CHAPTER XI.GUY AT HOME.Saturday came at last, a balmy September day, when all nature seemed conspiring to welcome the travelers for whom so extensive preparations were making at Aikenside. They were expected at about six in the afternoon, and just before that hour the doctor rode up to be in readiness to meet them. In the dining-room the table was set as Maddy had never seen it set before, making, with its silver, its china, and cut-glass, a glittering display. There was Guy’s seat as carver, with Agnes at the urn, while Maddy felt sure that the two plates between Agnes and Guy were intended for Jessie and herself, the doctor occupying the other side. Jessie would sit next her mother, which would leave her near to Guy, where he could see every movement she made. Would he think her awkward, or would he, as she hoped, be so much absorbed with the doctor as not to notice her? Suppose she should drop her fork, or upset one of those queer-looking goblets, more like bowls than anything else? It would be terrible, and Maddy’s cheeks tingled at the very thought of such a catastrophe. Were they goblets really, those funny colored things, and if they were not, what were they? Summoning all her courage, she asked the doctor, her prime counselor, and learned that they were the finger-glasses, of which she had read, but which she had never seen before.“Oh, must I use them?” she asked, in so evident distress that the doctor could not forbear a laugh as he told her it was not of the slightest consequence whether she used them or not, advising her to watch Mrs. Agnes, who wasau faitin all such matters.Six o’clock came, but no travelers. Then an hour went by, and there came a telegram that the cars had broken down and would not probably arrive until late in the night, if indeed they did till morning. Greatly disappointed, the doctor, after dinner, took his leave, telling the girls they had better not sit up. Consequently, at a late hour they both retired, sleeping so soundly as not to near the noise outside the house; the banging of doors, the setting down of trunks, the tramp of feet, Mrs. Noah’s words of welcome, one pleasant voice which responded, and another more impatient one which sounded as if its owner were tired and cross.Agnes and Guy had come. As a whole, Agnes’ season at Saratoga had been rather disagreeable. Guy, it is true had been exceedingly kind. She had been flattered by brainless fops. She had heard herself called “that beautiful Mrs. Remington,” and “that charming young widow,” but no serious attentions had been paid, no millionaire had asked to be her second husband. If there had, she would have said yes, for Agnes was not averse to changing her state of widowhood. She liked the doctor, but if he did not propose, and some other body did, she should accept that other body, of course. This was her intention when she left Aikenside, and when she came back, it was with the determination to raise the siege at once, and compel the doctor to surrender. She knew he was not wealthy as she could wish, but his family were the Holbrooks, and as she positively liked him, she was prepared to waive the matter of money. In this state of mind it is not surprising that the morning of the return home she should listen with a troubled mind to Jessie’s rather exaggerated account of the number of times the doctor had been there, and the nice things he had said to her and Maddy.“He had visited them ever so much, staying ever so long. I know Maddy likes him; I do, anyway,” Jessie said, never dreaming of the passion she was exciting, jealousy of Maddy, hatred of Maddy, and a desire to be revenged on a girl whom Dr. Holbrook visited “ever so much.”What was she that he should care for her? A mere nothing—a child, whom Guy had taken up. Pity there was a Lucy Atherstone in the way of his making her mistress of Aikenside. It would be a pretty romance, Guy Remington and Grandpa Markham’s grandchild. Agnes was nervous and tired, and this helped to increase her anger toward the innocent girl. She would take immediate measures, she thought, to put the upstart down, and the sight of Flora laying the cloth for breakfast suggested to her the first step in teaching Maddy her place.“Flora,” she said, “I notice you are arranging the table for four. Have we company?”“Why, no, ma’am; there’s Mr. Guy, yourself, Miss Jessie, and Miss Clyde,” was Flora’s reply, while Agnes continued haughtily: “Remove Miss Clyde’s plate. No one allows their governess to eat with them.”“But, ma’am,” and Flora hesitated, “she’s very pretty, and ladylike, and young; she has always eaten with Miss Jessie and Dr. Holbrook when he was here. He treats her as if she was good as anybody.”In her eagerness to serve Maddy and save her from insult, Flora was growing bold, but she only hurt the cause by mentioning the doctor. Agnes was determined now, and she replied:“It was quite right when we were gone, but it is different now, and Mr. Remington, I am sure, will not suffer it.”“Might I ask him?” Flora persisted, her hand still on the plate.“No,” Agnes would attend to that, and also see Miss Clyde. All Flora had to do was to remove the plate, which she finally did, muttering to herself: “Such airs! but I know Mr. Guy won’t stand it.”Meantime Maddy had put on her prettiest delaine, tied her little dainty black silk apron, Mrs. Noah’s gift, and with the feeling that she was looking unusually well, started for the parlor to meet her employer, Mrs. Agnes. Jessie had gone in quest of her brother, and thus Agnes was alone when Maddy Clyde first presented herself before her. She had not expected to find Maddy so pretty, and for a moment the hot blood crimsoned her cheek, while her heart throbbed wildly beneath the rich morning dress. Dr. Holbrook had cause for being attracted by that fresh, bright face, she thought, and so she steeled herself against the better impulses of her nature, impulses which pleaded that for the sake of the past she should be kind to Maddy Clyde.“Ah, good-morning. You are Jessie’s governess, I presume,” she said, bowing distantly, and pretending not to notice the hand which Maddy involuntarily extended toward her. “Jessie speaks well of you, and I am very glad you suit her. You have had a pleasant time, I trust?”Her voice was so cold and her manner so distant that Maddy’s eyes for an instant filled with tears, but she answered civilly that she had been very happy, and everybody was very kind. It was harder work to put down Maddy Clyde than Agnes had expected, and after a little further conversation there ensued a silence, which neither was inclined to break. At last, summoning all her courage, Agnes began:“Excuse me, Miss Clyde, but your own good sense, of which I am sure you have an abundance, must tell you that now Mr. Remington and myself are at home, your intercourse with our family must be rather limited—that is—ahem—that is, neither Mr. Remington nor myself are accustomed to having our governess very much with us. I suppose you have had the range of the parlors, sitting there when you liked, and all this was perfectly proper. Mind, I am finding no fault with you. It is all quite right,” she continued, as she saw the strange look of terror and surprise visible on Maddy’s face. “The past is right, but in future it will be a little different, I am willing to accord to a governess all the privileges possible. They are human as well as myself, but society makes a difference. Don’t you know it does?”“Yes—no—I don’t know. Oh, pray tell me what I am to do!” Maddy gasped, her face as white as ashes, and her eyes wearing as yet only a scared, uncertain look.With little, graceful tosses of the head, which set in motion every one of the brown curls, Mrs. Agnes replied:“You are not, of course, to go to Mr. Remington. It is my matter, and does not concern him. What I wish is this: You are to come to the parlor only when invited, and are not to intrude upon us at any time, particularly when company is here, such as—well, such as Dr. Holbrook, if you please. As you cannot be with Jessie all the while, you will, when your labors as governess are over, sit in your own room, or the schoolroom, or walk in the back yard, just as the higher servants do—such as Mrs. Noah and the sewing girl, Sarah. Occasionally we shall have you in to dine with us, but usually you will take your meals with Mrs. Noah and Sarah. By following these directions you will, I think, give entire satisfaction.”When Mrs. Agnes had finished this, Maddy began to understand her position, and into her white face the hot blood poured indignantly. Wholly inexperienced, she had never dreamed that a governess was not worthy to sit at the same table with her employer, that she must never enter the parlors unbidden, or intrude herself in any way. No wonder that her cheeks burned at the degradation, or that, for an instant, she felt like defying the proud woman to her face. But the angry words trembling on her tongue were repressed as she remembered her grandfather’s teachings; and with a bow as haughty as any Mrs. Agnes could have made, and a look on her face which could not easily be forgotten, she left the room, and in a kind of stunned bewilderment sought the garden, where she could, unseen, give way to her feelings.Once alone, the torrent burst forth, and burying her face in the soft grass, she wept bitterly, never hearing the step coming near, and not at first heeding the voice which asked what was the matter. Guy Remington, too, had come out into the garden, accidentally wandering that way, and so stumbling upon the little figure crying in the grass. He knew it was Maddy, and greatly surprised to find her thus, asked what was the matter. Then, as she did not hear him, he laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, compelling her to look up. In all her imaginings of Guy, she had never associated him with the man who had so puzzled and confused her, and now she did not for a time suspect the truth. She only thought him a guest at Aikenside; some one come with Guy, and her degradation seemed greater than before. She was not surprised when he called her by name; of course he remembered her, just as she did him; but she did wonder a little what Mrs. Agnes would say, could she know how kindly he spoke to her, lifting her from the grass and leading her to a rustic seat at no great distance from them.“Now, tell me why you are crying so?” he said, brushing from her silk apron the spot of dirt which had settled upon it. “Are you homesick?” he continued, and then Maddy burst out again.She forgot that he was a stranger, forgot everything except that he sympathized with her.“Oh, sir,” she sobbed, “I was so happy here till they came home, Mrs. Remington and Mr. Guy. I never thought it was a disgrace to be a governess; never heard it was so considered, or that I was not good enough to eat with them till she told me this. Oh, dear, dear!” and choked with tears Maddy stopped a moment to take breath.She did not look up at the young man beside her, and it was well she did not, for the dark expression of his face would have frightened her. Half guessing the truth, and impatient to hear more, he said to her:“Go on,” so sternly, that she started, and replied:“I know you are angry with me and I ought not to have told you.”“I am not angry—not at you at least—go on,” was Guy’s reply, and Maddy continued:“She told me that now they had come home it would be different, that only when invited must I come to the parlor, or anywhere, but must stay in the servants’ part, and eat with Mrs. Noah and Sarah. I’d just as soon do that. I am no better than they, only, only—the way she told me made me feel so mean, as if I was not anybody, when I am,” and here Maddy’s pride began to rise. “I’m just as good as she, if grandpa is poor, and I won’t stay here to be treated like a nigger by her and Mr. Guy. I liked him so much too, because he was kind to grandpa and to me when I was sick. Yes, I did like him so much.”“And how is it now?” Guy asked, wondering who in the world she thought he was. “How is it now?”“I s’pose it’s wicked to feel such things on Sunday, but, somehow, what she said keeps making me so bad that I know I hate her, and I guess I hate Mr. Guy!”This was Maddy’s answer, spoken deliberately, while she looked up at the young man, who, with a comical expression about his mouth, answered back:“I am Mr. Guy.” “You, you! Oh, I can’t bear it! I will die!” and Maddy sprang up as quickly as if feeling an electric shock.But Guy’s arm was interposed to stop her, and Guy’s arm held her back, while he asked where she was going.“Anywhere, out of sight where you can never see me again,” Maddy sobbed vehemently. “It is bad enough to have you think me a fool, as you must; but now, oh what do you think of me?”“Nothing bad, I assure you,” Guy said, still holding her wrist to keep her there. “I supposed you knew who I was, but as you did not, I forgive you for hating me so cordially. If you thought I sanctioned what Mrs. Remington has said to you, you had cause to dislike me, but Miss Clyde, I do not, and this is the first intimation I have had that you were to be treated other than as a lady. I am master of Aikenside, not Mrs. Agnes, who shall be made to understand it.”“Oh, please don’t quarrel about me. Let me go home, and then all will be well,” Maddy cried, feeling, at that moment, more averse to leaving Aikenside than she could have thought it possible.“We shall not quarrel, but I shall have my way; meanwhile go to your room and stay there until told that I have sent for you.”They went to the house together, but separated in the hall; Maddy repairing to her room, while Guy sought Mrs. Agnes. The moment she saw his face she knew a storm was coming, but was not prepared for the biting sarcasm and bitter reproaches heaped upon her by one who, when roused, was a perfect hurricane.Maybe she had forgotten what she was when his father married her, he said, but he had not, and he remembered well the wonder expressed by many that his father should stoop to marry a poor school teacher. “Yes, that’s what you were, madam, much as you despise Maddy Clyde for being a governess; you were one once yourself, and before that time mercy knows what you were—a hired girl, perhaps—your present airs would seem to warrant as much!”Guy was in a sad passion by this time, and failed to note the effect his last words had on Agnes, who turned livid with rage and terror; but smothering down her wrath, she said beseechingly:“Pray, Guy, do not be so angry; I know I am foolish about some things, and proud people who ‘come up’ as you say always are, I guess; I know that marrying your father made me what I am, but everybody does not know it, and it is not necessary they should. I don’t remember exactly what I did say to this Clyde girl, but I thought it would be pleasanter for you, pleasanter for us all, not to have her always around; it seems she has presided at the table when Dr. Holbrook was here to tea, and even you can’t think that quite right.”“I don’t know why,” and at mention of Dr. Holbrook Guy’s temper burst out again. “Agnes, you can’t deceive me; I know the secret of your abominable treatment of Maddy Clyde is jealousy.”“Guy—jealous, I jealous of that child;” and Agnes’ voice was expressive of the utmost consternation.“Yes, jealous of that child; you think that because the doctor has been kind to her, perhaps he wants her some time for his wife. I hope he does; I mean to help it on; I’ll tell him to have her, and if he don’t I’ll almost marry her myself!” and Guy paced up and down the parlor, chafing and foaming like a young lion.Agnes was conquered, and quite as much bewildered as Maddy had been; she heard only in part how Maddy Clyde was henceforth to be treated.“Yes, yes,” she gasped at last, as Guy talked on, “stop now, for mercy’s sake, and I’ll do anything, only not this morning, my head aches so I cannot go to the breakfast table; I must be excused,” and holding her temples, which were throbbing with pain, induced by strong excitement, Agnes hurried to her own room and threw herself upon the bed, angry, mortified and subdued.The breakfast bell had rung twice while Guy was holding that interview with Agnes, and at last Mrs. Noah came up herself to learn the cause of the delay; standing in the hall she heard a part of what was transpiring in the parlor. Mrs. Noah was proud and jealous of her master’s dignity, and once or twice the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps when he came home Maddy would be treated more as some governesses were treated by their employers, but to have Agnes take the matter up was quite a different thing, and Mrs. Noah smiled with grim satisfaction, as she heard Guy issuing orders as to how Miss Clyde should be treated. Standing back to let Agnes pass, she waited a moment, and then, as if she had just come up, presented herself before Guy, asking if he were ready for breakfast.“Yes, call Miss Clyde; tell her I sent for her,” was Guy’s answer, and forthwith Mrs. Noah repaired to Maddy’s room, finding her still sobbing bitterly.“I cannot go down,” she said; “my face is all stains, and it’s so dreadful, happening on Sunday, too. What would grandpa say?”“You can wash off the stains. Come,” Mrs. Noah said, pouring water into the bowl, and bidding Maddy hurry, “as Mr. Guy was waiting breakfast for her.”“But I am not to eat with them,” Maddy began, when Mrs. Noah stopped her by explaining how Guy ruled that house, and Agnes had been completely routed.This did not quiet Maddy particularly, and her heart beat painfully as she descended to the parlor, where Guy was still walking up and down.“Come, Miss Clyde, Jessie is nearly famished,” he said pleasantly, as Maddy appeared, and without the slightest reference to what had passed he drew Maddy’s arm within his own, and giving a hand to Jessie, who had just come in, he went to the breakfast room, where Maddy was told to preside.Guy watched her closely without seeming to do so, mentally deciding that she was neither vulgar nor awkward. On the contrary, he thought her very pretty, and very graceful for one so unaccustomed to society. Nothing was said of Agnes, who kept her room the entire day, and did not join the family until evening, when Guy sat upon the piazza with Jessie in his lap, while Maddy was not very far away. At first there was much constraint between Agnes and Maddy, but with Guy to manage, it soon wore away, and Agnes felt herself exceedingly amiable when she reflected how gracious she had been to her rival.But Maddy could not so soon forget. All through the day the conviction had been settling upon her that she could not stay at Aikenside, and so on the following morning, just after breakfast was over, she summoned courage to ask Mr. Guy if she might talk with film. Leading the way to his library, he bade her sit down, while he took the chair opposite, and then waited for her to commence.Maddy was afraid of Guy. He did not seem quite like Dr. Holbrook. He was haughtier in his appearance, while his rather elaborate style of dress and polished manners gave him, in her estimation, a kind of superiority over all the men she had ever met. Besides that, she remembered how his dark eyes had flashed when she told him what she did the previous day, and also that she had said to his face that she hated him. She could not bear to leave a bad impression on his mind, so the first words she said to him were:“Mr. Remington, I can’t stay here after all that has happened. It would not be pleasant for me or Mrs. Agnes, so I am going home, but I want you to forget what I said about hating you yesterday. I did not then know who you were. I don’t hate you. I like you, and I want you to like me.”She did not look at him, for her eyelids were cast down, and her lashes were wet with the tears she could scarcely keep from shedding. Guy had never known much about girls of Maddy’s age, and there was something extremely fascinating in the artless simplicity of this half child, half woman, sitting there before him, and asking him so demurely to like her. She was very pretty, he thought, and with proper culture would make a beautiful woman. Then, as he remembered his avowed intention of urging the doctor to make her his wife some day, the idea flashed upon him that it would be very generous, very magnanimous in him to educate that young girl expressly for the doctor, and though he hardly seemed to wait at all ere replying to Maddy, he had in the brief interval formed a skeleton plan, and saw it in all its bearings and triumphal result.“I am much obliged for your liking me,” he said, a very little mischievously. “You surely have not much reason so to do when you recall the incidents of our first interview. Maddy—Miss Clyde—I have come to the conclusion that I knew less than you did, and I beg your pardon for annoying you so terribly.”Then briefly Guy explained to her how it all had happened, blaming himself far more than he did the doctor, who, he said, had repented bitterly. “Had you died, Miss Clyde, when you were so sick, I half believe he would have felt it his duty to die also. He likes you very much; more indeed than any patient I ever knew him to have,” and Guy’s eyes glanced curiously at Maddy to witness the effect his words might have upon her. But Maddy merely answered:“Yes, I think he does like me, and I know I like him.”Mentally chastising himself for trying to find in Maddy’s head an idea which evidently never was there, he began to speak of her proposition of leave, saying he should not suffer it, Jessie needed her and she must stay. She was not to mind the disagreeable things Mrs. Remington had said. She was tired and nervous, and so gave way to some very preposterous notions, which she had picked up somewhere. She would treat Maddy better hereafter, and she must stay. It was pleasanter for Jessie to have a companion so near her own age. Then, as he saw signs of yielding in Maddy’s face, he continued:“How would you like to turn scholar for a short time each day, I being your teacher? Time often hangs heavily upon my hands, and I fancy the novelty of the thing would suit me. I have books. I will appoint your lessons and the hour for recitation.”Guy’s face was scarlet by the time he finished speaking, for suddenly he remembered to have heard or read of a similar instance which resulted in the marriage of the teacher and pupil; besides that it would subject him to so much remark, when it was known that he, the fashionable and fastidious Guy, was teaching a pretty, attractive girl like Maddy Clyde, and he sincerely hoped she would decline. But Maddy had no such intention. Always in earnest herself, she supposed every one else meant what they said, and without ever suspecting the peculiar position in which such a proceeding would place both herself and Guy, her heart leaped up at the idea of knowing what was in the books she had never dared hope she might study. With her beautiful eyes full of tears, which shone like diamonds, as she lifted them to Guy’s face, she said:“Oh, I thank you so much. You could not make me happier, and I’ll try so hard to learn. They don’t teach such things at the district school; and when there was a high school in Honedale I could not go, for it was three dollars a quarter, and grandpa had no three dollars for me. Uncle Joseph needed help, and so I stayed at home. It’s dreadful to be poor, but, perhaps, I shall some time be competent to teach in a seminary, and won’t that be grand? When may I begin?”Guy had never met with so much frankness and simplicity in any one, unless it were in Lucy Atherstone, of whom Maddy reminded him somewhat, except that the latter was more practical, more—he hardly knew what—only there was a difference, and a thought crossed his mind that if Maddy had had all Lucy’s advantages, and was as old, she would be what the world calls smarter. There was no disparagement to Lucy in his thoughts, only a compliment to Maddy, who was waiting for him to answer her question. There was no retracting now; he had offered his services; she had accepted; and with a mental comment: “I dread Doc’s fun the most, so I’ll explain to him how I am educating her for the future Mrs. Dr. Holbrook,” he replied:“As soon as I am rested from my journey, or sooner, if you like; and now tell me, please, who is this Uncle Joseph of whom you speak?”He remembered what the doctor had said of a crazy uncle, but wishing to hear Maddy’s version of it, put to her the question he did.“Uncle Joseph is grandma’s youngest brother,” Maddy answered, “and he has been in the lunatic asylum for years. As long as his little property lasted, his bills were paid, but now they keep him from charity, only grandpa helps all he can, and buys some little nice things which he wants so badly, and sometimes cries for, they say. I picked berries all last summer, and sold to buy him a thin coat and pants. We should have more to spend than we do, if it were not for Uncle Joseph,” and Maddy’s face wore a thoughtful expression as she recalled all the shifts and turns she’d seen made at home that the poor maniac might be more comfortable.“What made him crazy?” Guy asked, and after a moment’s hesitancy Maddy replied: “I don’t believe grandma would mind my telling you, though she don’t talk about it much. I only knew it a little while ago. He was disappointed once. He loved a girl very much, and she made him think that she loved him. She was many years younger than Uncle Joseph—about my age at first, and when she grew up she said she was sick of him, because he was so much older. He wouldn’t have felt so badly, if she had not gone straight off and married a rich man who was a great deal older even than Uncle Joseph; that was the hardest part, and he grew crazy at once. It has been so long that he never can be helped, and sometimes grandma talks of bringing him home, as he is perfectly harmless. I suppose it’s wicked, but I most hope she won’t, for it would be terrible to live with a crazy man,” and a chill crept over Maddy, as if there had fallen upon her a foreshadowing of what might yet be. “Mr. Remington,” she continued suddenly, “if you teach me, I can’t, of course, expect three dollars a week. It would not be right.”“Perfectly right,” he answered. “Your services to Jessie will be worth just as much as ever, so give yourself no trouble on that score.”He was the best man that ever lived, Maddy thought, and so she told the doctor that afternoon when, as he rode up to Aikenside, she met him out on the lawn before he reached the house.It did strike the doctor a little comically that one of Guy’s habits should offer to turn school teacher, but Maddy was so glad, that he was glad too, and doubly glad that across the sea there was a Lucy Atherstone. How he wished that she was there now as Mrs. Guy, and he must tell Guy so that very day. Seated in Guy’s library, the opportunity soon occurred, Guy approaching the subject himself by saying:“Guess, Hal, what crazy project I have just embarked in.”“I know without guessing; Maddy told me,” and the doctor’s eyebrows were elevated just a little as he crossed his feet upon the window sill and moved his chair so as to have a better view of Maddy and Jessie romping in the grass.“And so you don’t approve?” was Guy’s next remark, to which the doctor replied:“Why, yes; it’s a grand thing for her, providing you know enough to teach her; but, Guy, this is a confounded gossiping neighborhood, and folks will talk, I’m afraid.”“Talk about what!” and Guy bridled up as his independent spirit began to rise, “What harm is there in my doing a generous act to a poor girl like Maddy Clyde? Isn’t she graceful as a kitten, though?” and Guy nodded toward the spot where she was playing.It annoyed the doctor to have Guy praise Maddy, but he would not show it, and answered calmly:“It’s all right in you, but just because the poor girl is Maddy Clyde, folks will talk. She is too handsome, Guy, for Madam Grundy to let alone. If Lucy were only here, it would be different. Why, in the name of wonder, are you two not married, if you are ever going to be?”“Jealous, as I live!” and Guy’s hand came down playfully on the doctor’s shoulder. “I did not suppose you had got as far as that. You are afraid of the effect it may have on me teaching a sweet-faced little girl how to conjugate amo; and to cover up your own interest, you bring Lucy forward as an argument. Eh, Hal, have I not probed the secret?”The doctor was in no mood for joking, and only smiled gloomily, while Guy continued:“Honestly, doctor, I am doing it for you. I imagine you fancy her, as well you may. She’ll make a splend’d woman, but she needs educating, of course, and I am going to do it. You ought to thank me, instead of looking so like a thundercloud,” and Guy laughed merrily.The doctor was ashamed of his mood, and could not tell what spirit prompted him to answer:“I am obliged to you, Guy; but as far as I am concerned, you may spare yourself the trouble. If my wife needs educating, I can do it myself.”Guy was puzzled. Could it be that, after all, he was deceived, and the doctor did not care for Maddy? It might be, and he hastened to change the conversation to another topic than Maddy Clyde. The doctor stayed to dinner, and as Guy watched him closely, he made up his mind that he did care for Maddy Clyde, and this confirmed him in his plan of educating her for him.Magnanimous Guy! He felt himself very good, very generous, very condescending, and very forgiving, the early portion of the afternoon; but later in the day he began to view Guy Remington in the light of a martyr, said martyrdom consisting in the scornful toss of the head with which Agnes had listened to his plan, and the open opposition of Mrs. Noah.“Was he beside himself, or what?” this worthy asked. “She liked Maddy Clyde, to be sure, but it wasn’t for him to demean himself by turning her school master. Folks would talk awfully, and she couldn’t blame ’em; besides, what would Lucy say to his bein’ alone in a room with a girl as pretty as Maddy? It was a duty he owed her at any rate to tell her all about it, and if she said ’twas right, why, go it.”This was the drift of Mrs. Noah’s remarks, and as Guy depended much on her judgment, he decided to write to Lucy to see if she had the slightest objections to his teaching Maddy Clyde. Accordingly he wrote that very night, telling her frankly all he knew concerning Maddy Clyde, and narrating the circumstances under which he first had met her, being careful also to repeat what he knew would have weight with an English girl like Lucy, to wit, that though poor, Maddy’s father and grandfather Clyde had been gentlemen, the one a clergyman, the other a sea captain. Then he told of her desire for learning, and his plan to teach her himself, of what the doctor and Mrs. Noah said about it, and his final determination to consult her. Then he described Maddy herself, feeling a strange thrill as he told how pure, how innocent, how artless and beautiful she was, and asked if Lucy feared aught from his association with her.“If you do,” he wrote, “you have but to say so, and though I am committed, I will extricate myself in some way rather than wound you in the slightest degree.”It would be some time ere an answer to this letter could be received, and until such time Guy could not honorably hear Maddy’s lessons as he had agreed to do. But Maddy was not suspicious, and accepting his trivial excuse, waited patiently, while he, too, waited for the letter, wondering what it would contain.
Saturday came at last, a balmy September day, when all nature seemed conspiring to welcome the travelers for whom so extensive preparations were making at Aikenside. They were expected at about six in the afternoon, and just before that hour the doctor rode up to be in readiness to meet them. In the dining-room the table was set as Maddy had never seen it set before, making, with its silver, its china, and cut-glass, a glittering display. There was Guy’s seat as carver, with Agnes at the urn, while Maddy felt sure that the two plates between Agnes and Guy were intended for Jessie and herself, the doctor occupying the other side. Jessie would sit next her mother, which would leave her near to Guy, where he could see every movement she made. Would he think her awkward, or would he, as she hoped, be so much absorbed with the doctor as not to notice her? Suppose she should drop her fork, or upset one of those queer-looking goblets, more like bowls than anything else? It would be terrible, and Maddy’s cheeks tingled at the very thought of such a catastrophe. Were they goblets really, those funny colored things, and if they were not, what were they? Summoning all her courage, she asked the doctor, her prime counselor, and learned that they were the finger-glasses, of which she had read, but which she had never seen before.
“Oh, must I use them?” she asked, in so evident distress that the doctor could not forbear a laugh as he told her it was not of the slightest consequence whether she used them or not, advising her to watch Mrs. Agnes, who wasau faitin all such matters.
Six o’clock came, but no travelers. Then an hour went by, and there came a telegram that the cars had broken down and would not probably arrive until late in the night, if indeed they did till morning. Greatly disappointed, the doctor, after dinner, took his leave, telling the girls they had better not sit up. Consequently, at a late hour they both retired, sleeping so soundly as not to near the noise outside the house; the banging of doors, the setting down of trunks, the tramp of feet, Mrs. Noah’s words of welcome, one pleasant voice which responded, and another more impatient one which sounded as if its owner were tired and cross.
Agnes and Guy had come. As a whole, Agnes’ season at Saratoga had been rather disagreeable. Guy, it is true had been exceedingly kind. She had been flattered by brainless fops. She had heard herself called “that beautiful Mrs. Remington,” and “that charming young widow,” but no serious attentions had been paid, no millionaire had asked to be her second husband. If there had, she would have said yes, for Agnes was not averse to changing her state of widowhood. She liked the doctor, but if he did not propose, and some other body did, she should accept that other body, of course. This was her intention when she left Aikenside, and when she came back, it was with the determination to raise the siege at once, and compel the doctor to surrender. She knew he was not wealthy as she could wish, but his family were the Holbrooks, and as she positively liked him, she was prepared to waive the matter of money. In this state of mind it is not surprising that the morning of the return home she should listen with a troubled mind to Jessie’s rather exaggerated account of the number of times the doctor had been there, and the nice things he had said to her and Maddy.
“He had visited them ever so much, staying ever so long. I know Maddy likes him; I do, anyway,” Jessie said, never dreaming of the passion she was exciting, jealousy of Maddy, hatred of Maddy, and a desire to be revenged on a girl whom Dr. Holbrook visited “ever so much.”
What was she that he should care for her? A mere nothing—a child, whom Guy had taken up. Pity there was a Lucy Atherstone in the way of his making her mistress of Aikenside. It would be a pretty romance, Guy Remington and Grandpa Markham’s grandchild. Agnes was nervous and tired, and this helped to increase her anger toward the innocent girl. She would take immediate measures, she thought, to put the upstart down, and the sight of Flora laying the cloth for breakfast suggested to her the first step in teaching Maddy her place.
“Flora,” she said, “I notice you are arranging the table for four. Have we company?”
“Why, no, ma’am; there’s Mr. Guy, yourself, Miss Jessie, and Miss Clyde,” was Flora’s reply, while Agnes continued haughtily: “Remove Miss Clyde’s plate. No one allows their governess to eat with them.”
“But, ma’am,” and Flora hesitated, “she’s very pretty, and ladylike, and young; she has always eaten with Miss Jessie and Dr. Holbrook when he was here. He treats her as if she was good as anybody.”
In her eagerness to serve Maddy and save her from insult, Flora was growing bold, but she only hurt the cause by mentioning the doctor. Agnes was determined now, and she replied:
“It was quite right when we were gone, but it is different now, and Mr. Remington, I am sure, will not suffer it.”
“Might I ask him?” Flora persisted, her hand still on the plate.
“No,” Agnes would attend to that, and also see Miss Clyde. All Flora had to do was to remove the plate, which she finally did, muttering to herself: “Such airs! but I know Mr. Guy won’t stand it.”
Meantime Maddy had put on her prettiest delaine, tied her little dainty black silk apron, Mrs. Noah’s gift, and with the feeling that she was looking unusually well, started for the parlor to meet her employer, Mrs. Agnes. Jessie had gone in quest of her brother, and thus Agnes was alone when Maddy Clyde first presented herself before her. She had not expected to find Maddy so pretty, and for a moment the hot blood crimsoned her cheek, while her heart throbbed wildly beneath the rich morning dress. Dr. Holbrook had cause for being attracted by that fresh, bright face, she thought, and so she steeled herself against the better impulses of her nature, impulses which pleaded that for the sake of the past she should be kind to Maddy Clyde.
“Ah, good-morning. You are Jessie’s governess, I presume,” she said, bowing distantly, and pretending not to notice the hand which Maddy involuntarily extended toward her. “Jessie speaks well of you, and I am very glad you suit her. You have had a pleasant time, I trust?”
Her voice was so cold and her manner so distant that Maddy’s eyes for an instant filled with tears, but she answered civilly that she had been very happy, and everybody was very kind. It was harder work to put down Maddy Clyde than Agnes had expected, and after a little further conversation there ensued a silence, which neither was inclined to break. At last, summoning all her courage, Agnes began:
“Excuse me, Miss Clyde, but your own good sense, of which I am sure you have an abundance, must tell you that now Mr. Remington and myself are at home, your intercourse with our family must be rather limited—that is—ahem—that is, neither Mr. Remington nor myself are accustomed to having our governess very much with us. I suppose you have had the range of the parlors, sitting there when you liked, and all this was perfectly proper. Mind, I am finding no fault with you. It is all quite right,” she continued, as she saw the strange look of terror and surprise visible on Maddy’s face. “The past is right, but in future it will be a little different, I am willing to accord to a governess all the privileges possible. They are human as well as myself, but society makes a difference. Don’t you know it does?”
“Yes—no—I don’t know. Oh, pray tell me what I am to do!” Maddy gasped, her face as white as ashes, and her eyes wearing as yet only a scared, uncertain look.
With little, graceful tosses of the head, which set in motion every one of the brown curls, Mrs. Agnes replied:
“You are not, of course, to go to Mr. Remington. It is my matter, and does not concern him. What I wish is this: You are to come to the parlor only when invited, and are not to intrude upon us at any time, particularly when company is here, such as—well, such as Dr. Holbrook, if you please. As you cannot be with Jessie all the while, you will, when your labors as governess are over, sit in your own room, or the schoolroom, or walk in the back yard, just as the higher servants do—such as Mrs. Noah and the sewing girl, Sarah. Occasionally we shall have you in to dine with us, but usually you will take your meals with Mrs. Noah and Sarah. By following these directions you will, I think, give entire satisfaction.”
When Mrs. Agnes had finished this, Maddy began to understand her position, and into her white face the hot blood poured indignantly. Wholly inexperienced, she had never dreamed that a governess was not worthy to sit at the same table with her employer, that she must never enter the parlors unbidden, or intrude herself in any way. No wonder that her cheeks burned at the degradation, or that, for an instant, she felt like defying the proud woman to her face. But the angry words trembling on her tongue were repressed as she remembered her grandfather’s teachings; and with a bow as haughty as any Mrs. Agnes could have made, and a look on her face which could not easily be forgotten, she left the room, and in a kind of stunned bewilderment sought the garden, where she could, unseen, give way to her feelings.
Once alone, the torrent burst forth, and burying her face in the soft grass, she wept bitterly, never hearing the step coming near, and not at first heeding the voice which asked what was the matter. Guy Remington, too, had come out into the garden, accidentally wandering that way, and so stumbling upon the little figure crying in the grass. He knew it was Maddy, and greatly surprised to find her thus, asked what was the matter. Then, as she did not hear him, he laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, compelling her to look up. In all her imaginings of Guy, she had never associated him with the man who had so puzzled and confused her, and now she did not for a time suspect the truth. She only thought him a guest at Aikenside; some one come with Guy, and her degradation seemed greater than before. She was not surprised when he called her by name; of course he remembered her, just as she did him; but she did wonder a little what Mrs. Agnes would say, could she know how kindly he spoke to her, lifting her from the grass and leading her to a rustic seat at no great distance from them.
“Now, tell me why you are crying so?” he said, brushing from her silk apron the spot of dirt which had settled upon it. “Are you homesick?” he continued, and then Maddy burst out again.
She forgot that he was a stranger, forgot everything except that he sympathized with her.
“Oh, sir,” she sobbed, “I was so happy here till they came home, Mrs. Remington and Mr. Guy. I never thought it was a disgrace to be a governess; never heard it was so considered, or that I was not good enough to eat with them till she told me this. Oh, dear, dear!” and choked with tears Maddy stopped a moment to take breath.
She did not look up at the young man beside her, and it was well she did not, for the dark expression of his face would have frightened her. Half guessing the truth, and impatient to hear more, he said to her:
“Go on,” so sternly, that she started, and replied:
“I know you are angry with me and I ought not to have told you.”
“I am not angry—not at you at least—go on,” was Guy’s reply, and Maddy continued:
“She told me that now they had come home it would be different, that only when invited must I come to the parlor, or anywhere, but must stay in the servants’ part, and eat with Mrs. Noah and Sarah. I’d just as soon do that. I am no better than they, only, only—the way she told me made me feel so mean, as if I was not anybody, when I am,” and here Maddy’s pride began to rise. “I’m just as good as she, if grandpa is poor, and I won’t stay here to be treated like a nigger by her and Mr. Guy. I liked him so much too, because he was kind to grandpa and to me when I was sick. Yes, I did like him so much.”
“And how is it now?” Guy asked, wondering who in the world she thought he was. “How is it now?”
“I s’pose it’s wicked to feel such things on Sunday, but, somehow, what she said keeps making me so bad that I know I hate her, and I guess I hate Mr. Guy!”
This was Maddy’s answer, spoken deliberately, while she looked up at the young man, who, with a comical expression about his mouth, answered back:
“I am Mr. Guy.” “You, you! Oh, I can’t bear it! I will die!” and Maddy sprang up as quickly as if feeling an electric shock.
But Guy’s arm was interposed to stop her, and Guy’s arm held her back, while he asked where she was going.
“Anywhere, out of sight where you can never see me again,” Maddy sobbed vehemently. “It is bad enough to have you think me a fool, as you must; but now, oh what do you think of me?”
“Nothing bad, I assure you,” Guy said, still holding her wrist to keep her there. “I supposed you knew who I was, but as you did not, I forgive you for hating me so cordially. If you thought I sanctioned what Mrs. Remington has said to you, you had cause to dislike me, but Miss Clyde, I do not, and this is the first intimation I have had that you were to be treated other than as a lady. I am master of Aikenside, not Mrs. Agnes, who shall be made to understand it.”
“Oh, please don’t quarrel about me. Let me go home, and then all will be well,” Maddy cried, feeling, at that moment, more averse to leaving Aikenside than she could have thought it possible.
“We shall not quarrel, but I shall have my way; meanwhile go to your room and stay there until told that I have sent for you.”
They went to the house together, but separated in the hall; Maddy repairing to her room, while Guy sought Mrs. Agnes. The moment she saw his face she knew a storm was coming, but was not prepared for the biting sarcasm and bitter reproaches heaped upon her by one who, when roused, was a perfect hurricane.
Maybe she had forgotten what she was when his father married her, he said, but he had not, and he remembered well the wonder expressed by many that his father should stoop to marry a poor school teacher. “Yes, that’s what you were, madam, much as you despise Maddy Clyde for being a governess; you were one once yourself, and before that time mercy knows what you were—a hired girl, perhaps—your present airs would seem to warrant as much!”
Guy was in a sad passion by this time, and failed to note the effect his last words had on Agnes, who turned livid with rage and terror; but smothering down her wrath, she said beseechingly:
“Pray, Guy, do not be so angry; I know I am foolish about some things, and proud people who ‘come up’ as you say always are, I guess; I know that marrying your father made me what I am, but everybody does not know it, and it is not necessary they should. I don’t remember exactly what I did say to this Clyde girl, but I thought it would be pleasanter for you, pleasanter for us all, not to have her always around; it seems she has presided at the table when Dr. Holbrook was here to tea, and even you can’t think that quite right.”
“I don’t know why,” and at mention of Dr. Holbrook Guy’s temper burst out again. “Agnes, you can’t deceive me; I know the secret of your abominable treatment of Maddy Clyde is jealousy.”
“Guy—jealous, I jealous of that child;” and Agnes’ voice was expressive of the utmost consternation.
“Yes, jealous of that child; you think that because the doctor has been kind to her, perhaps he wants her some time for his wife. I hope he does; I mean to help it on; I’ll tell him to have her, and if he don’t I’ll almost marry her myself!” and Guy paced up and down the parlor, chafing and foaming like a young lion.
Agnes was conquered, and quite as much bewildered as Maddy had been; she heard only in part how Maddy Clyde was henceforth to be treated.
“Yes, yes,” she gasped at last, as Guy talked on, “stop now, for mercy’s sake, and I’ll do anything, only not this morning, my head aches so I cannot go to the breakfast table; I must be excused,” and holding her temples, which were throbbing with pain, induced by strong excitement, Agnes hurried to her own room and threw herself upon the bed, angry, mortified and subdued.
The breakfast bell had rung twice while Guy was holding that interview with Agnes, and at last Mrs. Noah came up herself to learn the cause of the delay; standing in the hall she heard a part of what was transpiring in the parlor. Mrs. Noah was proud and jealous of her master’s dignity, and once or twice the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps when he came home Maddy would be treated more as some governesses were treated by their employers, but to have Agnes take the matter up was quite a different thing, and Mrs. Noah smiled with grim satisfaction, as she heard Guy issuing orders as to how Miss Clyde should be treated. Standing back to let Agnes pass, she waited a moment, and then, as if she had just come up, presented herself before Guy, asking if he were ready for breakfast.
“Yes, call Miss Clyde; tell her I sent for her,” was Guy’s answer, and forthwith Mrs. Noah repaired to Maddy’s room, finding her still sobbing bitterly.
“I cannot go down,” she said; “my face is all stains, and it’s so dreadful, happening on Sunday, too. What would grandpa say?”
“You can wash off the stains. Come,” Mrs. Noah said, pouring water into the bowl, and bidding Maddy hurry, “as Mr. Guy was waiting breakfast for her.”
“But I am not to eat with them,” Maddy began, when Mrs. Noah stopped her by explaining how Guy ruled that house, and Agnes had been completely routed.
This did not quiet Maddy particularly, and her heart beat painfully as she descended to the parlor, where Guy was still walking up and down.
“Come, Miss Clyde, Jessie is nearly famished,” he said pleasantly, as Maddy appeared, and without the slightest reference to what had passed he drew Maddy’s arm within his own, and giving a hand to Jessie, who had just come in, he went to the breakfast room, where Maddy was told to preside.
Guy watched her closely without seeming to do so, mentally deciding that she was neither vulgar nor awkward. On the contrary, he thought her very pretty, and very graceful for one so unaccustomed to society. Nothing was said of Agnes, who kept her room the entire day, and did not join the family until evening, when Guy sat upon the piazza with Jessie in his lap, while Maddy was not very far away. At first there was much constraint between Agnes and Maddy, but with Guy to manage, it soon wore away, and Agnes felt herself exceedingly amiable when she reflected how gracious she had been to her rival.
But Maddy could not so soon forget. All through the day the conviction had been settling upon her that she could not stay at Aikenside, and so on the following morning, just after breakfast was over, she summoned courage to ask Mr. Guy if she might talk with film. Leading the way to his library, he bade her sit down, while he took the chair opposite, and then waited for her to commence.
Maddy was afraid of Guy. He did not seem quite like Dr. Holbrook. He was haughtier in his appearance, while his rather elaborate style of dress and polished manners gave him, in her estimation, a kind of superiority over all the men she had ever met. Besides that, she remembered how his dark eyes had flashed when she told him what she did the previous day, and also that she had said to his face that she hated him. She could not bear to leave a bad impression on his mind, so the first words she said to him were:
“Mr. Remington, I can’t stay here after all that has happened. It would not be pleasant for me or Mrs. Agnes, so I am going home, but I want you to forget what I said about hating you yesterday. I did not then know who you were. I don’t hate you. I like you, and I want you to like me.”
She did not look at him, for her eyelids were cast down, and her lashes were wet with the tears she could scarcely keep from shedding. Guy had never known much about girls of Maddy’s age, and there was something extremely fascinating in the artless simplicity of this half child, half woman, sitting there before him, and asking him so demurely to like her. She was very pretty, he thought, and with proper culture would make a beautiful woman. Then, as he remembered his avowed intention of urging the doctor to make her his wife some day, the idea flashed upon him that it would be very generous, very magnanimous in him to educate that young girl expressly for the doctor, and though he hardly seemed to wait at all ere replying to Maddy, he had in the brief interval formed a skeleton plan, and saw it in all its bearings and triumphal result.
“I am much obliged for your liking me,” he said, a very little mischievously. “You surely have not much reason so to do when you recall the incidents of our first interview. Maddy—Miss Clyde—I have come to the conclusion that I knew less than you did, and I beg your pardon for annoying you so terribly.”
Then briefly Guy explained to her how it all had happened, blaming himself far more than he did the doctor, who, he said, had repented bitterly. “Had you died, Miss Clyde, when you were so sick, I half believe he would have felt it his duty to die also. He likes you very much; more indeed than any patient I ever knew him to have,” and Guy’s eyes glanced curiously at Maddy to witness the effect his words might have upon her. But Maddy merely answered:
“Yes, I think he does like me, and I know I like him.”
Mentally chastising himself for trying to find in Maddy’s head an idea which evidently never was there, he began to speak of her proposition of leave, saying he should not suffer it, Jessie needed her and she must stay. She was not to mind the disagreeable things Mrs. Remington had said. She was tired and nervous, and so gave way to some very preposterous notions, which she had picked up somewhere. She would treat Maddy better hereafter, and she must stay. It was pleasanter for Jessie to have a companion so near her own age. Then, as he saw signs of yielding in Maddy’s face, he continued:
“How would you like to turn scholar for a short time each day, I being your teacher? Time often hangs heavily upon my hands, and I fancy the novelty of the thing would suit me. I have books. I will appoint your lessons and the hour for recitation.”
Guy’s face was scarlet by the time he finished speaking, for suddenly he remembered to have heard or read of a similar instance which resulted in the marriage of the teacher and pupil; besides that it would subject him to so much remark, when it was known that he, the fashionable and fastidious Guy, was teaching a pretty, attractive girl like Maddy Clyde, and he sincerely hoped she would decline. But Maddy had no such intention. Always in earnest herself, she supposed every one else meant what they said, and without ever suspecting the peculiar position in which such a proceeding would place both herself and Guy, her heart leaped up at the idea of knowing what was in the books she had never dared hope she might study. With her beautiful eyes full of tears, which shone like diamonds, as she lifted them to Guy’s face, she said:
“Oh, I thank you so much. You could not make me happier, and I’ll try so hard to learn. They don’t teach such things at the district school; and when there was a high school in Honedale I could not go, for it was three dollars a quarter, and grandpa had no three dollars for me. Uncle Joseph needed help, and so I stayed at home. It’s dreadful to be poor, but, perhaps, I shall some time be competent to teach in a seminary, and won’t that be grand? When may I begin?”
Guy had never met with so much frankness and simplicity in any one, unless it were in Lucy Atherstone, of whom Maddy reminded him somewhat, except that the latter was more practical, more—he hardly knew what—only there was a difference, and a thought crossed his mind that if Maddy had had all Lucy’s advantages, and was as old, she would be what the world calls smarter. There was no disparagement to Lucy in his thoughts, only a compliment to Maddy, who was waiting for him to answer her question. There was no retracting now; he had offered his services; she had accepted; and with a mental comment: “I dread Doc’s fun the most, so I’ll explain to him how I am educating her for the future Mrs. Dr. Holbrook,” he replied:
“As soon as I am rested from my journey, or sooner, if you like; and now tell me, please, who is this Uncle Joseph of whom you speak?”
He remembered what the doctor had said of a crazy uncle, but wishing to hear Maddy’s version of it, put to her the question he did.
“Uncle Joseph is grandma’s youngest brother,” Maddy answered, “and he has been in the lunatic asylum for years. As long as his little property lasted, his bills were paid, but now they keep him from charity, only grandpa helps all he can, and buys some little nice things which he wants so badly, and sometimes cries for, they say. I picked berries all last summer, and sold to buy him a thin coat and pants. We should have more to spend than we do, if it were not for Uncle Joseph,” and Maddy’s face wore a thoughtful expression as she recalled all the shifts and turns she’d seen made at home that the poor maniac might be more comfortable.
“What made him crazy?” Guy asked, and after a moment’s hesitancy Maddy replied: “I don’t believe grandma would mind my telling you, though she don’t talk about it much. I only knew it a little while ago. He was disappointed once. He loved a girl very much, and she made him think that she loved him. She was many years younger than Uncle Joseph—about my age at first, and when she grew up she said she was sick of him, because he was so much older. He wouldn’t have felt so badly, if she had not gone straight off and married a rich man who was a great deal older even than Uncle Joseph; that was the hardest part, and he grew crazy at once. It has been so long that he never can be helped, and sometimes grandma talks of bringing him home, as he is perfectly harmless. I suppose it’s wicked, but I most hope she won’t, for it would be terrible to live with a crazy man,” and a chill crept over Maddy, as if there had fallen upon her a foreshadowing of what might yet be. “Mr. Remington,” she continued suddenly, “if you teach me, I can’t, of course, expect three dollars a week. It would not be right.”
“Perfectly right,” he answered. “Your services to Jessie will be worth just as much as ever, so give yourself no trouble on that score.”
He was the best man that ever lived, Maddy thought, and so she told the doctor that afternoon when, as he rode up to Aikenside, she met him out on the lawn before he reached the house.
It did strike the doctor a little comically that one of Guy’s habits should offer to turn school teacher, but Maddy was so glad, that he was glad too, and doubly glad that across the sea there was a Lucy Atherstone. How he wished that she was there now as Mrs. Guy, and he must tell Guy so that very day. Seated in Guy’s library, the opportunity soon occurred, Guy approaching the subject himself by saying:
“Guess, Hal, what crazy project I have just embarked in.”
“I know without guessing; Maddy told me,” and the doctor’s eyebrows were elevated just a little as he crossed his feet upon the window sill and moved his chair so as to have a better view of Maddy and Jessie romping in the grass.
“And so you don’t approve?” was Guy’s next remark, to which the doctor replied:
“Why, yes; it’s a grand thing for her, providing you know enough to teach her; but, Guy, this is a confounded gossiping neighborhood, and folks will talk, I’m afraid.”
“Talk about what!” and Guy bridled up as his independent spirit began to rise, “What harm is there in my doing a generous act to a poor girl like Maddy Clyde? Isn’t she graceful as a kitten, though?” and Guy nodded toward the spot where she was playing.
It annoyed the doctor to have Guy praise Maddy, but he would not show it, and answered calmly:
“It’s all right in you, but just because the poor girl is Maddy Clyde, folks will talk. She is too handsome, Guy, for Madam Grundy to let alone. If Lucy were only here, it would be different. Why, in the name of wonder, are you two not married, if you are ever going to be?”
“Jealous, as I live!” and Guy’s hand came down playfully on the doctor’s shoulder. “I did not suppose you had got as far as that. You are afraid of the effect it may have on me teaching a sweet-faced little girl how to conjugate amo; and to cover up your own interest, you bring Lucy forward as an argument. Eh, Hal, have I not probed the secret?”
The doctor was in no mood for joking, and only smiled gloomily, while Guy continued:
“Honestly, doctor, I am doing it for you. I imagine you fancy her, as well you may. She’ll make a splend’d woman, but she needs educating, of course, and I am going to do it. You ought to thank me, instead of looking so like a thundercloud,” and Guy laughed merrily.
The doctor was ashamed of his mood, and could not tell what spirit prompted him to answer:
“I am obliged to you, Guy; but as far as I am concerned, you may spare yourself the trouble. If my wife needs educating, I can do it myself.”
Guy was puzzled. Could it be that, after all, he was deceived, and the doctor did not care for Maddy? It might be, and he hastened to change the conversation to another topic than Maddy Clyde. The doctor stayed to dinner, and as Guy watched him closely, he made up his mind that he did care for Maddy Clyde, and this confirmed him in his plan of educating her for him.
Magnanimous Guy! He felt himself very good, very generous, very condescending, and very forgiving, the early portion of the afternoon; but later in the day he began to view Guy Remington in the light of a martyr, said martyrdom consisting in the scornful toss of the head with which Agnes had listened to his plan, and the open opposition of Mrs. Noah.
“Was he beside himself, or what?” this worthy asked. “She liked Maddy Clyde, to be sure, but it wasn’t for him to demean himself by turning her school master. Folks would talk awfully, and she couldn’t blame ’em; besides, what would Lucy say to his bein’ alone in a room with a girl as pretty as Maddy? It was a duty he owed her at any rate to tell her all about it, and if she said ’twas right, why, go it.”
This was the drift of Mrs. Noah’s remarks, and as Guy depended much on her judgment, he decided to write to Lucy to see if she had the slightest objections to his teaching Maddy Clyde. Accordingly he wrote that very night, telling her frankly all he knew concerning Maddy Clyde, and narrating the circumstances under which he first had met her, being careful also to repeat what he knew would have weight with an English girl like Lucy, to wit, that though poor, Maddy’s father and grandfather Clyde had been gentlemen, the one a clergyman, the other a sea captain. Then he told of her desire for learning, and his plan to teach her himself, of what the doctor and Mrs. Noah said about it, and his final determination to consult her. Then he described Maddy herself, feeling a strange thrill as he told how pure, how innocent, how artless and beautiful she was, and asked if Lucy feared aught from his association with her.
“If you do,” he wrote, “you have but to say so, and though I am committed, I will extricate myself in some way rather than wound you in the slightest degree.”
It would be some time ere an answer to this letter could be received, and until such time Guy could not honorably hear Maddy’s lessons as he had agreed to do. But Maddy was not suspicious, and accepting his trivial excuse, waited patiently, while he, too, waited for the letter, wondering what it would contain.