CHAPTER VII.
It was the bitterest hour of her life to poor Miss Tuttle.
While she was talking to old Hermann she heard merry voices out of doors, and knew that Ray Chester had arrived and was sitting out in the rose arbor laughing and talking with beautiful Leola, who had turned out to be her rival when she thought her only a merry-hearted young girl.
She wondered if it could be true, as her employer said, that no one would look at her twice when his lovely ward was by, and now she sadly remembered several little things that made her sure that his words were true.
Sometimes, when the three went for long walks together, the younger pair would quite tire her out, but they would insist on going still further, leaving her waiting under some shady tree with a novel for an hour sometimes, while they hunted wild flowers or bird’s nests, and their happy laughter would come ringing back as if they did not miss her in the least, as now she suddenly realized they did not; they only wanted her for an elderly chaperon.
But somehow this did not hurt her as much as the seeming perfidy of Widower Bennett, whom she loved with all her warm heart and at whom she had been making tender eyes ever since his wife died a year or so ago. She had persuaded herself she would be the most proper wife he could find anywhere, and to find Leola preferred before herself was like the bitterness of death.
She could not help envying and hating the lovely girl with the weakness of a shallow nature suddenly roused to bitter jealousy, and when she hurried away from Wizard Hermann’s presence to her own room, she was half resolved to pack her trunk and go away forever to hide her humiliation and grief.
But while she bathed her stained face and smoothed her rather pretty brown hair, she reflected that she had nowhere to go, for all her relatives were dead, and she had no friends of any consequence.
Poor soul, how she longed for a home and husband of her own! But the realization of her dream seemed further off than ever now, and as she stood at her window gulping down her piteous sobs, she heard again, from the rose arbor, the gay laughter of the lovers, and curiosity made her descend to them, wondering what had caused their mirth.
Leola, as pretty as a flower in her white gown, had a letter in her hand,and she and Ray, with their heads very close, were laughing over it together.
“Oh, Miss Tuttle, this is so ridiculous I have laughed till I cried,” said Leola. “Only think, I have a lover, and he has made me a proposal of marriage.”
“And,” added Ray, laughingly, “it is such a brilliant and desirable match that she is almost sorry she had promised to marry me before she received it!”
“So you two are engaged?” cried Miss Tuttle, feeling the ground sink beneath her feet.
“Oh, yes, Miss Tuttle, and I know you are not surprised. Won’t you congratulate us?” cried Leola’s handsome lover.
“But please, please, don’t tell Uncle Hermann, for I think I begin to see through his plans now, and he will never consent for me to marry a poor artist when I could marry his rich neighbor, old Mr. Bennett,” laughed Leola.
Poor Miss Tuttle gasped for breath, and sank helplessly on a garden chair, wishing she were dead and buried, so keen was her pain and humiliation.
“You may read the old man’s letter if you like,” added the girl, thrusting it into her hand.
The sorrowful spinster, who would have given all she possessed for such a letter, was forced to read the gushing and awkward love letter of the rich old widower to the merry girl, who laughed over it with her handsome young lover, and gayly passed around the fine box of bonbons that accompanied the epistle.
“The dear old silly! I thought he looked on me still as a little girl,” she cried. “Now if he had only been sensible and asked you, Miss Tuttle, it would have been a charming arrangement in point of age and all that, you know.”
Miss Tuttle winced at the innocent thrust of the happy girl, but she was so miserable that her pride fell from her like a garment, and she frankly assented, saying:
“Yes, for I always admired Mr. Bennett, and if he had asked me I would have accepted him.”
The young people instantly felt very sorry and sympathetic, and Leola proposed that when she gave him her answer she should give him a hint that he would be more successful with the governess than with the pupil.
Miss Tuttle was so moved by this offer that she felt all her anger and jealousy give way, and took Leola into her heart again.
“Oh, if you could only manage it I would be grateful forever,” she exclaimed. “You know I cannot stay on at Wheatlands when you are gone, Leola, for people would talk, and besides the fact that he is in arrears for my salary, we have had a bitter quarrel this morning,” and then, between tears and sobs, she blurted out all Wizard Hermann’s plans to the astonished lovers.
Then Leola recalled the morning, three weeks ago, when her guardian had bidden her prepare to be married in a month to the man of his choice.
“So this is my rich suitor—old Bennett!” she burst out, laughing, for she could not regard it seriously at all, not realizing Wizard Hermann’s grim determination.
“Why do you call him old? He is only about fifty or so, and a fine, handsome man!” complained the tearful governess.
She could hardly understand why the volatile Leola burst into spasms of the merriest laughter, in which Ray Chester could not help joining. Alas, they were so gay and happy, they were full of joy and laughter, little dreaming of the tragic moment near at hand when tears would come more readily than smiles, and the dull ache at the heart would be like a piercing thorn.
“If I were you, Leola, I would not feel so gay, for your guardian swears he will enforce his authority and have you marry Mr. Bennett, willy-nilly!” reproved Miss Tuttle, anxiously.
The girl looked gayly at her lover, and he caught her little hand in his, saying, tenderly:
“We aren’t afraid of him, are we, my precious Leola? And if the worst comes to the worst, we will elope to Washington and get married before old Bennett knows what we are up to.”
“If you were only rich there needn’t be any trouble. You could pay off the mortgage for Mr. Hermann, and then he would be willing enough for you to have Leola!” suggested Miss Tuttle, inquiringly.
Ray’s dark blue eyes looked questioningly into those of his bonny sweetheart.
“Are you sorry I’m not rich? Would you rather have your old suitor?” he asked, gently.
“Nonsense; I’d take you without a coat to your back before I would have that old Falstaff, with all his money,” she answered, laughingly, and they dismissed the thought of danger, for how could anyone force a girl to marry against her will?
“But perhaps, after all, I had better see your guardian, and ask him for his consent to our marriage?” questioned Ray.
The governess shook her head.
“No, do not anger him now, for he is really in such a rage he might set the dogs on you, who knows?”
“Oh, very well, we need not hurry. It will all blow over by-and-by,” cried Leola, in her happy-go-lucky way, and presently, when Ray had taken leave, she went up to her room and penned an amiable but decided refusal of Mr. Bennett’s offer, saying she would prefer tomarry a younger man, and frankly advising him to turn his attention to Miss Tuttle, who admired him immensely, and would make him the best wife in the world.
When she showed this effort to the governess, that lady promptly hugged and kissed her, and declared she was the dearest girl on earth.
A special messenger carried the missive over to the Bennett place, and Leola congratulated herself that the episode was closed.
But who can tell what a day may bring forth?
Leola’s whole life had been carelessly happy, for she was blessed with one of those sweet, sunshiny natures that always look on the bright side, and find pleasure in the simple joys of even a quiet life. She made her own sunshine as she went.
For more than three weeks now she had been blissfully happy—so happy that in all her future she will look back in wonder that such perfect happiness could be, for, alas, this was the end of those golden days of love’s sweet dream.
That night, at supper, Wizard Hermann said, casually, as if it were a matter of small moment:
“Mrs. Stirling and Jessie will arrive on the early train to-morrow.”