CHAPTER XIVGOING OUT OF THE OLD LIFE
Lilian had seen very little of her friend, Miss Trenham, through the week, though every day she had been the recipient of a note of sympathy and affection. She came in on Saturday afternoon.
“My dear girl,” she began, “so many unusual events have happened to you that one must needs use both congratulations and condolences. I saw the newspaper account and it seems like the finger of Providence that you should have been directed hither and to the arms of your real parents. Mrs. Boyd looked very poorly the last time I saw her, a month or so ago. I suppose there is a great deal back of the account——”
“I have wanted to see you so,” returned Lilian. “I thought I would come to the Chapel tomorrow morning. You are the only friend I have made outside of the school, but Mrs. Barrington has been so sweet and generous. She had planned to keep me here after mother was gone and educate me.”
The tears stood in Lilian’s eyes and her voice broke with emotion.
“There is so much to talk over, and we have gone to our own home now. Mother and I have been very busy the last four days cleaning and putting things in order. We spent our Christmas at Mrs. Lane’s and had a really delightful time. We had planned some time ago to have you share it with us, and now can you not spare us Sunday, if you are not going——”
“The change is to be made on Monday. Oh, Miss Trenham—I can hardly describe my feelings. I dread it and yet my own mother is an ideal mother. I hardly dare think of the happiness in store for me, but I shall go on here at school. I am glad of that. I could not give up my dear Mrs. Barrington.”
“We want to hear all the story—your side,” smiling gravely. “So if you can come and dine with us on Sunday. Oh, there are so many explanations.”
“I will see. Excuse me a few moments.” Lilian came back with a heartsome expression.
“Yes, I can come. I wanted to go to the Chapel in the morning. I suppose some of my life, at least, will be changed——”
“Yes, but it will be—yes, lovely and advantageous.I never thought Mrs. Boyd quite the right mother for you, if you will allow me to say it.”
Lilian flushed. “But she loved me with her whole soul. She would have made any sacrifice to advance me. All these years she has cared for me, worked for me and I should be an ingrate to forget it. If she had lived and this had not come, I was planning to work for her——”
“I think you would, without a demur. You would have had an excellent friend in Mrs. Barrington, but it will be a much wider life, I am very glad for you. There are people for whom prosperity does very little. You will not be one of that kind. In spite of her misfortune your mother has always had a wide and lovely influence, and the home is said to be very attractive. I think all of Mount Morris rejoiced truly in her restoration to health, and you will have some of the best of her life. You will soon learn the sweet lesson of loving her.”
“My heart went out to her the Sunday I saw her in church. She looked to me like a saint, and I did not know then, but I have felt bewildered since. And I have been so used to planning to do something for—forthe one who has gone, that I feel kind of helpless, knowing I can do nothing for her.”
“Oh, yes, you can give her a daughter’s choicest love. I am quite sure you two will grow into finest accord, and two manly brothers and that lovely Zaidee! Oh, it will be a most absorbing life. You will be in the sphere just fitted for you. Perhaps God let it all happen that your character should be the more fully shaped by the experience. We will talk it over more, at length, tomorrow.”
Miss Trenham rose and kissed the young girl tenderly, knowing that tears were very near the surface. After she had gone Lilian gave way to them. She had not the easily adaptive nature to go in her new home and take the best at once, though it had been held out with such winning tenderness. The beautiful face of Zaidee instead of adding a radiance seemed to shadow the path. She could not explain it to herself; she would not think her sister would grudge her anything, but she felt in her inmost heart it would not be given generously. She must win it by large patience.
Sunday was a perfect winter day with a gorgeous sunshine and a crisp air that seemed to bring refreshment in every waft. The leafless trees were penciled against theblue sky like the lines of a fine engraving. The church bells rang out their reverent inspiration, they were harmoniously toned and there was no jangling. Lilian wondered a little—were her parents and the two children at home kneeling in the old church where the Crawfords had worshiped for a hundred years or more? Did they offer a little prayer for her?
The father and mother said it at home. He was all impatience for the day to pass.
Oh, how delightful Mrs. Trenham’s warm welcome was, and little Claire clasped both slim arms about Lilian’s neck and kissed the cool rosy cheek over and over again. If her sister was little and fond like that!
“It’s been such a long, long while since you were here. Of course you couldn’t come while we were away. It was very nice at Mrs. Lane’s; there were so many people to make merry. You can’t be truly merry alone by yourself, can you? It’s like bells ringing. You can be happy thinking of many things, but not merry.”
Lilian smiled. Yes, the conceit was true.
Then she must inspect Claire’s Christmas gifts. Her own had been a pretty booklet that one of the girls had given her in a perfunctoryfashion that carried no real regard with it. She had been too full of anxiety to look up anything.
“And that lady that came here once who wasn’t your real mother went away, didn’t she? And Edith said you had a real mother now and you were going to live with her and not stay at school all the time. I wish I could go to school. Edith said sometime she might have a school in our own house, and I might come and say lessons with other little girls. That will be so nice. I think that will be merry.”
Then they were summoned to dinner, and the elders took the lead in the conversation, expressing their surprise at the strange event they had seen in the paper, and as they lingered over the dessert Lilian told her own story that she had believed in devoutly until Mrs. Boyd had explained her adoption, hoping thereby Lilian might trace her parentage—though Mrs. Boyd supposed only her father could be found. Mrs. Barrington had supplied the other side.
“I suppose there is a certain kind of gratification in belonging to an old and respected family. Major Crawford’s family could go back even of their first settling in America,and the madam was a proud old Virginian with a fortune, but she wanted only one son, and she had three and one daughter. All her love and pride was in her first born who was indulged in every thing and led a gay life. The youngest died, Everard went to West Point and entered the regular army. Reginald took the best of life and became a capricious invalid, as penurious as he had been wasteful before, and died about the time of the accident. The madam had been dead some years. So all of Crawford House and its belongings came to the Major, who had married one of the loveliest of girls. You have heard that part of the story from Mrs. Barrington, doubtless. She was one of the earlier scholars.”
“Yes,” replied Lilian. “She admires her, beside loving her for the bravery with which, she bore the dreadful accident.”
“I think when the word came, if prayers could have availed for the safety of the child, the whole town would have prayed, and to think that God should have saved you and restored you in this strange manner.”
Edith glanced across the table. Lilian’s eyes were suffused with tears.
“Miss Crawford had looked after the house, as the mother spent much of the time in thecity with Reginald. She was very fond of gayeties, and her sudden death was a great surprise for she seemed vigorous enough to round out the century. Miss Kate took charge of little Zay while her mother was on the journey and through those years spent in hospitals and sanitoriums. She has been most devoted, refusing several good offers of marriage, but I suppose Mrs. Barrington has told you most of the family history.”
“She is very fond of my mother and her girl life, her early married life as well, and she fancied at the very first that I resembled some one she had known.”
“There is something in the poise of the head and the shape of your chest and shoulders, that is like her, and it won’t hurt you if I say she was an extremely handsome girl. Even Reginald admitted that.”
“And I am not handsome,” Lilian said bravely, though with a little pang. It had never mattered to her before. Then she turned scarlet and added with an embarrassed laugh: “That sounds like what the girls call fishing for compliments. Zaidee will be the family beauty.”
“And you have a voice, that with the proper training, may be very fine, indeed. I noticed it this morning in the hymn.”
“Oh, do you think so? I love to sing,” and her face was a-light with pleasure. “But it seems to me that it isn’t, well—neither alto nor soprano; I can’t keep it to a true sound.”
“It is a contralto and has some most expressive notes in it. Of course, you will be trained in music.”
“Mrs. Barrington spoke of it in the next term. Some of the girls sing beautifully. I was to take up several new studies. Oh, there are so many splendid things to learn.”
Her face was aglow with enthusiasm and gave promise of something finer than mere beauty. There had been a good deal of repression in her life since she had come to understand, in a measure, her own desires. She had held them back because she did not want to make Mrs. Boyd unhappy with the difference between them, when she saw that the elder woman was making any effort to indulge her fancies, and during these months at school had settled to a grave deportment, that she might better sustain her authority. The lack of spontaneity had puzzled Mrs. Barrington, when in some moments she caught the ardor and glow of an inward possibility.
“I think you will be in the right place now,” remarked Edith with a smile. “One with astrong individuality at times surmounts adverse circumstances, but when there are so many events to hamper, one does lose courage and begins to question whether the effort and sacrifice will pay for the late reward.”
“Oh, let me have Miss Lilian awhile,” besought Claire. “I want her to inspect my playhouse, while you and mother put away the dishes and things.”
The playhouse was an old time cabinet with the doors taken off. One shelf, the highest, was full of curiosities, the next of books, the third left out and the dolls had it to themselves. There was a parlor in one end, a sleeping room in the other and three pretty dolls were in their chairs, ranged round a table, inspecting their Christmas gifts.
“I wouldn’t have any new dolls this time,” she began, with a touch of weariness in her voice. “For after all you can’t make them real. I play school with them. I read them stories. I dress them and take them out riding, but I have to do the talking for them and sometimes it gets so dull. There’s too much make-believe. I shall be glad when summer comes and there won’t be any bad boys next door. What do you suppose God did with them? They couldn’t like heaven, you know, for therethey have to be good all the time. And there are so many beautiful things in summer. The birds and the flowers and the trees waving about and the sky so full of mysterious things. Great islands go sailing about and I wish I was on one of them. I get so tired, sometimes. I don’t suppose I’ll ever have any strong back and legs until I do get to heaven. But I’d like to go about in this world. I want a fairy godmother; that is it.”
She gave a little laugh but there were tears in her eyes.
“And you’ve found a fairy godmother, haven’t you? She is real, too, and lives in a beautiful big house and has a fairy child with golden curls. Oh, I wonder if she would have been glad to have you if you had been all bruised and broken and could never walk——”
“Oh, don’t,” cried Lilian. Would they have been glad to have her?
“Now, tell me about when you were a little girl and went to the stores to buy things for your mother and played ‘Ring around a rosy,’ and ‘Open the gate as high as the sky.’”
The child’s voice and manner had changed like a flash. She liked Lilian’s make-believe stories in some moods; then she wanted realchildren and their doings, children who wiped dishes and swept floors while their mothers sewed or cared for a little baby in the cradle. And the petty disputes, the spending of a penny in candy and dividing it round.
“They couldn’t all have pennies I suppose,” the child commented.
“Their mothers were too poor,” laughed Lilian, thinking how seldom she had the pleasure of being a spendthrift. And if she were ever so rich what could she do for Claire?
So they talked on and on until Edith came and said a young gentleman had called for Lilian—her brother.
She went through to the parlor. Yes, it was Willard, bright and smiling as if glad to see her.
“But how did you know I was here?” she asked.
“Oh, I was at Mrs. Barrington’s, and we had a long talk about you. Then she directed me. It is getting towards night and our beautiful day shows symptoms of coming rain.”
Yes, it did. She had been so interested in Claire she had not noted the change.
“So I think you had better allow me to escort you home, at least—oh, I wish it were to your real home. Think, what an eveningwe would have together, and I’ve only three days more. I have to start Wednesday evening and report on Thursday. Well, will you give me the pleasure?”
He rose then, and bending over, kissed her.
“I’d like you to meet my friends——”
“Well—for a moment.”
Mrs. Trenham and Edith came in.
“Just say a quiet good-bye to Claire,” Edith whispered. “She is curiously upset about something.”
The slim arms clung to Lilian.
“Oh, will they let you come again? Edith said it would all be different and your new mother would want you, and—and—” the child ended with a sob.
“Of course I shall come again, and again, little sweetheart,” kissing her.
“Oh, what a pretty name! I love you.”
“And you will soon see me again.”
Willard stood with his hat in his hand in a waiting attitude, tall and manly, the fine face marked by a certain pride of birth, of culture, and the inherited grace of generations. The deep, outlooking eyes spoke of strength of character with a vein of tenderness, and the smiling mouth of affability. Yet it struck her that he did not seem to belong to the plainlittle parlor and it almost appeared as if he dwarfed the two women, a feeling she could not help resenting inwardly.
They made their adieus in a friendly manner. Yes, the bright day had settled to the threatening of storm. The air was heavy and murky and cut with the promise of coming sleet. Willard drew the girl’s hand through his arm and they caught step.
“I am glad you are going to be tall,” he said. “You have all the indications, the figure and the air. It runs in mother’s line as well as that of the Crawfords.”
“I am taller than—than your sister,” rather hesitatingly.
“Thanyoursister, as well. Oh, Marguerite, I hope you two will come to love each other dearly. Then there will be Vincent. We two boys have been such chums.”
“It is strange to have a new name,” she said slowly, yet it was more to her fancy.
“Do you like the old one better?” as if in a little doubt.
“I didn’t like it very much, and I remember when I rebelled against Lily. It seemed such a sing-song king of a name. It’s sweet and pretty, too, Lilian Boyd gave it more character.”
“You were named for Mother, but father did not want them quite alike. Her name was Margaret, and father used to say to her—
‘Oh, fair Margaret,Oh, rare Margaret,Where got you the name of strength and beauty?’”
Would she be dearer to her father on account of her name?
“And Zaidee?” she said, in a suggestive tone.
“Oh, I believe it was from a story that had been a great favorite with my mother, and it does just suit Zay. She is so light and airy and butterfly-like. Why, she seems about two years younger than you. I’m glad there isn’t any puzzle about telling you apart. She’s sweet and gay and loving and I suppose we’ve all spoiled her. Aunt Kate thinks she’s the loveliest thing in the world, and she has just devoted her life to the child. Aunt Kate is as good as gold, a stickler for some things and she’s always been splendid to mother. But she’s great on family. She can’t cryyoudown, because you belong to us.”
“But I’ve been on the other side all my life, and—” yes, she would say this—“Mrs. Boyd’s health was so broken that if it had not been for Mrs. Barrington’s kind offer I musthave given up school and gone into a factory; and began to repay her for her kindly care of me.”
She felt the curious sort of shrinking that passed over him.
“But you didn’t,” he said, decisively. “And if she had let you alone——”
“But she was sure my mother was dead. Oh, nothing can ever make me forget her tender, devoted love. I cannot bear to have her blamed.”
“But you must not dispute the matter with father. Let it all go since it has turned out so fortunately. I love you for your courage in standing by her, but there are many things you will learn—beliefs and usages of society. I don’t mean simply money. We Crawfords have no vulgarity with a gold veneer; and, my dear girl, you may tell all your life with Mrs. Boyd over to mother, indeed, I think she will want to know it all; but—be careful about Aunt Kate—”
“And Iwasthe caretaker’s daughter at Mrs. Barrington’s. Oh, I have seen some snobbishness among what you call well-born girls. I am not a whit better or finer than I was a month ago, when I expected to work my way up to a good salary and strive earnestly foreverything I had; and Mrs. Barrington would have helped me and been really proud of my success.”
“What a spirit you have!”
“I shall never be a snob,” she flung out, proudly.
“I do not intend to be one myself. Oh, don’t let us dispute these points. We all learn a good deal as we go along life. And, my dear, love us all as truly as you loved your foster mother. Oh, I wonder if you can ever understand your own mother’s joy at having you back—”
“Which she owes largely to Mrs. Boyd. Suppose she had died without this—this explanation?”
“Even she understood that you did not belong in her walk of life. She saw the difference and that made her feel she might have deprived you of something better, that she could not give you.”
That was true enough. But just now she was Lilian Boyd and angry, though she could not satisfy herself that she had a perfect right to this unreasonableness. So she made no reply.
“Oh, Marguerite, don’t be vexed with me. We shall not see each other for a long while,and I want to carry away with me the knowledge that you are very happy in your new home. You will have so many pleasures, interests; you will be loved; oh, you must be loving, as well. Let the past go as a strange dream.”
“It can never be a dream to me,” she returned, decisively. “A thing you have lived through is stamped on your brain. I would not, if I could, dismiss it.”
“Then I think that other love and care will make as deep an impression on your mind. Good-night, my dear sister, and best wishes for a happy tomorrow.”
He kissed her fondly and turned away. She looked after him with a swelling heart.
When the door was opened, she flew up to her room and girl fashion, went straight to the mirror. Generally she had very little color, now her cheeks bloomed like roses and her eyes were brilliant, something more, a light she had never seen in them; and, yes, her scarlet lips were shut, with dimples in the corners. Then she laughed, half in anger, half in a mood she had never known before, it was compounded of so many varieties.
At Laconia, she had known several pretty school girls but they had golden hair andlovely blue eyes. It was odd, but she had always liked the word cerulean so much. And her eyes were almost black when anything moved her deeply. She had not thought much of beauty applied to herself.
“I am glad we don’t look alike,” she mused. “I am willing to be plainer, and if I had some great gift—perhaps my voice might be cultivated. But I mean never to be ashamed of that past life. Oh, what would Willard say if he knew I had carried bundles back and forth and done errands for the dressmaker! Well I must keep that part locked in my own heart. Poor mamma Boyd, I’m glad you never understood the difference. I wish I had loved you better.”
She bathed her face and took off her cloth dress, putting on one of some light material Mrs. Barrington had given her awhile before. Then she went down stairs just as the summons for dinner sounded. Mrs. Barrington met her in the hall with a smile.
“Did you have a nice day? And did your brother find you?”
“Yes, I enjoyed it very much. And—we walked back together. He leaves on Wednesday night.”
“And is very sorry to go. He is so interestedin you. I wish he could remain longer, but he has the true sailor heart.”
Lilian felt suddenly ashamed of her anger. Of course the whole family must look at it from that point of view, which was not hers. And having a brother was such a new thing to her. She had not been thrown much with boys. Her books had been her dearest companions.
They all went to the drawing room afterward and had a pleasant talk about the day and its duties. It softened Lilian’s heart strangely. After that some almost divine music, it seemed to her, and her thoughts were lifted above distracting reflections.
The girls sang also. Several of them had very good voices but the best singers were away. Lilian was not afraid tonight, but let her voice swell out as she had in church this morning, and it surprised even herself.
When they said good-night to each other Mr. Barrington led her to her own pretty sitting room.
“I have hardly seen you today,” she began, “and though your change will not separate us altogether and is so immeasurably to your advantage, I want you to know that I had some plans for your future revolvingin my mind. I meant to have matters on a different basis when we began the new term. I did not think Mrs. Boyd would live through the winter, and as you know, I promised to care for you. You will make a fine linguist, and that is quite a gift for a woman. Then I have been interested in your voice. You sang with much power and beauty tonight. It is not the ordinary girlish voice.”
“Miss Trenham said it was a contralto. I don’t know the difference between that and an alto. Of course, I sang in school at Laconia, and took quite a part in the closing exercises. But no one seemed to think—and I couldn’t manage it always—” pausing lest she might say too much.
“It wants cultivation, and I believe has some fine probabilities. I have spoken to Mr. Reinhart about giving you private lessons in the new term.”
“Oh, how good you are! I could almost wish——” and she clasped the hand nearest her.
“No, don’t wish anything beyond what has happened. In spite of all the love and tenderness lavished upon Mrs. Crawford, it was a continual regret that she should have taken you on that ill-fated journey. Charming asZaidee is, she was always wondering what you would have been like. I think you will not disappoint her. You have been in a trying position for a girl of your ambition and temperament. I think you might have accepted some proffers without much hurt to your pride, but you know now you are on an equality with the best, and though many of these distinctions are much to be regretted, we cannot change the world. The change must be in ourselves, the grace and kindliness that shapes the character to finer and higher issues. But if you had been Mrs. Boyd’s daughter, I think there would have been a very promising future before you. I know you would have tried your utmost to succeed in the two lines I have indicated; and now they will be accomplishments. Mrs. Crawford was a fine linguist and has brightened many an hour with intellectual pursuits. I am more than glad that you will be so companionable, but I cannot give up my interest in you, and I want you to feel that you will be, in part, a daughter to me.”
Lilian bent her head down on Mrs. Barrington’s shoulder and cried softly, touched to the inmost heart by the affection she had hardly dreamed she had won.
“There are no quite perfect lives even if there is a great deal of love,” the lady continued. “We learn to limit our wants and expectations by what others have to give us, and it is by loving that we learn to live truly, though many shrines get despoiled of ideals as we go along in youth; but as we retrace our steps with years and experience we find God has put something better in them. I want you to come to me with any difficulty that can be confided outside of the family circle. But your mother must be your best friend; and now, dear, good-night.”
Lilian returned the kiss, but her heart was too full for words. Tomorrow she would belong somewhere else, have new duties. Oh, could she take them up in the right spirit?
CHAPTER XVYOUR TRUE HOME
Marguerite Crawford felt that she had been truly changed to some other personality when the carriage stopped under the broadporte cochere, and the driver opened the door with a bow for his master. There had been a slight fall of snow in the night that had wrapped every post and every tree in a mantle of jewels, and now the sun came out gorgeously, sending golden rays over the dappled sky of blue and white.
Her father handed her out. Willard ran down the wide steps taking both her hands in his and kissing her fondly. A passion of regret flooded her.
“Oh,” in a broken tone. “I was rude and ungenerous to you yesterday. I am sorry—”
“We will let that go, I knew you would regret it. I tried to look at it from your point of view, and I think you couldn’t resemble mother so much in looks and not in character.”
Her father took her other arm. “Welcome home, my dear daughter,” he exclaimed. “All our years together will prove how glad we are to have you.”
The hall was like a beautiful larger room, with pictures and statuary and some elegant vases that would have dwarfed a smaller space.
“This is my sister, Miss Crawford—Aunt Kate, to you always; who has been like a mother to my children—”
Aunt Kate bent over from her tallness and gave her a perfunctory kiss. Zay clasped both arms around her.
“Oh, isn’t it queer,” with a musical ripple. “You certainly were a princess in disguise at school, and some of the girls said you were my double to tease me; but I don’t think we look very much alike; do you, papa?”
She raised her radiant face with the pearly complexion, bewitching mouth and shining eyes. Marguerite looked rather pale and cold with the strangeness.
Then they went up to the mother’s room, but Aunt Kate paused at the door and turned in another direction. Zay and Willard followed her. Marguerite went to her mother’s arms and for many seconds neither spoke.
“What a strange, long waiting without any hope,” said the father at length. “I have often thought what Marguerite would be like if she had lived, and it always was impressed uponme that she would be like her mother. If I could have wished it—”
The child raised her head. The dark lashes were beaded with tears.
“I am sorry not to be as beautiful,” she said, with great humility. “I must make up any deficiency by my love and devotion. Oh, it seems as if I had gone into some divine country when love filled the very atmosphere.”
She held out her hand to her father who crushed it in a tender clasp.
“But you are looking pale and weary, mother.” What a sweet word it was to say when it was true.
“I have had a great deal of excitement these last few days, then the nurse had to go away to a more serious case, but I have tried to obey her injunctions,” smiling a little. “Probably I shall never be very robust again, but nothing like this will try nerves. I think I have stood it exceedingly well,” glancing up at her husband. “I was very quiet all day yesterday, but I could not help dreaming of the years to come——”
“I hope God will give me strength to make them happy. Oh, I want to give you the best of love and service and never pain you by any lack. For youarethe mother I have longedfor, who could capture and fill my desires. I would like to work for you——”
“My dear, if you could be so devoted to the mother who was not your ideal and could not understand your thoughts and feelings, I shall try to come nearer and fill your whole heart, sympathize with your aspirations. I shall be glad to listen to them. Oh, my child, if you had been dull and coarse, but you simply could not have been, and this Mrs. Boyd must have had a certain refinement. I appreciate her more every day as I think it over.”
“Oh, I thank you for that. It seems to me that I must have been willful at times; but I wanted to take her out of that narrow round as well as myself. I felt so certain I could do it after we came to Mrs. Barrington’s. She understood my aims.”
“You fell into good hands. Oh, how many times we shall talk this over, for I want to know all the incidents of these years we have been apart. When I have lived them with you, I shall feel more truly still that I am your mother. And now are you not a little curious about your new home?”
Mrs. Crawford rose with her arm about the girl, and Marguerite glanced about the room.It was exquisitely appointed. The second story rooms were ranged about an oval that gave a picturesque aspect. This and the sleeping rooms were toward the east; Mrs. Crawford had a passion for sunrise. On one side was Zay’s room, adjoining it Aunt Kate’s. Opposite, two guest rooms with bath and closets. It all seemed like some lovely description she had read of in books. Her girl’s heart and the refined tastes that had been her birthright seemed to leap for joy. Was she really to live amid all this loveliness!
“We talked of your room on Friday. We couldn’t take Zay away from Aunt Kate to put you two together. Willard had this room next to my sitting room, when he came home on vacations; sometimes, both boys; they are very fond of each other. So he proposed his should be yours and had everything taken out and the walls tinted afresh. But we couldn’t order new furniture at once, so we brought this from one of the guest chambers. Some day you may choose for yourself. He took out the real boys’ pictures except ‘Night and Morning’ which are great favorites of his and his two bookcases. In one he has left all his poets; at heart, he is a rather romantic fellow. And the other you must fill up to your liking.”
“Oh, how could he be so kind to me, when—” and Marguerite swallowed over a great sob.
“He is so glad for me. And he thinks it is truly a gift of Providence that you should come, now that he is going away. Three years! Yet I have waited so many years for these great blessings; prayed for them, if one’s ardent wish is a prayer.”
“Did you ever pray for me?” asked Marguerite in a low awed tone.
“I prayed that if I died I should find you in that beautiful other country. And sometimes I almost believed I should find you here. Invalids have curious fancies almost like visions. Perhaps God gave me the hope to enable me to endure the suffering and to be comparatively well again and to have you—”
There was the summons to luncheon. The Major came for his wife, Willard met his sister in the hall. The dining room was perfectly appointed, with stands of flowers and ferns that made almost a garden of it. A few blossoms were laid beside each one’s plate. The butler seated them noiselessly. Aunt Kate was at the head of the table; she had kept the place so long that Mrs. Crawford would not hear of any change.She sat at the right of her husband, Marguerite at the left; Jay and Willard were opposite.
Margueritewasnervous, but she did just as the others. She felt that Aunt Kate’s sharp eyes were upon her. Nearly always, she and her mother had taken their meals together; on Sunday, specially invited to dine with Mrs. Barrington and Miss Arran. Mrs. Boyd shrank from these occasions but the girl seemed guiding her with an almost imperceptible grace.
And although the luncheon came in courses it was not ornate. Marguerite began to feel quite at ease. There was some bright talk, but she did not join that, only now and then answering when her father appealed to her. But every moment she felt more at home.
When they rose Willard took her arm.
“You must examine your new home,” he began, laughingly. “If you shouldn’t like it—”
“I’d deserve to be banished to Laconia and live in an atmosphere of soot and dust and all manner of noises,” she answered, brightly.
“This is the drawing room. In my grandmother’s time they used to have famousgatherings. Uncle Reginald was a great society man, and Aunt Kate quite a belle, but the Madam as she was called, spent her money lavishly. That was in her own right. Much of this furniture came from abroad. But I will do her the justice to say that she did not despise the old Crawford heirlooms that were handsome. Some of them are two centuries old, when people loved to carve and ornament and never compared their time with money. Uncle Reginald was very handsome in his early days and her favorite. Father went to West Point.”
The room was certainly full of choice belongings. At the end, a full length portrait of Madame Crawford, painted by a famous French artist during one of her visits to Paris. The satin and velvet of her gown looked real and her laces were magnificently done. Shewashandsome and set them off beautifully. A string of sapphires encircled her throat and from it depended three pendants of diamonds so skilfully done that in certain lights they emitted rays. A handsome woman, truly, but proud and haughty.
“She only wanted one son so that the Crawford estate need not be divided. She was not in favor of large families, while fatherwould have been glad of at least half a dozen. So you may judge how delighted he is to have you. This is the library. There is a small fortune in the books. Great-grandfather Crawford was an eager collector. Father has been offered big prices for some of the rare editions.”
At the farther end of the library there were wide glass doors that opened into a conservatory, where the choicest flowers were kept, and curious ferns. Just beyond was the propagating room and where the tired-out bloomers were put for recuperation.
Marguerite was speechless with admiration. She glanced up with a lovely smile and her dark eyes were lustrous. “Oh,” she murmured, with a long sigh, “I never saw anything so lovely! And that I should have come here to live—”
“Our next door neighbors have quite as much beauty, only it is rather more modern. But their conservatory is magnificent. Such a show of orchids is unusual. But Mount Morris is a rather aristocratic place, that is not wholly given over to fashion, but where people have lovely things to enjoy and are not trying to distance each other unless it is in the matter of choice flowers,” and helaughed. “Mother is so fond of them.”
She thought she could linger there all the remainder of the day, but presently Willard turned and they retraced their steps. Major Crawford stood in the hall.
“Shall we go for our walk, Willard?” he asked. “I think mother would like Marguerite.”
She made a pretty inclination of the head and went up stairs feeling as if she was in fairyland. Mrs. Crawford lay on the lounge with a beautiful Persian wrap thrown over her.
“Will you come and read to me?” she asked in a winsome tone. “I want to hear your voice in poetry; Mrs. Barrington said you were a fine reader. I hope you love verse. The dainty little ones are a great pleasure to me, fugitive verses, as they are called. They have soothed many a painful hour.”
“Are you very tired?” Marguerite bent over and kissed her.
“No, my dear, only this is part of my German doctor’s regimen. He sent a nurse home with me, and last week she went back to assist him with a peculiar case; and I have certain directions to follow, which I obey, implicitly. One is to take a rest after luncheon. Then,I like to be read to. I am something of a spoiled child, you see.”
“I shall be glad to go on with the spoiling,” the girl said in a sweet, earnest tone. “I want to do all I can to make you happy—to make up for the years when you did not have me.”
Marguerite’s eyes were lustrous with deep feeling. Her words went to the mother’s heart.
“Let me see—find ‘In Memoriam.’ How many times in the last few days I have said over to myself:
“If one should bring me this reportThat thou hads’t touched the land today,And I went down unto the quay,And found thee lying in the port,”
Marguerite took the beautifully bound volume in her hand and it gave her a thrill.
“Some poems are adapted to this or that one’s voice, like songs. The Major reads Browning and that is saved especially for him. Willard loves Stevenson and Eugene Field’s children’s verses. Zaidee the light gay caroling things, and those arch, sweet Irish poems. But your voice sounded to me as if you loved Tennyson and Whittier.”
“I have not had the opportunity of reading Tennyson very much, but I thought the Christmas verses most beautiful. I hope I shall please you,” hesitatingly.
Mrs. Crawford listened attentively. There was a depth and richness in the voice, an impressive, penetrating emotion that betrayed the harmony with the lines. And when she had finished that poem, she said in a low tone:
“Shall I go on?”
“Yes,” replied the mother.
It was so beautiful that Marguerite forgot herself in the poet’s deep feeling—so human, so comforting—she could have read on until dusk, but Mrs. Crawford turned presently.
“I must not tire you for I shall want you to read to me often. Do you sing? I suppose you have not begun to play?”
“No, Mrs. Barrington thought I would, in the new term. And she also thought my voice was—” Marguerite paused, afraid of being too presuming.
“Worth cultivating, was not that what she said? It is a contralto that can express profound depths of feeling. I had it years ago and your father was wild over it. He will be delighted. Zay’s voice is a light soprano. She plays very well. Yes, you must take up music.”
“Oh, mother, it doesn’t seem as if so many lovely things should come to me!”
“Why not, when you have been in the desert all these years?”
They clasped each other in a fond embrace. Oh, was it really true that she was a daughter of the house, that she had a right to the love and care? Could she ever give enough to repay?
There was a stir down stairs and some merry voices. Major Crawford rejoined his wife presently.
“The two Chichester girls to see if the children are sure to go to the Van Ordens, though I think their eagerness is most for Will,” laughing. “His gay time will soon be over. Zay’s as well. Next week school will begin, and Marguerite must come under rules. The chief one is that there is no frollicking until Friday evening, no holiday until Saturday.”
“Oh, I wish girls did not have to grow up so fast. Think how soon they will be sixteen,” bemoaned the mother.
“I kept another birthday,” said Marguerite. “I am glad to go back even the few months.”
“You look as if you were beginning to feel athome,” said her father. “Oh, I hope we shall have many, many happy years together.”
Marguerite’s heart was too full to reply. She looked at him with eyes like her mother’s, only they were a little deeper.
Zay came flying up stairs.
“Have I neglected you all the afternoon? We found a bad rent in my pretty frock and Aunt Kate had to change the skirt. Then I wanted to write some letters and the days are so short.”
She kissed her mother rapturously; then went and sat on her father’s knee.
“And the Chichesters want us to dinner tomorrow and a little dance afterward. It is Will’s last nibble at pleasure. Oh, why didn’t you make him choose some real business, you naughty father, so he could have stayed at home like a respectable citizen.”
“And had a sweetheart. Then what would you have done?”
“Looked up a sweetheart also. Oh, must he go Wednesday night?”
“Think what a nice long holiday he has had!”
“And think of three desolate years!”
“They may be more desolate for us than for him. But it was his choice.”
He entered the room just then. Had Marguerite found any special entertainment? What had Zay been doing?
“Oh, writing letters. Marguerite be glad you have not forty dear friends who are crying write, write all the time.”
No there was only one person she had written to. That was Sally Weeks at Laconia, and if Sally answered—well, she was lame on spelling, if she had a good generous heart.
Zay and her aunt had done something beside writing and mending the party frock. They had discussed Marguerite.
“Well,” Aunt Kate had said with a long and rather unwilling accent, “she might have been worse. Her table manners are passable. I do suppose she has picked up a good deal at Mrs. Barrington’s. But she has a rather uncertain air, and we shall have to hunt her up some clothes. I must talk to your mother about it.”
“Oh, dear, what a fuss there will be at school; I wish it was all over! I do wonder what Louie Howe will say! We had some talks—well, I could see how some of the girls felt.”
“I think that was very natural. I suppose shewaspresuming.”
“No, she wasn’t,” returned Zay with heightened color. “I want to be fair to her for sheismy sister. I think I’d rather be an only daughter, but father will be just as fond of me, I am sure. I don’t know about the boys; but then Vincent won’t be home until next summer. I suppose we’ll all go to West Point. Of course, I couldn’t well have stayed with mother this afternoon, so I don’t mind her being there—”
“Zay you are very generous and unsuspecting. I should be sorry to have any influence undermine your love. You have been all to your mother.”
“But I can’t be all now, I see that. Still I’ll have you, aunt Kate, and I won’t give up my place in her heart. Oh, trust me to keep that.”
Aunt Kate was anxious for her favorite and though she did not mean to be ungenerous, she could not so cordially rejoice. If the girl had been awkward or underbred, she could have taken her in hand with a good grace. But she was not likely to ask anything of her.
Dinner was a rather more elaborate meal. It did seen odd to wait for some one to help to the smallest thing and she wondered how Mrs. Boyd would feel to have some onestanding at her back and anticipating her wishes before they were hardly formulated. But there was a certain dignity and pleasure in it with no jar or awkwardness. How did she come to take to it naturally? She did not seem to feel embarrassed, and how lovely the room looked with the lights and the still hanging Christmas greens.
When Zaidee came in to wish her mother good-night, she did indeed look like a fairy being. Her frock was some soft, diaphanous stuff over a pale green slip, some of her curls were tied up high on her head and the ribbon and that of her sash matched. Three strings of pearl beads were about her white throat. Marguerite smiled to herself—Miss Nevins would call that very poor party attire.
“Don’t stay late,” Major Crawford said to his son.
“Oh, we couldn’t,” declared Zay laughing. “It’s a school girls’ ‘Small and early.’ We begin at eight and the musicians depart at ten and we go to refreshments, and by eleven,
“‘The lights are fled the music dead,And all of us departed.’”
“That is just as it should be,” declared aunt Kate, “if you wish to keep roses and bright eyes for pleasure later on.”
Zay kissed her parents. Marguerite was sitting a little out of range, but Willard bent over and gave her a tender good-night. Then aunt Kate wrapped her niece in a lovely evening cloak trimmed with white fox and drew the hood up carefully, and the carriage soon whisked them to their destination.
“Oh, how beautiful she looks!” Marguerite exclaimed involuntarily.
The mother smiled tenderly.
“Zaidee has grown up with her beauty,” said the father. “I used to be afraid aunt Kate would spoil her and lead her to think beauty was the great thing to strive for, but she takes it as a matter of course. I hope she will be as indifferent about it when she is grown to womanhood, for nothing destroys the charm like that ultraconsciousness and the bid for admiration. So many things beside beauty of feature go to make up the charm of an interesting woman.”
She must be interesting, Marguerite thought. There were so many delightful qualities one could cultivate. Mrs. Barrington was charming, and Miss Arran had so many nice quiet ways, that she had insensibly copied; her low toned voice, her never seeming to hurry and yet going about any matter as if it wasthe first thing to be done; her little orderly methods. She kept her mother’s room neat, she put the books back in their places; there was a cluster of autumn leaves in a vase, or a sprig of spruce or cedar that for a long while would put forth new leaves. She was very glad now that she had taken so much pains. Was she rather unpolished when they had first come from Laconia. But her circle there was so different.
She told over only the best of it when her father asked about her life there. Wasn’t this what Willard had meant and she had resented? She would try not to be ashamed of the poor and plain living since it was the best Mrs. Boyd could give; but she knew even then she was longing and planning for something better.
And a room like this for her very own! She liked it better because her very own brother had planned it for her. She looked over some of the books and above his name he had written—“For my Sister Marguerite.” And she was glad with a sense of mystery she did not care to fathom that her mother’s room was between her and Zaidee’s.
What a long day it had been. Yet in a certain sense happy, as happy as any strange beautiful place with a father and mother,—thelatter she had not even dreamed of when she had thought a father might be found. Oh, she must be very grateful to God for sending her here where the tangle could be resolved in such an honorable manner and she must try to be worthy of all the love lavished upon her. The whole world broadened and she was part of the higher life. She was looking up to the hill tops where human endeavors must aspire even though there were failures, and to the west over beyond the land of eternal love and golden fruition.