Such a cry of delight as went up when Persis discovered her sister. “Why, Lisa! Lisa! Lisa!” she exclaimed, her voice rising with each reiteration. “When did you come? How did you get here? Oh, you dear old thing! Let me see if your eyes have a slant upward, and if you wear bodkins stuck in your hair. No, you look quite, quite natural.” And the hugging that followed left scarce breath for utterance to either of them.
“Didn’t I surprise you nicely?” said Lisa, at length. “I sent a despatch from ’Frisco, but you were away, and Mell begged mamma not to let you know, and I am glad she didn’t. Yes, I am safe and sound. I had a chance to come with some friends as far as New York and the rest of the way was nothing. Let me look at you, Perse. You haven’t grown as much as Melly. I believe she is as tall as you.”
“Yes, she is, and a wee bit taller,” confessed Persis. “Now tell me all about yourself. Oh, my, but weshall have to talk all night for a week, to catch up. Aunt Esther didn’t come with you?”
“No; the captain is there for three years, you know. I just had to come home, although I have had a perfectly lovely time. Oh, Persis, how you would enjoy seeing that interesting Japan! Aunt Esther did everything in the world to make it pleasant for me, and—well, altogether it has been a great experience.”
Persis’s eyes were roving over her sister, dwelling on her beauty and taking in every detail of her face and figure. Presently she darted forward and caught Lisa’s hand. “Lisa,” she cried, “where did you get that ring? Did Aunt Esther give it to you?” And Lisa blushed up to her eyes.
“That?” she answered, trying to look unconcerned. “No, Aunt Esther didn’t give it to me. Oh, Persis, I shall have to tell you. I am engaged.”
Persis dropped the hand on which the diamond shone, and looked as if she were ready either to laugh or cry. “Not to a Japanese!” she said, quizzically.
“You ridiculous girl. No; although one might go farther and fare much worse.”
“You couldn’t go much farther,” answered Persis.
“Well, he isn’t a Japanese. He is abonâ fidestars-and-stripes American; so much so that he is in the United States navy,—a lieutenant, Perse, and his name is Richard Griffith.”
“Oh, yes; I remember your having written about him to us. Go on; tell me everything.”
“Well, he went out on the same steamer that we did to join his ship, and right away I liked him. Hehas another year’s sea duty; then he will have land duty for three years, and—he is a dear, good fellow.”
“Of course. Although I always have heard that these naval officers are great flirts, and are not always as moral as they should be. Who is he the most like,—the Popinjay or Mr. Dan?”
Lisa blushed a little. “He isn’t like either of them. He is thoroughly manly and intelligent, and yet he likes society; and as for his morals, he is as good as gold. Even Aunt Esther approves of him.”
“And are you dreadfully in love with him?”
“What a probe you are, Perse. Of course I am.”
“How could you come away, then?”
“Because I do care so much for him that I wanted to come home to get ready to be married.”
“Oh, Lisa, not yet. You are so young.”
“That is what mamma says; but I think when Richard is recalled and she sees him, she will consent. Now tell me all about your trip. I have had a chance to hear most of the home news, for I have been home a day and a half.”
“I’m so flabbergasted by your news,” returned Persis, “that everything else is knocked out of my head. I wish your young man were here for me to see.”
“So do I; but I can show you his photograph.” And Lisa produced the picture.
“He isn’t handsome, but he has a nice face.”
“No, he isn’t specially good-looking, but he is just my dear Rick, and I would not have him any different.” And Lisa put away the photograph a littlejealously. “I told you we met on the way out, and I have seen him nearly every day since, so you see we have had a good opportunity of knowing each other well.”
Here came a knock at the door, and a box was handed in by Lyddy. “For you, Miss Persis.”
“For me?” And Persis opened the box with some curiosity. “Oh, see, Lisa: flowers from Mr. Dan. I wasn’t here at Easter, so he has sent them as a welcome home. Isn’t it nice of him?”
“Yes; very. I hear great accounts of you and Mr. Dan. I think he will suit you very well, Perse.”
“Suit me? What do you mean? Why, Lisa, I never gave him a sentimental thought. We are just good comrades; that’s all. He has been awfully good to me. Do you suppose——” And Persis stopped. Could there be any other than friendship’s message intended to be conveyed by the flowers? “Nonsense!” she said. “We’re in business together; that’s all. Don’t you put notions in my head, Miss Lisa, and go thinking every one is in your fix.”
Lisa laughed and then looked rather thoughtful. “I’m going to tell you a secret, Perse. I don’t mind your knowing it now, for it’s all done with long ago, but do you know, when I went away I was quite interested in Mr. Dan myself.”
“You! Why, Lisa, I thought you couldn’t bear him. Then that is why you acted so.”
Lisa nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was,” she said, after a moment’s reflection. “I told mamma, and that was why she was willing to have me go with AuntEsther, for, Persis, he wasn’t near so much interested in me as I was in him, and I was getting unhappy over it; so you see I did just the right thing. Of course, girls often do have two or three fancies sometimes before they really find their true love. Mamma was such a help. She saw just how it all was, and she wrote me exactly the best things to make me get over it. Don’t think for a moment that I owe Mr. Danforth a grudge; in fact, I feel myself rather under obligations to him, for he opened my eyes to several very wholesome truths, and I am sure I should never have appreciated Richard’s goodness quite so much if Mr. Danforth had not shown me what to avoid in men and what qualities to cultivate in myself. Really I feel quite inclined to offer him my thanks.”
Persis was very thoughtful. “I should like to have had Mr. Dan for a brother,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I wish you hadn’t told me, for I shall always be regretting. I wish now you had not gone away, for it might have been different after a while.”
Lisa shook her head. “That is disloyalty to my Richard, to which I shall not listen. Come, Perse, let’s go down. I haven’t seen grandma, remember. How I do miss the boys!”
Persis sighed. “So do I, although we see them nearly every day; but it isn’t like having them here. I actually hate to go by Basil’s room now.”
“Persis!”
“What?”
“Nothing.” And Lisa refrained from a speech which she intended to make, thinking that perhaps here was a reason for her sister’s finding no message in the roses.
“The house seems more like itself with my pretty maids all here,” Mrs. Holmes said, fondly, as she looked at the bright faces of her daughters in the library that evening. “It will be many a day before I spare one of them again.”
“Oh, mamma!” expostulated Lisa.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Holmes, decidedly. “You must remember that neither of your parents has as yet seen your sailor lad, and the engagement is only conditional until we do see him, and must not be announced. You are too young to think of nest-making yet, the pair of you.”
“Yes, my Nancy Lee,” interposed Persis; “take the advice of your wise sister and ‘bide a wee.’ You won’t find me so ready to leave you, mammy.” And Persis patted her mother’s face with her pretty soft hand.
“What about college?”
“Oh, college is different; that is just for a time. I’ll go just to make you glad to have me back again, and you’ll be so glad you’ll want to keep me always. It does seem a shame to break up the constellation, as Ned Carew calls us. I asked him which one we represented, and he had some dim idea of meaning the Pleiades, I think, until I reminded him that we are not seven; and then he said, ‘Ah, you’re those bright stars in a row. What d’ye call ’em? Orion’s belt.’ Now you know where we belong, girls.”
“That sounds like Ned. How is my late adorer, by the way?” asked Lisa.
“He is well. In your absence he has been devoting himself to Audrey, and in consequence the relations are somewhat strained between the Pigeon and the Milesian.”
“‘Wha’ fo’?’ as Prue says,” inquired Lisa.
“Because Pidgy does not admire the Grasshopper, and Audrey is quite grown up nowadays. She is quite a society lady, while Melly is only a school-girl yet; so you see, like the conundrum, Why does a duck go in the water? it’s for divers reasons.”
“What about the other girls? How is Connie?”
“Oh, poor Connie, or, rather, fortunate Connie. Mrs. Steuart died about a year ago, Imogene is married and has gone to another city to live, and Oriana lives with her. And, what do you think? Connie is living at Mrs. Dixon’s. I think it was lovely of Mrs. Dixon to have her, and it will mean everything to Connie. She has refined instincts, but they were in danger of being blunted by her home surroundings. Mr. Steuart is off somewhere all the time. I don’t think much of him anyway. And Bud? oh, Bud is with his brother-in-law in some large mill or factory or something. Imogene really did very well in her marriage. And that is the news in Connie’s direction. Nellie Hall is just the same dear old good thing, and Margaret Greene has joined all the clubs going. Kit Carew is engaged to—guess who?”
“I can’t.”
“The Toad.”
“No!”
“Yes, truly. I don’t see how she can like him; but he ought to be very good, for he is not beautiful, although I believe he is quite wealthy.”
Mrs. Estabrook’s entrance then caused the conversation to turn upon the incidents of the trip just taken, and Persis produced the little statuette which Mr. Peyton had given her; and that night she told Lisa the story of it and of her impression of Mr. Peyton.
“Isn’t it queer,” she said, “to think of grandma’s being the heroine of a romance? I know there is one about her and Mr. Peyton, and to think that even now he feels so about her. It isn’t usual to find such constancy, is it?”
“No; I think not, nowadays. It’s more often on with the new love before you are off with the old.”
“I don’t like that,” returned Persis. “I think men and women should be as honorable in their love affairs as in their business, and they are not. I do not believe in that saying, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’ All isn’t fair, and persons have no right to deceive each other. They’ll be sure to get found out some day, and then they bring unhappiness to some one, if not to themselves.”
“Yes, my wise mentor. How did you learn so much, Tommy?”
“Watching other people and thinking very hard; but I’d like to know the truth about Mr. Peyton.”
Some time after Persis heard the story. It was when the announcement of Mr. Peyton’s death reached her, conveyed by means of a letter from one of hisexecutors, who stated that the old desk, with its contents, was left as a bequest to “Persis Carter’s grand-daughter, Persis Holmes.” A few days later the desk was sent, and since Persis’s snuggery was too small to accommodate it, after some planning it was decided that the second daughter really needed a room of her own, and so Lisa took her possessions into the larger apartment, formerly occupied by the boys, and Persis set up her desk by the window.
Annis was on hand when the big piece of furniture arrived, and viewed it with much satisfaction. “Isn’t it a dear old thing?” she said.
“Yes. I feel quite pensively sentimental over it. I think it was so good of Cousin Ambrose to leave it to me.”
“Have you examined the contents?”
“Yes. I found some old books and coins,—nice old books they are, too. On the fly-leaf of one I found, ‘To Ambrose Peyton; from his cousin, Persis Carter.’ Then there are some volumes of history and a very old edition of Shakespeare.”
Annis was opening the various doors and compartments of the old desk. “Oh, here is a tiny little drawer,” she said. “It has a big envelope in it. Have you seen that?”
“No; where did you find it?”
“Here, in this little place that opens like a sliding panel.”
“I never thought of looking there. Let me see. Why, Annis, it is addressed to me.”
“Open it, Persis. Hurry! let us see what is inside.”And Persis broke the heavy seal. “Why, what are these things?” she exclaimed. “And there is a letter and a ring.” Opening the letter she read:
“To Miss Persis Holmes:“My dear Child,—The pleasure which I have lately received from your visit has renewed an old desire to emphasize in some substantial way my obligation to and affection for your grandmother. Many years ago I was the suitor for the hand of my cousin, Persis Carter, who always has been and always must be the loveliest woman in the world to me. But, alas! I was not worthy, and your beloved grandmother, my cousin, Persis Carter, would not consent to link her fate with one who chose to degrade his manhood by the use of the intoxicating glass. She married a good and noble man, and was a happy wife and mother. It was only when I lost her that I realized what a foe to me was the wine-cup. But her dear helping hand was stretched out to save me, for when, in a moment of frenzy, I struck down a neighbor, believing I had killed him—which, thank God! I had not—I fled to her and she saved me, not only from myself, but from the consequence of the act which threatened to brand me as a criminal. I have never seen her since then, but her image has never faded and her nobleness and generosity has been ever a holy memory. I feel that my days are numbered, and for the sake of Persis Carter I wish to bestow upon her namesake this token of my undying gratitude and affection. Your little friend has told me of your hopes and ambitions. Maythis gift help you to become as wise and good a woman as my beloved cousin, Persis Carter. The little ring was my mother’s. I had intended it for the Persis whom I hoped would be my wife.”“Faithfully yours,”“Ambrose Peyton.”
“To Miss Persis Holmes:
“My dear Child,—The pleasure which I have lately received from your visit has renewed an old desire to emphasize in some substantial way my obligation to and affection for your grandmother. Many years ago I was the suitor for the hand of my cousin, Persis Carter, who always has been and always must be the loveliest woman in the world to me. But, alas! I was not worthy, and your beloved grandmother, my cousin, Persis Carter, would not consent to link her fate with one who chose to degrade his manhood by the use of the intoxicating glass. She married a good and noble man, and was a happy wife and mother. It was only when I lost her that I realized what a foe to me was the wine-cup. But her dear helping hand was stretched out to save me, for when, in a moment of frenzy, I struck down a neighbor, believing I had killed him—which, thank God! I had not—I fled to her and she saved me, not only from myself, but from the consequence of the act which threatened to brand me as a criminal. I have never seen her since then, but her image has never faded and her nobleness and generosity has been ever a holy memory. I feel that my days are numbered, and for the sake of Persis Carter I wish to bestow upon her namesake this token of my undying gratitude and affection. Your little friend has told me of your hopes and ambitions. Maythis gift help you to become as wise and good a woman as my beloved cousin, Persis Carter. The little ring was my mother’s. I had intended it for the Persis whom I hoped would be my wife.”
“Faithfully yours,”“Ambrose Peyton.”
“Oh, Annis!” Persis exclaimed, her eyes full of tears; “isn’t it sad, sad? The dear old man! How he has suffered; and what a story lies between the lines! Dear, dear grandma, who could believe to look at her that such a tragedy as that had been so near her!”
While Persis was reading the letter Annis was attentively looking over the other papers which lay in her lap. “Why, Persis,” she said, “these are bonds,—government bonds!”
“What?”
“Yes. Why, Persis! why, Persis! there are one, two, ten thousand dollars’ worth of government bonds! Oh! oh!”
“No! I don’t believe it!”
“Yes, they are, truly. Look!”
Persis dropped down on the floor all in a heap and began to cry.
“Why, Persis Holmes!”
“I can’t help it! I can’t help it! First Lisa comes home and tells me she is engaged, and then I read that letter, and then this comes. It is too much all at once. I seem to see that poor, young, desperate fellow rushing to his cousin and begging her help. I can seegrandma appealing to his better self. I can see him, with the shadow of guilt following him, fighting against temptation.”
“Don’t get so wrought up, Persis. You are so excited you are trembling all over.”
“Where is that little ring? I want that.”
“I believe you would rather have it than the bonds.”
“So I would, just at this moment. Let me indulge my sentimentality for a little while.”
“Well, then, here is the ring. Isn’t it pretty—just those three big milk-white pearls?”
Persis put it on her finger and sat pensively regarding it. “I shall always wear it,” she said. “I shall be true to you, Cousin Ambrose.”
“What deadly sentimentality!” laughed Annis. “I never would have believed it of you. Come, let us go show these bonds to your father.”
Persis jumped up. “Very well, I have finished mourning over the ring. Oh, Annis, if they really are government bonds, college does become a very solid fact. To think of my being a ‘bloated bond-holder’! What in the world did you say to Cousin Ambrose about me?”
“I confess I told him that you were longing to take a college course, and I told him, too, of all your grandmother and you have done for us; how you plucked us from the ‘wall of poverty’ and sat us upon the ‘hill of prosperity,’ and—well—all that kind of thing; but I never dreamed it would bring this result, or I should have told still more.”
“I never would have dreamed that you could be socommunicative and diplomatic. After all, then, it is your doing.”
“No; it is the reward of merit. Just as it comes out in books, virtue is rewarded and the evil-doer is punished.”
“Who is the evil-doer in this case? He hasn’t appeared upon the scene so far. We must tell grandma before we go to any one else. Come; she is in her room.”