "Jim" for twenty years, his sister preferring the more professorial James, as she termed it. 
" How — how do you do " He was going to say " Lily," but the mist cleared from his sight, and he said stumblingly, "Mrs. Beckenham?" 
The lady giggled a little foolishly, and invited her visitor to be seated.- The man's nervousness left him, and was succeeded by a great pity for the woman before him. Was this Lily — the Lily whose fair memory had haunted and tormented him through the best years of his life? Was this his beloved — this fat, giggling, overdressed, over-jeweled creature? Oh, it was cruel! 
She began to talk, and a commonplace conversation ensued. He listened to her account of herself listlessly, and answered her inquiries patiently, till at last he could bear it no longer. 
"You wanted my advice on some matter, Mrs. Beckenham?" he said gently. 
"Oh yes, Jim; but that can wait," she returned, with ponderous lightness. 
In desperation he looked at his watch. 
"It was about my daughter, Nora," she said, noticing the action and thinking to detain him. "She wishes to study medicine. I don't like the idea; but I thought T would consult you before making any decision.' ' 
"Er — a University Calendar might help you better than I can; it gives pretty full details. I'll see that you get a copy, Mrs. Beckenham." 
"Oh! thank you so much, Jim," she said gushingly. "But I hate reading about anything. Bring the Calendar with you, and explain it? When will you come and dine with us? We shall be here all this week and probably next week also." 
The Professor mumbled some wretched excuses about work that prevented him from deciding definitely at the moment, and it was finally arranged that he should write to her the following day and choose the evening which was convenient for himself. 
"Poor Jim/' sighed Mrs. Beckenham when she was alone, "he is just as shy as ever." 
"What a fool Pve been," groaned the professor as he left the hotel. But a moment later he laughed. "By Jupiter! I'm glad she asked me to go and see her this afternoon. Poor thing!" he added softly. 
He took a hansom home, and entered the house in high spirits. The first thing he did on reaching his study was to drop into the fire a letter, a photograph and a soiled glove. "Why didn't I do this twenty years ago?" he asked himself. He felt as if his heart had been swept and garnished. 
"Something has happened," thought Mrs. Leslie when she met him crossing the hall to dinner; and she retired to her room smiling sadly. 
The Professor appreciated the dainty meal, but wished — an uncommon desire for him — he had some one to talk to. 
Later in the evening Mrs. Leslie came to him in the study with his manuscript and her copy. She took her seat under the lamp at the writing table and read over her day's work so that he might check any errors. 
He lay back in his easy-chair enjoying a cigar, rather a rare form of tobacco for him to indulge in. "What a pleasant voice she has, to be sure!" he reflected lazily; and presently he began to watch her as she read, failing to notice several nonsensical blunders, due no doubt, in the first place, to his own bad writing. 
"Have I made no mistakes this time?" asked Mrs. Leslie in some surprise when she had completed her task. 
" Eh ?" said the Professor, as if roused from a dream. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Leslie. No; I think it is all quite correct; and I'm very much obliged to you." 
She laid down the papers and rose. He wished she would not go. 
"Sir," said Mrs. Leslie, and the word jarred the man disagreeably, "I — I would like to speak to you about — about " 
"Yes, Mrs. Leslie?" he said, wondering at her hesitation. 
"I — I am afraid I must leave you sir." It was hardly the speech she had prepared. 
"Ah, you have something to do this evening. I'm sorry I've kept you reading so long. Don't let me detain you, Mrs. Leslie." 
"But I mean — I mean leave you altogether," she stammered; "leave your house, sir." 
The cigar dropped from the Professor's fingers. "Leave me — leave my house, Mrs. Leslie?" he gasped. 
Mrs. Leslie could not speak at the moment ; but she picked up the cigar, which she saw was burning the carpet, and laid it on an ash tray at his elbow. "I am thinking of going to live in the country," she said, moving back to her position by the writing table. 
"The country? Where?" inquired the Professor. "I beg your pardon," he added quickly. " It's none of my business." A dismal idea possessed him; Mrs. Leslie was going to be married. 
"I don't think the town suits me, sir," said his housekeeper. 
It struck him that he had never seen her looking so well. There was a fine color in her cheeks. But he only said, "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Leslie." 
"I — I could wait till you get another housekeeper," she remarked, ending an uncomfortable pause. 
He looked up at her with a curiously wistful expression. 
"Thank you," he said slowly. "My sister is coming tomorrow to remain for a week. Perhaps you will talk over the matter with her, Mrs. Leslie/ 1 
"Very good, sir/' 
The Professor leapt to his feet. " For any sake don't call me 'sir, 9 ' 9 he cried, pale and trembling. 
She started and stared at him in amazement, speechless. A dead silence came between them. 
The man broke it. "Forgive me, please. I — I don't know what's wrong with me." Without a word she moved towards the door. He followed, and opening it for her, gravely bowed as she left the room. 
It was a long and miserable night for Professor Bennett. At five in the morning, unable to rest longer in his bed, he dressed and went down to the study, where for nearly three hours he paced the floor. About eight Mrs. Leslie, who never allowed the maid to enter the sanctum, opened the door, and was startled to find the room tenanted. 
"I quarreled with my sleep last night," said the Professor, with a poor smile. How fresh and pretty she looked! 
"It is too cold here, sir," said Mrs. Leslie, who carried a newspaper and a bundle of sticks. "Mary is cleaning the parlor this morning, and I was going to light the fire and lay your breakfast here." She crossed the room, knelt down on the hearthrug, and began to rake out the ashes. 
"I wish you wouldn't do that, Mrs. Leslie," he murmured, after watching her for a few minutes. Perhaps she did not hear him; at any rate she paid no attention, and soon the flames were rising through the wood and coal. She rose to her feet with the ash-pan in her hands. He strode forward, and before she knew what he was about he had taken it from her and laid it on the floor. 
"You must not do that," he said passionately. 
"Oh, sir!" she cried. 
He writhed at the word. "Sit down for a minute, please," he pleaded. "I want to speak to you, Mrs. Leslie." 
Something compelled her to obey. 
"You — you are leaving me for — or house of your own, are you not?" he asked awkwardly. "I — I should like to be allowed to — to furnish part of it — if — if your future" 
" Oh, stop! It's a mistake." 
" A mistake? You mean you are going to be housekeeper to some one else?" 
"Yes. I suppose so." 
"I thought you were going to be married, Mrs. Leslie." 
"No, sir." 
The Professor walked the length of the room and returned to the fire. "I must tell you," he said desperately. And thereupon he poured forth with a stammering tongue, the tale of his twenty-year-old love affair. "You would never have guessed such a thing of me?" he said sadly, in conclusion. 
" I knew it," returned Mrs. Leslie gently. She had forgotten he was her employer. "At least I had an idea that you cared very much for somebody." 
"That I imagined I cared for somebody," he muttered reddening. He dropped into a chair beside her, and she made as if to rise. "Mrs. Leslie," he said, "don't go just yet. I've something else to tell you." 
"I must see about your breakfast, sir." 
"Deuce take the breakfast!" 
"Oh!" But she could not repress a little smile. 
The little smile was like a tonic to the Professor. He looked bravely at her. "Let me tell you the plain truth, he whispered. "I don't want you to leave me, Mrs. Leslie, because — ah, because I can't do without you." 
There was no mistaking his meaning. She felt his eyes upon her, but she could not meet them. 
" My dear," he went on, laying a hand on hers, "could you think of — of caring for a stupid fellow like me?" 
Her head dropped lower in silence. 
"I — I think I must have loved you these last three years," he continued bashfully, "although I didn't realize it till last night. Can you believe that? I was thinking last night of what it would be to come into this house and not find you in it, and — and, my dear, I felt I — ah, no — I can't do without you." 
He waited in vain for her to speak. 
"Is there no hope for me?" he sighed. 
The longing in his voice told her more than his words could do. "Are you quite, quite sure?" she whispered. 
"Oh, you must believe me! Could I have told you my — my foolish story if I hadn't loved you — loved you enough to be entirely honest with you?" 
"It's so strange," she murmured. 
"Even if ypu don't care for me, I would wish to marry you," he cried. 
"But — but I do!" she replied, giving in at last. 
A knock at the door disturbed them. 
"Goodness me!" said Mrs. Leslie in confusion. "It's Mary with the breakfast things. I'll take them from her. Let me go, sir — I mean, James." 
"No, my dear; just let Mary come in. I may as well tell her," said the Professor recklessly. — "Come in, Mary!" he called, to Mrs. Leslie's dismay. 
The maid entered with a tray of dishes. "Please, Mrs. Leslie — " she began. 
"Oh, just lay the table yourself, Mary," said the Professor gaily. "Lay it for two." 
"Oh, James!" whispered his lady-love in protest. 
"Lay it for two. Mrs. Leslie is — er — going to marry me, Mary." 
"Lor'!" ejaculated Mary, and dropped the tray of dishes with a dismal crash. 
"Never mind, Mary," said the Professor calmly. "You're a good girl. Get some more dishes, and I'll gather up the mess." 
Mrs. Leslie sat down and laughed till she cried — cried with real tears, for it had been an exciting morning. This brought the Professor to his senses, and when breakfast was ready a comparatively staid but happy couple took their places at the table. 
The Professor arrived at the lecture-room two minutes late, and found a concert of discords proceeding. 
"Gentlemen," he said, holding up his hand and smiling pleasantly — "gentlemen, may I ask for another kind of harmony? I sincerely desire it, gentlemen." 
A round of cheers and then silence. The Professor placed a beaker of water in front of him. He picked up a bottle from his bench and scrutinized the label. "Mercuric chloride," he said as he poured a few drops into the water. "To obtain mercuric iodide," he went on; "I add potassium iodide and he picked up another bottle and examined the label. "Now"— he tilted the bottle — " we see the mercuric iodide come down as a yellow precipitate which quickly changes to a brilliant scarlet." 
There was an expectant hush, and then the class began to applaud vigorously. 
"Gentlemen, said the Professor, "the reaction has taken place, and a foolish mistake has been rectified." He smiled softly as he turned over a page of his lecture-book
Category:Bell
Category:Chamber's Journal
Category:Romance