"But maybe none of it would have happened then;" with a rather wan smile.
"True enough! But you're not going to settledown in sober ways and wear hodden gray. And it's not as if you had been jilted by some gay gallant who had married another girl before your eyes as Christy Speers' lover did. And she found a much better man without any long waiting, for Everlom has never succeeded in anything and now he has taken to drink. Don't you suppose Christy is glad she missed her chance with him!"
"It won't be that way, though. I think now he will make a fine man and we shall hear nothing disgraceful about him, if we ever hear at all, which I pray may never come to pass. For I want to put it out of my mind like a story I have read with a bad ending."
"You are a brave girl, Daffodil."
"I don't know why I should be really unhappy. I have so many to love me. And it doesn't matter if I should never marry."
Mrs. Forbes laughed at that, but made no reply. Here was the young lieutenant, who was taking heart of grace again, though he did not push himself forward.
On the whole it was not an unhappy summer for Daffodil. She found a great interest in helping Felix though he was not a booky boy. Always his mind seemed running on some kind of machinery, something that would save time and labor.
"Now, if you were to do so," he would say to hisfather, "you see it would bring about this result and save a good deal of time. Why doesn't some one see——"
"You get through with your books and try it yourself. There's plenty of space in the world for real improvements."
Daffodil went up to the old trysting place one day. How still and lonesome it seemed. Had the squirrels forgotten her? They no longer ran up her arm and peered into her eyes. He was at Hurst Abbey and that arrogant, imperious woman was queening it as my lady. Was all this satisfying him?
It was the right thing to do even if his motives were not of the highest. To comfort his father in the deep sorrow, and there was his little son.
"No," she said to herself, "I should not want to come here often. The old remembrances had better die out."
She had written to her guardian explaining the broken marriage, and he wondered a little at the high courage with which she had accepted all the events. He had sent her a most kindly answer. And now came another letter from him.
There had been inquiries about leasing some property at Allegheny. Also there were several improvements to be made in view of establishing a future city. His health would not admit of the journey and the necessary going about, so he had decided to sendhis partner, Mr. Bartram, whom she must remember, and whom he could trust to study the interests of his ward. And what he wanted to ask now was another visit from her, though he was well aware she was no longer the little girl he had known and whose brightness he had enjoyed so much. He was not exactly an invalid, but now he had to be careful in the winter and stay in the house a good deal. Sometimes the days were long and lonesome and he wondered if out of the goodness of her heart she could spare him a few months and if her parents would spare her. Philadelphia had improved greatly and was now the Capitol of the country, though it was still staid and had not lost all of its old nice formality. Couldn't she take pity on him and come and read to him, talk over books and happenings, drive out now and then and be like a granddaughter as she was to his friend Duvernay?
"Oh, mother, read it," and she laid the letter in her mother's lap. Did she want to go? She had been so undecided before.
Bernard Carrick had received a letter also. Mr. Bartram was to start in a short time, as it seemed necessary that some one should look after Daffodil's estate and he wished to make her father co-trustee if at any time he should be disabled, or pass out of life. He could depend upon the uprightness and good judgment of Mr. Bartram in every respect. And he putin a very earnest plea for the loan of his daughter awhile in the winter.
"Oh, I should let her go by all means," declared Mrs. Forbes. "You see that unlucky marriage service has put her rather out of gear with gayeties and when she comes back she will be something fresh and they will all be eager to have her and hear about the President and Lady Washington. And it will cheer her up immensely. She must not grow old too fast."
Daffodil went to tea at Mrs. Ramsen's and there was to be a card party with some of the young men from the Fort. Mrs. Forbes and the captain were at tea and the Major's wife. They talked over the great rush of everything, the treasures that were turning up from the earth, the boats going to and fro. Booms had not come in as a word applicable to this ferment, but certainly Pittsburg had a boom and her people would have been struck dumb if the vision of fifty or a hundred years had been unrolled. Lieutenant Langdale came in to the card playing. They really were very merry, and he thought Daffodil was not so much changed after all, nor heartbroken. He was very glad. And then he asked and was granted permission to see her home. He wanted to say something sympathetic and friendly without seeming officious, yet he did not know how to begin. They talked of his mother, of Archie and how well he was doing.
"And at times I wish I had not enlisted," he remarkedin a rather dissatisfied tone. "Not that the feeling of heroism has died out—it is a grand thing to know you stand ready at any call for your country's defence, but now we are dropping into humdrum ways except for the Indian skirmishes. And it gets monotonous. Then there's no chance of making money. I didn't think much of that, it seemed to me rather ignoble, but now when I see some of those stupid fellows turning their money over and over,—and there's that Joe Sanders; do you remember the wedding feast and his going off to Cincinnati with his new wife, who was a very ordinary girl?" and Ned gave an almost bitter laugh. "Now he owns his boat and is captain of it and trades all the way to New Orleans."
"Oh, yes." She gave a soft little laugh as the vision rose before her.
"I remember how sweet you looked that night. And I had to be dancing attendance on her sister. How many changes there have been."
"Yes; I suppose that is life. The older people say so. Otherwise existence would be monotonous as you said. But you did admire military life."
"Well, I like it still, only there seem so few chances of advancement."
"But you wouldn't want real war?"
"I'd like an opportunity to do something worth while, or else go back to business."
If she had expressed a little enthusiasm about that he would have taken it as an interest in his future, but she said—
"You have a very warm friend in Captain Forbes."
"Oh, yes;" rather languidly.
Then they talked of the improvements her father had made in the house. There had been two rooms added before the wedding. And the trees had grown so, the garden was bright with flowering shrubs.
"I wonder if I might drop in and see you occasionally," he said rather awkwardly, as they paused at the gate. "We used to be such friends."
"Why, yes;" with girlish frankness. "Father takes a warm interest in you two boys."
Her mother sat knitting. Barbe Carrick hated to be idle. Her father was dozing in his chair.
"Did you have a nice time, little one?"
"Oh, yes. But I am not an enthusiastic card player. I like the bright bits of talk and that leads to carelessness;" laughing. "Mrs. Remsen is charming."
Then she kissed them both and went her way.
"She is getting over her sorrow," admitted her father. "Still I think a change will be good for her, only we shall miss her very much."
"She has been a brave girl. But it was the thought of his insincerity, his holding back the fact that would have rendered him only the merest acquaintance. She has the old French love of honor and truth."
"And the Scotch are not far behind."
Lieutenant Langdale tried his luck one evening. Mr. Carrick welcomed him cordially, and Felix was very insistent that he should share the conversation. He wanted to know about the Fort and old Fort Duquesne, and why the French were driven out. Didn't they have as good right as any other nation to settle in America? And hadn't France been a splendid friend to us? And why should the French and English be continually at war?
"It would take a whole history to answer you and that hasn't been written yet," subjoined his father.
Ned had stolen glances at the fair girl, who was sitting under grandmother Bradin's wing, knitting a purse that was beaded, and she had to look down frequently to count the beads. Yes, she had grown prettier. There was a fine sweetness in her face that gave poise to her character. Had she really loved that detestable Englishman?
They made ready for Mr. Bartram. Not but what there were tolerable inns now, but taking him in as a friend seemed so much more hospitable. Daffodil wondered a little. He had not made much of an impression on her as a girl. Sometimes he had fallen into good-natured teasing ways, at others barely noticed her. Of course she was such a child. And when the talk that had alarmed her so much and inflamed her childish temper recurred to her she laughed with asense of wholesome amusement. She knew now a man must have some preference. The old French people betrothed their children without a demur on their part, but here each one had a right to his or her own most sacred feelings.
Mr. Bartram was nearing thirty at this period. Daffodil felt that she really had forgotten how he looked. He had grown stouter and now had a firm, compact figure, a fine dignified face that was gentle and kindly as well, and the sort of manliness that would lead one to depend upon him whether in an emergency or not.
Her father brought him home and they all gave him a cordial welcome for M. de Ronville's sake first, and then for his own. He had the refined and easy adaptiveness that marked the true gentleman.
They talked of the journey. So many improvements had been made and towns had sprung up along the route that afforded comfortable accommodations. Harrisburg had grown to be a thriving town and was the seat of government. He had spent two very entertaining days within its borders.
"Yes, M. de Ronville was in failing health, but his mind was clear and bright and had gone back to the delights and entertainments of his early youth. He had a fine library which was to go largely to that started in the city for the general public. He kept a great deal of interest in and ambition for the city that had been a real home. Through the summer hetook many outside pleasures, but now the winters confined him largely to the house.
"I do what I can in the way of entertainment, but now that I have all the business matters to attend to, I can only devote evenings to him and not always those, but friends drop in frequently. He has been like a father to me and I ought to pay him a son's devotion and regard, which it is not only my duty, but my pleasure as well. But he has a warm remembrance of the little girl he found so entertaining."
"Was I entertaining?" Daffodil glanced at him with a charming laugh. "Everybody, it seems, was devoted to me, and my pleasure was being consulted all the time. Mrs. Jarvis was so good and kindly. And Jane! Why, it appears now as if I must have been a spoiled child, and spoiled children I have heard are disagreeable."
"I do not recall anything of that. And Jane is married to a sober-going Quaker and wears gray with great complacency, but she stumbles over the thees and thous. Our new maid is very nice, however."
"Oh, that is funny. And Jane was so fond of gay attire and bows in my hair and shoulder knots and buckles on slippers. Why, it is all like a happy dream, a fairy story," and her eyes shone as she recalled her visit.
They still kept to the old living room, but now there was an outside kitchen for cooking. And somelogs were piled up in the wide fire-place to be handy for the first cold evening.
"M. de Ronville talked about an old chair that came from France," Mr. Bartram said as he rose from the table. "His old friend used to sit in it——"
"It's this," and Daffodil placed her hand on the high back. "Won't you take it? Yes, great-grandfather used it always and after he was gone I used to creep up in it and shut my eyes and talk to him. What curious things you can see with eyes shut! And I often sat here on the arm while he taught me French."
"I suppose it is sacred now?" He looked at it rather wistfully.
"Oh, you may try it," with her gay smile. "Father has quite fallen heir to it. Grandfather Bradin insists it is too big for him."
"I'm always wanting a chair by the light stand so that I can see to read or make fish-nets," said that grandfather.
The room was put in order presently and the ladies brought out their work. Daffodil saw with a smile how comfortably the guest adapted himself to the old chair while her father talked to him about the town and its prospects, and Allegheny across the river that was coming rapidly to the attention of business men. What a picture it made, Aldis Bartram thought, and, the pretty golden-haired girl glancing up now and then with smiling eyes.
Mr. Carrick convoyed his guest around Pittsburg the next day, through the Fort and the historical point of Braddock's defeat, that still rankled in men's minds. A survey of the three rivers that would always make it commercially attractive, and the land over opposite. Then they looked up the parties who were quite impatient for the lease which was to comprise a tract of the water front. And by that time it was too late to go over.
"Well, you certainly have a fair prospect. And the iron mines are enough to make the fortune of a town. But the other is a fine patrimony for a girl."
"There was no boy then," said Bernard Carrick. "And she was the idol of great-grandfather. She does not come in possession of it until she is twenty-five and that is quite a long while yet."
They discussed it during the evening and the next day went over the river with a surveyor, and Bartram was astonished at its possibilities. There were many points to be considered for a ten years' lease, which was the utmost M. de Ronville would consent to.
Meanwhile Aldis Bartram became very much interested in the family life, which was extremely simple without being coarse or common. Yet it had changed somewhat since M. de Ronville's visit.
"And enlarged its borders," explained Daffodil. "There are three more rooms. And now we have all windows of real glass. You see there were board shutters to fasten tight as soon as cold weather came, and thick blankets were hung on the inside. And now we have a chimney in the best room and keep fire in the winter, and another small one in the kitchen."
"It is this room I know best. It seems as if I must have been here and seen your great-grandfather sitting here and you on the arm of his chair. I suppose it was because you talked about it so much."
"Oh, did I?" she interrupted, and her face was scarlet, her down-dropped eyelids quivered.
"Please do not misunderstand me. M. de Ronville was very fond of your home descriptions and brought them out by his questions. And you were such an eager enthusiastic child when you chose, and at others prim and stiff as a Quaker. Those moods amused me. I think I used to tease you."
"You did;" resentfully, then forgiving it.
"Well, I beg your pardon now for all my naughty ways;" smiling a little. "What was I saying? Oh,you know he brought home so many reminiscences. And he loves to talk them over."
"And bore you with them?"
"No; they gave me a feeling of going through a picture gallery and examining interiors. When I see one with a delicate white-haired old man, it suggests Mr. Felix Duvernay. I had a brief journey over to Paris and found one of these that I brought home to my best friend and I can not tell you how delighted he was. And because we have talked it over so much, this room had no surprises for me. I am glad to find it so little changed."
"We are—what the papers call, primitive people. It seemed queer and funny to me when I came back. But the ones I love were here."
She paused suddenly and blushed with what seemed to him uncalled for vividness. She thought how she had been offered to him and he had declined her. It was like a sharp, sudden sting.
"I'm glad you don't——" Then she stopped short again with drooping eyes. The brown lashes were like a fringe of finest silk. How beautiful the lids were!
"Don't what?" It was a curious tone, quite as if he meant to be answered.
"Why—why—not despise us exactly, but think we are ignorant and unformed;" and she winked hard as if tears were not far off.
"My child—pardon me, you brought back the littlegirl that came to visit us. I do not think anything derogatory. I admire your father and he is a man that would be appreciated anywhere. And your grandparents. Your mother is a well-bred lady. I can find queer andoutrépeople not far from us at home, all towns have them, but I should not class the Carricks nor the Bradins with them."
"Grandad is queer," she admitted. "He is Scotch-Irish. And Norry is Irish altogether, but she's the dearest, kindliest, most generous and helpful body I know. Oh, she made my childhood just one delightful fairy story with her legends and her fun, and she taught me to dance, to sing. I should want to strike any one who laughed at her!"
"Do you remember Mistress Betty Wharton?" His tone was quite serious now. "She was one of the favorites of our town. And she was charmed with you. If you hadn't been worthy of taking about, do you suppose she would have presented you among her friends and paid you so much attention? She considered you a very charming little girl. Oh, don't think any one could despise you or yours. And if you could understand how M. de Ronville longs for you, and how much pleasure another visit from you would give him, I do not think you would be hard to persuade."
He had laid the matter before her mother, who had said as before that the choice must be left with her.
He and Felix had become great friends. The boy's insatiable curiosity was devoted to really knowledgeable subjects, and was never pert or pretentious.
When he decided, since he was so near, to visit Cincinnati, Felix said—
"When I get to be a man like you, I mean to travel about and see what people are doing and bring home new ideas if they are any better than ours."
"That is the way to do. And the best citizen is he who desires to improve his own town, not he who believes it better than any other. Now, do you suppose your father would trust you with me for the journey? I should like to have you for a companion."
"Would you, really?" and the boy's face flushed with delight. "Oh, I am almost sure he would. That's awful good of you."
"We'll see, my boy."
"If you won't find him too troublesome. I meant to take him on the journey some time when urgent business called me thither. You are very kind," said Bernard Carrick.
"You see you're not going to have it all," Felix said to Daffodil. "I just wish you had been a boy, we would have such fun. For another boy isn't quite like some one belonging to you."
The child was in such a fever of delight that he could hardly contain himself. His mother gave himmany cautions about obeying Mr. Bartram and not making trouble.
"Oh, you will hear a good account of me;" with a resolute nod.
Meanwhile the business went on and papers were ready to sign when the two enthusiastic travellers returned. Mr. Carrick was to be joint trustee with Mr. Bartram in Daffodil's affairs.
"It is a pity we cannot take in Felix as well," Mr. Bartram said. "He will make a very earnest business man, and I look to see him an inventor of some kind."
Felix had been wonderfully interested in the model of William Ramsey's boat forty years before of a wheel enclosed in a box to be worked by one man sitting in the end, treading on treadles with his feet that set the wheel going and worked two paddles, saving the labor of one or two men. It was to be brought to perfection later on.
Meanwhile Daffodil and her mother discussed the plan for her visit. It would last all winter. Could they spare her? Did she want to stay that long? Yet she felt she would like the change to her life.
There was another happening that disturbed her not a little. This was Lieutenant Langdale's visit. When he came in the evening the whole family were around and each one did a share of the entertaining. And if she took a pleasure walk she always asked some friend to accompany her. Mrs. Carrick was not averse toa serious ending. Daffodil had reached a stage of content, was even happy, but the unfortunate circumstance was rarely touched upon between them. It seemed as if she had quite resolved to have no real lovers. What if an untoward fate should send the man back again. The thought haunted the mother, though there was no possible likelihood of it. And her sympathies went out to the lieutenant.
If she went away, he would realize that there was no hope of rekindling love out of an old friendship. It would pain her very much to deny him.
They spoke of her going one evening, quite to his surprise.
"Oh," he said regretfully, "can you not be content here? I am sure they all need you, we all do. Mrs. Forbes will be lost without you. You are quite a star in the Fort society."
"In spite of my poor card-playing," she laughed.
"But you dance. That's more real pleasure than the cards. And we will try to have a gay winter for you. But after all we cannot compete with Philadelphia. I believe I shall try to get transferred from this dull little hole."
"I do not expect to be gay. The great friend I made before married and went to Paris. And M. de Ronville is an invalid, confined mostly to the house during the winter. I am going to be a sort of companion to him. He begs so to have me come."
Archie would be there. A sudden unreasoning anger flamed up in his heart and then dropped down to the white ashes of despair. Was there any use caring for a woman who would not or could not care for you? There were other girls——
"You have really decided to go?" her mother said afterward.
"Oh, I hate to leave you." Her arms were about her mother's neck. "Yet for some things it seems best. And the old story will be the more easily forgotten. I may make it appear of less importance to myself. It has grown quite dreamlike to me."
"Yes," answered the mother under her breath.
So the fact was accepted. "You will never regret giving a few months to an old man near his journey's end," said Mr. Bartram. "And I am very glad for his sake."
Then preparations were made for the journey.
"You must not want for anything, nor be dependent on your good friend," said her father. "And have all the pleasures you can. Youth is the time to enjoy them."
It gave them a heartache to let her go. Mrs. Craig wished she could be her companion again, but she was too old to take such a journey. And now travelling was a more usual occurrence, and she found two ladies who were going to Harrisburg, and who had travelled a great deal, even been to Paris. Aldis Bartram wasmuch relieved, for he hardly knew how to entertain a being who was one hour a child and the next a serious woman. The last two years he had sought mostly the society of men. There were many grave questions to discuss, for the affairs of the country were by no means settled.
It was a very pleasant journey in the early autumn. She enjoyed everything with so much spirit and delight, but she was never tiresomely effusive. The ladies had come from New Orleans and were full of amazement at the rapid strides the country was making, and the towns that were growing up along the route. Their stay in Pittsburg had been brief and they were much amused at some of the descriptions of the earlier days the little girl could recall, the memories of the French great-grandfather, who had lived almost a hundred years, and grandad, who in his earlier years had been what we should call an athlete and was a master hand at games of all sorts. They were much in vogue yet, since there were no play-houses to draw people together for social enjoyment.
Mr. Bartram used to watch her with growing interest. Yes, she would be invaluable to M. de Ronville, and a great relief to him this winter. How had she so easily overlived the great blow of her wedding day! She was a very child then, and truly knew nothing about love.
"We shall be in Philadelphia sometime beforeChristmas," explained Mrs. Danvers, who was a widow. "We are thinking of settling ourselves there, or in New York, and we shall be glad to take up the acquaintance again. We have enjoyed your society very much, and truly we are indebted to Mr. Bartram for many favors that a maid is apt to blunder over. Women never get quite used to the rougher ways of the world."
"And I shall be glad to see you again," the girl said with unaffected pleasure. "I have enjoyed the journey with you very much."
How did she know just what to say without awkwardness, Mr. Bartram wondered.
The quiet street and the old house seemed to give her a cordial and familiar greeting. Mrs. Jarvis herself came to the door.
"Oh, my dear, we are so glad to have you back again," she cried with emotion. "But how tall you are! You are no longer a little girl."
"I have the same heart after all that has happened;" and though she smiled there were tears in her eyes.
A slow step came through the hall, and then she was held close to the heart of her guardian, who had longed for her as one longs for a child.
Yes, he was quite an old man. Pale now, with snowy hair and beard, and a complexion full of fine wrinkles, but his eyes were soft and tender, and had the glow of life in them.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "you still have the golden hair, and the peachy cheeks, and smiling mouth. I was almost afraid you had changed and grown grave. And your voice has the same ring. I am so thankful to your parents for sparing you again. And, Aldis, you must not mind me, for the business has fallen so behind that I shall not feel neglected if you go to the office at once. We will devote the evening to talk. Are you very tired with your journey?" That to Daffodil.
"No, it was so pleasant and entertaining, and some of it beautiful. Then I do not tire easily."
M. de Ronville held her hand as if he was afraid she might escape, and his longing eyes touched her very heart. But Mrs. Jarvis stepped up on the stairs, and giving him a tender smile, she followed.
Nothing had been changed. Why, she might have left it only yesterday.
As if Mrs. Jarvis had a similar thought about her she said, "My dear, you are just the same, only grown up."
"And everything here is the same. I am very glad; it is like home."
There was the pretty dark blue-and-white toilette set, where the blue looked as if somehow it had melted a little and run over the white. She smiled, thinking how she used to wonder about it.
"This is Susan, our new maid. Mr. Bartram mayhave told you that Jane was married. She has a good husband and a nice home. But Susan fills the place very well, and now she will wait upon you with pleasure," announced Mrs. Jarvis.
Susan courtesied and smiled. She was younger than Jane, a fresh, fair-looking girl, who had the appearance of having been scrubbed from top to toe.
"And now, when you are ready, come down to the library and have a cup of tea. Oh, I remember, you didn't care for tea, that's an old ladies' comfort. Well, there are other refreshing things that will stay you until supper. We have our dinner now in the middle of the day. M. de Ronville likes it better. Feel thoroughly at home, child."
Susan unpacked her belongings and put them in drawers and the spacious closet, where Daffodil thought they must feel lonesome.
She went downstairs presently, fresh and bright, having chosen her simplest frock, and tied her curls in a bunch behind, instead of putting them high on her head with a comb. On her pretty neck she wore the chain and pendant M. de Ronville had given her. She looked very sweet and youthful.
He motioned her to the sofa beside him.
"I understand how it is, that children and grandchildren keep one young," he began. "It is the new flow of life that vivifies the old pulses. And I advise all young men to marry;" smiling a little. "Afterawhile business loses its keen interest, and when you have made enough, why should you go on toiling and moiling? Then comes the time you want to take an interest in younger lives. And now tell me about your mother and father, who is prospering greatly, Aldis has written. And the little brother."
She was in full flow of eager talk when Susan brought in the tray with some tea and dainty biscuits, and golden-hearted cake, and Mrs. Jarvis followed her and drew up the little table.
"You see, I am quite pampered. I like a cup of tea at mid-afternoon, for the reason that it makes a break in a rather lonely time. I go out in the morning, when I can, but I take the garden and the porch in the afternoon, and in the evening friends drop in."
Daffodil had a glass of milk. There were some delightful sandwiches, and she was really hungry, as they had not stopped for much dinner at noon. And as she glanced around she saw more cases had been added, and were filled with books, and two or three paintings and beautiful vases. The room did have a cosy aspect, with some easy chairs that were just coming in for elderly people. Young people were expected to sit up straight.
Afterward they walked in the garden. There were choice late roses in bloom, and flowers she had never seen before. Smooth paths of sand beaten hard, herea way of fine white gravel that looked like a snowy ribbon between the green. How beautiful it was! This was what money and education and taste could do. Pittsburg was beginning to have the money, to prosper and boast, but all things seemed in a muddle, compared to this.
She was merry and sweet, and yet it did not seem to her as if it came from a true heart. Was she sorry she had come. Was not her place back there! Was it not her dutynotto outgrow Pittsburg, for there she must live her life out. And when she was an old lady there would be Felix, who would marry and have children growing up, true Duvernays, for he would take the name, not her husband.
When they went in the paper had come, and she read that to him. She had stepped so naturally into the old place. Susan began to arrange the table, Mr. Bartram came in looking really fagged out, but cordially attentive and chatty with the happenings.
It was a sort of high tea, and there was an air about everything different from their simplicity at home, but Mr. Bartram had adapted himself so readily to that. Was it out of kindly consideration?
"Now, I am going to dismiss you, my little dear," exclaimed the old man gently, "for I want to hear what Aldis has to say. And you have been very sweet and patient. Promise that you will not disappear in the night."
"Oh, I promise. I am not a bird that I could fly back in the night, and then I think only evil birds fly at that period."
He kissed her on the forehead. She sat on the porch awhile with Mrs. Jarvis, and then went to bed in the room that was sweet with rose and lavender. Well, so was her pillow at home. But it was so still here. Even the insects seemed to have modulated their shrillness. She buried her face in the softness and cried. Was she regretting the change? Was some gladness, some hope, lost out of her life, that could never come again?
It was bright morning when she woke. Even the very sun seemed to shine in gladness. Susan came, bringing her some water, and wished her good-morning. Yes, it should be a good morning and a good day.
They went to drive when the mists of the night had blown away. Oh, how gay everything looked! Stores had increased, beautiful buildings had gone up, and there was the President's residence. Lady Washington, as many people still called her, came out with her maid and her black servant, with a huge basket. There were others doing the same thing, for it was quite a fashion of the day, though some people were beginning to be waited on by the market men. Ladies in carriages and men walking or riding bowed to M. de Ronville, and wondered who the pretty girl besidehim could be. He quite enjoyed the surprised look they gave her.
Then he took a rest on the sofa, and begged her to tell him of the changes they had made in the house, and the boats her father was building, and what new industries had been started. And was grandad as bright and merry as ever? And the ignoble whiskey insurrection; the soldiers at the Fort!
Everything had so much interest for him, and the time passed so rapidly, that Mr. Bartram came home before they hardly thought of dinner. He asked with a smile if she was homesick yet, and although she shook her head with vague amusement, she wondered why she had cried last night? They had some bright talk and then M. de Ronville asked her if she did not want to go shopping with Mrs. Jarvis, who would like very much to have her. Mr. Bartram had brought some papers that must be looked over and signed. But she must not stay out too late for his cup of afternoon tea.
The shopping was really a great diversion. They met several people, who remembered her. And how funny it seemed to pay away so much money for an article, but then there seemed plenty of paper money.
Chestnut Street was gay with riders, both men and women, and some of the latter looked fine in their dark-green habits and gilt buttons. There were many promenading, dressed in the quaint style of the day,and not a few Friends in silvery-gray, with the close-fitting scuttle-shaped bonnets.
"I am so glad you have come," was Susan's greeting. "There are two ladies waiting to see you, Miss Daffodil, and M. de Ronville would make me bring in the tea for them."
"Oh, what are their names?" cried the girl eagerly.
"I was not to tell you;" and a smile lurked behind Susan's lips.
She ran upstairs and took off her hat and mantle, and came into the library wondering.
"Oh;" pausing to think for a moment. "It's Miss Pemberton, and—is it Belinda?"
"Oh, you haven't changed a bit, except to grow tall;" and Belinda almost hugged her. "But Mary is Mrs. Hassel, and has the darlingest little boy you ever saw. Oh, do you remember our party out on the lawn, and our picnic? I'm so glad you have come again. I'm the only girl home now;" and then Belinda blushed deeply.
"And Mr. de Ronville would have us share his tea. I've heard it's a kind of English fashion, which he ought not countenance, since he is French, I tell him," said Mrs. Hassel jestingly. "But it is delightful. I think I'll start it. A cup of tea seems to loosen one's tongue."
"Do women really need the lubrication?" asked M. de Ronville with a smile.
"Yes, they do. Think of three or four different women hardly knowing what to say to each other, and after a few sips of tea they are as chatty as you please. But I must say I was so delighted with his charming news that I would have waited until dark for the chance of seeing you."
"Oh, thank you;" and Daffodil blushed prettily.
"And we know a friend of yours, at least Jack does, a young doctor, who is going to be great some day, and who is from Pittsburg, Dr. Langdale."
"Oh, yes, I knew he was studying here."
"And he has made one or two remarkable discoveries about something or other. Dr. Rush considers him one of the coming men."
"I am very glad to hear that. Oh, we all seemed children together. And his older brother is a lieutenant at Fort Pitt."
"Can't he get a furlough? I'd like to see him," said Belinda gayly.
"He's tired of dull Fort Pitt, and was talking of getting exchanged. That isn't quite right, I believe; it sounds as if he was a prisoner."
"We must go," insisted Mrs. Hassel. "We will hardly have time for another call. M. de Ronville has been so fascinating."
"Oh, did I hold out a fascination?" mischievously.
"It was both," admitted Belinda. "And now we want to see ever so much of you. Mary, give us aregular tea party; she only lives round in Arch Street. And you will want to see the baby."
"Of course I will," said the young girl.
Then they made their adieus. Susan took away the tea-things.
"Was the shopping nice?" enquired her guardian.
"Oh, there are so many lovely things! I didn't mean to buy anything, you know, but we looked at such an elegant pelisse. Only everything costs so much!"
"Oh, economical little girl!"
"And the shopwoman would try on such a splendid white beaver that had just come in with a beautiful long plume and a white satin bow on top. Why, I felt as if I had just arrived from Paris!"
M. de Ronville leaned back and laughed. She looked so pretty and spirited, standing here. He could imagine her in the white beaver and handsome pelisse.
"How about the French?" he asked. "Have you forgotten it all?"
"Oh, no. Grandmere and I talk sometimes."
"We must have a little reading. Why,wecould talk as well. I sometimes get rusty."
"It was very nice of the Pembertons to remember me," she said reflectively.
"I had said you were likely to come, and they heard Mr. Bartram had returned. So they came at once."
She could see he was proud of the compliment paid her.
"Now, you are tired," he said. "I'll read the paper for myself."
"No, no." She took it away playfully. "When my voice gets shaky, you may ask me to stop;" and the mirth in her tone was good to hear.
How delightful it was to lean back comfortably and listen to the pleasant voice, with its subtle variations. Ah, if Aldis Bartram could have made sure of her in that other time, before she had learned to love and had her sorrow. And now he seemed to be settled in bachelor ways, and resolved to miss the sweetness of love and life.
"Aldis," he said, at the tea table, "do you know young Dr. Langdale?"
"In a way. He is not in my line, you know. A very promising young fellow. Were you thinking of trying him?"
"Oh, no. But he is from Pittsburg. The Hassels and Miss Pemberton seem to know him quite well. And he is a friend of Daffodil's."
"Oh, and is that lieutenant his brother?"
Daffodil blushed, though why, she could not have told, and she merely nodded.
"Mrs. Hassel seems to think very highly of him."
"He's made some sort of discovery—they had himat Dr. Rush's, and he is in a fair way to success. Score one for Pittsburg."
"But he has been studying here," rejoined Daffodil frankly.
The next day it rained, and rainy days seemed to affect M. de Ronville, but he hardly noted it. They read and talked French, and had a rather laughable time. And in the afternoon an old friend, Colonel Plumsted, came in to play chess, and Daffodil watched, much interested. Aldis was surprised to find his host in such good spirits when he returned.
Mrs. Hassel gave her tea party soon after. Daffodil met several old friends, who remembered the little girl. Belinda found time to impart the secret that she and Jack Willing were engaged, though she meant to have one good winter of fun before she was married. Jack seemed to be a nice, jolly fellow. And there was Anton Wetherell and Arthur Pemberton, and Arthur was asked to take her out to the supper table.
"Why, it's quite like old times to have you here again! Truly, I never thought of your growing up. You were always in my mind as a little golden-haired fairy that flashes about and then—do they return to the 'little folk'?"
"I haven't, you see. But I was not quite a fairy. And one grandfather used to call me Yellowtop." She laughed musically.
"One? How many grandfathers did you have?"
"I had three at one time, one in every generation. But the oldest one went away, and now there are only two."
"And I danced with you, I remember. I hope you haven't forgotten how. We have dancing parties, as well as tea parties. We are considered quite staid and sober-going people, but we young folks put in a good deal of fun. Bel's engaged, I dare say she told you, and I am the only solitary—shall I call myself a blossom? left on the parent stalk."
They both laughed at that. It takes so little to amuse young people.
"You'll have to go to one of Lady Washington's receptions, though in the whisper of confidence be it said they are rather stiff. There's the Norris house, that's the place for fun. The Norris girls find so many bright people, and they're not the jealous kind, but they make everybody shine."
Then Bel took her off to meet Miss Plumsted.
"I'm very glad to see you;" and Miss Plumsted's voice was honestly sweet. "Grandfather goes to play chess with M. de Ronville. He is your guardian, I believe. And now, are you going to live here?"
"Oh, no. I am here only on a visit. My parents and all my folks live at Pittsburg."
"Oh, that seems way out West. The Ohio River is there, and they go out to St. Louis and down to New Orleans. Is it a real city?"
"Not yet, but they are talking about it."
Then some one else came. Two or three of the young men dropped in during the evening, and there was some music on a flute and a violin. Altogether it was a very pleasant time, and Arthur Pemberton took her home and asked if he might not have the pleasure of calling occasionally.
She hardly knew what was proper. It seemed ungracious to say "no," so she answered that he might.
One of the quiet evenings, the two men were playing chess and Daffodil was watching them; Susan came in and said in her most respectful manner:
"A gentleman wishes to see Miss Carrick. Here is his card."
Daffodil took it and read, "Archibald Langdale, M.D."
"Oh," in a glad, girlish tone, "it's my old friend, Archie, that I haven't seen in ever so long. Dr. Langdale;" with a pretty assumption of dignity.
"Yes."
"And, uncle, you must see him. Not that I want you to accept him for a family physician, for really I don't know what he is like. He may be the veriest prig;" and she gave a dainty half laugh. "If he is spoiled it will be the fault of your city, he was very nice at Pittsburg. And you, too, Mr. Bartram."
"I have met the young man. I didn't see that he was much puffed up with his honors."
"Thank you." She made a fascinating courtesy. How pleased she was, he could see that.
"We will soon be through with the game. Yes, I'll come," said M. de Ronville.
She would hardly have known Archie. He stood up straight and he was quite as tall as Ned. He had filled out somewhat, though he was still rather thin, but his face had lost that deprecating expression, and had a clear notion not only of truth and honor, but of his own power as well. It was a tender face also, with the light in it that draws one unconsciously. The eyes seemed to have grown darker, but the hair was light as in boyhood.
"I am so glad to see you again;" and he took both hands in a warm clasp. "I couldn't wait until some accidental meeting, where you might kindly invite me for old friendship's sake."
"That would not have been worth while. I have heard about you, and I wondered if you had outgrown childish remembrances."
"You would bring them all back if I had. How little you have changed, except to grow tall. And now tell me about yours and mine. Once in a great while Ned writes, and mother doesn't seem to have the gift of chatty letters. Hers are mostly about my humble self,herson rather, and how he must avoid certain things and do other certain things, and not grow hard-hearted and irreligious and careless of his health;" smiling with a touch of tenderness. "So, you see, I do not hear much about the real Pittsburg."
"Oh, you would hardly know it now, there are so many changes, and so much business. New streets,instead of the old lanes, and the old log houses are fast disappearing. We are making real glass, you know, and there is talk of a paper mill. And nearly all the girls are married; the older ones, I mean. Families are coming in from the country, others go out to Ohio and Kentucky. Why, it is a whirl all the time."
"I'd like to see it and mother. I've planned to go several times, but some study or lectures that I couldn't miss would crop up. And it takes so much time. Why doesn't some one invent a quicker way of travelling? Now, if we could fly."
"Oh, that would be just splendid!" eagerly.
"I used to watch the birds when I was a boy, and flying seemed so easy for them. Now, why can't some one think up a pair of wings that you could slip on like a jacket and work them with some sort of springs, and go sailing off? I'm learning to put people together, but I never was any hand for machinery."
"Oh, think of it! A winged jacket;" and they both laughed gleefully.
Then M. de Ronville entered and expressed his pleasure at meeting the young man, who was already distinguishing himself, and who was an old friend of Miss Carrick.
"Not that either of you are very old," he commented smilingly.
Mr. Bartram he recalled. And certainly the generally quiet student talked his best. Was Daffodil a sort of inspiration? Was that one of the graces of early friendship?
He apologized presently for his long stay. He so seldom made calls, that he must plead ignorance of the correct length, but he had enjoyed himself very much. And then M. de Ronville invited him to drop in to tea. He would like to discuss some new medical methods with him.
"A very intelligent, well-balanced young man," the host remarked. "If the other one is as sensible, they are sons to be proud of."
"Their motherisproud of them, but their father would rather have had them in business," said Daffodil.
Belinda Pemberton was quite fascinated with Daffodil. "You are such a sweet, quaint, honest little thing," she said, "and you do make such delightfully naïve remarks. And Arthur declares you must have learned to dance in fairyland."
"I think I did," she returned gayly. "And I do love it so."
Then the little circle, and the wider one, had a fine surprise. Betty Wharton, now Madame Clerval, returned quite unexpectedly, as her husband had resigned his position.
"I had quite enough of Paris," she said to a friend."One wants an immense fortune to truly enjoy it. And somehow things seem shaky. Then, too, one does have a longing for home when one gets past youth."
So she opened her house and set up a carriage. Monsieur Clerval found himself quite in demand by the government, as the country needed a multitude of counsellors.
She came in to see M. de Ronville, who gallantly said she had renewed her youth, and begged for the secret.
"It is simply to keep young, to resolvenotto grow old;" with a gay emphasis.
"But time passes, my dear lady."
"And where is that pretty, golden-haired Daffodil?" she enquired.
The girl was summoned. Yes, she had outgrown childhood, but there was a delightful charm in her young womanhood.
"We were such friends—if you can remember so far back."
"And you were so good to me, and made everything so enjoyable. Wasn't I very ignorant?"
"You were very frank, and honest, and adaptable. So we must take up the old intimacy again. M. de Ronville, I shall drop in often and say, 'Lend me your daughter for this or that occasion.' Or is it your niece? And if some one falls in love with her youmust not scold me. Young men have eyes, and really, I am too kindly-hearted to throw dust in them."
Daffodil turned scarlet.
"Is it quite right to go about so much?" she said to M. de Ronville afterward, and the tone had a great uncertainty in it, while the curves of her pretty mouth quivered. "For you know——"
He drew her down beside him on the sofa.
"I thought some time we would talk it over—your unfortunate marriage, I suppose, comes up now and then to haunt you. Yet, it was fortunate, too, that the explanation came just as it did. I honestly believe it was an ignorant child's fancy. You were not old enough to understand real love. I think he could hardly have been a thorough villain, but an incident like this has happened more than once. And I truly believe you have overlived it."
She shuddered, and her eyes were limpid with tears. It was good to feel his friendly arm about her.
"It is like a dream to me, most of the time. And I think now, if he had made a passionate, despairing protest, it would have gone much harder with me. But it was right for him to go away when his father sent, and he was the next in succession to Hurst Abbey. And there was his child, his boy. I could never have been his true wife, but it hurt to be given up so readily, yet it was best. It gave me courage. And what if he had tired of me later on? They all helpedme to bear it. And there was the deception. For if he had told the truth, there might have been pity, but no love."
"It was a sad thing to happen. My heart ached for you. But you know, Daffodil, you never were a wife in the true sense of the word. You are quite free, you have always been free. And you must feel so. You must not carry about with you any uncertainty. It is something buried fathoms deep, that you need never draw up to the surface, unless in time to come you tell the story to the man you marry."
"I shall never marry," she returned gravely. "I have it all planned. Felix shall have the fortune, for what could a woman do with it in her own hands? And he has the name, he has only to leave off the Carrick. And it shall be my business to make every one as happy as I can. And if it is not wrong to take pleasure for myself—I do love joy and happiness, and I could not grieve forever, when I knew the thing I would grieve for was wrong."
There were tears dropping off the bronze lashes, but she was not really crying. He pressed her closer. There was an exquisite depth to her that did not often come to the surface.
"So you have it all planned for the years to come," he returned after a moment or two. "That is quite far off. Meanwhile you must have a good time withother young people. That will make me the happiest, if you care for me."
"Oh, indeed I do, indeed I do," she cried earnestly. Then, after quite a pause, she continued—
"I almost lost sight of what I wanted to ask. It was whether I ought to explain anything, whether it would be sailing under false colors when no one knew;" and she gave a tangled sort of breath that she would not allow to break into a sob.
"My dear child, there would be no use in explaining what could only be a matter of gossip. I think, nay, I am certain, Aldis and myself are the only ones who know, and if there had been any trouble I should have sent him to your assistance. I dare say, some of your friends and neighbors at home have wellnigh forgotten about it. And now, do not let it disturb you, but be as happy as God meant you should be, when He snatched you from the peril."
"Oh, thank you," she rejoined with a grateful emotion that he felt quiver through her slender body.
She wondered if she was too light-minded, too easily pleased. For every joyous thing seemed to come her way. The girls sought her out, the young men wanted to dance with her, and were willing to bore themselves going out to supper, if they knew she would be there. It was not because she was brighter or wittier than the others, or could think of more entertainingplays, but just that she seemed to radiate an atmosphere of happiness.
She did not give up all her time to pleasure. She drove with her guardian on pleasant days; he had left off riding now, but he sent her out occasionally with Mr. Bartram, lest she should get out of practice, he said. Then she read to him, or they took up French. She made merry over her blunders.
The autumn was long and warm. They sat in the garden in the sunshine, or walked up and down. Now and then he went to the office, when there were some important matters on hand.
Madame Clerval gave a dance after she had her house set in order. It might have been called a ball. It was mostly for the young people; she was just as fond of them as ever, and secretly admitted that she didn't enjoy prosy old people, who could talk of nothing but their pains and aches, and how fast the country was going to ruin.
"Do you think Mr. Bartram would consider it a nuisance to come for me?" she asked of her guardian, with a face like a peony.
"Why, no, child. Madame made quite a point of his coming. He is growing old too fast."
"Why, he isn't old," she said rather indignantly. "And you see—it's hard sometimes not to offend this one or that one, and if he is really coming, will you ask him to bring me home? Wouldn'tyouprefer it?"
"I think I would;" very gravely, though he wanted to smile.
Wetherell and Arthur Pemberton were pushing each other for her favors, and she tried to distribute them impartially.
The dance was a splendid success, and the dainty supper had a French air. Mr. Bartram came in just before that. Daffodil was engaged, of course. Madame provided him with a charming partner.
There was only a galop afterward. At private affairs it was not considered good taste to stay after midnight. Mr. Bartram made his way to Daffodil, and asked her if she was ready to go, and she nodded gracefully.
She looked so pretty as she came down the stairs, wrapped in something white and fleecy, smiling on this side and that.
"It was very enjoyable," he said, "at least to you young people. I'm not much of a dancer nowadays, so I didn't come early."
"It was just full of pleasure. Madame Clerval always plans admirably."
He smiled to himself. Most girls would have protested about his being late, even if they had not specially cared.
The young people took up the habit of calling in the evening, three or four of them, sometimes half a dozen. Mrs. Jarvis would send in some cake and nicehome-made wine, which was quite a fashion then. They made merry, of course.
"Dear uncle," she said one morning, it was raining so they couldn't go out, "didn't we disturb you last evening with our noise and laughter? I don't know why they are so eager to come here, and think they have a good time, for I am not as full of bright sayings as some of the girls. And if it annoys you——"
"My child, no. I lay on the sofa and listened to it, and it almost made me young again. I had no merry youth like that. Oh, am I coming to second childhood?"
His eyes were bright, and she thought she had never seen them so merry, save at first, when he had laughed at some of Felix's pranks. And his complexion was less pallid, his lips were red.
"Then second childhood is lovely. And you have grown so interested in everything. You don't get tired as you used. Are you real happy, or are you doing it just to make me happy?"
She gave him such a sweet, enquiring look, that he was touched at her solicitude.
"It is both, I fancy. You see, last winter I was ill and alone a great deal. I missed Betty Wharton, who was always flying in with some fun, or a bright story that had been told. Aldis had all the business to attend to, and sometimes wrote in the evenings. Time hung very heavy on my hands, and I began to thinkit was time for me to go hence. And by spring I had quite lost heart, though I began to crawl about a little. And I kept thinking how I should live through another dreary winter, and be half sick. It kept looming up before me. Then I thought I ought to settle something about your business when your father wrote concerning the lease. You came into my mind. I thought how brave you had been through that unfortunate time, and wondered if you would not like a change. I wanted some one to bring in the sunshine of youth, and you had spent so many of your years with elderly people, I thought you must have some art. I could make it pleasant for you, and the reflected light would brighten me. So I begged a little of your sweet young life."
"I am glad if it has made you happy," she said, much moved.
"It has given me new zest, it has made me almost well. True, I have had some twinges of my old enemy, rheumatism, but they have not been severe. I have not been lonely. There was some pleasure within my reach all the time. Oh, old people do want a little of the sun of youth to shine on them. And if you had no dear ones at home, I should keep you always, golden-haired Daffodil."
She took his hand in hers, so full of fresh young life. "And I should stay," she said.
"So, do not think your little merry-makings annoyme at all. I am glad for you to have them, and next day it is like reading a page out of a book, a human book that we are apt to pass by, and say we have no pleasure in it, but it is what we need, and what we want, down in our very heart of hearts, but often we are ashamed to ask for it."
It was true, he was much better. The house was losing its grave aspect. Jane had been used to flinging about wise old saws, and comparisons, and finding things to enjoy; Susan was quiet, falling into routine, and staying there until some new duty fairly pushed her out in another direction. She had no sense of humor or enthusiasm, yet she performed all the requirements of her place with ease and industry.
Mrs. Jarvis was just as kindly solicitous as ever, but intellectually there was a great gulf between her and M. de Ronville. She entertained whatever guests came with an air of precision, never forgetting she was a higher sort of housekeeper. She enjoyed the quiet of her own room, where she sewed a little, and read a good deal, the old-fashioned English novels, such as "Children of the Abbey," "Mysterious Marriage," "The Cottage on the Cliff," and stories of the latter half of the century. She thought it no part of a woman's business to concern herself with politics, she would have preferred living under a real King and nobility, but she accepted the powers that ruled, and stayed in her own little world, though she, as wellas M. de Ronville, enjoyed the stir and interest that Daffodil brought about.
After Madame Clerval came, there was more variety and gayety in Daffodil's life, and she helped to rouse M. de Ronville as well. Then came a reception at the Presidential mansion.
"Of course, you will go," Madame said to him, in her persuasive, yet imperious, manner. "We must not be a whit behind those New York people in the attention we pay our President. And one need not stay the whole evening through, you know. You will meet so many old friends. Come, I cannot have you getting old before your time."
"But I am an old man," he protested.
"In our new country we must not get old. It is to be the land of perennial youth," she answered gayly.
Aldis Bartram joined his persuasions as well, and M. de Ronville went almost in spite of himself. He had kept his delicate, high-bred air and French atmosphere, and looked well in the attire of that day, with his flowered waistcoat, his black velvet suit and silk stockings, with a jewelled buckle on his low shoes. His beautiful white hair was just tied in a queue, with a black ribbon. There was something dignified and gracious about him, and friends thronged around to congratulate him. And though he had seen Washington in many different phases of his eventful life, hehad not as yet met him as President of the nation he had fought for and cemented together.
There were handsomer girls than Daffodil; indeed, the fame of the beauties of Philadelphia in that day has been the theme of many a song and story. But she was very pretty in her simple white frock that in the fashion of the day showed her exquisite neck and shoulders, though the golden curls, tied high on her head, shaded and dazzled about it in a most bewitching manner. Madame Clerval was wise, she was not trying to outshine any of the belles, yet there was a bevy of young men about her constantly, and most devoted to her and to M. de Ronville, was Dr. Langdale. In fact, he was really the favorite visitor at the house. He ran in now and then with news of some new book, or some old translation, and a talk of the progress of the library and the trend of general education. Why should Boston have it all? Or a new medical discovery, though he was in no sense M. de Ronville's physician.
Was it strange that both these young people, having passed their childhood in Pittsburg, should come to a nearer and dearer understanding? Aldis Bartram watched them with the sense of a new revelation. Yet he could not subscribe to it cordially. The medical enthusiast was hardly the one he would choose for a girl like Daffodil. Arthur Pemberton would do better, yet he was not quite up to her mark. Shewas a simple seeming girl, yet he was learning that she had a great deal of character and sweetness. Somehow she kept herself curiously enfranchised from lovers. Her friendly frankness gave them a status it was difficult to overcome.
"I never expected to enjoy myself so much again," said M. de Ronville, when they were in the carriage. "It is an excellent thing to go on moving with the world, to keep in touch with the things that make up the sum of life, instead of feeling they belong to the gone-by time, and you have no interest in them."
How much like his olden self he was, Aldis Bartram thought. He wondered if he had been at fault in letting him drop down. There was much perplexing business, and he had hated to bother the elder man with it. Sometimes it seemed tedious to explain. Had he grown selfish in certain ways, preferring to take the burthen, rather than the trouble of sharing it with another? He had much personal ambition, he was in full earnest of a man's aims and life purposes. Yet it was this man who had helped him to the place whereon he stood, and it was not honorable to crowd him out under the plea that his best days were over.
It seemed, indeed, as if days fairly flew by, there was so much crowded in them. When the morning was fine, Daffodil insisted they should drive out. It was delightful to keep bowing and smiling to friends,with this attractive girl beside him. He went to some meetings of the Philosophical Society, and he took a new interest in the Library plans.
"You certainly have worked a transformation," Bartram said to Daffodil, when M. de Ronville consented to go to a concert with them, to hear two remarkable singers, who had come from abroad. "You will have to stay. Didn't I hear you discussing Pittsburg with Mrs. Jarvis?"
"Oh, they are longing for me to return. And in two days March will come in, that will be spring. And I was only to stay through the winter."
"But March is a cruel and deceitful travesty on spring. February has been too short."
"But they want me. And, yes, I want to see them all, and the garden, and the woods, and what new things have happened to Pittsburg. For there is something new coming in all the time."
Her face was so eager and full of happy interest.
"Well—I don't know what we shall do without you"; and the inflection of his voice was disconsolate. "I am afraid we shall fall back to the old routine. I am a busy man, you know, and have to shoulder a great many cares not really my own. Perhaps, too, I haven't the divine art of making a house bright, a woman's province."
"Oh, Mr. Bartram, I will tell you;" in a clear, earnest tone. "Why do you not marry, and bringsome one here to do it? There are so many charming girls, sometimes I feel quite unimportant and ignorant beside them."