CHAPTER V.
The Widow Gray had a very romantic turn of mind, and she had not forgotten her young days yet, so it was easy enough for her to find out that the two young folks were already deeply in love.
“And no wonder, either,” she said to herself, sagely, “for the two beautiful young things seem to be made for each other.”
Accordingly, she helped out the romance all she could by insisting on the girl’s coming every day to help while away the invalid’s lonely hours, saying, cheerfully:
“For you know that just as soon as Mr. Chester gets well enough to be going about he will be right up at Wheatlands, paying back your visits two to one.”
Thus encouraged, Leola came and went daily, making long visits without exciting any suspicion at home, for she was used to having her own way, and no one interfered with her liberty.
It was quite a week that Ray Chester was detained at the cottage, for although he made light of his injuries, he was very much bruised, and felt stiff and sore, and the little gash on his temple was deep enough to take some time in healing, and even then it would leave a scar under his thick, brown curls that would always remain to remind him of lovely Leola’s bravery in saving his life at the risk of her own.
But that week went away so quickly, so happily, in that golden June weather, that when it was over they could not realize the lapse of days.
“It seemed like one exquisite day,” they said to each other.
The programme of their days had been something like this:
Leola called every morning on Rex, and remained until the midday meal at Wheatlands. After appearing at this hour she slipped away again, returning to the cottage and staying till she had to go home to supper. Her regularity at these meals warded off any suspicion that she spent the intervening hours in the company of a very charming young man, who would render all Wizard Hermann’s schemes to marry her off to her unknown suitor quite null and void.
After supper, then, came the lonely time, for Leola had to remain at home and play to the governess on the piano in the dingy parlor, whose faded hangings had not been renovated for years. As this had been a yearly practice, she could not omit it without exciting wonder on the part of the spinster lady who had acted as her governess and companion since early childhood, and, now that school days were over, looked after the housekeeping, staying on indefinitely, not seeming to have either friends or suitors.
Yet, although she was over forty now, Miss Tuttle had not given over a scarcely-concealed hope of marrying.
As she was very thin and tall, her secret choice had fallen on her exact opposite, a neighboring widower about fifty, who was rather short and very stout, and had recently come into a fortune by selling some valuable coal-lands in Greenbrier county.
Miss Tuttle having been in love with neighbor Bennett when he was in moderate circumstances, only loved him the harder when he became so rich that he did not know how to spend his money.
Some neighborly kindnesses he had certainly shown her, but not as many as she wished, and no amount of scheminghad sufficed to bring him to the point of proposing.
Thus absorbed in her own love-affair, it was no wonder that Miss Tuttle paid small attention to Leola’s comings and goings, regarding her still as a pretty child who had heretofore laughed at love and lovers.
So there were none to molest the lovers and make them afraid, for Wizard Hermann, though he did not give over his scheme, held his peace and went his way in cunning silence, giving Leola time to get over her fright.
Even Doctor Barnes, who had not found it necessary to pay but three visits to his patient, did not know of the romance going on at the cottage, and being very busy with the measles, just then epidemic in Alderson and the country round about, he had no time to gossip about the stranger whose life Leola Mead had saved. As there were none who knew Ray Chester, so there were none to worry over him; and beneath the matronly chaperonage of kind Widow Gray their secret love bloomed into a splendid flower whose strong roots only death could tear away.
“I love you, sweet: how can you ever learnHow much I love you?” “You I love even so,And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you cannot knowHow fair you are.” “If fair enough to earnYour love, so much is all my hour’s concern.”“My love grows hourly, sweet!” “Mine, too, doth grow,Yet love seemed full so many hours ago.”The lovers speak till kisses claim their turn.
“I love you, sweet: how can you ever learnHow much I love you?” “You I love even so,And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you cannot knowHow fair you are.” “If fair enough to earnYour love, so much is all my hour’s concern.”“My love grows hourly, sweet!” “Mine, too, doth grow,Yet love seemed full so many hours ago.”The lovers speak till kisses claim their turn.
“I love you, sweet: how can you ever learnHow much I love you?” “You I love even so,And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you cannot knowHow fair you are.” “If fair enough to earnYour love, so much is all my hour’s concern.”“My love grows hourly, sweet!” “Mine, too, doth grow,Yet love seemed full so many hours ago.”The lovers speak till kisses claim their turn.
“I love you, sweet: how can you ever learn
How much I love you?” “You I love even so,
And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you cannot know
How fair you are.” “If fair enough to earn
Your love, so much is all my hour’s concern.”
“My love grows hourly, sweet!” “Mine, too, doth grow,
Yet love seemed full so many hours ago.”
The lovers speak till kisses claim their turn.
“It cannot surely be a whole week; was it not only yesterday?” cried the doting lover.
But Leola counted off the days to him on her rosy fingers.
“It was Tuesday when first we met—Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and now it is Tuesday again! And I have been to see you twice every day, Ray! But to-morrow I cannot come at all, for there is a horrid picnic to which Miss Tuttle insists on taking me, and I cannot refuse lest she find me out.”
“Why, then, I shall go to the picnic, too. I adore picnics!” cried Ray Chester.
“But you are not invited. It’s a Sunday school picnic, you see, Ray, and you are not acquainted with anybody.”
“I’ll invite myself, and get acquainted with everybody there in less than an hour,” he answered, gayly; and calling to Mrs. Gray, who was watering her geraniums in the yard, he said:
“Aren’t you going to the picnic to-morrow?”
“Perhaps so—only I shall have to leave you a cold dinner,” she said, hesitatingly, coming up to the vine-wreathed porch in whose shadow the lovers were sitting.
“I’ll go with you if you let me!” cried Ray; “and you will introduce me to everybody there as your new boarder.”
“And to Miss Tuttle in particular; and mind you show her much attention, Ray, for then she will ask you to Wheatlands,” laughed Leola, falling into the spirit of the thing, for it came to her suddenly that by this means she and Ray could go on courting under her guardian’s very nose without being suspected.
“Miss Tuttle is so vain she will easily think Ray is in love with her,” she thought, merrily, and so they all laid their plans for to-morrow.
The picnic came off in a beautiful grove, and Widow Gray’s new boarder kept his word, and got acquainted with everybody there inside of an hour.
He was specially gracious to the smiling Miss Tuttle, who herself presented him to Leola, saying:
“Miss Mead, the little girl to whom I have been governess over ten years.”
The little girl bowed demurely, and said she was glad to meet Miss Tuttle’s friend, and then she turned carelessly away, and was particular not to interrupt his chat with the spinster until by his assiduity he got the coveted invitation to call.