255 files changed, 15210 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/22293-8.txt b/22293-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d5cb8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4988 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Three Margarets
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Ethelred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2007 [EBook #22293]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+[Illustration: UNCLE JOHN AND THE YOUNG CUBANS.]
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+By Laura E. Richards
+
+The MARGARET SERIES
+
+    Three Margarets
+    Margaret Montfort
+    Peggy
+    Rita
+    Fernley House
+
+The HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+    Queen Hildegarde
+    Hildegarde's Holiday
+    Hildegarde's Home
+    Hildegarde's Neighbors
+    Hildegarde's Harvest
+
+DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+Publishers
+Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THREE MARGARETS
+
+By
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+Author Of "Captain January," "Melody,"
+"Queen Hildegarde," Etc.
+
+Illustrated by
+ETHELRED B. BARRY
+
+Boston
+Dana Estes & Company
+Publishers
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1897
+By Estes and Lauriat
+
+Colonial Press:
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+CHAPTER                                     PAGE
+
+I. The Arrival                                 9
+II. First Thoughts                            21
+III. The White Lady of Fernley                36
+IV. Confidence                                51
+V. The Peat-bog                               65
+VI. The Family Chest                          81
+VII. The Garret                               98
+VIII. Cuba Libre                             115
+IX. Day by Day                               131
+X. Looking Backward                          147
+XI. Heroes and Heroines                      163
+XII. In the Saddle                           187
+XIII. In the Night                           208
+XIV. Explanations                            220
+XV. Farewell                                 237
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+                                            PAGE
+
+Uncle John and the Young Cubans     Frontispiece
+Aunt Faith's Room                             43
+Peggy at the Bog                              73
+In the Garret                                105
+"Cuba Libre"                                 125
+Peggy Writes Home                            143
+Horseback                                    201
+Rita's Apology                               227
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+THREE MARGARETS.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE ARRIVAL.
+
+
+    Long ago and long ago,
+      And long ago still,
+    There dwelt three merry maidens
+      Upon a distant hill.
+
+              Christina G. Rossetti.
+
+The rain was falling fast. It was a pleasant summer rain that plashed
+gently on the leaves of the great elms and locusts, and tinkled
+musically in the roadside puddles. Less musical was its sound as it
+drummed on the top of the great landau which was rolling along the
+avenue leading to Fernley House; but the occupants of the carriage paid
+little attention to it, each being buried in her own thoughts. The night
+was dark, and the carriage-lamps threw an uncertain gleam on the three
+figures leaning back in their corners, muffled and silent. The avenue
+was long,--interminably long, it seemed to one of the three travellers;
+and finally the silence so oppressed her that she determined to conquer
+her shyness and break it.
+
+"What a _very_ long avenue!" she said, speaking in a low, sweet voice.
+
+There was no reply. She hesitated a moment, and then added timidly,
+"Don't you think that, as we are cousins, we might introduce ourselves
+and make acquaintance? My name is Margaret Montfort."
+
+"Why, so is mine!" exclaimed the traveller opposite her. "And mine!"
+added the third, from the further corner.
+
+The voice of the second speaker sounded as if it might be hearty, and as
+if only awkwardness gave it a sullen tone. The third spoke with a soft,
+languid utterance and the faintest shade of a foreign accent.
+
+"How strange!" exclaimed the first Margaret Montfort. "Of course I knew
+that we had the same surname, as our fathers were brothers; but that we
+should all three be named--and yet it is not strange, after all!" she
+added. "Our grandmother was Margaret, and it was natural that we should
+be given her name. But how shall we manage? We cannot say First, Second,
+and Third Margaret, as they do on the stage."
+
+"I am never called anything but Peggy," said the second girl, still in a
+half-sullen, half-timid tone.
+
+And "My home name is Rita," murmured the third reluctantly; and she
+added something in an undertone about "short acquaintance," which the
+first Margaret did not choose to hear.
+
+"Oh, how pretty!" she said cordially. "Then I may call you Peggy and
+Rita? About myself"--she stopped and laughed--"I hardly know what to
+say, for I have always been called Margaret, since I was a baby."
+
+"But one of us might as well _be_ Margaret," answered Peggy. "And
+somehow, your voice sounds as if you looked like it. If this road were
+ever coming to an end, we might see."
+
+"Oh, I do see!" cried Margaret, leaning forward to look out of the
+window. "I see the lights! I see the house! We are really here at last!"
+
+As she spoke, the carriage drove up before a long building twinkling
+with lights, and stopped at a broad flight of steps, leading to a
+stone-paved veranda. As the coachman opened the carriage-door, the door
+of the house opened too, and a cheerful light streamed out upon the
+three weary travellers. Two staid waiting-women, in spotless caps and
+aprons, were waiting to receive them as they came up the steps.
+
+"This way, young ladies, if you please!" said the elder of the two. "You
+must be tired with your long drive. This is the library; and will you
+rest here a while, or will you be shown your rooms at once?"
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Margaret, "let us stay here a little while! What
+do you say, cousins?"
+
+"All right!" said Peggy. The girl whose home name was Rita had already
+thrown herself down in an armchair, and seemed to think no reply
+necessary.
+
+"Very well, miss," said the dignified waiting-woman, addressing herself
+markedly to Margaret. "Susan will come in ten minutes to show you the
+rooms, miss, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I am Elizabeth,
+miss, if you should want me. The bell is here in the corner."
+
+Margaret thanked her with a cordial smile, the other two never glancing
+in her direction, and the woman withdrew.
+
+"Just ten minutes," said Margaret, turning to her cousins, "to make
+acquaintance in, and find out what we all look like! Suppose we begin by
+taking off our wraps. How delightful the little fire is, even if we are
+in the middle of June. Let me help you, Peggy!"
+
+Peggy was fumbling at her veil, which was tied in a hard knot; but in a
+few minutes everything was off, and the three Margaret Montforts stood
+silent, gazing at each other.
+
+Nearest the fire stood the girl who was called Peggy. She was apparently
+about sixteen, plump and fair, with a profusion of blonde hair which
+looked as if it were trying to fly away. Her round, rosy cheeks, blue
+eyes, and pouting lips gave her a cherubic contour which was comically
+at variance with her little tilted nose; but she was pretty, in spite of
+her singularly ill-devised and ill-fitting costume of green flannel.
+
+Reclining in the armchair next her, the Margaret who was called Rita
+was a startling contrast to the rosy Peggy. She was a year older, slight
+and graceful, her simple black gown fitting like a glove and saying
+"Paris" in every seam. Her hair was absolutely black, her eyes large and
+dark, her delicate features regular and finely cut; but the beautiful
+face wore an expression of discontent, and there were two fine vertical
+lines between the eyebrows. Her complexion had the clear pallor of a
+Cape Jessamine.
+
+Facing these two, and looking with thoughtful eyes from one to the
+other, stood the girl whom we have spoken of as the first Margaret. She
+was seventeen, within two months of the age of her dark-eyed cousin.
+Lacking the brilliant colouring of the other two, her face had its own
+charm. Her eyes were dark gray, with violet shades in them, deepened by
+the long and heavy black lashes. The faint tinge of colour in her smooth
+cheeks was that of the wild rose; her wavy chestnut hair had glints of
+gold here and there in it, and though her nose was nothing in
+particular, she had the prettiest mouth in the world, and a dimple
+beside it. In conclusion, she was dressed in dark blue, simply, yet
+tastefully too.
+
+"Well," said Peggy, breaking the silence with an embarrassed giggle, "I
+hope we shall know each other the next time we meet."
+
+Margaret blushed. "I fear I have been staring rudely!" she said. "But I
+have never had any cousins before,--never seen any, that is, and I am
+really so glad to know you both! Let us shake hands, girls, and try to
+be friends!"
+
+She spoke so pleasantly that Peggy's plump hand and Rita's delicate
+white fingers were at once extended. Holding them in her own, Margaret
+hesitated a moment, and then, bending forward, kissed both girls timidly
+on the cheek.
+
+"Our fathers were own brothers," she said. "We must try to be fond of
+each other. And now," she added, "let us all tell our tells, as the
+children say. Rita, you shall begin. Tell us about yourself and your
+home, and anything else that you will."
+
+Rita settled herself comfortably in her chair, and looked meditatively
+at the tip of her little boot.
+
+"My home," she said, "is in Havana. My mother was a Spaniard, a San
+Real. My father is Richard Montfort. My mother died three years ago, and
+my father has lately married again, a girl of my own age. You may
+imagine that I do not find home particularly attractive now, so I was
+glad to accept my Uncle John's invitation to spend the summer here. As I
+have money in my own right, I was at liberty to do as I pleased; nor in
+truth did my father object, but the contrary. I have never seen my
+uncle."
+
+"Nor I!" "Nor I!" exclaimed the other two.
+
+"But I received this note from him a month ago."
+
+She produced a note from her reticule, and read as follows.
+
+     "MY DEAR NIECE:
+
+     The thought has occurred to me that it would be well for you to
+     make some acquaintance with the home of your fathers. I therefore
+     invite you to spend the coming summer here, with the daughters of
+     my brothers James and Roger, to whom I have extended a similar
+     invitation. Business will unhappily prevent me from receiving you
+     in person, but my cousin and yours, Mrs. Cheriton, who resides at
+     Fernley, will pay you every attention.
+
+     Trusting that this plan will meet with your approval and that of
+     your father,
+
+
+                                            I am, my dear niece,
+                                            Your affectionate uncle,
+                                            JOHN MONTFORT."
+
+"Well, I never!" cried Peggy, drawing a long breath. "Why, it's word for
+word like my note."
+
+"And like mine!" said Margaret.
+
+The three notes were laid side by side, and proved to be exactly alike,
+even to the brief flourish under the signature; with the one difference
+that in Margaret's the words "and that of your father," were omitted.
+
+"He must be a very methodical man!" said Margaret thoughtfully. "Isn't
+it strange that none of us has ever seen him? And yet one can understand
+how it has been. The other brothers, our fathers, left home when they
+were quite young,--that is what Papa has told me,--and soon formed ties
+elsewhere. Uncle John stayed with Grandfather till he died; then he went
+abroad, and was gone many years; and since he came back, he has lived
+here alone. I suppose he has grown a recluse, and does not care to see
+people. I know Papa often and often begged him to come and make us a
+visit, and once or twice the time was actually set; but each time
+something happened to prevent his coming, and he never did come. I think
+he would have come last year, when dear Papa died, but he had had some
+accident, and had injured his foot so that he could not walk."
+
+"Pa read us the letter you wrote him then," said Peggy, with an awkward
+attempt at condolence. "He said he thought you must be a nice girl."
+
+The tears came quickly to Margaret's eyes, and she turned her head to
+hide them. Peggy instantly plunged into a description of her nine
+brothers and sisters, and their life on the great Western farm where
+they lived; but she was hardly under way when the demure Susan tapped at
+the door, and said with gentle firmness that she had come to show the
+young ladies their rooms.
+
+There was a sudden clutching of hats, cloaks, and bags, and the next
+moment the three maidens were ascending the wide staircase, casting
+looks of curiosity and wonderment about them.
+
+"What beautiful twisted balusters!" whispered Margaret.
+
+"And such queer old pictures!" said Peggy. "My! How they stare!
+Wondering who we are, I suppose."
+
+Arrived in the wide upper hall, Susan threw open the doors of three
+rooms, two side by side, the third opposite.
+
+"This is yours, Miss Montfort," she said. "This is the young lady's from
+the South, and this the other young lady's. Mr. Montfort arranged it all
+before he left."
+
+"How kind and thoughtful!" cried Margaret.
+
+"How precise and formal!" murmured Rita.
+
+Peggy said nothing, but stared with round eyes. These rooms were not
+like the great whitewashed chamber at home, where she and her three
+sisters slept in iron bedsteads. These rooms were not large, but oh, so
+pretty and cosy! In each was an open fireplace, with a tiny fire
+burning,--"just for looks," Susan explained. Each contained a pretty
+brass bedstead, a comfortable chair or two, and curtains and cushions of
+flowered chintz. Rita's chintz showed deep red poppies on a pale buff
+ground; Peggy's was blue, with buttercups and daisies scattered over
+it; while Margaret's--oh, Margaret's was not chintz after all, but
+old-fashioned white dimity, with a bewilderment of tufts, and
+ball-fringe, and tassels. Candles were lighted on the trim
+dressing-tables; everything was spotless, fresh, and inviting, and the
+three tired girls sank each into her soft-cushioned easy chair with a
+delightful sense of being at home.
+
+"The tea-bell will ring in half an hour, if you please," said Susan, and
+she closed the three doors.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+FIRST THOUGHTS.
+
+
+    "The eggs and the ham,
+    And the strawberry jam;
+    The rollicking bun,
+    And the gay Sally Lunn."
+
+"Ting! ting-a-ling!" the silver tinkle sounded cheerfully. Margaret was
+the first to leave her room, punctuality being the third virtue of her
+creed. She had changed her travelling-dress for a pretty dark red
+cashmere, which became her well; but Peggy, who came running down a
+moment later, still wore her ill-fitting frock of green flannel, the
+scant attractions of which were not enhanced by a soiled linen collar,
+which she had forgotten to change. The flyaway locks were indeed braided
+together, but the heavy braid was rough and uneven.
+
+"Oh, you have changed your dress!" she cried, seeing Margaret. "How
+pretty you look! I didn't have time to do anything. Say," she added,
+lowering her voice, "I think you are sweet, but I just hate that other
+girl. _We_ sha'n't be fond of each other, you may be sure of that!"
+
+"My dear Peggy!" said Margaret, in gentle remonstrance. "You must not
+judge a person on ten minutes' acquaintance. I am sure I hope you and
+Rita will be very good friends. You certainly must admire her beauty."
+
+"Oh, she's pretty enough!" rejoined Peggy; "but I think she's perfectly
+horrid!--there now! Stuck-up and conceited, and looking at other people
+as if they were stone posts. And I am _not_ a stone post, you know."
+
+"You certainly don't look like one," said Margaret, laughing; "nor feel
+like one," she added, putting her arm around her cousin's plump waist.
+
+"But come! here is Elizabeth waiting to show us the dining-room.
+Elizabeth, we have had a good rest, and we are _so_ hungry."
+
+"This way, miss, if you please," said the grave Elizabeth. And she led
+the way across the hall. The dining-room was a pleasant square room,
+with crimson curtains closely drawn. There was no cloth on the dark
+table, which shone like a mirror, reflecting the blaze of the candles in
+mellow points of light. At the head stood a shining silver tea-service
+and a Dresden chocolate-pot, surrounded by the prettiest cups and
+saucers that ever were seen; and a supper was laid out which seemed to
+have been specially planned for three hungry girls. Everything good, and
+plenty of it.
+
+"My!" whispered Peggy, "isn't this fine? But how funny to have no
+table-cloth! We always have a red one at supper."
+
+"Do you?" said Margaret. "Papa always liked the bare table."
+
+"Will you take the head of the table, miss?" asked Elizabeth. "I have
+set your place here, and Miss--"
+
+"Miss Peggy's," suggested Margaret gently.
+
+"Thank you, miss! Miss Peggy's at the side here."
+
+"Very well," said Margaret. "We shall sit just where you put us,
+Elizabeth. And Miss Rita will sit opposite me and carve the chicken. Oh,
+here she is! Rita, are you accomplished in the art of carving?"
+
+Rita, who now came gliding in, shook her head as she took the seat
+appointed her. "I have never attempted it," she said, "and don't think I
+care to try, thanks! Take this to the sideboard and carve it," she
+added, addressing Elizabeth in a tone of careless command. The woman
+obeyed in silence; but the quick colour sprang to Margaret's cheek, and
+she looked as much distressed as if the rude speech had been addressed
+to her.
+
+Peggy stared. "Don't they say 'please' in Havana?" she said in a loud
+whisper to Margaret. But Margaret rattled the tea-cups, and pretended
+not to hear.
+
+"Will you take tea, Rita, or chocolate?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Chocolate, please," replied her cousin languidly. "I wonder if it will
+be fit to drink? One hears that everything of that sort is so
+frightfully adulterated in this country."
+
+"It looks delicious," said Margaret, pouring out the smooth, brown
+liquid. "Do you see, girls, what lovely cups these are? Look, Rita, they
+are all different! I shall give you this delicate pink one, for it just
+matches your gown. Such a pretty gown!" she added admiringly, glancing
+at the pale rose-coloured silk and rich lace that set off the clear
+pallor of Rita's complexion in a wonderful way.
+
+"It is only a tea-gown!" said the latter carelessly. "I have brought no
+clothes to speak of. Yes, the cup does match it rather well, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"And you, Peggy," said Margaret, "shall have this blue darling with the
+gold arabesques. Surely, anything would taste good out of such
+cups,--take care! Oh, my dear!"
+
+Margaret sprang up and tried to recapture the cup which had just left
+her hand. But it was too late! Peggy had taken it quickly, grasping the
+edge of the saucer. Naturally, the saucer tilted up, the cup tilted
+over, and a stream of chocolate poured over her hand and arm, and
+descended into her lap, where it formed a neat brown pool with green
+flannel banks. Moreover, an auxiliary stream was meandering over the
+table, making rapid progress towards the rose-coloured silk and white
+lace.
+
+With an angry exclamation of _"Bête!"_ Rita pushed her chair back out of
+danger. Poor Peggy, after the first terrified "Ow!" as the hot
+chocolate deluged her, sat still, apparently afraid of making matters
+worse if she stirred. Margaret, after ringing the bell violently to call
+Elizabeth, promptly checked the threatening rivulet on the table with
+her napkin, and then, seizing Peggy's, proceeded to sop up the pool as
+well as she could.
+
+"I never!" gasped the unhappy girl. "Why, I didn't do a thing! it just
+tipped right over!"
+
+"It is too bad!" said Margaret, as sympathetically as she could, though
+her cousin did look so funny, it was hard to keep from smiling. "Oh,
+here is Elizabeth! Elizabeth, we have had an accident, and I fear Miss
+Peggy's dress is quite ruined. Can you think of anything to take the
+stains out?"
+
+Elizabeth surveyed the scene with a practised eye.
+
+"Hot soapsuds will be the best thing," she said. "If the young lady will
+come up with me at once, and take the frock off, I will see what can be
+done."
+
+"Yes, do go with Elizabeth, dear!" urged Margaret. "Nothing can be done
+till the dress is off."
+
+And poor Peggy went off, hanging her head and looking very miserable.
+
+Rita, as soon as her dress was out of danger, was able to see the affair
+in another light, and as her cousin left the room burst into a peal of
+silvery laughter.
+
+"Oh, hush!" cried Margaret. "She will hear you, Rita!"
+
+"And if she does?" replied Rita, drawing her chair up to the table
+again, and sipping her chocolate leisurely. "Acrobats expect to be
+laughed at, and certainly this was a most astonishing _tour de force_.
+Seriously, my dear," she added, seeing Margaret's troubled look, "how
+are we to take our Western cousin, if we do not treat her as a comic
+monstrosity? Is it possible that she is a Montfort? I shall call her
+Cousin Calibana, I think!"
+
+She nibbled daintily at a macaroon, and went on: "It is a thing to be
+thankful for that the green frock is probably hopelessly ruined. I am
+quite sure it would have affected my nerves seriously if I had been
+obliged to see it every day. Do they perhaps cut dresses with a
+mowing-machine in the West?" and she laughed again, a laugh so rippling
+and musical that it was a pity it was not good-natured.
+
+Margaret listened in troubled silence. What could she say that would not
+at once alienate this foreign cousin, who seemed now inclined to
+friendliness with her? And yet she could not let poor Peggy go
+undefended. At last she said gently, yet with meaning, "Dear Rita, you
+make me tremble for myself. If you are so very severe in your judgments,
+who can hope to pass uncriticised?"
+
+"You, _ma cousine_!" cried Rita. "But there is no question of you; you
+are of one's own kind! You are altogether charming. Surely you must see
+that this young person is simply impossible. Impossible!" she repeated
+with decision. "There is no other word for it."
+
+"No," said Margaret, bravely, "I do not see that, Rita! She is shy and
+awkward, and I should think very young for her age. But she has an
+honest, good face, and I like her. Besides," she added, unconsciously
+repeating the argument she had used in defending Rita herself against
+Peggy's animadversions, "it is absurd to judge a person on half an
+hour's acquaintance."
+
+"Oh, half an hour!" said Rita lightly; "half a lifetime! My judgments,
+_chère cousine_, are made at the first glance, and remain fixed."
+
+"And are they always right?" asked Margaret, half amused and half vexed.
+
+"They are right for me!" said Rita, nodding her pretty head. "That is
+enough."
+
+She pushed her chair back, and coming to Margaret's side, laid her hand
+lightly on her shoulder.
+
+"_Chère cousine_," she said, in a caressing tone, "you are so charming,
+I do hope you are not good. It is detestable to be good! Avoid it, _très
+chère_! believe me, it is impossible!"
+
+"Are all the people in Havana bad?" asked Margaret, returning the
+caress, and resisting the impulse to shake the pretty, foolish speaker.
+
+"All!" replied Rita cheerfully; "enchanting, delightful people; all bad!
+Oh, of course when one is old, that is another matter! Then one
+begins--"
+
+"Was your mother bad, Rita?" asked Margaret quietly.
+
+"My mother was an angel, do you hear? a saint!" cried the girl. And
+suddenly, without the slightest warning, she burst into a tropical
+passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would break.
+
+Poor Margaret! Decidedly this was not a pleasant evening for her. By the
+time she had soothed Rita, and tucked her up on the library sofa, with a
+fan and a vinaigrette, Peggy had come down again, in a state of
+aggrieved dejection, to finish her supper. A wrapper of dingy brown
+replaced the green frock; she too had been crying, and her eyes were red
+and swollen.
+
+"I wish I was at home!" she said sullenly, as she ate her chicken and
+buttered her roll. "I wish I hadn't come here. I knew I should have a
+horrid time, but Pa made me come."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, Peggy, dear!" said Margaret. "You are tired
+to-night, and homesick, that is all; and it was very unlucky about the
+dress, of course. To-morrow, when you have had a good night's rest, you
+will feel very differently, I know you will. Just think how delightful
+it will be to explore the house, and to roam about the garden, where
+your father and mine used to play when they were boys. Hasn't your
+father told you about the swing under the great chestnut-trees, and the
+summer-houses, and--"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Peggy, her eyes brightening. "And I was to look in the
+long summer-house for his initials, cut in the roof. Uncle Roger stood
+on Uncle John's shoulders, and Pa on his; and when he was finishing the
+tail of the M, Pa gave such a dig with his knife that he lost his
+balance, and they all tumbled down together; and Pa has the mark of the
+fall now, on his forehead."
+
+Margaret felt that the bad moment had passed.
+
+"Tell me about your father, and all of you at home," she said. "Think! I
+have never even seen a picture of Uncle James! He is tall, of course;
+all the Montforts are tall."
+
+"Miles tall," said Peggy; "with broad shoulders, and a big brown beard.
+So jolly, Pa is! He is out on the farm all day, you know, and in the
+evening he sits in the corner and smokes his pipe, and the boys tell him
+what they have been doing, and they talk crops and cattle and pigs by
+the hour together."
+
+"The boys?" inquired Margaret. "Your brothers?"
+
+Peggy nodded, and began to count on her fingers.
+
+"Jim, George, Hugh, Max, and Peter, boys; Peggy, Jean, Bessie, Flora,
+and Doris, girls. Oh, dear! I wish they were all here!"
+
+"Ten whole cousins!" cried Margaret. "How rich I feel! Now you must tell
+me all about them, Peggy. Is Jim the eldest?"
+
+"Eldest and biggest!" replied Peggy, beginning on the frosted cake. "Jim
+is twenty-five, and taller than Pa,--six feet four in his shoes. He has
+charge of the stock, and spends most of his time on horseback. His horse
+is nearly as big as an elephant, and he rides splendidly. I think you
+would like Jim," she said shyly.
+
+"I am sure I should!" said Margaret heartily. "Who comes next?"
+
+"George," said Peggy. "George isn't very nice, I think; I don't believe
+you'd like him. He has been to college, you know, and he sneers and
+makes fun of the rest of us, and calls us countrified."
+
+Margaret was sure that she should not like George, but she did not say
+so. "He's very clever," continued Peggy, "and Pa is very proud of him. I
+s'pose I might like him better if he didn't tease Hugh, but I can't
+stand that."
+
+"Is Hugh your favourite brother?" Margaret asked softly.
+
+"Of course. Hugh is the best of us all. He is lame. Jim and George were
+fighting one day, when he was a little baby, just beginning to walk; and
+somehow, one of them fell back against him and threw him downstairs. He
+hurt his back, and has been lame ever since. Hugh is like an angel,
+somehow. You never saw anybody like Hugh. He does things--well! Let me
+tell you this that he did. He never gets into rows, but the rest of us
+do, all the time. Jim and George are the worst, and when they are at it,
+you can hear them all over the house. Well, one day Hugh was sick
+upstairs, and they had an awful row. Pa was out, and Ma couldn't do
+anything with them; she never can. Hugh can generally stop them, but
+this time he couldn't go down, you see. I was sitting with him, and I
+saw him getting whiter and whiter. At last he said, 'Peggy, I want
+you--' and then he stopped and said, 'No, you are too big. Bring little
+Peter here!' I went and brought Peter, who was about four then. 'Petie,'
+said Hugh, 'take brother's crutch, and go downstairs, and give it to
+Brother Jim and Brother George. Say Hugh sent it.' And then he told me
+to help Petie down with the crutch, but not go into the room. I did peep
+in through the crack, though, and I saw Petie toddle in, dragging the
+crutch, and saw him lay it down between them, and say, 'Brudder Hugh
+send it to big brudders.' They stopped and never said another word, only
+Jim gave a kind of groan. Then he kissed Petie and told him to thank
+Brother Hugh; and he went out, and didn't come back for three days. He
+rides off when he feels bad, and stays away on the farm somewhere till
+he gets over it."
+
+"And George?" asked Margaret.
+
+"Oh! George just went into his room and sulked," said Peggy. "That's
+_his_ way! I do declare, he's like--" Here she stopped suddenly, for a
+vision appeared in the doorway. Pale and scornful, with her great dark
+eyes full of cold mockery, Rita stood gazing at them both, her
+rose-coloured draperies floating around her.
+
+"I am truly sorry," she said, "to interrupt this torrent of eloquence. I
+merely wish to say that I am going to bed. Good night, _chère
+Marguerite! Senorita Calibana, je vous souhaite le bon soir!_ Continue,
+I pray you, your thrilling disclosures as long as my cousin's ears can
+contain them!" And with a mocking courtesy she swept away, leaving the
+other two girls with an indefinable sense of guilt and disgrace. Poor
+Peggy! She had been so happy, all her troubles forgotten, pouring out
+her artless recital of home affairs; but now her face darkened, and she
+looked sullen and unhappy again.
+
+"Hateful thing!" she muttered. "I wish she was in Jericho!"
+
+"Never mind, Peggy dear!" said Margaret as cheerfully as she could.
+"Rita is very tired, and has a headache. It has been delightful to hear
+about the brothers, and especially about Hugh; but I am sure we ought to
+go to bed too. You must be quite tired out, and I am getting sleepy
+myself."
+
+She kissed her cousin affectionately, and arm in arm they went up the
+great staircase.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE WHITE LADY OF FERNLEY.
+
+
+Margaret was waked the next morning by the cheerful and persistent song
+of a robin, which had perched on a twig just outside her window. She had
+gone to bed in a discouraged frame of mind, and dreamed that her two
+cousins had turned into lionesses, and were fighting together over her
+prostrate body; but with the morning light everything seemed to
+brighten, and the robin's song was a good omen.
+
+"Thank you, Robin dear," she said aloud, as she brushed her long hair.
+"I dare say everything will go well after a while, but just now, Robin,
+I do assure you, things have a kittle look."
+
+She was down first, as the night before; but Peggy soon appeared,
+rubbing her eyes and looking still half asleep.
+
+Breakfast was ready, and Peggy, at sight of the omelette and muffins,
+was about to fling herself headlong into her chair; but Margaret held
+her back a moment.
+
+"Elizabeth," she said, hesitating, "is Mrs. Cheriton--is she not here? I
+see you have put me at the head of the table again."
+
+"Mrs. Cheriton seldom leaves her own rooms, miss," replied Elizabeth.
+"She asked me to say that she would be glad to see the young ladies
+after breakfast. And shall I call the other young lady, Miss Montfort?"
+
+Before Margaret could reply, a clear voice was heard calling from above,
+in impatient tones:
+
+"Elizabeth! somebody! come here this moment!"
+
+Elizabeth obeyed the imperious summons, and as she reached the foot of
+the stairs, Rita's voice broke out again.
+
+"Why has no coffee been brought to me? I never saw such carelessness.
+There is no bell in my room, either, and I have been calling till I am
+hoarse."
+
+"I am very sorry, miss!" replied Elizabeth quietly. "We supposed you
+would come down to breakfast with the other young ladies. Shall I bring
+you a cup of tea now? There is no coffee in the house, as Mr. Montfort
+never drinks it."
+
+"_No coffee!_" cried Rita. "I _have_ come to a wilderness! Well--bring
+the tea! and have it strong, do you hear?" And the young Cuban swept
+back into her room, and shut the door with more vehemence than good
+breeding strictly allowed.
+
+Margaret listened in distressed silence to this colloquy. Peggy giggled
+and chuckled. "Aha!" she said, "I'm so glad she didn't get the coffee.
+Greedy thing! Please hand me the muffins, Margaret. How small they are!
+The idea of her having her breakfast in bed!" and Peggy sniffed, and
+helped herself largely to marmalade.
+
+"Perhaps her head aches still," said peace-loving Margaret.
+
+"Don't believe a word of it!" cried Peggy. "She's used to being waited
+on by darkeys, and she thinks it will be just the same here. That's
+all!"
+
+Margaret thought this was probably true, but she did not say so,
+preferring the safer remark that it was a delightful day.
+
+"When you have finished your breakfast," she said, "we will go out into
+the garden. I can see a bit of it from here, and it looks lovely. Oh! I
+can just catch a glimpse of the swing. I wonder if it is the same old
+one. I love to swing, don't you?"
+
+"I like shinning better!" said Peggy, putting half a muffin in her
+mouth. "Can you shin?"
+
+"Shin! what--oh! up a tree, you mean. I'm afraid not."
+
+"I can!" said Peggy triumphantly. "I can beat most of the boys at it,
+only Ma won't let me do it, on account of my clothes. Says I'm too old,
+too; bother! I'm not going to be a primmy, just because I am fifteen.
+How old are you, Margaret?"
+
+"Seventeen; and as two years make a great difference, you know, Peggy, I
+shall put on all the airs of an elder sister. You know the Elder
+Sister's part,--
+
+        "Good advice and counsel sage,
+    And 'I never did so when I was your age!'"
+
+"All right!" said Peggy. "I'll call you elder sister. Ma always says I
+ought to have had one, instead of being one."
+
+"Well, first comes something that we must both do; that is, go and see
+Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your
+necktie for you."
+
+Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie
+round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be
+coaxed a little--or not so very little!--and then--
+
+"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked!
+Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to
+be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."
+
+By this time Margaret had rebuttoned the dress, with a sigh over the
+fact that the buttons did not match it, and that one sleeve was put in
+wrong. Now she declared that they must go without more delay, and
+Elizabeth came to show them the way.
+
+Peggy hung back, muttering that she never knew what to say to strangers;
+but Margaret took her hand firmly, and drew her along.
+
+Perhaps Margaret may have felt a little nervous herself about this
+strange lady, who never left her rooms, and yet was to entertain and
+care for them, as her uncle's note had said. Both girls followed in
+silence, as Elizabeth led them through the hall, past a door, then down
+three steps and along a little passage to another door, at which she
+knocked.
+
+"Come in!" said a pleasant voice. Elizabeth opened the door and motioned
+the girls to enter.
+
+"The young ladies, ma'am!" she said; and then shut the door and went
+away.
+
+The sudden change from the dark passage to the white room was dazzling.
+It was a small room, and it seemed to be all white: walls, floor
+(covered with a white India matting), furniture, and all. The strange
+lady sat in a great white armchair. She wore a gown of soft white
+cashmere, and her hair, and her cap, her hands, and her face, were all
+different shades of white, each softer than the other. Only her eyes
+were brown; and as she looked kindly at the girls and smiled, they
+thought they had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.
+
+"Why, children," she said; "do you think I am a ghost? Come here, dears,
+and let me look at you! I am real, I assure you." She laughed, the
+softest little laugh, hardly more than a rustle, and held out her hand.
+Margaret came forward at once, still dragging Peggy after her,--Peggy,
+whose eyes were so wide open, it looked as if she might never be able to
+shut them again.
+
+Mrs. Cheriton took a hand of each, and looked earnestly from one to the
+other.
+
+"How are you called?" she asked. "I know that you have the same name."
+
+"We thought I had better be Margaret," was the timid reply from the girl
+who was able to speak, "and this is Peggy."
+
+"I see!" said the old lady, putting her hand on Peggy's flaxen mane.
+"You look like Peggy, little one! I used to call my sister Peggy. And
+where is the third Margaret?"
+
+"She has not come down yet; she had a headache last night," said
+Margaret, losing all shyness before the kindly glance of those soft
+brown eyes. "She is called Rita, and she is very beautiful."
+
+[Illustration: AUNT FAITH'S ROOM.]
+
+"That is pleasant!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "I like pretty people, when they
+are good as well. You are a Montfort, Margaret! You have the Montfort
+mouth, and chin; but this child must look like her mother." Peggy
+nodded, but could not yet find speech.
+
+"And now," the old lady went on, "I am sure you are longing to know who
+I am, and why I live here by myself, like an old fairy godmother. Sit
+down, my dears, and be comfortable! Here, Margaret, the little
+rocking-chair is pleasant; Peggy, child, take the footstool! So! now you
+look more at home.
+
+"Well, children, the truth is, I am very old. When my next birthday
+comes, I shall be ninety years old; a very great age, my dears! Your
+grandfather was my cousin; and when, five years ago, I was left alone in
+the world by the death of my dear only son, John Montfort, your uncle,
+like the good lad he is, found me out and brought me home with him to
+live. He is my godson, and I loved him very much when he was a little
+child; so now, when I am old and helpless, he makes return by loving
+me."
+
+She paused to wipe her eyes; then went on.
+
+"When one is nearly ninety years old, one does not care to move about
+much, even if one is perfectly well, as I am. John knew this (he knows
+a great deal), and he fitted up these pleasant rooms, in the warmest and
+quietest corner of the house, and here he put me, with my little maid,
+and my books, and my cat, and my parrot; and here I live, my dears, very
+cheerfully and happily. On pleasant days I go out in my garden, and sit
+under the trees. Look out of the window, girls, and see my green
+parlour. Is it not pretty?"
+
+The girls knelt on the broad window-seat, and looked out. Before them
+was a square, grassy place, smooth and green as an emerald. The house
+enclosed it on two sides; the other two were screened by a hedge of
+Norway fir, twenty feet high, and solid as a wall. Over this the
+sunbeams poured in, flecking the green with gold. In one corner stood a
+laburnum-tree, covered with yellow blossoms; under a tall elm near by
+was a rustic seat.
+
+"How do you like my kingdom?" asked the old lady, smiling at their eager
+faces.
+
+"It is like a fairy place!" said Margaret. "You are quite sure you are
+real, Mrs. Cheriton?" They smiled at each other, feeling friends
+already.
+
+"'Mrs. Cheriton' will never do, if we are to see each other every day,
+as I hope we are. How would you like to call me Aunt Faith?"
+
+"Oh, the lovely name!" cried Margaret. "Thank you so much! Now we really
+belong to some one, and we shall not feel strange any more; shall we,
+Peggy?"
+
+"I--s'pose not!" stammered Peggy. "I shall like it ever so much."
+
+The girls sat a little longer, chatting and listening. Mrs. Cheriton
+told them of her parrot, who was old too, and who spoke Spanish and
+French, and did not like English; she showed them her books, many of
+which were bound in white vellum or parchment. "It is a fancy of
+John's," she said, "to have all my belongings white. I think he still
+remembers his Aunt Phoebe. Do you know about your Great-aunt Phoebe?"
+
+The girls said no, and begged to hear, but Mrs. Cheriton said that must
+be for another time.
+
+"I must not keep you too long," she said, "for I want you to come often.
+I will call Janet, and she shall show you the way through my green
+parlour to the garden. The Fernley garden is the pleasantest in the
+world, I think."
+
+She touched the bell, and told the pretty rosy-cheeked maid who appeared
+to take the young ladies by the back way, and introduce them to
+Chiquito; and they took their leave regretfully, begging that they might
+come every day to the white chamber.
+
+Chiquito's cage hung in the porch, and Chiquito was hanging in it upside
+down. He swore frightfully at the sight of strangers, and bit Peggy's
+finger when she tried to stroke him; but at a word from Janet he was
+quiet, and said, "_Me gustan todas!_" in a plaintive tone, with his head
+on one side.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Peggy. "He's horrid, isn't he?"
+
+Janet's feeling were hurt. "He doesn't mean it!" she said. "And he
+always wants to be pleasant when he says that. Something out of a
+Spanish song, Mrs. Cheriton says it is, and means that he likes folks.
+You do like folks when they like you, don't you, poor Chico?"
+
+"_En general!_" said the bird, cocking his yellow eye at Peggy. "_Me
+gustan todas en general!_"
+
+"Well, I never!" said Peggy. "I think he's a witch, Margaret."
+
+They went through a low door cut in the green wall, and found themselves
+in the great shady garden, a place of wonder and mystery. The trees and
+plants had been growing for two hundred years, ever since James Montfort
+had left the court of Charles II. in disgust, and come out to build his
+home and make his garden in the new country, where freedom waited for
+her children.
+
+The great oaks and elms and chestnuts were green with moss and hoary
+with lichens, but the flower-beds lay out in broad sunshine, and here
+were no signs of age, only of careful tending and renewal. Margaret was
+enchanted with the flowers, for her home had been in a town, and she
+knew little of country joys. Peggy glanced carelessly at the geraniums
+and heliotropes, and told Margaret that she should see a field of
+poppies in bloom.
+
+They came across the gardener, who straightened himself at sight of
+them, and greeted them with grave politeness. He was a tall, strongly
+made man, with, grizzled hair and bright, dark eyes.
+
+"May we pick a few flowers?" asked Margaret in her pleasant way.
+
+"Surely, miss; any, and all you like, except these beds of young slips
+here, which I am nursing carefully. I hope you will be often in the
+garden, young ladies!" and he saluted again, in military fashion, as the
+girls walked away.
+
+"What a remarkable-looking man!" said Margaret. "I wonder if I can have
+seen him anywhere. There is something about his face--"
+
+"Oh, there is the swing!" cried Peggy. "Come along, Margaret; I'll race
+you to that big chestnut-tree!" and away flew the two girls over the
+smooth green turf.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+"What are you doing, _très chère_?" asked Rita, suddenly appearing at
+Margaret's door. "How is it you pass your time so cheerfully? how to
+live, in this deplorable solitude? You see me fading away, positively a
+shadow, in this hideous solitude!"
+
+Margaret looked up cheerfully from her work.
+
+"Come in, daughter of despair!" she said. And Rita came in and flung
+herself on the sofa with a tragic air.
+
+"You are doing--what?" she demanded.
+
+"I have rather a hopeless task, I fear," said Margaret. "Peggy's hat!
+She dropped it into the pond yesterday, and I am trying to smarten it up
+a little, poor thing! What do you advise, Rita? I am sure you have
+clever fingers, you embroider so beautifully."
+
+"I should advise the fire," said Rita, looking with scorn at the
+battered hat. "Put it in now, this moment. It will burn well, and it can
+do nothing else decently."
+
+"Ten miles from a shop," said Margaret, "and nothing else save her best
+hat. No, my lady, we cannot be so extravagant. If you will not help me,
+I must e'en do the best I can. I never could understand hats!" she added
+ruefully.
+
+"_Why_ do you do these things?" Rita asked, sitting up as suddenly as
+she had flung herself down. "Will you tell me why? I love you! I have
+told you twenty times of it; but I cannot understand why you do these
+things for that young monster. Will you tell me why?"
+
+"In the first place, she is not a monster, and I will not have you say
+such things, Rita. In the second place, I am very fond of her; and in
+the third, I should try to help her all I could, even if I were not fond
+of her."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it is a duty."
+
+"Duty?" Rita laughed, and made a pretty little grimace. "English word,
+ugly and stupid word! I know not its meaning. You are fond of Calibana?
+Then I revere less your taste, that is all. Ah! what do you make there?
+That cannot be; it cuts the soul!"
+
+She took the hat hastily from Margaret's hand. Had the latter been a
+little overclumsy on purpose? Certainly her dimple deepened a little as
+she relinquished the forlorn object. Rita held it on her finger and
+twirled it around.
+
+"The fire is really the only place for it," she said again; "but if it
+must be preserved, do you not see that the only possible thing is to
+turn this ribbon? It was not wet through; the other side is fresh."
+
+She still frowned at the hat, but her fingers began to move here and
+there, twisting and turning in a magical way. In five minutes the hat
+was a different object, and Margaret gave a little cry of pleasure.
+
+"Rita, you are a dear! Why, it looks better than it did before the
+wetting, ever and ever so much better! Thank you, you clever creature! I
+shall bring all my hats to you for treatment, and I am sure Peggy will
+be so much obliged when I tell her--"
+
+"If you dare!" cried Rita. "You will do nothing of the sort, I beg, _ma
+cousine_. What I have done, was done for you; I desire neither thanks
+nor any other thing from La Calibana. That she remain out of my sight
+when possible, that she hold her tongue when we must be together,--that
+is all I demand. Reasonable, I hope? If not--" She shrugged her
+shoulders and began to hum a love-song.
+
+Margaret sighed. "If you could only see, my dear," she began gently,
+"how much happier we should all be, if you and Peggy could only make up
+your minds to make the best of it--"
+
+"The best!" cried Rita, flashing into another mood, and coming to hover
+over her quiet cousin like a bird of paradise. "Do I not make the best?
+You are the best, Marguerite. I make all I can of you--except a
+milliner; never could I do that."
+
+"Listen!" she added, dropping on the floor by Margaret's side. "You see
+me happy to-day, do you not? I do not frown or pout,--I can't see why I
+should not, when I feel black,--but to-day is a white day. And why? Can
+you guess?"
+
+Margaret shook her head discreetly.
+
+"I cannot do more than guess," she said, "but you seemed very much
+pleased with the letter that came this morning."
+
+Rita flung her arms round her. "Aha!" she cried. "We perceive! We drop
+our dove's eyes; we look more demure than any mouse, but we perceive!
+Ah! Marguerite, behold me about to give you the strongest proof of my
+love: I confide in you."
+
+She drew a bulky letter from her pocket. Margaret looked at it
+apprehensively, fearing she knew not what.
+
+"From my friend," Rita explained, spreading the sheets of thin blue
+paper, crossed and recrossed, on her lap; "my Conchita, the other half
+of my soul. You shall hear part of it, Marguerite, but other parts are
+too sacred. She begins so beautifully: '_Mi alma_'--but you have no
+Spanish yet; the pity, to turn it into cold English! 'My soul' has a
+foolish sound. 'Saint Rosalie, Saint Eulalie, and the blessed Saint
+Teresa, have you in their holy keeping! I live the life of a withered
+leaf without you; my soul flies like a mourning bird to your frozen
+North, where you are immured'--oh, it doesn't sound a bit right! I
+cannot read it in English." Indeed, Margaret thought it sounded too
+silly for her beloved language, but she said nothing, only giving a
+glance of sympathetic interest.
+
+"She tells me of all they are doing," Rita went on. "All day they sit in
+the closed rooms, as the sun is too hot for going out; but in the
+evening they drive, and Conchita has been allowed to ride on horseback.
+Fancy, what bliss! Fernando was with her!"
+
+Rita stopped suddenly, and Margaret, feeling that she must say
+something, echoed, "Fernando?"
+
+"Her brother," said Rita, and she cast down her eyes. "Also a friend of
+mine,--a cousin on my mother's side; the handsomest person in Havana,
+the most enchanting, the most distinguished! He sends me messages,--no
+matter about those; but think of this: he is leaving Havana, he is
+coming to New York, he will be in this country! Marguerite! think of
+it!"
+
+"What shall I think of it?" asked Margaret, raising her eyes to her
+cousin's; the gray eyes were cool and tranquil, but the dark ones were
+full of fire and light.
+
+"Is he a friend of your father's, too, Rita?"
+
+Rita's face darkened. "My father!" she cried impatiently. "My father is
+a knight of the middle ages; he demands the stiff behaviour of fifty in
+a youth of twenty-one. He, who has forgotten what youth is!" She was
+silent for a moment, but the shadow remained on her beautiful face.
+
+"After all, it is no matter," she said, rising abruptly; "I was
+mistaken, Marguerite. The letter is for me alone; you would not care for
+it,--perhaps not understand it. You, too, have the cold Northern blood.
+Forget what I have said."
+
+"Oh, but, my dear," cried Margaret, fearful of losing her slight hold on
+this creature of moods, "don't be so unkind! I want to know why they
+must sit in the house all day, and what they do from morning till night.
+I have always longed to know about the life you live at home. Be good
+now, wild bird, and perch again."
+
+Rita wavered, but when Margaret laid her cool, firm hand on hers, she
+sank down again, though she still looked dissatisfied.
+
+"We sit in the house," she said, "of course, in the heats,--what else
+could we do? Only at night is it possible to go out. No, we do not read
+much. It is too hot to read, and Cuban women do not care for books; oh,
+a romance now and then; but for great, horrible books like those you
+_raffole_ about downstairs there,--" she shook her shoulders as if
+shaking off a heavy weight. "We sew a great deal, embroider, do
+lace-work like that you admired. Then at noon we sleep as long as
+possible, and in the evening we go out to walk, drive, ride. To walk in
+the orange-groves by moonlight,--ah! that is heaven! One night last
+month we slipped out, Conchita and I, and--you must never breathe this,
+Marguerite--and met my brother and Fernando beneath the great
+orange-tree in the south grove--"
+
+"Your brother!" exclaimed Margaret. "You never told me you had a
+brother, Rita!"
+
+"Hush! I have so much the habit of silence about him. He is with the
+army. My father is a Spaniard. Carlos and I are Cubans." Her eyes
+flashed, and she looked like the spirit of battle.
+
+"My father will not hear him named!" she cried. "He would have Cuba
+continue a slave, she, who will be the queen and goddess of the sea when
+the war is over! Ah, Marguerite! my heart is on flame when I speak of my
+country. Well,--we met them there. They are both with the army, the
+insurgents, as the Spaniards call them. We walked up and down. The
+orange-blossoms were so sweet, the fragrance hung like clouds in the
+air. I had a lace mantilla over my head,--I will show it to you one day.
+We talked of _Cuba libre_, and they told us how they live there in the
+mountains. Ah! if a girl could fight, would I be here? No; a sword
+should be by my side, a plume in my hat, and I would be with Carlos and
+Fernando in the mountains. Well,--ah, the bad part is to come! Carlos
+had been wounded; his arm was in a sling. Folly, to make it of a white
+handkerchief! The señora--my father's wife--must have seen it shining
+among the trees; we know it must have been that, for we girls wore black
+dresses of purpose,--a woman thinks of what a man never dreams of. She
+called my father; he came out, raging. We had a fine scene. Burning
+words passed between my father and Carlos. They vowed never to see each
+other more. They went, and Conchita and I go fainting, dying, into the
+house. Three days after comes my uncle's letter,--behold me here!
+Marguerite, this is my story. Preserve it in your bosom, it is a sacred
+confidence."
+
+Margaret hardly knew whether she were in real life, or in a theatre.
+Rita's voice, though low, vibrated with passion; her eyes were liquid
+fire; her little hands clenched themselves, and she drew her breath in
+through her closed teeth with a savage sound. Then, suddenly, all was
+changed. She flung her arms apart, and burst into laughter.
+
+"Your face!" she cried. "Marguerite, your face! what a study of horror!
+You, cool stream, flowing over white sands, you have never seen a rapid,
+how much less a torrent. You, do you know what life is? My faith, I
+think not! I frighten you, my cousin."
+
+Margaret was indeed troubled as well as absorbed in all she had heard.
+What a volcano this girl was! What might she not do or say, in some
+moment of passion? This was all new to Margaret; her life had been so
+sheltered, a quiet stream indeed, till her father's death the year
+before. She had known few girls save her schoolmates, for the most part
+quiet, studious girls like herself. She had lived a great deal in books,
+and knew far more about Spain in the sixteenth century than Cuba in the
+nineteenth. What should she do? How should she learn to curb and help
+these two restless spirits, so different, yet both turning to her and
+flying in detestation from each other?
+
+Pondering thus, she made no reply for a moment; but Rita was in no mood
+to endure silence.
+
+"Statue!" she cried. "Thing of marble! I pour out my soul to you, and
+you have no words for me! And we have been here a week, a mortal,
+suffering week, and I know nothing of your life, your thought. Tell me,
+you, how you have lived, before you came here. I frighten you, I see it;
+try now if you can tame me."
+
+She laughed again, and shook all her pretty ribbons and frills. Every
+day she dressed as if for a _fête_, and took a mournful pleasure in
+reflecting how her toilets were all wasted.
+
+"How did I live?" said Margaret vaguely. "Oh, very quietly, Rita. So
+quietly, I don't think you would care to hear about my days."
+
+"I burn to hear!" cried Rita. "I perish! Continue, Marguerite."
+
+"I lived with my dear father." Margaret spoke slowly and reluctantly.
+Her memories were so precious, she could not bear to drag them out, and
+expose them to curious, perhaps unloving, eyes.
+
+"Our house was in Blankton, a tiny little house, just big enough for
+Father and me; my mother died, you know, a good many years ago, and
+Father and I have been always together. He wrote a great
+deal,--historical work,--and I helped him, and wrote for him, and read
+with him. Then--oh, I went to school, of course, and we walked every
+afternoon, and in the evening Father read aloud while I worked, and I
+played and sang for him. You see, Rita, there really is not much to
+tell."
+
+Not much! yet in the telling, the girl felt her heart beat high and
+painfully, and the sobs rise in her throat, as the dear, happy, peaceful
+days came back to her; the blessed home life, the love which hedged her
+in so that no rough wind should blow on her, the wise, kindly, loving
+companionship of him who had been father and mother both to her. The
+tears came to her eyes, and she was silent, feeling that she could not
+speak for the moment. Rita was thoughtful, too, and when she spoke
+again, it was in a softened tone.
+
+"I can picture it!" she said. "It is a picture without colour; I could
+not have borne such a life; but for you, Marguerite, so tranquil,
+demanding so little, with peace in your soul, it must have been sweet.
+And now,--after this summer here, only not horrible because in it I
+learn to know my dear Marguerite,--after this summer, what do you do?
+what is your life?"
+
+"I hope to get a position as teacher," said Margaret. "Then, when I have
+earned something, I shall go to the Library School, and learn to be a
+librarian; that has been my dream for a long time."
+
+"Your nightmare!" cried Rita. "What dreadful things even to think about,
+Marguerite! But it shall not be; never, I tell you! You shall come back
+with me to Cuba, and be my sister. I have money--oceans, I believe;
+more than I can spend, try as I will. You shall live with me; we will
+buy a plantation, orange-groves, sugar-cane,--you shall study
+cultivation, I will ride about the plantation--"
+
+"By moonlight?" asked Marguerite mischievously.
+
+"Always by moonlight!" cried Rita. "It shall be always moonlight! Carlos
+shall be our intendant, and Fernando--"
+
+"I think Fernando would much better stay in the mountains!" said
+Margaret decidedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE PEAT-BOG.
+
+
+It was a great relief to Margaret to carry her perplexities to Aunt
+Faith and talk them over. Mrs. Cheriton's mind and sympathies were as
+quick and alert as if she were still a young woman, instead of being
+near the rounding of the completed century. She listened with kindly
+interest, and her wise and tender words cleared away many of the cobwebs
+of anxiety that beset Margaret's sky.
+
+"Let patience have her perfect work!" she was fond of saying. "Neither
+of these children is to be led by precept, I think. Make your own ways,
+ways of pleasantness as well as paths of peace, and soon or late they
+will fall into them. You cannot expect to do much in a week, or two
+weeks, or three weeks. Or it may be," she would add, "that you are not
+to do it after all; it may be that other things and persons will be
+called in. The ordering is wise, but we cannot often understand it, for
+it is written in cipher. Do you only the best you can, my child, and
+keep your own head steady, and you will find the others settling into
+harness before long."
+
+"It distresses me," Margaret said, "to have Rita so rude to the
+servants. I cannot speak to her about that, I suppose; but it is really
+too bad. Elizabeth is so sensible, I am sure she understands how it all
+is; but--well, the gardener, Aunt Faith! John Strong! Why, any one can
+see that he is an uncommon man; not the least an ordinary labouring man.
+Do you know how much he knows?"
+
+Mrs. Cheriton nodded. "John Strong is a very remarkable man," she said;
+"you are right there, Margaret. And Rita is uncivil to him? Do you know,
+I should not trouble myself about that if I were you. If Elizabeth can
+understand that Rita has been brought up without learning any respect
+for the dignity of labour, John Strong will understand it twice as well,
+for he has more than twice the intelligence."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Faith! You are so comforting! He--he has been here a
+long time, has he not? I should think my uncle must have great
+confidence in him; and he has such beautiful manners!"
+
+"His manners," said Mrs. Cheriton emphatically, "are perfect." Then she
+said, changing the subject rather hastily, "And where are the two other
+girls to-day, my dear? They do not incline to come to me often, I
+perceive. It is not strange; many very young people dislike the sight of
+extreme age; you have been taught differently, my dear,--Roger Montfort
+was always a thoughtful, sensible lad, like John. No, I do not blame
+them in the least for keeping away, but I like to know what they are
+doing."
+
+"I--I don't really know, just now," and Margaret hung her head a little;
+"Peggy wanted me to go to walk with her an hour or so ago, but I was
+just reading a book that Papa had always told me about,--'The Fool of
+Quality,' you know it?--and I did not want to leave it. I ought to have
+gone; I will go now, and see where they both are. Dear Aunt Faith, thank
+you so much for letting me come and talk to you; you can't think what a
+relief it is when I am puzzled."
+
+The old lady's sweet smile lingered like a benediction with Margaret, as
+she went back to the main house, carefully closing the door that shut
+off the white rooms. Surely she had been selfish to stay indoors with a
+book, instead of going out with her cousin; but oh, the book understood
+her so much better, and was so much more companionable! Now, however,
+she would be good, and would go and see what both the cousins were
+doing. They were not together, of course; Rita was very likely asleep at
+this hour; but Peggy, what had Peggy been doing?
+
+What had Peggy been doing?
+
+She had sauntered out rather disconsolately, on Margaret's refusing to
+accompany her. She was so used to being one of a large, shouting,
+struggling family, that she felt, perhaps more than any of the three
+girls, the retirement and quiet of Fernley. She wanted to run and scream
+and make a noise, but there was no fun in doing it alone. If Jean were
+only here!
+
+She went through the garden, and found some consolation in a talk with
+John Strong, who, always the pink of courtesy, leaned on his hoe, and
+told her many valuable things concerning the late planting. Her
+questions were shrewd and intelligent, for Peggy had not lived on a farm
+for nothing, and she already knew more about the possibilities of
+Fernley than Margaret or Rita would learn in a year.
+
+"Where shall I go for a walk?" she asked, when John Strong showed signs
+of thinking about his work again. "I hate to go alone, but no one would
+come with me. I have been over the hill and into the oak woods. What is
+another nice way to go, where there will be strawberries?"
+
+John Strong considered. "About two miles from here, miss, you'll find a
+very pretty strawberry patch. Go through the oak woods and along beside
+the bog; but be careful not to step into the bog itself, for it is a
+treacherous bit."
+
+"What kind of a bog? Why don't you drain it?" asked Peggy.
+
+"It is a peat-bog," returned the gardener. "It would be a very costly
+matter to drain it, but I believe Mr. Montfort is thinking of it, miss.
+A short way beyond the woods you'll come upon the strawberry meadow; it
+is the best I know of hereabouts. Good morning, miss."
+
+Off went Peggy, swinging her hat by the ribbon, a loop of which was
+coming off, and thinking of home and of Jean, her most intimate sister.
+She loved Margaret dearly already, but one had always to be on one's
+good behaviour with her, she was so good herself. Oh, how delightful it
+would be to have Jean here, and to have a race through the woods, and
+then a good, jolly romp, and perhaps a "spat," before they settled down
+to the business of strawberry-picking! She could have spats enough with
+that horrid, spiteful Cuban girl, but there was no fun in those; just
+cold, sneering hatefulness. Thinking of her cousin Rita, Peggy gave her
+hat a twist and a fling, and sent it flying across the green meadow on
+which she was now entering.
+
+"There!" she said, "I just wish that was you, Miss Rita,--I do! I
+wouldn't help you up, either."
+
+Then, rather ashamed of her outburst, she went to pick up the hat again;
+but, setting foot on the edge of the green meadow, she drew it back
+hastily.
+
+"Aha!" said Peggy. "The peat-bog! _Now_ I've been and gone and done it!"
+
+She whistled, a long, clear whistle that would have done credit to any
+one of her brothers, and gazed ruefully at the hat, which lay out of
+reach, resting quietly on the smooth emerald velvet of the quaking bog.
+
+"Oh, bother! Now I suppose I shall have to fish the old thing out. It
+will never look fit to be seen again, and Margaret retrimmed it only the
+other day. Well, here goes!"
+
+Looking about carefully, Peggy pulled a long bulrush from a clump that
+grew at the side of the bog. Then she walked along the edge, skirting
+with care the deceitful green that looked so fair and lovely, till she
+came to where a slender birch hung its long drooping branches out over
+the bog. Clinging to one of these branches, Peggy leaned forward as far
+as she dared, and began to angle for her hat. "He rises well," she
+muttered, "but he doesn't bite worth a cent."
+
+Twice she succeeded in working the end of the bulrush through the loop
+of ribbon that perked cheerfully on the top of the hat; twice the loop
+slipped off as she raised it, and the hat dropped back. The third time,
+however, was successful, and the skilful angler had the satisfaction of
+drawing the hat toward her, and finally rescuing it from its perilous
+position. Not all of it, however; the flower, the yellow rose, once
+Peggy's pride and joy, had become loosened during the various
+unaccustomed motions of its parent hat, and now lay, lonely and lovely,
+a golden spot on the bright green grass. Peggy fished again, but this
+time in vain; and finally she was obliged to give it up, and go off
+flowerless in search of her strawberries.
+
+Meanwhile, Margaret had been searching high and low for Peggy. John
+Strong could have told her where she was, but he had gone to a distant
+part of the farm, and no one had seen the two talking together.
+
+"A search for Calibana?" said Rita, when her cousin inquired for the
+wanderer. "My faith, why? If she can remain hidden for a time,
+Marguerite, consider the boon it would be!"
+
+[Illustration: PEGGY AT THE BOG.]
+
+But Margaret turned from her impatiently, seeing which, Rita was
+jealous, and said, "I had hoped you would take a walk with me, _ma
+cousine_. I perish for air! I cannot go alone through these places,--I
+might meet a dog."
+
+Margaret could not help laughing.
+
+"I think you might," she said. "And what then?"
+
+"I should die!" said Rita simply. Then, linking her arm in her cousin's
+with her most caressing gesture, she said, "Come with me, _alma mia_. We
+walk,--very likely we find La Calibana on our way. She cannot have
+strayed far, it is too near dinner-time; and she has a clock inside her;
+you know it well, Marguerite."
+
+Margaret could not refuse the offered company, and they set out in the
+same direction that Peggy had taken. Margaret had been in the oak woods
+several times with Peggy, and thought she might very likely find her
+there; but no one answered her call; only the trees rustled, and the
+hermit-thrush called in answer, deep in some thicket far away.
+Presently, as they walked, there shot through the dark oak branches a
+sunny gleam, a flash of green and gold. They pressed forward, and in
+another moment stood on the edge of the quaking bog. But they had not
+been warned; neither had they Peggy's practised eye, which would have
+told her even without the warning that this was no safe place.
+
+"Oh, what a lovely meadow!" cried Margaret. "I always wondered what lay
+beyond these woods, but have never come so far before. Shall we cross
+it, Rita? or does it look a little damp, do you think?"
+
+"It may be damp," said Rita indifferently. "I care not for damp, _très
+chère_. Let us cross, by all means. And look! see the golden flower;
+what can it be?"
+
+"I don't know, I am sure!" said Margaret, gazing innocently at the
+yellow muslin rose which had been under her hands only the day before.
+"It looks--I don't know what it looks like, Rita. But I am afraid the
+grass is very wet. Don't you see the wet shining through?"
+
+"Pouf!" said Rita. "Wait thou here, faint heart, while I bring the
+flower; that, at least, I must do, even if we go no further."
+
+She stepped over the grass so lightly and quickly that she had gone some
+steps before her feet began to sink in the black, oozy bog. Margaret
+saw the water bubbling up behind her, and cried to her in alarm to come
+back; and Rita, finding the earth plucking at her feet, turned willingly
+toward the solid ground; but return was impossible. She tried to lift
+her feet, but the bog held them fast, and with the effort, she felt
+herself sinking, slowly but surely.
+
+"Ah," she cried, "it is bad ground! It is a pit, Marguerite! Do not
+move, do not come near me! Run and get help!" For Margaret was already
+stepping forward with outstretched hands.
+
+"Stop where you are!" cried Rita imperiously. "Do you not see that if
+you come in, we are both lost? I tell you there is no ground here, no
+bottom! I sink, I feel it sucking me down, down! Ah, _Madre_! go,
+Marguerite, fly for help!"
+
+Poor Margaret turned in distraction. Whither should she fly? They were
+more than a mile from home. How could she leave her cousin in this
+dreadful plight? Before help could come, she might be lost indeed, drawn
+bodily under by the treacherous ooze. She turned away, but came running
+back suddenly, for she heard a sound coming from the opposite direction,
+a cheerful whistle.
+
+"Oh, Rita!" she cried; "help is near. I hear some one whistling, a boy
+or a man. Oh, help! help! Come this way, please!"
+
+The whistle changed to a cry of surprise, uttered in a familiar voice.
+The next minute, Peggy came running through the wood, her hands and face
+red with strawberry juice.
+
+Margaret could only gasp, and point to Rita, for her heart seemed to die
+within her when she saw that the newcomer was only a girl like
+herself,--only poor, awkward Peggy.
+
+They were no better off than before, save that now one could go for
+help, while the other could stay to cheer poor Rita. Rita was now deadly
+white; she had ceased to call. The black ooze had crept to her knees,
+and she no longer made any effort to extricate herself. Margaret was
+turning to run again, but Peggy stopped her. "Stand still!" she said.
+"I'll get her out."
+
+Ah, poor, awkward, ill-dressed Peggy, your hour has come now! Not for
+nothing were you brought up on a prairie, your eyes trained to
+quickness, your arms strong as steel, your wits ever on the alert where
+there is danger! Poor Peggy, this is your hour, and the haughty beauty
+and the gentle student must own you their superior.
+
+Peggy cast a keen glance around; she was looking for something. Spying a
+stout stake that had been broken off and was lying on the ground, she
+caught it up, and the next moment had thrown herself flat on her face.
+Lying flat, she began slowly and cautiously to wriggle out across the
+surface of the quaking bog. The black water seethed and bubbled under
+her; but her weight, evenly distributed, did not bear on any one spot
+heavily enough to press her down. Slowly, carefully, she worked her way
+out, while the other girls held their breath and dared not speak. Once,
+indeed, Rita moaned, and cried, "No, no, one is enough! Go back! I
+cannot let you come!"
+
+But Margaret had seen that in Peggy's eyes and mien which kept her
+silent. She stood trembling, with clasped hands, praying for both. She
+could do no more.
+
+"Lie down now, Rita!" Peggy commanded. "Lie flat, just as I am! Stretch
+out your arms,--so! Now, catch hold!"
+
+Rita obeyed to the point. It was terrible to lie down in that awful
+black slough that was to be her grave, perhaps, but she obeyed without a
+word. Stretching her arms as far as they would go, she touched the end
+of the stake,--touched, grasped, held fast; and now Peggy, still holding
+fast to her end, began to wriggle back, slowly, cautiously, moving by
+inches.
+
+"Kneel down on the edge, Margaret!" she said; "don't come over, but
+reach out and give us a haul in when you can touch. It's getting pretty
+deep here!"
+
+Margaret knelt and reached out her arms; could she touch them? Peggy was
+sinking now, but she still moved backward, dragging Rita with her; they
+were close by,--she had hold of Peggy's skirt. The stout gathers
+held,--which was a miracle, Peggy said afterward,--and the next moment
+all three girls were sitting on the safe, dry ground, crying and holding
+each other tight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FAMILY CHEST.
+
+
+Little was said on the homeward walk. Rita walked between her two
+cousins, holding fast a hand of each. She seemed hardly conscious of
+their presence, however; she sobbed occasionally, dry, tearless sobs,
+and murmured Spanish words to herself. Margaret caught the word
+_"Madre!"_ repeated over and over, and pressed her cousin's hand, and
+spoke soothing words; but Rita did not heed her. Peggy walked quickly,
+head in air, cheeks glowing, and eyes shining. All the awkwardness, the
+hanging head and furtive air, was gone, and Margaret looked at her in
+wonder and admiration. But both girls were a piteous sight as regarded
+their clothes. From head to foot they dripped with black mud, thick and
+slimy. Peggy's dress gave no hint of the original colour in the entire
+front, and Rita's was little better. Their very faces were bedabbled
+with black, and they left a black trail behind them on the grass. In
+this guise they met the astonished gaze of John Strong as he passed
+through the garden on his way to the seed-house. He came hurrying toward
+them with anxious looks.
+
+"My dear children," he cried, "what has happened?" Then, in a different
+tone, "I beg your pardon, young ladies! I was startled at seeing
+you,--there has been some accident?"
+
+But Rita was herself again now in an instant. Her eyes blazed with angry
+pride.
+
+"Keep your place, John Strong!" she said haughtily. "When we address
+you, it will be time for you to speak to us." She swept past him into
+the house, her superb bearing presenting a singular contrast to her
+attire; and Peggy followed her, already beginning to giggle and look
+foolish again. But Margaret lingered, distressed and mortified.
+
+"Oh, John," she said, "there _has_ been an accident! You will
+understand,--Miss Rita got into that terrible bog, and might have been
+drowned there before my eyes, if Miss Peggy had not come by, and drawn
+her out so cleverly." And she told him the whole story, dwelling warmly
+upon Peggy's courage and presence of mind, and blaming herself for not
+having perceived the danger in time.
+
+"It is I who am to blame, Miss Margaret!" said John Strong. "Very, very
+much to blame. Every one about here knows that peat-bog, and avoids it;
+I had warned Miss Peggy, but did not think of your going so far in that
+direction. I am very much to blame."
+
+He seemed so much disturbed that Margaret tried to speak more lightly,
+though she was still pale and trembling; but the gardener kindly begged
+her to go in and rest, and she was glad enough to go.
+
+John Strong stood looking after her a moment.
+
+"I ought to be shot!" he said to himself. "And that is the lassie for
+me! Good stuff in both the others, as I supposed, but this is the one
+for me." And shaking his head, he went slowly on his way.
+
+Margaret went straight to Peggy's room, but found it empty, and passing
+by Rita's found the door shut, and heard voices within. She paused a
+moment, wondering. Should she go in? No; she remembered Mrs. Cheriton's
+words, "It may be that you are not to do it, after all," and she went
+into her own room and shut the door.
+
+It might have been half an hour after that she heard a whispering in the
+hall outside, and then a knock at her door. She ran to open it, and
+stood amazed. There was Peggy, blushing and smiling, looking as pleased
+as a little child, arrayed in the rose-coloured tea-gown whose existence
+she had endangered on the night of her arrival; and there beside her,
+holding her hand, was Rita, in pale blue and swansdown,--Rita, also
+smiling, but with the mockery for once gone from eyes and mouth, and
+with traces of tears on her beautiful face. She now led Peggy forward,
+and presented her formally to Margaret, with a sweeping courtesy.
+
+"Miss Montfort," she began, "this is my sister. I desire for her the
+honour and privilege of your distinguished acquaintance. She kisses your
+hands and feet, as do I myself."
+
+Then suddenly she threw herself upon Margaret's neck, still holding
+Peggy's hand, so that all three were wrapped in one embrace.
+
+"Marguerite," she cried, "behold this child! I have been a brute to her,
+you know it well--" and Margaret certainly did. "A brute, a devil-fish,
+what you will! and she--she has saved my life! You saw it, you heard it;
+another moment, and I should have gone--" she shuddered. "I cannot speak
+of it. But now, Marguerite, hear me swear!"
+
+"Oh my!" ejaculated Peggy, in some alarm.
+
+"Hear me swear!" repeated Rita passionately; "from this moment Peggy is
+my sister. You are not jealous, no? You are also my own soul, but you
+are sufficient to yourself; what do you need, piece of Northern
+perfection that you are? Peggy needs me; I take her, I care for her, I
+form her! so shall it be!" And once more she embraced both cousins
+warmly.
+
+Margaret's eyes filled with happy tears.
+
+"Dear Peggy! Dear Rita!" was all she could say at first, as she returned
+their embraces. Then she made them come in and sit down, and looked from
+one to the other. "It is so good!" she cried. "Oh, so good! You can't
+imagine, girls, how I have longed for this! It did seem so dreadful that
+you should not have the pleasure of each other--but we will not speak
+of that any more! No! and we will bless the black bog for bringing you
+together."
+
+But Rita shuddered again, and begged that she might never hear of the
+bog again.
+
+"Do you observe Peggy's hair?" she asked. "What do you think of it?"
+
+The fair hair was brought smoothly up over the well-shaped head, and
+wound in a pretty, fluffy Psyche knot. The effect was charming in one
+way, but--
+
+"It makes her look too grown-up," Margaret protested. "It is very
+pretty, but I want her to be a little girl as long as she can. You don't
+want to be a young lady yet, do you, Peggy?"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried Peggy. "Indeed I don't! But Rita thought--"
+
+"Rita thought!" cried that young lady, nodding her head sagely. "Rita
+thought wrong, as usual, and Margaret thought right. It is too old; but
+what of that? We will try another style. Ten, twenty ways of dressing
+hair I know. Often and often Conchita and I have spent a whole day
+dressing each other's hair, trying this effect, that effect. Ah, the
+superb hair that Conchita has; it sweeps the floor,--and soft--ah, as a
+bat's wool!"
+
+A few hours ago, Peggy would have sniffed scornfully at all this; but
+now she listened with interest, and something of awe, as her beautiful
+cousin discoursed of braids and puffs, and told of the extraordinary
+effect that might sometimes be produced by a single small curl set at
+the proper curve of the neck. It sounded pretty frivolous, to be sure,
+but then, Rita looked so earnest and so lovely, and it was so new and
+delightful to be addressed by her as an equal,--and a beloved equal at
+that; Peggy's little head was in evident danger of being turned by the
+new position of affairs.
+
+Margaret, feeling that there were limits, even to the subject of
+hairdressing, presently proposed a visit to Aunt Faith, and for once
+neither cousin made any objection. Peggy was mortally afraid of the
+white old lady, and Rita said frankly that she did not like old people,
+and saw no reason why she should put herself out, simply because her
+uncle, whom she had never seen, had chosen to saddle himself with the
+burden of a centenarian. But to-day, Rita was shaken and softened out
+of all her waywardness, and she readily admitted the propriety of
+telling Mrs. Cheriton what had happened.
+
+Aunt Faith listened with deep interest, and was as shocked and
+distressed as heart could desire. The peat-bog, she told them, did not
+belong to their uncle; he had in vain tried to buy the land, in order
+that he might drain or fence it, but the proprietor refused to sell it.
+There was a terrible story, she said, of a man's being lost there, many
+years ago; it was a dreadful place.
+
+Then, seeing Rita shudder again, she changed the subject, and spoke of
+the charming contrast of the pale blue and rose-colour, in the two
+girls' dresses. "The pink suits you well, little Peggy," she said. "I
+have not seen you in a delicate colour before."
+
+"This isn't mine," said honest Peggy; "it is Rita's--" but Rita laid her
+hand over her mouth.
+
+"It _is_ hers!" she said; "a nothing! a tea-gown of last year! One is
+ashamed to offer such a thing, not fit to scour floors in--"
+
+"Certainly not!" said Mrs. Cheriton, laughing. "Ah, Rita! you have the
+Spanish ways, I see. I have heard nothing of that sort since I was in
+Spain sixty years ago."
+
+"What, you have been in Spain!" cried Rita, with animation. "Ah, I did
+not know! Please tell us about it."
+
+"Another time. You would like to hear, I think, about the winter I spent
+in Granada, close by the Alhambra. But now I have something else to say.
+Your pretty dresses remind me that there is a chest of old gowns here
+that it might interest you to look over. Some of them are quite old, two
+hundred years or more."
+
+Then, while the girls uttered cries of delight, she called Janet and
+bade her open the cedar chest in the next room.
+
+"This way, my dears!" and she led the way into a bedroom, as white and
+fresh and dainty as the sitting-room. Janet was already on her knees
+before a deep chest, quaintly carved, and clamped with brass. Now, at
+her mistress's request, she began to lift out the contents.
+
+"Oh! oh! oh!" cried the three girls, positively squeaking with rapture
+and wonderment. The old lady looked from them to the dresses with a
+pleased smile. "They are handsome!" she said.
+
+And they were! They must have been stately dames indeed, the Montfort
+ladies who wore these splendid clothes! Here was a crimson damask, so
+heavily embroidered in silver that it stood alone when Janet set it up
+on the floor; here, again, a velvet, somewhat rubbed by long lying in
+the chest, but of so rich and glowing a purple that only a queen could
+have found it becoming. Here were satins that gleamed like falling
+water; one, of the faint, moonlight tint that we call aqua-marine,
+another with a rosy glow like a reflected sunset. And the peach-coloured
+silk! and the blue and silver brocade! and the amber velvet!
+
+Before the bottom of the chest was reached, the girls were silent,
+having exhausted their stock of words.
+
+At last Margaret cried, "Who were these people, Aunt Faith? Were they
+princesses, or runaway Indian begums, or what? They certainly cannot
+have been simple gentlewomen!"
+
+Mrs. Cheriton laughed her soft, rustling laugh.
+
+"It is a curious old Montfort custom," she said; "it has come down
+through many generations, I believe. The women have had the habit of
+keeping the handsomest gown they had, or one connected with some special
+great event, and laying it in this old chest. Some of them are
+wedding-gowns,--those two satins, for example, and that white brocade
+with the tiny rosebuds,--that was your Grandmother Montfort's
+wedding-gown, my dears, and she looked like a rose in it; I was
+bridesmaid at her wedding. But others,--ah! hand me the blue and silver
+brocade, Janet! Yes, here is an inscription that will, I think, amuse
+you, my children. This was my own mother's contribution to the family
+chest."
+
+She beckoned the girls to look, and they bent eagerly forward. Under the
+rich lace in the neck of the splendid brocade, a piece of paper was
+neatly stitched, and on the paper was written: "This Gown was worne at
+Madam Washington's Ball. I danced with Gen. Washington, the Court
+Minuet, and he praised my dancing. Afterwards the Gen. spilled Wine
+uppon the Front Peece, but I put French Chalks to it, and now the Spotte
+may hardly be Seen."
+
+"Oh," sighed Margaret, "how enchanting! how perfectly delightful! Are
+they all marked, Aunt Faith?"
+
+"Not all, but a good many of them. See! Here is something on this
+sea-green cloak; notice the sleeves, Rita: they are something in the
+Spanish style, as it was in my youth. Let us see what is written here,
+for I forget."
+
+They bent over the yellow writing; in this case it was pinned on the
+hanging sleeve, and read as follows: "This Cloak, with the flowered
+satin Gown, was worn by me, Henrietta Montfort, the last time I went to
+a worldly Assemblage. I lay them away, having entered upon a Life of
+Retirement and Meditation since the Death of my deere Husband. Mem. The
+Cloake was lined with Sabels, which I have removed, lest Moth and Rust
+do corrupt, and have made them into Muffs for the Poor."
+
+"I believe she became a great saint," said Mrs. Cheriton, "and a very
+severe one. I have heard that in the coldest winter weather she would
+not let her servants build fires on Sunday because she did not consider
+it a necessary work. There is a story that one bitter cold Sunday some
+one came to call, and found the whole family in bed, servants and all,
+trying to keep warm. I know they never had any warm victuals on that
+day."
+
+"How pleasant to live now," said Margaret, "instead of then! Aren't you
+glad, girls?"
+
+"My faith!" said Rita, "I would have made a fire with the house, and
+burned her in it; then I should have been warm. But what is this, Aunt
+Faith? If I am truly to call you so, yes? What horror is this? Look at
+the beautiful satin, all destroyed! Cut!--it is cut with knives,
+Marguerite! Look!"
+
+Janet held up a white satin gown, of quaint and graceful fashion. Sure
+enough, it was cut and slashed in every direction, the sleeves hanging
+in ribbons, the skirt slit and gashed down its entire length. Mrs.
+Cheriton shook her head in answer to the girls' looks of amazement and
+inquiry.
+
+"I am sorry you saw that, Rita!" she said. "It recalls a sad story,
+which might better be forgotten. However--well, that gown belonged to my
+poor Aunt Penelope. She was a beautiful girl, but headstrong, and she
+married, against her parents' wishes, a handsome, good-for-nothing man,
+who made her desperately unhappy, and finally left her. She lost her
+mind, poor soul, from sorrow and suffering. When her father brought her
+home to Fernley, she took this, her wedding-gown, and cut it up in this
+strange fashion that you see, and laid it so in the chest; as a warning,
+she told her mother. She died very soon after her return; poor Aunt
+Penelope!"
+
+She signed to Janet to lay the tattered gown back; and it seemed to the
+girls as if the poor lady herself were being laid back in her coffin to
+rest after her troubled life.
+
+"Does--does she walk?" asked Peggy, in an awestruck voice.
+
+"Walk?" repeated Mrs. Cheriton. "I don't--oh, yes! her ghost, you mean,
+Peggy? No, my dear. I fancy she was too tired to think of anything but
+resting. There is only one Montfort ghost that I ever heard of, and that
+one is not a woman's."
+
+"Oh, tell us! Tell us, please!" cried all three girls eagerly. "A real
+ghost? How thrilling!"
+
+"I did not say it was a real ghost, you impetuous children. I do not
+believe in ghosts myself, and I never saw this one. But people used to
+think that the spirit of Hugo Montfort haunted one of the rooms. He died
+suddenly, in great trouble about some family papers that had been lost,
+and the family tradition is that he comes back from time to time to hunt
+once more through desks and drawers, in hope of finding them. He has
+never done so, I believe; but then, he has never been here since I came
+to Fernley. Your Uncle John is no ghost-lover, any more than I am, and I
+fear poor Hugo may feel the lack of sympathy. And now," she added, "this
+is positively enough of old-time gossip. I do not know when I have
+talked so much, children; you make me young and frivolous once more."
+
+"Oh," cried Peggy, who had listened open-mouthed to the last tale; "but
+just tell us what he looks like, when any one does see him. I have
+wanted all my life to be where there was a ghost. Is he--is he in
+white?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no! Hugo Montfort is no hobgoblin ghost in a white sheet,
+with a pumpkin head! He was a very elegant gentleman in his time, and I
+believe his favorite wear is black velvet. By the way, his portrait is
+in the long gallery upstairs. Have you been there, my dears? There are
+some curious old portraits. And there is the garret; you have surely
+visited the garret?"
+
+But the girls had not, they confessed. There had been so much to do, the
+days had gone so rapidly. Margaret alone realised, and she perhaps for
+the first time, how little they had really seen of the house itself.
+There was so much to see out of doors, and when indoors she was always
+drawn irresistibly to the library and its entrancing folios and quartos.
+Peggy had, one rainy day, proposed to "see if there wasn't a garret or
+some place where they could have some fun." But Margaret, as she now
+remembered with a pang, had just discovered the "Hakluyt Chronicles,"
+and was conscious of nothing in the world save the volume before her,
+and the longing wish for her father to enjoy it with her.
+
+"We will go this very afternoon!" she cried, with animation. "Is it
+unlocked? May we roam about wherever we like, Aunt Faith? It sounds
+like Bluebeard! Are there no doors that we may not open?"
+
+"None among those that you will see there," said Mrs. Cheriton. And
+Margaret fancied that she looked grave for a moment. "You will find more
+trunks there," she added quickly, "full of old trumpery, less valuable
+than these dresses, and which you may like to amuse yourselves with.
+Here are the keys of some of them--the wig trunk, the military trunk;
+yes, I think you may be sure of an afternoon's amusement if you are as
+fond of dressing up as I was at your age. Now we must say good-bye, my
+dear children; Janet is shaking her head at me, and it is true that I
+must not talk too long."
+
+She kissed them all affectionately, and they sped away, Margaret only
+lingering to look back with one parting glance at the beautiful old
+figure in its white chair.
+
+"The garret! the garret!" cried Rita. "Hurrah!" shouted Peggy. And they
+flew up the stairs like swallows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE GARRET.
+
+
+On the wide landing of the second story, the girls paused to draw breath
+and look about them. The long gallery ran around three sides of the
+house, with the stairs forming the fourth. It was hung with pictures,
+save where two or three doors broke the wall-space. Singular pictures
+they were, mostly family portraits, it was evident. Some of them were
+very good, though the gems of the collection, the Copleys and Stuarts,
+and the precious Sir Joshua Reynolds, were in the drawing-rooms below.
+The girls ran from one to the other, and great was their delight to
+recognise here and there one of the very gowns they had been admiring in
+the Family Chest.
+
+"Here is Henrietta Montfort, in the sea-green cloak!" cried Margaret.
+"Look, girls, what a haughty, disagreeable face; I don't wonder her
+family trembled before her."
+
+"And here--oh, here is Hugo!" cried Peggy; "black velvet, she said. Look
+here, Margaret!"
+
+The portrait was that of a man in middle life, handsomely dressed in
+black velvet, with hat and ruff. His face was sad, but the bright, dark
+eyes looked intelligently at the girls, and the whole face had a
+familiar look.
+
+"He has a look of Papa," said Margaret softly; "it is a weaker face, but
+there is a strong resemblance."
+
+"_I_ think he looks like John Strong," said Peggy decidedly.
+
+"My dear Peggy," said Rita, "I must pray that you will take less notice
+of our uncle's gardener. What does it matter to you how he looks? I ask
+you. Now that you are my sister I must teach you to forget this habit of
+speaking to servants as if they were your equals. I overheard you the
+other day conversing--absolutely conversing--with this man. Dear child,
+it is wholly unsuitable. I tell you, and I know."
+
+Margaret, who loved peace almost too well, was tempted to let this pass,
+but her conscience shouted at her, and she spoke.
+
+"I am sorry to have you regard John Strong as an ignorant or inferior
+person, Rita," she said gently, knowing that she seemed priggish, but
+encouraged by Peggy's confused and abashed look.
+
+"I think that if you were to talk with him a little yourself, you would
+feel differently. He is a very superior man, and Uncle John has the
+highest opinion of him; Aunt Faith has told me so."
+
+Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Really, _très chère_," she said, "this is
+a case in which it is not necessary, believe me, to go back a hundred
+years. We hear about the manners of the _vieille école_; my faith, the
+school may become too old!"
+
+"Rita!" cried Margaret indignantly. "How can you?"
+
+Rita only shrugged her shoulders; her eyes shone with the very spirit of
+wilfulness.
+
+"_Ma cousine_," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you cannot come
+to Havana with me. The quality of being always virtuous--it is
+abhorrent, _très chère_; correct it, if possible. And the garret cries
+out for us!" she said, turning away, with the straight line between her
+eyes that meant mischief, as Margaret had already learned. She turned to
+Peggy, who stood in some alarm, not knowing whether the old friend or
+the new should claim her allegiance.
+
+"_Allons!_" she cried. "The door, Peggy! which door will take us to this
+place of joy? this one? _Hein!_ it is locked; it will not open."
+
+"That must be Uncle John's room," said Peggy. "It is always locked. I--I
+have tried it two or three times." And she stole a guilty glance, which
+made the two older girls laugh outright.
+
+"Fatima!" said Margaret, trying to speak lightly, though her heart still
+burned from Rita's insolent words. "Peggy, it is a dangerous thing to
+try doors in a house like Fernley."
+
+"Oh, I dare say it is only a linen closet," said Peggy. "I shouldn't
+have cared, only it is provoking not to be able to see what is in there.
+But this is the garret door, this way. I went up part way once, but it
+seemed so big and spooky, I didn't want to go all the way alone."
+
+It was a big place, indeed, this garret! The girls looked about them in
+wonder, as soon as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that came
+from the small gable windows. The corners were black and deep,--miles
+deep, poor Peggy thought, as she peered into them. Old furniture lay
+about, broken chairs and gouty-legged tables. In one corner a huge chest
+of drawers loomed, with round, hunched shoulders, as if it were leaning
+forward to watch them; in another--oh, mercy! what was that?
+
+The three caught sight at once of an object so terrifying that Rita and
+Peggy both shrieked aloud, and turned to flee; but Margaret held them
+back.
+
+"Girls," she said, and her voice trembled a little, whether from
+laughter or fear; "wait! It--it can't be what it looks like, you know!
+It must--" She advanced cautiously a few steps, and began to laugh. It
+certainly had looked at first like the figure of a man hanging from the
+rafters; it proved to be only an innocent suit of clothes, dangling its
+legs in a helpless way, and holding out its arms stiffly, as if in
+salutation.
+
+Recovering from their fear, the girls advanced again, Peggy giggling
+nervously. "I thought it was him!" she whispered.
+
+"_He_, not _him_," was on Margaret's lips, but she kept the words back.
+She could not always be a schoolmistress; and then she scorned herself
+for moral cowardice.
+
+"Thought it was who, Peggy?" she asked. "Hugo Montfort?"
+
+"Ye--yes!" said Peggy.
+
+"But he did not hang himself, child! He wants to find his papers, that
+is all. Ah, here are the trunks; now for the wigs, girls!"
+
+The wig trunk proved a most delightful repository. The wigs were in neat
+boxes; many of them were of horsehair, but a few were of human hair,
+frizzed and tortured out of all softness or beauty. Dainty Margaret did
+not incline to put them on, but Peggy was soon glorious in a huge white
+structure, with a wreath of roses on the top, that made her look twice
+her height. "Ain't I fine?" she cried. "Here, Margaret, here is one for
+you."
+
+Margaret twirled the wig around, and examined it curiously. "What they
+all must have looked like!" she said. "This is a judge's wig, I think."
+
+"Then it can fit none but you, Señorita Perfecta!" cried Rita; but the
+sting was gone from her tone, and she had wholly forgotten her moment of
+spite. "Here! here is mine. Behold me, a gallant of the court! I
+advance, I bow--but my cloak, where is my cloak? Quick, Marguerite, the
+key of the other chest!"
+
+The other chest, a great black one, studded with brass nails, contained,
+as Mrs. Cheriton had said, any amount of material for the delightful
+pastime of dressing up. The gauzes were crumpled, to be sure, the gold
+lace tarnished, and the satins and brocades more or less spotted and
+decayed; but what of that? The splendours of the Family Chest were too
+solemn to sport with; here was material for hours and days of joy. Rita
+was soon arrayed in a scarlet military coat, a habit skirt of dark
+velvet, and a plumed hat which perched like a bird on top of her flowing
+wig. Peggy was put into a charming Watteau costume of flowered silk, in
+which she looked so pretty that Rita declared it was a shame for her
+ever to wear anything else; while Margaret found a long, gold-spotted
+gauze that took her fancy mightily. Thus attired, the three girls
+frisked and danced about the huge, dim old garret, astonishing the
+spiders, and sending the mice scuttling into their holes in terror. The
+seventeen years that sometimes weighed heavily on Margaret's slender
+shoulders, and that sat like a flame of pride on Rita's white forehead,
+seemed utterly forgotten; these were three merry children that ran to
+and fro, waking the echoes to mirth. Rita proposed a dance, and cried
+out in horror when Peggy confessed that she could not dance at all, and
+Margaret that she had had few lessons and no experience.
+
+[Illustration: IN THE GARRET.]
+
+"Poor victims!" cried the Cuban. "Slaves of Northern prejudice! I will
+teach you, my poors! Not to dance, not to understand the management of a
+fan--how are you to go through life, without equipment, I ask you?"
+
+She held out her arms with a gesture so tragic that Margaret could not
+help laughing.
+
+"Rita, forgive me!" she said. "I was trying to fancy my poor dear
+father giving me a lesson in the management of a fan. He was really my
+chief teacher, you know."
+
+"Yes, and who was there for me to dance with?" cried Peggy, holding out
+her gay flounces. "Brother Jim would be rather like a grizzly bear, I
+think, and none of the others would. Jean and I used to dance with each
+other, but it was just jumping up and down, for we didn't know anything
+else."
+
+Rita sighed, and felt the weight of empire on her shoulders. "You shall
+learn," she said again. "I will teach you. But not here, it is too dim
+and dusty. The courtesy, however, we can try. Mesdames! Raise the skirt,
+thus, the left foot in advance; the _left_, Peggy, child of despair! now
+bend the right knee, and slowly, slowly, sink thus, with grace and
+dignity. Oh, pity on me, what have you done now?"
+
+Poor Peggy had done her best, but when it came to sinking slowly and
+gracefully, it was too much for her. She stepped on her train, tripped,
+lost her balance, and fell heavily back against the wall. She clutched
+the wooden panel behind her, and felt it move under her fingers.
+
+"Oh, mercy!" she cried, "it's moving! The wall is moving! Margaret,
+catch hold of my hand!"
+
+Margaret caught her hand, and helped her to her feet. When she moved
+away from the wall, it was seen that the wooden panel had indeed moved.
+It had slid open a few inches, and blackness looked through at them.
+Peggy clutched her cousins and trembled. Where was now the courage, the
+coolness, which had made her the heroine of the morning's adventure?
+Gone! Anything in the ordinary course of nature, bogs and such matters,
+Peggy was mistress of, but black spaces, with possible white figures
+lurking in them, were out of her province.
+
+"Margaret," she whispered, "do you see? It is open!"
+
+"Yes, I see!" said Margaret. "What a delightfully mysterious thing,
+girls! A secret chamber, perhaps, or a staircase! It must be a
+staircase, for it is in the thickness of the wall behind the chimney. Do
+run and get a lamp, Peggy, like a good girl, and we will see. How damp
+and earthy it smells!"
+
+Peggy flew, only too glad to get away from the black, yawning hole. She
+was back in three minutes with the lamp, and the three cousins peered
+into the open space, Margaret holding the lamp high above her head, so
+that the light might penetrate as far as possible.
+
+It was indeed a staircase; a narrow, winding way, wide enough for one
+person, but no more. It plunged down like a black pit, and its end could
+not be seen.
+
+"But this is superb!" cried Margaret. "Shall we explore it, girls? I
+don't suppose there can be any objection, do you? It is probably never
+used."
+
+"By all means, let us explore!" said Rita. "But do you know what I am
+thinking, Marguerite?"
+
+"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.
+
+"Something practical and businesslike, rather, _très chère_. I am
+thinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, this
+is the finest house in the world. Come on!"
+
+Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could not
+bear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged down the
+narrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all her
+breezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happen
+to her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; now
+it had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror and
+excitement.
+
+Down--down--down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discoloured
+plaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Now
+they came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,--the
+brass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might be
+trenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, and
+Peggy pressed down behind her.
+
+They saw a room, like the other bedrooms in the house, large and airy.
+It was evidently ready for use, the bed neatly made, everything in
+spotless order. Brushes and shaving-tools lay on the dressing-bureau.
+The table was covered with books.
+
+"Uncle John's room!" whispered Margaret. "It must be, of course; and
+this is where the locked door is on the second story. Come along,
+girls; we ought not to go prying into people's rooms!"
+
+"My faith, I cannot see that!" retorted Rita. "If there were anything of
+interest in the room,--but nothing--a plain room, and nothing more! A
+pretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. But
+come, as you say; we have yet a way to go down."
+
+They closed the door carefully, and once more began the descent.
+Down--down--down. But this second half of the way was different. The
+staircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, it
+showed marks of usage. The steps above were covered with thick dust,
+evidently long undisturbed; but these were clean and shining. Decidedly,
+the mystery was deepening.
+
+"Suppose we find it is just a back way to the servants' rooms!"
+whispered practical Margaret.
+
+"Suppose feedle-dee-dee!" said Rita; and her funny little foreign accent
+on the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.
+
+Now they were evidently approaching the ground floor, for sounds were
+audible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if some
+one were moving fire-irons.
+
+"Elizabeth, probably!" whispered Margaret. "What shall we say to her?"
+
+"Let's yell and rush out and scare her!" proposed Peggy.
+
+"Hush!" said Rita. "Oh, hush! we know not who it is. Look! a gleam of
+light,--the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silent
+breath she blew out the lamp, and they were in total darkness.
+
+They now saw plainly the light that shone through the crack of a door, a
+few steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All was
+still for a moment; then suddenly Peggy made a false step in the dark,
+and stumbled; she uttered a smothered shriek, and then began to giggle.
+
+"Animal!" muttered Rita through her teeth. "Can you not be silent?"
+
+Peggy was now in front, and seeing that light came also through the
+keyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttered
+a dreadful shriek, and staggered back into Margaret's arms. "The man!"
+she cried; "the man in black velvet!"
+
+A chair was hastily pushed back in the room below; steps crossed the
+floor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the further
+end of the room was seen to close softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CUBA LIBRE.
+
+
+"But, Marguerite, when I tell you that I _know_!"
+
+"But, Rita, my dear, how _can_ you know?"
+
+"Look at me; listen to me! Have you your senses?"
+
+"Most of them, I hope."
+
+"Very well, then, attend! When stupid, stupid Peggy--I love her,
+observe; she is my sister, but we must admit that she is stupid,--truth,
+Marguerite, is the jewel of my soul--when she stumbled against the door,
+when she screamed, we heard sounds, did we not?"
+
+"We did!" Margaret admitted.
+
+"Sounds,--and what sounds? Not the broom of a servant, not the rustle of
+a dress,--no, we hear the step of a man! We enter, and a door closes at
+the further end of the room; click, a lock snaps! I rush to the window;
+a figure disappears around the corner of the house; I cannot see what
+it is, but I would swear it was no woman. I return,--we look about us at
+this room, which never have we seen before. A gentleman's room, as an
+infant could perceive. A private library, study, what you will,
+luxurious, enchanting. Books over which you sob with emotion,--or would
+sob, if your temperament permitted you expression; pictures that fill my
+soul with enchantment; a writing-table, and on it papers--heaps and
+mounds of papers! Am I right? do I exaggerate? Alps, Pyrenees of papers!
+You saw them?"
+
+"I didn't see anything higher than Mt. Washington," said Margaret
+soberly. "There were a good many, I confess."
+
+"They burst from drawers," pursued Rita, enjoying herself immensely;
+"they toppled like snow-drifts; they strewed the floor to a depth of--"
+
+"Oh, Rita, Rita! do rein your Pegasus in, or he will fly away
+altogether. There certainly were a great many papers, and they confirmed
+our poor little Peggy in her belief that the man she had seen was Hugo
+Montfort, making his ghostly search for the papers he lost. Whereas you
+think--"
+
+"Think! when I tell you that I _know_!"
+
+"You think," Margaret went on calmly, "that it was John Strong, the
+gardener. Well, and what if it was?"
+
+"What if it was? Marguerite, you are impossible; you have the
+intelligence of a babe new born. What! we find this man in his master's
+room, spying upon his private things, _romaging_--what is that
+word?--_romaging_ his papers, most likely making himself possessed of
+what he will, and you say, what of this? _Caramba_, I will tell you what
+of this it would be in Cuba! String him up to the wall and give him
+quick fifty lashes; that would be of it!"
+
+"Long Island is a good way from Cuba!" said Margaret. "I don't think we
+will try anything of that sort here, Rita. And when you come to think of
+it, my dear, we have been here a few weeks, and John Strong was here
+before we were born; Aunt Faith told me so. Don't you think he may
+perhaps know what he is about rather better than we do?"
+
+"Know what he is about!" Rita protested, with a shower of nods, that he
+knew very well what he was about. The question was, did their uncle
+know? And the black velvet coat, what had Margaret to say to that? she
+demanded. It was evident that this good man, this worthy servant, was in
+the habit of wearing his master's clothes during his absence. Did
+gardeners habitually appear in black velvet? Ha! tell her that!
+
+Margaret did not know that they did, but it was perfectly possible that
+Mr. Montfort might have given some of his old clothes, a cast-off
+smoking-jacket, for example, to his gardener and confidential servant.
+There would be nothing remarkable in that, surely. Besides, were they
+absolutely certain that the mysterious individual was dressed in black
+velvet? Poor, dear Peggy was in such a state of excitement, she might
+well have fancied--and so on, and so on. The two cousins went over the
+ground again and again, but could come to no decision.
+
+"Say what you will, _très chère_!" said Rita, finally; "glorify your
+gardener, give him the family wardrobe, the family papers; I keep watch
+on him, that is all! Let Master Strong beware! Not for nothing was I
+brought up on a plantation. Have I not known overseers, to say nothing
+of hosts of servants, white, black, yellow? Your books, _chère
+Marguerite_, do they teach you the knowledge of persons? Let him beware!
+he knows not a Cuban!" and she nodded, and bent her brows so tragically
+that Margaret could hardly keep her countenance.
+
+"Have you ever acted, Rita?" she asked, following the train of her
+thoughts. "I am sure you must do it so well."
+
+"_Mi alma!_" cried Rita, "it was my joy! Conchita and I--_ahi_! what
+plays we have acted in the myrtle-bower in the garden! Will you see me
+act? You shall."
+
+John Strong and his iniquities were forgotten in a moment. Bidding
+Margaret call Peggy, and make themselves into an audience in the lower
+hall, Rita whirled away to her own room, where they could hear her
+singing to herself, and pulling open drawers with reckless ardour. The
+two other girls ensconced themselves in a window-seat of the hall and
+waited.
+
+"Do you know what she is going to do?" asked Peggy.
+
+Margaret shook her head. "Something pretty and graceful, no doubt. She
+is a born actress, you know."
+
+"I never saw an actress," said Peggy. "She--she is awfully fascinating,
+Margaret, isn't she?"
+
+Margaret assented warmly. There was no tinge of jealousy in her
+composition, or she might have felt a slight pang at the tone of
+admiring awe in which Peggy now spoke of her Cuban cousin. Things were
+changed indeed since the night of their arrival.
+
+"It isn't only that she is so awfully pretty," Peggy went on, "but she
+moves so--and her voice is so soft, and--oh, Margaret, do you suppose I
+can ever be the least like her, just the least bit in the world?"
+
+She looked anxiously at Margaret, who gazed back affectionately at her,
+at the round, rosy childish face, the little tilted nose, the fluffy,
+fair hair. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to stroke and
+pat Peggy as if she were a kitten, but no one would think of patting
+Rita.
+
+"Dear," said Margaret softly, "dear Peggy! I like you better as you are.
+Of course Rita is very beautiful, and neither you nor I could ever look
+in the least like her, Peggy. But--it is a great deal better to look
+like our own selves, isn't it, and learn to appear at our best in a way
+that suits us? That is what I think. Now that you have learned to do
+your hair so nicely, and to keep your dress neat--"
+
+"You taught me that," said honest Peggy; "you taught me all that,
+Margaret. I was a perfect pig when I came here; you know I was."
+
+"Don't call my cousin names, miss! I cannot permit it. But if I have
+taught you anything, Peggy, it is Rita who has given you the little
+graces that you have been picking up. I never could have taught you to
+bow,--and really, you are quite superb since the last lesson. Then,
+these pretty dresses--"
+
+"Oh, _do_ you think I ought to take them?" broke in Peggy. "Margaret, do
+you think so? She brought them into my room, you know, and flung them
+down in a heap, and said they were only fit for dust-cloths--you know
+the way she talks, dear thing. The lovely brown crepon, she said it was
+the most hideous thing she had ever seen, and that it was the deed of
+an assassin to offer it to me. And when I said I couldn't take so many,
+she snatched up the scissors, and was going to cut them all up--she
+really was, Margaret. What could I do?"
+
+"Nothing, dear child, except take them, I really think. It was a real
+pleasure to Rita to give them to you, I am sure, and she could not
+possibly wear a quarter of all the gowns she brought here. But see, here
+comes our bird of paradise herself. Now we shall see something lovely!"
+
+Rita came down the stairs, singing a little Spanish song. Her dress of
+black gauze fluttered in wide breezy folds, a gauze scarf floated from
+her shoulders; she was indeed a vision of beauty, and the two cousins
+gazed at her with delight. Advancing into the middle of the hall, she
+swept a splendid courtesy, and suddenly unfurled a huge scarlet fan.
+With this, she proceeded to go through a series of astonishing
+performances. She danced with it, she sang with it. She closed it, and
+it was a dagger, and she swooped upon an invisible enemy, and stabbed
+him to the heart; she flung it open, and it became the messenger of
+love, over which her black eyes gleamed and glowed in irresistible
+coquetry. All the time she kept up a dramatic chant, sometimes sinking
+almost to a whisper, again rising to a shriek of joy or passion.
+Suddenly she stopped.
+
+"All this is play!" she said, turning to her rapt audience.
+
+"Now you shall see the real thing: you shall see _Cuba libre_. But for
+this I must have another person; it is impossible to do it alone.
+Margaret,--no! Peggy can better do this! Peggy, come, and you shall be
+Spain, the tyrant."
+
+Peggy looked as if she would much rather be aspiring Cuba, but she came
+forward obediently, and was bidden to put herself in an attitude of
+insolent defiance. Peggy scowled and doubled up her fists, thinking of a
+picture of a prizefighter that she had once seen.
+
+"_Ahi!_" cried Rita, springing upon her. "Not thus! you have the air of
+a cross child. Thus, do you see? Fold the arms upon the chest, abase the
+head, bring the eyebrows down till you have to look through them! So!
+that is better! Now gnaw your under lip, and draw in your breath with a
+hiss, thus!" and Rita herself uttered a hiss so malignant that poor
+Peggy started back in affright. "But be still!" cried Rita, "you are now
+perfect. You are an object--is she not, Marguerite?--to turn cold the
+blood." Margaret did not commit herself, being wholly occupied in
+keeping back the smiles that Peggy's aspect called forth. She certainly
+was an object, poor dear child, but Rita was so absorbed in her play
+that she saw nothing absurd even in a tyrant scowling through flaxen
+eyebrows with a pair of helpless, frightened blue eyes. She now drew
+back, knelt, flung up her arms, and raised her eyes to heaven. Her lips
+moved; she was praying for the success of her cause. Rising, she came
+forward, and with noble earnestness demanded her freedom. The tyrant was
+bidden to look about on the ruin and desolation that he had wrought; he
+was implored by all that was holy, all that was just and noble, to
+withdraw from the land where he had long ceased to have any real right
+of ownership. Peggy, in obedience to whispered orders, shook her head
+with stubborn violence, and stamped her foot. Cuba then, drawing herself
+to her full height, threw down her gage of defiance (a tiny
+pearl-covered glove) and declared war to extermination. The banner of
+freedom (the fan) was unfurled and waved on high, the national song was
+chanted, and the war began. Spain, the tyrant, now had a hard time of
+it. She was pounced upon from one side, then from another; she was
+surrounded, hustled this way and that; the fan was fluttered wide in her
+face, poked sharply between her ribs. A single straightforward blow from
+her strong young arm would have laid the slender Cuba at her feet, but
+she could strike no blow. She was only to hiss, and clutch the air in
+impotent fury, and when she did this, Margaret had such an
+uncontrollable fit of coughing that it almost produced an armistice.
+
+[Illustration: "CUBA LIBRE."]
+
+Now Spain was told that she was growing weak, a decrepit, bleeding old
+woman. Her fate was upon her; let her die!
+
+Obeying the imperious gesture, Peggy sank on her knees, and had the
+satisfaction of hearing that "the old serpent died bravely." The fan did
+more and more dreadful execution, and now she lay gasping, dying, on the
+floor. Standing above her was a triumphant young goddess, waving the
+flag of _Cuba libre_, and declaring, with her foot on the neck of the
+prostrate tyrant, that despotism was dead, and that Freedom was
+descending from heaven, robed in the Cuban colours, and surrounded by a
+choir of angels, all singing the national anthem. And here Rita actually
+pulled from her bosom a small flag showing the Cuban colours, and waved
+it, crying that the blood-red banner of war (the fan) was now furled
+forever, and that Cuba and the United States, now twin sisters, would
+proceed to rule the world after the most approved methods. This ended
+the scene, and the two actors stood before Margaret, one very red and
+sheepish, the other glowing like flame with pride and enthusiasm,
+awaiting her plaudits. Margaret clapped and shouted as loud as she
+could, and expressed her admiration warmly enough; but Rita shook her
+head and sighed.
+
+"Ah, for an audience!" she cried. "To pour out one's heart, to live the
+life of one's country, and have but one to see it,--it is sad, it is
+tragic. Do I exaggerate, Marguerite?--it is death-dealing!" Then she
+praised Peggy, and told her that she had made a magnificent tyrant, and
+had died as game as possible. "Ah!" she said. "What it would be if you
+could only do something real for Cuba! I would shed my blood, would pour
+out its ultimate drops (Rita's idioms were apt to become foreign when
+she was excited), but if you also could do something, my cousins, what
+glory, what joy for you; and it may be possible. No, hush! not a word!
+At present, I breathe not a whisper, I am the grave. But there may come
+a day, an hour, when I shall call to you with the voice of a trumpet;
+and you,--you will awaken, halves of my heart; you will spring to my
+side, you will--Marguerite, you are laughing! At what, I ask you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, dear," said Margaret. "I was only thinking that a
+trumpet might really be needed, since a bell is not loud enough. The
+dinner-bell rang five minutes ago, and Elizabeth has come to see what we
+are about."
+
+But at sight of Elizabeth, standing demurely in the doorway, _Cuba
+libre_ vanished, and there remained only a very pretty young lady in
+the sulks, who had to be coaxed for five minutes more before she would
+come to her dinner.
+
+"Am I seventeen, or thirty-seven?" thought Margaret, as she finally led
+the way to the dining-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+DAY BY DAY.
+
+
+    "Oh! what a mystery
+    The study is of history!"
+
+For some time things continued to go smoothly and pleasantly at Fernley.
+The days slipped away, with nothing special to mark any one, but all
+bright with flowers and gay with laughter. The three girls were
+excellent friends, and grew to understand each other better and better.
+The morning belonged rather to Margaret and Peggy; Rita was always late,
+and often preferred to have her breakfast brought to her room, a
+practice of which the other girls disapproved highly. They were always
+out in the garden by half past eight, with breakfast a thing of the
+past, and the day before them. The stocking-basket generally came with
+them, and waited patiently in a corner of the green summer-house while
+they took their "constitutional," which often consisted of a run through
+the waving fields, or a walk along the top of the broad stone wall that
+ran around the garden; or again, a tree-top excursion, as they called
+it, in the great swing under the chestnut-trees. Then, while they mended
+their stockings, Margaret would give Peggy a "talk-lesson," the only
+kind that she was willing to receive, on English history, with an
+occasional digression to the Trojan war, or the Norse mythology, as the
+case might be. Peggy detested history, and knew next to nothing of it,
+and this was a grievous thing to Margaret.
+
+    "First William the Norman,
+      Then William his son;
+    Henry, Stephen and Henry,
+      Then Richard and John,"
+
+had been one of her own nursery rhymes, and she could not understand any
+one's not thrilling responsive when the great names were spoken that
+filled her with awe and joy, or with burning resentment.
+
+"But, my dear," she would cry, when Peggy yawned at Canute, and said he
+was an old stupid, "my dear, think of the place he holds! think of the
+things he did!"
+
+"Well, he's dead!" Peggy would reply; "I don't see what good it does to
+bother about him now. Who cares what he did, all that time ago?"
+
+"But," Margaret explained patiently, "if he had not done the things,
+Peggy, don't you see, everything would have been different. We must
+know, mustn't we, how it all came about that our life is what it is now?
+We must see what we came from, and who the men were that made the
+changes, and brought us on and up."
+
+"I don't see why!" said Peggy; "I don't see what difference it makes to
+me that Alfred played the harp. I don't want to play the harp, and I
+never saw any one who did. It is rather fun about the cakes, but he was
+awfully stupid to let them burn, seems to me."
+
+Not a thrill could Margaret awaken by any recital of the sorrows and
+sufferings of the Boy Kings, or even of her favourite Prince Arthur.
+When her voice broke in the recital of his piteous tale, Peggy would
+look up at her coolly and say, "How horrid of them! But he would have
+been dead by this time anyway, Margaret; why do you care so much?"
+
+Still Margaret persevered, never losing hope, simply because she could
+not believe that the subject itself could fail to interest any one in
+his senses. It was her own fault a good deal, she tried to think; she
+did not tell the story right, or her voice was too monotonous,--Papa was
+always telling her to put more colour into her reading,--or something.
+The history itself could not be at fault.
+
+"And, Peggy dear; don't think I want to be lecturing you all the time,
+but--these are things that one _has_ to know something about, or one
+will appear uneducated, and you don't want to do that."
+
+"I don't care. I don't see the use of this kind of education, Margaret,
+and that is just the truth. Ma never had any of what you call
+education,--she was a farmer's daughter, you know, and had always lived
+on the prairie,--and she has always got on well enough. Hugh talks just
+like you do--"
+
+"Please, dear, _as_ you do, not _like_."
+
+"Well, _as_ you do, then. He talks William the Conqueror and all those
+old fuddy-duddies by the yard, but he can't make me see the use of
+them, and you can't. Now if you would give me some mathematics; _that_
+is what I want. If you would give me some solid geometry, Margaret!"
+
+But here poor Margaret hung her head and blushed, and confessed that she
+had no solid geometry to give. Her geometry had been fluid, or rather,
+vapourous, and had floated away, unthought of and unregretted.
+
+"I am sorry and ashamed," she said. "Of course I ought to be able to
+teach it, and if I go into a school, of course I shall have to study
+again and make it up, so that I can. But it never can be possible that
+triangles should be as interesting as human beings, Peggy."
+
+"A great deal more interesting," Peggy maintained, "when the human
+beings are dead and buried hundreds of years."
+
+"One word more, and I have done," said poor Margaret. "You used an
+expression, dear,--old fuddy-duddies, was it? I never heard it before.
+Do you think it is an elegant expression, Peggy dear?"
+
+"It's as good as I am girl!" said Peggy; and Margaret shut her eyes, and
+felt despair in her heart. But soon she felt a warm kiss on her
+forehead, and Peggy was promising to be good, and to try harder, and
+even to do her best to learn the difference between the two
+Harolds,--Hardrada and Godwinsson.
+
+And if she would promise to do that, might she just climb up now and see
+what that nest was, out on the fork there?
+
+Perhaps Rita would come down soon, with her guitar or her
+embroidery-frame; and they would sing and chatter till the early dinner.
+Rita's songs were all of love and war, boleros and bull-fights. She sang
+them with flashing ardour, and the other girls heard with breathless
+delight, watching the play of colour and feeling, that made her face a
+living transcript of what she sang. But when she was tired, she would
+hand the guitar to Margaret, and beg her to sing "something cool,
+peaceful, sea-green, like yourself, Marguerite!"
+
+"Am I sea-green?" asked Margaret.
+
+"Ah! cherub! you understand me! My blood is in a fever with these songs
+of Cuba. I want coolness, icy caves, pine-trees in the wind!"
+
+So Margaret would take the guitar, and sing in her calm, smooth
+contralto the songs her father used to love: songs of the North, that
+had indeed the sound of the sea and the wind in them.
+
+    "It was all for our rightful king
+      That we left fair Scotland's strand.
+    It was all for our rightful king,
+      We ever saw Irish land,
+         My dear,
+      We ever saw Irish land!"
+
+The plaintive melody rose and fell like the waves on the shore; and Rita
+would curl herself like a panther in the sun, and murmur with pleasure,
+and call for more. Then, perhaps, Margaret would sing that lovely ballad
+of Hogg's, which begins,
+
+    "Far down by yon hills of the heather sae green,
+      And down by the corrie that sings to the sea,
+    The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane,
+      The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e.
+
+    "She looked on a boat with the breezes that swung
+      Afar on the wave, like a bird on the main,
+    And aye as it lessened, she sighed and she sung,
+      'Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!'"
+
+But Rita had no patience with Flora McDonald.
+
+"Why did she not go with him?" she asked, when Margaret, after the song
+was over, told the brave story of Prince Charlie's escape after
+Culloden, and of how the noble girl, at the risk of her own life, led
+the prince, disguised as her waiting-woman, through many weary ways,
+till they reached the seashore where the vessel was waiting to take him
+to France.
+
+"He could not speak!" said Margaret. "He just took her hand, and stood
+looking at her; but she could hardly see him for her tears. Then he took
+off his cap, and stooped down and kissed her twice on the forehead; and
+so he went. But after he was in the boat, he turned again, and said to
+her:
+
+"'After all that has happened, I still hope, madam, we shall meet in St.
+James's yet!' But of course they never did."
+
+"But why did she not go with him?" demanded Rita. "She had spirit, it
+appears. Why did she let him go without her?"
+
+Margaret gazed at her wide-eyed.
+
+"He was going into exile," she said. "She had done all she could, she
+had saved his life; there was nothing more to be done."
+
+"But--that she should leave him! Did she not love him? was he
+faithless?"
+
+Margaret blushed, and drew herself up unconsciously. "You do not
+understand, Rita," she said gravely. "This was her prince, the son of
+her sovereign; she was a simple Scottish gentlewoman. When he was flying
+for his life, she was able to befriend him, and to save his life at
+peril of her own; but when that was over, there was no more need of her,
+and she went back to her home. What should she have done in France, at
+the king's court?"
+
+"Even if so," muttered Rita, with the well-known shrug of her shoulders,
+"I would have gone, if it had been I. He should not have thrown me off
+like that."
+
+Margaret raised her eyes, full of angry light, and opened her lips to
+speak; but instead kept silence for a moment. Then, "You do not
+understand," she said again, but gently; "my mother was a Scotchwoman,
+so I feel differently, of course. It is no matter, but I will tell you
+this about Miss McDonald: that when she died, years after, an old woman
+of seventy, she was buried in the sheet that had covered Prince Charles
+Stuart, that night after Culloden."
+
+"My!" said Peggy, "it must have been awfully yellow!"
+
+After dinner it was Rita's custom to take a siesta. She declared that
+she required more sleep than most people, and that without eleven hours'
+repose she should perish. So while she slept, Margaret and Peggy
+arranged flowers, or Peggy would write home, with many sighs of
+weariness and distress, while Margaret, sitting near her, snatched a
+half-hour for some enchanting book. It sometimes seemed to her more than
+she could bear, to be among so many fine books, and to have almost no
+time to read. At home, several hours were spent in reading, as a matter
+of course; often and often, the long, happy evening would pass without a
+word exchanged between her father and herself. Only, when either looked
+up from the book, there was always the meeting glance of love and
+sympathy, which made the printed page shine golden when the eyes
+returned to it. Here, reading was considered a singular waste of time.
+Rita read herself to sleep with a novel, but Peggy was entirely frank in
+her confession that she should not care if she never saw a book again.
+Even the home letters were a grievous task to her, for she never could
+think of anything to say. Margaret, deep in the precious pages of
+Froissart, it might be, would be roused by a portentous sigh, and
+looking up, would find Peggy champing the penhandle, and gazing at her
+with lack-lustre eyes.
+
+"What's the matter now, Peg of Limavaddy?"
+
+"I can't--think--of a single thing to say."
+
+"Child! I thought you had so much to tell them this time. Think of that
+lovely drive we took yesterday; I thought you were going to tell about
+that. Don't you remember the sunset from the top of the long hill, and
+how we made believe the clouds were our fairy castles, and each said
+what she would do when she got there? Rita was going to organise a
+Sunset Dance, with ten thousand fairies in crimson and gold, and you
+were going to be met by a hundred thoroughbred horses, all white as
+snow, and were going to drive them abreast in a golden chariot; don't
+you remember all that? Tell them about the drive!"
+
+"I have told them," said Peggy gloomily. "I couldn't put in all that,
+Margaret; it would take all day, and besides, Ma would think I was
+crazy."
+
+"Do you mind my seeing what you wrote?--oh, Peggy!"
+
+For Peggy had written this: "We had an elagant ride yesterday."
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Peggy. "Isn't it spelled right?"
+
+"Oh, that isn't it!" said Margaret. "At least, that is the smallest
+part. 'Elegant' has two _e_'s, not two _a_'s. But,--Peggy dear, you
+surely would not speak of a _drive_ as _elegant_!"
+
+"Why not? I said ride, not drive, but I don't see any difference. It
+_was_ elegant; you said so yourself. I don't understand what you mean,
+Margaret." And Peggy looked injured, and began to hunch her shoulders
+and put out her under lip; but for once Margaret, wounded in a tender
+part, took no heed of the signs of coming trouble.
+
+[Illustration: PEGGY WRITES HOME.]
+
+"_I_ say so? Never!" she cried indignantly. "I hope I--that is, I--I
+don't think the word can be used in that way, Peggy; I do not, indeed.
+You speak of an elegant dress, or an elegant woman, but _not_ of an
+elegant drive or an elegant sunset. The word implies something refined,
+something--"
+
+"Oh, bother!" said Peggy rudely. "I didn't come here to school, Margaret
+Montfort!"
+
+"I sometimes wonder if you ever went anywhere to school!" said Margaret;
+and she took her book and went away without another word, her heart
+beating high with anger and impatience.
+
+Such affairs were short-lived, however. Margaret had too much sense and
+good feeling, Peggy too much affection, to let them last. The kiss and
+the kind word were not long in following, and it was to be noticed that
+Rita was never allowed to find out that her two Northern cousins ever
+disagreed by so much as a word. There was some unspoken bond that bade
+them both make common cause before the foreign cousin whom both loved
+and admired. So when Rita made her appearance beautifully dressed for
+the afternoon drive or walk (for they could not have the good white
+horse every day,--a fact which made the señorita chafe and rage against
+John Strong more than ever), she always found smiling faces to welcome
+her, and the three would go off together in high spirits, to explore
+some new and lovely part of the country.
+
+Peggy was always the driver. On their first drive John Strong had gone
+with them, to the intense disgust of Rita, and the indignation of Peggy,
+who, though she was very fond of the grave factotum, resented the doubt
+he implied of her skill. It was a silent drive, Margaret alone
+responding to the remarks of their conductor, as he pointed out this or
+that beautiful view. He never went with them again, but having first
+tested Peggy's powers by a _tête-à-tête_ drive with her, cheerfully
+resigned the reins, and used to watch their departure with calm
+approval.
+
+"The little one makes much the best figure on the box!" John Strong
+would say to himself. "If life were all driving, now--but--
+
+    "Weel I ken my ain lassie;
+    Kind love is in her e'e!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+LOOKING BACKWARD.
+
+
+But in the twilight came Margaret's hour of comfort. Then Peggy had her
+dancing-lesson from Rita, and while the two were whirling and stumping
+about the hall, she would steal away through the little door and down
+the three steps to the white rooms, where peace and quiet, gentle words
+and kind affection were always awaiting her. Aunt Faith always
+understood the little troubles, and had the right word to say, of
+sympathy or counsel. The two had grown very near to each other.
+
+"How is it," Margaret asked one evening, "I seem so much nearer your
+age, Aunt Faith, than the girls'? Do you suppose I really belong to your
+generation, and got left behind by accident?"
+
+Aunt Faith laughed. "My dear, you ought to have had half a dozen
+brothers and sisters!" she said. "An only child grows up too fast,
+especially where, as in your case, the companionship with father or
+mother is close and intimate. No doubt your dear father did his best to
+grow down to your age, when you were little; but he did not succeed, I
+fear, so you had to grow up to his. Was not that the way?"
+
+Margaret nodded thoughtfully. "I remember his playing horse with me!"
+she said. "Poor dear Papa! I asked him to play, and he said in his deep,
+slow way, 'Surely! surely! the child must have play. Play is necessary
+for development.' And then he sat and looked at me, with his Greek book
+in his hand, as if I were a word that he could not find the meaning of.
+Oh! I remember it so well, though I must have been a little tot. Then he
+got up and said, 'I will be a horse, Margaret! Consider me a horse!' and
+he gave me the tassels of his dressing-gown, and began to amble about
+the room slowly, among the piles of books. Oh, dear! I can see him now,
+dear Papa! He made a _very_ slow horse, Aunt Faith, and I felt, in a
+baby way, that there was something awful about it, and that he was not
+meant to play. I think I must have dropped the tassels pretty soon, for
+he came to a great book lying open on a chair, and forgot everything
+else, and stood there for an hour reading it. I never asked him to play
+again, but we used to laugh over it when we were big--I mean when I was
+big, and had grown up to him a little bit."
+
+Mrs. Cheriton laid her hand on the girl's head, and smoothed her hair
+tenderly.
+
+"You must have been lonely sometimes, dear?" she said.
+
+"Oh, no; never, I think. You see, I learned so many things that I could
+play by myself, and it never troubled Papa to have me in the room where
+he was writing; I think he rather liked it. I had the waste-paper
+basket; that was one of my chief delights. I might do what I wanted with
+the papers, if I only put them back. So I carpeted the room with them,
+and I laid out streets and squares, and had the pamphlets for walls and
+houses. Or I was a queen, with a great correspondence, and all the
+letters were brought to me by pages in green and gold, and when I read
+them (this was before I could really read, of course), they were all
+from my baby sister, and they told of all the lovely things she was
+seeing, and the wonderful countries she and Mamma were travelling in.
+Aunt Faith, I never see a waste-paper basket now, without feeling as if
+there must be a letter for me in it."
+
+"Was there really a baby sister, dear?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes! she died with Mamma, only a few days after her
+birth,--little Penelope! It seems such a great name for a tiny baby,
+doesn't it, Aunt Faith? But it is a family name, Papa told me."
+
+"Yes, indeed, many of the Montforts have been named Penelope. You
+remember the poor Aunt Penelope I told you about, who made the unhappy
+marriage; and there were many others."
+
+"Oh, that reminds me!" said Margaret. "Aunt Faith, you promised to tell
+me some day about Aunt Phoebe. Don't you remember? We were speaking of
+these white rooms, and you said it was a fancy of Uncle John's to have
+them so, and you thought he remembered his Great-aunt Phoebe; and then
+you said you would tell me some time, and this is some time, isn't it,
+Auntie dear?"
+
+"I cannot deny that, Margaret, certainly. And I don't know why this is
+not a very good time; the twilight is soft and dusky, and Aunt Phoebe's
+story ought not to be told in broad daylight."
+
+She was silent a moment, as if looking back into the past. "It is the
+sequel, rather than the story itself, that is singular," she said. "The
+first part is like only too many other stories, alas! Your Great-aunt
+Phoebe--your Great-great-aunt, I should say--was betrothed to a brave
+young officer, Lieutenant Hetherington. It was just at the breaking out
+of the War of 1812, and the engagement was made just as he was going
+into active service. She was a beautiful girl, with large dark eyes, and
+superb fair hair,--none of you three girls have this combination, but it
+is not uncommon among the Montforts; I myself had fair hair and dark
+eyes. Phoebe was highly romantic, and when her lover went to war, she
+gave him a sword-belt plaited of her own hair."
+
+"Oh," cried Margaret, "like Sir Percival's sister!"
+
+"Exactly! Very likely it was from that story that she took the idea,
+for she was a great reader. However it might be, her mother was greatly
+distressed at her cutting off so much of her fine hair, and did her best
+to prevent it, but to no purpose, as you may imagine. Giles Hetherington
+joined the army, carrying the braided belt with him, and they say he
+never parted with it, night or day, but slept with it beside him on the
+pillow. Poor fellow! He was killed in a night attack by the Indians, set
+on by the British. He was in a hut with some other officers, and the
+sentry must have slept at his post, they supposed. They were surrounded,
+the house set on fire, and the officers all killed. One private escaped
+to tell the dreadful story, and he told of the gallant fight they made,
+and how Giles Hetherington fought for the life that was so dear to
+others. He defended the door while two of his comrades forced the window
+open, hoping to steal around and take the savages in the rear; but the
+window was watched, too, and these officers were shot down, and then an
+Indian sprang in at the window, and stabbed Hetherington in the back.
+Ah, me! It is a terrible story, dear child! He staggered back to the
+bed, the soldier said, and caught up the belt, that was lying there
+while he slept. He was past speech, but he gave it to this soldier, who
+was a lad from this place, and motioned him to the window; then he fell
+back dead, and the man crept out of the window,--the Indians having run
+around to the front,--and crawled off, lying flat in the grass, and so
+escaped with his life. He brought the belt, all dabbled with blood, back
+to Fernley, meaning to give it to Madam Montfort quietly, that she might
+break the news to her daughter, but poor Phoebe chanced to come through
+the garden just as he was standing on the steps with the belt in his
+hand, and she saw it."
+
+"Oh! oh, dear!" cried Margaret, clasping her hands. "Aunt Faith, it is
+too dreadful! How could she bear it?"
+
+"My dear, she could not bear it. She had not the strength. She did not
+lose her mind, like poor Aunt Penelope, but really, it might almost have
+been as well if she had, poor soul. When she woke from the long swoon
+into which she had fallen at sight of the belt, she heard all the story
+through without a word, and then she came here, and left the world."
+
+"Came here?" repeated Margaret.
+
+"Here, to these rooms; but what different rooms! She sent for a painter,
+and had the walls painted black. She had everything with an atom of
+colour in it taken away; and in these black rooms she lived, and in them
+she died. She wept so much--partly that, and partly the want of
+light--that her eyes became abnormally sensitive, and she could not bear
+even to see anything white. As time went on--Margaret, you will hardly
+believe this, but it is literally true--she would not even have white
+china on her table. She declared it hurt her eyes. So her father, who
+could refuse her nothing, sent for a set of dark brown china, and she
+ate brown bread on it,--would not look at white bread,--and was served
+by a mulatto woman, an old nurse who had been in the family from her
+childhood."
+
+"Aunt Faith, can it be--you say it really is true! but--how could they
+let her? Why did they not have an oculist?"
+
+"My dear child, oculists did not exist in those days. If she were living
+to-day, it would be pronounced a case of nervous exhaustion, and she
+would be taken for a sea voyage, or sent to a rest-cure, or treated in
+one of the hundred different ways that we know of nowadays. But then,
+nobody knew what to do for her, poor lady. To be 'crossed in love,' as
+it was called, was a thing that admitted of no cure, unless the patient
+were willing to be cured. People spoke of Phoebe Montfort under their
+breath, and called her 'a blight,' meaning a person whose life has been
+blighted. The world has gone on a good deal in the two generations since
+then, my dear Margaret."
+
+"I should think so," said Margaret; "poor soul! And did she have to live
+very long, Aunt Faith? I hope not!"
+
+"A good many years, my dear. She must have been an elderly woman when
+she died; not old, as I count age, but perhaps seventy-five, or
+thereabouts. I lived far away at that time, but John Montfort has often
+told me of the time of her death. He was a little lad, and he regarded
+the Black Rooms and their tenant with the utmost terror. He used to run
+past the door, he says, for fear the Black Aunt should come out and
+seize him, and take him into her dreary dwelling. Poor Aunt Phoebe was
+the mildest creature in the world, and would not have hurt a fly, but to
+him she was something awful,--out of nature. He was taken in to see her
+once or twice a year, and he always had nightmare after it, being a
+nervous child. Well, one day he was running through the Green Parlour
+here, and looking back at the windows of the Black Rooms, as he never
+could help doing; and he saw Rosalie, the coloured woman, come to the
+window and throw it wide open, letting in the full light of day. Then
+she went to the next, and so on; and the child knew what had happened
+before she spoke. I remember her words:
+
+"'She's gone, honey! Her sperit's gone. It went out'n dis window,
+straight by whar you's standin', and into the cedar bush. De Lord hab
+mercy!'
+
+"And poor little John took to his heels, and ran, and never stopped
+running till he was in his own bed upstairs.
+
+"That is the story, Margaret; but I ought to add that the belt of hair
+was laid in the grave with her, at her special request."
+
+"What a sad, sad story! Poor soul! Poor, forlorn, tortured soul! How
+glad she must have been to go! Aunt Faith--"
+
+"Yes, dear Margaret!"
+
+"Oh, nothing,--only--it seems dreadful sometimes, to feel that terrible
+things may be coming, coming toward one, and that one never can look
+forward, never know when they may come! I sometimes think, if I could
+see a year ahead, or even a week,--but one never knows. I suppose it is
+best, or it would not be!"
+
+"Assuredly, dear child! When you think a little more, you will see the
+wisdom and the mercy of it. How could we go steadfastly along our path
+of every day, if some day we saw a pit at the farther end? Life would be
+impossible, Margaret."
+
+"Yes, I--I suppose so!" said Margaret thoughtfully.
+
+"And all the time," Mrs. Cheriton went on, "all the time, during the
+clear, calm days and years, my child, we are, or we ought to be, laying
+by, as it were; storing up light and strength and happiness for the dark
+days when we may so deeply need them. Think a moment! Think of all the
+happy days and years with your father! They are blessed memories, are
+they not, Margaret? every day is like a jewel that you take out and look
+at, and then put back in its case; you never lose these precious things
+that are all your own!"
+
+"Oh, never! oh, how well you know, Aunt Faith! how you must have felt it
+all!" The girl raised her head, and saw the face of the aged woman
+transfigured with light and beauty. She also was looking back through
+the years,--who could tell how long!
+
+"But suppose,"--it was still she who spoke,--"suppose now, Margaret,
+that these memories were other than they are! Suppose that instead of
+the blessed golden days, you had days of storm and anger and
+disagreement to look back on; that there had been unkindness on one
+side, unfaithfulness on the other; suppose it had been with you and your
+father as it has been with some parents and children that I have
+known,--how then?"
+
+"Oh!" murmured Margaret, her eyes filling with tears, that yet had no
+bitterness in them; "but it could not have been so, Aunt Faith. Papa
+was an angel, you know; an angel of goodness and love."
+
+"Now you see what I mean by storing up light against the dark days,"
+said Mrs. Cheriton. "If he had not been loving and good,--and if you,
+too, had not been a good and dear daughter,--think what your possessions
+would be to-day. As it is, you have what can never be taken from you;
+and so if we go on steadfastly, as I said, content not to see before us,
+but cherishing and making the best of what we have to-day, the best of
+what to-day holds will be ours forever, till death comes to end all the
+partings and all the sorrow."
+
+The last words were spoken rather to herself than to Margaret. The
+latter sat still, not daring to speak; for it seemed as if some
+beautiful vision were passing before the eyes of the old woman. She sat
+looking a little upward, with her lips slightly parted, the breath
+coming and going so softly that one could not perceive it, her hands
+clasped in her lap. Now the lips moved, and Margaret heard the low words
+of a prayer, rather breathed than whispered. Another moment, and the
+brown eyes grew bright and smiling once more, and the kindly gaze fell
+on the girl, who sat awestruck, half afraid to breathe.
+
+"My poor Margaret!" said Mrs. Cheriton quickly. "My poor little girl, I
+have frightened you. Dear, when one is so old as I am the veil seems
+very thin, and I often look half through it and feel the air from the
+other side. But you--you must not stay here too long, you must not be
+saddened by an old woman's moods. You love to stay, and I love to have
+you, but it must not be too long. I will just tell you about the change
+in the rooms, and then--well, the Black Rooms remained shut up for many,
+many years after Aunt Phoebe's death. Indeed, I fancy they were never
+used until after your grandfather's death, when the property was
+divided, and your Uncle John took Fernley as his share. Then one of the
+first things he did was to throw open these rooms, send for a painter,
+and have them painted white from floor to ceiling, as you see. He had no
+use for them at that time, but he has told me that he did not like to be
+in the same house with anything black. Everything burnable was
+burned,--for your grandfather, as long as he lived, kept Aunt Phoebe's
+belongings just as she left them,--the brown crockery was smashed--"
+
+"Oh, that was a pity!" cried Margaret. "Just for the curiosity--"
+
+"I have a piece, my dear!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "Elizabeth Wilson--good
+Elizabeth--saved a piece for me; and she kept one of the black silk
+gowns (she has been in the house ever since she was a child), to put in
+the family chest. So there, Margaret, you have the story of Aunt Phoebe
+from beginning to end. And now you must go out and play."
+
+"Oh, just a moment!" pleaded Margaret. "Aunt Faith,--Uncle John must be
+_very_ nice."
+
+"My dear, he is the best man in the world. There is not a doubt about
+it."
+
+"Shall we see him at all, Aunt Faith?"
+
+"You shall see him. I cannot say exactly when, but you shall see him,
+Margaret; that I promise you on the word of a centenarian. Now will you
+go, or shall Janet--"
+
+"Oh, I will go! I will go! Good-bye, dear Aunt Faith. I have had the
+most delightful hour," and Janet came and closed the white door softly
+after her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HEROES AND HEROINES.
+
+
+    "Oh for a knight like Bayard,
+    Without reproach or fear!"
+
+"How to support life on such a day as this?" demanded Rita, coming out
+of her room, and confronting her cousins as they came upstairs. She had
+been asleep, and her dark eyes were still misty and vague. The others,
+on the contrary, had been running in the rain, and they were all
+a-tingle with life and fresh air, and a-twinkle with rain-drops. The
+moment was not a good one, and Rita's straight brows drew together
+ominously.
+
+"You have been--amusing yourselves, it appears," she said, in the old
+withering tone that they were learning to forget. "Of course, here
+nothing matters; one may as well be a savage as an _élégante_ in the
+wilderness; but I should be sorry to meet you in Havana, my cousins!"
+
+Peggy hung her head, and tried to keep her muddy feet out of sight.
+Margaret only laughed, and held up her petticoats higher.
+
+"You ought to have been with us, Rita!" she said. "We have had great
+fun. The garden is one great shower-bath, and the brook is roaring like
+a baby lion. I am really beginning to learn how to walk in wet feet, am
+I not, Peggy? I used to think I should die if my feet were wet. It is
+really delightful to feel the water go 'plop!' in and out of one's
+boots. Now, my dear," she added, "I really cannot let you be cross,
+because Peggy and I are in the most delightful good humour, and we came
+in on purpose, because we thought you would be awake, and would want to
+be amused. If you frown, Rita, I shall kiss you, all dripping wet, and
+you know you could not bear that."
+
+She advanced, holding up her rosy, shining face, down which the drops
+were still streaming. Rita uttered a shriek and vanished.
+
+"I don't see how you can talk to her that way," said Peggy admiringly.
+"When she opens her eyes at me, and pulls her eyebrows together, I feel
+about two inches high and three years old. You are brave in your own
+way, Margaret, if you can't pull people out of bogs."
+
+Margaret laughed again. "My dear, I found it was the only way," she
+said. "If I let her ride over me--" Here she stopped suddenly, and with
+a change of tone bade Peggy hasten to change her wet clothes. "It is all
+very fine to get wet," she said, "and I am grateful for the lesson,
+Peggy; but I know that one _must_ change when she comes in."
+
+Peggy made a grimace, and said that at home she was often wet through
+from morning till night, and nobody cared; but Margaret resolutely
+pushed her into her room and shut the door, before going on to her own.
+
+In a few minutes both girls, dry and freshly clad, knocked at Rita's
+door; and though her "Come in" still sounded rather sullen, it was yet a
+distinct invitation, and they entered. Rita had made this room over in
+her own way, much to Elizabeth's inconvenience. The chintz curtains were
+almost covered with little flags, emblems, feathery grasses, and the
+like, pinned here and there in picturesque confusion. A large Cuban flag
+draped the mantelpiece, and portraits of the Cuban leaders adorned the
+walls. Over the dressing-table was the great scarlet fan which had
+played such a conspicuous part in the drama of "_Cuba Libre_," and it
+was pinned to the wall with a dagger of splendid and alarming
+appearance. The mirror was completely framed in photographs, mostly of
+dark-eyed señoritas in somewhat exaggerated toilets. Inscriptions in
+every variety of sprawling hand testified to the undying love of
+Conchita, Dolores, Manuela, and a dozen others, for their all-beautiful
+Margarita, to part from whom was death.
+
+If this were literally true, the youthful population of Cuba must have
+been sensibly diminished by Rita's departure. There were black-browed
+youths, too, some gazing tenderly, some scowling fiercely, all wearing
+the Cuban ribbon with all possible ostentation. One of these youths was
+manifestly Carlos Montfort, Rita's brother, for they were like enough to
+have been twins; another had been pointed out to Margaret, in a whisper
+charged with dramatic meaning, as "Fernando," the cousin on her mother's
+side, the handsomest man in Havana, and the most fascinating. Margaret
+looked coolly enough at this devastator of hearts, and thought that her
+own cousin Carlos was far handsomer. Peggy thought so, too; indeed, her
+susceptible sixteen-year-old heart was deeply impressed by Cousin
+Carlos's appearance, and she would often steal into the room during
+Rita's absence, to peep and sigh at the delicate, high-bred face, with
+its flashing dark eyes, and the hair that grew low on the forehead, with
+just the same tendril curls that made Rita's hair so lovely. Oh! Peggy
+would think, if her own hair were only dark, or even brown,--anything
+but this disgusting, wishy-washy flaxen. She had longed for dark eyes
+and hair ever since she could remember. Poor Peggy! But she kept her
+little romance to herself, and indeed it was a very harmless one, and
+helped her a good deal about keeping her hair neat and her shoe-strings
+tied.
+
+When the girls went in now, they found Rita curled up on her sofa, with
+the robe and pillow of chinchilla fur that had come with her from Cuba.
+It was a bad sign, Margaret had learned, when the furs came out in warm
+weather. It meant a headache generally, and at any rate a chilly state
+of body, which was apt to be accompanied by a peevish state of mind.
+Still, she looked so pretty, peeping out of the soft gray nest! She was
+such a child, after all, in spite of her seventeen years,--decidedly,
+she must be amused.
+
+"Well," said Rita, half dolefully, half crossly, "I cannot command
+solitude, it appears. I am desolated; I desire to die, while this
+frightful rain pours down, but I cannot die alone; that is not suffered
+me."
+
+"Certainly not," replied Margaret cheerfully. "Don't die yet, please,
+dear, but when you feel that you must, we will be at hand to take your
+last wishes, won't we, Peggy?"
+
+But Peggy thought Margaret cruel, and could only look at Rita
+remorsefully, feeling that she had sinned, she knew not how.
+
+"And how are we to amuse ourselves?" added Margaret, seating herself on
+the couch at Rita's feet. "I think we must tell stories; it is a perfect
+day for stories. Oh, Peggy, don't you want to get my knitting, like the
+dear good child you are? I cannot listen well unless I have my
+knitting."
+
+Peggy brought the great pink and gray blanket which had been Margaret's
+friend and companion for several months, and with it her own diminutive
+piece of work, a doily that she was supposed to be embroidering. Rita
+lay watching them with bright eyes, her eyebrows still nearer together
+than was desirable. At last, "Well," she said again. There was
+impatience and irritation in the tone, but there was interest, too.
+
+"Well," replied Margaret, "I was only thinking what would be pleasantest
+to do; there are so many things. How would it do for each of us to tell
+a story,--a heroic story, such as will stand the rain, and not be afraid
+of a wetting?"
+
+"Of our own deeds?" inquired Rita.
+
+"Oh, perhaps hardly that. If I waited to find a heroic deed of my own
+performance, you might get tired, my dear. Somehow heroics do not come
+every day, as they used in story times. But I can tell you one of my
+father. Will you hear it?"
+
+Rita nodded languidly; Peggy looked up eagerly.
+
+"It was in the great Blankton fire," said Margaret. "I don't suppose
+you know about it, Rita, but Peggy may have heard. No? Well, the country
+is very big, after all. It seems as if all the world must have heard of
+that fire. I was hardly more than a baby at the time, but I remember
+seeing the red glare, and thinking that we were not going to have any
+night that time, as the sun was getting up again as soon as he had gone
+to bed. We were living in Blankton that winter, for papa had some work
+that made it necessary for him to be near the Blankton libraries;
+Historical Society work, you know, as so much of his work was." She
+paused for some appreciative word, but none came. Apparently neither of
+her cousins had heard of the Historical Society, which had played so
+large a part in her father's life and her own.
+
+"The whole sky was like blood!" she went on; "and when the smoke-clouds
+that hung low over the city blew aside, we could see the flames darting
+up, high, high, like pillars and spires. Oh! it was a beautiful,
+dreadful sight! I watched it, baby as I was, with delight. I never
+thought that my own father was in all that terrible glow and furnace,
+and that he came near losing his precious life to save another's."
+
+"How?" cried Peggy, roused at the mention of saving life. "Did he start
+another fire to meet it?"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" cried Margaret, in her turn failing to appreciate the
+Western point of view. "He tried to help put it out at first in the
+building where he was, and when he saw that was impossible, he went to
+work getting out his books and papers. They were very, very valuable; no
+money could have bought some of them, he said, for they were original
+documents, and in some cases there were no duplicates. They were Papa's
+treasures,--more to him than twenty fortunes. So he began taking them
+out, slowly and carefully, thinking he had plenty of time. But after he
+had taken out the first load, he heard cries and groans in a room near
+his own office, and going in, he found an old man, a wretched old miser
+that lived there all alone, in dirt and misery, though every one knew he
+was immensely rich. He seemed to have gone out of his mind with fright,
+and there he sat, his hands full of notes and bonds and things,
+screaming and crying, and saying that he could not go out, for he would
+be robbed, and he must stay there and burn to death. Papa tried to
+reason with him, but he would not listen, only screamed louder, and
+called Papa a robber when he tried to take the papers from him. Then
+Papa called to the men who were passing by to help him, but they were
+all so busy saving their own things, they could not stop, I suppose, or
+at any rate, they did not; and all the time the fire was coming nearer,
+and the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. Somebody who knew Papa
+called to him that the fire had reached his entry, and that in five
+minutes his office would be in flames. He started to run, thinking he
+could get out a few precious books, and let the others go while he got
+the old man out; but this time the poor old soul clung to him, and
+begged not to be left to burn, and looking out into the hall, Papa saw
+the smoke-cloud all shot with flame, and bright tongues licking along
+the walls toward him. So he took the old man by the arm and tried to
+lead him out, but he screamed that his box must go too, his precious
+box, or he should die of grief. That was his strong-box, and it was too
+heavy for him to lift, so he sat down beside it, hugging it, and saying
+that he would never leave it. Poor Papa was at his wit's end, for at any
+moment they might be surrounded and cut off from the stairs. So he
+heaved up the box and threw it out of the window, and then he took the
+old miser on his back and ran for his life. Oh, girls, there was only
+just time! He had to run through the fire, and his hair and beard were
+singed, and his clothes; but he got through, half blinded and choked,
+and almost strangled, too, for the old miser was clutching his throat
+all the time, and screaming out that he had murdered him."
+
+"Why did he not drop him?" inquired Rita. "My faith, why should he be
+saved, the old vegetable?"
+
+"Oh, Rita, you don't know what you are saying. It was a human life, and
+of course he _had_ to save it; but it did seem cruel that the precious
+books and papers had to be sacrificed for just wretched money. That was
+the heroic part of it,--Papa's leaving the things that meant more to him
+than anything in the world, except me and his friends, and saving the
+old miser's money."
+
+"If he could have saved him and the books, and let the money go to
+Jericho!" said Peggy; "but I suppose he couldn't."
+
+"That was just it! The man was really out of his mind, you see, and if
+Papa had left him he might have run into the fire, or jumped out of the
+window, or done any other crazy thing. Well, that is my story, girls.
+Who shall come next,--you, Rita?"
+
+Rita had been only partly roused by the story of the fire. An uncle
+saving a dirty old man and his money did not specially appeal to her;
+the hero should have been young and ardent, and should have saved a lady
+from the burning house. Peggy wanted to be responsive, but it seemed a
+great fuss to make over musty old books and papers; probably they were
+like those that Margaret made such a time about in the library here;
+Peggy had looked at some of them, and they were as dry as dry could be.
+If he had saved a dog, now, or a child,--and at the thought her eyes
+brightened.
+
+"Do heroines count," she asked; "or must it be a man?"
+
+"Of course they count!" cried Margaret, bending over her work to hide
+the tears that came to her eyes. She felt the glow checked in her
+heart,--knew that her story, her beloved story, had not struck the note
+that always thrilled her when she saw in thought her father, slender,
+gray-haired, carrying out the strange man, and leaving behind him,
+without a word, the fruits of years of toil.
+
+"Of course heroines count, my dear! Have you one for us?"
+
+"Ma did something nice once," said Peggy shyly; "she saved my life when
+I was a baby."
+
+"Tell us!" cried both girls, and Rita's eyes brightened, for this seemed
+to promise better.
+
+"It was when Pa first took up the claim," said Peggy. "The country was
+pretty wild then,--Indians about, and a good many big beasts: panthers,
+and mountain lions, and so on. I was the only girl, and I was two years
+old. Pa used to be out on the claim all day, and the boys with him, all
+except Hugh, and he was in bed at that time; and Ma used to work in the
+garden, and keep me by her so that I wouldn't get into mischief.
+
+"One day she was picking currants, and I had been sitting by her,
+playing with some hollyhock flowers she had given me. She did not notice
+when I crawled away, but suddenly she heard me give a queer sort of
+scream. She turned round, and there was a big panther dragging me off
+down the garden path by my dress. Ma felt as if she was dead for a
+minute; but then she ran back to the seed-house--it was only a few steps
+off--and got a hoe that she knew was there, and tore off after the
+panther. It wasn't going very fast, for I was a pretty heavy baby, and
+it didn't know at first that any one was after it. When it heard Ma
+coming it started off quicker, and had almost got to the woods when she
+caught up. Ma raised that hoe and brought it down on the beast's head as
+hard as she knew how. It dropped me, and turned on her, grinning and
+snarling, and curling its claws all ready for a spring. She never
+stopped to draw breath; she raised the hoe again, and that time, she
+says, she prayed to the swing of it; and she brought it down, and heard
+the creature's skull go crash under it, and felt the hoe sink in. The
+panther gave a scream and rolled over, and then Ma rolled over too; and
+when Pa came home to dinner, a few minutes later, they were both lying
+there still, and I was trying to pick up my hollyhock flowers. We have
+never had hollyhocks since then; Ma can't bear 'em."
+
+There was no doubt about the effect of Peggy's story. Before it was
+finished Rita was sitting bolt upright, her chinchilla robe thrown back,
+her hands clasped over her knee, her eyes alight with interest; and
+Margaret cried, "Oh, Peggy, Peggy, what a splendid story!"
+
+"Well, it's true!" said Peggy.
+
+"Of course it is; that's the splendid part. Oh, I am so proud to have an
+aunt so brave and strong. Aunt--why, Peggy, you have never told me your
+mother's name!"
+
+"You never asked," said Peggy. "Her name is Susan."
+
+Margaret blushed, and mentally applied the scourge to herself. It was
+true; she never had asked. Peggy had said that her mother had no
+education, and had got along very well without it; this was all that
+Margaret wanted to know. A shallow, ignorant woman, who had let her
+child grow up in such ignorance as Peggy's; and now she learned, all in
+a moment, of a strong, brave woman, helping her husband to clear the
+waste where their home was to be, making that home, bringing up her
+great family in love and rude plenty, and killing wild beasts with her
+own hard, honest hand. Margaret was learning a good deal this summer,
+and this was one of the most salutary lessons. She bowed her head and
+accepted it, but she only said aloud:
+
+"Aunt Susan! I hope I shall know her some day. I shall put her in my
+heroine book, Peggy, from this minute." And the tone was so warm and
+hearty that Peggy's eyes filled with tears, and she felt dimly that she,
+too, had been neglectful of "Ma" of late, and resolved to write a good
+long letter that very afternoon.
+
+"And now it is your turn, Rita!" said Margaret. "I give you till I knit
+to the end of this row to find a hero or heroine in your family. You
+must have plenty of them."
+
+Rita laughed, and curled herself into another graceful, sinuous
+attitude. Her eyes shone. "My brother Carlos is in the mountains," she
+said; "my cousin Fernando with him. Pouf! if I were with them!"
+
+She was silent a moment, and then went on, speaking slowly, and pausing
+every few minutes to blow little holes in her chinchilla robe, a
+favourite amusement of hers.
+
+"The San Reals have plenty of heroes, heroines too; my mother was a San
+Real, you remember. What will you have, Marguerite? Far back, an
+ancestor of mine was the most beautiful woman in Spain. Her lover was
+seized by the Inquisition; she went to the Tribunal, accused herself,
+and died in his place. Will you have her for a heroine? My
+great-grandfather--he was a Grandee of Spain. The nephew of the king
+insulted him to the death, and thought his rank made him safe. He was
+found dead the next morning, and my great-grandfather lay dead beside
+him, with the dagger in his heart that had first slain the prince. Is he
+a hero such as you love, Marguerite?"
+
+"No, not at all!" cried Margaret, "Rita, what dreadful tales! Those were
+the dark days, when people did not know better; but surely you must
+have some ancestors who were not murd--who did not die violent deaths."
+
+"They are San Reals!" said Rita. "They had royal blood of Spain in their
+veins. Cold, thin, Northern blood cannot warm to true heroism." She
+sulked for some time after this, and refused to say anything more; but
+desire of imparting was strong in her, and Margaret's smile could not be
+resisted indefinitely.
+
+"Come!" she said. "You meant no harm, Marguerite; you cannot understand
+me or my people, but I should have known it, and your birth is not your
+fault. Listen, then, and see if this will please you."
+
+She seemed to meditate for some time, and when she spoke again it was
+still more slowly, as if she were choosing her words.
+
+"Once on a time,--no matter when,--there was a war. A cruel, unjust,
+devilish war, when the people of--when my people were ground to the
+earth, tortured, annihilated. All that was right and true and good was
+on one side; on the other, all that was base and brutal and horrible.
+There was no good, none! they are--they were devils, allowed to come to
+earth,--who can tell why?
+
+"The--the army of my people had suffered; they were in need of many
+things, of food, of shoes, but most of all of arms. The whole nation
+cried for bloodshed, and there were not arms for the half of them. How
+to get weapons? Near by there was another country, but a short way
+across the water--"
+
+"Africa?" asked Peggy innocently. But Rita flashed at her with eyes and
+teeth.
+
+"If you will be silent, Calibana! Do I tell this story, or do you? have
+I mentioned a name?"
+
+"I beg pardon!" muttered poor Peggy. "I didn't mean to interrupt, Rita;
+I only thought Africa was the nearest to Spain across the water."
+
+Rita glowered at her, and continued. "This neighbour-country was rich,
+great, powerful; but her people were greedy, slothful, asleep. They had
+arms, they had food, money, everything. Did they help my people in their
+need? I tell you, no!"
+
+She almost shrieked the last words, and Margaret looked up in some
+alarm, but concluding that Rita was merely working herself up to a
+dramatic crisis, she went on with her knitting.
+
+"To this rich, slothful country," Rita went on, dwelling on every
+adjective with infinite relish, "came a girl, a daughter of the country
+that was bleeding, dying. She was young; she had fire in her veins
+instead of blood; she was a San Real. She stayed in a house--a
+place--near the seashore, a house empty for the great part; full of
+rooms, empty of persons. The thought came to her,--Here I could conceal
+arms, could preserve them for my country, could deliver them to vessels
+coming by sea. It is a night expedition, it is a little daring, a little
+valour, the risk of my life,--what is that? I could arm my country, my
+brothers, against the tyrants. I could--" Rita paused, and both girls
+looked at her in amazement. She had risen from the couch, and now stood
+in the middle of the room; her slender form quivered with emotion; her
+great eyes shone with dark fire; her voice vibrated on their ears with
+new and powerful cadences.
+
+"This girl--was alone. She needed help. With her in the house were
+others, her friends, but knowing little of her heart. Their blood
+flowed slowly, coldly; they were good, they were kind, but--would they
+help her? Would they brave danger for her sake, for the sake of the
+country that was dearer to her than life? Alone she was but one, with
+their aid--
+
+"Listen! there came one day a letter to this house by the sea; it was
+for--for the person of whom I speak. Her brother was near, in a city not
+far off. He had come to collect arms, he had bought them, he must find a
+place to conceal them. Her dream was about to come true. She turned to
+her friends, the two whom she loved! She opened her arms, she opened her
+soul; she cried to them--"
+
+"Stop!" said Margaret. She, too, had risen to her feet, and her face was
+very pale. Peggy looked from one to the other in alarm. Were they going
+to quarrel? Margaret's eyes were as bright as Rita's, but their light
+was calm and penetrating, not flashing and glowing with passion.
+
+"Rita," she said, "I hope--I trust I am entirely wrong in what I cannot
+help thinking. I trust this is a story, and nothing else. It cannot be
+anything else!" she continued, her voice gaining firmness as she went
+on. "We are here in our uncle's house. He is away, he has left us in
+charge, having confidence in his brothers' daughters. If--if
+anything--if anybody should plan such a thing as you suggest, it would
+not only be ungrateful, it would be base. I could not harbour such a
+thought for an instant. Oh, I hope I wrong you! I hope it was only a
+dramatic fancy. Tell me that it was, my dear, and I will beg your pardon
+most humbly."
+
+She paused for an answer, but Rita made none for the moment.
+
+She stood silent, the very soul of passion, her eyes dilating, her lips
+apart, her breast heaving with the furious words that her will would not
+suffer to escape. Margaret almost thought she would spring upon her,
+like the wild creature she seemed. But presently a change came over the
+Cuban girl. A veil gathered over the glowing eyes; her hands unclenched
+themselves, opened softly; her whole frame seemed to relax its tension,
+and in another moment she dropped on her couch with a low laugh.
+
+"_Chère Marguerite_," she said, "you, too, were born for the stage. Your
+climax, it was magnificent, _très chère_; pity that you spoiled it with
+an anti-climax." And she shrugged her shoulders. "My poor little story!
+You would not even let me finish it. No matter; perhaps it has no end;
+perhaps I was but trying to see if I could put life into you, statues
+that you are. Ah, it was a pretty story, if I could have been permitted
+to finish it!"
+
+Margaret turned scarlet. "My dear, if I have been rude," she said, "I am
+very sorry, Rita; I thought--"
+
+"You thought!" said Rita, her full voice dropping the words scornfully,
+in a way that was hard to bear. "Your thoughts are very valuable, _très
+chère_; I must not claim too many of them; they would be wasted on a
+poor patriot like me. And thou, Peggy, how didst thou like my story,
+eh?"
+
+Rita turned so suddenly on Peggy that the poor child had not time to
+shut her mouth, which had been open in sheer amazement.
+
+"Shut it!" said Rita sharply. "Is it a whale, or the Gulf of Mexico? I
+asked how you like my story, little stupid. Have you had sense to attend
+to it?"
+
+Peggy's eyes filled with tears. A month ago she would have answered
+angrily, but now Rita was her goddess, and she could only weep at a
+harsh word from her.
+
+"I--I think it is fine for a story, Rita," she answered slowly. "I loved
+to hear it. But--" Her blue eyes wandered helplessly for a moment, then
+met Margaret's steady gaze, and settled. "But if such a thing were true,
+Margaret would be right, wouldn't she?"
+
+"And if you removed yourselves now?" queried Rita, turning her back to
+them with a sudden fling of the fur robe over her shoulder. "One must
+sleep in this place, or be talked to death, it appears. I choose sleep.
+My ears ring at present as with the sound of the sea,--a sea of cold
+babble! _Adios_, Señorita Calibana, Doña Fish-blood! I pray for relief!"
+
+Margaret took Peggy's hand without a word, and they went out; but Peggy
+cried till dinner-time, and would not be comforted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+IN THE SADDLE.
+
+
+     "To witch the world with noble horsemanship."
+
+Rita's "story" was not the first thing to rouse suspicion in Margaret's
+mind. It was rather the concluding word of a sentence that had been
+forming in her mind during the last ten days.
+
+Something was on foot; some mystery hung about; she had felt thus much,
+and had felt, too, that it was connected with Rita; but all had been
+vague, uncertain.
+
+Rita had been receiving many letters with the New York postmark; but
+what of that? It was not Margaret's business to take notice of her
+cousin's letters. She had met Rita once or twice at the foot of the
+garret stairs, evidently returning from a visit to that place of shadowy
+delight. What of that? Rita had said each time that she had been looking
+for such and such a costume; that she was planning a charade, a new
+tableau, that would be sure to ravish her cousins; and in the evening
+she would produce the charade or the tableau, and sure enough, it would
+be enchanting, and they were delighted, and most grateful to her for the
+pains she took to amuse them. And yet--and yet--had she been at these
+pains until lately? Had not Margaret herself been the one who must think
+of the evening's amusement, plan the game, the reading, or singing,
+which should keep the three various natures in harmonious accord? So it
+had surely been, until these last ten days; and now--
+
+But how hateful to suspect, when it might be that Rita was merely
+feeling that perhaps she had not done her share, and had realised that
+with her great talent and her lovely voice and presence, she was the one
+to plan and execute their little entertainments? And what should
+Margaret suspect? It was not her nature to be anything but trustful of
+those around her; and yet--and yet--
+
+But now her suspicions had taken definite shape, and Rita herself had
+confirmed them. There could no longer be any doubt that she was
+planning to take advantage of their uncle's continued absence to aid her
+brother,--who was in New York, as Margaret knew, in spite of Rita's
+recent declaration that he was in the mountains,--and to conceal arms in
+Fernley House, and have them shipped from there. It seemed impossible;
+it seemed a thing out of a play or a novel, but she could not doubt the
+fact. After all, Rita was a person for a play or a novel. This thing,
+which to Margaret seemed unspeakable, was to Rita but a natural impulse
+of patriotism, a piece of heroism.
+
+Of course she would not be able to do it; no person in her senses would
+attempt such a thing, on Long Island, only a few miles from New York;
+but the hot-blooded young Cubans would not realise that, and they might
+make some attempt which, though futile, would bring disagreeable
+consequences to Mr. Montfort and to all concerned. What was Margaret to
+do? The absurdity of the whole thing presented itself to her keenly, and
+she would have been glad enough to turn it all into a jest, and take it
+as the "story" with which Rita had tried to rouse her cool-blooded
+cousins; but that could not be. Rita had meant every word she said, and
+more; that was evident. What was Margaret to do? Her first thought was
+of Mrs. Cheriton; her second of John Strong, the gardener. Aunt Faith
+ought not, she was sure, to be disturbed or made anxious; her hold on
+life was too slender; her days must flow evenly and peacefully, as Uncle
+John had arranged them for her; it would never do to tell her of this
+threatened, fantastic danger. But John Strong! he was Mr. Montfort's
+confidential servant, almost his friend. Nay, Aunt Faith had spoken of
+him as "a good friend," simply and earnestly. He knew Uncle John's
+address, no doubt; he would give it to her, or write himself, as seemed
+best. It was dreadful to betray her cousin, but these were not the days
+of melodrama, and it was quite clear that Fernley House could not be
+made a deposit of arms for the Cuban insurgents during its master's
+absence. So with a clear conscience, though a heavy heart, Margaret
+sought the garden.
+
+John Strong was there, as he always was in the morning, fondling his
+roses, clipping, pruning, tying up, and setting out. In the afternoons
+he was never visible. Margaret had heard his voice occasionally in Mrs.
+Cheriton's rooms, but had never seen him there; he had evidently other
+work, or other haunts of his own, which kept him out of the way. She
+could not help knowing that he used her uncle's private sitting-room,
+but she took it for granted that it was with Mr. Montfort's leave and
+for his business. Rita might mistrust this man; but no one of Northern
+blood could look on the strong, quiet face without feeling that it was
+that of one of nature's noblemen, at least.
+
+"John," said Margaret, after she had admired the roses and listened to a
+brief but eloquent dissertation upon Catherine Mermet and Maréchal Niel,
+"how near are we to the sea?"
+
+"To the sea, Miss Margaret? Call it a quarter of a mile. The rise of the
+land hides it from Fernley, but you will notice that we are near, by the
+sound of it; and you have been down to the shore a number of times, I
+think."
+
+"Yes; oh, yes! I know it is very near. I was only thinking--John, would
+it be easy for--persons--to come here from the shore, without being
+seen? I mean, could a vessel lie off here and not attract attention?"
+
+John Strong looked at her keenly. "That depends, Miss," he said. "By
+day, no; by night, yes. It is a quiet part of the shore, you see."
+
+"Do you know when Mr. Montfort is coming home?" was Margaret's next
+question; and as she put it she looked straight into the gardener's
+brown eyes, and they looked straight into hers. She fancied that John
+Strong changed colour a little.
+
+"I have not heard from him lately," he said quietly. "I think he will be
+here very soon now. Could I--may I ask if anything is distressing you,
+my--Miss Margaret?"
+
+Margaret hesitated. The temptation was strong upon her to tell the whole
+tale to this man, whom she felt she could trust entirely; but the
+thought of Rita held her back. She would say what was necessary, and no
+more.
+
+"I--I think--" she began timidly, "it might be well for you to be
+watchful at night, John. The Cubans--I have heard rumours--there might
+be vessels,--do you think, possibly--"
+
+She broke off. The whole thing seemed like a nursery nightmare,
+impossible to put into plain English without exposing its absurdity. But
+John Strong glanced at her again, and his eyes were grave.
+
+"Miss Rita is deeply interested in the Cuban war, I believe," he said,
+with meaning.
+
+Margaret started. "How did you know?" she asked. "Surely she has not--"
+
+John Strong laughed. "Hardly," he said. "Miss Rita does not converse
+with menials. It was Peggy--Miss Peggy, I should say--who told me about
+it. She was quite inclined to take fire herself, but I think I cooled
+her down a bit. These are dangerous matters for young ladies to meddle
+with. I think she told me that young Mr. Carlos Montfort was now in New
+York?"
+
+"I--I believe so," said Margaret. She was angry with Peggy for talking
+so freely, yet it was a great help to her now, for John Strong evidently
+understood more of the matter than she would have liked to tell him.
+
+"You may trust me, Miss Margaret, I think," he said presently, after a
+few moments of silent snipping. "It is not necessary for me to know
+anything in particular, even if there is anything to know. I am an old
+soldier, and used to keeping watch, and sleeping with one eye open. You
+may trust me. You have said nothing of this to Mrs. Cheriton?" He looked
+up quickly.
+
+"No; I thought she ought not to be distressed--"
+
+"That was right; that was very right. You have shown--that is, you may
+depend on me, young lady. May I cut this bud for you? It is a perfect
+one, if I may say so. Perhaps you will look closer at it, Miss; (Miss
+Rita is observing you from the balcony, and you would not wish)--there,
+Miss. I shall bring some cut flowers into the dining-room later, for
+arrangement, as you ask. Good morning, Miss."
+
+Margaret returned to the house, half relieved, half bewildered. John
+Strong was certainly a remarkable person. She did not understand his
+position here, which seemed far removed from that of a domestic, but
+after all, it was none of her business. And even if he did speak of
+Peggy by her first name, was it Margaret's place to reprove him? He was
+almost old enough to be Peggy's grandfather.
+
+Rita had apparently forgotten the storm of the day before. She was in
+high good humour, and greeted Margaret with effusion.
+
+"Just in time, Marguerite. Where have you been? We have called till we
+are hoarse. Look at us; we go to ride. We are to have an exhibition of
+skill, on the back of the white beast. Behold our costumes, found in the
+garret."
+
+Margaret looked, and laughed and admired. Rita was dressed in a long
+black velvet riding-habit, with gold buttons, a regal garment in its
+time, but now somewhat rubbed and worn; a tall hat of antique form
+perched upon her heavy braids, and she looked very businesslike. Peggy
+had found no such splendour, but had put on a scarlet military coat over
+her own bicycle skirt. "Finery is good," she said, "but not on
+horseback." A three-cornered hat, with the mouldering remains of a
+feather, completed her costume, and she announced herself as the
+gentleman of the party.
+
+"Rita was saying what a pity it was there were no boys here, and I told
+her I ought to have been a boy, and I would do my best now," said Peggy
+good-naturedly. Rita made a little grimace, as if this were not the
+kind of boy she desired, but she nodded kindly at Peggy, and said she
+was "fine."
+
+"And you, Marguerite? How will you appear? Will you find a cap and
+spectacles, and come as our grandmother? That would approve itself,
+_n'est-ce-pas_?" It was laughingly said, but the sting was there,
+nevertheless, and was meant to be felt.
+
+"Oh, I should delay you," replied Margaret. "Let me come as I am, and be
+ringmaster, or audience, or whatever you like. I never rode in my life,
+you know." Peggy opened wide her eyes, Rita curled her lip, but Margaret
+only laughed. "Frightful, isn't it? but how would you have me ride in my
+father's study? And the horses that went by our windows had mostly drays
+behind them, so they were not very tempting. Is William going to saddle
+White Eagle for you, girls?"
+
+"William has gone to the mill, or to bed, or somewhere," said Peggy. "I
+am going to saddle him myself. John Strong said I might."
+
+They went out to the great, pleasant barn, and while Peggy saddled the
+good horse, Rita and Margaret mounted the old swing, and went flying
+backward and forward between the great banks of fragrant hay.
+
+"Isn't it good to be a swallow?" said Margaret. "I wonder if we shall
+really fly some day; it really seems as if we might."
+
+"I would rather be an eagle," said Rita. "To flutter a little, here and
+there, and sleep in a barn,--that would not be a great life. An eagle,
+soaring over the field of battle,--aha! he is my bird! But what is this
+outcry? Has he bitten thee, Peggy?"
+
+For Peggy was shouting from below; yet when they listened, the shouts
+were of wonder and delight.
+
+"Oh, girls, do just look here! There is a new horse,--a colt! Oh, what a
+beauty!"
+
+The girls came down hastily, and ran to the door of the second box
+stall, which had been empty since they came. There stood a noble young
+horse, jet black, with a single white mark on his forehead. His coat
+shone like satin, his eyes beamed with friendly inquiry. Already Peggy
+had her head against his shoulder, and was murmuring admiration in his
+ear.
+
+"You lovely, you dear, beautiful thing, where did you come from? Oh,
+Margaret, isn't he a darling? Come and see him!"
+
+Margaret came in rather timidly; she was not used to animals, and the
+horse seemed very large, tramping about freely in his ample stall. But
+he received her so kindly, and put his nose in her pocket with such
+confiding grace, that her fears were soon conquered. Rita patted him
+graciously, but kept her distance. "Very fine, my dear, but the straw
+smells, and gets on one's clothes so. Saddle me this one, Peggy, and you
+can have the white one yourself."
+
+"Are we--have we leave to take this horse?" asked Margaret, colouring.
+It was too horrid that she must always play the dragon,--as if she liked
+it,--and of course the others thought she did.
+
+"Have we been forbidden to take the horse, dear?" asked Rita with
+dangerous sweetness. "No? But perhaps you were told to keep watch on us
+by your friend, the servant, who wears his master's clothes? Again, no?
+Then kindly permit me, at least, to do as I think best."
+
+"Oh, Rita!" cried Peggy, "perhaps we ought not--"
+
+"_Chut!_" cried Rita, flashing upon her in the way that always
+frightened Peggy out of her wits. "Do you saddle me the horse, or do I
+do it myself?"
+
+Margaret thought it was highly improbable that Rita could do it herself,
+but she said no more. A difficulty arose, however. There was found to be
+but one saddle. "Never mind!" said Peggy. "I can ride bareback just as
+well as saddleback; but I am afraid, Rita--"
+
+"Afraid!" cried Rita. "You too, Peggy? My faith, what a set!"
+
+"Afraid the saddle will not fit the black!" said Peggy, looking for once
+defiantly at her terrible cousin. "White Eagle is so big, you see; the
+saddle was made for him, and it slips right off this fellow's back."
+
+Rita fretted and stamped her pretty feet, and said various explosive
+things under her breath, and not so far under but that they could be
+heard pretty well, but all this did not avail to make the saddle smaller
+or the new horse bigger; so at last she was obliged to mount White
+Eagle, and to have the mortification of seeing Peggy vault lightly on
+the back of the black beauty. He had never been ridden before, perhaps;
+certainly he was not used to it, for he reared upright, and a less
+practised horsewoman than Peggy would have been thrown in an instant;
+but she sat like a rock, and stroked the horse between his ears, and
+patted his neck, and somehow wheedled him down on his four legs again.
+Margaret watched with breathless interest. This was all new to her. Rita
+looked graceful and beautiful, and rode with ease and skill, but Peggy
+was mistress of the situation. The black horse flew here and there,
+rearing, squealing with excitement, occasionally indulging in something
+suspiciously like a "buck;" but Peggy, unruffled, still coaxed and
+caressed him, and showed him so plainly that she was there to stay as
+long as she felt inclined, that after a while he gave up the struggle,
+and settling down into a long, smooth gallop, bore her away like the
+wind over the meadow and up the slope that lay beyond. Now they came to
+a low stone wall, and the watchers thought they would turn back; but
+Peggy lifted the black at it, and he went over like a bird. Next moment
+they were out of sight over the brow of the hill.
+
+[Illustration: HORSEBACK.]
+
+"Oh," cried Margaret, turning to Rita, her face aglow with pleasure,
+"wasn't that beautiful? Why, I had no idea the child could ride like
+that, had you? I never knew what riding was before."
+
+Rita tried to look contemptuous, but the look was not a success. "A
+gentlewoman does not require to ride like a stable-boy!" was all she
+said. She was evidently out of humour, so Margaret was silent, only
+watching the hill, to see when the pair would come galloping back over
+the brow.
+
+Here they were! Peggy was waving her hand--her hat had flown off at the
+first caracole, and Rita had ridden over it several times--and shouting
+in jubilation. Her hair flew loose over her shoulders, her short skirt
+was blown about in every direction, but her eyes were so bright, her
+face so rosy and joyous, that she was a pleasant sight to see, as,
+leaping the fence, she came sweeping along over the meadow.
+
+"Hail!" cried Margaret, when she came within hearing. "Hail, daughter of
+Chiron! gloriously ridden, O youthful Centauress!"
+
+Peggy did not know who Chiron was, but she caught the approving sound of
+the words, and waved her hand. "Come on, Rita!" she cried. "Take the
+Eagle over the fence! It's great fun. I'm going to try standing up in a
+minute, when he is a little more used to me."
+
+They set off at an easy gallop, and White Eagle took the fence well
+enough, though it was his first, and he was no colt, like the black.
+Then they circled round and round the meadow, sometimes neck and neck,
+sometimes one far in advance. Generally it was Peggy, for the black was
+far the swifter animal of the two; but now and then she pulled him in,
+like the good-natured girl she was, and let her cousin gallop ahead.
+Margaret watched them with delight, not a pang of envy disturbing her
+enjoyment. What a perfect thing it was! how enchanting to be one with
+your horse, and feel his strong being added to your own! How--
+
+But what was this? All in a minute, something happened. The black put
+his foot in a hole,--a woodchuck's burrow,--stumbled, pitched forward,
+and threw Peggy heavily to the ground. He recovered himself in a moment,
+and stood trembling; but Peggy lay still. Margaret was at her side in an
+instant. The child had struck her head on a stone, and was insensible,
+and bleeding profusely from a cut on the left temple. Rita dismounted
+and came near.
+
+"Some water, please!" said Margaret. "Bring water quickly, Rita, while I
+stop the bleeding. And give me your handkerchief, will you, before you
+go?" She held out one hand, which was already covered with blood;
+glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and trembling
+violently.
+
+"What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,--ill? hold her, then, and I
+will run."
+
+"No,--no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is--the blood! I cannot bear the
+sight. I will go--I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It is
+too terrible!"
+
+"Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently.
+
+"She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had some
+water, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!"
+
+Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought,
+yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steady
+hand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same moment
+Margaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blue
+eyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,--was Peggy giggling, even
+before she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously,
+afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and it
+was Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and--yes! undoubtedly
+laughing.
+
+"Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but with
+perfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I have
+come; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But--I say,
+Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I was
+dead?"
+
+"Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those people who faint at the sight
+of blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind you
+a bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!"
+
+"Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes.
+But--I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose--the rest
+of them--feel the same way about blood? because--"
+
+"Peggy, I am surprised at you!" said Margaret. "Hush this moment, or I
+will let your head drop!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+     "Quand on conspire, sans frayeur
+     Il faut se faire conspirateur;
+     Pour tout le monde il faut avoir
+     Perruque blonde, et collet noir!"
+
+Peggy's injury proved to be slight, as she herself had declared, but the
+jar had been considerable, and her head ached so that she was glad to be
+put to bed and nursed by Margaret. Rita hovered about, still very pale,
+and apparently much more disturbed by the accident than the actual
+sufferer. She put many questions: Would Peggy be well to-morrow?
+Probably still weak? Would it be necessary for her to remain in her room
+this evening? In that case, what would Margaret do? Would she leave her
+to Elizabeth's care, and come down as usual?
+
+"Certainly not!" Margaret replied. "Elizabeth will stay with Peggy at
+tea-time, but otherwise I shall not leave her. You don't mind staying
+alone, Rita? Of course, there is not much to be done; Peggy is not ill
+at all, only weak and tired, but she likes to have me with her. You will
+not be lonely?"
+
+No; Rita had letters to write. She should do very well. Desolated, of
+course, without the two who were her soul and her existence; but
+Margaret understood that she could not bear the sight of sickness; it
+had been thus from infancy. Margaret nodded kindly, and went back into
+Peggy's room, with an impression that Rita was pleased at having her out
+of the way. Out of the way of what? But Margaret could not think about
+mysteries now. Peggy wanted to talk, and to have her head stroked, and
+to know that Margaret was near her.
+
+"Your hand is so smooth, Margaret. I never felt anything like it; and
+the smoothness and coolness seem to go into my head, and stop the
+aching. Do you think this is being sick? If it is, I like it."
+
+Margaret saw that the child was excited, and her eyes were overbright.
+"No; this is not being sick," she said quietly. "But you ought to be
+sleepy by this time, my pussy. Lie still now, like a good child, and I
+will sing to you. Will you have the 'Bonny House o' Airlie?'"
+
+But it was long before Peggy could be quieted. She wanted to talk. She
+was full of reminiscences of former "croppers" in the lives of the
+various members of her family. She wanted to tell how Jim was dragged by
+the buffalo bull he was taming; how Pa caught the young grizzly by his
+paws, and held him until George came with the rifle; how Brown Billy ran
+away with her when she was six years old, and how she held on by his
+mane till he lay down and rolled in the creek, and then swam ashore. Her
+brain was feverishly excited, and it was not till late in the evening
+that Margaret succeeded in singing and soothing the tired girl to sleep.
+At length Peggy lay still, and her thoughts began to sink away into soft
+dreams, lulled by the soft hand on her brow, and the smooth, sweet voice
+in her ears. She opened her eyes to say, "I love you, Margaret; I love
+you best, over and over, all the time. If I thought I didn't for a bit,
+that was just because I was a stupid, and she--but now I know." And
+Peggy smiled, and smiling, fell asleep.
+
+Margaret sat still for a time, listening to the breathing that grew
+deeper and more regular as the minutes went on. She had brought her own
+bed across the hall, meaning to sleep with Peggy, in case of her waking
+in the night; though that was hardly likely. It was ten o'clock now, and
+Rita was probably asleep. She would go down for a moment to see that all
+was well, and perhaps have a word with Elizabeth, if she were not gone
+to bed. She went softly to the door, and turned the handle noiselessly.
+The door was locked!
+
+Greatly startled, Margaret stood motionless for a few minutes, thinking
+and listening. At first all was still. Footsteps above her
+head,--Elizabeth was going to bed; then the familiar creak of the good
+woman's bed; then silence again. Rita's room was across the hall, and
+she could hear no sound from there. Through the open window came the
+soft night noises: the dew dripping from the chestnut leaves, a little
+sleepy wind stirring the branches, a nut falling to the ground. How
+still!
+
+Hark! did a twig snap then? Was some one moving through the shrubbery,
+brushing gently against the leaves? And then, as her heart stood still
+to listen, Margaret heard a low, musical whistle. She stole to the
+window, and standing in the shadow of the curtain, looked out. A light
+was burning in her room, and at first she could see nothing but
+blackness outside. Gradually, the outlines of the great chestnut stole
+out from the empty darkness, a hard black against the soft gloom of the
+night. Then the shrubbery behind; and then--was something moving there?
+Were those two figures standing by the tree?
+
+The whistle was repeated; and now Margaret heard the swift rustle of
+silk brushing against her door, then fluttering from baluster to
+baluster, as Rita sped down the stairs. A door opening softly, and now
+three figures stood under the chestnut-tree. Words were whispered,
+greetings exchanged; then the three figures stole away into the
+blackness.
+
+Margaret felt helpless for a moment. Locked in,--her cousin asleep here,
+exhausted if not ill, and needing absolute quiet,--and going on
+downstairs--what? She must know! She must call John Strong, and warn
+him that her fears were realised, and that unwelcome visitors were
+already at the doors of Fernley, perhaps already within. But how was it
+possible? She ran to the window and looked down. Full twenty feet! To
+jump was impossible; even Peggy could not have done it. Peggy! yes! but
+Peggy could get out. Only the other night she had had a climbing frenzy,
+and had slid down the gutter-spout, half for the joy of it, half to
+tease Margaret, who was in terror till she reached the ground, and then
+in greater terror when the young gymnast came "shinning" up again,
+shouting and giggling. The spout! Margaret stood looking at it now. For
+a moment her courage deserted her, and she wrung her hands and began to
+sob under her breath; but this would not do! Her nerves knew the
+resolute shake of the shoulders, and shrank into obedience. She set her
+lips firmly, and there crept into her face a certain "dour" look that
+may have come from her Scottish ancestors. "If a thing has to be done,
+why, it must be done!" she said to herself. "Anyhow, there will be
+solid ground at the bottom, not a quaking bog."
+
+Could she do it? She had never climbed in her life. She had been wont to
+grow dizzy on any great height; and here she reflected that she had
+inwardly laughed at Rita, a few hours before, for growing dizzy at the
+sight of blood. "But I have to learn so many lessons!" said poor
+Margaret, and with that she laid her hand on the spout. A moment longer
+she waited, but no longer in hesitation,--she was simply asking for
+strength from One who had never refused it yet; then she clasped the
+pipe with both hands, swung herself out as she had seen Peggy do, and
+slid down, down, down.
+
+Her hands were torn and bleeding, but she reached the ground in safety,
+falling several feet, but escaping with a few bruises which she did not
+feel at the time. She ran round the house toward the east wing, where
+the gardener's room was, but stopped half-way. The door of the
+ground-floor room, her uncle's private room, was open; a light was
+burning inside. Possibly John Strong was himself on the watch, and she
+need go no farther. Margaret turned hastily, entered the room,--and was
+confronted by two young gentlemen in Spanish cloaks and broad-brimmed
+hats.
+
+Margaret's first impulse was to run away; her second, to stand and wait,
+feeling that she was at a play, and that the next scene was going to be
+very thrilling; but the third impulse was the right one, and she stepped
+forward, holding out her hand.
+
+"You are my Cousin Carlos, I am sure!" she said, addressing the taller
+of the two lads (for they were only lads, she saw to her unspeakable
+relief; the elder could not be more than twenty). "I am Margaret
+Montfort. You--you have seen Rita?"
+
+Don Carlos Montfort gasped and bowed, hat in hand. He and his companion
+were evidently new to their rôle of conspirators, for they were
+piteously ill at ease, and their dark eyes roamed about as if in search
+of retreat; but he managed to say something about the distinguished
+honour--a spare hour to visit his sister--delight at making the
+acquaintance of a relative so charming,--here he stopped and looked over
+his shoulder, for footsteps were heard, and he hoped Rita was coming.
+Already he and his comrade were cursing themselves for having been asses
+enough to be drawn into this scrape; why had they attended to a foolish
+girl instead of going their own way? Now they were in a trap--was that
+Rita coming?
+
+The door of the secret staircase was open, showing which way the girl
+had gone. But the steps that were now descending were heavy, though
+quiet,--far different from the rush of an excited bird that had gone up
+a moment before Margaret's appearance. They were to follow Rita,--she
+went to light a candle. Ah! what was this?
+
+The young men recoiled, and their dark eyes opened to their fullest
+width; Margaret's hands came together with a violent clasp. Down the
+narrow stair and into the room came a man in a black velvet jacket; a
+tall man, with bright, dark eyes and a grave face. He held a candle in
+his hand; he set it down, and turned to the two disconcerted Spaniards.
+
+"My nephew," said Mr. Montfort, "I am glad to welcome you and your
+friend to Fernley House. I am your Uncle John!"
+
+Margaret was not conscious of any surprise. It seemed part of the play,
+and as if she had known it all along, but had not been allowed to
+realise it, for some dramatic reason. She saw John Strong--John
+Montfort--shaking hands with the two unhappy young men, and trying to
+put them at their ease by speaking of the bad roads and the poor
+conveyances that were undoubtedly to blame for their arriving so late.
+She saw and heard, but still as in a dream. Her real thought was for
+Rita; what would she do? What desperate step might follow this
+disconcerting of her cherished plan?
+
+Unconsciously Margaret had moved forward, till now she stood the nearest
+to the foot of the stairs. She looked up into the darkness, with some
+thought of going to her cousin, telling her gently what had happened,
+and quieting her so that she might come down and face the situation, and
+meet her uncle. All at once, from that darkness above, a bright light
+sprang up, and the same instant there rang out a wild and terrible
+shriek.
+
+"Help! Carlos, help! I burn!"
+
+The three men started forward, but they were not the first. Margaret
+was conscious of but a single movement as she flew up the stairs, never
+stumbling, lighted by that fearful glare above. To spring into the
+garret, to drag down the heavy old cloak--the same that once had
+frightened the three girls on their first visit--that hung close by the
+stairway, to fling herself upon Rita, throwing her down, muffling her,
+smothering and beating out the flames that were leaping up toward the
+girl's white, wild face,--all this was done in one breath, it seemed to
+her. She knew nothing in the world but the fire she was fighting, the
+little flames that, choked down in one place, came creeping out at her
+from another, playing a dreadful hide-and-seek among the folds of the
+cloak, starting up under her very hands; but Margaret caught them in her
+hands, and strangled the life out of them, and fought on. It was but a
+moment, in reality. Another second or two and the flames would have had
+the mastery; but Margaret's swift rush had been in time, and the good
+heavy cloak--oh, the blessed weight and closeness of its fabric!--had
+shut out the air, so that by the time the last of the three anxious
+pursuers had reached the garret, the fire was out, and only smoke and
+charred woollen remained to tell of the terrible danger. Only these--and
+the two hands, burned and blistered, that Margaret was holding out to
+her uncle, as he bent anxiously over her.
+
+"Don't be angry with her, Uncle!" cried the girl. And she knew nothing
+more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.
+
+
+"And she really is not hurt, Uncle John?"
+
+"Not so much as an eyelash! You were so quick, child! How did you manage
+it? She had only time to scream and put her hands to her face, before
+you were upon her. The thing that flared up so was a lace shawl she had
+on her arm,--switched it into the candle, of course!--and that she
+dropped. It is not of her I am thinking, but of you, my dear, brave
+Margaret!" He bent over her tenderly and anxiously; but she smiled
+brightly in his face.
+
+"Truly, they hardly hurt at all! As you say, I must have been very
+quick, and the flames were only little ones. Elizabeth has bandaged them
+so beautifully; the pain is almost gone already."
+
+They were in Margaret's room; she on her sofa, with her hands swathed in
+bandages, but otherwise looking quite her own self, only a little paler
+than usual; her uncle sitting by her, his hand on her arm. Peggy
+fluttered in and out of the room, entirely recovered from the effect of
+her fall the day before, and proud beyond measure of having charge of
+Margaret, who last night had been watching and tending her. Peggy's
+nursing was of doubtful quality; already she had baptised Margaret
+twice,--once with gruel, again with cologne, when the cork with which
+she had been struggling came out suddenly, deluging her patient with
+fragrance.
+
+But her good will was so hearty, her affection so ardent and so anxious
+to prove itself, that Margaret had not the heart to deny her anything,
+and submitted to having her hair brushed in a style that was entirely
+new to her, and that made her wink at each vigorous stroke of the brush.
+
+Rita had not been seen since the night before, save by Elizabeth, who
+pronounced her well, but "a little upset, Miss!" and Elizabeth's face
+was a study in repression as she spoke.
+
+"And the boys, Uncle?" Margaret asked, when she was assured of Rita's
+safety. "What have you done with them?"
+
+Mr. Montfort laughed.
+
+"Poor boys!" he said. "Poor lads! they have had a hard time of it."
+
+"Oh, do tell me!" cried Margaret.
+
+"Why, they are all right; the boys are all right!" said Mr. Montfort.
+"It is that little monkey over there," nodding toward Rita's room, "who
+has made all the trouble. They have been fighting, it is true, and have
+been in the mountains with the insurgents. Very interesting their
+account of it is, too. If I were thirty years younger--but that is not
+the point. They were sent to New York by their chief on private
+business; something of importance, but perfectly legitimate,--nothing to
+do with arms or anything of the kind. Well, Carlos did not tell Rita the
+object of his coming, and she instantly saw fire and gunpowder, treason
+and plot,--in short, cooked up a whole melodrama to suit herself,--and
+believed it, I have no doubt, an hour after she invented it. She wrote
+Carlos mysterious letters, imploring him to come to her secretly; that
+her fate and that of her country depended upon his faithfulness and
+silence; that she was surrounded by spies--"
+
+"Poor Peggy and me!" cried Margaret. "And you, too, Uncle John! She has
+really had painful suspicions of you."
+
+"No doubt, no doubt! but in my case she had a right to suspicions. We
+will come to that presently. In short, the boy got the impression that
+his sister was immured in a kind of dungeon, surrounded by people who
+were unkind to her, and unable to get away or to call for help openly.
+He says he ought to have known better, for apparently she has been
+acting plays ever since she was short-coated; but this time he was
+really taken in, and came here last night, with his friend and cousin,
+meaning to rescue his sister and take her home to Cuba. Found her not
+desiring in the least to be rescued, but bent on hiding them both in the
+garret, and keeping them there till a cargo of arms and a vessel could
+be brought from New York. You know the rest. Carlos was in the library
+when I came up, waiting for an interview with Rita. I think it may be a
+lively one."
+
+"And the other; the cousin? I hardly saw him. They were both so
+embarrassed, poor dears!"
+
+"Seems a good little fellow; good little fellow enough! Gentlemanly
+boys, both of them. Carlos is much more of a person than the other.
+He--Fernando Sanchez--admires Rita a good deal, I should say, and tries
+to find her conduct admirable; but her brother--hark!"
+
+Something like a silken whirlwind came rushing up the stairs and across
+the hall; something that sobbed with fury, and stamped with feet that
+were too small to make much noise; then a door on the other side of the
+hall shut with a bang that made the solid walls quiver. Margaret and her
+uncle looked at each other. Presently Peggy came in, with round,
+frightened eyes.
+
+"What is the matter with Rita?" she asked. "Has she been in here? She
+came flying across the hall just now--oh, dear! I was just coming out of
+my room, and she took me and shook me, just as hard as she could shake.
+Why, my teeth chattered, Margaret! and then she flung off into her room,
+and slammed the door. My! she was in a tantrum! Oh, I--I--beg your
+pardon!" She faltered at the sight of her uncle, and hung back. She had
+only learned this morning of the astonishing transformation of her
+friend the gardener into the unknown and formidable relative.
+
+Mr. Montfort held out his hand, with the smile that always went to
+Peggy's heart.
+
+"Well, Miss Peggy," he said, "and what roses will you have to-day? My
+dear child," he added, seeing that she was really distressed, "you are
+not really troubled at my little masquerade? I am going to tell you all
+about it soon,--as soon as I can see my three Margarets together. I feel
+that I owe you all an explanation. Margaret has already heard part of my
+story, and when Rita comes in, as I hope she will do soon,--I sent word
+to her that I should be glad to see her here when she had had her talk
+with her brother,--we will go over the whole matter, and find out what
+John Strong and John Montfort have to say for themselves."
+
+He turned the subject, and began to talk of the garden and the flowers,
+in his usual quiet, cheerful way, till Peggy began to steal shy glances
+at him under her eyelashes, and finally to hold her head up and smile
+without looking as if she had stolen a sheep.
+
+They had not long to wait. Before they had settled the position of the
+new rose-bed, Rita's door was heard to open softly; then came the sound
+of trailing garments in slow and stately motion, and the next moment
+Rita entered the room.
+
+She was dressed in deep black from head to foot. A black veil covered
+her hair, and hung gracefully from her shoulders, and in her hand she
+carried a black fan.
+
+There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale but lovely.
+Mr. Montfort rose and came forward, holding out his hand. "My dear
+niece," he said with some formality, "let us shake hands in all
+friendliness."
+
+But Rita did not take the outstretched hand. Instead, she folded her
+hands, and sank down in the deepest and most beautiful courtesy that
+ever was seen. Her eyes remained downcast, the long lashes resting on
+her clear, white cheek.
+
+[Illustration: RITA'S APOLOGY.]
+
+"My uncle," she said, and her tone was dignified, pathetic, and
+resentful, all in one, "I come to make my submission to you, and to ask
+your pardon for my offences. My brother demands it, and I obey the head
+of my house, the representative of my father. I pray you to forgive me!"
+
+Mr. Montfort subdued an unruly twinkle in his eyes, and answered
+gravely:
+
+"I pardon you, my niece, freely. I beg you to consider the matter as if
+it had never existed. My house is yours, and all that it contains; pray
+be seated."
+
+Rita looked up, startled at hearing in English the phrase of Spanish
+courtesy so familiar to her ears; but Mr. Montfort's face was
+inscrutable, as he brought forward a chair, and handed her to it as if
+she were a duchess.
+
+But Rita was not ready to sit down yet; she had arranged her scene, and
+must go through with it. She advanced, and knelt down by Margaret's
+couch. "Marguerite," she said sadly, "you saved my life. It was
+valueless, I have learned; it was not worth the saving; nevertheless I
+thank you from my heart of hearts. I--" Here she caught sight of the
+bandaged hands, which Margaret had been trying to conceal beneath the
+afghan. Instantly the tragic mask fell from Rita's face, and left a real
+human countenance, full of pity and anxiety. "My dear!" she cried. "My
+angel, my poor suffering Marguerite. Ah! you sent me word it was
+nothing. You are injured, terribly injured, and by my fault. Ah! now
+Carlos _must_ let me die, as I desire. Life is no longer possible!"
+
+The words were extravagant, but there was real grief and distress in the
+tone. She laid her head on Margaret's shoulder and sobbed aloud; and
+Peggy was heartily glad to hear her cry, and cried in sympathy. Margaret
+could not stroke the dark head, but she moved her own near it, and
+whispered little comforting words, and kissed the soft hair. And
+presently, finding that the sobs only increased in violence, she
+whispered to Rita that she was distressing her uncle, and that she
+really must try to be quiet on his account. At the sound of his name,
+Rita froze again, though not to her former degree of rigour; with a
+fervent kiss on Margaret's brow, she rose, and finally took the chair
+that had been placed for her. Mr. Montfort sat down opposite, and a
+brief silence followed. He seemed to be thinking what he should say. At
+length he spoke.
+
+"My dear nieces, this is a day of explanations, and I feel that I owe
+you all an explanation of my conduct, which, doubtless, must appear
+strange to you. I--well, I suppose I am an eccentric man. I have always
+been considered so, and I confess not without apparent reason. I have
+often been able to justify to myself conduct which has seemed strange to
+others; and it has been my misfortune to live so much alone, that
+perhaps I may rely too much on this practice of self-justification.
+
+"It is now five years since my friend and cousin, Mrs. Cheriton, came to
+live with me. I have been made sensible, by her sweet and gracious
+presence, that my life before had been very grim and solitary, and I
+determined that it should be so no more. I also felt that while she was
+spared to me it would be a happiness and a benefit to her to have some
+young life about the house; to have, in short, some young and sweet
+woman, who could be her companion in a hundred ways that would not be
+possible for a solitary bachelor like myself.
+
+"With these thoughts in my mind, I naturally turned to the young women
+directly connected with me,--to the daughters of my brothers. I had
+never seen any of them; troubles into which it is not necessary for me
+to enter had made me withdraw until lately from all society, and I had
+not felt able to respond to the kind invitations sent me from time to
+time to visit one brother or another. I conceived the plan of sending
+for you three cousins to spend the summer with me, with the idea that at
+the end of the time I might ask one of you--the one who should seem most
+contented, and who should be best suited to a quiet, country
+life--to--a--to remain longer. This was my first plan. Perhaps it might
+have been better if I had adhered to it; but I subsequently modified it,
+not without a good deal of thought. It would be dull for you, I
+reflected--_triste_, as Rita would say,--here with me. A strange uncle,
+an elderly man, unused to young people, could not fail to be a constant
+check, a constant restraint upon gay and youthful spirits. I wanted you
+to be happy, so I decided to efface myself for a time, to let you have
+the home of your fathers for your own, unhampered by the presence of
+its owner."
+
+Margaret made a motion of eager remonstrance, but her uncle checked her
+with raised hand.
+
+"One moment, my dear! I now come to John Strong."
+
+Rita raised her eyes to his, full of proud defiance.
+
+"I deceived you!" he went on, answering her look. "I now think it was
+wrong, and Mrs. Cheriton, I ought to add, was opposed to the plan. But
+in the first place my presence here was necessary for many reasons; and
+in the second place I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you as you
+really were, not constrained or on good behaviour, or in any way changed
+from your own true selves. I think I succeeded."
+
+There was a moment's silence, which none of the girls dared to break.
+
+"My name is John Strong Montfort. I have been in the habit of spending a
+part of every day among my plants and flowers, for reasons of health and
+pleasure. It was simple enough for me to go from my private rooms to the
+garden, to use the private staircase which--a--with which you are
+familiar,"--Peggy winced and Margaret blushed, but Rita continued her
+direct gaze at her uncle and gave no sign,--"and to pass (by a way that
+has not yet been discovered) to and from the White Rooms. I intended to
+keep up this little farce for a few weeks only, but somehow the time has
+slipped by, and each day has brought you some new occupation which I was
+loath to interrupt. Lately, I confess, there has been a new incentive to
+secrecy, and perhaps--Rita--perhaps I may have been boy enough, old as I
+am, to enjoy my own little conspiracy. It is over; the play is played
+out. I have already made my peace with Margaret, and I think Peggy is
+prepared to accept my explanation. What do you say?"
+
+Rita had followed every word with breathless attention, her colour
+coming and going, her eyes growing momently brighter. Now, at this
+direct appeal, she rose and flung out her arms with the dramatic gesture
+so familiar to two of her hearers.
+
+"I say?" she repeated. "I say it was magnificent! It was superb!
+Marguerite, do I exaggerate? It was _inspired_! My uncle, I am prepared
+to adore you!"
+
+Mr. Montfort looked alarmed, but pleased. Rita went on, glowing with
+enthusiasm.
+
+"It was perfectly conceived, perfectly carried out! Ah, why were you not
+on my side? Together, you and I, we could have done--everything!"
+
+"You did not ask me, my dear!" said Mr. Montfort dryly. There was that
+in his look that made Rita blush at last. But in her present mood she
+could bear anything.
+
+"I beg again your pardon!" she cried. "Uncle, this time I beg for my own
+self pardon, of my own will. I was bad, wicked, abominable! Marguerite
+was right; she is always right! I kneel to you in penitence!"
+
+And she would have knelt down, then and there, if her uncle had not
+stopped her hastily and positively.
+
+"Give me a kiss instead, my dear!" he said. "We have had heroics enough
+for one day, and we must come down to plain common sense. Rita, Peggy,
+Margaret,--my three Margaret Montforts,--I wish and mean to love you
+all." He stooped and kissed each girl on the forehead; but he lingered
+by Margaret's side, and laid his hand on her hair with a silent gesture
+which held a blessing in it.
+
+"Margaret, you must rest now!" he said with kind authority. "Rita, we
+have left your brother and cousin too long alone. Come with me, and let
+us see what we can do to make them forget their untoward introduction to
+Fernley House."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+FAREWELL.
+
+
+The days that followed were merry ones at Fernley House. Mr. Montfort
+insisted on treating both the young Cubans as his nephews, and found
+them, as he said, very pleasant lads. Carlos had something of Rita's
+fire, but with it a good share of common sense that kept him from folly.
+Fernando was a mild and gentle youth, with nothing passionate about him
+save his moustache, which curled with ferocity. His large, dark eyes
+were soft and melting, his smile pleased and apologetic; but Rita
+persisted in considering him a fire-eater of the most incendiary type,
+and enjoyed this view so much that no one had the heart to undeceive
+her. Altogether, the two lads made a charming addition to the party, and
+no one was in a hurry to break it up. Rita was to return to Cuba with
+her brother, but Carlos showed a most thoughtful unwillingness to hasten
+his sister's departure. Peggy's flaxen hair and blue eyes had been a
+revelation to the young man, accustomed to dark beauties all his life,
+and he found "Cosine Paygi" a charming companion. They were excellent
+friends, and when Rita and Fernando sighed and rolled their eyes (as
+they were very fond of doing), Peggy and Carlos laughed.
+
+Margaret was still kept a little quiet by her hands, though the blisters
+were rapidly healing. The other four scampered here and there, playing
+hide and seek in the house, straying through the garden, dancing,
+singing, from morning to night. Margaret was always at hand to welcome
+them when they came in, to listen and laugh, or sympathise, as the case
+might demand. She was happy, too, in her own way, but she found herself
+wondering, as she had wondered before, whether she were seventeen or
+thirty-seven, and there was no doubt in her mind that Uncle John was
+nearer her in age than any of the others. Her heart was full of quiet
+happiness, for this dear uncle had asked her if she would stay with him,
+would make her home here at Fernley with him and Aunt Faith. She felt
+as if nothing in the world could have given her such happiness, and she
+shook her head, smiling, at Rita's violent protestations that she must
+come to Cuba, and at Peggy's equally earnest prayers that she would come
+out with her to the Ranch.
+
+"Some day!" was all she could be brought to say, when her cousins hung
+about her with affection whose sincerity she could not doubt.
+
+"Some day, dear girls, when Uncle John can come with me. As long as he
+needs me here, here I stay!"
+
+And Peggy would pout and shake her shoulders, and Rita would fling away
+and call her an iceberg, a snow-queen, with marble for a heart; and two
+minutes after they would both be waltzing through the hall like wild
+creatures, calling on Margaret to observe how beautifully the boys were
+learning the new step.
+
+The young men had been taken to visit Mrs. Cheriton, and came away so
+deeply smitten that they could talk of nothing else for some time. Rita
+and Peggy opened their young eyes very wide when Carlos declared she was
+the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and Fernando responded with
+fervour:
+
+"She eess a _go_dess! the wairld _con_tains not of soche."
+
+But the goddess could not dance, nor play "I spy!" and the girls soon
+had it their own way again.
+
+And so the day came when the dancing and playing must stop. The day
+came, and the hour came; and a group, half sad, half joyful, was
+gathered on the stone veranda, while White Eagle stood ready at the foot
+of the steps, with William, waiting to drive the four travellers to the
+ferry. Four; for Peggy was to be met in New York by a friend and
+neighbour of her father's who was to take her home.
+
+Peggy's eyes were red with weeping. Her hat was on wrong side before,
+and her veil was tied in a hard knot, as it had been on the night of her
+arrival; but Peggy did not care. She submitted while Margaret set the
+hat straight; then clung round her neck, and sobbed till Carlos was
+quite distracted. "Margaret, I--I want to tell you!" she whispered
+through her tears. "I am going to be a different girl at home now. I am
+going to--try--to remember the way you do things, and to be a little
+like you. Oh, Margaret, only a little! but I want you to think that I am
+trying, and--and--I will remember about my buttons--and--have my boots
+blacked. Oh, Margaret, you have been so good to me, and I do love you
+so, and now I--am--going away to leave you!"
+
+Margaret was in tears, too, by this time, seventeen having got the upper
+hand of thirty-seven completely.
+
+"My dear!" she said. "My dear, darling little Peggy, I shall miss
+you,--oh, so much! And dear, you have taught me as much as I have taught
+you, and more. Think of the bog! oh, Peggy, think of the bog! and the
+gutter-spout! I shall never be such a coward again, and all because of
+you, Peggy. And we will write to each other, dear, every week, won't we?
+and we will always be sisters, just the same as own sisters. Good-bye,
+my little girl! good-bye, my dear little girl!"
+
+The sobbing Peggy was lifted into the carriage; and now it was Rita's
+turn to cling about Margaret with fondest words and caresses.
+
+"Marguerite, we part!" she said. "_Très chère_, how can I leave thee?
+I--I have learned much since I came here. We are different, yes! but I
+know that it is lovely to be good, though I am not good myself. You
+would not have me good, Marguerite? It would destroy my personnel! But I
+love goodness, and thee, the spirit of it. Don't shake your head, for I
+will not submit to it. You are good, I tell you,--good like my mother,
+my angel. You will think of me, _chérie_?--you will think of your
+Spanish Rita, and warm your kind, cool heart with the thought? Yes, I
+know you will. You will be happy here with the uncle. Yes! he's like
+you,--you will suit each other! For me, it would be death in two weeks;
+yet he is noble, he has the grand air. _Très chère_, I have left for you
+the bracelet with the rubies; it is on your toilet-table. You admired
+it,--it was yours from that moment, but I waited, for I knew that one
+day we must part. They are drops of blood, Marguerite, from my
+heart,--Rita's heart,--which beats ever for you. _Adios, mi alma!_"
+
+All this was poured into Margaret's ear with such rapidity and fire that
+she could make no reply; could only embrace her cousin warmly, and
+promise constant thought and frequent letters.
+
+And now Carlos was bending to kiss her hand, rather to her confusion. He
+regarded her with awe and veneration, and murmured that she was a lily
+of goodness. Fernando was saluting her with three bows, each more
+magnificent than the other. Mr. Montfort kissed the girls warmly, shook
+hands cordially with the young men.
+
+Hands were kissed, handkerchiefs waved. Peggy, drowned in tears, looked
+back to utter a last farewell.
+
+"Good-bye, Margaret! Good-bye, darling Margaret! Don't forget us!"
+
+They were gone, and Margaret stood on the veranda and wept, her heart
+longing for her mates; but presently she dried her eyes, and looked up
+to greet her uncle with a smile.
+
+"Dear girls!" she said; "it has been so good, so good, to have them and
+know them. You have given us all a great happiness, Uncle John. And now
+they are going home to their own people, and that is well, too."
+
+"And you are staying at home," said John Montfort, "with your own
+people. This is your home, Margaret, as long as it is mine. I cannot be
+your father, dear, but you must let me come as near as you can, for we
+have only one another,--you and Aunt Faith and I. You will stay, always,
+will you not, to be our light and comfort? I don't feel as if I could
+ever let you go again."
+
+"Oh," said Margaret, and her eyes ran over again with happy tears, "Oh,
+if I can really be a comfort, Uncle, I shall be so glad--so glad! but I
+know so little! I am--"
+
+But Uncle John had only one word to say, and that was the one word of an
+old song that he loved, and that his mother had sung to him when he was
+a little lad in the nursery:
+
+    "Weel I ken my ain lassie;
+    Kind love is in her e'e!"
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22293-8.txt or 22293-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/9/22293/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22293-8.zip b/22293-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5bd8657
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-8.zip
diff --git a/22293-h.zip b/22293-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..40828cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h.zip
diff --git a/22293-h/22293-h.htm b/22293-h/22293-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a265e08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/22293-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,5218 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards.
+    </title>
+  <style type="text/css">
+    /*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+    <!--
+    p                 {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;}
+    body              {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    h2                {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; clear: both;}
+    h3                {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: normal; clear: both;}
+    a                 {text-decoration: none;}
+    .smcap            {font-variant: small-caps;}
+    .blockquot        {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;}
+    table p           {text-align: center; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;}
+    h2.toc            {margin-top: 1em;}
+    .caption          {font-size: 80%;}
+    .tight            {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;}
+    .rt6em            {text-align:right; margin-right:6em;}
+    .rt4em            {text-align:right; margin-right:4em;}
+    .rt2em            {text-align:right; margin-right:2em;}
+    .figcenter        {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+    .center           {text-align:center;}
+    .pagenum          {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: x-small;
+                      font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; font-style: normal;
+                      text-indent: 0; color: silver; background-color: inherit;}
+    a.pagenum:after   {border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 3px; content: attr(title);}
+    h1                {text-align: center; clear: both;}
+    hr.major          {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;}
+    h2.loi            {margin-top: 1em;}
+    hr.dashed         {width: 100%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border:none; border-bottom:1px dashed;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+  </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Three Margarets
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Ethelred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2007 [EBook #22293]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-000" id="illus-000"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-cvr.jpg" alt="" title="" width="300" /><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-fpc.jpg" alt="UNCLE JOHN AND THE YOUNG CUBANS." title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">UNCLE JOHN AND THE YOUNG CUBANS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<table summary="" style="border-collapse:collapse; border: 1px solid black;">
+<tr>
+    <td style="text-align:center; font-size: 1.2em; border-bottom:1px solid black; padding:.2em .6em .2em .6em;">
+        BOOKS FOR GIRLS<br />
+        By Laura E. Richards
+    </td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td style="text-align:center; font-size: 1.0em; border-bottom:1px solid black; padding:.2em .6em .2em .6em;">
+        The MARGARET SERIES<br />
+        <div style='font-size:smaller;'>
+            <p class='tight'>Three Margarets</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Margaret Montfort</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Peggy</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Rita</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Fernley House</p>
+        </div>
+    </td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td style="text-align:center; font-size: 1.0em; border-bottom:1px solid black; padding:.2em .6em .2em .6em;">
+    The HILDEGARDE SERIES<br />
+        <div style='font-size:smaller'>
+            <p class='tight'>Queen Hildegarde</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Hildegarde's Holiday</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Hildegarde's Home</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Hildegarde's Neighbors</p>
+            <p class='tight'>Hildegarde's Harvest</p>
+        </div>
+    </td>
+</tr>
+<tr style="border-top:1px solid black; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em;">
+    <td style='padding:.2em .6em .2em .6em;'>
+        <p style='font-size:larger'>
+            DANA ESTES &amp; COMPANY<br />
+            Publishers<br />
+            Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+        </p>
+    </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<table style="margin: auto; border: silver 1px dotted; width:25em" summary=""><tr><td>
+<p style=" font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:2em;">THREE MARGARETS</p>
+<p style=" font-size:0.8;">BY</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.8;">LAURA E. RICHARDS</p>
+<p style=" font-size:0.8;">AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY,"</p>
+<p style=" font-size:0.8; margin-bottom:7em;">"QUEEN HILDEGARDE," ETC.</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.1em;">Illustrated by</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.1em; margin-bottom:5em;">ETHELRED B. BARRY</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.2em;">BOSTON</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.4em;">DANA ESTES &amp; COMPANY</p>
+<p style=" font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:2em;">PUBLISHERS</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<p class='center'><i>Copyright, 1897</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Estes and Lauriat</span></p>
+<p class='center'>Colonial Press:<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<h2 class="toc"><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents" style="font-variant:small-caps; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<col style="width:15%;" />
+<col style="width:5%;"  />
+<col style="width:70%;" />
+<col style="width:10%;" />
+<tr>
+    <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+    <td></td>
+    <td></td>
+    <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">I.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">The Arrival</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#THE_ARRIVAL_110">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">II.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">First Thoughts</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#FIRST_THOUGHTS_366">21</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">III.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">The White Lady of Fernley</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#THE_WHITE_LADY_OF_FERNLEY_697">36</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">IV.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Confidence</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CONFIDENCE_993">51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">V.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">The Peat-bog</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#THE_PEATBOG_1283">65</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">VI.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">The Family Chest</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#THE_FAMILY_CHEST_1575">81</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">VII.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">The Garret</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#THE_GARRET_1930">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">VIII.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Cuba Libre</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#CUBA_LIBRE_2239">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">IX.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Day by Day</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#DAY_BY_DAY_2510">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">X.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Looking Backward</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#LOOKING_BACKWARD_2831">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">XI.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Heroes and Heroines</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#HEROES_AND_HEROINES_3131">163</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">XII.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">In the Saddle</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#IN_THE_SADDLE_3612">187</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">XIII.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">In the Night</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#IN_THE_NIGHT_3998">208</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">XIV.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Explanations</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#EXPLANATIONS_4221">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align="right">XV.</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align="left">Farewell</td>
+  <td align="right"><a href="#FAREWELL_4520">237</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<h2 class="loi"><a name="Illustrations" id="Illustrations"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
+<table border="0"  width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations" style="font-variant:small-caps; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<col style="width:80%;" />
+<col style="width:20%;" />
+<tr><td></td><td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Uncle John and the Young Cubans</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-001"><span style='font-variant:normal'><i>Frontispiece</i></span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Aunt Faith&#39;S Room</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-002">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Peggy at the Bog</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-003">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">In the Garret</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-004">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">&#34;Cuba Libre&#34;</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-005">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Peggy Writes Home</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-006">143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Horseback</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-007">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Rita&#39;S Apology</td><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#illus-008">227</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<h1>THREE MARGARETS.</h1>
+
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_9" id="page_9" title="9"></a>
+<a name="THE_ARRIVAL_110" id="THE_ARRIVAL_110"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<h3>THE ARRIVAL.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>Long ago and long ago,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>And long ago still,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>There dwelt three merry maidens</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>Upon a distant hill.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 100px'>Christina G. Rossetti.</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>The rain was falling fast. It was a pleasant summer rain that plashed
+gently on the leaves of the great elms and locusts, and tinkled
+musically in the roadside puddles. Less musical was its sound as it
+drummed on the top of the great landau which was rolling along the
+avenue leading to Fernley House; but the occupants of the carriage paid
+little attention to it, each being buried in her own thoughts. The night
+was dark, and the carriage-lamps threw an uncertain gleam on the three
+figures leaning back in their<a class="pagenum" name="page_10" id="page_10" title="10"></a> corners, muffled and silent. The avenue
+was long,&mdash;interminably long, it seemed to one of the three travellers;
+and finally the silence so oppressed her that she determined to conquer
+her shyness and break it.</p>
+
+<p>"What a <i>very</i> long avenue!" she said, speaking in a low, sweet voice.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. She hesitated a moment, and then added timidly,
+"Don't you think that, as we are cousins, we might introduce ourselves
+and make acquaintance? My name is Margaret Montfort."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, so is mine!" exclaimed the traveller opposite her. "And mine!"
+added the third, from the further corner.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of the second speaker sounded as if it might be hearty, and as
+if only awkwardness gave it a sullen tone. The third spoke with a soft,
+languid utterance and the faintest shade of a foreign accent.</p>
+
+<p>"How strange!" exclaimed the first Margaret Montfort. "Of course I knew
+that we had the same surname, as our fathers were brothers; but that we
+should all three be named&mdash;and yet it is not strange, after all!" she
+added. "Our<a class="pagenum" name="page_11" id="page_11" title="11"></a> grandmother was Margaret, and it was natural that we should
+be given her name. But how shall we manage? We cannot say First, Second,
+and Third Margaret, as they do on the stage."</p>
+
+<p>"I am never called anything but Peggy," said the second girl, still in a
+half-sullen, half-timid tone.</p>
+
+<p>And "My home name is Rita," murmured the third reluctantly; and she
+added something in an undertone about "short acquaintance," which the
+first Margaret did not choose to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how pretty!" she said cordially. "Then I may call you Peggy and
+Rita? About myself"&mdash;she stopped and laughed&mdash;"I hardly know what to
+say, for I have always been called Margaret, since I was a baby."</p>
+
+<p>"But one of us might as well <i>be</i> Margaret," answered Peggy. "And
+somehow, your voice sounds as if you looked like it. If this road were
+ever coming to an end, we might see."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I do see!" cried Margaret, leaning forward to look out of the
+window. "I see the lights! I see the house! We are really here at last!"</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, the carriage drove up before a<a class="pagenum" name="page_12" id="page_12" title="12"></a> long building twinkling
+with lights, and stopped at a broad flight of steps, leading to a
+stone-paved veranda. As the coachman opened the carriage-door, the door
+of the house opened too, and a cheerful light streamed out upon the
+three weary travellers. Two staid waiting-women, in spotless caps and
+aprons, were waiting to receive them as they came up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, young ladies, if you please!" said the elder of the two. "You
+must be tired with your long drive. This is the library; and will you
+rest here a while, or will you be shown your rooms at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Margaret, "let us stay here a little while! What
+do you say, cousins?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said Peggy. The girl whose home name was Rita had already
+thrown herself down in an armchair, and seemed to think no reply
+necessary.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, miss," said the dignified waiting-woman, addressing herself
+markedly to Margaret. "Susan will come in ten minutes to show you the
+rooms, miss, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I am Elizabeth,
+miss, if you<a class="pagenum" name="page_13" id="page_13" title="13"></a> should want me. The bell is here in the corner."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret thanked her with a cordial smile, the other two never glancing
+in her direction, and the woman withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>"Just ten minutes," said Margaret, turning to her cousins, "to make
+acquaintance in, and find out what we all look like! Suppose we begin by
+taking off our wraps. How delightful the little fire is, even if we are
+in the middle of June. Let me help you, Peggy!"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy was fumbling at her veil, which was tied in a hard knot; but in a
+few minutes everything was off, and the three Margaret Montforts stood
+silent, gazing at each other.</p>
+
+<p>Nearest the fire stood the girl who was called Peggy. She was apparently
+about sixteen, plump and fair, with a profusion of blonde hair which
+looked as if it were trying to fly away. Her round, rosy cheeks, blue
+eyes, and pouting lips gave her a cherubic contour which was comically
+at variance with her little tilted nose; but she was pretty, in spite of
+her singularly ill-devised and ill-fitting costume of green flannel.</p>
+
+<p>Reclining in the armchair next her, the<a class="pagenum" name="page_14" id="page_14" title="14"></a> Margaret who was called Rita
+was a startling contrast to the rosy Peggy. She was a year older, slight
+and graceful, her simple black gown fitting like a glove and saying
+"Paris" in every seam. Her hair was absolutely black, her eyes large and
+dark, her delicate features regular and finely cut; but the beautiful
+face wore an expression of discontent, and there were two fine vertical
+lines between the eyebrows. Her complexion had the clear pallor of a
+Cape Jessamine.</p>
+
+<p>Facing these two, and looking with thoughtful eyes from one to the
+other, stood the girl whom we have spoken of as the first Margaret. She
+was seventeen, within two months of the age of her dark-eyed cousin.
+Lacking the brilliant colouring of the other two, her face had its own
+charm. Her eyes were dark gray, with violet shades in them, deepened by
+the long and heavy black lashes. The faint tinge of colour in her smooth
+cheeks was that of the wild rose; her wavy chestnut hair had glints of
+gold here and there in it, and though her nose was nothing in
+particular, she had the prettiest mouth in the world, and a dimple
+beside it. In conclusion,<a class="pagenum" name="page_15" id="page_15" title="15"></a> she was dressed in dark blue, simply, yet
+tastefully too.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Peggy, breaking the silence with an embarrassed giggle, "I
+hope we shall know each other the next time we meet."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret blushed. "I fear I have been staring rudely!" she said. "But I
+have never had any cousins before,&mdash;never seen any, that is, and I am
+really so glad to know you both! Let us shake hands, girls, and try to
+be friends!"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke so pleasantly that Peggy's plump hand and Rita's delicate
+white fingers were at once extended. Holding them in her own, Margaret
+hesitated a moment, and then, bending forward, kissed both girls timidly
+on the cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"Our fathers were own brothers," she said. "We must try to be fond of
+each other. And now," she added, "let us all tell our tells, as the
+children say. Rita, you shall begin. Tell us about yourself and your
+home, and anything else that you will."</p>
+
+<p>Rita settled herself comfortably in her chair, and looked meditatively
+at the tip of her little boot.<a class="pagenum" name="page_16" id="page_16" title="16"></a></p>
+
+<p>"My home," she said, "is in Havana. My mother was a Spaniard, a San
+Real. My father is Richard Montfort. My mother died three years ago, and
+my father has lately married again, a girl of my own age. You may
+imagine that I do not find home particularly attractive now, so I was
+glad to accept my Uncle John's invitation to spend the summer here. As I
+have money in my own right, I was at liberty to do as I pleased; nor in
+truth did my father object, but the contrary. I have never seen my
+uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I!" "Nor I!" exclaimed the other two.</p>
+
+<p>"But I received this note from him a month ago."</p>
+
+<p>She produced a note from her reticule, and read as follows.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Niece</span>:</p>
+
+<p>The thought has occurred to me that it would be well for you to
+make some acquaintance with the home of your fathers. I therefore
+invite you to spend the coming summer here, with the daughters of
+my brothers James and Roger, to whom I have extended a similar
+invitation. Business will unhappily prevent me from receiving you
+in person, but my cousin and yours, Mrs. Cheriton, who resides at
+Fernley, will pay you every attention.<a class="pagenum" name="page_17" id="page_17" title="17"></a></p>
+
+<p>Trusting that this plan will meet with your approval and that of
+your father,</p>
+
+<p class='tight rt6em'>I am, my dear niece,</p>
+<p class='tight rt4em'>Your affectionate uncle,</p>
+<p class='tight rt2em'><span class="smcap">John Montfort</span>."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Well, I never!" cried Peggy, drawing a long breath. "Why, it's word for
+word like my note."</p>
+
+<p>"And like mine!" said Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>The three notes were laid side by side, and proved to be exactly alike,
+even to the brief flourish under the signature; with the one difference
+that in Margaret's the words "and that of your father," were omitted.</p>
+
+<p>"He must be a very methodical man!" said Margaret thoughtfully. "Isn't
+it strange that none of us has ever seen him? And yet one can understand
+how it has been. The other brothers, our fathers, left home when they
+were quite young,&mdash;that is what Papa has told me,&mdash;and soon formed ties
+elsewhere. Uncle John stayed with Grandfather till he died; then he went
+abroad, and was gone many years; and since he came back, he has lived
+here alone. I suppose he has grown a recluse, and does not<a class="pagenum" name="page_18" id="page_18" title="18"></a> care to see
+people. I know Papa often and often begged him to come and make us a
+visit, and once or twice the time was actually set; but each time
+something happened to prevent his coming, and he never did come. I think
+he would have come last year, when dear Papa died, but he had had some
+accident, and had injured his foot so that he could not walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Pa read us the letter you wrote him then," said Peggy, with an awkward
+attempt at condolence. "He said he thought you must be a nice girl."</p>
+
+<p>The tears came quickly to Margaret's eyes, and she turned her head to
+hide them. Peggy instantly plunged into a description of her nine
+brothers and sisters, and their life on the great Western farm where
+they lived; but she was hardly under way when the demure Susan tapped at
+the door, and said with gentle firmness that she had come to show the
+young ladies their rooms.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden clutching of hats, cloaks, and bags, and the next
+moment the three maidens were ascending the wide staircase, casting
+looks of curiosity and wonderment about them.<a class="pagenum" name="page_19" id="page_19" title="19"></a></p>
+
+<p>"What beautiful twisted balusters!" whispered Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"And such queer old pictures!" said Peggy. "My! How they stare!
+Wondering who we are, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>Arrived in the wide upper hall, Susan threw open the doors of three
+rooms, two side by side, the third opposite.</p>
+
+<p>"This is yours, Miss Montfort," she said. "This is the young lady's from
+the South, and this the other young lady's. Mr. Montfort arranged it all
+before he left."</p>
+
+<p>"How kind and thoughtful!" cried Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"How precise and formal!" murmured Rita.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy said nothing, but stared with round eyes. These rooms were not
+like the great whitewashed chamber at home, where she and her three
+sisters slept in iron bedsteads. These rooms were not large, but oh, so
+pretty and cosy! In each was an open fireplace, with a tiny fire
+burning,&mdash;"just for looks," Susan explained. Each contained a pretty
+brass bedstead, a comfortable chair or two, and curtains and cushions of
+flowered chintz. Rita's chintz showed deep red poppies on a pale buff
+ground;<a class="pagenum" name="page_20" id="page_20" title="20"></a> Peggy's was blue, with buttercups and daisies scattered over
+it; while Margaret's&mdash;oh, Margaret's was not chintz after all, but
+old-fashioned white dimity, with a bewilderment of tufts, and
+ball-fringe, and tassels. Candles were lighted on the trim
+dressing-tables; everything was spotless, fresh, and inviting, and the
+three tired girls sank each into her soft-cushioned easy chair with a
+delightful sense of being at home.</p>
+
+<p>"The tea-bell will ring in half an hour, if you please," said Susan, and
+she closed the three doors.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_21" id="page_21" title="21"></a>
+<a name="FIRST_THOUGHTS_366" id="FIRST_THOUGHTS_366"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+<h3>FIRST THOUGHTS.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"The eggs and the ham,</td></tr>
+<tr><td>And the strawberry jam;</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The rollicking bun,</td></tr>
+<tr><td>And the gay Sally Lunn."</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>"Ting! ting-a-ling!" the silver tinkle sounded cheerfully. Margaret was
+the first to leave her room, punctuality being the third virtue of her
+creed. She had changed her travelling-dress for a pretty dark red
+cashmere, which became her well; but Peggy, who came running down a
+moment later, still wore her ill-fitting frock of green flannel, the
+scant attractions of which were not enhanced by a soiled linen collar,
+which she had forgotten to change. The flyaway locks were indeed braided
+together, but the heavy braid was rough and uneven.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have changed your dress!" she cried, seeing Margaret. "How
+pretty you look! I didn't have time to do anything. Say," she<a class="pagenum" name="page_22" id="page_22" title="22"></a> added,
+lowering her voice, "I think you are sweet, but I just hate that other
+girl. <i>We</i> sha'n't be fond of each other, you may be sure of that!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Peggy!" said Margaret, in gentle remonstrance. "You must not
+judge a person on ten minutes' acquaintance. I am sure I hope you and
+Rita will be very good friends. You certainly must admire her beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she's pretty enough!" rejoined Peggy; "but I think she's perfectly
+horrid!&mdash;there now! Stuck-up and conceited, and looking at other people
+as if they were stone posts. And I am <i>not</i> a stone post, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly don't look like one," said Margaret, laughing; "nor feel
+like one," she added, putting her arm around her cousin's plump waist.</p>
+
+<p>"But come! here is Elizabeth waiting to show us the dining-room.
+Elizabeth, we have had a good rest, and we are <i>so</i> hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"This way, miss, if you please," said the grave Elizabeth. And she led
+the way across the hall. The dining-room was a pleasant square room,
+with crimson curtains closely<a class="pagenum" name="page_23" id="page_23" title="23"></a> drawn. There was no cloth on the dark
+table, which shone like a mirror, reflecting the blaze of the candles in
+mellow points of light. At the head stood a shining silver tea-service
+and a Dresden chocolate-pot, surrounded by the prettiest cups and
+saucers that ever were seen; and a supper was laid out which seemed to
+have been specially planned for three hungry girls. Everything good, and
+plenty of it.</p>
+
+<p>"My!" whispered Peggy, "isn't this fine? But how funny to have no
+table-cloth! We always have a red one at supper."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" said Margaret. "Papa always liked the bare table."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take the head of the table, miss?" asked Elizabeth. "I have
+set your place here, and Miss&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Peggy's," suggested Margaret gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, miss! Miss Peggy's at the side here."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Margaret. "We shall sit just where you put us,
+Elizabeth. And Miss Rita will sit opposite me and carve the chicken. Oh,
+here she is! Rita, are you accomplished in the art of carving?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_24" id="page_24" title="24"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rita, who now came gliding in, shook her head as she took the seat
+appointed her. "I have never attempted it," she said, "and don't think I
+care to try, thanks! Take this to the sideboard and carve it," she
+added, addressing Elizabeth in a tone of careless command. The woman
+obeyed in silence; but the quick colour sprang to Margaret's cheek, and
+she looked as much distressed as if the rude speech had been addressed
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy stared. "Don't they say 'please' in Havana?" she said in a loud
+whisper to Margaret. But Margaret rattled the tea-cups, and pretended
+not to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take tea, Rita, or chocolate?" she asked quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Chocolate, please," replied her cousin languidly. "I wonder if it will
+be fit to drink? One hears that everything of that sort is so
+frightfully adulterated in this country."</p>
+
+<p>"It looks delicious," said Margaret, pouring out the smooth, brown
+liquid. "Do you see, girls, what lovely cups these are? Look, Rita, they
+are all different! I shall give you this delicate pink one, for it just
+matches your gown.<a class="pagenum" name="page_25" id="page_25" title="25"></a> Such a pretty gown!" she added admiringly, glancing
+at the pale rose-coloured silk and rich lace that set off the clear
+pallor of Rita's complexion in a wonderful way.</p>
+
+<p>"It is only a tea-gown!" said the latter carelessly. "I have brought no
+clothes to speak of. Yes, the cup does match it rather well, doesn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Peggy," said Margaret, "shall have this blue darling with the
+gold arabesques. Surely, anything would taste good out of such
+cups,&mdash;take care! Oh, my dear!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sprang up and tried to recapture the cup which had just left
+her hand. But it was too late! Peggy had taken it quickly, grasping the
+edge of the saucer. Naturally, the saucer tilted up, the cup tilted
+over, and a stream of chocolate poured over her hand and arm, and
+descended into her lap, where it formed a neat brown pool with green
+flannel banks. Moreover, an auxiliary stream was meandering over the
+table, making rapid progress towards the rose-coloured silk and white
+lace.</p>
+
+<p>With an angry exclamation of <i>"B&ecirc;te!"</i> Rita pushed her chair back out of
+danger. Poor<a class="pagenum" name="page_26" id="page_26" title="26"></a> Peggy, after the first terrified "Ow!" as the hot
+chocolate deluged her, sat still, apparently afraid of making matters
+worse if she stirred. Margaret, after ringing the bell violently to call
+Elizabeth, promptly checked the threatening rivulet on the table with
+her napkin, and then, seizing Peggy's, proceeded to sop up the pool as
+well as she could.</p>
+
+<p>"I never!" gasped the unhappy girl. "Why, I didn't do a thing! it just
+tipped right over!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is too bad!" said Margaret, as sympathetically as she could, though
+her cousin did look so funny, it was hard to keep from smiling. "Oh,
+here is Elizabeth! Elizabeth, we have had an accident, and I fear Miss
+Peggy's dress is quite ruined. Can you think of anything to take the
+stains out?"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth surveyed the scene with a practised eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Hot soapsuds will be the best thing," she said. "If the young lady will
+come up with me at once, and take the frock off, I will see what can be
+done."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do go with Elizabeth, dear!" urged<a class="pagenum" name="page_27" id="page_27" title="27"></a> Margaret. "Nothing can be done
+till the dress is off."</p>
+
+<p>And poor Peggy went off, hanging her head and looking very miserable.</p>
+
+<p>Rita, as soon as her dress was out of danger, was able to see the affair
+in another light, and as her cousin left the room burst into a peal of
+silvery laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hush!" cried Margaret. "She will hear you, Rita!"</p>
+
+<p>"And if she does?" replied Rita, drawing her chair up to the table
+again, and sipping her chocolate leisurely. "Acrobats expect to be
+laughed at, and certainly this was a most astonishing <i>tour de force</i>.
+Seriously, my dear," she added, seeing Margaret's troubled look, "how
+are we to take our Western cousin, if we do not treat her as a comic
+monstrosity? Is it possible that she is a Montfort? I shall call her
+Cousin Calibana, I think!"</p>
+
+<p>She nibbled daintily at a macaroon, and went on: "It is a thing to be
+thankful for that the green frock is probably hopelessly ruined. I am
+quite sure it would have affected my nerves seriously if I had been
+obliged to see it every day.<a class="pagenum" name="page_28" id="page_28" title="28"></a> Do they perhaps cut dresses with a
+mowing-machine in the West?" and she laughed again, a laugh so rippling
+and musical that it was a pity it was not good-natured.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret listened in troubled silence. What could she say that would not
+at once alienate this foreign cousin, who seemed now inclined to
+friendliness with her? And yet she could not let poor Peggy go
+undefended. At last she said gently, yet with meaning, "Dear Rita, you
+make me tremble for myself. If you are so very severe in your judgments,
+who can hope to pass uncriticised?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, <i>ma cousine</i>!" cried Rita. "But there is no question of you; you
+are of one's own kind! You are altogether charming. Surely you must see
+that this young person is simply impossible. Impossible!" she repeated
+with decision. "There is no other word for it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Margaret, bravely, "I do not see that, Rita! She is shy and
+awkward, and I should think very young for her age. But she has an
+honest, good face, and I like her. Besides," she added, unconsciously
+repeating the argument she had used in defending Rita herself<a class="pagenum" name="page_29" id="page_29" title="29"></a> against
+Peggy's animadversions, "it is absurd to judge a person on half an
+hour's acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, half an hour!" said Rita lightly; "half a lifetime! My judgments,
+<i>ch&egrave;re cousine</i>, are made at the first glance, and remain fixed."</p>
+
+<p>"And are they always right?" asked Margaret, half amused and half vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"They are right for me!" said Rita, nodding her pretty head. "That is
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>She pushed her chair back, and coming to Margaret's side, laid her hand
+lightly on her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ch&egrave;re cousine</i>," she said, in a caressing tone, "you are so charming,
+I do hope you are not good. It is detestable to be good! Avoid it, <i>tr&egrave;s
+ch&egrave;re</i>! believe me, it is impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are all the people in Havana bad?" asked Margaret, returning the
+caress, and resisting the impulse to shake the pretty, foolish speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"All!" replied Rita cheerfully; "enchanting, delightful people; all bad!
+Oh, of course when one is old, that is another matter! Then one
+begins&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Was your mother bad, Rita?" asked Margaret quietly.<a class="pagenum" name="page_30" id="page_30" title="30"></a></p>
+
+<p>"My mother was an angel, do you hear? a saint!" cried the girl. And
+suddenly, without the slightest warning, she burst into a tropical
+passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would break.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Margaret! Decidedly this was not a pleasant evening for her. By the
+time she had soothed Rita, and tucked her up on the library sofa, with a
+fan and a vinaigrette, Peggy had come down again, in a state of
+aggrieved dejection, to finish her supper. A wrapper of dingy brown
+replaced the green frock; she too had been crying, and her eyes were red
+and swollen.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was at home!" she said sullenly, as she ate her chicken and
+buttered her roll. "I wish I hadn't come here. I knew I should have a
+horrid time, but Pa made me come."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't say that, Peggy, dear!" said Margaret. "You are tired
+to-night, and homesick, that is all; and it was very unlucky about the
+dress, of course. To-morrow, when you have had a good night's rest, you
+will feel very differently, I know you will. Just think how delightful
+it will be to explore the house, and to roam about the garden, where
+your father and<a class="pagenum" name="page_31" id="page_31" title="31"></a> mine used to play when they were boys. Hasn't your
+father told you about the swing under the great chestnut-trees, and the
+summer-houses, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Peggy, her eyes brightening. "And I was to look in the
+long summer-house for his initials, cut in the roof. Uncle Roger stood
+on Uncle John's shoulders, and Pa on his; and when he was finishing the
+tail of the M, Pa gave such a dig with his knife that he lost his
+balance, and they all tumbled down together; and Pa has the mark of the
+fall now, on his forehead."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret felt that the bad moment had passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about your father, and all of you at home," she said. "Think! I
+have never even seen a picture of Uncle James! He is tall, of course;
+all the Montforts are tall."</p>
+
+<p>"Miles tall," said Peggy; "with broad shoulders, and a big brown beard.
+So jolly, Pa is! He is out on the farm all day, you know, and in the
+evening he sits in the corner and smokes his pipe, and the boys tell him
+what they have been doing, and they talk crops and cattle and pigs by
+the hour together."<a class="pagenum" name="page_32" id="page_32" title="32"></a></p>
+
+<p>"The boys?" inquired Margaret. "Your brothers?"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy nodded, and began to count on her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim, George, Hugh, Max, and Peter, boys; Peggy, Jean, Bessie, Flora,
+and Doris, girls. Oh, dear! I wish they were all here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ten whole cousins!" cried Margaret. "How rich I feel! Now you must tell
+me all about them, Peggy. Is Jim the eldest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eldest and biggest!" replied Peggy, beginning on the frosted cake. "Jim
+is twenty-five, and taller than Pa,&mdash;six feet four in his shoes. He has
+charge of the stock, and spends most of his time on horseback. His horse
+is nearly as big as an elephant, and he rides splendidly. I think you
+would like Jim," she said shyly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I should!" said Margaret heartily. "Who comes next?"</p>
+
+<p>"George," said Peggy. "George isn't very nice, I think; I don't believe
+you'd like him. He has been to college, you know, and he sneers and
+makes fun of the rest of us, and calls us countrified."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was sure that she should not like<a class="pagenum" name="page_33" id="page_33" title="33"></a> George, but she did not say
+so. "He's very clever," continued Peggy, "and Pa is very proud of him. I
+s'pose I might like him better if he didn't tease Hugh, but I can't
+stand that."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Hugh your favourite brother?" Margaret asked softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Hugh is the best of us all. He is lame. Jim and George were
+fighting one day, when he was a little baby, just beginning to walk; and
+somehow, one of them fell back against him and threw him downstairs. He
+hurt his back, and has been lame ever since. Hugh is like an angel,
+somehow. You never saw anybody like Hugh. He does things&mdash;well! Let me
+tell you this that he did. He never gets into rows, but the rest of us
+do, all the time. Jim and George are the worst, and when they are at it,
+you can hear them all over the house. Well, one day Hugh was sick
+upstairs, and they had an awful row. Pa was out, and Ma couldn't do
+anything with them; she never can. Hugh can generally stop them, but
+this time he couldn't go down, you see. I was sitting with him, and I
+saw him getting whiter and whiter. At last he said, 'Peggy, I want
+you&mdash;' and then he<a class="pagenum" name="page_34" id="page_34" title="34"></a> stopped and said, 'No, you are too big. Bring little
+Peter here!' I went and brought Peter, who was about four then. 'Petie,'
+said Hugh, 'take brother's crutch, and go downstairs, and give it to
+Brother Jim and Brother George. Say Hugh sent it.' And then he told me
+to help Petie down with the crutch, but not go into the room. I did peep
+in through the crack, though, and I saw Petie toddle in, dragging the
+crutch, and saw him lay it down between them, and say, 'Brudder Hugh
+send it to big brudders.' They stopped and never said another word, only
+Jim gave a kind of groan. Then he kissed Petie and told him to thank
+Brother Hugh; and he went out, and didn't come back for three days. He
+rides off when he feels bad, and stays away on the farm somewhere till
+he gets over it."</p>
+
+<p>"And George?" asked Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! George just went into his room and sulked," said Peggy. "That's
+<i>his</i> way! I do declare, he's like&mdash;" Here she stopped suddenly, for a
+vision appeared in the doorway. Pale and scornful, with her great dark
+eyes full of cold mockery, Rita stood gazing at them both, her
+rose-coloured draperies floating around her.<a class="pagenum" name="page_35" id="page_35" title="35"></a></p>
+
+<p>"I am truly sorry," she said, "to interrupt this torrent of eloquence. I
+merely wish to say that I am going to bed. Good night, <i>ch&egrave;re
+Marguerite! Senorita Calibana, je vous souhaite le bon soir!</i> Continue,
+I pray you, your thrilling disclosures as long as my cousin's ears can
+contain them!" And with a mocking courtesy she swept away, leaving the
+other two girls with an indefinable sense of guilt and disgrace. Poor
+Peggy! She had been so happy, all her troubles forgotten, pouring out
+her artless recital of home affairs; but now her face darkened, and she
+looked sullen and unhappy again.</p>
+
+<p>"Hateful thing!" she muttered. "I wish she was in Jericho!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Peggy dear!" said Margaret as cheerfully as she could.
+"Rita is very tired, and has a headache. It has been delightful to hear
+about the brothers, and especially about Hugh; but I am sure we ought to
+go to bed too. You must be quite tired out, and I am getting sleepy
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>She kissed her cousin affectionately, and arm in arm they went up the
+great staircase.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_36" id="page_36" title="36"></a>
+<a name="THE_WHITE_LADY_OF_FERNLEY_697" id="THE_WHITE_LADY_OF_FERNLEY_697"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+<h3>THE WHITE LADY OF FERNLEY.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Margaret was waked the next morning by the cheerful and persistent song
+of a robin, which had perched on a twig just outside her window. She had
+gone to bed in a discouraged frame of mind, and dreamed that her two
+cousins had turned into lionesses, and were fighting together over her
+prostrate body; but with the morning light everything seemed to
+brighten, and the robin's song was a good omen.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Robin dear," she said aloud, as she brushed her long hair.
+"I dare say everything will go well after a while, but just now, Robin,
+I do assure you, things have a kittle look."</p>
+
+<p>She was down first, as the night before; but Peggy soon appeared,
+rubbing her eyes and looking still half asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast was ready, and Peggy, at sight of<a class="pagenum" name="page_37" id="page_37" title="37"></a> the omelette and muffins,
+was about to fling herself headlong into her chair; but Margaret held
+her back a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth," she said, hesitating, "is Mrs. Cheriton&mdash;is she not here? I
+see you have put me at the head of the table again."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Cheriton seldom leaves her own rooms, miss," replied Elizabeth.
+"She asked me to say that she would be glad to see the young ladies
+after breakfast. And shall I call the other young lady, Miss Montfort?"</p>
+
+<p>Before Margaret could reply, a clear voice was heard calling from above,
+in impatient tones:</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth! somebody! come here this moment!"</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth obeyed the imperious summons, and as she reached the foot of
+the stairs, Rita's voice broke out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Why has no coffee been brought to me? I never saw such carelessness.
+There is no bell in my room, either, and I have been calling till I am
+hoarse."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry, miss!" replied Elizabeth quietly. "We supposed you
+would come down to breakfast with the other young ladies. Shall I<a class="pagenum" name="page_38" id="page_38" title="38"></a> bring
+you a cup of tea now? There is no coffee in the house, as Mr. Montfort
+never drinks it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>No coffee!</i>" cried Rita. "I <i>have</i> come to a wilderness! Well&mdash;bring
+the tea! and have it strong, do you hear?" And the young Cuban swept
+back into her room, and shut the door with more vehemence than good
+breeding strictly allowed.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret listened in distressed silence to this colloquy. Peggy giggled
+and chuckled. "Aha!" she said, "I'm so glad she didn't get the coffee.
+Greedy thing! Please hand me the muffins, Margaret. How small they are!
+The idea of her having her breakfast in bed!" and Peggy sniffed, and
+helped herself largely to marmalade.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps her head aches still," said peace-loving Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't believe a word of it!" cried Peggy. "She's used to being waited
+on by darkeys, and she thinks it will be just the same here. That's
+all!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret thought this was probably true, but she did not say so,
+preferring the safer remark that it was a delightful day.</p>
+
+<p>"When you have finished your breakfast," she<a class="pagenum" name="page_39" id="page_39" title="39"></a> said, "we will go out into
+the garden. I can see a bit of it from here, and it looks lovely. Oh! I
+can just catch a glimpse of the swing. I wonder if it is the same old
+one. I love to swing, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like shinning better!" said Peggy, putting half a muffin in her
+mouth. "Can you shin?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shin! what&mdash;oh! up a tree, you mean. I'm afraid not."</p>
+
+<p>"I can!" said Peggy triumphantly. "I can beat most of the boys at it,
+only Ma won't let me do it, on account of my clothes. Says I'm too old,
+too; bother! I'm not going to be a primmy, just because I am fifteen.
+How old are you, Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seventeen; and as two years make a great difference, you know, Peggy, I
+shall put on all the airs of an elder sister. You know the Elder
+Sister's part,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+"Good advice and counsel sage,<br />
+And 'I never did so when I was your age!'"
+</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said Peggy. "I'll call you elder sister. Ma always says I
+ought to have had one, instead of being one."<a class="pagenum" name="page_40" id="page_40" title="40"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Well, first comes something that we must both do; that is, go and see
+Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your
+necktie for you."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie
+round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be
+coaxed a little&mdash;or not so very little!&mdash;and then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked!
+Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to
+be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Margaret had rebuttoned the dress, with a sigh over the
+fact that the buttons did not match it, and that one sleeve was put in
+wrong. Now she declared that they must go without more delay, and
+Elizabeth came to show them the way.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy hung back, muttering that she never knew what to say to strangers;
+but Margaret took her hand firmly, and drew her along.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Margaret may have felt a little nervous<a class="pagenum" name="page_41" id="page_41" title="41"></a> herself about this
+strange lady, who never left her rooms, and yet was to entertain and
+care for them, as her uncle's note had said. Both girls followed in
+silence, as Elizabeth led them through the hall, past a door, then down
+three steps and along a little passage to another door, at which she
+knocked.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" said a pleasant voice. Elizabeth opened the door and motioned
+the girls to enter.</p>
+
+<p>"The young ladies, ma'am!" she said; and then shut the door and went
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The sudden change from the dark passage to the white room was dazzling.
+It was a small room, and it seemed to be all white: walls, floor
+(covered with a white India matting), furniture, and all. The strange
+lady sat in a great white armchair. She wore a gown of soft white
+cashmere, and her hair, and her cap, her hands, and her face, were all
+different shades of white, each softer than the other. Only her eyes
+were brown; and as she looked kindly at the girls and smiled, they
+thought they had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, children," she said; "do you think I am a ghost? Come here, dears,
+and let me look<a class="pagenum" name="page_42" id="page_42" title="42"></a> at you! I am real, I assure you." She laughed, the
+softest little laugh, hardly more than a rustle, and held out her hand.
+Margaret came forward at once, still dragging Peggy after her,&mdash;Peggy,
+whose eyes were so wide open, it looked as if she might never be able to
+shut them again.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheriton took a hand of each, and looked earnestly from one to the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you called?" she asked. "I know that you have the same name."</p>
+
+<p>"We thought I had better be Margaret," was the timid reply from the girl
+who was able to speak, "and this is Peggy."</p>
+
+<p>"I see!" said the old lady, putting her hand on Peggy's flaxen mane.
+"You look like Peggy, little one! I used to call my sister Peggy. And
+where is the third Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has not come down yet; she had a headache last night," said
+Margaret, losing all shyness before the kindly glance of those soft
+brown eyes. "She is called Rita, and she is very beautiful."<a class="pagenum" name="page_43" id="page_43" title="43"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-043.jpg" alt="AUNT FAITH&#39;S ROOM." title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">AUNT FAITH&#39;S ROOM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_45" id="page_45" title="45"></a>"That is pleasant!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "I like pretty people, when they
+are good as well. You are a Montfort, Margaret! You have the Montfort
+mouth, and chin; but this child must look like her mother." Peggy
+nodded, but could not yet find speech.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," the old lady went on, "I am sure you are longing to know who
+I am, and why I live here by myself, like an old fairy godmother. Sit
+down, my dears, and be comfortable! Here, Margaret, the little
+rocking-chair is pleasant; Peggy, child, take the footstool! So! now you
+look more at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, children, the truth is, I am very old. When my next birthday
+comes, I shall be ninety years old; a very great age, my dears! Your
+grandfather was my cousin; and when, five years ago, I was left alone in
+the world by the death of my dear only son, John Montfort, your uncle,
+like the good lad he is, found me out and brought me home with him to
+live. He is my godson, and I loved him very much when he was a little
+child; so now, when I am old and helpless, he makes return by loving
+me."</p>
+
+<p>She paused to wipe her eyes; then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"When one is nearly ninety years old, one does not care to move about
+much, even if one is perfectly well, as I am. John knew this (he<a class="pagenum" name="page_46" id="page_46" title="46"></a> knows
+a great deal), and he fitted up these pleasant rooms, in the warmest and
+quietest corner of the house, and here he put me, with my little maid,
+and my books, and my cat, and my parrot; and here I live, my dears, very
+cheerfully and happily. On pleasant days I go out in my garden, and sit
+under the trees. Look out of the window, girls, and see my green
+parlour. Is it not pretty?"</p>
+
+<p>The girls knelt on the broad window-seat, and looked out. Before them
+was a square, grassy place, smooth and green as an emerald. The house
+enclosed it on two sides; the other two were screened by a hedge of
+Norway fir, twenty feet high, and solid as a wall. Over this the
+sunbeams poured in, flecking the green with gold. In one corner stood a
+laburnum-tree, covered with yellow blossoms; under a tall elm near by
+was a rustic seat.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you like my kingdom?" asked the old lady, smiling at their eager
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>"It is like a fairy place!" said Margaret. "You are quite sure you are
+real, Mrs. Cheriton?" They smiled at each other, feeling friends
+already.<a class="pagenum" name="page_47" id="page_47" title="47"></a></p>
+
+<p>"'Mrs. Cheriton' will never do, if we are to see each other every day,
+as I hope we are. How would you like to call me Aunt Faith?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the lovely name!" cried Margaret. "Thank you so much! Now we really
+belong to some one, and we shall not feel strange any more; shall we,
+Peggy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;s'pose not!" stammered Peggy. "I shall like it ever so much."</p>
+
+<p>The girls sat a little longer, chatting and listening. Mrs. Cheriton
+told them of her parrot, who was old too, and who spoke Spanish and
+French, and did not like English; she showed them her books, many of
+which were bound in white vellum or parchment. "It is a fancy of
+John's," she said, "to have all my belongings white. I think he still
+remembers his Aunt Phoebe. Do you know about your Great-aunt Phoebe?"</p>
+
+<p>The girls said no, and begged to hear, but Mrs. Cheriton said that must
+be for another time.</p>
+
+<p>"I must not keep you too long," she said, "for I want you to come often.
+I will call Janet, and she shall show you the way through<a class="pagenum" name="page_48" id="page_48" title="48"></a> my green
+parlour to the garden. The Fernley garden is the pleasantest in the
+world, I think."</p>
+
+<p>She touched the bell, and told the pretty rosy-cheeked maid who appeared
+to take the young ladies by the back way, and introduce them to
+Chiquito; and they took their leave regretfully, begging that they might
+come every day to the white chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Chiquito's cage hung in the porch, and Chiquito was hanging in it upside
+down. He swore frightfully at the sight of strangers, and bit Peggy's
+finger when she tried to stroke him; but at a word from Janet he was
+quiet, and said, "<i>Me gustan todas!</i>" in a plaintive tone, with his head
+on one side.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" asked Peggy. "He's horrid, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>Janet's feeling were hurt. "He doesn't mean it!" she said. "And he
+always wants to be pleasant when he says that. Something out of a
+Spanish song, Mrs. Cheriton says it is, and means that he likes folks.
+You do like folks when they like you, don't you, poor Chico?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>En general!</i>" said the bird, cocking his<a class="pagenum" name="page_49" id="page_49" title="49"></a> yellow eye at Peggy. "<i>Me
+gustan todas en general!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never!" said Peggy. "I think he's a witch, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>They went through a low door cut in the green wall, and found themselves
+in the great shady garden, a place of wonder and mystery. The trees and
+plants had been growing for two hundred years, ever since James Montfort
+had left the court of Charles II. in disgust, and come out to build his
+home and make his garden in the new country, where freedom waited for
+her children.</p>
+
+<p>The great oaks and elms and chestnuts were green with moss and hoary
+with lichens, but the flower-beds lay out in broad sunshine, and here
+were no signs of age, only of careful tending and renewal. Margaret was
+enchanted with the flowers, for her home had been in a town, and she
+knew little of country joys. Peggy glanced carelessly at the geraniums
+and heliotropes, and told Margaret that she should see a field of
+poppies in bloom.</p>
+
+<p>They came across the gardener, who straightened himself at sight of
+them, and greeted them<a class="pagenum" name="page_50" id="page_50" title="50"></a> with grave politeness. He was a tall, strongly
+made man, with, grizzled hair and bright, dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"May we pick a few flowers?" asked Margaret in her pleasant way.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, miss; any, and all you like, except these beds of young slips
+here, which I am nursing carefully. I hope you will be often in the
+garden, young ladies!" and he saluted again, in military fashion, as the
+girls walked away.</p>
+
+<p>"What a remarkable-looking man!" said Margaret. "I wonder if I can have
+seen him anywhere. There is something about his face&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there is the swing!" cried Peggy. "Come along, Margaret; I'll race
+you to that big chestnut-tree!" and away flew the two girls over the
+smooth green turf.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_51" id="page_51" title="51"></a>
+<a name="CONFIDENCE_993" id="CONFIDENCE_993"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+<h3>CONFIDENCE.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What are you doing, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>?" asked Rita, suddenly appearing at
+Margaret's door. "How is it you pass your time so cheerfully? how to
+live, in this deplorable solitude? You see me fading away, positively a
+shadow, in this hideous solitude!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret looked up cheerfully from her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, daughter of despair!" she said. And Rita came in and flung
+herself on the sofa with a tragic air.</p>
+
+<p>"You are doing&mdash;what?" she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"I have rather a hopeless task, I fear," said Margaret. "Peggy's hat!
+She dropped it into the pond yesterday, and I am trying to smarten it up
+a little, poor thing! What do you advise, Rita? I am sure you have
+clever fingers, you embroider so beautifully."</p>
+
+<p>"I should advise the fire," said Rita, looking<a class="pagenum" name="page_52" id="page_52" title="52"></a> with scorn at the
+battered hat. "Put it in now, this moment. It will burn well, and it can
+do nothing else decently."</p>
+
+<p>"Ten miles from a shop," said Margaret, "and nothing else save her best
+hat. No, my lady, we cannot be so extravagant. If you will not help me,
+I must e'en do the best I can. I never could understand hats!" she added
+ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Why</i> do you do these things?" Rita asked, sitting up as suddenly as
+she had flung herself down. "Will you tell me why? I love you! I have
+told you twenty times of it; but I cannot understand why you do these
+things for that young monster. Will you tell me why?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, she is not a monster, and I will not have you say
+such things, Rita. In the second place, I am very fond of her; and in
+the third, I should try to help her all I could, even if I were not fond
+of her."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is a duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Duty?" Rita laughed, and made a pretty little grimace. "English word,
+ugly and stupid word! I know not its meaning. You are fond<a class="pagenum" name="page_53" id="page_53" title="53"></a> of Calibana?
+Then I revere less your taste, that is all. Ah! what do you make there?
+That cannot be; it cuts the soul!"</p>
+
+<p>She took the hat hastily from Margaret's hand. Had the latter been a
+little overclumsy on purpose? Certainly her dimple deepened a little as
+she relinquished the forlorn object. Rita held it on her finger and
+twirled it around.</p>
+
+<p>"The fire is really the only place for it," she said again; "but if it
+must be preserved, do you not see that the only possible thing is to
+turn this ribbon? It was not wet through; the other side is fresh."</p>
+
+<p>She still frowned at the hat, but her fingers began to move here and
+there, twisting and turning in a magical way. In five minutes the hat
+was a different object, and Margaret gave a little cry of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"Rita, you are a dear! Why, it looks better than it did before the
+wetting, ever and ever so much better! Thank you, you clever creature! I
+shall bring all my hats to you for treatment, and I am sure Peggy will
+be so much obliged when I tell her&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you dare!" cried Rita. "You will do<a class="pagenum" name="page_54" id="page_54" title="54"></a> nothing of the sort, I beg, <i>ma
+cousine</i>. What I have done, was done for you; I desire neither thanks
+nor any other thing from La Calibana. That she remain out of my sight
+when possible, that she hold her tongue when we must be together,&mdash;that
+is all I demand. Reasonable, I hope? If not&mdash;" She shrugged her
+shoulders and began to hum a love-song.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sighed. "If you could only see, my dear," she began gently,
+"how much happier we should all be, if you and Peggy could only make up
+your minds to make the best of it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The best!" cried Rita, flashing into another mood, and coming to hover
+over her quiet cousin like a bird of paradise. "Do I not make the best?
+You are the best, Marguerite. I make all I can of you&mdash;except a
+milliner; never could I do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" she added, dropping on the floor by Margaret's side. "You see
+me happy to-day, do you not? I do not frown or pout,&mdash;I can't see why I
+should not, when I feel black,&mdash;but to-day is a white day. And why? Can
+you guess?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret shook her head discreetly.<a class="pagenum" name="page_55" id="page_55" title="55"></a></p>
+
+<p>"I cannot do more than guess," she said, "but you seemed very much
+pleased with the letter that came this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Rita flung her arms round her. "Aha!" she cried. "We perceive! We drop
+our dove's eyes; we look more demure than any mouse, but we perceive!
+Ah! Marguerite, behold me about to give you the strongest proof of my
+love: I confide in you."</p>
+
+<p>She drew a bulky letter from her pocket. Margaret looked at it
+apprehensively, fearing she knew not what.</p>
+
+<p>"From my friend," Rita explained, spreading the sheets of thin blue
+paper, crossed and recrossed, on her lap; "my Conchita, the other half
+of my soul. You shall hear part of it, Marguerite, but other parts are
+too sacred. She begins so beautifully: '<i>Mi alma</i>'&mdash;but you have no
+Spanish yet; the pity, to turn it into cold English! 'My soul' has a
+foolish sound. 'Saint Rosalie, Saint Eulalie, and the blessed Saint
+Teresa, have you in their holy keeping! I live the life of a withered
+leaf without you; my soul flies like a mourning bird to your frozen
+North, where you are immured'&mdash;oh, it doesn't sound a<a class="pagenum" name="page_56" id="page_56" title="56"></a> bit right! I
+cannot read it in English." Indeed, Margaret thought it sounded too
+silly for her beloved language, but she said nothing, only giving a
+glance of sympathetic interest.</p>
+
+<p>"She tells me of all they are doing," Rita went on. "All day they sit in
+the closed rooms, as the sun is too hot for going out; but in the
+evening they drive, and Conchita has been allowed to ride on horseback.
+Fancy, what bliss! Fernando was with her!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita stopped suddenly, and Margaret, feeling that she must say
+something, echoed, "Fernando?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her brother," said Rita, and she cast down her eyes. "Also a friend of
+mine,&mdash;a cousin on my mother's side; the handsomest person in Havana,
+the most enchanting, the most distinguished! He sends me messages,&mdash;no
+matter about those; but think of this: he is leaving Havana, he is
+coming to New York, he will be in this country! Marguerite! think of
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I think of it?" asked Margaret, raising her eyes to her
+cousin's; the gray eyes were cool and tranquil, but the dark ones were
+full of fire and light.<a class="pagenum" name="page_57" id="page_57" title="57"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Is he a friend of your father's, too, Rita?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita's face darkened. "My father!" she cried impatiently. "My father is
+a knight of the middle ages; he demands the stiff behaviour of fifty in
+a youth of twenty-one. He, who has forgotten what youth is!" She was
+silent for a moment, but the shadow remained on her beautiful face.</p>
+
+<p>"After all, it is no matter," she said, rising abruptly; "I was
+mistaken, Marguerite. The letter is for me alone; you would not care for
+it,&mdash;perhaps not understand it. You, too, have the cold Northern blood.
+Forget what I have said."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but, my dear," cried Margaret, fearful of losing her slight hold on
+this creature of moods, "don't be so unkind! I want to know why they
+must sit in the house all day, and what they do from morning till night.
+I have always longed to know about the life you live at home. Be good
+now, wild bird, and perch again."</p>
+
+<p>Rita wavered, but when Margaret laid her cool, firm hand on hers, she
+sank down again, though she still looked dissatisfied.<a class="pagenum" name="page_58" id="page_58" title="58"></a></p>
+
+<p>"We sit in the house," she said, "of course, in the heats,&mdash;what else
+could we do? Only at night is it possible to go out. No, we do not read
+much. It is too hot to read, and Cuban women do not care for books; oh,
+a romance now and then; but for great, horrible books like those you
+<i>raffole</i> about downstairs there,&mdash;" she shook her shoulders as if
+shaking off a heavy weight. "We sew a great deal, embroider, do
+lace-work like that you admired. Then at noon we sleep as long as
+possible, and in the evening we go out to walk, drive, ride. To walk in
+the orange-groves by moonlight,&mdash;ah! that is heaven! One night last
+month we slipped out, Conchita and I, and&mdash;you must never breathe this,
+Marguerite&mdash;and met my brother and Fernando beneath the great
+orange-tree in the south grove&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother!" exclaimed Margaret. "You never told me you had a
+brother, Rita!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! I have so much the habit of silence about him. He is with the
+army. My father is a Spaniard. Carlos and I are Cubans." Her eyes
+flashed, and she looked like the spirit of battle.<a class="pagenum" name="page_59" id="page_59" title="59"></a></p>
+
+<p>"My father will not hear him named!" she cried. "He would have Cuba
+continue a slave, she, who will be the queen and goddess of the sea when
+the war is over! Ah, Marguerite! my heart is on flame when I speak of my
+country. Well,&mdash;we met them there. They are both with the army, the
+insurgents, as the Spaniards call them. We walked up and down. The
+orange-blossoms were so sweet, the fragrance hung like clouds in the
+air. I had a lace mantilla over my head,&mdash;I will show it to you one day.
+We talked of <i>Cuba libre</i>, and they told us how they live there in the
+mountains. Ah! if a girl could fight, would I be here? No; a sword
+should be by my side, a plume in my hat, and I would be with Carlos and
+Fernando in the mountains. Well,&mdash;ah, the bad part is to come! Carlos
+had been wounded; his arm was in a sling. Folly, to make it of a white
+handkerchief! The se&ntilde;ora&mdash;my father's wife&mdash;must have seen it shining
+among the trees; we know it must have been that, for we girls wore black
+dresses of purpose,&mdash;a woman thinks of what a man never dreams of. She
+called my father; he came out, raging. We had a<a class="pagenum" name="page_60" id="page_60" title="60"></a> fine scene. Burning
+words passed between my father and Carlos. They vowed never to see each
+other more. They went, and Conchita and I go fainting, dying, into the
+house. Three days after comes my uncle's letter,&mdash;behold me here!
+Marguerite, this is my story. Preserve it in your bosom, it is a sacred
+confidence."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret hardly knew whether she were in real life, or in a theatre.
+Rita's voice, though low, vibrated with passion; her eyes were liquid
+fire; her little hands clenched themselves, and she drew her breath in
+through her closed teeth with a savage sound. Then, suddenly, all was
+changed. She flung her arms apart, and burst into laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Your face!" she cried. "Marguerite, your face! what a study of horror!
+You, cool stream, flowing over white sands, you have never seen a rapid,
+how much less a torrent. You, do you know what life is? My faith, I
+think not! I frighten you, my cousin."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was indeed troubled as well as absorbed in all she had heard.
+What a volcano this girl was! What might she not do or say, in some
+moment of passion? This was all new<a class="pagenum" name="page_61" id="page_61" title="61"></a> to Margaret; her life had been so
+sheltered, a quiet stream indeed, till her father's death the year
+before. She had known few girls save her schoolmates, for the most part
+quiet, studious girls like herself. She had lived a great deal in books,
+and knew far more about Spain in the sixteenth century than Cuba in the
+nineteenth. What should she do? How should she learn to curb and help
+these two restless spirits, so different, yet both turning to her and
+flying in detestation from each other?</p>
+
+<p>Pondering thus, she made no reply for a moment; but Rita was in no mood
+to endure silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Statue!" she cried. "Thing of marble! I pour out my soul to you, and
+you have no words for me! And we have been here a week, a mortal,
+suffering week, and I know nothing of your life, your thought. Tell me,
+you, how you have lived, before you came here. I frighten you, I see it;
+try now if you can tame me."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed again, and shook all her pretty ribbons and frills. Every
+day she dressed as if for a <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, and took a mournful pleasure in
+reflecting how her toilets were all wasted.<a class="pagenum" name="page_62" id="page_62" title="62"></a></p>
+
+<p>"How did I live?" said Margaret vaguely. "Oh, very quietly, Rita. So
+quietly, I don't think you would care to hear about my days."</p>
+
+<p>"I burn to hear!" cried Rita. "I perish! Continue, Marguerite."</p>
+
+<p>"I lived with my dear father." Margaret spoke slowly and reluctantly.
+Her memories were so precious, she could not bear to drag them out, and
+expose them to curious, perhaps unloving, eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Our house was in Blankton, a tiny little house, just big enough for
+Father and me; my mother died, you know, a good many years ago, and
+Father and I have been always together. He wrote a great
+deal,&mdash;historical work,&mdash;and I helped him, and wrote for him, and read
+with him. Then&mdash;oh, I went to school, of course, and we walked every
+afternoon, and in the evening Father read aloud while I worked, and I
+played and sang for him. You see, Rita, there really is not much to
+tell."</p>
+
+<p>Not much! yet in the telling, the girl felt her heart beat high and
+painfully, and the sobs rise in her throat, as the dear, happy, peaceful
+days came back to her; the blessed home life, the<a class="pagenum" name="page_63" id="page_63" title="63"></a> love which hedged her
+in so that no rough wind should blow on her, the wise, kindly, loving
+companionship of him who had been father and mother both to her. The
+tears came to her eyes, and she was silent, feeling that she could not
+speak for the moment. Rita was thoughtful, too, and when she spoke
+again, it was in a softened tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I can picture it!" she said. "It is a picture without colour; I could
+not have borne such a life; but for you, Marguerite, so tranquil,
+demanding so little, with peace in your soul, it must have been sweet.
+And now,&mdash;after this summer here, only not horrible because in it I
+learn to know my dear Marguerite,&mdash;after this summer, what do you do?
+what is your life?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to get a position as teacher," said Margaret. "Then, when I have
+earned something, I shall go to the Library School, and learn to be a
+librarian; that has been my dream for a long time."</p>
+
+<p>"Your nightmare!" cried Rita. "What dreadful things even to think about,
+Marguerite! But it shall not be; never, I tell you! You shall come back
+with me to Cuba, and be my<a class="pagenum" name="page_64" id="page_64" title="64"></a> sister. I have money&mdash;oceans, I believe;
+more than I can spend, try as I will. You shall live with me; we will
+buy a plantation, orange-groves, sugar-cane,&mdash;you shall study
+cultivation, I will ride about the plantation&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By moonlight?" asked Marguerite mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"Always by moonlight!" cried Rita. "It shall be always moonlight! Carlos
+shall be our intendant, and Fernando&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I think Fernando would much better stay in the mountains!" said
+Margaret decidedly.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_65" id="page_65" title="65"></a>
+<a name="THE_PEATBOG_1283" id="THE_PEATBOG_1283"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+<h3>THE PEAT-BOG.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was a great relief to Margaret to carry her perplexities to Aunt
+Faith and talk them over. Mrs. Cheriton's mind and sympathies were as
+quick and alert as if she were still a young woman, instead of being
+near the rounding of the completed century. She listened with kindly
+interest, and her wise and tender words cleared away many of the cobwebs
+of anxiety that beset Margaret's sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Let patience have her perfect work!" she was fond of saying. "Neither
+of these children is to be led by precept, I think. Make your own ways,
+ways of pleasantness as well as paths of peace, and soon or late they
+will fall into them. You cannot expect to do much in a week, or two
+weeks, or three weeks. Or it may be," she would add, "that you are not
+to do it after all; it may be that other things and persons will be<a class="pagenum" name="page_66" id="page_66" title="66"></a>
+called in. The ordering is wise, but we cannot often understand it, for
+it is written in cipher. Do you only the best you can, my child, and
+keep your own head steady, and you will find the others settling into
+harness before long."</p>
+
+<p>"It distresses me," Margaret said, "to have Rita so rude to the
+servants. I cannot speak to her about that, I suppose; but it is really
+too bad. Elizabeth is so sensible, I am sure she understands how it all
+is; but&mdash;well, the gardener, Aunt Faith! John Strong! Why, any one can
+see that he is an uncommon man; not the least an ordinary labouring man.
+Do you know how much he knows?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheriton nodded. "John Strong is a very remarkable man," she said;
+"you are right there, Margaret. And Rita is uncivil to him? Do you know,
+I should not trouble myself about that if I were you. If Elizabeth can
+understand that Rita has been brought up without learning any respect
+for the dignity of labour, John Strong will understand it twice as well,
+for he has more than twice the intelligence."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Aunt Faith! You are so comforting! He&mdash;he has been here a
+long time,<a class="pagenum" name="page_67" id="page_67" title="67"></a> has he not? I should think my uncle must have great
+confidence in him; and he has such beautiful manners!"</p>
+
+<p>"His manners," said Mrs. Cheriton emphatically, "are perfect." Then she
+said, changing the subject rather hastily, "And where are the two other
+girls to-day, my dear? They do not incline to come to me often, I
+perceive. It is not strange; many very young people dislike the sight of
+extreme age; you have been taught differently, my dear,&mdash;Roger Montfort
+was always a thoughtful, sensible lad, like John. No, I do not blame
+them in the least for keeping away, but I like to know what they are
+doing."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't really know, just now," and Margaret hung her head a little;
+"Peggy wanted me to go to walk with her an hour or so ago, but I was
+just reading a book that Papa had always told me about,&mdash;'The Fool of
+Quality,' you know it?&mdash;and I did not want to leave it. I ought to have
+gone; I will go now, and see where they both are. Dear Aunt Faith, thank
+you so much for letting me come and talk to you; you can't think what a
+relief it is when I am puzzled."<a class="pagenum" name="page_68" id="page_68" title="68"></a></p>
+
+<p>The old lady's sweet smile lingered like a benediction with Margaret, as
+she went back to the main house, carefully closing the door that shut
+off the white rooms. Surely she had been selfish to stay indoors with a
+book, instead of going out with her cousin; but oh, the book understood
+her so much better, and was so much more companionable! Now, however,
+she would be good, and would go and see what both the cousins were
+doing. They were not together, of course; Rita was very likely asleep at
+this hour; but Peggy, what had Peggy been doing?</p>
+
+<p>What had Peggy been doing?</p>
+
+<p>She had sauntered out rather disconsolately, on Margaret's refusing to
+accompany her. She was so used to being one of a large, shouting,
+struggling family, that she felt, perhaps more than any of the three
+girls, the retirement and quiet of Fernley. She wanted to run and scream
+and make a noise, but there was no fun in doing it alone. If Jean were
+only here!</p>
+
+<p>She went through the garden, and found some consolation in a talk with
+John Strong, who, always the pink of courtesy, leaned on his hoe,<a class="pagenum" name="page_69" id="page_69" title="69"></a> and
+told her many valuable things concerning the late planting. Her
+questions were shrewd and intelligent, for Peggy had not lived on a farm
+for nothing, and she already knew more about the possibilities of
+Fernley than Margaret or Rita would learn in a year.</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall I go for a walk?" she asked, when John Strong showed signs
+of thinking about his work again. "I hate to go alone, but no one would
+come with me. I have been over the hill and into the oak woods. What is
+another nice way to go, where there will be strawberries?"</p>
+
+<p>John Strong considered. "About two miles from here, miss, you'll find a
+very pretty strawberry patch. Go through the oak woods and along beside
+the bog; but be careful not to step into the bog itself, for it is a
+treacherous bit."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a bog? Why don't you drain it?" asked Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a peat-bog," returned the gardener. "It would be a very costly
+matter to drain it, but I believe Mr. Montfort is thinking of it, miss.
+A short way beyond the woods you'll come upon the strawberry meadow; it
+is the<a class="pagenum" name="page_70" id="page_70" title="70"></a> best I know of hereabouts. Good morning, miss."</p>
+
+<p>Off went Peggy, swinging her hat by the ribbon, a loop of which was
+coming off, and thinking of home and of Jean, her most intimate sister.
+She loved Margaret dearly already, but one had always to be on one's
+good behaviour with her, she was so good herself. Oh, how delightful it
+would be to have Jean here, and to have a race through the woods, and
+then a good, jolly romp, and perhaps a "spat," before they settled down
+to the business of strawberry-picking! She could have spats enough with
+that horrid, spiteful Cuban girl, but there was no fun in those; just
+cold, sneering hatefulness. Thinking of her cousin Rita, Peggy gave her
+hat a twist and a fling, and sent it flying across the green meadow on
+which she was now entering.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she said, "I just wish that was you, Miss Rita,&mdash;I do! I
+wouldn't help you up, either."</p>
+
+<p>Then, rather ashamed of her outburst, she went to pick up the hat again;
+but, setting foot on the edge of the green meadow, she drew it back
+hastily.<a class="pagenum" name="page_71" id="page_71" title="71"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" said Peggy. "The peat-bog! <i>Now</i> I've been and gone and done it!"</p>
+
+<p>She whistled, a long, clear whistle that would have done credit to any
+one of her brothers, and gazed ruefully at the hat, which lay out of
+reach, resting quietly on the smooth emerald velvet of the quaking bog.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother! Now I suppose I shall have to fish the old thing out. It
+will never look fit to be seen again, and Margaret retrimmed it only the
+other day. Well, here goes!"</p>
+
+<p>Looking about carefully, Peggy pulled a long bulrush from a clump that
+grew at the side of the bog. Then she walked along the edge, skirting
+with care the deceitful green that looked so fair and lovely, till she
+came to where a slender birch hung its long drooping branches out over
+the bog. Clinging to one of these branches, Peggy leaned forward as far
+as she dared, and began to angle for her hat. "He rises well," she
+muttered, "but he doesn't bite worth a cent."</p>
+
+<p>Twice she succeeded in working the end of the bulrush through the loop
+of ribbon that perked cheerfully on the top of the hat; twice<a class="pagenum" name="page_72" id="page_72" title="72"></a> the loop
+slipped off as she raised it, and the hat dropped back. The third time,
+however, was successful, and the skilful angler had the satisfaction of
+drawing the hat toward her, and finally rescuing it from its perilous
+position. Not all of it, however; the flower, the yellow rose, once
+Peggy's pride and joy, had become loosened during the various
+unaccustomed motions of its parent hat, and now lay, lonely and lovely,
+a golden spot on the bright green grass. Peggy fished again, but this
+time in vain; and finally she was obliged to give it up, and go off
+flowerless in search of her strawberries.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Margaret had been searching high and low for Peggy. John
+Strong could have told her where she was, but he had gone to a distant
+part of the farm, and no one had seen the two talking together.</p>
+
+<p>"A search for Calibana?" said Rita, when her cousin inquired for the
+wanderer. "My faith, why? If she can remain hidden for a time,
+Marguerite, consider the boon it would be!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_73" id="page_73" title="73"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-073.jpg" alt="PEGGY AT THE BOG." title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">PEGGY AT THE BOG.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_75" id="page_75" title="75"></a>But Margaret turned from her impatiently, seeing which, Rita was
+jealous, and said, "I had hoped you would take a walk with me, <i>ma
+cousine</i>. I perish for air! I cannot go alone through these places,&mdash;I
+might meet a dog."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret could not help laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you might," she said. "And what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should die!" said Rita simply. Then, linking her arm in her cousin's
+with her most caressing gesture, she said, "Come with me, <i>alma mia</i>. We
+walk,&mdash;very likely we find La Calibana on our way. She cannot have
+strayed far, it is too near dinner-time; and she has a clock inside her;
+you know it well, Marguerite."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret could not refuse the offered company, and they set out in the
+same direction that Peggy had taken. Margaret had been in the oak woods
+several times with Peggy, and thought she might very likely find her
+there; but no one answered her call; only the trees rustled, and the
+hermit-thrush called in answer, deep in some thicket far away.
+Presently, as they walked, there shot through the dark oak branches a
+sunny gleam, a flash of green and gold. They pressed forward, and in
+another moment stood on the edge of the quaking bog.<a class="pagenum" name="page_76" id="page_76" title="76"></a> But they had not
+been warned; neither had they Peggy's practised eye, which would have
+told her even without the warning that this was no safe place.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a lovely meadow!" cried Margaret. "I always wondered what lay
+beyond these woods, but have never come so far before. Shall we cross
+it, Rita? or does it look a little damp, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be damp," said Rita indifferently. "I care not for damp, <i>tr&egrave;s
+ch&egrave;re</i>. Let us cross, by all means. And look! see the golden flower;
+what can it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, I am sure!" said Margaret, gazing innocently at the
+yellow muslin rose which had been under her hands only the day before.
+"It looks&mdash;I don't know what it looks like, Rita. But I am afraid the
+grass is very wet. Don't you see the wet shining through?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pouf!" said Rita. "Wait thou here, faint heart, while I bring the
+flower; that, at least, I must do, even if we go no further."</p>
+
+<p>She stepped over the grass so lightly and quickly that she had gone some
+steps before her<a class="pagenum" name="page_77" id="page_77" title="77"></a> feet began to sink in the black, oozy bog. Margaret
+saw the water bubbling up behind her, and cried to her in alarm to come
+back; and Rita, finding the earth plucking at her feet, turned willingly
+toward the solid ground; but return was impossible. She tried to lift
+her feet, but the bog held them fast, and with the effort, she felt
+herself sinking, slowly but surely.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," she cried, "it is bad ground! It is a pit, Marguerite! Do not
+move, do not come near me! Run and get help!" For Margaret was already
+stepping forward with outstretched hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop where you are!" cried Rita imperiously. "Do you not see that if
+you come in, we are both lost? I tell you there is no ground here, no
+bottom! I sink, I feel it sucking me down, down! Ah, <i>Madre</i>! go,
+Marguerite, fly for help!"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Margaret turned in distraction. Whither should she fly? They were
+more than a mile from home. How could she leave her cousin in this
+dreadful plight? Before help could come, she might be lost indeed, drawn
+bodily under by the treacherous ooze. She turned away, but<a class="pagenum" name="page_78" id="page_78" title="78"></a> came running
+back suddenly, for she heard a sound coming from the opposite direction,
+a cheerful whistle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rita!" she cried; "help is near. I hear some one whistling, a boy
+or a man. Oh, help! help! Come this way, please!"</p>
+
+<p>The whistle changed to a cry of surprise, uttered in a familiar voice.
+The next minute, Peggy came running through the wood, her hands and face
+red with strawberry juice.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret could only gasp, and point to Rita, for her heart seemed to die
+within her when she saw that the newcomer was only a girl like
+herself,&mdash;only poor, awkward Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>They were no better off than before, save that now one could go for
+help, while the other could stay to cheer poor Rita. Rita was now deadly
+white; she had ceased to call. The black ooze had crept to her knees,
+and she no longer made any effort to extricate herself. Margaret was
+turning to run again, but Peggy stopped her. "Stand still!" she said.
+"I'll get her out."</p>
+
+<p>Ah, poor, awkward, ill-dressed Peggy, your hour has come now! Not for
+nothing were you<a class="pagenum" name="page_79" id="page_79" title="79"></a> brought up on a prairie, your eyes trained to
+quickness, your arms strong as steel, your wits ever on the alert where
+there is danger! Poor Peggy, this is your hour, and the haughty beauty
+and the gentle student must own you their superior.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy cast a keen glance around; she was looking for something. Spying a
+stout stake that had been broken off and was lying on the ground, she
+caught it up, and the next moment had thrown herself flat on her face.
+Lying flat, she began slowly and cautiously to wriggle out across the
+surface of the quaking bog. The black water seethed and bubbled under
+her; but her weight, evenly distributed, did not bear on any one spot
+heavily enough to press her down. Slowly, carefully, she worked her way
+out, while the other girls held their breath and dared not speak. Once,
+indeed, Rita moaned, and cried, "No, no, one is enough! Go back! I
+cannot let you come!"</p>
+
+<p>But Margaret had seen that in Peggy's eyes and mien which kept her
+silent. She stood trembling, with clasped hands, praying for both. She
+could do no more.<a class="pagenum" name="page_80" id="page_80" title="80"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Lie down now, Rita!" Peggy commanded. "Lie flat, just as I am! Stretch
+out your arms,&mdash;so! Now, catch hold!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita obeyed to the point. It was terrible to lie down in that awful
+black slough that was to be her grave, perhaps, but she obeyed without a
+word. Stretching her arms as far as they would go, she touched the end
+of the stake,&mdash;touched, grasped, held fast; and now Peggy, still holding
+fast to her end, began to wriggle back, slowly, cautiously, moving by
+inches.</p>
+
+<p>"Kneel down on the edge, Margaret!" she said; "don't come over, but
+reach out and give us a haul in when you can touch. It's getting pretty
+deep here!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret knelt and reached out her arms; could she touch them? Peggy was
+sinking now, but she still moved backward, dragging Rita with her; they
+were close by,&mdash;she had hold of Peggy's skirt. The stout gathers
+held,&mdash;which was a miracle, Peggy said afterward,&mdash;and the next moment
+all three girls were sitting on the safe, dry ground, crying and holding
+each other tight.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_81" id="page_81" title="81"></a>
+<a name="THE_FAMILY_CHEST_1575" id="THE_FAMILY_CHEST_1575"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+<h3>THE FAMILY CHEST.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Little was said on the homeward walk. Rita walked between her two
+cousins, holding fast a hand of each. She seemed hardly conscious of
+their presence, however; she sobbed occasionally, dry, tearless sobs,
+and murmured Spanish words to herself. Margaret caught the word
+<i>"Madre!"</i> repeated over and over, and pressed her cousin's hand, and
+spoke soothing words; but Rita did not heed her. Peggy walked quickly,
+head in air, cheeks glowing, and eyes shining. All the awkwardness, the
+hanging head and furtive air, was gone, and Margaret looked at her in
+wonder and admiration. But both girls were a piteous sight as regarded
+their clothes. From head to foot they dripped with black mud, thick and
+slimy. Peggy's dress gave no hint of the original colour in the entire
+front, and Rita's was little better.<a class="pagenum" name="page_82" id="page_82" title="82"></a> Their very faces were bedabbled
+with black, and they left a black trail behind them on the grass. In
+this guise they met the astonished gaze of John Strong as he passed
+through the garden on his way to the seed-house. He came hurrying toward
+them with anxious looks.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear children," he cried, "what has happened?" Then, in a different
+tone, "I beg your pardon, young ladies! I was startled at seeing
+you,&mdash;there has been some accident?"</p>
+
+<p>But Rita was herself again now in an instant. Her eyes blazed with angry
+pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep your place, John Strong!" she said haughtily. "When we address
+you, it will be time for you to speak to us." She swept past him into
+the house, her superb bearing presenting a singular contrast to her
+attire; and Peggy followed her, already beginning to giggle and look
+foolish again. But Margaret lingered, distressed and mortified.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, John," she said, "there <i>has</i> been an accident! You will
+understand,&mdash;Miss Rita got into that terrible bog, and might have been
+drowned there before my eyes, if Miss Peggy had not come by, and drawn
+her out so cleverly." And she<a class="pagenum" name="page_83" id="page_83" title="83"></a> told him the whole story, dwelling warmly
+upon Peggy's courage and presence of mind, and blaming herself for not
+having perceived the danger in time.</p>
+
+<p>"It is I who am to blame, Miss Margaret!" said John Strong. "Very, very
+much to blame. Every one about here knows that peat-bog, and avoids it;
+I had warned Miss Peggy, but did not think of your going so far in that
+direction. I am very much to blame."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed so much disturbed that Margaret tried to speak more lightly,
+though she was still pale and trembling; but the gardener kindly begged
+her to go in and rest, and she was glad enough to go.</p>
+
+<p>John Strong stood looking after her a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be shot!" he said to himself. "And that is the lassie for
+me! Good stuff in both the others, as I supposed, but this is the one
+for me." And shaking his head, he went slowly on his way.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret went straight to Peggy's room, but found it empty, and passing
+by Rita's found the door shut, and heard voices within. She paused a
+moment, wondering. Should she go<a class="pagenum" name="page_84" id="page_84" title="84"></a> in? No; she remembered Mrs. Cheriton's
+words, "It may be that you are not to do it, after all," and she went
+into her own room and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>It might have been half an hour after that she heard a whispering in the
+hall outside, and then a knock at her door. She ran to open it, and
+stood amazed. There was Peggy, blushing and smiling, looking as pleased
+as a little child, arrayed in the rose-coloured tea-gown whose existence
+she had endangered on the night of her arrival; and there beside her,
+holding her hand, was Rita, in pale blue and swansdown,&mdash;Rita, also
+smiling, but with the mockery for once gone from eyes and mouth, and
+with traces of tears on her beautiful face. She now led Peggy forward,
+and presented her formally to Margaret, with a sweeping courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Montfort," she began, "this is my sister. I desire for her the
+honour and privilege of your distinguished acquaintance. She kisses your
+hands and feet, as do I myself."</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly she threw herself upon Margaret's neck, still holding
+Peggy's hand, so that all three were wrapped in one embrace.<a class="pagenum" name="page_85" id="page_85" title="85"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Marguerite," she cried, "behold this child! I have been a brute to her,
+you know it well&mdash;" and Margaret certainly did. "A brute, a devil-fish,
+what you will! and she&mdash;she has saved my life! You saw it, you heard it;
+another moment, and I should have gone&mdash;" she shuddered. "I cannot speak
+of it. But now, Marguerite, hear me swear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh my!" ejaculated Peggy, in some alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear me swear!" repeated Rita passionately; "from this moment Peggy is
+my sister. You are not jealous, no? You are also my own soul, but you
+are sufficient to yourself; what do you need, piece of Northern
+perfection that you are? Peggy needs me; I take her, I care for her, I
+form her! so shall it be!" And once more she embraced both cousins
+warmly.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret's eyes filled with happy tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Peggy! Dear Rita!" was all she could say at first, as she returned
+their embraces. Then she made them come in and sit down, and looked from
+one to the other. "It is so good!" she cried. "Oh, so good! You can't
+imagine, girls, how I have longed for this! It did seem so dreadful that
+you should not have<a class="pagenum" name="page_86" id="page_86" title="86"></a> the pleasure of each other&mdash;but we will not speak
+of that any more! No! and we will bless the black bog for bringing you
+together."</p>
+
+<p>But Rita shuddered again, and begged that she might never hear of the
+bog again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you observe Peggy's hair?" she asked. "What do you think of it?"</p>
+
+<p>The fair hair was brought smoothly up over the well-shaped head, and
+wound in a pretty, fluffy Psyche knot. The effect was charming in one
+way, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It makes her look too grown-up," Margaret protested. "It is very
+pretty, but I want her to be a little girl as long as she can. You don't
+want to be a young lady yet, do you, Peggy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" cried Peggy. "Indeed I don't! But Rita thought&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Rita thought!" cried that young lady, nodding her head sagely. "Rita
+thought wrong, as usual, and Margaret thought right. It is too old; but
+what of that? We will try another style. Ten, twenty ways of dressing
+hair I know. Often and often Conchita and I have spent a whole day
+dressing each other's hair, trying this effect, that effect. Ah, the
+superb<a class="pagenum" name="page_87" id="page_87" title="87"></a> hair that Conchita has; it sweeps the floor,&mdash;and soft&mdash;ah, as a
+bat's wool!"</p>
+
+<p>A few hours ago, Peggy would have sniffed scornfully at all this; but
+now she listened with interest, and something of awe, as her beautiful
+cousin discoursed of braids and puffs, and told of the extraordinary
+effect that might sometimes be produced by a single small curl set at
+the proper curve of the neck. It sounded pretty frivolous, to be sure,
+but then, Rita looked so earnest and so lovely, and it was so new and
+delightful to be addressed by her as an equal,&mdash;and a beloved equal at
+that; Peggy's little head was in evident danger of being turned by the
+new position of affairs.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret, feeling that there were limits, even to the subject of
+hairdressing, presently proposed a visit to Aunt Faith, and for once
+neither cousin made any objection. Peggy was mortally afraid of the
+white old lady, and Rita said frankly that she did not like old people,
+and saw no reason why she should put herself out, simply because her
+uncle, whom she had never seen, had chosen to saddle himself with the
+burden of a centenarian. But to-day, Rita<a class="pagenum" name="page_88" id="page_88" title="88"></a> was shaken and softened out
+of all her waywardness, and she readily admitted the propriety of
+telling Mrs. Cheriton what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Faith listened with deep interest, and was as shocked and
+distressed as heart could desire. The peat-bog, she told them, did not
+belong to their uncle; he had in vain tried to buy the land, in order
+that he might drain or fence it, but the proprietor refused to sell it.
+There was a terrible story, she said, of a man's being lost there, many
+years ago; it was a dreadful place.</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing Rita shudder again, she changed the subject, and spoke of
+the charming contrast of the pale blue and rose-colour, in the two
+girls' dresses. "The pink suits you well, little Peggy," she said. "I
+have not seen you in a delicate colour before."</p>
+
+<p>"This isn't mine," said honest Peggy; "it is Rita's&mdash;" but Rita laid her
+hand over her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> hers!" she said; "a nothing! a tea-gown of last year! One is
+ashamed to offer such a thing, not fit to scour floors in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not!" said Mrs. Cheriton, laughing.<a class="pagenum" name="page_89" id="page_89" title="89"></a> "Ah, Rita! you have the
+Spanish ways, I see. I have heard nothing of that sort since I was in
+Spain sixty years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"What, you have been in Spain!" cried Rita, with animation. "Ah, I did
+not know! Please tell us about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Another time. You would like to hear, I think, about the winter I spent
+in Granada, close by the Alhambra. But now I have something else to say.
+Your pretty dresses remind me that there is a chest of old gowns here
+that it might interest you to look over. Some of them are quite old, two
+hundred years or more."</p>
+
+<p>Then, while the girls uttered cries of delight, she called Janet and
+bade her open the cedar chest in the next room.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, my dears!" and she led the way into a bedroom, as white and
+fresh and dainty as the sitting-room. Janet was already on her knees
+before a deep chest, quaintly carved, and clamped with brass. Now, at
+her mistress's request, she began to lift out the contents.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! oh! oh!" cried the three girls, positively squeaking with rapture
+and wonderment. The old lady looked from them to the dresses<a class="pagenum" name="page_90" id="page_90" title="90"></a> with a
+pleased smile. "They are handsome!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>And they were! They must have been stately dames indeed, the Montfort
+ladies who wore these splendid clothes! Here was a crimson damask, so
+heavily embroidered in silver that it stood alone when Janet set it up
+on the floor; here, again, a velvet, somewhat rubbed by long lying in
+the chest, but of so rich and glowing a purple that only a queen could
+have found it becoming. Here were satins that gleamed like falling
+water; one, of the faint, moonlight tint that we call aqua-marine,
+another with a rosy glow like a reflected sunset. And the peach-coloured
+silk! and the blue and silver brocade! and the amber velvet!</p>
+
+<p>Before the bottom of the chest was reached, the girls were silent,
+having exhausted their stock of words.</p>
+
+<p>At last Margaret cried, "Who were these people, Aunt Faith? Were they
+princesses, or runaway Indian begums, or what? They certainly cannot
+have been simple gentlewomen!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheriton laughed her soft, rustling laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a curious old Montfort custom," she<a class="pagenum" name="page_91" id="page_91" title="91"></a> said; "it has come down
+through many generations, I believe. The women have had the habit of
+keeping the handsomest gown they had, or one connected with some special
+great event, and laying it in this old chest. Some of them are
+wedding-gowns,&mdash;those two satins, for example, and that white brocade
+with the tiny rosebuds,&mdash;that was your Grandmother Montfort's
+wedding-gown, my dears, and she looked like a rose in it; I was
+bridesmaid at her wedding. But others,&mdash;ah! hand me the blue and silver
+brocade, Janet! Yes, here is an inscription that will, I think, amuse
+you, my children. This was my own mother's contribution to the family
+chest."</p>
+
+<p>She beckoned the girls to look, and they bent eagerly forward. Under the
+rich lace in the neck of the splendid brocade, a piece of paper was
+neatly stitched, and on the paper was written: "This Gown was worne at
+Madam Washington's Ball. I danced with Gen. Washington, the Court
+Minuet, and he praised my dancing. Afterwards the Gen. spilled Wine
+uppon the Front Peece, but I put French Chalks to it, and now the Spotte
+may hardly be Seen."<a class="pagenum" name="page_92" id="page_92" title="92"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Oh," sighed Margaret, "how enchanting! how perfectly delightful! Are
+they all marked, Aunt Faith?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not all, but a good many of them. See! Here is something on this
+sea-green cloak; notice the sleeves, Rita: they are something in the
+Spanish style, as it was in my youth. Let us see what is written here,
+for I forget."</p>
+
+<p>They bent over the yellow writing; in this case it was pinned on the
+hanging sleeve, and read as follows: "This Cloak, with the flowered
+satin Gown, was worn by me, Henrietta Montfort, the last time I went to
+a worldly Assemblage. I lay them away, having entered upon a Life of
+Retirement and Meditation since the Death of my deere Husband. Mem. The
+Cloake was lined with Sabels, which I have removed, lest Moth and Rust
+do corrupt, and have made them into Muffs for the Poor."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe she became a great saint," said Mrs. Cheriton, "and a very
+severe one. I have heard that in the coldest winter weather she would
+not let her servants build fires on Sunday because she did not consider
+it a necessary work. There is a story that one bitter cold Sunday<a class="pagenum" name="page_93" id="page_93" title="93"></a> some
+one came to call, and found the whole family in bed, servants and all,
+trying to keep warm. I know they never had any warm victuals on that
+day."</p>
+
+<p>"How pleasant to live now," said Margaret, "instead of then! Aren't you
+glad, girls?"</p>
+
+<p>"My faith!" said Rita, "I would have made a fire with the house, and
+burned her in it; then I should have been warm. But what is this, Aunt
+Faith? If I am truly to call you so, yes? What horror is this? Look at
+the beautiful satin, all destroyed! Cut!&mdash;it is cut with knives,
+Marguerite! Look!"</p>
+
+<p>Janet held up a white satin gown, of quaint and graceful fashion. Sure
+enough, it was cut and slashed in every direction, the sleeves hanging
+in ribbons, the skirt slit and gashed down its entire length. Mrs.
+Cheriton shook her head in answer to the girls' looks of amazement and
+inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry you saw that, Rita!" she said. "It recalls a sad story,
+which might better be forgotten. However&mdash;well, that gown belonged to my
+poor Aunt Penelope. She was a beautiful girl, but headstrong, and she
+married, against<a class="pagenum" name="page_94" id="page_94" title="94"></a> her parents' wishes, a handsome, good-for-nothing man,
+who made her desperately unhappy, and finally left her. She lost her
+mind, poor soul, from sorrow and suffering. When her father brought her
+home to Fernley, she took this, her wedding-gown, and cut it up in this
+strange fashion that you see, and laid it so in the chest; as a warning,
+she told her mother. She died very soon after her return; poor Aunt
+Penelope!"</p>
+
+<p>She signed to Janet to lay the tattered gown back; and it seemed to the
+girls as if the poor lady herself were being laid back in her coffin to
+rest after her troubled life.</p>
+
+<p>"Does&mdash;does she walk?" asked Peggy, in an awestruck voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Walk?" repeated Mrs. Cheriton. "I don't&mdash;oh, yes! her ghost, you mean,
+Peggy? No, my dear. I fancy she was too tired to think of anything but
+resting. There is only one Montfort ghost that I ever heard of, and that
+one is not a woman's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, tell us! Tell us, please!" cried all three girls eagerly. "A real
+ghost? How thrilling!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_95" id="page_95" title="95"></a></p>
+
+<p>"I did not say it was a real ghost, you impetuous children. I do not
+believe in ghosts myself, and I never saw this one. But people used to
+think that the spirit of Hugo Montfort haunted one of the rooms. He died
+suddenly, in great trouble about some family papers that had been lost,
+and the family tradition is that he comes back from time to time to hunt
+once more through desks and drawers, in hope of finding them. He has
+never done so, I believe; but then, he has never been here since I came
+to Fernley. Your Uncle John is no ghost-lover, any more than I am, and I
+fear poor Hugo may feel the lack of sympathy. And now," she added, "this
+is positively enough of old-time gossip. I do not know when I have
+talked so much, children; you make me young and frivolous once more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," cried Peggy, who had listened open-mouthed to the last tale; "but
+just tell us what he looks like, when any one does see him. I have
+wanted all my life to be where there was a ghost. Is he&mdash;is he in
+white?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, no! Hugo Montfort is no hobgoblin ghost in a white sheet,
+with a pumpkin<a class="pagenum" name="page_96" id="page_96" title="96"></a> head! He was a very elegant gentleman in his time, and I
+believe his favorite wear is black velvet. By the way, his portrait is
+in the long gallery upstairs. Have you been there, my dears? There are
+some curious old portraits. And there is the garret; you have surely
+visited the garret?"</p>
+
+<p>But the girls had not, they confessed. There had been so much to do, the
+days had gone so rapidly. Margaret alone realised, and she perhaps for
+the first time, how little they had really seen of the house itself.
+There was so much to see out of doors, and when indoors she was always
+drawn irresistibly to the library and its entrancing folios and quartos.
+Peggy had, one rainy day, proposed to "see if there wasn't a garret or
+some place where they could have some fun." But Margaret, as she now
+remembered with a pang, had just discovered the "Hakluyt Chronicles,"
+and was conscious of nothing in the world save the volume before her,
+and the longing wish for her father to enjoy it with her.</p>
+
+<p>"We will go this very afternoon!" she cried, with animation. "Is it
+unlocked? May we<a class="pagenum" name="page_97" id="page_97" title="97"></a> roam about wherever we like, Aunt Faith? It sounds
+like Bluebeard! Are there no doors that we may not open?"</p>
+
+<p>"None among those that you will see there," said Mrs. Cheriton. And
+Margaret fancied that she looked grave for a moment. "You will find more
+trunks there," she added quickly, "full of old trumpery, less valuable
+than these dresses, and which you may like to amuse yourselves with.
+Here are the keys of some of them&mdash;the wig trunk, the military trunk;
+yes, I think you may be sure of an afternoon's amusement if you are as
+fond of dressing up as I was at your age. Now we must say good-bye, my
+dear children; Janet is shaking her head at me, and it is true that I
+must not talk too long."</p>
+
+<p>She kissed them all affectionately, and they sped away, Margaret only
+lingering to look back with one parting glance at the beautiful old
+figure in its white chair.</p>
+
+<p>"The garret! the garret!" cried Rita. "Hurrah!" shouted Peggy. And they
+flew up the stairs like swallows.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_98" id="page_98" title="98"></a>
+<a name="THE_GARRET_1930" id="THE_GARRET_1930"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+<h3>THE GARRET.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>On the wide landing of the second story, the girls paused to draw breath
+and look about them. The long gallery ran around three sides of the
+house, with the stairs forming the fourth. It was hung with pictures,
+save where two or three doors broke the wall-space. Singular pictures
+they were, mostly family portraits, it was evident. Some of them were
+very good, though the gems of the collection, the Copleys and Stuarts,
+and the precious Sir Joshua Reynolds, were in the drawing-rooms below.
+The girls ran from one to the other, and great was their delight to
+recognise here and there one of the very gowns they had been admiring in
+the Family Chest.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is Henrietta Montfort, in the sea-green cloak!" cried Margaret.
+"Look, girls,<a class="pagenum" name="page_99" id="page_99" title="99"></a> what a haughty, disagreeable face; I don't wonder her
+family trembled before her."</p>
+
+<p>"And here&mdash;oh, here is Hugo!" cried Peggy; "black velvet, she said. Look
+here, Margaret!"</p>
+
+<p>The portrait was that of a man in middle life, handsomely dressed in
+black velvet, with hat and ruff. His face was sad, but the bright, dark
+eyes looked intelligently at the girls, and the whole face had a
+familiar look.</p>
+
+<p>"He has a look of Papa," said Margaret softly; "it is a weaker face, but
+there is a strong resemblance."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> think he looks like John Strong," said Peggy decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Peggy," said Rita, "I must pray that you will take less notice
+of our uncle's gardener. What does it matter to you how he looks? I ask
+you. Now that you are my sister I must teach you to forget this habit of
+speaking to servants as if they were your equals. I overheard you the
+other day conversing&mdash;absolutely conversing&mdash;with this man. Dear child,
+it is wholly unsuitable. I tell you, and I know."<a class="pagenum" name="page_100" id="page_100" title="100"></a></p>
+
+<p>Margaret, who loved peace almost too well, was tempted to let this pass,
+but her conscience shouted at her, and she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have you regard John Strong as an ignorant or inferior
+person, Rita," she said gently, knowing that she seemed priggish, but
+encouraged by Peggy's confused and abashed look.</p>
+
+<p>"I think that if you were to talk with him a little yourself, you would
+feel differently. He is a very superior man, and Uncle John has the
+highest opinion of him; Aunt Faith has told me so."</p>
+
+<p>Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Really, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>," she said, "this is
+a case in which it is not necessary, believe me, to go back a hundred
+years. We hear about the manners of the <i>vieille &eacute;cole</i>; my faith, the
+school may become too old!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rita!" cried Margaret indignantly. "How can you?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita only shrugged her shoulders; her eyes shone with the very spirit of
+wilfulness.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ma cousine</i>," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you cannot come
+to Havana with me.<a class="pagenum" name="page_101" id="page_101" title="101"></a> The quality of being always virtuous&mdash;it is
+abhorrent, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>; correct it, if possible. And the garret cries
+out for us!" she said, turning away, with the straight line between her
+eyes that meant mischief, as Margaret had already learned. She turned to
+Peggy, who stood in some alarm, not knowing whether the old friend or
+the new should claim her allegiance.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Allons!</i>" she cried. "The door, Peggy! which door will take us to this
+place of joy? this one? <i>Hein!</i> it is locked; it will not open."</p>
+
+<p>"That must be Uncle John's room," said Peggy. "It is always locked. I&mdash;I
+have tried it two or three times." And she stole a guilty glance, which
+made the two older girls laugh outright.</p>
+
+<p>"Fatima!" said Margaret, trying to speak lightly, though her heart still
+burned from Rita's insolent words. "Peggy, it is a dangerous thing to
+try doors in a house like Fernley."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dare say it is only a linen closet," said Peggy. "I shouldn't
+have cared, only it is provoking not to be able to see what is in there.
+But this is the garret door, this way. I went up part way once, but it
+seemed so big<a class="pagenum" name="page_102" id="page_102" title="102"></a> and spooky, I didn't want to go all the way alone."</p>
+
+<p>It was a big place, indeed, this garret! The girls looked about them in
+wonder, as soon as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that came
+from the small gable windows. The corners were black and deep,&mdash;miles
+deep, poor Peggy thought, as she peered into them. Old furniture lay
+about, broken chairs and gouty-legged tables. In one corner a huge chest
+of drawers loomed, with round, hunched shoulders, as if it were leaning
+forward to watch them; in another&mdash;oh, mercy! what was that?</p>
+
+<p>The three caught sight at once of an object so terrifying that Rita and
+Peggy both shrieked aloud, and turned to flee; but Margaret held them
+back.</p>
+
+<p>"Girls," she said, and her voice trembled a little, whether from
+laughter or fear; "wait! It&mdash;it can't be what it looks like, you know!
+It must&mdash;" She advanced cautiously a few steps, and began to laugh. It
+certainly had looked at first like the figure of a man hanging from the
+rafters; it proved to be only an innocent suit of clothes, dangling its
+legs in a<a class="pagenum" name="page_103" id="page_103" title="103"></a> helpless way, and holding out its arms stiffly, as if in
+salutation.</p>
+
+<p>Recovering from their fear, the girls advanced again, Peggy giggling
+nervously. "I thought it was him!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i>, not <i>him</i>," was on Margaret's lips, but she kept the words back.
+She could not always be a schoolmistress; and then she scorned herself
+for moral cowardice.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought it was who, Peggy?" she asked. "Hugo Montfort?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;yes!" said Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>"But he did not hang himself, child! He wants to find his papers, that
+is all. Ah, here are the trunks; now for the wigs, girls!"</p>
+
+<p>The wig trunk proved a most delightful repository. The wigs were in neat
+boxes; many of them were of horsehair, but a few were of human hair,
+frizzed and tortured out of all softness or beauty. Dainty Margaret did
+not incline to put them on, but Peggy was soon glorious in a huge white
+structure, with a wreath of roses on the top, that made her look twice
+her height. "Ain't I fine?" she cried. "Here, Margaret, here is one for
+you."<a class="pagenum" name="page_104" id="page_104" title="104"></a></p>
+
+<p>Margaret twirled the wig around, and examined it curiously. "What they
+all must have looked like!" she said. "This is a judge's wig, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it can fit none but you, Se&ntilde;orita Perfecta!" cried Rita; but the
+sting was gone from her tone, and she had wholly forgotten her moment of
+spite. "Here! here is mine. Behold me, a gallant of the court! I
+advance, I bow&mdash;but my cloak, where is my cloak? Quick, Marguerite, the
+key of the other chest!"</p>
+
+<p>The other chest, a great black one, studded with brass nails, contained,
+as Mrs. Cheriton had said, any amount of material for the delightful
+pastime of dressing up. The gauzes were crumpled, to be sure, the gold
+lace tarnished, and the satins and brocades more or less spotted and
+decayed; but what of that? The splendours of the Family Chest were too
+solemn to sport with; here was material for hours and days of joy. Rita
+was soon arrayed in a scarlet military coat, a habit skirt of dark
+velvet, and a plumed hat which perched like a bird on top of her flowing
+wig. Peggy was put into a charming Watteau costume of flowered silk, in
+which she looked so pretty that Rita declared it was a shame for her
+ever to wear anything else; while Margaret found a long, gold-spotted
+gauze that took her fancy mightily. Thus attired, the three girls
+frisked and danced about the huge, dim old garret, astonishing the
+spiders, and sending the mice scuttling into their holes in terror. The
+seventeen years that sometimes weighed heavily on Margaret's slender
+shoulders, and that sat like a flame of pride on Rita's white forehead,
+seemed utterly forgotten; these were three merry children that ran to
+and fro, waking the echoes to mirth. Rita proposed a dance, and cried
+out in horror when Peggy confessed that she could not dance at all, and
+Margaret that she had had few lessons and no experience.<a class="pagenum" name="page_105" id="page_105" title="105"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:417px'>
+<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-105.jpg" alt="IN THE GARRET" title="" width="417" /><br />
+<span class="caption">IN THE GARRET</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_107" id="page_107" title="107"></a>"Poor victims!" cried the Cuban. "Slaves of Northern prejudice! I will
+teach you, my poors! Not to dance, not to understand the management of a
+fan&mdash;how are you to go through life, without equipment, I ask you?"</p>
+
+<p>She held out her arms with a gesture so tragic that Margaret could not
+help laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Rita, forgive me!" she said. "I was trying<a class="pagenum" name="page_108" id="page_108" title="108"></a> to fancy my poor dear
+father giving me a lesson in the management of a fan. He was really my
+chief teacher, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and who was there for me to dance with?" cried Peggy, holding out
+her gay flounces. "Brother Jim would be rather like a grizzly bear, I
+think, and none of the others would. Jean and I used to dance with each
+other, but it was just jumping up and down, for we didn't know anything
+else."</p>
+
+<p>Rita sighed, and felt the weight of empire on her shoulders. "You shall
+learn," she said again. "I will teach you. But not here, it is too dim
+and dusty. The courtesy, however, we can try. Mesdames! Raise the skirt,
+thus, the left foot in advance; the <i>left</i>, Peggy, child of despair! now
+bend the right knee, and slowly, slowly, sink thus, with grace and
+dignity. Oh, pity on me, what have you done now?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Peggy had done her best, but when it came to sinking slowly and
+gracefully, it was too much for her. She stepped on her train, tripped,
+lost her balance, and fell heavily back against the wall. She clutched
+the wooden panel behind her, and felt it move under her fingers.<a class="pagenum" name="page_109" id="page_109" title="109"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mercy!" she cried, "it's moving! The wall is moving! Margaret,
+catch hold of my hand!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret caught her hand, and helped her to her feet. When she moved
+away from the wall, it was seen that the wooden panel had indeed moved.
+It had slid open a few inches, and blackness looked through at them.
+Peggy clutched her cousins and trembled. Where was now the courage, the
+coolness, which had made her the heroine of the morning's adventure?
+Gone! Anything in the ordinary course of nature, bogs and such matters,
+Peggy was mistress of, but black spaces, with possible white figures
+lurking in them, were out of her province.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret," she whispered, "do you see? It is open!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see!" said Margaret. "What a delightfully mysterious thing,
+girls! A secret chamber, perhaps, or a staircase! It must be a
+staircase, for it is in the thickness of the wall behind the chimney. Do
+run and get a lamp, Peggy, like a good girl, and we will see. How damp
+and earthy it smells!"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy flew, only too glad to get away from<a class="pagenum" name="page_110" id="page_110" title="110"></a> the black, yawning hole. She
+was back in three minutes with the lamp, and the three cousins peered
+into the open space, Margaret holding the lamp high above her head, so
+that the light might penetrate as far as possible.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed a staircase; a narrow, winding way, wide enough for one
+person, but no more. It plunged down like a black pit, and its end could
+not be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"But this is superb!" cried Margaret. "Shall we explore it, girls? I
+don't suppose there can be any objection, do you? It is probably never
+used."</p>
+
+<p>"By all means, let us explore!" said Rita. "But do you know what I am
+thinking, Marguerite?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Something practical and businesslike, rather, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>. I am
+thinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, this
+is the finest house in the world. Come on!"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could not
+bear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged<a class="pagenum" name="page_111" id="page_111" title="111"></a> down the
+narrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all her
+breezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happen
+to her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; now
+it had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror and
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Down&mdash;down&mdash;down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discoloured
+plaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Now
+they came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,&mdash;the
+brass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might be
+trenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, and
+Peggy pressed down behind her.</p>
+
+<p>They saw a room, like the other bedrooms in the house, large and airy.
+It was evidently ready for use, the bed neatly made, everything in
+spotless order. Brushes and shaving-tools lay on the dressing-bureau.
+The table was covered with books.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle John's room!" whispered Margaret. "It must be, of course; and
+this is where the locked door is on the second story. Come<a class="pagenum" name="page_112" id="page_112" title="112"></a> along,
+girls; we ought not to go prying into people's rooms!"</p>
+
+<p>"My faith, I cannot see that!" retorted Rita. "If there were anything of
+interest in the room,&mdash;but nothing&mdash;a plain room, and nothing more! A
+pretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. But
+come, as you say; we have yet a way to go down."</p>
+
+<p>They closed the door carefully, and once more began the descent.
+Down&mdash;down&mdash;down. But this second half of the way was different. The
+staircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, it
+showed marks of usage. The steps above were covered with thick dust,
+evidently long undisturbed; but these were clean and shining. Decidedly,
+the mystery was deepening.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we find it is just a back way to the servants' rooms!"
+whispered practical Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose feedle-dee-dee!" said Rita; and her funny little foreign accent
+on the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Now they were evidently approaching the<a class="pagenum" name="page_113" id="page_113" title="113"></a> ground floor, for sounds were
+audible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if some
+one were moving fire-irons.</p>
+
+<p>"Elizabeth, probably!" whispered Margaret. "What shall we say to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's yell and rush out and scare her!" proposed Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Rita. "Oh, hush! we know not who it is. Look! a gleam of
+light,&mdash;the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silent
+breath she blew out the lamp, and they were in total darkness.</p>
+
+<p>They now saw plainly the light that shone through the crack of a door, a
+few steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All was
+still for a moment; then suddenly Peggy made a false step in the dark,
+and stumbled; she uttered a smothered shriek, and then began to giggle.</p>
+
+<p>"Animal!" muttered Rita through her teeth. "Can you not be silent?"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy was now in front, and seeing that light came also through the
+keyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttered
+a dreadful shriek, and staggered back into<a class="pagenum" name="page_114" id="page_114" title="114"></a> Margaret's arms. "The man!"
+she cried; "the man in black velvet!"</p>
+
+<p>A chair was hastily pushed back in the room below; steps crossed the
+floor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the further
+end of the room was seen to close softly.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_115" id="page_115" title="115"></a>
+<a name="CUBA_LIBRE_2239" id="CUBA_LIBRE_2239"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+<h3>CUBA LIBRE.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"But, Marguerite, when I tell you that I <i>know</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Rita, my dear, how <i>can</i> you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look at me; listen to me! Have you your senses?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most of them, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then, attend! When stupid, stupid Peggy&mdash;I love her,
+observe; she is my sister, but we must admit that she is stupid,&mdash;truth,
+Marguerite, is the jewel of my soul&mdash;when she stumbled against the door,
+when she screamed, we heard sounds, did we not?"</p>
+
+<p>"We did!" Margaret admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Sounds,&mdash;and what sounds? Not the broom of a servant, not the rustle of
+a dress,&mdash;no, we hear the step of a man! We enter, and a door closes at
+the further end of the room; click, a lock snaps! I rush to the window;
+a figure<a class="pagenum" name="page_116" id="page_116" title="116"></a> disappears around the corner of the house; I cannot see what
+it is, but I would swear it was no woman. I return,&mdash;we look about us at
+this room, which never have we seen before. A gentleman's room, as an
+infant could perceive. A private library, study, what you will,
+luxurious, enchanting. Books over which you sob with emotion,&mdash;or would
+sob, if your temperament permitted you expression; pictures that fill my
+soul with enchantment; a writing-table, and on it papers&mdash;heaps and
+mounds of papers! Am I right? do I exaggerate? Alps, Pyrenees of papers!
+You saw them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see anything higher than Mt. Washington," said Margaret
+soberly. "There were a good many, I confess."</p>
+
+<p>"They burst from drawers," pursued Rita, enjoying herself immensely;
+"they toppled like snow-drifts; they strewed the floor to a depth of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rita, Rita! do rein your Pegasus in, or he will fly away
+altogether. There certainly were a great many papers, and they confirmed
+our poor little Peggy in her belief that the man she had seen was Hugo
+Montfort, making his<a class="pagenum" name="page_117" id="page_117" title="117"></a> ghostly search for the papers he lost. Whereas you
+think&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Think! when I tell you that I <i>know</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"You think," Margaret went on calmly, "that it was John Strong, the
+gardener. Well, and what if it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"What if it was? Marguerite, you are impossible; you have the
+intelligence of a babe new born. What! we find this man in his master's
+room, spying upon his private things, <i>romaging</i>&mdash;what is that
+word?&mdash;<i>romaging</i> his papers, most likely making himself possessed of
+what he will, and you say, what of this? <i>Caramba</i>, I will tell you what
+of this it would be in Cuba! String him up to the wall and give him
+quick fifty lashes; that would be of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Long Island is a good way from Cuba!" said Margaret. "I don't think we
+will try anything of that sort here, Rita. And when you come to think of
+it, my dear, we have been here a few weeks, and John Strong was here
+before we were born; Aunt Faith told me so. Don't you think he may
+perhaps know what he is about rather better than we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Know what he is about!" Rita protested,<a class="pagenum" name="page_118" id="page_118" title="118"></a> with a shower of nods, that he
+knew very well what he was about. The question was, did their uncle
+know? And the black velvet coat, what had Margaret to say to that? she
+demanded. It was evident that this good man, this worthy servant, was in
+the habit of wearing his master's clothes during his absence. Did
+gardeners habitually appear in black velvet? Ha! tell her that!</p>
+
+<p>Margaret did not know that they did, but it was perfectly possible that
+Mr. Montfort might have given some of his old clothes, a cast-off
+smoking-jacket, for example, to his gardener and confidential servant.
+There would be nothing remarkable in that, surely. Besides, were they
+absolutely certain that the mysterious individual was dressed in black
+velvet? Poor, dear Peggy was in such a state of excitement, she might
+well have fancied&mdash;and so on, and so on. The two cousins went over the
+ground again and again, but could come to no decision.</p>
+
+<p>"Say what you will, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>!" said Rita, finally; "glorify your
+gardener, give him the family wardrobe, the family papers; I keep watch
+on him, that is all! Let Master Strong<a class="pagenum" name="page_119" id="page_119" title="119"></a> beware! Not for nothing was I
+brought up on a plantation. Have I not known overseers, to say nothing
+of hosts of servants, white, black, yellow? Your books, <i>ch&egrave;re
+Marguerite</i>, do they teach you the knowledge of persons? Let him beware!
+he knows not a Cuban!" and she nodded, and bent her brows so tragically
+that Margaret could hardly keep her countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever acted, Rita?" she asked, following the train of her
+thoughts. "I am sure you must do it so well."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mi alma!</i>" cried Rita, "it was my joy! Conchita and I&mdash;<i>ahi</i>! what
+plays we have acted in the myrtle-bower in the garden! Will you see me
+act? You shall."</p>
+
+<p>John Strong and his iniquities were forgotten in a moment. Bidding
+Margaret call Peggy, and make themselves into an audience in the lower
+hall, Rita whirled away to her own room, where they could hear her
+singing to herself, and pulling open drawers with reckless ardour. The
+two other girls ensconced themselves in a window-seat of the hall and
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what she is going to do?" asked Peggy.<a class="pagenum" name="page_120" id="page_120" title="120"></a></p>
+
+<p>Margaret shook her head. "Something pretty and graceful, no doubt. She
+is a born actress, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw an actress," said Peggy. "She&mdash;she is awfully fascinating,
+Margaret, isn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret assented warmly. There was no tinge of jealousy in her
+composition, or she might have felt a slight pang at the tone of
+admiring awe in which Peggy now spoke of her Cuban cousin. Things were
+changed indeed since the night of their arrival.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't only that she is so awfully pretty," Peggy went on, "but she
+moves so&mdash;and her voice is so soft, and&mdash;oh, Margaret, do you suppose I
+can ever be the least like her, just the least bit in the world?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked anxiously at Margaret, who gazed back affectionately at her,
+at the round, rosy childish face, the little tilted nose, the fluffy,
+fair hair. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to stroke and
+pat Peggy as if she were a kitten, but no one would think of patting
+Rita.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear," said Margaret softly, "dear Peggy! I like you better as you are.
+Of course Rita is<a class="pagenum" name="page_121" id="page_121" title="121"></a> very beautiful, and neither you nor I could ever look
+in the least like her, Peggy. But&mdash;it is a great deal better to look
+like our own selves, isn't it, and learn to appear at our best in a way
+that suits us? That is what I think. Now that you have learned to do
+your hair so nicely, and to keep your dress neat&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You taught me that," said honest Peggy; "you taught me all that,
+Margaret. I was a perfect pig when I came here; you know I was."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call my cousin names, miss! I cannot permit it. But if I have
+taught you anything, Peggy, it is Rita who has given you the little
+graces that you have been picking up. I never could have taught you to
+bow,&mdash;and really, you are quite superb since the last lesson. Then,
+these pretty dresses&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>do</i> you think I ought to take them?" broke in Peggy. "Margaret, do
+you think so? She brought them into my room, you know, and flung them
+down in a heap, and said they were only fit for dust-cloths&mdash;you know
+the way she talks, dear thing. The lovely brown crepon, she said it was
+the most hideous thing she had<a class="pagenum" name="page_122" id="page_122" title="122"></a> ever seen, and that it was the deed of
+an assassin to offer it to me. And when I said I couldn't take so many,
+she snatched up the scissors, and was going to cut them all up&mdash;she
+really was, Margaret. What could I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, dear child, except take them, I really think. It was a real
+pleasure to Rita to give them to you, I am sure, and she could not
+possibly wear a quarter of all the gowns she brought here. But see, here
+comes our bird of paradise herself. Now we shall see something lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita came down the stairs, singing a little Spanish song. Her dress of
+black gauze fluttered in wide breezy folds, a gauze scarf floated from
+her shoulders; she was indeed a vision of beauty, and the two cousins
+gazed at her with delight. Advancing into the middle of the hall, she
+swept a splendid courtesy, and suddenly unfurled a huge scarlet fan.
+With this, she proceeded to go through a series of astonishing
+performances. She danced with it, she sang with it. She closed it, and
+it was a dagger, and she swooped upon an invisible enemy, and stabbed
+him to the heart; she flung it open,<a class="pagenum" name="page_123" id="page_123" title="123"></a> and it became the messenger of
+love, over which her black eyes gleamed and glowed in irresistible
+coquetry. All the time she kept up a dramatic chant, sometimes sinking
+almost to a whisper, again rising to a shriek of joy or passion.
+Suddenly she stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"All this is play!" she said, turning to her rapt audience.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you shall see the real thing: you shall see <i>Cuba libre</i>. But for
+this I must have another person; it is impossible to do it alone.
+Margaret,&mdash;no! Peggy can better do this! Peggy, come, and you shall be
+Spain, the tyrant."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy looked as if she would much rather be aspiring Cuba, but she came
+forward obediently, and was bidden to put herself in an attitude of
+insolent defiance. Peggy scowled and doubled up her fists, thinking of a
+picture of a prizefighter that she had once seen.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ahi!</i>" cried Rita, springing upon her. "Not thus! you have the air of
+a cross child. Thus, do you see? Fold the arms upon the chest, abase the
+head, bring the eyebrows down till you have to look through them! So!
+that<a class="pagenum" name="page_124" id="page_124" title="124"></a> is better! Now gnaw your under lip, and draw in your breath with a
+hiss, thus!" and Rita herself uttered a hiss so malignant that poor
+Peggy started back in affright. "But be still!" cried Rita, "you are now
+perfect. You are an object&mdash;is she not, Marguerite?&mdash;to turn cold the
+blood." Margaret did not commit herself, being wholly occupied in
+keeping back the smiles that Peggy's aspect called forth. She certainly
+was an object, poor dear child, but Rita was so absorbed in her play
+that she saw nothing absurd even in a tyrant scowling through flaxen
+eyebrows with a pair of helpless, frightened blue eyes. She now drew
+back, knelt, flung up her arms, and raised her eyes to heaven. Her lips
+moved; she was praying for the success of her cause. Rising, she came
+forward, and with noble earnestness demanded her freedom. The tyrant was
+bidden to look about on the ruin and desolation that he had wrought; he
+was implored by all that was holy, all that was just and noble, to
+withdraw from the land where he had long ceased to have any real right
+of ownership. Peggy, in obedience to whispered orders, shook her head
+with stubborn violence, and stamped her foot. Cuba then, drawing herself
+to her full height, threw down her gage of defiance (a tiny
+pearl-covered glove) and declared war to extermination. The banner of
+freedom (the fan) was unfurled and waved on high, the national song was
+chanted, and the war began. Spain, the tyrant, now had a hard time of
+it. She was pounced upon from one side, then from another; she was
+surrounded, hustled this way and that; the fan was fluttered wide in her
+face, poked sharply between her ribs. A single straightforward blow from
+her strong young arm would have laid the slender Cuba at her feet, but
+she could strike no blow. She was only to hiss, and clutch the air in
+impotent fury, and when she did this, Margaret had such an
+uncontrollable fit of coughing that it almost produced an armistice.<a class="pagenum" name="page_125" id="page_125" title="125"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-005" id="illus-005"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-125.jpg" alt="&#34;CUBA LIBRE.&#34;" title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">&#34;CUBA LIBRE.&#34;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_127" id="page_127" title="127"></a>Now Spain was told that she was growing weak, a decrepit, bleeding old
+woman. Her fate was upon her; let her die!</p>
+
+<p>Obeying the imperious gesture, Peggy sank on her knees, and had the
+satisfaction of hearing that "the old serpent died bravely." The fan did
+more and more dreadful execution, and now she lay gasping, dying, on the
+floor. Standing<a class="pagenum" name="page_128" id="page_128" title="128"></a> above her was a triumphant young goddess, waving the
+flag of <i>Cuba libre</i>, and declaring, with her foot on the neck of the
+prostrate tyrant, that despotism was dead, and that Freedom was
+descending from heaven, robed in the Cuban colours, and surrounded by a
+choir of angels, all singing the national anthem. And here Rita actually
+pulled from her bosom a small flag showing the Cuban colours, and waved
+it, crying that the blood-red banner of war (the fan) was now furled
+forever, and that Cuba and the United States, now twin sisters, would
+proceed to rule the world after the most approved methods. This ended
+the scene, and the two actors stood before Margaret, one very red and
+sheepish, the other glowing like flame with pride and enthusiasm,
+awaiting her plaudits. Margaret clapped and shouted as loud as she
+could, and expressed her admiration warmly enough; but Rita shook her
+head and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, for an audience!" she cried. "To pour out one's heart, to live the
+life of one's country, and have but one to see it,&mdash;it is sad, it is
+tragic. Do I exaggerate, Marguerite?&mdash;it is death-dealing!" Then she
+praised Peggy,<a class="pagenum" name="page_129" id="page_129" title="129"></a> and told her that she had made a magnificent tyrant, and
+had died as game as possible. "Ah!" she said. "What it would be if you
+could only do something real for Cuba! I would shed my blood, would pour
+out its ultimate drops (Rita's idioms were apt to become foreign when
+she was excited), but if you also could do something, my cousins, what
+glory, what joy for you; and it may be possible. No, hush! not a word!
+At present, I breathe not a whisper, I am the grave. But there may come
+a day, an hour, when I shall call to you with the voice of a trumpet;
+and you,&mdash;you will awaken, halves of my heart; you will spring to my
+side, you will&mdash;Marguerite, you are laughing! At what, I ask you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, dear," said Margaret. "I was only thinking that a
+trumpet might really be needed, since a bell is not loud enough. The
+dinner-bell rang five minutes ago, and Elizabeth has come to see what we
+are about."</p>
+
+<p>But at sight of Elizabeth, standing demurely in the doorway, <i>Cuba
+libre</i> vanished, and there remained only a very pretty young lady in
+the<a class="pagenum" name="page_130" id="page_130" title="130"></a> sulks, who had to be coaxed for five minutes more before she would
+come to her dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I seventeen, or thirty-seven?" thought Margaret, as she finally led
+the way to the dining-room.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_131" id="page_131" title="131"></a>
+<a name="DAY_BY_DAY_2510" id="DAY_BY_DAY_2510"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+<h3>DAY BY DAY.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"Oh! what a mystery</td></tr>
+<tr><td>The study is of history!"</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>For some time things continued to go smoothly and pleasantly at Fernley.
+The days slipped away, with nothing special to mark any one, but all
+bright with flowers and gay with laughter. The three girls were
+excellent friends, and grew to understand each other better and better.
+The morning belonged rather to Margaret and Peggy; Rita was always late,
+and often preferred to have her breakfast brought to her room, a
+practice of which the other girls disapproved highly. They were always
+out in the garden by half past eight, with breakfast a thing of the
+past, and the day before them. The stocking-basket generally came with
+them, and waited patiently in a corner of the green summer-house while
+they took their "constitutional," which often consisted of a run through
+the waving fields, or<a class="pagenum" name="page_132" id="page_132" title="132"></a> a walk along the top of the broad stone wall that
+ran around the garden; or again, a tree-top excursion, as they called
+it, in the great swing under the chestnut-trees. Then, while they mended
+their stockings, Margaret would give Peggy a "talk-lesson," the only
+kind that she was willing to receive, on English history, with an
+occasional digression to the Trojan war, or the Norse mythology, as the
+case might be. Peggy detested history, and knew next to nothing of it,
+and this was a grievous thing to Margaret.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"First William the Norman,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>Then William his son;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Henry, Stephen and Henry,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>Then Richard and John,"</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>had been one of her own nursery rhymes, and she could not understand any
+one's not thrilling responsive when the great names were spoken that
+filled her with awe and joy, or with burning resentment.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear," she would cry, when Peggy yawned at Canute, and said he
+was an old stupid, "my dear, think of the place he holds! think of the
+things he did!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_133" id="page_133" title="133"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's dead!" Peggy would reply; "I don't see what good it does to
+bother about him now. Who cares what he did, all that time ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"But," Margaret explained patiently, "if he had not done the things,
+Peggy, don't you see, everything would have been different. We must
+know, mustn't we, how it all came about that our life is what it is now?
+We must see what we came from, and who the men were that made the
+changes, and brought us on and up."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why!" said Peggy; "I don't see what difference it makes to
+me that Alfred played the harp. I don't want to play the harp, and I
+never saw any one who did. It is rather fun about the cakes, but he was
+awfully stupid to let them burn, seems to me."</p>
+
+<p>Not a thrill could Margaret awaken by any recital of the sorrows and
+sufferings of the Boy Kings, or even of her favourite Prince Arthur.
+When her voice broke in the recital of his piteous tale, Peggy would
+look up at her coolly and say, "How horrid of them! But he would have
+been dead by this time anyway, Margaret; why do you care so much?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_134" id="page_134" title="134"></a></p>
+
+<p>Still Margaret persevered, never losing hope, simply because she could
+not believe that the subject itself could fail to interest any one in
+his senses. It was her own fault a good deal, she tried to think; she
+did not tell the story right, or her voice was too monotonous,&mdash;Papa was
+always telling her to put more colour into her reading,&mdash;or something.
+The history itself could not be at fault.</p>
+
+<p>"And, Peggy dear; don't think I want to be lecturing you all the time,
+but&mdash;these are things that one <i>has</i> to know something about, or one
+will appear uneducated, and you don't want to do that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care. I don't see the use of this kind of education, Margaret,
+and that is just the truth. Ma never had any of what you call
+education,&mdash;she was a farmer's daughter, you know, and had always lived
+on the prairie,&mdash;and she has always got on well enough. Hugh talks just
+like you do&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, dear, <i>as</i> you do, not <i>like</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>as</i> you do, then. He talks William the Conqueror and all those
+old fuddy-duddies by the yard, but he can't make me see the use<a class="pagenum" name="page_135" id="page_135" title="135"></a> of
+them, and you can't. Now if you would give me some mathematics; <i>that</i>
+is what I want. If you would give me some solid geometry, Margaret!"</p>
+
+<p>But here poor Margaret hung her head and blushed, and confessed that she
+had no solid geometry to give. Her geometry had been fluid, or rather,
+vapourous, and had floated away, unthought of and unregretted.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry and ashamed," she said. "Of course I ought to be able to
+teach it, and if I go into a school, of course I shall have to study
+again and make it up, so that I can. But it never can be possible that
+triangles should be as interesting as human beings, Peggy."</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal more interesting," Peggy maintained, "when the human
+beings are dead and buried hundreds of years."</p>
+
+<p>"One word more, and I have done," said poor Margaret. "You used an
+expression, dear,&mdash;old fuddy-duddies, was it? I never heard it before.
+Do you think it is an elegant expression, Peggy dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's as good as I am girl!" said Peggy; and Margaret shut her eyes, and
+felt despair<a class="pagenum" name="page_136" id="page_136" title="136"></a> in her heart. But soon she felt a warm kiss on her
+forehead, and Peggy was promising to be good, and to try harder, and
+even to do her best to learn the difference between the two
+Harolds,&mdash;Hardrada and Godwinsson.</p>
+
+<p>And if she would promise to do that, might she just climb up now and see
+what that nest was, out on the fork there?</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Rita would come down soon, with her guitar or her
+embroidery-frame; and they would sing and chatter till the early dinner.
+Rita's songs were all of love and war, boleros and bull-fights. She sang
+them with flashing ardour, and the other girls heard with breathless
+delight, watching the play of colour and feeling, that made her face a
+living transcript of what she sang. But when she was tired, she would
+hand the guitar to Margaret, and beg her to sing "something cool,
+peaceful, sea-green, like yourself, Marguerite!"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I sea-green?" asked Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! cherub! you understand me! My blood is in a fever with these songs
+of Cuba. I want coolness, icy caves, pine-trees in the wind!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_137" id="page_137" title="137"></a></p>
+
+<p>So Margaret would take the guitar, and sing in her calm, smooth
+contralto the songs her father used to love: songs of the North, that
+had indeed the sound of the sea and the wind in them.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"It was all for our rightful king</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>That we left fair Scotland's strand.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>It was all for our rightful king,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>We ever saw Irish land,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 40px'>My dear,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>We ever saw Irish land!"</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>The plaintive melody rose and fell like the waves on the shore; and Rita
+would curl herself like a panther in the sun, and murmur with pleasure,
+and call for more. Then, perhaps, Margaret would sing that lovely ballad
+of Hogg's, which begins,</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"Far down by yon hills of the heather sae green,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>And down by the corrie that sings to the sea,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td></td></tr>
+<tr><td>"She looked on a boat with the breezes that swung</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>Afar on the wave, like a bird on the main,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td>And aye as it lessened, she sighed and she sung,</td></tr>
+<tr><td><span style='margin-left: 20px'>'Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!'"</span></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_138" id="page_138" title="138"></a>But Rita had no patience with Flora McDonald.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did she not go with him?" she asked, when Margaret, after the song
+was over, told the brave story of Prince Charlie's escape after
+Culloden, and of how the noble girl, at the risk of her own life, led
+the prince, disguised as her waiting-woman, through many weary ways,
+till they reached the seashore where the vessel was waiting to take him
+to France.</p>
+
+<p>"He could not speak!" said Margaret. "He just took her hand, and stood
+looking at her; but she could hardly see him for her tears. Then he took
+off his cap, and stooped down and kissed her twice on the forehead; and
+so he went. But after he was in the boat, he turned again, and said to
+her:</p>
+
+<p>"'After all that has happened, I still hope, madam, we shall meet in St.
+James's yet!' But of course they never did."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did she not go with him?" demanded Rita. "She had spirit, it
+appears. Why did she let him go without her?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret gazed at her wide-eyed.<a class="pagenum" name="page_139" id="page_139" title="139"></a></p>
+
+<p>"He was going into exile," she said. "She had done all she could, she
+had saved his life; there was nothing more to be done."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;that she should leave him! Did she not love him? was he
+faithless?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret blushed, and drew herself up unconsciously. "You do not
+understand, Rita," she said gravely. "This was her prince, the son of
+her sovereign; she was a simple Scottish gentlewoman. When he was flying
+for his life, she was able to befriend him, and to save his life at
+peril of her own; but when that was over, there was no more need of her,
+and she went back to her home. What should she have done in France, at
+the king's court?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even if so," muttered Rita, with the well-known shrug of her shoulders,
+"I would have gone, if it had been I. He should not have thrown me off
+like that."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret raised her eyes, full of angry light, and opened her lips to
+speak; but instead kept silence for a moment. Then, "You do not
+understand," she said again, but gently; "my mother was a Scotchwoman,
+so I feel differently, of course. It is no matter, but I will tell<a class="pagenum" name="page_140" id="page_140" title="140"></a> you
+this about Miss McDonald: that when she died, years after, an old woman
+of seventy, she was buried in the sheet that had covered Prince Charles
+Stuart, that night after Culloden."</p>
+
+<p>"My!" said Peggy, "it must have been awfully yellow!"</p>
+
+<p>After dinner it was Rita's custom to take a siesta. She declared that
+she required more sleep than most people, and that without eleven hours'
+repose she should perish. So while she slept, Margaret and Peggy
+arranged flowers, or Peggy would write home, with many sighs of
+weariness and distress, while Margaret, sitting near her, snatched a
+half-hour for some enchanting book. It sometimes seemed to her more than
+she could bear, to be among so many fine books, and to have almost no
+time to read. At home, several hours were spent in reading, as a matter
+of course; often and often, the long, happy evening would pass without a
+word exchanged between her father and herself. Only, when either looked
+up from the book, there was always the meeting glance of love and
+sympathy, which made the printed page shine golden when the eyes
+returned to it. Here, reading<a class="pagenum" name="page_141" id="page_141" title="141"></a> was considered a singular waste of time.
+Rita read herself to sleep with a novel, but Peggy was entirely frank in
+her confession that she should not care if she never saw a book again.
+Even the home letters were a grievous task to her, for she never could
+think of anything to say. Margaret, deep in the precious pages of
+Froissart, it might be, would be roused by a portentous sigh, and
+looking up, would find Peggy champing the penhandle, and gazing at her
+with lack-lustre eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter now, Peg of Limavaddy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't&mdash;think&mdash;of a single thing to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Child! I thought you had so much to tell them this time. Think of that
+lovely drive we took yesterday; I thought you were going to tell about
+that. Don't you remember the sunset from the top of the long hill, and
+how we made believe the clouds were our fairy castles, and each said
+what she would do when she got there? Rita was going to organise a
+Sunset Dance, with ten thousand fairies in crimson and gold, and you
+were going to be met by a hundred thoroughbred horses, all white as
+snow,<a class="pagenum" name="page_142" id="page_142" title="142"></a> and were going to drive them abreast in a golden chariot; don't
+you remember all that? Tell them about the drive!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have told them," said Peggy gloomily. "I couldn't put in all that,
+Margaret; it would take all day, and besides, Ma would think I was
+crazy."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind my seeing what you wrote?&mdash;oh, Peggy!"</p>
+
+<p>For Peggy had written this: "We had an elagant ride yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" asked Peggy. "Isn't it spelled right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that isn't it!" said Margaret. "At least, that is the smallest
+part. 'Elegant' has two <i>e</i>'s, not two <i>a</i>'s. But,&mdash;Peggy dear, you
+surely would not speak of a <i>drive</i> as <i>elegant</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I said ride, not drive, but I don't see any difference. It
+<i>was</i> elegant; you said so yourself. I don't understand what you mean,
+Margaret." And Peggy looked injured, and began to hunch her shoulders
+and put out her under lip; but for once Margaret, wounded in a tender
+part, took no heed of the signs of coming trouble.<a class="pagenum" name="page_143" id="page_143" title="143"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-006" id="illus-006"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-143.jpg" alt="PEGGY WRITES HOME." title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">PEGGY WRITES HOME.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_145" id="page_145" title="145"></a>"<i>I</i> say so? Never!" she cried indignantly. "I hope I&mdash;that is, I&mdash;I
+don't think the word can be used in that way, Peggy; I do not, indeed.
+You speak of an elegant dress, or an elegant woman, but <i>not</i> of an
+elegant drive or an elegant sunset. The word implies something refined,
+something&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, bother!" said Peggy rudely. "I didn't come here to school, Margaret
+Montfort!"</p>
+
+<p>"I sometimes wonder if you ever went anywhere to school!" said Margaret;
+and she took her book and went away without another word, her heart
+beating high with anger and impatience.</p>
+
+<p>Such affairs were short-lived, however. Margaret had too much sense and
+good feeling, Peggy too much affection, to let them last. The kiss and
+the kind word were not long in following, and it was to be noticed that
+Rita was never allowed to find out that her two Northern cousins ever
+disagreed by so much as a word. There was some unspoken bond that bade
+them both make common cause before the foreign cousin whom both loved
+and admired. So when Rita made her appearance beautifully dressed for<a class="pagenum" name="page_146" id="page_146" title="146"></a>
+the afternoon drive or walk (for they could not have the good white
+horse every day,&mdash;a fact which made the se&ntilde;orita chafe and rage against
+John Strong more than ever), she always found smiling faces to welcome
+her, and the three would go off together in high spirits, to explore
+some new and lovely part of the country.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy was always the driver. On their first drive John Strong had gone
+with them, to the intense disgust of Rita, and the indignation of Peggy,
+who, though she was very fond of the grave factotum, resented the doubt
+he implied of her skill. It was a silent drive, Margaret alone
+responding to the remarks of their conductor, as he pointed out this or
+that beautiful view. He never went with them again, but having first
+tested Peggy's powers by a <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> drive with her, cheerfully
+resigned the reins, and used to watch their departure with calm
+approval.</p>
+
+<p>"The little one makes much the best figure on the box!" John Strong
+would say to himself. "If life were all driving, now&mdash;but&mdash;</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"Weel I ken my ain lassie;</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Kind love is in her e'e!"</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_147" id="page_147" title="147"></a>
+<a name="LOOKING_BACKWARD_2831" id="LOOKING_BACKWARD_2831"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+<h3>LOOKING BACKWARD.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>But in the twilight came Margaret's hour of comfort. Then Peggy had her
+dancing-lesson from Rita, and while the two were whirling and stumping
+about the hall, she would steal away through the little door and down
+the three steps to the white rooms, where peace and quiet, gentle words
+and kind affection were always awaiting her. Aunt Faith always
+understood the little troubles, and had the right word to say, of
+sympathy or counsel. The two had grown very near to each other.</p>
+
+<p>"How is it," Margaret asked one evening, "I seem so much nearer your
+age, Aunt Faith, than the girls'? Do you suppose I really belong to your
+generation, and got left behind by accident?"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Faith laughed. "My dear, you ought to have had half a dozen
+brothers and sisters!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_148" id="page_148" title="148"></a> she said. "An only child grows up too fast,
+especially where, as in your case, the companionship with father or
+mother is close and intimate. No doubt your dear father did his best to
+grow down to your age, when you were little; but he did not succeed, I
+fear, so you had to grow up to his. Was not that the way?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret nodded thoughtfully. "I remember his playing horse with me!"
+she said. "Poor dear Papa! I asked him to play, and he said in his deep,
+slow way, 'Surely! surely! the child must have play. Play is necessary
+for development.' And then he sat and looked at me, with his Greek book
+in his hand, as if I were a word that he could not find the meaning of.
+Oh! I remember it so well, though I must have been a little tot. Then he
+got up and said, 'I will be a horse, Margaret! Consider me a horse!' and
+he gave me the tassels of his dressing-gown, and began to amble about
+the room slowly, among the piles of books. Oh, dear! I can see him now,
+dear Papa! He made a <i>very</i> slow horse, Aunt Faith, and I felt, in a
+baby way, that there was something awful about it, and that he was not
+meant to play. I think I must have dropped<a class="pagenum" name="page_149" id="page_149" title="149"></a> the tassels pretty soon, for
+he came to a great book lying open on a chair, and forgot everything
+else, and stood there for an hour reading it. I never asked him to play
+again, but we used to laugh over it when we were big&mdash;I mean when I was
+big, and had grown up to him a little bit."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheriton laid her hand on the girl's head, and smoothed her hair
+tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have been lonely sometimes, dear?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; never, I think. You see, I learned so many things that I could
+play by myself, and it never troubled Papa to have me in the room where
+he was writing; I think he rather liked it. I had the waste-paper
+basket; that was one of my chief delights. I might do what I wanted with
+the papers, if I only put them back. So I carpeted the room with them,
+and I laid out streets and squares, and had the pamphlets for walls and
+houses. Or I was a queen, with a great correspondence, and all the
+letters were brought to me by pages in green and gold, and when I read
+them (this was before I could really read, of course), they were all
+from my baby sister,<a class="pagenum" name="page_150" id="page_150" title="150"></a> and they told of all the lovely things she was
+seeing, and the wonderful countries she and Mamma were travelling in.
+Aunt Faith, I never see a waste-paper basket now, without feeling as if
+there must be a letter for me in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there really a baby sister, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, oh, yes! she died with Mamma, only a few days after her
+birth,&mdash;little Penelope! It seems such a great name for a tiny baby,
+doesn't it, Aunt Faith? But it is a family name, Papa told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, many of the Montforts have been named Penelope. You
+remember the poor Aunt Penelope I told you about, who made the unhappy
+marriage; and there were many others."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that reminds me!" said Margaret. "Aunt Faith, you promised to tell
+me some day about Aunt Phoebe. Don't you remember? We were speaking of
+these white rooms, and you said it was a fancy of Uncle John's to have
+them so, and you thought he remembered his Great-aunt Phoebe; and then
+you said you would tell me some time, and this is some time, isn't it,
+Auntie dear?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_151" id="page_151" title="151"></a></p>
+
+<p>"I cannot deny that, Margaret, certainly. And I don't know why this is
+not a very good time; the twilight is soft and dusky, and Aunt Phoebe's
+story ought not to be told in broad daylight."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent a moment, as if looking back into the past. "It is the
+sequel, rather than the story itself, that is singular," she said. "The
+first part is like only too many other stories, alas! Your Great-aunt
+Phoebe&mdash;your Great-great-aunt, I should say&mdash;was betrothed to a brave
+young officer, Lieutenant Hetherington. It was just at the breaking out
+of the War of 1812, and the engagement was made just as he was going
+into active service. She was a beautiful girl, with large dark eyes, and
+superb fair hair,&mdash;none of you three girls have this combination, but it
+is not uncommon among the Montforts; I myself had fair hair and dark
+eyes. Phoebe was highly romantic, and when her lover went to war, she
+gave him a sword-belt plaited of her own hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," cried Margaret, "like Sir Percival's sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly! Very likely it was from that<a class="pagenum" name="page_152" id="page_152" title="152"></a> story that she took the idea,
+for she was a great reader. However it might be, her mother was greatly
+distressed at her cutting off so much of her fine hair, and did her best
+to prevent it, but to no purpose, as you may imagine. Giles Hetherington
+joined the army, carrying the braided belt with him, and they say he
+never parted with it, night or day, but slept with it beside him on the
+pillow. Poor fellow! He was killed in a night attack by the Indians, set
+on by the British. He was in a hut with some other officers, and the
+sentry must have slept at his post, they supposed. They were surrounded,
+the house set on fire, and the officers all killed. One private escaped
+to tell the dreadful story, and he told of the gallant fight they made,
+and how Giles Hetherington fought for the life that was so dear to
+others. He defended the door while two of his comrades forced the window
+open, hoping to steal around and take the savages in the rear; but the
+window was watched, too, and these officers were shot down, and then an
+Indian sprang in at the window, and stabbed Hetherington in the back.
+Ah, me! It is a terrible story, dear child! He staggered back to<a class="pagenum" name="page_153" id="page_153" title="153"></a> the
+bed, the soldier said, and caught up the belt, that was lying there
+while he slept. He was past speech, but he gave it to this soldier, who
+was a lad from this place, and motioned him to the window; then he fell
+back dead, and the man crept out of the window,&mdash;the Indians having run
+around to the front,&mdash;and crawled off, lying flat in the grass, and so
+escaped with his life. He brought the belt, all dabbled with blood, back
+to Fernley, meaning to give it to Madam Montfort quietly, that she might
+break the news to her daughter, but poor Phoebe chanced to come through
+the garden just as he was standing on the steps with the belt in his
+hand, and she saw it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! oh, dear!" cried Margaret, clasping her hands. "Aunt Faith, it is
+too dreadful! How could she bear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, she could not bear it. She had not the strength. She did not
+lose her mind, like poor Aunt Penelope, but really, it might almost have
+been as well if she had, poor soul. When she woke from the long swoon
+into which she had fallen at sight of the belt, she heard all the story
+through without a word, and then she came here, and left the world."<a class="pagenum" name="page_154" id="page_154" title="154"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Came here?" repeated Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, to these rooms; but what different rooms! She sent for a painter,
+and had the walls painted black. She had everything with an atom of
+colour in it taken away; and in these black rooms she lived, and in them
+she died. She wept so much&mdash;partly that, and partly the want of
+light&mdash;that her eyes became abnormally sensitive, and she could not bear
+even to see anything white. As time went on&mdash;Margaret, you will hardly
+believe this, but it is literally true&mdash;she would not even have white
+china on her table. She declared it hurt her eyes. So her father, who
+could refuse her nothing, sent for a set of dark brown china, and she
+ate brown bread on it,&mdash;would not look at white bread,&mdash;and was served
+by a mulatto woman, an old nurse who had been in the family from her
+childhood."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Faith, can it be&mdash;you say it really is true! but&mdash;how could they
+let her? Why did they not have an oculist?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, oculists did not exist in those days. If she were living
+to-day, it would be pronounced a case of nervous exhaustion, and she<a class="pagenum" name="page_155" id="page_155" title="155"></a>
+would be taken for a sea voyage, or sent to a rest-cure, or treated in
+one of the hundred different ways that we know of nowadays. But then,
+nobody knew what to do for her, poor lady. To be 'crossed in love,' as
+it was called, was a thing that admitted of no cure, unless the patient
+were willing to be cured. People spoke of Phoebe Montfort under their
+breath, and called her 'a blight,' meaning a person whose life has been
+blighted. The world has gone on a good deal in the two generations since
+then, my dear Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said Margaret; "poor soul! And did she have to live
+very long, Aunt Faith? I hope not!"</p>
+
+<p>"A good many years, my dear. She must have been an elderly woman when
+she died; not old, as I count age, but perhaps seventy-five, or
+thereabouts. I lived far away at that time, but John Montfort has often
+told me of the time of her death. He was a little lad, and he regarded
+the Black Rooms and their tenant with the utmost terror. He used to run
+past the door, he says, for fear the Black Aunt should come out and
+seize him, and take him into her<a class="pagenum" name="page_156" id="page_156" title="156"></a> dreary dwelling. Poor Aunt Phoebe was
+the mildest creature in the world, and would not have hurt a fly, but to
+him she was something awful,&mdash;out of nature. He was taken in to see her
+once or twice a year, and he always had nightmare after it, being a
+nervous child. Well, one day he was running through the Green Parlour
+here, and looking back at the windows of the Black Rooms, as he never
+could help doing; and he saw Rosalie, the coloured woman, come to the
+window and throw it wide open, letting in the full light of day. Then
+she went to the next, and so on; and the child knew what had happened
+before she spoke. I remember her words:</p>
+
+<p>"'She's gone, honey! Her sperit's gone. It went out'n dis window,
+straight by whar you's standin', and into the cedar bush. De Lord hab
+mercy!'</p>
+
+<p>"And poor little John took to his heels, and ran, and never stopped
+running till he was in his own bed upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the story, Margaret; but I ought to add that the belt of hair
+was laid in the grave with her, at her special request."<a class="pagenum" name="page_157" id="page_157" title="157"></a></p>
+
+<p>"What a sad, sad story! Poor soul! Poor, forlorn, tortured soul! How
+glad she must have been to go! Aunt Faith&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear Margaret!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing,&mdash;only&mdash;it seems dreadful sometimes, to feel that terrible
+things may be coming, coming toward one, and that one never can look
+forward, never know when they may come! I sometimes think, if I could
+see a year ahead, or even a week,&mdash;but one never knows. I suppose it is
+best, or it would not be!"</p>
+
+<p>"Assuredly, dear child! When you think a little more, you will see the
+wisdom and the mercy of it. How could we go steadfastly along our path
+of every day, if some day we saw a pit at the farther end? Life would be
+impossible, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I&mdash;I suppose so!" said Margaret thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And all the time," Mrs. Cheriton went on, "all the time, during the
+clear, calm days and years, my child, we are, or we ought to be, laying
+by, as it were; storing up light and strength and happiness for the dark
+days when<a class="pagenum" name="page_158" id="page_158" title="158"></a> we may so deeply need them. Think a moment! Think of all the
+happy days and years with your father! They are blessed memories, are
+they not, Margaret? every day is like a jewel that you take out and look
+at, and then put back in its case; you never lose these precious things
+that are all your own!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never! oh, how well you know, Aunt Faith! how you must have felt it
+all!" The girl raised her head, and saw the face of the aged woman
+transfigured with light and beauty. She also was looking back through
+the years,&mdash;who could tell how long!</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose,"&mdash;it was still she who spoke,&mdash;"suppose now, Margaret,
+that these memories were other than they are! Suppose that instead of
+the blessed golden days, you had days of storm and anger and
+disagreement to look back on; that there had been unkindness on one
+side, unfaithfulness on the other; suppose it had been with you and your
+father as it has been with some parents and children that I have
+known,&mdash;how then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" murmured Margaret, her eyes filling with tears, that yet had no
+bitterness in them;<a class="pagenum" name="page_159" id="page_159" title="159"></a> "but it could not have been so, Aunt Faith. Papa
+was an angel, you know; an angel of goodness and love."</p>
+
+<p>"Now you see what I mean by storing up light against the dark days,"
+said Mrs. Cheriton. "If he had not been loving and good,&mdash;and if you,
+too, had not been a good and dear daughter,&mdash;think what your possessions
+would be to-day. As it is, you have what can never be taken from you;
+and so if we go on steadfastly, as I said, content not to see before us,
+but cherishing and making the best of what we have to-day, the best of
+what to-day holds will be ours forever, till death comes to end all the
+partings and all the sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>The last words were spoken rather to herself than to Margaret. The
+latter sat still, not daring to speak; for it seemed as if some
+beautiful vision were passing before the eyes of the old woman. She sat
+looking a little upward, with her lips slightly parted, the breath
+coming and going so softly that one could not perceive it, her hands
+clasped in her lap. Now the lips moved, and Margaret heard the low words
+of a prayer, rather breathed than whispered. Another<a class="pagenum" name="page_160" id="page_160" title="160"></a> moment, and the
+brown eyes grew bright and smiling once more, and the kindly gaze fell
+on the girl, who sat awestruck, half afraid to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Margaret!" said Mrs. Cheriton quickly. "My poor little girl, I
+have frightened you. Dear, when one is so old as I am the veil seems
+very thin, and I often look half through it and feel the air from the
+other side. But you&mdash;you must not stay here too long, you must not be
+saddened by an old woman's moods. You love to stay, and I love to have
+you, but it must not be too long. I will just tell you about the change
+in the rooms, and then&mdash;well, the Black Rooms remained shut up for many,
+many years after Aunt Phoebe's death. Indeed, I fancy they were never
+used until after your grandfather's death, when the property was
+divided, and your Uncle John took Fernley as his share. Then one of the
+first things he did was to throw open these rooms, send for a painter,
+and have them painted white from floor to ceiling, as you see. He had no
+use for them at that time, but he has told me that he did not like to be
+in the same house with<a class="pagenum" name="page_161" id="page_161" title="161"></a> anything black. Everything burnable was
+burned,&mdash;for your grandfather, as long as he lived, kept Aunt Phoebe's
+belongings just as she left them,&mdash;the brown crockery was smashed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was a pity!" cried Margaret. "Just for the curiosity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a piece, my dear!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "Elizabeth Wilson&mdash;good
+Elizabeth&mdash;saved a piece for me; and she kept one of the black silk
+gowns (she has been in the house ever since she was a child), to put in
+the family chest. So there, Margaret, you have the story of Aunt Phoebe
+from beginning to end. And now you must go out and play."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just a moment!" pleaded Margaret. "Aunt Faith,&mdash;Uncle John must be
+<i>very</i> nice."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, he is the best man in the world. There is not a doubt about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we see him at all, Aunt Faith?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see him. I cannot say exactly when, but you shall see him,
+Margaret; that I promise you on the word of a centenarian. Now will you
+go, or shall Janet&mdash;"<a class="pagenum" name="page_162" id="page_162" title="162"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I will go! I will go! Good-bye, dear Aunt Faith. I have had the
+most delightful hour," and Janet came and closed the white door softly
+after her.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_163" id="page_163" title="163"></a>
+<a name="HEROES_AND_HEROINES_3131" id="HEROES_AND_HEROINES_3131"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+<h3>HEROES AND HEROINES.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"Oh for a knight like Bayard,</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Without reproach or fear!"</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>"How to support life on such a day as this?" demanded Rita, coming out
+of her room, and confronting her cousins as they came upstairs. She had
+been asleep, and her dark eyes were still misty and vague. The others,
+on the contrary, had been running in the rain, and they were all
+a-tingle with life and fresh air, and a-twinkle with rain-drops. The
+moment was not a good one, and Rita's straight brows drew together
+ominously.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been&mdash;amusing yourselves, it appears," she said, in the old
+withering tone that they were learning to forget. "Of course, here
+nothing matters; one may as well be a savage as an <i>&eacute;l&eacute;gante</i> in the
+wilderness; but I should be sorry to meet you in Havana, my cousins!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_164" id="page_164" title="164"></a></p>
+
+<p>Peggy hung her head, and tried to keep her muddy feet out of sight.
+Margaret only laughed, and held up her petticoats higher.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have been with us, Rita!" she said. "We have had great
+fun. The garden is one great shower-bath, and the brook is roaring like
+a baby lion. I am really beginning to learn how to walk in wet feet, am
+I not, Peggy? I used to think I should die if my feet were wet. It is
+really delightful to feel the water go 'plop!' in and out of one's
+boots. Now, my dear," she added, "I really cannot let you be cross,
+because Peggy and I are in the most delightful good humour, and we came
+in on purpose, because we thought you would be awake, and would want to
+be amused. If you frown, Rita, I shall kiss you, all dripping wet, and
+you know you could not bear that."</p>
+
+<p>She advanced, holding up her rosy, shining face, down which the drops
+were still streaming. Rita uttered a shriek and vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how you can talk to her that way," said Peggy admiringly.
+"When she opens her eyes at me, and pulls her eyebrows together, I feel
+about two inches high and three<a class="pagenum" name="page_165" id="page_165" title="165"></a> years old. You are brave in your own
+way, Margaret, if you can't pull people out of bogs."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret laughed again. "My dear, I found it was the only way," she
+said. "If I let her ride over me&mdash;" Here she stopped suddenly, and with
+a change of tone bade Peggy hasten to change her wet clothes. "It is all
+very fine to get wet," she said, "and I am grateful for the lesson,
+Peggy; but I know that one <i>must</i> change when she comes in."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy made a grimace, and said that at home she was often wet through
+from morning till night, and nobody cared; but Margaret resolutely
+pushed her into her room and shut the door, before going on to her own.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes both girls, dry and freshly clad, knocked at Rita's
+door; and though her "Come in" still sounded rather sullen, it was yet a
+distinct invitation, and they entered. Rita had made this room over in
+her own way, much to Elizabeth's inconvenience. The chintz curtains were
+almost covered with little flags, emblems, feathery grasses, and the
+like, pinned here and there in picturesque confusion. A large Cuban flag
+draped the mantelpiece, and<a class="pagenum" name="page_166" id="page_166" title="166"></a> portraits of the Cuban leaders adorned the
+walls. Over the dressing-table was the great scarlet fan which had
+played such a conspicuous part in the drama of "<i>Cuba Libre</i>," and it
+was pinned to the wall with a dagger of splendid and alarming
+appearance. The mirror was completely framed in photographs, mostly of
+dark-eyed se&ntilde;oritas in somewhat exaggerated toilets. Inscriptions in
+every variety of sprawling hand testified to the undying love of
+Conchita, Dolores, Manuela, and a dozen others, for their all-beautiful
+Margarita, to part from whom was death.</p>
+
+<p>If this were literally true, the youthful population of Cuba must have
+been sensibly diminished by Rita's departure. There were black-browed
+youths, too, some gazing tenderly, some scowling fiercely, all wearing
+the Cuban ribbon with all possible ostentation. One of these youths was
+manifestly Carlos Montfort, Rita's brother, for they were like enough to
+have been twins; another had been pointed out to Margaret, in a whisper
+charged with dramatic meaning, as "Fernando," the cousin on her mother's
+side, the handsomest man in Havana, and the most fascinating. Margaret
+looked coolly enough at<a class="pagenum" name="page_167" id="page_167" title="167"></a> this devastator of hearts, and thought that her
+own cousin Carlos was far handsomer. Peggy thought so, too; indeed, her
+susceptible sixteen-year-old heart was deeply impressed by Cousin
+Carlos's appearance, and she would often steal into the room during
+Rita's absence, to peep and sigh at the delicate, high-bred face, with
+its flashing dark eyes, and the hair that grew low on the forehead, with
+just the same tendril curls that made Rita's hair so lovely. Oh! Peggy
+would think, if her own hair were only dark, or even brown,&mdash;anything
+but this disgusting, wishy-washy flaxen. She had longed for dark eyes
+and hair ever since she could remember. Poor Peggy! But she kept her
+little romance to herself, and indeed it was a very harmless one, and
+helped her a good deal about keeping her hair neat and her shoe-strings
+tied.</p>
+
+<p>When the girls went in now, they found Rita curled up on her sofa, with
+the robe and pillow of chinchilla fur that had come with her from Cuba.
+It was a bad sign, Margaret had learned, when the furs came out in warm
+weather. It meant a headache generally, and at any rate a chilly state
+of body, which was apt to be<a class="pagenum" name="page_168" id="page_168" title="168"></a> accompanied by a peevish state of mind.
+Still, she looked so pretty, peeping out of the soft gray nest! She was
+such a child, after all, in spite of her seventeen years,&mdash;decidedly,
+she must be amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Rita, half dolefully, half crossly, "I cannot command
+solitude, it appears. I am desolated; I desire to die, while this
+frightful rain pours down, but I cannot die alone; that is not suffered
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," replied Margaret cheerfully. "Don't die yet, please,
+dear, but when you feel that you must, we will be at hand to take your
+last wishes, won't we, Peggy?"</p>
+
+<p>But Peggy thought Margaret cruel, and could only look at Rita
+remorsefully, feeling that she had sinned, she knew not how.</p>
+
+<p>"And how are we to amuse ourselves?" added Margaret, seating herself on
+the couch at Rita's feet. "I think we must tell stories; it is a perfect
+day for stories. Oh, Peggy, don't you want to get my knitting, like the
+dear good child you are? I cannot listen well unless I have my
+knitting."</p>
+
+<p>Peggy brought the great pink and gray blanket<a class="pagenum" name="page_169" id="page_169" title="169"></a> which had been Margaret's
+friend and companion for several months, and with it her own diminutive
+piece of work, a doily that she was supposed to be embroidering. Rita
+lay watching them with bright eyes, her eyebrows still nearer together
+than was desirable. At last, "Well," she said again. There was
+impatience and irritation in the tone, but there was interest, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Margaret, "I was only thinking what would be pleasantest
+to do; there are so many things. How would it do for each of us to tell
+a story,&mdash;a heroic story, such as will stand the rain, and not be afraid
+of a wetting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of our own deeds?" inquired Rita.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, perhaps hardly that. If I waited to find a heroic deed of my own
+performance, you might get tired, my dear. Somehow heroics do not come
+every day, as they used in story times. But I can tell you one of my
+father. Will you hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita nodded languidly; Peggy looked up eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in the great Blankton fire," said Margaret.<a class="pagenum" name="page_170" id="page_170" title="170"></a> "I don't suppose
+you know about it, Rita, but Peggy may have heard. No? Well, the country
+is very big, after all. It seems as if all the world must have heard of
+that fire. I was hardly more than a baby at the time, but I remember
+seeing the red glare, and thinking that we were not going to have any
+night that time, as the sun was getting up again as soon as he had gone
+to bed. We were living in Blankton that winter, for papa had some work
+that made it necessary for him to be near the Blankton libraries;
+Historical Society work, you know, as so much of his work was." She
+paused for some appreciative word, but none came. Apparently neither of
+her cousins had heard of the Historical Society, which had played so
+large a part in her father's life and her own.</p>
+
+<p>"The whole sky was like blood!" she went on; "and when the smoke-clouds
+that hung low over the city blew aside, we could see the flames darting
+up, high, high, like pillars and spires. Oh! it was a beautiful,
+dreadful sight! I watched it, baby as I was, with delight. I never
+thought that my own father was in all that terrible glow and furnace,
+and that he<a class="pagenum" name="page_171" id="page_171" title="171"></a> came near losing his precious life to save another's."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" cried Peggy, roused at the mention of saving life. "Did he start
+another fire to meet it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no!" cried Margaret, in her turn failing to appreciate the
+Western point of view. "He tried to help put it out at first in the
+building where he was, and when he saw that was impossible, he went to
+work getting out his books and papers. They were very, very valuable; no
+money could have bought some of them, he said, for they were original
+documents, and in some cases there were no duplicates. They were Papa's
+treasures,&mdash;more to him than twenty fortunes. So he began taking them
+out, slowly and carefully, thinking he had plenty of time. But after he
+had taken out the first load, he heard cries and groans in a room near
+his own office, and going in, he found an old man, a wretched old miser
+that lived there all alone, in dirt and misery, though every one knew he
+was immensely rich. He seemed to have gone out of his mind with fright,
+and there he sat, his hands full of notes and bonds<a class="pagenum" name="page_172" id="page_172" title="172"></a> and things,
+screaming and crying, and saying that he could not go out, for he would
+be robbed, and he must stay there and burn to death. Papa tried to
+reason with him, but he would not listen, only screamed louder, and
+called Papa a robber when he tried to take the papers from him. Then
+Papa called to the men who were passing by to help him, but they were
+all so busy saving their own things, they could not stop, I suppose, or
+at any rate, they did not; and all the time the fire was coming nearer,
+and the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. Somebody who knew Papa
+called to him that the fire had reached his entry, and that in five
+minutes his office would be in flames. He started to run, thinking he
+could get out a few precious books, and let the others go while he got
+the old man out; but this time the poor old soul clung to him, and
+begged not to be left to burn, and looking out into the hall, Papa saw
+the smoke-cloud all shot with flame, and bright tongues licking along
+the walls toward him. So he took the old man by the arm and tried to
+lead him out, but he screamed that his box must go too, his precious
+box, or he should die of<a class="pagenum" name="page_173" id="page_173" title="173"></a> grief. That was his strong-box, and it was too
+heavy for him to lift, so he sat down beside it, hugging it, and saying
+that he would never leave it. Poor Papa was at his wit's end, for at any
+moment they might be surrounded and cut off from the stairs. So he
+heaved up the box and threw it out of the window, and then he took the
+old miser on his back and ran for his life. Oh, girls, there was only
+just time! He had to run through the fire, and his hair and beard were
+singed, and his clothes; but he got through, half blinded and choked,
+and almost strangled, too, for the old miser was clutching his throat
+all the time, and screaming out that he had murdered him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did he not drop him?" inquired Rita. "My faith, why should he be
+saved, the old vegetable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rita, you don't know what you are saying. It was a human life, and
+of course he <i>had</i> to save it; but it did seem cruel that the precious
+books and papers had to be sacrificed for just wretched money. That was
+the heroic part of it,&mdash;Papa's leaving the things that meant more to him
+than anything in the world, except<a class="pagenum" name="page_174" id="page_174" title="174"></a> me and his friends, and saving the
+old miser's money."</p>
+
+<p>"If he could have saved him and the books, and let the money go to
+Jericho!" said Peggy; "but I suppose he couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"That was just it! The man was really out of his mind, you see, and if
+Papa had left him he might have run into the fire, or jumped out of the
+window, or done any other crazy thing. Well, that is my story, girls.
+Who shall come next,&mdash;you, Rita?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita had been only partly roused by the story of the fire. An uncle
+saving a dirty old man and his money did not specially appeal to her;
+the hero should have been young and ardent, and should have saved a lady
+from the burning house. Peggy wanted to be responsive, but it seemed a
+great fuss to make over musty old books and papers; probably they were
+like those that Margaret made such a time about in the library here;
+Peggy had looked at some of them, and they were as dry as dry could be.
+If he had saved a dog, now, or a child,&mdash;and at the thought her eyes
+brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Do heroines count," she asked; "or must it be a man?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_175" id="page_175" title="175"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Of course they count!" cried Margaret, bending over her work to hide
+the tears that came to her eyes. She felt the glow checked in her
+heart,&mdash;knew that her story, her beloved story, had not struck the note
+that always thrilled her when she saw in thought her father, slender,
+gray-haired, carrying out the strange man, and leaving behind him,
+without a word, the fruits of years of toil.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course heroines count, my dear! Have you one for us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ma did something nice once," said Peggy shyly; "she saved my life when
+I was a baby."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us!" cried both girls, and Rita's eyes brightened, for this seemed
+to promise better.</p>
+
+<p>"It was when Pa first took up the claim," said Peggy. "The country was
+pretty wild then,&mdash;Indians about, and a good many big beasts: panthers,
+and mountain lions, and so on. I was the only girl, and I was two years
+old. Pa used to be out on the claim all day, and the boys with him, all
+except Hugh, and he was in bed at that time; and Ma used to work in the
+garden, and keep me by her so that I wouldn't get into mischief.<a class="pagenum" name="page_176" id="page_176" title="176"></a></p>
+
+<p>"One day she was picking currants, and I had been sitting by her,
+playing with some hollyhock flowers she had given me. She did not notice
+when I crawled away, but suddenly she heard me give a queer sort of
+scream. She turned round, and there was a big panther dragging me off
+down the garden path by my dress. Ma felt as if she was dead for a
+minute; but then she ran back to the seed-house&mdash;it was only a few steps
+off&mdash;and got a hoe that she knew was there, and tore off after the
+panther. It wasn't going very fast, for I was a pretty heavy baby, and
+it didn't know at first that any one was after it. When it heard Ma
+coming it started off quicker, and had almost got to the woods when she
+caught up. Ma raised that hoe and brought it down on the beast's head as
+hard as she knew how. It dropped me, and turned on her, grinning and
+snarling, and curling its claws all ready for a spring. She never
+stopped to draw breath; she raised the hoe again, and that time, she
+says, she prayed to the swing of it; and she brought it down, and heard
+the creature's skull go crash under it, and felt the hoe sink in. The
+panther gave a scream and<a class="pagenum" name="page_177" id="page_177" title="177"></a> rolled over, and then Ma rolled over too; and
+when Pa came home to dinner, a few minutes later, they were both lying
+there still, and I was trying to pick up my hollyhock flowers. We have
+never had hollyhocks since then; Ma can't bear 'em."</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt about the effect of Peggy's story. Before it was
+finished Rita was sitting bolt upright, her chinchilla robe thrown back,
+her hands clasped over her knee, her eyes alight with interest; and
+Margaret cried, "Oh, Peggy, Peggy, what a splendid story!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's true!" said Peggy.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is; that's the splendid part. Oh, I am so proud to have an
+aunt so brave and strong. Aunt&mdash;why, Peggy, you have never told me your
+mother's name!"</p>
+
+<p>"You never asked," said Peggy. "Her name is Susan."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret blushed, and mentally applied the scourge to herself. It was
+true; she never had asked. Peggy had said that her mother had no
+education, and had got along very well without it; this was all that
+Margaret wanted to know. A shallow, ignorant woman, who had let her<a class="pagenum" name="page_178" id="page_178" title="178"></a>
+child grow up in such ignorance as Peggy's; and now she learned, all in
+a moment, of a strong, brave woman, helping her husband to clear the
+waste where their home was to be, making that home, bringing up her
+great family in love and rude plenty, and killing wild beasts with her
+own hard, honest hand. Margaret was learning a good deal this summer,
+and this was one of the most salutary lessons. She bowed her head and
+accepted it, but she only said aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Susan! I hope I shall know her some day. I shall put her in my
+heroine book, Peggy, from this minute." And the tone was so warm and
+hearty that Peggy's eyes filled with tears, and she felt dimly that she,
+too, had been neglectful of "Ma" of late, and resolved to write a good
+long letter that very afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"And now it is your turn, Rita!" said Margaret. "I give you till I knit
+to the end of this row to find a hero or heroine in your family. You
+must have plenty of them."</p>
+
+<p>Rita laughed, and curled herself into another graceful, sinuous
+attitude. Her eyes shone. "My brother Carlos is in the mountains," she<a class="pagenum" name="page_179" id="page_179" title="179"></a>
+said; "my cousin Fernando with him. Pouf! if I were with them!"</p>
+
+<p>She was silent a moment, and then went on, speaking slowly, and pausing
+every few minutes to blow little holes in her chinchilla robe, a
+favourite amusement of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"The San Reals have plenty of heroes, heroines too; my mother was a San
+Real, you remember. What will you have, Marguerite? Far back, an
+ancestor of mine was the most beautiful woman in Spain. Her lover was
+seized by the Inquisition; she went to the Tribunal, accused herself,
+and died in his place. Will you have her for a heroine? My
+great-grandfather&mdash;he was a Grandee of Spain. The nephew of the king
+insulted him to the death, and thought his rank made him safe. He was
+found dead the next morning, and my great-grandfather lay dead beside
+him, with the dagger in his heart that had first slain the prince. Is he
+a hero such as you love, Marguerite?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not at all!" cried Margaret, "Rita, what dreadful tales! Those were
+the dark days, when people did not know better; but surely you<a class="pagenum" name="page_180" id="page_180" title="180"></a> must
+have some ancestors who were not murd&mdash;who did not die violent deaths."</p>
+
+<p>"They are San Reals!" said Rita. "They had royal blood of Spain in their
+veins. Cold, thin, Northern blood cannot warm to true heroism." She
+sulked for some time after this, and refused to say anything more; but
+desire of imparting was strong in her, and Margaret's smile could not be
+resisted indefinitely.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" she said. "You meant no harm, Marguerite; you cannot understand
+me or my people, but I should have known it, and your birth is not your
+fault. Listen, then, and see if this will please you."</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to meditate for some time, and when she spoke again it was
+still more slowly, as if she were choosing her words.</p>
+
+<p>"Once on a time,&mdash;no matter when,&mdash;there was a war. A cruel, unjust,
+devilish war, when the people of&mdash;when my people were ground to the
+earth, tortured, annihilated. All that was right and true and good was
+on one side; on the other, all that was base and brutal and horrible.
+There was no good, none! they are&mdash;they were devils, allowed to come to
+earth,&mdash;who can tell why?<a class="pagenum" name="page_181" id="page_181" title="181"></a></p>
+
+<p>"The&mdash;the army of my people had suffered; they were in need of many
+things, of food, of shoes, but most of all of arms. The whole nation
+cried for bloodshed, and there were not arms for the half of them. How
+to get weapons? Near by there was another country, but a short way
+across the water&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Africa?" asked Peggy innocently. But Rita flashed at her with eyes and
+teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will be silent, Calibana! Do I tell this story, or do you? have
+I mentioned a name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon!" muttered poor Peggy. "I didn't mean to interrupt, Rita;
+I only thought Africa was the nearest to Spain across the water."</p>
+
+<p>Rita glowered at her, and continued. "This neighbour-country was rich,
+great, powerful; but her people were greedy, slothful, asleep. They had
+arms, they had food, money, everything. Did they help my people in their
+need? I tell you, no!"</p>
+
+<p>She almost shrieked the last words, and Margaret looked up in some
+alarm, but concluding that Rita was merely working herself<a class="pagenum" name="page_182" id="page_182" title="182"></a> up to a
+dramatic crisis, she went on with her knitting.</p>
+
+<p>"To this rich, slothful country," Rita went on, dwelling on every
+adjective with infinite relish, "came a girl, a daughter of the country
+that was bleeding, dying. She was young; she had fire in her veins
+instead of blood; she was a San Real. She stayed in a house&mdash;a
+place&mdash;near the seashore, a house empty for the great part; full of
+rooms, empty of persons. The thought came to her,&mdash;Here I could conceal
+arms, could preserve them for my country, could deliver them to vessels
+coming by sea. It is a night expedition, it is a little daring, a little
+valour, the risk of my life,&mdash;what is that? I could arm my country, my
+brothers, against the tyrants. I could&mdash;" Rita paused, and both girls
+looked at her in amazement. She had risen from the couch, and now stood
+in the middle of the room; her slender form quivered with emotion; her
+great eyes shone with dark fire; her voice vibrated on their ears with
+new and powerful cadences.</p>
+
+<p>"This girl&mdash;was alone. She needed help. With her in the house were
+others, her friends,<a class="pagenum" name="page_183" id="page_183" title="183"></a> but knowing little of her heart. Their blood
+flowed slowly, coldly; they were good, they were kind, but&mdash;would they
+help her? Would they brave danger for her sake, for the sake of the
+country that was dearer to her than life? Alone she was but one, with
+their aid&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Listen! there came one day a letter to this house by the sea; it was
+for&mdash;for the person of whom I speak. Her brother was near, in a city not
+far off. He had come to collect arms, he had bought them, he must find a
+place to conceal them. Her dream was about to come true. She turned to
+her friends, the two whom she loved! She opened her arms, she opened her
+soul; she cried to them&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" said Margaret. She, too, had risen to her feet, and her face was
+very pale. Peggy looked from one to the other in alarm. Were they going
+to quarrel? Margaret's eyes were as bright as Rita's, but their light
+was calm and penetrating, not flashing and glowing with passion.</p>
+
+<p>"Rita," she said, "I hope&mdash;I trust I am entirely wrong in what I cannot
+help thinking. I trust this is a story, and nothing else. It cannot<a class="pagenum" name="page_184" id="page_184" title="184"></a> be
+anything else!" she continued, her voice gaining firmness as she went
+on. "We are here in our uncle's house. He is away, he has left us in
+charge, having confidence in his brothers' daughters. If&mdash;if
+anything&mdash;if anybody should plan such a thing as you suggest, it would
+not only be ungrateful, it would be base. I could not harbour such a
+thought for an instant. Oh, I hope I wrong you! I hope it was only a
+dramatic fancy. Tell me that it was, my dear, and I will beg your pardon
+most humbly."</p>
+
+<p>She paused for an answer, but Rita made none for the moment.</p>
+
+<p>She stood silent, the very soul of passion, her eyes dilating, her lips
+apart, her breast heaving with the furious words that her will would not
+suffer to escape. Margaret almost thought she would spring upon her,
+like the wild creature she seemed. But presently a change came over the
+Cuban girl. A veil gathered over the glowing eyes; her hands unclenched
+themselves, opened softly; her whole frame seemed to relax its tension,
+and in another moment she dropped on her couch with a low laugh.<a class="pagenum" name="page_185" id="page_185" title="185"></a></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ch&egrave;re Marguerite</i>," she said, "you, too, were born for the stage. Your
+climax, it was magnificent, <i>tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>; pity that you spoiled it with
+an anti-climax." And she shrugged her shoulders. "My poor little story!
+You would not even let me finish it. No matter; perhaps it has no end;
+perhaps I was but trying to see if I could put life into you, statues
+that you are. Ah, it was a pretty story, if I could have been permitted
+to finish it!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret turned scarlet. "My dear, if I have been rude," she said, "I am
+very sorry, Rita; I thought&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You thought!" said Rita, her full voice dropping the words scornfully,
+in a way that was hard to bear. "Your thoughts are very valuable, <i>tr&egrave;s
+ch&egrave;re</i>; I must not claim too many of them; they would be wasted on a
+poor patriot like me. And thou, Peggy, how didst thou like my story,
+eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita turned so suddenly on Peggy that the poor child had not time to
+shut her mouth, which had been open in sheer amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut it!" said Rita sharply. "Is it a<a class="pagenum" name="page_186" id="page_186" title="186"></a> whale, or the Gulf of Mexico? I
+asked how you like my story, little stupid. Have you had sense to attend
+to it?"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy's eyes filled with tears. A month ago she would have answered
+angrily, but now Rita was her goddess, and she could only weep at a
+harsh word from her.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think it is fine for a story, Rita," she answered slowly. "I loved
+to hear it. But&mdash;" Her blue eyes wandered helplessly for a moment, then
+met Margaret's steady gaze, and settled. "But if such a thing were true,
+Margaret would be right, wouldn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"And if you removed yourselves now?" queried Rita, turning her back to
+them with a sudden fling of the fur robe over her shoulder. "One must
+sleep in this place, or be talked to death, it appears. I choose sleep.
+My ears ring at present as with the sound of the sea,&mdash;a sea of cold
+babble! <i>Adios</i>, Se&ntilde;orita Calibana, Do&ntilde;a Fish-blood! I pray for relief!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret took Peggy's hand without a word, and they went out; but Peggy
+cried till dinner-time, and would not be comforted.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_187" id="page_187" title="187"></a>
+<a name="IN_THE_SADDLE_3612" id="IN_THE_SADDLE_3612"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+<h3>IN THE SADDLE.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"To witch the world with noble horsemanship."</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Rita's "story" was not the first thing to rouse suspicion in Margaret's
+mind. It was rather the concluding word of a sentence that had been
+forming in her mind during the last ten days.</p>
+
+<p>Something was on foot; some mystery hung about; she had felt thus much,
+and had felt, too, that it was connected with Rita; but all had been
+vague, uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>Rita had been receiving many letters with the New York postmark; but
+what of that? It was not Margaret's business to take notice of her
+cousin's letters. She had met Rita once or twice at the foot of the
+garret stairs, evidently returning from a visit to that place of shadowy
+delight. What of that? Rita had said each time that she had been looking
+for such and<a class="pagenum" name="page_188" id="page_188" title="188"></a> such a costume; that she was planning a charade, a new
+tableau, that would be sure to ravish her cousins; and in the evening
+she would produce the charade or the tableau, and sure enough, it would
+be enchanting, and they were delighted, and most grateful to her for the
+pains she took to amuse them. And yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;had she been at these
+pains until lately? Had not Margaret herself been the one who must think
+of the evening's amusement, plan the game, the reading, or singing,
+which should keep the three various natures in harmonious accord? So it
+had surely been, until these last ten days; and now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But how hateful to suspect, when it might be that Rita was merely
+feeling that perhaps she had not done her share, and had realised that
+with her great talent and her lovely voice and presence, she was the one
+to plan and execute their little entertainments? And what should
+Margaret suspect? It was not her nature to be anything but trustful of
+those around her; and yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But now her suspicions had taken definite shape, and Rita herself had
+confirmed them.<a class="pagenum" name="page_189" id="page_189" title="189"></a> There could no longer be any doubt that she was
+planning to take advantage of their uncle's continued absence to aid her
+brother,&mdash;who was in New York, as Margaret knew, in spite of Rita's
+recent declaration that he was in the mountains,&mdash;and to conceal arms in
+Fernley House, and have them shipped from there. It seemed impossible;
+it seemed a thing out of a play or a novel, but she could not doubt the
+fact. After all, Rita was a person for a play or a novel. This thing,
+which to Margaret seemed unspeakable, was to Rita but a natural impulse
+of patriotism, a piece of heroism.</p>
+
+<p>Of course she would not be able to do it; no person in her senses would
+attempt such a thing, on Long Island, only a few miles from New York;
+but the hot-blooded young Cubans would not realise that, and they might
+make some attempt which, though futile, would bring disagreeable
+consequences to Mr. Montfort and to all concerned. What was Margaret to
+do? The absurdity of the whole thing presented itself to her keenly, and
+she would have been glad enough to turn it all into a jest, and take it
+as the "story" with which Rita had tried to rouse<a class="pagenum" name="page_190" id="page_190" title="190"></a> her cool-blooded
+cousins; but that could not be. Rita had meant every word she said, and
+more; that was evident. What was Margaret to do? Her first thought was
+of Mrs. Cheriton; her second of John Strong, the gardener. Aunt Faith
+ought not, she was sure, to be disturbed or made anxious; her hold on
+life was too slender; her days must flow evenly and peacefully, as Uncle
+John had arranged them for her; it would never do to tell her of this
+threatened, fantastic danger. But John Strong! he was Mr. Montfort's
+confidential servant, almost his friend. Nay, Aunt Faith had spoken of
+him as "a good friend," simply and earnestly. He knew Uncle John's
+address, no doubt; he would give it to her, or write himself, as seemed
+best. It was dreadful to betray her cousin, but these were not the days
+of melodrama, and it was quite clear that Fernley House could not be
+made a deposit of arms for the Cuban insurgents during its master's
+absence. So with a clear conscience, though a heavy heart, Margaret
+sought the garden.</p>
+
+<p>John Strong was there, as he always was in the morning, fondling his
+roses, clipping, pruning,<a class="pagenum" name="page_191" id="page_191" title="191"></a> tying up, and setting out. In the afternoons
+he was never visible. Margaret had heard his voice occasionally in Mrs.
+Cheriton's rooms, but had never seen him there; he had evidently other
+work, or other haunts of his own, which kept him out of the way. She
+could not help knowing that he used her uncle's private sitting-room,
+but she took it for granted that it was with Mr. Montfort's leave and
+for his business. Rita might mistrust this man; but no one of Northern
+blood could look on the strong, quiet face without feeling that it was
+that of one of nature's noblemen, at least.</p>
+
+<p>"John," said Margaret, after she had admired the roses and listened to a
+brief but eloquent dissertation upon Catherine Mermet and Mar&eacute;chal Niel,
+"how near are we to the sea?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the sea, Miss Margaret? Call it a quarter of a mile. The rise of the
+land hides it from Fernley, but you will notice that we are near, by the
+sound of it; and you have been down to the shore a number of times, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; oh, yes! I know it is very near. I was only thinking&mdash;John, would
+it be easy for&mdash;persons&mdash;to come here from the shore, without<a class="pagenum" name="page_192" id="page_192" title="192"></a> being
+seen? I mean, could a vessel lie off here and not attract attention?"</p>
+
+<p>John Strong looked at her keenly. "That depends, Miss," he said. "By
+day, no; by night, yes. It is a quiet part of the shore, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know when Mr. Montfort is coming home?" was Margaret's next
+question; and as she put it she looked straight into the gardener's
+brown eyes, and they looked straight into hers. She fancied that John
+Strong changed colour a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not heard from him lately," he said quietly. "I think he will be
+here very soon now. Could I&mdash;may I ask if anything is distressing you,
+my&mdash;Miss Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret hesitated. The temptation was strong upon her to tell the whole
+tale to this man, whom she felt she could trust entirely; but the
+thought of Rita held her back. She would say what was necessary, and no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think&mdash;" she began timidly, "it might be well for you to be
+watchful at night, John. The Cubans&mdash;I have heard rumours&mdash;there might
+be vessels,&mdash;do you think, possibly&mdash;"<a class="pagenum" name="page_193" id="page_193" title="193"></a></p>
+
+<p>She broke off. The whole thing seemed like a nursery nightmare,
+impossible to put into plain English without exposing its absurdity. But
+John Strong glanced at her again, and his eyes were grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Rita is deeply interested in the Cuban war, I believe," he said,
+with meaning.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret started. "How did you know?" she asked. "Surely she has not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>John Strong laughed. "Hardly," he said. "Miss Rita does not converse
+with menials. It was Peggy&mdash;Miss Peggy, I should say&mdash;who told me about
+it. She was quite inclined to take fire herself, but I think I cooled
+her down a bit. These are dangerous matters for young ladies to meddle
+with. I think she told me that young Mr. Carlos Montfort was now in New
+York?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I believe so," said Margaret. She was angry with Peggy for talking
+so freely, yet it was a great help to her now, for John Strong evidently
+understood more of the matter than she would have liked to tell him.</p>
+
+<p>"You may trust me, Miss Margaret, I think," he said presently, after a
+few moments of silent snipping. "It is not necessary for me to know<a class="pagenum" name="page_194" id="page_194" title="194"></a>
+anything in particular, even if there is anything to know. I am an old
+soldier, and used to keeping watch, and sleeping with one eye open. You
+may trust me. You have said nothing of this to Mrs. Cheriton?" He looked
+up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I thought she ought not to be distressed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That was right; that was very right. You have shown&mdash;that is, you may
+depend on me, young lady. May I cut this bud for you? It is a perfect
+one, if I may say so. Perhaps you will look closer at it, Miss; (Miss
+Rita is observing you from the balcony, and you would not wish)&mdash;there,
+Miss. I shall bring some cut flowers into the dining-room later, for
+arrangement, as you ask. Good morning, Miss."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret returned to the house, half relieved, half bewildered. John
+Strong was certainly a remarkable person. She did not understand his
+position here, which seemed far removed from that of a domestic, but
+after all, it was none of her business. And even if he did speak of
+Peggy by her first name, was it Margaret's place to reprove him? He was
+almost old enough to be Peggy's grandfather.<a class="pagenum" name="page_195" id="page_195" title="195"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rita had apparently forgotten the storm of the day before. She was in
+high good humour, and greeted Margaret with effusion.</p>
+
+<p>"Just in time, Marguerite. Where have you been? We have called till we
+are hoarse. Look at us; we go to ride. We are to have an exhibition of
+skill, on the back of the white beast. Behold our costumes, found in the
+garret."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret looked, and laughed and admired. Rita was dressed in a long
+black velvet riding-habit, with gold buttons, a regal garment in its
+time, but now somewhat rubbed and worn; a tall hat of antique form
+perched upon her heavy braids, and she looked very businesslike. Peggy
+had found no such splendour, but had put on a scarlet military coat over
+her own bicycle skirt. "Finery is good," she said, "but not on
+horseback." A three-cornered hat, with the mouldering remains of a
+feather, completed her costume, and she announced herself as the
+gentleman of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"Rita was saying what a pity it was there were no boys here, and I told
+her I ought to have been a boy, and I would do my best now," said Peggy
+good-naturedly. Rita made a little<a class="pagenum" name="page_196" id="page_196" title="196"></a> grimace, as if this were not the
+kind of boy she desired, but she nodded kindly at Peggy, and said she
+was "fine."</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Marguerite? How will you appear? Will you find a cap and
+spectacles, and come as our grandmother? That would approve itself,
+<i>n'est-ce-pas</i>?" It was laughingly said, but the sting was there,
+nevertheless, and was meant to be felt.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I should delay you," replied Margaret. "Let me come as I am, and be
+ringmaster, or audience, or whatever you like. I never rode in my life,
+you know." Peggy opened wide her eyes, Rita curled her lip, but Margaret
+only laughed. "Frightful, isn't it? but how would you have me ride in my
+father's study? And the horses that went by our windows had mostly drays
+behind them, so they were not very tempting. Is William going to saddle
+White Eagle for you, girls?"</p>
+
+<p>"William has gone to the mill, or to bed, or somewhere," said Peggy. "I
+am going to saddle him myself. John Strong said I might."</p>
+
+<p>They went out to the great, pleasant barn, and while Peggy saddled the
+good horse, Rita and<a class="pagenum" name="page_197" id="page_197" title="197"></a> Margaret mounted the old swing, and went flying
+backward and forward between the great banks of fragrant hay.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it good to be a swallow?" said Margaret. "I wonder if we shall
+really fly some day; it really seems as if we might."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather be an eagle," said Rita. "To flutter a little, here and
+there, and sleep in a barn,&mdash;that would not be a great life. An eagle,
+soaring over the field of battle,&mdash;aha! he is my bird! But what is this
+outcry? Has he bitten thee, Peggy?"</p>
+
+<p>For Peggy was shouting from below; yet when they listened, the shouts
+were of wonder and delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, girls, do just look here! There is a new horse,&mdash;a colt! Oh, what a
+beauty!"</p>
+
+<p>The girls came down hastily, and ran to the door of the second box
+stall, which had been empty since they came. There stood a noble young
+horse, jet black, with a single white mark on his forehead. His coat
+shone like satin, his eyes beamed with friendly inquiry. Already Peggy
+had her head against his shoulder, and was murmuring admiration in his
+ear.<a class="pagenum" name="page_198" id="page_198" title="198"></a></p>
+
+<p>"You lovely, you dear, beautiful thing, where did you come from? Oh,
+Margaret, isn't he a darling? Come and see him!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret came in rather timidly; she was not used to animals, and the
+horse seemed very large, tramping about freely in his ample stall. But
+he received her so kindly, and put his nose in her pocket with such
+confiding grace, that her fears were soon conquered. Rita patted him
+graciously, but kept her distance. "Very fine, my dear, but the straw
+smells, and gets on one's clothes so. Saddle me this one, Peggy, and you
+can have the white one yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Are we&mdash;have we leave to take this horse?" asked Margaret, colouring.
+It was too horrid that she must always play the dragon,&mdash;as if she liked
+it,&mdash;and of course the others thought she did.</p>
+
+<p>"Have we been forbidden to take the horse, dear?" asked Rita with
+dangerous sweetness. "No? But perhaps you were told to keep watch on us
+by your friend, the servant, who wears his master's clothes? Again, no?
+Then kindly permit me, at least, to do as I think best."<a class="pagenum" name="page_199" id="page_199" title="199"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rita!" cried Peggy, "perhaps we ought not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Chut!</i>" cried Rita, flashing upon her in the way that always
+frightened Peggy out of her wits. "Do you saddle me the horse, or do I
+do it myself?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret thought it was highly improbable that Rita could do it herself,
+but she said no more. A difficulty arose, however. There was found to be
+but one saddle. "Never mind!" said Peggy. "I can ride bareback just as
+well as saddleback; but I am afraid, Rita&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid!" cried Rita. "You too, Peggy? My faith, what a set!"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid the saddle will not fit the black!" said Peggy, looking for once
+defiantly at her terrible cousin. "White Eagle is so big, you see; the
+saddle was made for him, and it slips right off this fellow's back."</p>
+
+<p>Rita fretted and stamped her pretty feet, and said various explosive
+things under her breath, and not so far under but that they could be
+heard pretty well, but all this did not avail to make the saddle smaller
+or the new horse bigger; so at last she was obliged to mount White<a class="pagenum" name="page_200" id="page_200" title="200"></a>
+Eagle, and to have the mortification of seeing Peggy vault lightly on
+the back of the black beauty. He had never been ridden before, perhaps;
+certainly he was not used to it, for he reared upright, and a less
+practised horsewoman than Peggy would have been thrown in an instant;
+but she sat like a rock, and stroked the horse between his ears, and
+patted his neck, and somehow wheedled him down on his four legs again.
+Margaret watched with breathless interest. This was all new to her. Rita
+looked graceful and beautiful, and rode with ease and skill, but Peggy
+was mistress of the situation. The black horse flew here and there,
+rearing, squealing with excitement, occasionally indulging in something
+suspiciously like a "buck;" but Peggy, unruffled, still coaxed and
+caressed him, and showed him so plainly that she was there to stay as
+long as she felt inclined, that after a while he gave up the struggle,
+and settling down into a long, smooth gallop, bore her away like the
+wind over the meadow and up the slope that lay beyond. Now they came to
+a low stone wall, and the watchers thought they would turn back; but
+Peggy lifted the black at it, and he went over like a bird. Next moment
+they were out of sight over the brow of the hill.<a class="pagenum" name="page_201" id="page_201" title="201"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:446px'>
+<a name="illus-007" id="illus-007"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-201.jpg" alt="HORSEBACK." title="" width="446" /><br />
+<span class="caption">HORSEBACK.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_203" id="page_203" title="203"></a>"Oh," cried Margaret, turning to Rita, her face aglow with pleasure,
+"wasn't that beautiful? Why, I had no idea the child could ride like
+that, had you? I never knew what riding was before."</p>
+
+<p>Rita tried to look contemptuous, but the look was not a success. "A
+gentlewoman does not require to ride like a stable-boy!" was all she
+said. She was evidently out of humour, so Margaret was silent, only
+watching the hill, to see when the pair would come galloping back over
+the brow.</p>
+
+<p>Here they were! Peggy was waving her hand&mdash;her hat had flown off at the
+first caracole, and Rita had ridden over it several times&mdash;and shouting
+in jubilation. Her hair flew loose over her shoulders, her short skirt
+was blown about in every direction, but her eyes were so bright, her
+face so rosy and joyous, that she was a pleasant sight to see, as,
+leaping the fence, she came sweeping along over the meadow.<a class="pagenum" name="page_204" id="page_204" title="204"></a></p>
+
+<p>"Hail!" cried Margaret, when she came within hearing. "Hail, daughter of
+Chiron! gloriously ridden, O youthful Centauress!"</p>
+
+<p>Peggy did not know who Chiron was, but she caught the approving sound of
+the words, and waved her hand. "Come on, Rita!" she cried. "Take the
+Eagle over the fence! It's great fun. I'm going to try standing up in a
+minute, when he is a little more used to me."</p>
+
+<p>They set off at an easy gallop, and White Eagle took the fence well
+enough, though it was his first, and he was no colt, like the black.
+Then they circled round and round the meadow, sometimes neck and neck,
+sometimes one far in advance. Generally it was Peggy, for the black was
+far the swifter animal of the two; but now and then she pulled him in,
+like the good-natured girl she was, and let her cousin gallop ahead.
+Margaret watched them with delight, not a pang of envy disturbing her
+enjoyment. What a perfect thing it was! how enchanting to be one with
+your horse, and feel his strong being added to your own! How<a class="pagenum" name="page_205" id="page_205" title="205"></a>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But what was this? All in a minute, something happened. The black put
+his foot in a hole,&mdash;a woodchuck's burrow,&mdash;stumbled, pitched forward,
+and threw Peggy heavily to the ground. He recovered himself in a moment,
+and stood trembling; but Peggy lay still. Margaret was at her side in an
+instant. The child had struck her head on a stone, and was insensible,
+and bleeding profusely from a cut on the left temple. Rita dismounted
+and came near.</p>
+
+<p>"Some water, please!" said Margaret. "Bring water quickly, Rita, while I
+stop the bleeding. And give me your handkerchief, will you, before you
+go?" She held out one hand, which was already covered with blood;
+glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and trembling
+violently.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,&mdash;ill? hold her, then, and I
+will run."</p>
+
+<p>"No,&mdash;no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is&mdash;the blood! I cannot bear the
+sight. I will go&mdash;I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It is
+too terrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently.<a class="pagenum" name="page_206" id="page_206" title="206"></a></p>
+
+<p>"She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had some
+water, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought,
+yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steady
+hand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same moment
+Margaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blue
+eyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,&mdash;was Peggy giggling, even
+before she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously,
+afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and it
+was Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and&mdash;yes! undoubtedly
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but with
+perfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I have
+come; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But&mdash;I say,
+Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I was
+dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those<a class="pagenum" name="page_207" id="page_207" title="207"></a> people who faint at the sight
+of blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind you
+a bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes.
+But&mdash;I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose&mdash;the rest
+of them&mdash;feel the same way about blood? because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Peggy, I am surprised at you!" said Margaret. "Hush this moment, or I
+will let your head drop!"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_208" id="page_208" title="208"></a>
+<a name="IN_THE_NIGHT_3998" id="IN_THE_NIGHT_3998"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+<h3>IN THE NIGHT.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+<p>Quand on conspire, sans frayeur<br />
+Il faut se faire conspirateur;<br />
+Pour tout le monde il faut avoir<br />
+Perruque blonde, et collet noir!"</p>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Peggy's injury proved to be slight, as she herself had declared, but the
+jar had been considerable, and her head ached so that she was glad to be
+put to bed and nursed by Margaret. Rita hovered about, still very pale,
+and apparently much more disturbed by the accident than the actual
+sufferer. She put many questions: Would Peggy be well to-morrow?
+Probably still weak? Would it be necessary for her to remain in her room
+this evening? In that case, what would Margaret do? Would she leave her
+to Elizabeth's care, and come down as usual?</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not!" Margaret replied. "Elizabeth<a class="pagenum" name="page_209" id="page_209" title="209"></a> will stay with Peggy at
+tea-time, but otherwise I shall not leave her. You don't mind staying
+alone, Rita? Of course, there is not much to be done; Peggy is not ill
+at all, only weak and tired, but she likes to have me with her. You will
+not be lonely?"</p>
+
+<p>No; Rita had letters to write. She should do very well. Desolated, of
+course, without the two who were her soul and her existence; but
+Margaret understood that she could not bear the sight of sickness; it
+had been thus from infancy. Margaret nodded kindly, and went back into
+Peggy's room, with an impression that Rita was pleased at having her out
+of the way. Out of the way of what? But Margaret could not think about
+mysteries now. Peggy wanted to talk, and to have her head stroked, and
+to know that Margaret was near her.</p>
+
+<p>"Your hand is so smooth, Margaret. I never felt anything like it; and
+the smoothness and coolness seem to go into my head, and stop the
+aching. Do you think this is being sick? If it is, I like it."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret saw that the child was excited, and her eyes were overbright.
+"No; this is not<a class="pagenum" name="page_210" id="page_210" title="210"></a> being sick," she said quietly. "But you ought to be
+sleepy by this time, my pussy. Lie still now, like a good child, and I
+will sing to you. Will you have the 'Bonny House o' Airlie?'"</p>
+
+<p>But it was long before Peggy could be quieted. She wanted to talk. She
+was full of reminiscences of former "croppers" in the lives of the
+various members of her family. She wanted to tell how Jim was dragged by
+the buffalo bull he was taming; how Pa caught the young grizzly by his
+paws, and held him until George came with the rifle; how Brown Billy ran
+away with her when she was six years old, and how she held on by his
+mane till he lay down and rolled in the creek, and then swam ashore. Her
+brain was feverishly excited, and it was not till late in the evening
+that Margaret succeeded in singing and soothing the tired girl to sleep.
+At length Peggy lay still, and her thoughts began to sink away into soft
+dreams, lulled by the soft hand on her brow, and the smooth, sweet voice
+in her ears. She opened her eyes to say, "I love you, Margaret; I love
+you best, over and over, all the time. If I thought I didn't for a bit,
+that was just because I was a stupid, and<a class="pagenum" name="page_211" id="page_211" title="211"></a> she&mdash;but now I know." And
+Peggy smiled, and smiling, fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sat still for a time, listening to the breathing that grew
+deeper and more regular as the minutes went on. She had brought her own
+bed across the hall, meaning to sleep with Peggy, in case of her waking
+in the night; though that was hardly likely. It was ten o'clock now, and
+Rita was probably asleep. She would go down for a moment to see that all
+was well, and perhaps have a word with Elizabeth, if she were not gone
+to bed. She went softly to the door, and turned the handle noiselessly.
+The door was locked!</p>
+
+<p>Greatly startled, Margaret stood motionless for a few minutes, thinking
+and listening. At first all was still. Footsteps above her
+head,&mdash;Elizabeth was going to bed; then the familiar creak of the good
+woman's bed; then silence again. Rita's room was across the hall, and
+she could hear no sound from there. Through the open window came the
+soft night noises: the dew dripping from the chestnut leaves, a little
+sleepy wind stirring the branches, a nut falling to the ground. How
+still!<a class="pagenum" name="page_212" id="page_212" title="212"></a></p>
+
+<p>Hark! did a twig snap then? Was some one moving through the shrubbery,
+brushing gently against the leaves? And then, as her heart stood still
+to listen, Margaret heard a low, musical whistle. She stole to the
+window, and standing in the shadow of the curtain, looked out. A light
+was burning in her room, and at first she could see nothing but
+blackness outside. Gradually, the outlines of the great chestnut stole
+out from the empty darkness, a hard black against the soft gloom of the
+night. Then the shrubbery behind; and then&mdash;was something moving there?
+Were those two figures standing by the tree?</p>
+
+<p>The whistle was repeated; and now Margaret heard the swift rustle of
+silk brushing against her door, then fluttering from baluster to
+baluster, as Rita sped down the stairs. A door opening softly, and now
+three figures stood under the chestnut-tree. Words were whispered,
+greetings exchanged; then the three figures stole away into the
+blackness.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret felt helpless for a moment. Locked in,&mdash;her cousin asleep here,
+exhausted if not ill, and needing absolute quiet,&mdash;and going on
+downstairs&mdash;what?<a class="pagenum" name="page_213" id="page_213" title="213"></a> She must know! She must call John Strong, and warn
+him that her fears were realised, and that unwelcome visitors were
+already at the doors of Fernley, perhaps already within. But how was it
+possible? She ran to the window and looked down. Full twenty feet! To
+jump was impossible; even Peggy could not have done it. Peggy! yes! but
+Peggy could get out. Only the other night she had had a climbing frenzy,
+and had slid down the gutter-spout, half for the joy of it, half to
+tease Margaret, who was in terror till she reached the ground, and then
+in greater terror when the young gymnast came "shinning" up again,
+shouting and giggling. The spout! Margaret stood looking at it now. For
+a moment her courage deserted her, and she wrung her hands and began to
+sob under her breath; but this would not do! Her nerves knew the
+resolute shake of the shoulders, and shrank into obedience. She set her
+lips firmly, and there crept into her face a certain "dour" look that
+may have come from her Scottish ancestors. "If a thing has to be done,
+why, it must be done!" she said to herself. "Anyhow, there will be<a class="pagenum" name="page_214" id="page_214" title="214"></a>
+solid ground at the bottom, not a quaking bog."</p>
+
+<p>Could she do it? She had never climbed in her life. She had been wont to
+grow dizzy on any great height; and here she reflected that she had
+inwardly laughed at Rita, a few hours before, for growing dizzy at the
+sight of blood. "But I have to learn so many lessons!" said poor
+Margaret, and with that she laid her hand on the spout. A moment longer
+she waited, but no longer in hesitation,&mdash;she was simply asking for
+strength from One who had never refused it yet; then she clasped the
+pipe with both hands, swung herself out as she had seen Peggy do, and
+slid down, down, down.</p>
+
+<p>Her hands were torn and bleeding, but she reached the ground in safety,
+falling several feet, but escaping with a few bruises which she did not
+feel at the time. She ran round the house toward the east wing, where
+the gardener's room was, but stopped half-way. The door of the
+ground-floor room, her uncle's private room, was open; a light was
+burning inside. Possibly John Strong was himself on the watch, and she
+need go no farther. Margaret turned<a class="pagenum" name="page_215" id="page_215" title="215"></a> hastily, entered the room,&mdash;and was
+confronted by two young gentlemen in Spanish cloaks and broad-brimmed
+hats.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret's first impulse was to run away; her second, to stand and wait,
+feeling that she was at a play, and that the next scene was going to be
+very thrilling; but the third impulse was the right one, and she stepped
+forward, holding out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You are my Cousin Carlos, I am sure!" she said, addressing the taller
+of the two lads (for they were only lads, she saw to her unspeakable
+relief; the elder could not be more than twenty). "I am Margaret
+Montfort. You&mdash;you have seen Rita?"</p>
+
+<p>Don Carlos Montfort gasped and bowed, hat in hand. He and his companion
+were evidently new to their r&ocirc;le of conspirators, for they were
+piteously ill at ease, and their dark eyes roamed about as if in search
+of retreat; but he managed to say something about the distinguished
+honour&mdash;a spare hour to visit his sister&mdash;delight at making the
+acquaintance of a relative so charming,&mdash;here he stopped and looked over
+his shoulder, for footsteps were heard, and he hoped<a class="pagenum" name="page_216" id="page_216" title="216"></a> Rita was coming.
+Already he and his comrade were cursing themselves for having been asses
+enough to be drawn into this scrape; why had they attended to a foolish
+girl instead of going their own way? Now they were in a trap&mdash;was that
+Rita coming?</p>
+
+<p>The door of the secret staircase was open, showing which way the girl
+had gone. But the steps that were now descending were heavy, though
+quiet,&mdash;far different from the rush of an excited bird that had gone up
+a moment before Margaret's appearance. They were to follow Rita,&mdash;she
+went to light a candle. Ah! what was this?</p>
+
+<p>The young men recoiled, and their dark eyes opened to their fullest
+width; Margaret's hands came together with a violent clasp. Down the
+narrow stair and into the room came a man in a black velvet jacket; a
+tall man, with bright, dark eyes and a grave face. He held a candle in
+his hand; he set it down, and turned to the two disconcerted Spaniards.</p>
+
+<p>"My nephew," said Mr. Montfort, "I am glad to welcome you and your
+friend to Fernley House. I am your Uncle John!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_217" id="page_217" title="217"></a></p>
+
+<p>Margaret was not conscious of any surprise. It seemed part of the play,
+and as if she had known it all along, but had not been allowed to
+realise it, for some dramatic reason. She saw John Strong&mdash;John
+Montfort&mdash;shaking hands with the two unhappy young men, and trying to
+put them at their ease by speaking of the bad roads and the poor
+conveyances that were undoubtedly to blame for their arriving so late.
+She saw and heard, but still as in a dream. Her real thought was for
+Rita; what would she do? What desperate step might follow this
+disconcerting of her cherished plan?</p>
+
+<p>Unconsciously Margaret had moved forward, till now she stood the nearest
+to the foot of the stairs. She looked up into the darkness, with some
+thought of going to her cousin, telling her gently what had happened,
+and quieting her so that she might come down and face the situation, and
+meet her uncle. All at once, from that darkness above, a bright light
+sprang up, and the same instant there rang out a wild and terrible
+shriek.</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Carlos, help! I burn!"</p>
+
+<p>The three men started forward, but they<a class="pagenum" name="page_218" id="page_218" title="218"></a> were not the first. Margaret
+was conscious of but a single movement as she flew up the stairs, never
+stumbling, lighted by that fearful glare above. To spring into the
+garret, to drag down the heavy old cloak&mdash;the same that once had
+frightened the three girls on their first visit&mdash;that hung close by the
+stairway, to fling herself upon Rita, throwing her down, muffling her,
+smothering and beating out the flames that were leaping up toward the
+girl's white, wild face,&mdash;all this was done in one breath, it seemed to
+her. She knew nothing in the world but the fire she was fighting, the
+little flames that, choked down in one place, came creeping out at her
+from another, playing a dreadful hide-and-seek among the folds of the
+cloak, starting up under her very hands; but Margaret caught them in her
+hands, and strangled the life out of them, and fought on. It was but a
+moment, in reality. Another second or two and the flames would have had
+the mastery; but Margaret's swift rush had been in time, and the good
+heavy cloak&mdash;oh, the blessed weight and closeness of its fabric!&mdash;had
+shut out the<a class="pagenum" name="page_219" id="page_219" title="219"></a> air, so that by the time the last of the three anxious
+pursuers had reached the garret, the fire was out, and only smoke and
+charred woollen remained to tell of the terrible danger. Only these&mdash;and
+the two hands, burned and blistered, that Margaret was holding out to
+her uncle, as he bent anxiously over her.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be angry with her, Uncle!" cried the girl. And she knew nothing
+more.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_220" id="page_220" title="220"></a>
+<a name="EXPLANATIONS_4221" id="EXPLANATIONS_4221"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+<h3>EXPLANATIONS.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"And she really is not hurt, Uncle John?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so much as an eyelash! You were so quick, child! How did you manage
+it? She had only time to scream and put her hands to her face, before
+you were upon her. The thing that flared up so was a lace shawl she had
+on her arm,&mdash;switched it into the candle, of course!&mdash;and that she
+dropped. It is not of her I am thinking, but of you, my dear, brave
+Margaret!" He bent over her tenderly and anxiously; but she smiled
+brightly in his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Truly, they hardly hurt at all! As you say, I must have been very
+quick, and the flames were only little ones. Elizabeth has bandaged them
+so beautifully; the pain is almost gone already."</p>
+
+<p>They were in Margaret's room; she on her sofa, with her hands swathed in
+bandages, but<a class="pagenum" name="page_221" id="page_221" title="221"></a> otherwise looking quite her own self, only a little paler
+than usual; her uncle sitting by her, his hand on her arm. Peggy
+fluttered in and out of the room, entirely recovered from the effect of
+her fall the day before, and proud beyond measure of having charge of
+Margaret, who last night had been watching and tending her. Peggy's
+nursing was of doubtful quality; already she had baptised Margaret
+twice,&mdash;once with gruel, again with cologne, when the cork with which
+she had been struggling came out suddenly, deluging her patient with
+fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>But her good will was so hearty, her affection so ardent and so anxious
+to prove itself, that Margaret had not the heart to deny her anything,
+and submitted to having her hair brushed in a style that was entirely
+new to her, and that made her wink at each vigorous stroke of the brush.</p>
+
+<p>Rita had not been seen since the night before, save by Elizabeth, who
+pronounced her well, but "a little upset, Miss!" and Elizabeth's face
+was a study in repression as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"And the boys, Uncle?" Margaret asked,<a class="pagenum" name="page_222" id="page_222" title="222"></a> when she was assured of Rita's
+safety. "What have you done with them?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Montfort laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor boys!" he said. "Poor lads! they have had a hard time of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do tell me!" cried Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, they are all right; the boys are all right!" said Mr. Montfort.
+"It is that little monkey over there," nodding toward Rita's room, "who
+has made all the trouble. They have been fighting, it is true, and have
+been in the mountains with the insurgents. Very interesting their
+account of it is, too. If I were thirty years younger&mdash;but that is not
+the point. They were sent to New York by their chief on private
+business; something of importance, but perfectly legitimate,&mdash;nothing to
+do with arms or anything of the kind. Well, Carlos did not tell Rita the
+object of his coming, and she instantly saw fire and gunpowder, treason
+and plot,&mdash;in short, cooked up a whole melodrama to suit herself,&mdash;and
+believed it, I have no doubt, an hour after she invented it. She wrote
+Carlos mysterious letters, imploring him to come to her secretly; that
+her fate and<a class="pagenum" name="page_223" id="page_223" title="223"></a> that of her country depended upon his faithfulness and
+silence; that she was surrounded by spies&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Peggy and me!" cried Margaret. "And you, too, Uncle John! She has
+really had painful suspicions of you."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt, no doubt! but in my case she had a right to suspicions. We
+will come to that presently. In short, the boy got the impression that
+his sister was immured in a kind of dungeon, surrounded by people who
+were unkind to her, and unable to get away or to call for help openly.
+He says he ought to have known better, for apparently she has been
+acting plays ever since she was short-coated; but this time he was
+really taken in, and came here last night, with his friend and cousin,
+meaning to rescue his sister and take her home to Cuba. Found her not
+desiring in the least to be rescued, but bent on hiding them both in the
+garret, and keeping them there till a cargo of arms and a vessel could
+be brought from New York. You know the rest. Carlos was in the library
+when I came up, waiting for an interview with Rita. I think it may be a
+lively one."<a class="pagenum" name="page_224" id="page_224" title="224"></a></p>
+
+<p>"And the other; the cousin? I hardly saw him. They were both so
+embarrassed, poor dears!"</p>
+
+<p>"Seems a good little fellow; good little fellow enough! Gentlemanly
+boys, both of them. Carlos is much more of a person than the other.
+He&mdash;Fernando Sanchez&mdash;admires Rita a good deal, I should say, and tries
+to find her conduct admirable; but her brother&mdash;hark!"</p>
+
+<p>Something like a silken whirlwind came rushing up the stairs and across
+the hall; something that sobbed with fury, and stamped with feet that
+were too small to make much noise; then a door on the other side of the
+hall shut with a bang that made the solid walls quiver. Margaret and her
+uncle looked at each other. Presently Peggy came in, with round,
+frightened eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with Rita?" she asked. "Has she been in here? She
+came flying across the hall just now&mdash;oh, dear! I was just coming out of
+my room, and she took me and shook me, just as hard as she could shake.
+Why, my teeth chattered, Margaret! and then she flung off into her room,
+and slammed the<a class="pagenum" name="page_225" id="page_225" title="225"></a> door. My! she was in a tantrum! Oh, I&mdash;I&mdash;beg your
+pardon!" She faltered at the sight of her uncle, and hung back. She had
+only learned this morning of the astonishing transformation of her
+friend the gardener into the unknown and formidable relative.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Montfort held out his hand, with the smile that always went to
+Peggy's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Peggy," he said, "and what roses will you have to-day? My
+dear child," he added, seeing that she was really distressed, "you are
+not really troubled at my little masquerade? I am going to tell you all
+about it soon,&mdash;as soon as I can see my three Margarets together. I feel
+that I owe you all an explanation. Margaret has already heard part of my
+story, and when Rita comes in, as I hope she will do soon,&mdash;I sent word
+to her that I should be glad to see her here when she had had her talk
+with her brother,&mdash;we will go over the whole matter, and find out what
+John Strong and John Montfort have to say for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>He turned the subject, and began to talk of the garden and the flowers,
+in his usual quiet, cheerful way, till Peggy began to steal shy<a class="pagenum" name="page_226" id="page_226" title="226"></a> glances
+at him under her eyelashes, and finally to hold her head up and smile
+without looking as if she had stolen a sheep.</p>
+
+<p>They had not long to wait. Before they had settled the position of the
+new rose-bed, Rita's door was heard to open softly; then came the sound
+of trailing garments in slow and stately motion, and the next moment
+Rita entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed in deep black from head to foot. A black veil covered
+her hair, and hung gracefully from her shoulders, and in her hand she
+carried a black fan.</p>
+
+<p>There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale but lovely.
+Mr. Montfort rose and came forward, holding out his hand. "My dear
+niece," he said with some formality, "let us shake hands in all
+friendliness."</p>
+
+<p>But Rita did not take the outstretched hand. Instead, she folded her
+hands, and sank down in the deepest and most beautiful courtesy that
+ever was seen. Her eyes remained downcast, the long lashes resting on
+her clear, white cheek.<a class="pagenum" name="page_227" id="page_227" title="227"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style='width:300px'>
+<a name="illus-008" id="illus-008"></a>
+<img src="images/im3-227.jpg" alt="RITA&#39;S APOLOGY." title="" width="300" /><br />
+<span class="caption">RITA&#39;S APOLOGY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_229" id="page_229" title="229"></a>"My uncle," she said, and her tone was dignified, pathetic, and
+resentful, all in one, "I come to make my submission to you, and to ask
+your pardon for my offences. My brother demands it, and I obey the head
+of my house, the representative of my father. I pray you to forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Montfort subdued an unruly twinkle in his eyes, and answered
+gravely:</p>
+
+<p>"I pardon you, my niece, freely. I beg you to consider the matter as if
+it had never existed. My house is yours, and all that it contains; pray
+be seated."</p>
+
+<p>Rita looked up, startled at hearing in English the phrase of Spanish
+courtesy so familiar to her ears; but Mr. Montfort's face was
+inscrutable, as he brought forward a chair, and handed her to it as if
+she were a duchess.</p>
+
+<p>But Rita was not ready to sit down yet; she had arranged her scene, and
+must go through with it. She advanced, and knelt down by Margaret's
+couch. "Marguerite," she said sadly, "you saved my life. It was
+valueless, I have learned; it was not worth the saving; nevertheless I
+thank you from my heart of hearts. I&mdash;" Here she caught sight of the
+bandaged hands, which Margaret had been trying to conceal<a class="pagenum" name="page_230" id="page_230" title="230"></a> beneath the
+afghan. Instantly the tragic mask fell from Rita's face, and left a real
+human countenance, full of pity and anxiety. "My dear!" she cried. "My
+angel, my poor suffering Marguerite. Ah! you sent me word it was
+nothing. You are injured, terribly injured, and by my fault. Ah! now
+Carlos <i>must</i> let me die, as I desire. Life is no longer possible!"</p>
+
+<p>The words were extravagant, but there was real grief and distress in the
+tone. She laid her head on Margaret's shoulder and sobbed aloud; and
+Peggy was heartily glad to hear her cry, and cried in sympathy. Margaret
+could not stroke the dark head, but she moved her own near it, and
+whispered little comforting words, and kissed the soft hair. And
+presently, finding that the sobs only increased in violence, she
+whispered to Rita that she was distressing her uncle, and that she
+really must try to be quiet on his account. At the sound of his name,
+Rita froze again, though not to her former degree of rigour; with a
+fervent kiss on Margaret's brow, she rose, and finally took the chair
+that had been placed for her. Mr. Montfort sat down opposite, and a
+brief silence followed. He<a class="pagenum" name="page_231" id="page_231" title="231"></a> seemed to be thinking what he should say. At
+length he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear nieces, this is a day of explanations, and I feel that I owe
+you all an explanation of my conduct, which, doubtless, must appear
+strange to you. I&mdash;well, I suppose I am an eccentric man. I have always
+been considered so, and I confess not without apparent reason. I have
+often been able to justify to myself conduct which has seemed strange to
+others; and it has been my misfortune to live so much alone, that
+perhaps I may rely too much on this practice of self-justification.</p>
+
+<p>"It is now five years since my friend and cousin, Mrs. Cheriton, came to
+live with me. I have been made sensible, by her sweet and gracious
+presence, that my life before had been very grim and solitary, and I
+determined that it should be so no more. I also felt that while she was
+spared to me it would be a happiness and a benefit to her to have some
+young life about the house; to have, in short, some young and sweet
+woman, who could be her companion in a hundred ways that would not be
+possible for a solitary bachelor like myself.<a class="pagenum" name="page_232" id="page_232" title="232"></a></p>
+
+<p>"With these thoughts in my mind, I naturally turned to the young women
+directly connected with me,&mdash;to the daughters of my brothers. I had
+never seen any of them; troubles into which it is not necessary for me
+to enter had made me withdraw until lately from all society, and I had
+not felt able to respond to the kind invitations sent me from time to
+time to visit one brother or another. I conceived the plan of sending
+for you three cousins to spend the summer with me, with the idea that at
+the end of the time I might ask one of you&mdash;the one who should seem most
+contented, and who should be best suited to a quiet, country
+life&mdash;to&mdash;a&mdash;to remain longer. This was my first plan. Perhaps it might
+have been better if I had adhered to it; but I subsequently modified it,
+not without a good deal of thought. It would be dull for you, I
+reflected&mdash;<i>triste</i>, as Rita would say,&mdash;here with me. A strange uncle,
+an elderly man, unused to young people, could not fail to be a constant
+check, a constant restraint upon gay and youthful spirits. I wanted you
+to be happy, so I decided to efface myself for a time, to let you have
+the home of your fathers for<a class="pagenum" name="page_233" id="page_233" title="233"></a> your own, unhampered by the presence of
+its owner."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret made a motion of eager remonstrance, but her uncle checked her
+with raised hand.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment, my dear! I now come to John Strong."</p>
+
+<p>Rita raised her eyes to his, full of proud defiance.</p>
+
+<p>"I deceived you!" he went on, answering her look. "I now think it was
+wrong, and Mrs. Cheriton, I ought to add, was opposed to the plan. But
+in the first place my presence here was necessary for many reasons; and
+in the second place I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you as you
+really were, not constrained or on good behaviour, or in any way changed
+from your own true selves. I think I succeeded."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence, which none of the girls dared to break.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is John Strong Montfort. I have been in the habit of spending a
+part of every day among my plants and flowers, for reasons of health and
+pleasure. It was simple enough for me to go from my private rooms to the
+garden,<a class="pagenum" name="page_234" id="page_234" title="234"></a> to use the private staircase which&mdash;a&mdash;with which you are
+familiar,"&mdash;Peggy winced and Margaret blushed, but Rita continued her
+direct gaze at her uncle and gave no sign,&mdash;"and to pass (by a way that
+has not yet been discovered) to and from the White Rooms. I intended to
+keep up this little farce for a few weeks only, but somehow the time has
+slipped by, and each day has brought you some new occupation which I was
+loath to interrupt. Lately, I confess, there has been a new incentive to
+secrecy, and perhaps&mdash;Rita&mdash;perhaps I may have been boy enough, old as I
+am, to enjoy my own little conspiracy. It is over; the play is played
+out. I have already made my peace with Margaret, and I think Peggy is
+prepared to accept my explanation. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita had followed every word with breathless attention, her colour
+coming and going, her eyes growing momently brighter. Now, at this
+direct appeal, she rose and flung out her arms with the dramatic gesture
+so familiar to two of her hearers.</p>
+
+<p>"I say?" she repeated. "I say it was magnificent! It was superb!
+Marguerite, do I<a class="pagenum" name="page_235" id="page_235" title="235"></a> exaggerate? It was <i>inspired</i>! My uncle, I am prepared
+to adore you!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Montfort looked alarmed, but pleased. Rita went on, glowing with
+enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"It was perfectly conceived, perfectly carried out! Ah, why were you not
+on my side? Together, you and I, we could have done&mdash;everything!"</p>
+
+<p>"You did not ask me, my dear!" said Mr. Montfort dryly. There was that
+in his look that made Rita blush at last. But in her present mood she
+could bear anything.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg again your pardon!" she cried. "Uncle, this time I beg for my own
+self pardon, of my own will. I was bad, wicked, abominable! Marguerite
+was right; she is always right! I kneel to you in penitence!"</p>
+
+<p>And she would have knelt down, then and there, if her uncle had not
+stopped her hastily and positively.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me a kiss instead, my dear!" he said. "We have had heroics enough
+for one day, and we must come down to plain common sense. Rita, Peggy,
+Margaret,&mdash;my three Margaret Montforts,&mdash;I wish and mean to love you<a class="pagenum" name="page_236" id="page_236" title="236"></a>
+all." He stooped and kissed each girl on the forehead; but he lingered
+by Margaret's side, and laid his hand on her hair with a silent gesture
+which held a blessing in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret, you must rest now!" he said with kind authority. "Rita, we
+have left your brother and cousin too long alone. Come with me, and let
+us see what we can do to make them forget their untoward introduction to
+Fernley House."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em">
+<a class="pagenum" name="page_237" id="page_237" title="237"></a>
+<a name="FAREWELL_4520" id="FAREWELL_4520"></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+<h3>FAREWELL.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The days that followed were merry ones at Fernley House. Mr. Montfort
+insisted on treating both the young Cubans as his nephews, and found
+them, as he said, very pleasant lads. Carlos had something of Rita's
+fire, but with it a good share of common sense that kept him from folly.
+Fernando was a mild and gentle youth, with nothing passionate about him
+save his moustache, which curled with ferocity. His large, dark eyes
+were soft and melting, his smile pleased and apologetic; but Rita
+persisted in considering him a fire-eater of the most incendiary type,
+and enjoyed this view so much that no one had the heart to undeceive
+her. Altogether, the two lads made a charming addition to the party, and
+no one was in a hurry to break it up. Rita was to return to Cuba with<a class="pagenum" name="page_238" id="page_238" title="238"></a>
+her brother, but Carlos showed a most thoughtful unwillingness to hasten
+his sister's departure. Peggy's flaxen hair and blue eyes had been a
+revelation to the young man, accustomed to dark beauties all his life,
+and he found "Cosine Paygi" a charming companion. They were excellent
+friends, and when Rita and Fernando sighed and rolled their eyes (as
+they were very fond of doing), Peggy and Carlos laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was still kept a little quiet by her hands, though the blisters
+were rapidly healing. The other four scampered here and there, playing
+hide and seek in the house, straying through the garden, dancing,
+singing, from morning to night. Margaret was always at hand to welcome
+them when they came in, to listen and laugh, or sympathise, as the case
+might demand. She was happy, too, in her own way, but she found herself
+wondering, as she had wondered before, whether she were seventeen or
+thirty-seven, and there was no doubt in her mind that Uncle John was
+nearer her in age than any of the others. Her heart was full of quiet
+happiness, for this dear uncle had asked her if she would stay with him,
+would make her<a class="pagenum" name="page_239" id="page_239" title="239"></a> home here at Fernley with him and Aunt Faith. She felt
+as if nothing in the world could have given her such happiness, and she
+shook her head, smiling, at Rita's violent protestations that she must
+come to Cuba, and at Peggy's equally earnest prayers that she would come
+out with her to the Ranch.</p>
+
+<p>"Some day!" was all she could be brought to say, when her cousins hung
+about her with affection whose sincerity she could not doubt.</p>
+
+<p>"Some day, dear girls, when Uncle John can come with me. As long as he
+needs me here, here I stay!"</p>
+
+<p>And Peggy would pout and shake her shoulders, and Rita would fling away
+and call her an iceberg, a snow-queen, with marble for a heart; and two
+minutes after they would both be waltzing through the hall like wild
+creatures, calling on Margaret to observe how beautifully the boys were
+learning the new step.</p>
+
+<p>The young men had been taken to visit Mrs. Cheriton, and came away so
+deeply smitten that they could talk of nothing else for some time. Rita
+and Peggy opened their young eyes very wide when Carlos declared she was
+the<a class="pagenum" name="page_240" id="page_240" title="240"></a> most beautiful person he had ever seen, and Fernando responded with
+fervour:</p>
+
+<p>"She eess a <i>go</i>dess! the wairld <i>con</i>tains not of soche."</p>
+
+<p>But the goddess could not dance, nor play "I spy!" and the girls soon
+had it their own way again.</p>
+
+<p>And so the day came when the dancing and playing must stop. The day
+came, and the hour came; and a group, half sad, half joyful, was
+gathered on the stone veranda, while White Eagle stood ready at the foot
+of the steps, with William, waiting to drive the four travellers to the
+ferry. Four; for Peggy was to be met in New York by a friend and
+neighbour of her father's who was to take her home.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy's eyes were red with weeping. Her hat was on wrong side before,
+and her veil was tied in a hard knot, as it had been on the night of her
+arrival; but Peggy did not care. She submitted while Margaret set the
+hat straight; then clung round her neck, and sobbed till Carlos was
+quite distracted. "Margaret, I&mdash;I want to tell you!" she whispered<a class="pagenum" name="page_241" id="page_241" title="241"></a>
+through her tears. "I am going to be a different girl at home now. I am
+going to&mdash;try&mdash;to remember the way you do things, and to be a little
+like you. Oh, Margaret, only a little! but I want you to think that I am
+trying, and&mdash;and&mdash;I will remember about my buttons&mdash;and&mdash;have my boots
+blacked. Oh, Margaret, you have been so good to me, and I do love you
+so, and now I&mdash;am&mdash;going away to leave you!"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was in tears, too, by this time, seventeen having got the upper
+hand of thirty-seven completely.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear!" she said. "My dear, darling little Peggy, I shall miss
+you,&mdash;oh, so much! And dear, you have taught me as much as I have taught
+you, and more. Think of the bog! oh, Peggy, think of the bog! and the
+gutter-spout! I shall never be such a coward again, and all because of
+you, Peggy. And we will write to each other, dear, every week, won't we?
+and we will always be sisters, just the same as own sisters. Good-bye,
+my little girl! good-bye, my dear little girl!"</p>
+
+<p>The sobbing Peggy was lifted into the carriage;<a class="pagenum" name="page_242" id="page_242" title="242"></a> and now it was Rita's
+turn to cling about Margaret with fondest words and caresses.</p>
+
+<p>"Marguerite, we part!" she said. "<i>Tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>, how can I leave thee?
+I&mdash;I have learned much since I came here. We are different, yes! but I
+know that it is lovely to be good, though I am not good myself. You
+would not have me good, Marguerite? It would destroy my personnel! But I
+love goodness, and thee, the spirit of it. Don't shake your head, for I
+will not submit to it. You are good, I tell you,&mdash;good like my mother,
+my angel. You will think of me, <i>ch&eacute;rie</i>?&mdash;you will think of your
+Spanish Rita, and warm your kind, cool heart with the thought? Yes, I
+know you will. You will be happy here with the uncle. Yes! he's like
+you,&mdash;you will suit each other! For me, it would be death in two weeks;
+yet he is noble, he has the grand air. <i>Tr&egrave;s ch&egrave;re</i>, I have left for you
+the bracelet with the rubies; it is on your toilet-table. You admired
+it,&mdash;it was yours from that moment, but I waited, for I knew that one
+day we must part. They are drops of blood, Marguerite, from my
+heart,&mdash;Rita's heart,&mdash;which beats ever for you. <i>Adios, mi alma!</i>"<a class="pagenum" name="page_243" id="page_243" title="243"></a></p>
+
+<p>All this was poured into Margaret's ear with such rapidity and fire that
+she could make no reply; could only embrace her cousin warmly, and
+promise constant thought and frequent letters.</p>
+
+<p>And now Carlos was bending to kiss her hand, rather to her confusion. He
+regarded her with awe and veneration, and murmured that she was a lily
+of goodness. Fernando was saluting her with three bows, each more
+magnificent than the other. Mr. Montfort kissed the girls warmly, shook
+hands cordially with the young men.</p>
+
+<p>Hands were kissed, handkerchiefs waved. Peggy, drowned in tears, looked
+back to utter a last farewell.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Margaret! Good-bye, darling Margaret! Don't forget us!"</p>
+
+<p>They were gone, and Margaret stood on the veranda and wept, her heart
+longing for her mates; but presently she dried her eyes, and looked up
+to greet her uncle with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear girls!" she said; "it has been so good, so good, to have them and
+know them. You have given us all a great happiness, Uncle John.<a class="pagenum" name="page_244" id="page_244" title="244"></a> And now
+they are going home to their own people, and that is well, too."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are staying at home," said John Montfort, "with your own
+people. This is your home, Margaret, as long as it is mine. I cannot be
+your father, dear, but you must let me come as near as you can, for we
+have only one another,&mdash;you and Aunt Faith and I. You will stay, always,
+will you not, to be our light and comfort? I don't feel as if I could
+ever let you go again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Margaret, and her eyes ran over again with happy tears, "Oh,
+if I can really be a comfort, Uncle, I shall be so glad&mdash;so glad! but I
+know so little! I am&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Uncle John had only one word to say, and that was the one word of an
+old song that he loved, and that his mother had sung to him when he was
+a little lad in the nursery:</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+<tr><td>"Weel I ken my ain lassie;</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Kind love is in her e'e!"</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:3em; text-align:center;'>THE END</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22293-h.htm or 22293-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/9/22293/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-043.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-043.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7eb2088
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-043.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-073.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-073.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..feac3d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-073.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-105.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-105.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..80acc55
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-105.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-125.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-125.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2790d98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-125.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-143.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-143.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d6b369c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-143.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-201.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-201.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f27e61
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-201.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-227.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-227.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae87e01
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-227.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-cvr.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-cvr.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..544c18e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-cvr.jpg
diff --git a/22293-h/images/im3-fpc.jpg b/22293-h/images/im3-fpc.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a6a9754
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-h/images/im3-fpc.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/c001.jpg b/22293-page-images/c001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edf44f5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/c001.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f001.jpg b/22293-page-images/f001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..20264e3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f001.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f002.png b/22293-page-images/f002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7c85910
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f002.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f003.png b/22293-page-images/f003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3143482
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f003.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f004.png b/22293-page-images/f004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2aef58
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f004.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f005.png b/22293-page-images/f005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..550cfe9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f005.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f006.png b/22293-page-images/f006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bf3ec23
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f006.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/f007.png b/22293-page-images/f007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42ba3a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/f007.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p009.png b/22293-page-images/p009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a09b8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p009.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p010.png b/22293-page-images/p010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..237b33e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p010.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p011.png b/22293-page-images/p011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4ce9c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p011.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p012.png b/22293-page-images/p012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0130e06
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p012.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p013.png b/22293-page-images/p013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..595154a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p013.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p014.png b/22293-page-images/p014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3cb0c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p014.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p015.png b/22293-page-images/p015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3dc6c60
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p015.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p016.png b/22293-page-images/p016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48d5fd2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p016.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p017.png b/22293-page-images/p017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c72cc8a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p017.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p018.png b/22293-page-images/p018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e0d2d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p018.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p019.png b/22293-page-images/p019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e3075a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p019.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p020.png b/22293-page-images/p020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..379d557
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p020.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p021.png b/22293-page-images/p021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98260b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p021.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p022.png b/22293-page-images/p022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b69607
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p022.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p023.png b/22293-page-images/p023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6e34687
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p023.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p024.png b/22293-page-images/p024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b29f182
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p024.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p025.png b/22293-page-images/p025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..668f923
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p025.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p026.png b/22293-page-images/p026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f015e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p026.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p027.png b/22293-page-images/p027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c1ca4ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p027.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p028.png b/22293-page-images/p028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ffdc09
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p028.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p029.png b/22293-page-images/p029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5062723
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p029.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p030.png b/22293-page-images/p030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f2d18bb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p030.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p031.png b/22293-page-images/p031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0e88971
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p031.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p032.png b/22293-page-images/p032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2c1e695
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p032.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p033.png b/22293-page-images/p033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc1269f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p033.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p034.png b/22293-page-images/p034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ddc47c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p034.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p035.png b/22293-page-images/p035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65c95db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p035.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p036.png b/22293-page-images/p036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2cc2cce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p036.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p037.png b/22293-page-images/p037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47a2880
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p037.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p038.png b/22293-page-images/p038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b4c0518
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p038.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p039.png b/22293-page-images/p039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e0ad90
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p039.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p040.png b/22293-page-images/p040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af0ad45
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p040.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p041.png b/22293-page-images/p041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7c9417
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p041.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p042.png b/22293-page-images/p042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..562189e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p042.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p043.jpg b/22293-page-images/p043.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c53f110
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p043.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p045.png b/22293-page-images/p045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b03ee4a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p045.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p046.png b/22293-page-images/p046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24f1fb5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p046.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p047.png b/22293-page-images/p047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48059db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p047.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p048.png b/22293-page-images/p048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a9d425
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p048.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p049.png b/22293-page-images/p049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56b1ff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p049.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p050.png b/22293-page-images/p050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe67836
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p050.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p051.png b/22293-page-images/p051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7351df7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p051.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p052.png b/22293-page-images/p052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8403617
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p052.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p053.png b/22293-page-images/p053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b4c418
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p053.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p054.png b/22293-page-images/p054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3969b42
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p054.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p055.png b/22293-page-images/p055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c20943d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p055.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p056.png b/22293-page-images/p056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4ad9745
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p056.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p057.png b/22293-page-images/p057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1145187
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p057.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p058.png b/22293-page-images/p058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ab5d15
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p058.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p059.png b/22293-page-images/p059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed5adb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p059.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p060.png b/22293-page-images/p060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d111e1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p060.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p061.png b/22293-page-images/p061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a15aba1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p061.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p062.png b/22293-page-images/p062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9b17f2d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p062.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p063.png b/22293-page-images/p063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a16fa5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p063.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p064.png b/22293-page-images/p064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..259079d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p064.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p065.png b/22293-page-images/p065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..115c4f5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p065.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p066.png b/22293-page-images/p066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..87fd31c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p066.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p067.png b/22293-page-images/p067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd0d357
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p067.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p068.png b/22293-page-images/p068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4fb576d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p068.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p069.png b/22293-page-images/p069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b0ec59a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p069.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p070.png b/22293-page-images/p070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9bc4ff9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p070.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p071.png b/22293-page-images/p071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d762648
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p071.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p072.png b/22293-page-images/p072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..68351a8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p072.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p073.jpg b/22293-page-images/p073.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fdd13a8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p073.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p075.png b/22293-page-images/p075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82b1be7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p075.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p076.png b/22293-page-images/p076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..026958f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p076.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p077.png b/22293-page-images/p077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..76b3733
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p077.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p078.png b/22293-page-images/p078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bc083cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p078.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p079.png b/22293-page-images/p079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d85b3a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p079.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p080.png b/22293-page-images/p080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..67b1de4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p080.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p081.png b/22293-page-images/p081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f5f900b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p081.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p082.png b/22293-page-images/p082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8143805
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p082.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p083.png b/22293-page-images/p083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b7aa9df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p083.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p084.png b/22293-page-images/p084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e47ffe1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p084.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p085.png b/22293-page-images/p085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9e44dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p085.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p086.png b/22293-page-images/p086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31bbaae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p086.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p087.png b/22293-page-images/p087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..087d95c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p087.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p088.png b/22293-page-images/p088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0692fd2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p088.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p089.png b/22293-page-images/p089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d2c1c2f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p089.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p090.png b/22293-page-images/p090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c679ba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p090.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p091.png b/22293-page-images/p091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9803143
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p091.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p092.png b/22293-page-images/p092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a615ee3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p092.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p093.png b/22293-page-images/p093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..23ead1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p093.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p094.png b/22293-page-images/p094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d91465
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p094.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p095.png b/22293-page-images/p095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eb6b028
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p095.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p096.png b/22293-page-images/p096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10fe070
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p096.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p097.png b/22293-page-images/p097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0f7a14
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p097.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p098.png b/22293-page-images/p098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4dc4357
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p098.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p099.png b/22293-page-images/p099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ab15b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p099.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p100.png b/22293-page-images/p100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13d03e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p100.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p101.png b/22293-page-images/p101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8212b6e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p101.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p102.png b/22293-page-images/p102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..304645f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p102.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p103.png b/22293-page-images/p103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a79fa99
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p103.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p104.png b/22293-page-images/p104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9c3a81
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p104.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p105.jpg b/22293-page-images/p105.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..629c40b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p105.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p107.png b/22293-page-images/p107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af7dffc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p107.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p108.png b/22293-page-images/p108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..840fb49
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p108.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p109.png b/22293-page-images/p109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed28c65
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p109.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p110.png b/22293-page-images/p110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8452af2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p110.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p111.png b/22293-page-images/p111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f943f85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p111.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p112.png b/22293-page-images/p112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7a1fa7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p112.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p113.png b/22293-page-images/p113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9419d0c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p113.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p114.png b/22293-page-images/p114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..11fa953
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p114.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p115.png b/22293-page-images/p115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ae8fdc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p115.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p116.png b/22293-page-images/p116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a155ce2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p116.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p117.png b/22293-page-images/p117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca3b7ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p117.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p118.png b/22293-page-images/p118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8bab0af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p118.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p119.png b/22293-page-images/p119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da42be8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p119.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p120.png b/22293-page-images/p120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2b4123
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p120.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p121.png b/22293-page-images/p121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9382f9f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p121.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p122.png b/22293-page-images/p122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..90832d2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p122.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p123.png b/22293-page-images/p123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e8425d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p123.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p124.png b/22293-page-images/p124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..90dba24
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p124.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p125.jpg b/22293-page-images/p125.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..40ccc54
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p125.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p127.png b/22293-page-images/p127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9433d67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p127.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p128.png b/22293-page-images/p128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44976f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p128.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p129.png b/22293-page-images/p129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a05e07
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p129.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p130.png b/22293-page-images/p130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3282d8f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p130.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p131.png b/22293-page-images/p131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5349921
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p131.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p132.png b/22293-page-images/p132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ce3f151
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p132.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p133.png b/22293-page-images/p133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..861ef46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p133.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p134.png b/22293-page-images/p134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7192e7e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p134.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p135.png b/22293-page-images/p135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f685db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p135.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p136.png b/22293-page-images/p136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82f7ea8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p136.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p137.png b/22293-page-images/p137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb3c69c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p137.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p138.png b/22293-page-images/p138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15f0e01
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p138.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p139.png b/22293-page-images/p139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d83f833
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p139.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p140.png b/22293-page-images/p140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7a2e73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p140.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p141.png b/22293-page-images/p141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72b0cae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p141.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p142.png b/22293-page-images/p142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b360825
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p142.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p143.jpg b/22293-page-images/p143.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75b82c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p143.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p145.png b/22293-page-images/p145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2d7ea5e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p145.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p146.png b/22293-page-images/p146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3e89082
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p146.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p147.png b/22293-page-images/p147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e1f851
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p147.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p148.png b/22293-page-images/p148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d80ba8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p148.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p149.png b/22293-page-images/p149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d0c802f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p149.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p150.png b/22293-page-images/p150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ce91e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p150.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p151.png b/22293-page-images/p151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ea88bf1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p151.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p152.png b/22293-page-images/p152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5aa014b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p152.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p153.png b/22293-page-images/p153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4b05cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p153.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p154.png b/22293-page-images/p154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f77b460
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p154.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p155.png b/22293-page-images/p155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e49e328
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p155.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p156.png b/22293-page-images/p156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..568f0ef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p156.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p157.png b/22293-page-images/p157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f16d88
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p157.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p158.png b/22293-page-images/p158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab88639
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p158.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p159.png b/22293-page-images/p159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a156d14
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p159.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p160.png b/22293-page-images/p160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a4b0d2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p160.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p161.png b/22293-page-images/p161.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd323ec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p161.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p162.png b/22293-page-images/p162.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..25eb67e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p162.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p163.png b/22293-page-images/p163.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96917d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p163.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p164.png b/22293-page-images/p164.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a121ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p164.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p165.png b/22293-page-images/p165.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56bf069
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p165.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p166.png b/22293-page-images/p166.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..38f5026
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p166.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p167.png b/22293-page-images/p167.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f0f62b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p167.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p168.png b/22293-page-images/p168.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f1594d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p168.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p169.png b/22293-page-images/p169.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3897c7f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p169.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p170.png b/22293-page-images/p170.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..83b98d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p170.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p171.png b/22293-page-images/p171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..324f51f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p171.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p172.png b/22293-page-images/p172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..60f7c70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p172.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p173.png b/22293-page-images/p173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2027ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p173.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p174.png b/22293-page-images/p174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..30510b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p174.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p175.png b/22293-page-images/p175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a66ba85
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p175.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p176.png b/22293-page-images/p176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b4b84f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p176.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p177.png b/22293-page-images/p177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ee0d442
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p177.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p178.png b/22293-page-images/p178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ddd7b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p178.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p179.png b/22293-page-images/p179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a27fea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p179.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p180.png b/22293-page-images/p180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1159965
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p180.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p181.png b/22293-page-images/p181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bbc4f52
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p181.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p182.png b/22293-page-images/p182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dc9ebe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p182.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p183.png b/22293-page-images/p183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9422442
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p183.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p184.png b/22293-page-images/p184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b8087a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p184.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p185.png b/22293-page-images/p185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6458960
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p185.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p186.png b/22293-page-images/p186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2570dc8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p186.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p187.png b/22293-page-images/p187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..326e35f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p187.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p188.png b/22293-page-images/p188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a79abf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p188.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p189.png b/22293-page-images/p189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3244a16
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p189.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p190.png b/22293-page-images/p190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2344d02
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p190.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p191.png b/22293-page-images/p191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc62a63
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p191.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p192.png b/22293-page-images/p192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a76d4cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p192.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p193.png b/22293-page-images/p193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2de47da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p193.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p194.png b/22293-page-images/p194.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5660720
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p194.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p195.png b/22293-page-images/p195.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6af88b9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p195.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p196.png b/22293-page-images/p196.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5759cb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p196.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p197.png b/22293-page-images/p197.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..063f2fb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p197.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p198.png b/22293-page-images/p198.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6ea0495
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p198.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p199.png b/22293-page-images/p199.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..636db80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p199.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p200.png b/22293-page-images/p200.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d58637
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p200.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p201.jpg b/22293-page-images/p201.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e3dd990
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p201.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p203.png b/22293-page-images/p203.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..757a4fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p203.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p204.png b/22293-page-images/p204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ea5e015
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p204.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p205.png b/22293-page-images/p205.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b19e8fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p205.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p206.png b/22293-page-images/p206.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b96214f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p206.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p207.png b/22293-page-images/p207.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63f1512
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p207.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p208.png b/22293-page-images/p208.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..031f37f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p208.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p209.png b/22293-page-images/p209.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd6572f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p209.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p210.png b/22293-page-images/p210.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..07559f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p210.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p211.png b/22293-page-images/p211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4c85c3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p211.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p212.png b/22293-page-images/p212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..11fefcc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p212.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p213.png b/22293-page-images/p213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5713362
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p213.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p214.png b/22293-page-images/p214.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ef025f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p214.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p215.png b/22293-page-images/p215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1cb7908
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p215.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p216.png b/22293-page-images/p216.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3fd8d89
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p216.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p217.png b/22293-page-images/p217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..de917a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p217.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p218.png b/22293-page-images/p218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7b6954
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p218.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p219.png b/22293-page-images/p219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1aa6d30
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p219.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p220.png b/22293-page-images/p220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8b6339b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p220.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p221.png b/22293-page-images/p221.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..350350f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p221.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p222.png b/22293-page-images/p222.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7be25f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p222.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p223.png b/22293-page-images/p223.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8fcbe33
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p223.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p224.png b/22293-page-images/p224.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aed8cbe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p224.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p225.png b/22293-page-images/p225.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96a5d8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p225.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p226.png b/22293-page-images/p226.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ba0d12
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p226.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p227.jpg b/22293-page-images/p227.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..138632b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p227.jpg
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p229.png b/22293-page-images/p229.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ce3a791
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p229.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p230.png b/22293-page-images/p230.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..232a280
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p230.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p231.png b/22293-page-images/p231.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d911637
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p231.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p232.png b/22293-page-images/p232.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..984d94f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p232.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p233.png b/22293-page-images/p233.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..496dfad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p233.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p234.png b/22293-page-images/p234.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd46a2d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p234.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p235.png b/22293-page-images/p235.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..455d81c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p235.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p236.png b/22293-page-images/p236.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..989322c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p236.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p237.png b/22293-page-images/p237.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..57c3eb8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p237.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p238.png b/22293-page-images/p238.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9db12af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p238.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p239.png b/22293-page-images/p239.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1cc46e8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p239.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p240.png b/22293-page-images/p240.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..346859a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p240.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p241.png b/22293-page-images/p241.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5840eb8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p241.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p242.png b/22293-page-images/p242.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da74464
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p242.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p243.png b/22293-page-images/p243.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e48f5da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p243.png
diff --git a/22293-page-images/p244.png b/22293-page-images/p244.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4d2f680
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293-page-images/p244.png
diff --git a/22293.txt b/22293.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8885610
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4988 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Three Margarets
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Ethelred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2007 [EBook #22293]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+[Illustration: UNCLE JOHN AND THE YOUNG CUBANS.]
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+By Laura E. Richards
+
+The MARGARET SERIES
+
+    Three Margarets
+    Margaret Montfort
+    Peggy
+    Rita
+    Fernley House
+
+The HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+    Queen Hildegarde
+    Hildegarde's Holiday
+    Hildegarde's Home
+    Hildegarde's Neighbors
+    Hildegarde's Harvest
+
+DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+Publishers
+Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THREE MARGARETS
+
+By
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+Author Of "Captain January," "Melody,"
+"Queen Hildegarde," Etc.
+
+Illustrated by
+ETHELRED B. BARRY
+
+Boston
+Dana Estes & Company
+Publishers
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1897
+By Estes and Lauriat
+
+Colonial Press:
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+CHAPTER                                     PAGE
+
+I. The Arrival                                 9
+II. First Thoughts                            21
+III. The White Lady of Fernley                36
+IV. Confidence                                51
+V. The Peat-bog                               65
+VI. The Family Chest                          81
+VII. The Garret                               98
+VIII. Cuba Libre                             115
+IX. Day by Day                               131
+X. Looking Backward                          147
+XI. Heroes and Heroines                      163
+XII. In the Saddle                           187
+XIII. In the Night                           208
+XIV. Explanations                            220
+XV. Farewell                                 237
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+                                            PAGE
+
+Uncle John and the Young Cubans     Frontispiece
+Aunt Faith's Room                             43
+Peggy at the Bog                              73
+In the Garret                                105
+"Cuba Libre"                                 125
+Peggy Writes Home                            143
+Horseback                                    201
+Rita's Apology                               227
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+THREE MARGARETS.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE ARRIVAL.
+
+
+    Long ago and long ago,
+      And long ago still,
+    There dwelt three merry maidens
+      Upon a distant hill.
+
+              Christina G. Rossetti.
+
+The rain was falling fast. It was a pleasant summer rain that plashed
+gently on the leaves of the great elms and locusts, and tinkled
+musically in the roadside puddles. Less musical was its sound as it
+drummed on the top of the great landau which was rolling along the
+avenue leading to Fernley House; but the occupants of the carriage paid
+little attention to it, each being buried in her own thoughts. The night
+was dark, and the carriage-lamps threw an uncertain gleam on the three
+figures leaning back in their corners, muffled and silent. The avenue
+was long,--interminably long, it seemed to one of the three travellers;
+and finally the silence so oppressed her that she determined to conquer
+her shyness and break it.
+
+"What a _very_ long avenue!" she said, speaking in a low, sweet voice.
+
+There was no reply. She hesitated a moment, and then added timidly,
+"Don't you think that, as we are cousins, we might introduce ourselves
+and make acquaintance? My name is Margaret Montfort."
+
+"Why, so is mine!" exclaimed the traveller opposite her. "And mine!"
+added the third, from the further corner.
+
+The voice of the second speaker sounded as if it might be hearty, and as
+if only awkwardness gave it a sullen tone. The third spoke with a soft,
+languid utterance and the faintest shade of a foreign accent.
+
+"How strange!" exclaimed the first Margaret Montfort. "Of course I knew
+that we had the same surname, as our fathers were brothers; but that we
+should all three be named--and yet it is not strange, after all!" she
+added. "Our grandmother was Margaret, and it was natural that we should
+be given her name. But how shall we manage? We cannot say First, Second,
+and Third Margaret, as they do on the stage."
+
+"I am never called anything but Peggy," said the second girl, still in a
+half-sullen, half-timid tone.
+
+And "My home name is Rita," murmured the third reluctantly; and she
+added something in an undertone about "short acquaintance," which the
+first Margaret did not choose to hear.
+
+"Oh, how pretty!" she said cordially. "Then I may call you Peggy and
+Rita? About myself"--she stopped and laughed--"I hardly know what to
+say, for I have always been called Margaret, since I was a baby."
+
+"But one of us might as well _be_ Margaret," answered Peggy. "And
+somehow, your voice sounds as if you looked like it. If this road were
+ever coming to an end, we might see."
+
+"Oh, I do see!" cried Margaret, leaning forward to look out of the
+window. "I see the lights! I see the house! We are really here at last!"
+
+As she spoke, the carriage drove up before a long building twinkling
+with lights, and stopped at a broad flight of steps, leading to a
+stone-paved veranda. As the coachman opened the carriage-door, the door
+of the house opened too, and a cheerful light streamed out upon the
+three weary travellers. Two staid waiting-women, in spotless caps and
+aprons, were waiting to receive them as they came up the steps.
+
+"This way, young ladies, if you please!" said the elder of the two. "You
+must be tired with your long drive. This is the library; and will you
+rest here a while, or will you be shown your rooms at once?"
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Margaret, "let us stay here a little while! What
+do you say, cousins?"
+
+"All right!" said Peggy. The girl whose home name was Rita had already
+thrown herself down in an armchair, and seemed to think no reply
+necessary.
+
+"Very well, miss," said the dignified waiting-woman, addressing herself
+markedly to Margaret. "Susan will come in ten minutes to show you the
+rooms, miss, and supper will be ready in half an hour. I am Elizabeth,
+miss, if you should want me. The bell is here in the corner."
+
+Margaret thanked her with a cordial smile, the other two never glancing
+in her direction, and the woman withdrew.
+
+"Just ten minutes," said Margaret, turning to her cousins, "to make
+acquaintance in, and find out what we all look like! Suppose we begin by
+taking off our wraps. How delightful the little fire is, even if we are
+in the middle of June. Let me help you, Peggy!"
+
+Peggy was fumbling at her veil, which was tied in a hard knot; but in a
+few minutes everything was off, and the three Margaret Montforts stood
+silent, gazing at each other.
+
+Nearest the fire stood the girl who was called Peggy. She was apparently
+about sixteen, plump and fair, with a profusion of blonde hair which
+looked as if it were trying to fly away. Her round, rosy cheeks, blue
+eyes, and pouting lips gave her a cherubic contour which was comically
+at variance with her little tilted nose; but she was pretty, in spite of
+her singularly ill-devised and ill-fitting costume of green flannel.
+
+Reclining in the armchair next her, the Margaret who was called Rita
+was a startling contrast to the rosy Peggy. She was a year older, slight
+and graceful, her simple black gown fitting like a glove and saying
+"Paris" in every seam. Her hair was absolutely black, her eyes large and
+dark, her delicate features regular and finely cut; but the beautiful
+face wore an expression of discontent, and there were two fine vertical
+lines between the eyebrows. Her complexion had the clear pallor of a
+Cape Jessamine.
+
+Facing these two, and looking with thoughtful eyes from one to the
+other, stood the girl whom we have spoken of as the first Margaret. She
+was seventeen, within two months of the age of her dark-eyed cousin.
+Lacking the brilliant colouring of the other two, her face had its own
+charm. Her eyes were dark gray, with violet shades in them, deepened by
+the long and heavy black lashes. The faint tinge of colour in her smooth
+cheeks was that of the wild rose; her wavy chestnut hair had glints of
+gold here and there in it, and though her nose was nothing in
+particular, she had the prettiest mouth in the world, and a dimple
+beside it. In conclusion, she was dressed in dark blue, simply, yet
+tastefully too.
+
+"Well," said Peggy, breaking the silence with an embarrassed giggle, "I
+hope we shall know each other the next time we meet."
+
+Margaret blushed. "I fear I have been staring rudely!" she said. "But I
+have never had any cousins before,--never seen any, that is, and I am
+really so glad to know you both! Let us shake hands, girls, and try to
+be friends!"
+
+She spoke so pleasantly that Peggy's plump hand and Rita's delicate
+white fingers were at once extended. Holding them in her own, Margaret
+hesitated a moment, and then, bending forward, kissed both girls timidly
+on the cheek.
+
+"Our fathers were own brothers," she said. "We must try to be fond of
+each other. And now," she added, "let us all tell our tells, as the
+children say. Rita, you shall begin. Tell us about yourself and your
+home, and anything else that you will."
+
+Rita settled herself comfortably in her chair, and looked meditatively
+at the tip of her little boot.
+
+"My home," she said, "is in Havana. My mother was a Spaniard, a San
+Real. My father is Richard Montfort. My mother died three years ago, and
+my father has lately married again, a girl of my own age. You may
+imagine that I do not find home particularly attractive now, so I was
+glad to accept my Uncle John's invitation to spend the summer here. As I
+have money in my own right, I was at liberty to do as I pleased; nor in
+truth did my father object, but the contrary. I have never seen my
+uncle."
+
+"Nor I!" "Nor I!" exclaimed the other two.
+
+"But I received this note from him a month ago."
+
+She produced a note from her reticule, and read as follows.
+
+     "MY DEAR NIECE:
+
+     The thought has occurred to me that it would be well for you to
+     make some acquaintance with the home of your fathers. I therefore
+     invite you to spend the coming summer here, with the daughters of
+     my brothers James and Roger, to whom I have extended a similar
+     invitation. Business will unhappily prevent me from receiving you
+     in person, but my cousin and yours, Mrs. Cheriton, who resides at
+     Fernley, will pay you every attention.
+
+     Trusting that this plan will meet with your approval and that of
+     your father,
+
+
+                                            I am, my dear niece,
+                                            Your affectionate uncle,
+                                            JOHN MONTFORT."
+
+"Well, I never!" cried Peggy, drawing a long breath. "Why, it's word for
+word like my note."
+
+"And like mine!" said Margaret.
+
+The three notes were laid side by side, and proved to be exactly alike,
+even to the brief flourish under the signature; with the one difference
+that in Margaret's the words "and that of your father," were omitted.
+
+"He must be a very methodical man!" said Margaret thoughtfully. "Isn't
+it strange that none of us has ever seen him? And yet one can understand
+how it has been. The other brothers, our fathers, left home when they
+were quite young,--that is what Papa has told me,--and soon formed ties
+elsewhere. Uncle John stayed with Grandfather till he died; then he went
+abroad, and was gone many years; and since he came back, he has lived
+here alone. I suppose he has grown a recluse, and does not care to see
+people. I know Papa often and often begged him to come and make us a
+visit, and once or twice the time was actually set; but each time
+something happened to prevent his coming, and he never did come. I think
+he would have come last year, when dear Papa died, but he had had some
+accident, and had injured his foot so that he could not walk."
+
+"Pa read us the letter you wrote him then," said Peggy, with an awkward
+attempt at condolence. "He said he thought you must be a nice girl."
+
+The tears came quickly to Margaret's eyes, and she turned her head to
+hide them. Peggy instantly plunged into a description of her nine
+brothers and sisters, and their life on the great Western farm where
+they lived; but she was hardly under way when the demure Susan tapped at
+the door, and said with gentle firmness that she had come to show the
+young ladies their rooms.
+
+There was a sudden clutching of hats, cloaks, and bags, and the next
+moment the three maidens were ascending the wide staircase, casting
+looks of curiosity and wonderment about them.
+
+"What beautiful twisted balusters!" whispered Margaret.
+
+"And such queer old pictures!" said Peggy. "My! How they stare!
+Wondering who we are, I suppose."
+
+Arrived in the wide upper hall, Susan threw open the doors of three
+rooms, two side by side, the third opposite.
+
+"This is yours, Miss Montfort," she said. "This is the young lady's from
+the South, and this the other young lady's. Mr. Montfort arranged it all
+before he left."
+
+"How kind and thoughtful!" cried Margaret.
+
+"How precise and formal!" murmured Rita.
+
+Peggy said nothing, but stared with round eyes. These rooms were not
+like the great whitewashed chamber at home, where she and her three
+sisters slept in iron bedsteads. These rooms were not large, but oh, so
+pretty and cosy! In each was an open fireplace, with a tiny fire
+burning,--"just for looks," Susan explained. Each contained a pretty
+brass bedstead, a comfortable chair or two, and curtains and cushions of
+flowered chintz. Rita's chintz showed deep red poppies on a pale buff
+ground; Peggy's was blue, with buttercups and daisies scattered over
+it; while Margaret's--oh, Margaret's was not chintz after all, but
+old-fashioned white dimity, with a bewilderment of tufts, and
+ball-fringe, and tassels. Candles were lighted on the trim
+dressing-tables; everything was spotless, fresh, and inviting, and the
+three tired girls sank each into her soft-cushioned easy chair with a
+delightful sense of being at home.
+
+"The tea-bell will ring in half an hour, if you please," said Susan, and
+she closed the three doors.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+FIRST THOUGHTS.
+
+
+    "The eggs and the ham,
+    And the strawberry jam;
+    The rollicking bun,
+    And the gay Sally Lunn."
+
+"Ting! ting-a-ling!" the silver tinkle sounded cheerfully. Margaret was
+the first to leave her room, punctuality being the third virtue of her
+creed. She had changed her travelling-dress for a pretty dark red
+cashmere, which became her well; but Peggy, who came running down a
+moment later, still wore her ill-fitting frock of green flannel, the
+scant attractions of which were not enhanced by a soiled linen collar,
+which she had forgotten to change. The flyaway locks were indeed braided
+together, but the heavy braid was rough and uneven.
+
+"Oh, you have changed your dress!" she cried, seeing Margaret. "How
+pretty you look! I didn't have time to do anything. Say," she added,
+lowering her voice, "I think you are sweet, but I just hate that other
+girl. _We_ sha'n't be fond of each other, you may be sure of that!"
+
+"My dear Peggy!" said Margaret, in gentle remonstrance. "You must not
+judge a person on ten minutes' acquaintance. I am sure I hope you and
+Rita will be very good friends. You certainly must admire her beauty."
+
+"Oh, she's pretty enough!" rejoined Peggy; "but I think she's perfectly
+horrid!--there now! Stuck-up and conceited, and looking at other people
+as if they were stone posts. And I am _not_ a stone post, you know."
+
+"You certainly don't look like one," said Margaret, laughing; "nor feel
+like one," she added, putting her arm around her cousin's plump waist.
+
+"But come! here is Elizabeth waiting to show us the dining-room.
+Elizabeth, we have had a good rest, and we are _so_ hungry."
+
+"This way, miss, if you please," said the grave Elizabeth. And she led
+the way across the hall. The dining-room was a pleasant square room,
+with crimson curtains closely drawn. There was no cloth on the dark
+table, which shone like a mirror, reflecting the blaze of the candles in
+mellow points of light. At the head stood a shining silver tea-service
+and a Dresden chocolate-pot, surrounded by the prettiest cups and
+saucers that ever were seen; and a supper was laid out which seemed to
+have been specially planned for three hungry girls. Everything good, and
+plenty of it.
+
+"My!" whispered Peggy, "isn't this fine? But how funny to have no
+table-cloth! We always have a red one at supper."
+
+"Do you?" said Margaret. "Papa always liked the bare table."
+
+"Will you take the head of the table, miss?" asked Elizabeth. "I have
+set your place here, and Miss--"
+
+"Miss Peggy's," suggested Margaret gently.
+
+"Thank you, miss! Miss Peggy's at the side here."
+
+"Very well," said Margaret. "We shall sit just where you put us,
+Elizabeth. And Miss Rita will sit opposite me and carve the chicken. Oh,
+here she is! Rita, are you accomplished in the art of carving?"
+
+Rita, who now came gliding in, shook her head as she took the seat
+appointed her. "I have never attempted it," she said, "and don't think I
+care to try, thanks! Take this to the sideboard and carve it," she
+added, addressing Elizabeth in a tone of careless command. The woman
+obeyed in silence; but the quick colour sprang to Margaret's cheek, and
+she looked as much distressed as if the rude speech had been addressed
+to her.
+
+Peggy stared. "Don't they say 'please' in Havana?" she said in a loud
+whisper to Margaret. But Margaret rattled the tea-cups, and pretended
+not to hear.
+
+"Will you take tea, Rita, or chocolate?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Chocolate, please," replied her cousin languidly. "I wonder if it will
+be fit to drink? One hears that everything of that sort is so
+frightfully adulterated in this country."
+
+"It looks delicious," said Margaret, pouring out the smooth, brown
+liquid. "Do you see, girls, what lovely cups these are? Look, Rita, they
+are all different! I shall give you this delicate pink one, for it just
+matches your gown. Such a pretty gown!" she added admiringly, glancing
+at the pale rose-coloured silk and rich lace that set off the clear
+pallor of Rita's complexion in a wonderful way.
+
+"It is only a tea-gown!" said the latter carelessly. "I have brought no
+clothes to speak of. Yes, the cup does match it rather well, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"And you, Peggy," said Margaret, "shall have this blue darling with the
+gold arabesques. Surely, anything would taste good out of such
+cups,--take care! Oh, my dear!"
+
+Margaret sprang up and tried to recapture the cup which had just left
+her hand. But it was too late! Peggy had taken it quickly, grasping the
+edge of the saucer. Naturally, the saucer tilted up, the cup tilted
+over, and a stream of chocolate poured over her hand and arm, and
+descended into her lap, where it formed a neat brown pool with green
+flannel banks. Moreover, an auxiliary stream was meandering over the
+table, making rapid progress towards the rose-coloured silk and white
+lace.
+
+With an angry exclamation of _"Bete!"_ Rita pushed her chair back out of
+danger. Poor Peggy, after the first terrified "Ow!" as the hot
+chocolate deluged her, sat still, apparently afraid of making matters
+worse if she stirred. Margaret, after ringing the bell violently to call
+Elizabeth, promptly checked the threatening rivulet on the table with
+her napkin, and then, seizing Peggy's, proceeded to sop up the pool as
+well as she could.
+
+"I never!" gasped the unhappy girl. "Why, I didn't do a thing! it just
+tipped right over!"
+
+"It is too bad!" said Margaret, as sympathetically as she could, though
+her cousin did look so funny, it was hard to keep from smiling. "Oh,
+here is Elizabeth! Elizabeth, we have had an accident, and I fear Miss
+Peggy's dress is quite ruined. Can you think of anything to take the
+stains out?"
+
+Elizabeth surveyed the scene with a practised eye.
+
+"Hot soapsuds will be the best thing," she said. "If the young lady will
+come up with me at once, and take the frock off, I will see what can be
+done."
+
+"Yes, do go with Elizabeth, dear!" urged Margaret. "Nothing can be done
+till the dress is off."
+
+And poor Peggy went off, hanging her head and looking very miserable.
+
+Rita, as soon as her dress was out of danger, was able to see the affair
+in another light, and as her cousin left the room burst into a peal of
+silvery laughter.
+
+"Oh, hush!" cried Margaret. "She will hear you, Rita!"
+
+"And if she does?" replied Rita, drawing her chair up to the table
+again, and sipping her chocolate leisurely. "Acrobats expect to be
+laughed at, and certainly this was a most astonishing _tour de force_.
+Seriously, my dear," she added, seeing Margaret's troubled look, "how
+are we to take our Western cousin, if we do not treat her as a comic
+monstrosity? Is it possible that she is a Montfort? I shall call her
+Cousin Calibana, I think!"
+
+She nibbled daintily at a macaroon, and went on: "It is a thing to be
+thankful for that the green frock is probably hopelessly ruined. I am
+quite sure it would have affected my nerves seriously if I had been
+obliged to see it every day. Do they perhaps cut dresses with a
+mowing-machine in the West?" and she laughed again, a laugh so rippling
+and musical that it was a pity it was not good-natured.
+
+Margaret listened in troubled silence. What could she say that would not
+at once alienate this foreign cousin, who seemed now inclined to
+friendliness with her? And yet she could not let poor Peggy go
+undefended. At last she said gently, yet with meaning, "Dear Rita, you
+make me tremble for myself. If you are so very severe in your judgments,
+who can hope to pass uncriticised?"
+
+"You, _ma cousine_!" cried Rita. "But there is no question of you; you
+are of one's own kind! You are altogether charming. Surely you must see
+that this young person is simply impossible. Impossible!" she repeated
+with decision. "There is no other word for it."
+
+"No," said Margaret, bravely, "I do not see that, Rita! She is shy and
+awkward, and I should think very young for her age. But she has an
+honest, good face, and I like her. Besides," she added, unconsciously
+repeating the argument she had used in defending Rita herself against
+Peggy's animadversions, "it is absurd to judge a person on half an
+hour's acquaintance."
+
+"Oh, half an hour!" said Rita lightly; "half a lifetime! My judgments,
+_chere cousine_, are made at the first glance, and remain fixed."
+
+"And are they always right?" asked Margaret, half amused and half vexed.
+
+"They are right for me!" said Rita, nodding her pretty head. "That is
+enough."
+
+She pushed her chair back, and coming to Margaret's side, laid her hand
+lightly on her shoulder.
+
+"_Chere cousine_," she said, in a caressing tone, "you are so charming,
+I do hope you are not good. It is detestable to be good! Avoid it, _tres
+chere_! believe me, it is impossible!"
+
+"Are all the people in Havana bad?" asked Margaret, returning the
+caress, and resisting the impulse to shake the pretty, foolish speaker.
+
+"All!" replied Rita cheerfully; "enchanting, delightful people; all bad!
+Oh, of course when one is old, that is another matter! Then one
+begins--"
+
+"Was your mother bad, Rita?" asked Margaret quietly.
+
+"My mother was an angel, do you hear? a saint!" cried the girl. And
+suddenly, without the slightest warning, she burst into a tropical
+passion of tears, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would break.
+
+Poor Margaret! Decidedly this was not a pleasant evening for her. By the
+time she had soothed Rita, and tucked her up on the library sofa, with a
+fan and a vinaigrette, Peggy had come down again, in a state of
+aggrieved dejection, to finish her supper. A wrapper of dingy brown
+replaced the green frock; she too had been crying, and her eyes were red
+and swollen.
+
+"I wish I was at home!" she said sullenly, as she ate her chicken and
+buttered her roll. "I wish I hadn't come here. I knew I should have a
+horrid time, but Pa made me come."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, Peggy, dear!" said Margaret. "You are tired
+to-night, and homesick, that is all; and it was very unlucky about the
+dress, of course. To-morrow, when you have had a good night's rest, you
+will feel very differently, I know you will. Just think how delightful
+it will be to explore the house, and to roam about the garden, where
+your father and mine used to play when they were boys. Hasn't your
+father told you about the swing under the great chestnut-trees, and the
+summer-houses, and--"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Peggy, her eyes brightening. "And I was to look in the
+long summer-house for his initials, cut in the roof. Uncle Roger stood
+on Uncle John's shoulders, and Pa on his; and when he was finishing the
+tail of the M, Pa gave such a dig with his knife that he lost his
+balance, and they all tumbled down together; and Pa has the mark of the
+fall now, on his forehead."
+
+Margaret felt that the bad moment had passed.
+
+"Tell me about your father, and all of you at home," she said. "Think! I
+have never even seen a picture of Uncle James! He is tall, of course;
+all the Montforts are tall."
+
+"Miles tall," said Peggy; "with broad shoulders, and a big brown beard.
+So jolly, Pa is! He is out on the farm all day, you know, and in the
+evening he sits in the corner and smokes his pipe, and the boys tell him
+what they have been doing, and they talk crops and cattle and pigs by
+the hour together."
+
+"The boys?" inquired Margaret. "Your brothers?"
+
+Peggy nodded, and began to count on her fingers.
+
+"Jim, George, Hugh, Max, and Peter, boys; Peggy, Jean, Bessie, Flora,
+and Doris, girls. Oh, dear! I wish they were all here!"
+
+"Ten whole cousins!" cried Margaret. "How rich I feel! Now you must tell
+me all about them, Peggy. Is Jim the eldest?"
+
+"Eldest and biggest!" replied Peggy, beginning on the frosted cake. "Jim
+is twenty-five, and taller than Pa,--six feet four in his shoes. He has
+charge of the stock, and spends most of his time on horseback. His horse
+is nearly as big as an elephant, and he rides splendidly. I think you
+would like Jim," she said shyly.
+
+"I am sure I should!" said Margaret heartily. "Who comes next?"
+
+"George," said Peggy. "George isn't very nice, I think; I don't believe
+you'd like him. He has been to college, you know, and he sneers and
+makes fun of the rest of us, and calls us countrified."
+
+Margaret was sure that she should not like George, but she did not say
+so. "He's very clever," continued Peggy, "and Pa is very proud of him. I
+s'pose I might like him better if he didn't tease Hugh, but I can't
+stand that."
+
+"Is Hugh your favourite brother?" Margaret asked softly.
+
+"Of course. Hugh is the best of us all. He is lame. Jim and George were
+fighting one day, when he was a little baby, just beginning to walk; and
+somehow, one of them fell back against him and threw him downstairs. He
+hurt his back, and has been lame ever since. Hugh is like an angel,
+somehow. You never saw anybody like Hugh. He does things--well! Let me
+tell you this that he did. He never gets into rows, but the rest of us
+do, all the time. Jim and George are the worst, and when they are at it,
+you can hear them all over the house. Well, one day Hugh was sick
+upstairs, and they had an awful row. Pa was out, and Ma couldn't do
+anything with them; she never can. Hugh can generally stop them, but
+this time he couldn't go down, you see. I was sitting with him, and I
+saw him getting whiter and whiter. At last he said, 'Peggy, I want
+you--' and then he stopped and said, 'No, you are too big. Bring little
+Peter here!' I went and brought Peter, who was about four then. 'Petie,'
+said Hugh, 'take brother's crutch, and go downstairs, and give it to
+Brother Jim and Brother George. Say Hugh sent it.' And then he told me
+to help Petie down with the crutch, but not go into the room. I did peep
+in through the crack, though, and I saw Petie toddle in, dragging the
+crutch, and saw him lay it down between them, and say, 'Brudder Hugh
+send it to big brudders.' They stopped and never said another word, only
+Jim gave a kind of groan. Then he kissed Petie and told him to thank
+Brother Hugh; and he went out, and didn't come back for three days. He
+rides off when he feels bad, and stays away on the farm somewhere till
+he gets over it."
+
+"And George?" asked Margaret.
+
+"Oh! George just went into his room and sulked," said Peggy. "That's
+_his_ way! I do declare, he's like--" Here she stopped suddenly, for a
+vision appeared in the doorway. Pale and scornful, with her great dark
+eyes full of cold mockery, Rita stood gazing at them both, her
+rose-coloured draperies floating around her.
+
+"I am truly sorry," she said, "to interrupt this torrent of eloquence. I
+merely wish to say that I am going to bed. Good night, _chere
+Marguerite! Senorita Calibana, je vous souhaite le bon soir!_ Continue,
+I pray you, your thrilling disclosures as long as my cousin's ears can
+contain them!" And with a mocking courtesy she swept away, leaving the
+other two girls with an indefinable sense of guilt and disgrace. Poor
+Peggy! She had been so happy, all her troubles forgotten, pouring out
+her artless recital of home affairs; but now her face darkened, and she
+looked sullen and unhappy again.
+
+"Hateful thing!" she muttered. "I wish she was in Jericho!"
+
+"Never mind, Peggy dear!" said Margaret as cheerfully as she could.
+"Rita is very tired, and has a headache. It has been delightful to hear
+about the brothers, and especially about Hugh; but I am sure we ought to
+go to bed too. You must be quite tired out, and I am getting sleepy
+myself."
+
+She kissed her cousin affectionately, and arm in arm they went up the
+great staircase.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE WHITE LADY OF FERNLEY.
+
+
+Margaret was waked the next morning by the cheerful and persistent song
+of a robin, which had perched on a twig just outside her window. She had
+gone to bed in a discouraged frame of mind, and dreamed that her two
+cousins had turned into lionesses, and were fighting together over her
+prostrate body; but with the morning light everything seemed to
+brighten, and the robin's song was a good omen.
+
+"Thank you, Robin dear," she said aloud, as she brushed her long hair.
+"I dare say everything will go well after a while, but just now, Robin,
+I do assure you, things have a kittle look."
+
+She was down first, as the night before; but Peggy soon appeared,
+rubbing her eyes and looking still half asleep.
+
+Breakfast was ready, and Peggy, at sight of the omelette and muffins,
+was about to fling herself headlong into her chair; but Margaret held
+her back a moment.
+
+"Elizabeth," she said, hesitating, "is Mrs. Cheriton--is she not here? I
+see you have put me at the head of the table again."
+
+"Mrs. Cheriton seldom leaves her own rooms, miss," replied Elizabeth.
+"She asked me to say that she would be glad to see the young ladies
+after breakfast. And shall I call the other young lady, Miss Montfort?"
+
+Before Margaret could reply, a clear voice was heard calling from above,
+in impatient tones:
+
+"Elizabeth! somebody! come here this moment!"
+
+Elizabeth obeyed the imperious summons, and as she reached the foot of
+the stairs, Rita's voice broke out again.
+
+"Why has no coffee been brought to me? I never saw such carelessness.
+There is no bell in my room, either, and I have been calling till I am
+hoarse."
+
+"I am very sorry, miss!" replied Elizabeth quietly. "We supposed you
+would come down to breakfast with the other young ladies. Shall I bring
+you a cup of tea now? There is no coffee in the house, as Mr. Montfort
+never drinks it."
+
+"_No coffee!_" cried Rita. "I _have_ come to a wilderness! Well--bring
+the tea! and have it strong, do you hear?" And the young Cuban swept
+back into her room, and shut the door with more vehemence than good
+breeding strictly allowed.
+
+Margaret listened in distressed silence to this colloquy. Peggy giggled
+and chuckled. "Aha!" she said, "I'm so glad she didn't get the coffee.
+Greedy thing! Please hand me the muffins, Margaret. How small they are!
+The idea of her having her breakfast in bed!" and Peggy sniffed, and
+helped herself largely to marmalade.
+
+"Perhaps her head aches still," said peace-loving Margaret.
+
+"Don't believe a word of it!" cried Peggy. "She's used to being waited
+on by darkeys, and she thinks it will be just the same here. That's
+all!"
+
+Margaret thought this was probably true, but she did not say so,
+preferring the safer remark that it was a delightful day.
+
+"When you have finished your breakfast," she said, "we will go out into
+the garden. I can see a bit of it from here, and it looks lovely. Oh! I
+can just catch a glimpse of the swing. I wonder if it is the same old
+one. I love to swing, don't you?"
+
+"I like shinning better!" said Peggy, putting half a muffin in her
+mouth. "Can you shin?"
+
+"Shin! what--oh! up a tree, you mean. I'm afraid not."
+
+"I can!" said Peggy triumphantly. "I can beat most of the boys at it,
+only Ma won't let me do it, on account of my clothes. Says I'm too old,
+too; bother! I'm not going to be a primmy, just because I am fifteen.
+How old are you, Margaret?"
+
+"Seventeen; and as two years make a great difference, you know, Peggy, I
+shall put on all the airs of an elder sister. You know the Elder
+Sister's part,--
+
+        "Good advice and counsel sage,
+    And 'I never did so when I was your age!'"
+
+"All right!" said Peggy. "I'll call you elder sister. Ma always says I
+ought to have had one, instead of being one."
+
+"Well, first comes something that we must both do; that is, go and see
+Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your
+necktie for you."
+
+Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie
+round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be
+coaxed a little--or not so very little!--and then--
+
+"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked!
+Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to
+be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."
+
+By this time Margaret had rebuttoned the dress, with a sigh over the
+fact that the buttons did not match it, and that one sleeve was put in
+wrong. Now she declared that they must go without more delay, and
+Elizabeth came to show them the way.
+
+Peggy hung back, muttering that she never knew what to say to strangers;
+but Margaret took her hand firmly, and drew her along.
+
+Perhaps Margaret may have felt a little nervous herself about this
+strange lady, who never left her rooms, and yet was to entertain and
+care for them, as her uncle's note had said. Both girls followed in
+silence, as Elizabeth led them through the hall, past a door, then down
+three steps and along a little passage to another door, at which she
+knocked.
+
+"Come in!" said a pleasant voice. Elizabeth opened the door and motioned
+the girls to enter.
+
+"The young ladies, ma'am!" she said; and then shut the door and went
+away.
+
+The sudden change from the dark passage to the white room was dazzling.
+It was a small room, and it seemed to be all white: walls, floor
+(covered with a white India matting), furniture, and all. The strange
+lady sat in a great white armchair. She wore a gown of soft white
+cashmere, and her hair, and her cap, her hands, and her face, were all
+different shades of white, each softer than the other. Only her eyes
+were brown; and as she looked kindly at the girls and smiled, they
+thought they had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.
+
+"Why, children," she said; "do you think I am a ghost? Come here, dears,
+and let me look at you! I am real, I assure you." She laughed, the
+softest little laugh, hardly more than a rustle, and held out her hand.
+Margaret came forward at once, still dragging Peggy after her,--Peggy,
+whose eyes were so wide open, it looked as if she might never be able to
+shut them again.
+
+Mrs. Cheriton took a hand of each, and looked earnestly from one to the
+other.
+
+"How are you called?" she asked. "I know that you have the same name."
+
+"We thought I had better be Margaret," was the timid reply from the girl
+who was able to speak, "and this is Peggy."
+
+"I see!" said the old lady, putting her hand on Peggy's flaxen mane.
+"You look like Peggy, little one! I used to call my sister Peggy. And
+where is the third Margaret?"
+
+"She has not come down yet; she had a headache last night," said
+Margaret, losing all shyness before the kindly glance of those soft
+brown eyes. "She is called Rita, and she is very beautiful."
+
+[Illustration: AUNT FAITH'S ROOM.]
+
+"That is pleasant!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "I like pretty people, when they
+are good as well. You are a Montfort, Margaret! You have the Montfort
+mouth, and chin; but this child must look like her mother." Peggy
+nodded, but could not yet find speech.
+
+"And now," the old lady went on, "I am sure you are longing to know who
+I am, and why I live here by myself, like an old fairy godmother. Sit
+down, my dears, and be comfortable! Here, Margaret, the little
+rocking-chair is pleasant; Peggy, child, take the footstool! So! now you
+look more at home.
+
+"Well, children, the truth is, I am very old. When my next birthday
+comes, I shall be ninety years old; a very great age, my dears! Your
+grandfather was my cousin; and when, five years ago, I was left alone in
+the world by the death of my dear only son, John Montfort, your uncle,
+like the good lad he is, found me out and brought me home with him to
+live. He is my godson, and I loved him very much when he was a little
+child; so now, when I am old and helpless, he makes return by loving
+me."
+
+She paused to wipe her eyes; then went on.
+
+"When one is nearly ninety years old, one does not care to move about
+much, even if one is perfectly well, as I am. John knew this (he knows
+a great deal), and he fitted up these pleasant rooms, in the warmest and
+quietest corner of the house, and here he put me, with my little maid,
+and my books, and my cat, and my parrot; and here I live, my dears, very
+cheerfully and happily. On pleasant days I go out in my garden, and sit
+under the trees. Look out of the window, girls, and see my green
+parlour. Is it not pretty?"
+
+The girls knelt on the broad window-seat, and looked out. Before them
+was a square, grassy place, smooth and green as an emerald. The house
+enclosed it on two sides; the other two were screened by a hedge of
+Norway fir, twenty feet high, and solid as a wall. Over this the
+sunbeams poured in, flecking the green with gold. In one corner stood a
+laburnum-tree, covered with yellow blossoms; under a tall elm near by
+was a rustic seat.
+
+"How do you like my kingdom?" asked the old lady, smiling at their eager
+faces.
+
+"It is like a fairy place!" said Margaret. "You are quite sure you are
+real, Mrs. Cheriton?" They smiled at each other, feeling friends
+already.
+
+"'Mrs. Cheriton' will never do, if we are to see each other every day,
+as I hope we are. How would you like to call me Aunt Faith?"
+
+"Oh, the lovely name!" cried Margaret. "Thank you so much! Now we really
+belong to some one, and we shall not feel strange any more; shall we,
+Peggy?"
+
+"I--s'pose not!" stammered Peggy. "I shall like it ever so much."
+
+The girls sat a little longer, chatting and listening. Mrs. Cheriton
+told them of her parrot, who was old too, and who spoke Spanish and
+French, and did not like English; she showed them her books, many of
+which were bound in white vellum or parchment. "It is a fancy of
+John's," she said, "to have all my belongings white. I think he still
+remembers his Aunt Phoebe. Do you know about your Great-aunt Phoebe?"
+
+The girls said no, and begged to hear, but Mrs. Cheriton said that must
+be for another time.
+
+"I must not keep you too long," she said, "for I want you to come often.
+I will call Janet, and she shall show you the way through my green
+parlour to the garden. The Fernley garden is the pleasantest in the
+world, I think."
+
+She touched the bell, and told the pretty rosy-cheeked maid who appeared
+to take the young ladies by the back way, and introduce them to
+Chiquito; and they took their leave regretfully, begging that they might
+come every day to the white chamber.
+
+Chiquito's cage hung in the porch, and Chiquito was hanging in it upside
+down. He swore frightfully at the sight of strangers, and bit Peggy's
+finger when she tried to stroke him; but at a word from Janet he was
+quiet, and said, "_Me gustan todas!_" in a plaintive tone, with his head
+on one side.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Peggy. "He's horrid, isn't he?"
+
+Janet's feeling were hurt. "He doesn't mean it!" she said. "And he
+always wants to be pleasant when he says that. Something out of a
+Spanish song, Mrs. Cheriton says it is, and means that he likes folks.
+You do like folks when they like you, don't you, poor Chico?"
+
+"_En general!_" said the bird, cocking his yellow eye at Peggy. "_Me
+gustan todas en general!_"
+
+"Well, I never!" said Peggy. "I think he's a witch, Margaret."
+
+They went through a low door cut in the green wall, and found themselves
+in the great shady garden, a place of wonder and mystery. The trees and
+plants had been growing for two hundred years, ever since James Montfort
+had left the court of Charles II. in disgust, and come out to build his
+home and make his garden in the new country, where freedom waited for
+her children.
+
+The great oaks and elms and chestnuts were green with moss and hoary
+with lichens, but the flower-beds lay out in broad sunshine, and here
+were no signs of age, only of careful tending and renewal. Margaret was
+enchanted with the flowers, for her home had been in a town, and she
+knew little of country joys. Peggy glanced carelessly at the geraniums
+and heliotropes, and told Margaret that she should see a field of
+poppies in bloom.
+
+They came across the gardener, who straightened himself at sight of
+them, and greeted them with grave politeness. He was a tall, strongly
+made man, with, grizzled hair and bright, dark eyes.
+
+"May we pick a few flowers?" asked Margaret in her pleasant way.
+
+"Surely, miss; any, and all you like, except these beds of young slips
+here, which I am nursing carefully. I hope you will be often in the
+garden, young ladies!" and he saluted again, in military fashion, as the
+girls walked away.
+
+"What a remarkable-looking man!" said Margaret. "I wonder if I can have
+seen him anywhere. There is something about his face--"
+
+"Oh, there is the swing!" cried Peggy. "Come along, Margaret; I'll race
+you to that big chestnut-tree!" and away flew the two girls over the
+smooth green turf.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+"What are you doing, _tres chere_?" asked Rita, suddenly appearing at
+Margaret's door. "How is it you pass your time so cheerfully? how to
+live, in this deplorable solitude? You see me fading away, positively a
+shadow, in this hideous solitude!"
+
+Margaret looked up cheerfully from her work.
+
+"Come in, daughter of despair!" she said. And Rita came in and flung
+herself on the sofa with a tragic air.
+
+"You are doing--what?" she demanded.
+
+"I have rather a hopeless task, I fear," said Margaret. "Peggy's hat!
+She dropped it into the pond yesterday, and I am trying to smarten it up
+a little, poor thing! What do you advise, Rita? I am sure you have
+clever fingers, you embroider so beautifully."
+
+"I should advise the fire," said Rita, looking with scorn at the
+battered hat. "Put it in now, this moment. It will burn well, and it can
+do nothing else decently."
+
+"Ten miles from a shop," said Margaret, "and nothing else save her best
+hat. No, my lady, we cannot be so extravagant. If you will not help me,
+I must e'en do the best I can. I never could understand hats!" she added
+ruefully.
+
+"_Why_ do you do these things?" Rita asked, sitting up as suddenly as
+she had flung herself down. "Will you tell me why? I love you! I have
+told you twenty times of it; but I cannot understand why you do these
+things for that young monster. Will you tell me why?"
+
+"In the first place, she is not a monster, and I will not have you say
+such things, Rita. In the second place, I am very fond of her; and in
+the third, I should try to help her all I could, even if I were not fond
+of her."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it is a duty."
+
+"Duty?" Rita laughed, and made a pretty little grimace. "English word,
+ugly and stupid word! I know not its meaning. You are fond of Calibana?
+Then I revere less your taste, that is all. Ah! what do you make there?
+That cannot be; it cuts the soul!"
+
+She took the hat hastily from Margaret's hand. Had the latter been a
+little overclumsy on purpose? Certainly her dimple deepened a little as
+she relinquished the forlorn object. Rita held it on her finger and
+twirled it around.
+
+"The fire is really the only place for it," she said again; "but if it
+must be preserved, do you not see that the only possible thing is to
+turn this ribbon? It was not wet through; the other side is fresh."
+
+She still frowned at the hat, but her fingers began to move here and
+there, twisting and turning in a magical way. In five minutes the hat
+was a different object, and Margaret gave a little cry of pleasure.
+
+"Rita, you are a dear! Why, it looks better than it did before the
+wetting, ever and ever so much better! Thank you, you clever creature! I
+shall bring all my hats to you for treatment, and I am sure Peggy will
+be so much obliged when I tell her--"
+
+"If you dare!" cried Rita. "You will do nothing of the sort, I beg, _ma
+cousine_. What I have done, was done for you; I desire neither thanks
+nor any other thing from La Calibana. That she remain out of my sight
+when possible, that she hold her tongue when we must be together,--that
+is all I demand. Reasonable, I hope? If not--" She shrugged her
+shoulders and began to hum a love-song.
+
+Margaret sighed. "If you could only see, my dear," she began gently,
+"how much happier we should all be, if you and Peggy could only make up
+your minds to make the best of it--"
+
+"The best!" cried Rita, flashing into another mood, and coming to hover
+over her quiet cousin like a bird of paradise. "Do I not make the best?
+You are the best, Marguerite. I make all I can of you--except a
+milliner; never could I do that."
+
+"Listen!" she added, dropping on the floor by Margaret's side. "You see
+me happy to-day, do you not? I do not frown or pout,--I can't see why I
+should not, when I feel black,--but to-day is a white day. And why? Can
+you guess?"
+
+Margaret shook her head discreetly.
+
+"I cannot do more than guess," she said, "but you seemed very much
+pleased with the letter that came this morning."
+
+Rita flung her arms round her. "Aha!" she cried. "We perceive! We drop
+our dove's eyes; we look more demure than any mouse, but we perceive!
+Ah! Marguerite, behold me about to give you the strongest proof of my
+love: I confide in you."
+
+She drew a bulky letter from her pocket. Margaret looked at it
+apprehensively, fearing she knew not what.
+
+"From my friend," Rita explained, spreading the sheets of thin blue
+paper, crossed and recrossed, on her lap; "my Conchita, the other half
+of my soul. You shall hear part of it, Marguerite, but other parts are
+too sacred. She begins so beautifully: '_Mi alma_'--but you have no
+Spanish yet; the pity, to turn it into cold English! 'My soul' has a
+foolish sound. 'Saint Rosalie, Saint Eulalie, and the blessed Saint
+Teresa, have you in their holy keeping! I live the life of a withered
+leaf without you; my soul flies like a mourning bird to your frozen
+North, where you are immured'--oh, it doesn't sound a bit right! I
+cannot read it in English." Indeed, Margaret thought it sounded too
+silly for her beloved language, but she said nothing, only giving a
+glance of sympathetic interest.
+
+"She tells me of all they are doing," Rita went on. "All day they sit in
+the closed rooms, as the sun is too hot for going out; but in the
+evening they drive, and Conchita has been allowed to ride on horseback.
+Fancy, what bliss! Fernando was with her!"
+
+Rita stopped suddenly, and Margaret, feeling that she must say
+something, echoed, "Fernando?"
+
+"Her brother," said Rita, and she cast down her eyes. "Also a friend of
+mine,--a cousin on my mother's side; the handsomest person in Havana,
+the most enchanting, the most distinguished! He sends me messages,--no
+matter about those; but think of this: he is leaving Havana, he is
+coming to New York, he will be in this country! Marguerite! think of
+it!"
+
+"What shall I think of it?" asked Margaret, raising her eyes to her
+cousin's; the gray eyes were cool and tranquil, but the dark ones were
+full of fire and light.
+
+"Is he a friend of your father's, too, Rita?"
+
+Rita's face darkened. "My father!" she cried impatiently. "My father is
+a knight of the middle ages; he demands the stiff behaviour of fifty in
+a youth of twenty-one. He, who has forgotten what youth is!" She was
+silent for a moment, but the shadow remained on her beautiful face.
+
+"After all, it is no matter," she said, rising abruptly; "I was
+mistaken, Marguerite. The letter is for me alone; you would not care for
+it,--perhaps not understand it. You, too, have the cold Northern blood.
+Forget what I have said."
+
+"Oh, but, my dear," cried Margaret, fearful of losing her slight hold on
+this creature of moods, "don't be so unkind! I want to know why they
+must sit in the house all day, and what they do from morning till night.
+I have always longed to know about the life you live at home. Be good
+now, wild bird, and perch again."
+
+Rita wavered, but when Margaret laid her cool, firm hand on hers, she
+sank down again, though she still looked dissatisfied.
+
+"We sit in the house," she said, "of course, in the heats,--what else
+could we do? Only at night is it possible to go out. No, we do not read
+much. It is too hot to read, and Cuban women do not care for books; oh,
+a romance now and then; but for great, horrible books like those you
+_raffole_ about downstairs there,--" she shook her shoulders as if
+shaking off a heavy weight. "We sew a great deal, embroider, do
+lace-work like that you admired. Then at noon we sleep as long as
+possible, and in the evening we go out to walk, drive, ride. To walk in
+the orange-groves by moonlight,--ah! that is heaven! One night last
+month we slipped out, Conchita and I, and--you must never breathe this,
+Marguerite--and met my brother and Fernando beneath the great
+orange-tree in the south grove--"
+
+"Your brother!" exclaimed Margaret. "You never told me you had a
+brother, Rita!"
+
+"Hush! I have so much the habit of silence about him. He is with the
+army. My father is a Spaniard. Carlos and I are Cubans." Her eyes
+flashed, and she looked like the spirit of battle.
+
+"My father will not hear him named!" she cried. "He would have Cuba
+continue a slave, she, who will be the queen and goddess of the sea when
+the war is over! Ah, Marguerite! my heart is on flame when I speak of my
+country. Well,--we met them there. They are both with the army, the
+insurgents, as the Spaniards call them. We walked up and down. The
+orange-blossoms were so sweet, the fragrance hung like clouds in the
+air. I had a lace mantilla over my head,--I will show it to you one day.
+We talked of _Cuba libre_, and they told us how they live there in the
+mountains. Ah! if a girl could fight, would I be here? No; a sword
+should be by my side, a plume in my hat, and I would be with Carlos and
+Fernando in the mountains. Well,--ah, the bad part is to come! Carlos
+had been wounded; his arm was in a sling. Folly, to make it of a white
+handkerchief! The senora--my father's wife--must have seen it shining
+among the trees; we know it must have been that, for we girls wore black
+dresses of purpose,--a woman thinks of what a man never dreams of. She
+called my father; he came out, raging. We had a fine scene. Burning
+words passed between my father and Carlos. They vowed never to see each
+other more. They went, and Conchita and I go fainting, dying, into the
+house. Three days after comes my uncle's letter,--behold me here!
+Marguerite, this is my story. Preserve it in your bosom, it is a sacred
+confidence."
+
+Margaret hardly knew whether she were in real life, or in a theatre.
+Rita's voice, though low, vibrated with passion; her eyes were liquid
+fire; her little hands clenched themselves, and she drew her breath in
+through her closed teeth with a savage sound. Then, suddenly, all was
+changed. She flung her arms apart, and burst into laughter.
+
+"Your face!" she cried. "Marguerite, your face! what a study of horror!
+You, cool stream, flowing over white sands, you have never seen a rapid,
+how much less a torrent. You, do you know what life is? My faith, I
+think not! I frighten you, my cousin."
+
+Margaret was indeed troubled as well as absorbed in all she had heard.
+What a volcano this girl was! What might she not do or say, in some
+moment of passion? This was all new to Margaret; her life had been so
+sheltered, a quiet stream indeed, till her father's death the year
+before. She had known few girls save her schoolmates, for the most part
+quiet, studious girls like herself. She had lived a great deal in books,
+and knew far more about Spain in the sixteenth century than Cuba in the
+nineteenth. What should she do? How should she learn to curb and help
+these two restless spirits, so different, yet both turning to her and
+flying in detestation from each other?
+
+Pondering thus, she made no reply for a moment; but Rita was in no mood
+to endure silence.
+
+"Statue!" she cried. "Thing of marble! I pour out my soul to you, and
+you have no words for me! And we have been here a week, a mortal,
+suffering week, and I know nothing of your life, your thought. Tell me,
+you, how you have lived, before you came here. I frighten you, I see it;
+try now if you can tame me."
+
+She laughed again, and shook all her pretty ribbons and frills. Every
+day she dressed as if for a _fete_, and took a mournful pleasure in
+reflecting how her toilets were all wasted.
+
+"How did I live?" said Margaret vaguely. "Oh, very quietly, Rita. So
+quietly, I don't think you would care to hear about my days."
+
+"I burn to hear!" cried Rita. "I perish! Continue, Marguerite."
+
+"I lived with my dear father." Margaret spoke slowly and reluctantly.
+Her memories were so precious, she could not bear to drag them out, and
+expose them to curious, perhaps unloving, eyes.
+
+"Our house was in Blankton, a tiny little house, just big enough for
+Father and me; my mother died, you know, a good many years ago, and
+Father and I have been always together. He wrote a great
+deal,--historical work,--and I helped him, and wrote for him, and read
+with him. Then--oh, I went to school, of course, and we walked every
+afternoon, and in the evening Father read aloud while I worked, and I
+played and sang for him. You see, Rita, there really is not much to
+tell."
+
+Not much! yet in the telling, the girl felt her heart beat high and
+painfully, and the sobs rise in her throat, as the dear, happy, peaceful
+days came back to her; the blessed home life, the love which hedged her
+in so that no rough wind should blow on her, the wise, kindly, loving
+companionship of him who had been father and mother both to her. The
+tears came to her eyes, and she was silent, feeling that she could not
+speak for the moment. Rita was thoughtful, too, and when she spoke
+again, it was in a softened tone.
+
+"I can picture it!" she said. "It is a picture without colour; I could
+not have borne such a life; but for you, Marguerite, so tranquil,
+demanding so little, with peace in your soul, it must have been sweet.
+And now,--after this summer here, only not horrible because in it I
+learn to know my dear Marguerite,--after this summer, what do you do?
+what is your life?"
+
+"I hope to get a position as teacher," said Margaret. "Then, when I have
+earned something, I shall go to the Library School, and learn to be a
+librarian; that has been my dream for a long time."
+
+"Your nightmare!" cried Rita. "What dreadful things even to think about,
+Marguerite! But it shall not be; never, I tell you! You shall come back
+with me to Cuba, and be my sister. I have money--oceans, I believe;
+more than I can spend, try as I will. You shall live with me; we will
+buy a plantation, orange-groves, sugar-cane,--you shall study
+cultivation, I will ride about the plantation--"
+
+"By moonlight?" asked Marguerite mischievously.
+
+"Always by moonlight!" cried Rita. "It shall be always moonlight! Carlos
+shall be our intendant, and Fernando--"
+
+"I think Fernando would much better stay in the mountains!" said
+Margaret decidedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE PEAT-BOG.
+
+
+It was a great relief to Margaret to carry her perplexities to Aunt
+Faith and talk them over. Mrs. Cheriton's mind and sympathies were as
+quick and alert as if she were still a young woman, instead of being
+near the rounding of the completed century. She listened with kindly
+interest, and her wise and tender words cleared away many of the cobwebs
+of anxiety that beset Margaret's sky.
+
+"Let patience have her perfect work!" she was fond of saying. "Neither
+of these children is to be led by precept, I think. Make your own ways,
+ways of pleasantness as well as paths of peace, and soon or late they
+will fall into them. You cannot expect to do much in a week, or two
+weeks, or three weeks. Or it may be," she would add, "that you are not
+to do it after all; it may be that other things and persons will be
+called in. The ordering is wise, but we cannot often understand it, for
+it is written in cipher. Do you only the best you can, my child, and
+keep your own head steady, and you will find the others settling into
+harness before long."
+
+"It distresses me," Margaret said, "to have Rita so rude to the
+servants. I cannot speak to her about that, I suppose; but it is really
+too bad. Elizabeth is so sensible, I am sure she understands how it all
+is; but--well, the gardener, Aunt Faith! John Strong! Why, any one can
+see that he is an uncommon man; not the least an ordinary labouring man.
+Do you know how much he knows?"
+
+Mrs. Cheriton nodded. "John Strong is a very remarkable man," she said;
+"you are right there, Margaret. And Rita is uncivil to him? Do you know,
+I should not trouble myself about that if I were you. If Elizabeth can
+understand that Rita has been brought up without learning any respect
+for the dignity of labour, John Strong will understand it twice as well,
+for he has more than twice the intelligence."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Faith! You are so comforting! He--he has been here a
+long time, has he not? I should think my uncle must have great
+confidence in him; and he has such beautiful manners!"
+
+"His manners," said Mrs. Cheriton emphatically, "are perfect." Then she
+said, changing the subject rather hastily, "And where are the two other
+girls to-day, my dear? They do not incline to come to me often, I
+perceive. It is not strange; many very young people dislike the sight of
+extreme age; you have been taught differently, my dear,--Roger Montfort
+was always a thoughtful, sensible lad, like John. No, I do not blame
+them in the least for keeping away, but I like to know what they are
+doing."
+
+"I--I don't really know, just now," and Margaret hung her head a little;
+"Peggy wanted me to go to walk with her an hour or so ago, but I was
+just reading a book that Papa had always told me about,--'The Fool of
+Quality,' you know it?--and I did not want to leave it. I ought to have
+gone; I will go now, and see where they both are. Dear Aunt Faith, thank
+you so much for letting me come and talk to you; you can't think what a
+relief it is when I am puzzled."
+
+The old lady's sweet smile lingered like a benediction with Margaret, as
+she went back to the main house, carefully closing the door that shut
+off the white rooms. Surely she had been selfish to stay indoors with a
+book, instead of going out with her cousin; but oh, the book understood
+her so much better, and was so much more companionable! Now, however,
+she would be good, and would go and see what both the cousins were
+doing. They were not together, of course; Rita was very likely asleep at
+this hour; but Peggy, what had Peggy been doing?
+
+What had Peggy been doing?
+
+She had sauntered out rather disconsolately, on Margaret's refusing to
+accompany her. She was so used to being one of a large, shouting,
+struggling family, that she felt, perhaps more than any of the three
+girls, the retirement and quiet of Fernley. She wanted to run and scream
+and make a noise, but there was no fun in doing it alone. If Jean were
+only here!
+
+She went through the garden, and found some consolation in a talk with
+John Strong, who, always the pink of courtesy, leaned on his hoe, and
+told her many valuable things concerning the late planting. Her
+questions were shrewd and intelligent, for Peggy had not lived on a farm
+for nothing, and she already knew more about the possibilities of
+Fernley than Margaret or Rita would learn in a year.
+
+"Where shall I go for a walk?" she asked, when John Strong showed signs
+of thinking about his work again. "I hate to go alone, but no one would
+come with me. I have been over the hill and into the oak woods. What is
+another nice way to go, where there will be strawberries?"
+
+John Strong considered. "About two miles from here, miss, you'll find a
+very pretty strawberry patch. Go through the oak woods and along beside
+the bog; but be careful not to step into the bog itself, for it is a
+treacherous bit."
+
+"What kind of a bog? Why don't you drain it?" asked Peggy.
+
+"It is a peat-bog," returned the gardener. "It would be a very costly
+matter to drain it, but I believe Mr. Montfort is thinking of it, miss.
+A short way beyond the woods you'll come upon the strawberry meadow; it
+is the best I know of hereabouts. Good morning, miss."
+
+Off went Peggy, swinging her hat by the ribbon, a loop of which was
+coming off, and thinking of home and of Jean, her most intimate sister.
+She loved Margaret dearly already, but one had always to be on one's
+good behaviour with her, she was so good herself. Oh, how delightful it
+would be to have Jean here, and to have a race through the woods, and
+then a good, jolly romp, and perhaps a "spat," before they settled down
+to the business of strawberry-picking! She could have spats enough with
+that horrid, spiteful Cuban girl, but there was no fun in those; just
+cold, sneering hatefulness. Thinking of her cousin Rita, Peggy gave her
+hat a twist and a fling, and sent it flying across the green meadow on
+which she was now entering.
+
+"There!" she said, "I just wish that was you, Miss Rita,--I do! I
+wouldn't help you up, either."
+
+Then, rather ashamed of her outburst, she went to pick up the hat again;
+but, setting foot on the edge of the green meadow, she drew it back
+hastily.
+
+"Aha!" said Peggy. "The peat-bog! _Now_ I've been and gone and done it!"
+
+She whistled, a long, clear whistle that would have done credit to any
+one of her brothers, and gazed ruefully at the hat, which lay out of
+reach, resting quietly on the smooth emerald velvet of the quaking bog.
+
+"Oh, bother! Now I suppose I shall have to fish the old thing out. It
+will never look fit to be seen again, and Margaret retrimmed it only the
+other day. Well, here goes!"
+
+Looking about carefully, Peggy pulled a long bulrush from a clump that
+grew at the side of the bog. Then she walked along the edge, skirting
+with care the deceitful green that looked so fair and lovely, till she
+came to where a slender birch hung its long drooping branches out over
+the bog. Clinging to one of these branches, Peggy leaned forward as far
+as she dared, and began to angle for her hat. "He rises well," she
+muttered, "but he doesn't bite worth a cent."
+
+Twice she succeeded in working the end of the bulrush through the loop
+of ribbon that perked cheerfully on the top of the hat; twice the loop
+slipped off as she raised it, and the hat dropped back. The third time,
+however, was successful, and the skilful angler had the satisfaction of
+drawing the hat toward her, and finally rescuing it from its perilous
+position. Not all of it, however; the flower, the yellow rose, once
+Peggy's pride and joy, had become loosened during the various
+unaccustomed motions of its parent hat, and now lay, lonely and lovely,
+a golden spot on the bright green grass. Peggy fished again, but this
+time in vain; and finally she was obliged to give it up, and go off
+flowerless in search of her strawberries.
+
+Meanwhile, Margaret had been searching high and low for Peggy. John
+Strong could have told her where she was, but he had gone to a distant
+part of the farm, and no one had seen the two talking together.
+
+"A search for Calibana?" said Rita, when her cousin inquired for the
+wanderer. "My faith, why? If she can remain hidden for a time,
+Marguerite, consider the boon it would be!"
+
+[Illustration: PEGGY AT THE BOG.]
+
+But Margaret turned from her impatiently, seeing which, Rita was
+jealous, and said, "I had hoped you would take a walk with me, _ma
+cousine_. I perish for air! I cannot go alone through these places,--I
+might meet a dog."
+
+Margaret could not help laughing.
+
+"I think you might," she said. "And what then?"
+
+"I should die!" said Rita simply. Then, linking her arm in her cousin's
+with her most caressing gesture, she said, "Come with me, _alma mia_. We
+walk,--very likely we find La Calibana on our way. She cannot have
+strayed far, it is too near dinner-time; and she has a clock inside her;
+you know it well, Marguerite."
+
+Margaret could not refuse the offered company, and they set out in the
+same direction that Peggy had taken. Margaret had been in the oak woods
+several times with Peggy, and thought she might very likely find her
+there; but no one answered her call; only the trees rustled, and the
+hermit-thrush called in answer, deep in some thicket far away.
+Presently, as they walked, there shot through the dark oak branches a
+sunny gleam, a flash of green and gold. They pressed forward, and in
+another moment stood on the edge of the quaking bog. But they had not
+been warned; neither had they Peggy's practised eye, which would have
+told her even without the warning that this was no safe place.
+
+"Oh, what a lovely meadow!" cried Margaret. "I always wondered what lay
+beyond these woods, but have never come so far before. Shall we cross
+it, Rita? or does it look a little damp, do you think?"
+
+"It may be damp," said Rita indifferently. "I care not for damp, _tres
+chere_. Let us cross, by all means. And look! see the golden flower;
+what can it be?"
+
+"I don't know, I am sure!" said Margaret, gazing innocently at the
+yellow muslin rose which had been under her hands only the day before.
+"It looks--I don't know what it looks like, Rita. But I am afraid the
+grass is very wet. Don't you see the wet shining through?"
+
+"Pouf!" said Rita. "Wait thou here, faint heart, while I bring the
+flower; that, at least, I must do, even if we go no further."
+
+She stepped over the grass so lightly and quickly that she had gone some
+steps before her feet began to sink in the black, oozy bog. Margaret
+saw the water bubbling up behind her, and cried to her in alarm to come
+back; and Rita, finding the earth plucking at her feet, turned willingly
+toward the solid ground; but return was impossible. She tried to lift
+her feet, but the bog held them fast, and with the effort, she felt
+herself sinking, slowly but surely.
+
+"Ah," she cried, "it is bad ground! It is a pit, Marguerite! Do not
+move, do not come near me! Run and get help!" For Margaret was already
+stepping forward with outstretched hands.
+
+"Stop where you are!" cried Rita imperiously. "Do you not see that if
+you come in, we are both lost? I tell you there is no ground here, no
+bottom! I sink, I feel it sucking me down, down! Ah, _Madre_! go,
+Marguerite, fly for help!"
+
+Poor Margaret turned in distraction. Whither should she fly? They were
+more than a mile from home. How could she leave her cousin in this
+dreadful plight? Before help could come, she might be lost indeed, drawn
+bodily under by the treacherous ooze. She turned away, but came running
+back suddenly, for she heard a sound coming from the opposite direction,
+a cheerful whistle.
+
+"Oh, Rita!" she cried; "help is near. I hear some one whistling, a boy
+or a man. Oh, help! help! Come this way, please!"
+
+The whistle changed to a cry of surprise, uttered in a familiar voice.
+The next minute, Peggy came running through the wood, her hands and face
+red with strawberry juice.
+
+Margaret could only gasp, and point to Rita, for her heart seemed to die
+within her when she saw that the newcomer was only a girl like
+herself,--only poor, awkward Peggy.
+
+They were no better off than before, save that now one could go for
+help, while the other could stay to cheer poor Rita. Rita was now deadly
+white; she had ceased to call. The black ooze had crept to her knees,
+and she no longer made any effort to extricate herself. Margaret was
+turning to run again, but Peggy stopped her. "Stand still!" she said.
+"I'll get her out."
+
+Ah, poor, awkward, ill-dressed Peggy, your hour has come now! Not for
+nothing were you brought up on a prairie, your eyes trained to
+quickness, your arms strong as steel, your wits ever on the alert where
+there is danger! Poor Peggy, this is your hour, and the haughty beauty
+and the gentle student must own you their superior.
+
+Peggy cast a keen glance around; she was looking for something. Spying a
+stout stake that had been broken off and was lying on the ground, she
+caught it up, and the next moment had thrown herself flat on her face.
+Lying flat, she began slowly and cautiously to wriggle out across the
+surface of the quaking bog. The black water seethed and bubbled under
+her; but her weight, evenly distributed, did not bear on any one spot
+heavily enough to press her down. Slowly, carefully, she worked her way
+out, while the other girls held their breath and dared not speak. Once,
+indeed, Rita moaned, and cried, "No, no, one is enough! Go back! I
+cannot let you come!"
+
+But Margaret had seen that in Peggy's eyes and mien which kept her
+silent. She stood trembling, with clasped hands, praying for both. She
+could do no more.
+
+"Lie down now, Rita!" Peggy commanded. "Lie flat, just as I am! Stretch
+out your arms,--so! Now, catch hold!"
+
+Rita obeyed to the point. It was terrible to lie down in that awful
+black slough that was to be her grave, perhaps, but she obeyed without a
+word. Stretching her arms as far as they would go, she touched the end
+of the stake,--touched, grasped, held fast; and now Peggy, still holding
+fast to her end, began to wriggle back, slowly, cautiously, moving by
+inches.
+
+"Kneel down on the edge, Margaret!" she said; "don't come over, but
+reach out and give us a haul in when you can touch. It's getting pretty
+deep here!"
+
+Margaret knelt and reached out her arms; could she touch them? Peggy was
+sinking now, but she still moved backward, dragging Rita with her; they
+were close by,--she had hold of Peggy's skirt. The stout gathers
+held,--which was a miracle, Peggy said afterward,--and the next moment
+all three girls were sitting on the safe, dry ground, crying and holding
+each other tight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FAMILY CHEST.
+
+
+Little was said on the homeward walk. Rita walked between her two
+cousins, holding fast a hand of each. She seemed hardly conscious of
+their presence, however; she sobbed occasionally, dry, tearless sobs,
+and murmured Spanish words to herself. Margaret caught the word
+_"Madre!"_ repeated over and over, and pressed her cousin's hand, and
+spoke soothing words; but Rita did not heed her. Peggy walked quickly,
+head in air, cheeks glowing, and eyes shining. All the awkwardness, the
+hanging head and furtive air, was gone, and Margaret looked at her in
+wonder and admiration. But both girls were a piteous sight as regarded
+their clothes. From head to foot they dripped with black mud, thick and
+slimy. Peggy's dress gave no hint of the original colour in the entire
+front, and Rita's was little better. Their very faces were bedabbled
+with black, and they left a black trail behind them on the grass. In
+this guise they met the astonished gaze of John Strong as he passed
+through the garden on his way to the seed-house. He came hurrying toward
+them with anxious looks.
+
+"My dear children," he cried, "what has happened?" Then, in a different
+tone, "I beg your pardon, young ladies! I was startled at seeing
+you,--there has been some accident?"
+
+But Rita was herself again now in an instant. Her eyes blazed with angry
+pride.
+
+"Keep your place, John Strong!" she said haughtily. "When we address
+you, it will be time for you to speak to us." She swept past him into
+the house, her superb bearing presenting a singular contrast to her
+attire; and Peggy followed her, already beginning to giggle and look
+foolish again. But Margaret lingered, distressed and mortified.
+
+"Oh, John," she said, "there _has_ been an accident! You will
+understand,--Miss Rita got into that terrible bog, and might have been
+drowned there before my eyes, if Miss Peggy had not come by, and drawn
+her out so cleverly." And she told him the whole story, dwelling warmly
+upon Peggy's courage and presence of mind, and blaming herself for not
+having perceived the danger in time.
+
+"It is I who am to blame, Miss Margaret!" said John Strong. "Very, very
+much to blame. Every one about here knows that peat-bog, and avoids it;
+I had warned Miss Peggy, but did not think of your going so far in that
+direction. I am very much to blame."
+
+He seemed so much disturbed that Margaret tried to speak more lightly,
+though she was still pale and trembling; but the gardener kindly begged
+her to go in and rest, and she was glad enough to go.
+
+John Strong stood looking after her a moment.
+
+"I ought to be shot!" he said to himself. "And that is the lassie for
+me! Good stuff in both the others, as I supposed, but this is the one
+for me." And shaking his head, he went slowly on his way.
+
+Margaret went straight to Peggy's room, but found it empty, and passing
+by Rita's found the door shut, and heard voices within. She paused a
+moment, wondering. Should she go in? No; she remembered Mrs. Cheriton's
+words, "It may be that you are not to do it, after all," and she went
+into her own room and shut the door.
+
+It might have been half an hour after that she heard a whispering in the
+hall outside, and then a knock at her door. She ran to open it, and
+stood amazed. There was Peggy, blushing and smiling, looking as pleased
+as a little child, arrayed in the rose-coloured tea-gown whose existence
+she had endangered on the night of her arrival; and there beside her,
+holding her hand, was Rita, in pale blue and swansdown,--Rita, also
+smiling, but with the mockery for once gone from eyes and mouth, and
+with traces of tears on her beautiful face. She now led Peggy forward,
+and presented her formally to Margaret, with a sweeping courtesy.
+
+"Miss Montfort," she began, "this is my sister. I desire for her the
+honour and privilege of your distinguished acquaintance. She kisses your
+hands and feet, as do I myself."
+
+Then suddenly she threw herself upon Margaret's neck, still holding
+Peggy's hand, so that all three were wrapped in one embrace.
+
+"Marguerite," she cried, "behold this child! I have been a brute to her,
+you know it well--" and Margaret certainly did. "A brute, a devil-fish,
+what you will! and she--she has saved my life! You saw it, you heard it;
+another moment, and I should have gone--" she shuddered. "I cannot speak
+of it. But now, Marguerite, hear me swear!"
+
+"Oh my!" ejaculated Peggy, in some alarm.
+
+"Hear me swear!" repeated Rita passionately; "from this moment Peggy is
+my sister. You are not jealous, no? You are also my own soul, but you
+are sufficient to yourself; what do you need, piece of Northern
+perfection that you are? Peggy needs me; I take her, I care for her, I
+form her! so shall it be!" And once more she embraced both cousins
+warmly.
+
+Margaret's eyes filled with happy tears.
+
+"Dear Peggy! Dear Rita!" was all she could say at first, as she returned
+their embraces. Then she made them come in and sit down, and looked from
+one to the other. "It is so good!" she cried. "Oh, so good! You can't
+imagine, girls, how I have longed for this! It did seem so dreadful that
+you should not have the pleasure of each other--but we will not speak
+of that any more! No! and we will bless the black bog for bringing you
+together."
+
+But Rita shuddered again, and begged that she might never hear of the
+bog again.
+
+"Do you observe Peggy's hair?" she asked. "What do you think of it?"
+
+The fair hair was brought smoothly up over the well-shaped head, and
+wound in a pretty, fluffy Psyche knot. The effect was charming in one
+way, but--
+
+"It makes her look too grown-up," Margaret protested. "It is very
+pretty, but I want her to be a little girl as long as she can. You don't
+want to be a young lady yet, do you, Peggy?"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried Peggy. "Indeed I don't! But Rita thought--"
+
+"Rita thought!" cried that young lady, nodding her head sagely. "Rita
+thought wrong, as usual, and Margaret thought right. It is too old; but
+what of that? We will try another style. Ten, twenty ways of dressing
+hair I know. Often and often Conchita and I have spent a whole day
+dressing each other's hair, trying this effect, that effect. Ah, the
+superb hair that Conchita has; it sweeps the floor,--and soft--ah, as a
+bat's wool!"
+
+A few hours ago, Peggy would have sniffed scornfully at all this; but
+now she listened with interest, and something of awe, as her beautiful
+cousin discoursed of braids and puffs, and told of the extraordinary
+effect that might sometimes be produced by a single small curl set at
+the proper curve of the neck. It sounded pretty frivolous, to be sure,
+but then, Rita looked so earnest and so lovely, and it was so new and
+delightful to be addressed by her as an equal,--and a beloved equal at
+that; Peggy's little head was in evident danger of being turned by the
+new position of affairs.
+
+Margaret, feeling that there were limits, even to the subject of
+hairdressing, presently proposed a visit to Aunt Faith, and for once
+neither cousin made any objection. Peggy was mortally afraid of the
+white old lady, and Rita said frankly that she did not like old people,
+and saw no reason why she should put herself out, simply because her
+uncle, whom she had never seen, had chosen to saddle himself with the
+burden of a centenarian. But to-day, Rita was shaken and softened out
+of all her waywardness, and she readily admitted the propriety of
+telling Mrs. Cheriton what had happened.
+
+Aunt Faith listened with deep interest, and was as shocked and
+distressed as heart could desire. The peat-bog, she told them, did not
+belong to their uncle; he had in vain tried to buy the land, in order
+that he might drain or fence it, but the proprietor refused to sell it.
+There was a terrible story, she said, of a man's being lost there, many
+years ago; it was a dreadful place.
+
+Then, seeing Rita shudder again, she changed the subject, and spoke of
+the charming contrast of the pale blue and rose-colour, in the two
+girls' dresses. "The pink suits you well, little Peggy," she said. "I
+have not seen you in a delicate colour before."
+
+"This isn't mine," said honest Peggy; "it is Rita's--" but Rita laid her
+hand over her mouth.
+
+"It _is_ hers!" she said; "a nothing! a tea-gown of last year! One is
+ashamed to offer such a thing, not fit to scour floors in--"
+
+"Certainly not!" said Mrs. Cheriton, laughing. "Ah, Rita! you have the
+Spanish ways, I see. I have heard nothing of that sort since I was in
+Spain sixty years ago."
+
+"What, you have been in Spain!" cried Rita, with animation. "Ah, I did
+not know! Please tell us about it."
+
+"Another time. You would like to hear, I think, about the winter I spent
+in Granada, close by the Alhambra. But now I have something else to say.
+Your pretty dresses remind me that there is a chest of old gowns here
+that it might interest you to look over. Some of them are quite old, two
+hundred years or more."
+
+Then, while the girls uttered cries of delight, she called Janet and
+bade her open the cedar chest in the next room.
+
+"This way, my dears!" and she led the way into a bedroom, as white and
+fresh and dainty as the sitting-room. Janet was already on her knees
+before a deep chest, quaintly carved, and clamped with brass. Now, at
+her mistress's request, she began to lift out the contents.
+
+"Oh! oh! oh!" cried the three girls, positively squeaking with rapture
+and wonderment. The old lady looked from them to the dresses with a
+pleased smile. "They are handsome!" she said.
+
+And they were! They must have been stately dames indeed, the Montfort
+ladies who wore these splendid clothes! Here was a crimson damask, so
+heavily embroidered in silver that it stood alone when Janet set it up
+on the floor; here, again, a velvet, somewhat rubbed by long lying in
+the chest, but of so rich and glowing a purple that only a queen could
+have found it becoming. Here were satins that gleamed like falling
+water; one, of the faint, moonlight tint that we call aqua-marine,
+another with a rosy glow like a reflected sunset. And the peach-coloured
+silk! and the blue and silver brocade! and the amber velvet!
+
+Before the bottom of the chest was reached, the girls were silent,
+having exhausted their stock of words.
+
+At last Margaret cried, "Who were these people, Aunt Faith? Were they
+princesses, or runaway Indian begums, or what? They certainly cannot
+have been simple gentlewomen!"
+
+Mrs. Cheriton laughed her soft, rustling laugh.
+
+"It is a curious old Montfort custom," she said; "it has come down
+through many generations, I believe. The women have had the habit of
+keeping the handsomest gown they had, or one connected with some special
+great event, and laying it in this old chest. Some of them are
+wedding-gowns,--those two satins, for example, and that white brocade
+with the tiny rosebuds,--that was your Grandmother Montfort's
+wedding-gown, my dears, and she looked like a rose in it; I was
+bridesmaid at her wedding. But others,--ah! hand me the blue and silver
+brocade, Janet! Yes, here is an inscription that will, I think, amuse
+you, my children. This was my own mother's contribution to the family
+chest."
+
+She beckoned the girls to look, and they bent eagerly forward. Under the
+rich lace in the neck of the splendid brocade, a piece of paper was
+neatly stitched, and on the paper was written: "This Gown was worne at
+Madam Washington's Ball. I danced with Gen. Washington, the Court
+Minuet, and he praised my dancing. Afterwards the Gen. spilled Wine
+uppon the Front Peece, but I put French Chalks to it, and now the Spotte
+may hardly be Seen."
+
+"Oh," sighed Margaret, "how enchanting! how perfectly delightful! Are
+they all marked, Aunt Faith?"
+
+"Not all, but a good many of them. See! Here is something on this
+sea-green cloak; notice the sleeves, Rita: they are something in the
+Spanish style, as it was in my youth. Let us see what is written here,
+for I forget."
+
+They bent over the yellow writing; in this case it was pinned on the
+hanging sleeve, and read as follows: "This Cloak, with the flowered
+satin Gown, was worn by me, Henrietta Montfort, the last time I went to
+a worldly Assemblage. I lay them away, having entered upon a Life of
+Retirement and Meditation since the Death of my deere Husband. Mem. The
+Cloake was lined with Sabels, which I have removed, lest Moth and Rust
+do corrupt, and have made them into Muffs for the Poor."
+
+"I believe she became a great saint," said Mrs. Cheriton, "and a very
+severe one. I have heard that in the coldest winter weather she would
+not let her servants build fires on Sunday because she did not consider
+it a necessary work. There is a story that one bitter cold Sunday some
+one came to call, and found the whole family in bed, servants and all,
+trying to keep warm. I know they never had any warm victuals on that
+day."
+
+"How pleasant to live now," said Margaret, "instead of then! Aren't you
+glad, girls?"
+
+"My faith!" said Rita, "I would have made a fire with the house, and
+burned her in it; then I should have been warm. But what is this, Aunt
+Faith? If I am truly to call you so, yes? What horror is this? Look at
+the beautiful satin, all destroyed! Cut!--it is cut with knives,
+Marguerite! Look!"
+
+Janet held up a white satin gown, of quaint and graceful fashion. Sure
+enough, it was cut and slashed in every direction, the sleeves hanging
+in ribbons, the skirt slit and gashed down its entire length. Mrs.
+Cheriton shook her head in answer to the girls' looks of amazement and
+inquiry.
+
+"I am sorry you saw that, Rita!" she said. "It recalls a sad story,
+which might better be forgotten. However--well, that gown belonged to my
+poor Aunt Penelope. She was a beautiful girl, but headstrong, and she
+married, against her parents' wishes, a handsome, good-for-nothing man,
+who made her desperately unhappy, and finally left her. She lost her
+mind, poor soul, from sorrow and suffering. When her father brought her
+home to Fernley, she took this, her wedding-gown, and cut it up in this
+strange fashion that you see, and laid it so in the chest; as a warning,
+she told her mother. She died very soon after her return; poor Aunt
+Penelope!"
+
+She signed to Janet to lay the tattered gown back; and it seemed to the
+girls as if the poor lady herself were being laid back in her coffin to
+rest after her troubled life.
+
+"Does--does she walk?" asked Peggy, in an awestruck voice.
+
+"Walk?" repeated Mrs. Cheriton. "I don't--oh, yes! her ghost, you mean,
+Peggy? No, my dear. I fancy she was too tired to think of anything but
+resting. There is only one Montfort ghost that I ever heard of, and that
+one is not a woman's."
+
+"Oh, tell us! Tell us, please!" cried all three girls eagerly. "A real
+ghost? How thrilling!"
+
+"I did not say it was a real ghost, you impetuous children. I do not
+believe in ghosts myself, and I never saw this one. But people used to
+think that the spirit of Hugo Montfort haunted one of the rooms. He died
+suddenly, in great trouble about some family papers that had been lost,
+and the family tradition is that he comes back from time to time to hunt
+once more through desks and drawers, in hope of finding them. He has
+never done so, I believe; but then, he has never been here since I came
+to Fernley. Your Uncle John is no ghost-lover, any more than I am, and I
+fear poor Hugo may feel the lack of sympathy. And now," she added, "this
+is positively enough of old-time gossip. I do not know when I have
+talked so much, children; you make me young and frivolous once more."
+
+"Oh," cried Peggy, who had listened open-mouthed to the last tale; "but
+just tell us what he looks like, when any one does see him. I have
+wanted all my life to be where there was a ghost. Is he--is he in
+white?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no! Hugo Montfort is no hobgoblin ghost in a white sheet,
+with a pumpkin head! He was a very elegant gentleman in his time, and I
+believe his favorite wear is black velvet. By the way, his portrait is
+in the long gallery upstairs. Have you been there, my dears? There are
+some curious old portraits. And there is the garret; you have surely
+visited the garret?"
+
+But the girls had not, they confessed. There had been so much to do, the
+days had gone so rapidly. Margaret alone realised, and she perhaps for
+the first time, how little they had really seen of the house itself.
+There was so much to see out of doors, and when indoors she was always
+drawn irresistibly to the library and its entrancing folios and quartos.
+Peggy had, one rainy day, proposed to "see if there wasn't a garret or
+some place where they could have some fun." But Margaret, as she now
+remembered with a pang, had just discovered the "Hakluyt Chronicles,"
+and was conscious of nothing in the world save the volume before her,
+and the longing wish for her father to enjoy it with her.
+
+"We will go this very afternoon!" she cried, with animation. "Is it
+unlocked? May we roam about wherever we like, Aunt Faith? It sounds
+like Bluebeard! Are there no doors that we may not open?"
+
+"None among those that you will see there," said Mrs. Cheriton. And
+Margaret fancied that she looked grave for a moment. "You will find more
+trunks there," she added quickly, "full of old trumpery, less valuable
+than these dresses, and which you may like to amuse yourselves with.
+Here are the keys of some of them--the wig trunk, the military trunk;
+yes, I think you may be sure of an afternoon's amusement if you are as
+fond of dressing up as I was at your age. Now we must say good-bye, my
+dear children; Janet is shaking her head at me, and it is true that I
+must not talk too long."
+
+She kissed them all affectionately, and they sped away, Margaret only
+lingering to look back with one parting glance at the beautiful old
+figure in its white chair.
+
+"The garret! the garret!" cried Rita. "Hurrah!" shouted Peggy. And they
+flew up the stairs like swallows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE GARRET.
+
+
+On the wide landing of the second story, the girls paused to draw breath
+and look about them. The long gallery ran around three sides of the
+house, with the stairs forming the fourth. It was hung with pictures,
+save where two or three doors broke the wall-space. Singular pictures
+they were, mostly family portraits, it was evident. Some of them were
+very good, though the gems of the collection, the Copleys and Stuarts,
+and the precious Sir Joshua Reynolds, were in the drawing-rooms below.
+The girls ran from one to the other, and great was their delight to
+recognise here and there one of the very gowns they had been admiring in
+the Family Chest.
+
+"Here is Henrietta Montfort, in the sea-green cloak!" cried Margaret.
+"Look, girls, what a haughty, disagreeable face; I don't wonder her
+family trembled before her."
+
+"And here--oh, here is Hugo!" cried Peggy; "black velvet, she said. Look
+here, Margaret!"
+
+The portrait was that of a man in middle life, handsomely dressed in
+black velvet, with hat and ruff. His face was sad, but the bright, dark
+eyes looked intelligently at the girls, and the whole face had a
+familiar look.
+
+"He has a look of Papa," said Margaret softly; "it is a weaker face, but
+there is a strong resemblance."
+
+"_I_ think he looks like John Strong," said Peggy decidedly.
+
+"My dear Peggy," said Rita, "I must pray that you will take less notice
+of our uncle's gardener. What does it matter to you how he looks? I ask
+you. Now that you are my sister I must teach you to forget this habit of
+speaking to servants as if they were your equals. I overheard you the
+other day conversing--absolutely conversing--with this man. Dear child,
+it is wholly unsuitable. I tell you, and I know."
+
+Margaret, who loved peace almost too well, was tempted to let this pass,
+but her conscience shouted at her, and she spoke.
+
+"I am sorry to have you regard John Strong as an ignorant or inferior
+person, Rita," she said gently, knowing that she seemed priggish, but
+encouraged by Peggy's confused and abashed look.
+
+"I think that if you were to talk with him a little yourself, you would
+feel differently. He is a very superior man, and Uncle John has the
+highest opinion of him; Aunt Faith has told me so."
+
+Rita shrugged her shoulders. "Really, _tres chere_," she said, "this is
+a case in which it is not necessary, believe me, to go back a hundred
+years. We hear about the manners of the _vieille ecole_; my faith, the
+school may become too old!"
+
+"Rita!" cried Margaret indignantly. "How can you?"
+
+Rita only shrugged her shoulders; her eyes shone with the very spirit of
+wilfulness.
+
+"_Ma cousine_," she said, "it is a thousand pities that you cannot come
+to Havana with me. The quality of being always virtuous--it is
+abhorrent, _tres chere_; correct it, if possible. And the garret cries
+out for us!" she said, turning away, with the straight line between her
+eyes that meant mischief, as Margaret had already learned. She turned to
+Peggy, who stood in some alarm, not knowing whether the old friend or
+the new should claim her allegiance.
+
+"_Allons!_" she cried. "The door, Peggy! which door will take us to this
+place of joy? this one? _Hein!_ it is locked; it will not open."
+
+"That must be Uncle John's room," said Peggy. "It is always locked. I--I
+have tried it two or three times." And she stole a guilty glance, which
+made the two older girls laugh outright.
+
+"Fatima!" said Margaret, trying to speak lightly, though her heart still
+burned from Rita's insolent words. "Peggy, it is a dangerous thing to
+try doors in a house like Fernley."
+
+"Oh, I dare say it is only a linen closet," said Peggy. "I shouldn't
+have cared, only it is provoking not to be able to see what is in there.
+But this is the garret door, this way. I went up part way once, but it
+seemed so big and spooky, I didn't want to go all the way alone."
+
+It was a big place, indeed, this garret! The girls looked about them in
+wonder, as soon as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light that came
+from the small gable windows. The corners were black and deep,--miles
+deep, poor Peggy thought, as she peered into them. Old furniture lay
+about, broken chairs and gouty-legged tables. In one corner a huge chest
+of drawers loomed, with round, hunched shoulders, as if it were leaning
+forward to watch them; in another--oh, mercy! what was that?
+
+The three caught sight at once of an object so terrifying that Rita and
+Peggy both shrieked aloud, and turned to flee; but Margaret held them
+back.
+
+"Girls," she said, and her voice trembled a little, whether from
+laughter or fear; "wait! It--it can't be what it looks like, you know!
+It must--" She advanced cautiously a few steps, and began to laugh. It
+certainly had looked at first like the figure of a man hanging from the
+rafters; it proved to be only an innocent suit of clothes, dangling its
+legs in a helpless way, and holding out its arms stiffly, as if in
+salutation.
+
+Recovering from their fear, the girls advanced again, Peggy giggling
+nervously. "I thought it was him!" she whispered.
+
+"_He_, not _him_," was on Margaret's lips, but she kept the words back.
+She could not always be a schoolmistress; and then she scorned herself
+for moral cowardice.
+
+"Thought it was who, Peggy?" she asked. "Hugo Montfort?"
+
+"Ye--yes!" said Peggy.
+
+"But he did not hang himself, child! He wants to find his papers, that
+is all. Ah, here are the trunks; now for the wigs, girls!"
+
+The wig trunk proved a most delightful repository. The wigs were in neat
+boxes; many of them were of horsehair, but a few were of human hair,
+frizzed and tortured out of all softness or beauty. Dainty Margaret did
+not incline to put them on, but Peggy was soon glorious in a huge white
+structure, with a wreath of roses on the top, that made her look twice
+her height. "Ain't I fine?" she cried. "Here, Margaret, here is one for
+you."
+
+Margaret twirled the wig around, and examined it curiously. "What they
+all must have looked like!" she said. "This is a judge's wig, I think."
+
+"Then it can fit none but you, Senorita Perfecta!" cried Rita; but the
+sting was gone from her tone, and she had wholly forgotten her moment of
+spite. "Here! here is mine. Behold me, a gallant of the court! I
+advance, I bow--but my cloak, where is my cloak? Quick, Marguerite, the
+key of the other chest!"
+
+The other chest, a great black one, studded with brass nails, contained,
+as Mrs. Cheriton had said, any amount of material for the delightful
+pastime of dressing up. The gauzes were crumpled, to be sure, the gold
+lace tarnished, and the satins and brocades more or less spotted and
+decayed; but what of that? The splendours of the Family Chest were too
+solemn to sport with; here was material for hours and days of joy. Rita
+was soon arrayed in a scarlet military coat, a habit skirt of dark
+velvet, and a plumed hat which perched like a bird on top of her flowing
+wig. Peggy was put into a charming Watteau costume of flowered silk, in
+which she looked so pretty that Rita declared it was a shame for her
+ever to wear anything else; while Margaret found a long, gold-spotted
+gauze that took her fancy mightily. Thus attired, the three girls
+frisked and danced about the huge, dim old garret, astonishing the
+spiders, and sending the mice scuttling into their holes in terror. The
+seventeen years that sometimes weighed heavily on Margaret's slender
+shoulders, and that sat like a flame of pride on Rita's white forehead,
+seemed utterly forgotten; these were three merry children that ran to
+and fro, waking the echoes to mirth. Rita proposed a dance, and cried
+out in horror when Peggy confessed that she could not dance at all, and
+Margaret that she had had few lessons and no experience.
+
+[Illustration: IN THE GARRET.]
+
+"Poor victims!" cried the Cuban. "Slaves of Northern prejudice! I will
+teach you, my poors! Not to dance, not to understand the management of a
+fan--how are you to go through life, without equipment, I ask you?"
+
+She held out her arms with a gesture so tragic that Margaret could not
+help laughing.
+
+"Rita, forgive me!" she said. "I was trying to fancy my poor dear
+father giving me a lesson in the management of a fan. He was really my
+chief teacher, you know."
+
+"Yes, and who was there for me to dance with?" cried Peggy, holding out
+her gay flounces. "Brother Jim would be rather like a grizzly bear, I
+think, and none of the others would. Jean and I used to dance with each
+other, but it was just jumping up and down, for we didn't know anything
+else."
+
+Rita sighed, and felt the weight of empire on her shoulders. "You shall
+learn," she said again. "I will teach you. But not here, it is too dim
+and dusty. The courtesy, however, we can try. Mesdames! Raise the skirt,
+thus, the left foot in advance; the _left_, Peggy, child of despair! now
+bend the right knee, and slowly, slowly, sink thus, with grace and
+dignity. Oh, pity on me, what have you done now?"
+
+Poor Peggy had done her best, but when it came to sinking slowly and
+gracefully, it was too much for her. She stepped on her train, tripped,
+lost her balance, and fell heavily back against the wall. She clutched
+the wooden panel behind her, and felt it move under her fingers.
+
+"Oh, mercy!" she cried, "it's moving! The wall is moving! Margaret,
+catch hold of my hand!"
+
+Margaret caught her hand, and helped her to her feet. When she moved
+away from the wall, it was seen that the wooden panel had indeed moved.
+It had slid open a few inches, and blackness looked through at them.
+Peggy clutched her cousins and trembled. Where was now the courage, the
+coolness, which had made her the heroine of the morning's adventure?
+Gone! Anything in the ordinary course of nature, bogs and such matters,
+Peggy was mistress of, but black spaces, with possible white figures
+lurking in them, were out of her province.
+
+"Margaret," she whispered, "do you see? It is open!"
+
+"Yes, I see!" said Margaret. "What a delightfully mysterious thing,
+girls! A secret chamber, perhaps, or a staircase! It must be a
+staircase, for it is in the thickness of the wall behind the chimney. Do
+run and get a lamp, Peggy, like a good girl, and we will see. How damp
+and earthy it smells!"
+
+Peggy flew, only too glad to get away from the black, yawning hole. She
+was back in three minutes with the lamp, and the three cousins peered
+into the open space, Margaret holding the lamp high above her head, so
+that the light might penetrate as far as possible.
+
+It was indeed a staircase; a narrow, winding way, wide enough for one
+person, but no more. It plunged down like a black pit, and its end could
+not be seen.
+
+"But this is superb!" cried Margaret. "Shall we explore it, girls? I
+don't suppose there can be any objection, do you? It is probably never
+used."
+
+"By all means, let us explore!" said Rita. "But do you know what I am
+thinking, Marguerite?"
+
+"Something romantic and mysterious, I am sure!" said Margaret, smiling.
+
+"Something practical and businesslike, rather, _tres chere_. I am
+thinking that for a concealment, if a concealment were necessary, this
+is the finest house in the world. Come on!"
+
+Peggy hung back, her round cheeks pale with dread; but she could not
+bear to be left behind; and as Margaret and Rita plunged down the
+narrow stair, she followed, with beating heart. She had longed all her
+breezy little life for mystery, adventure, something wonderful to happen
+to her, with which she could impress and awe the younger children; now
+it had really come, and her heart beat with mingled terror and
+excitement.
+
+Down--down--down. The lamplight shone on the rough walls of discoloured
+plaster, the old steps creaked beneath their tread; that was all. Now
+they came to a tiny landing, and something gleamed before them,--the
+brass handle of a door. Margaret hesitated, fearing that they might be
+trenching on forbidden ground; but Rita opened the door quickly, and
+Peggy pressed down behind her.
+
+They saw a room, like the other bedrooms in the house, large and airy.
+It was evidently ready for use, the bed neatly made, everything in
+spotless order. Brushes and shaving-tools lay on the dressing-bureau.
+The table was covered with books.
+
+"Uncle John's room!" whispered Margaret. "It must be, of course; and
+this is where the locked door is on the second story. Come along,
+girls; we ought not to go prying into people's rooms!"
+
+"My faith, I cannot see that!" retorted Rita. "If there were anything of
+interest in the room,--but nothing--a plain room, and nothing more! A
+pretty thing to end a secret staircase; he should have shame for it. But
+come, as you say; we have yet a way to go down."
+
+They closed the door carefully, and once more began the descent.
+Down--down--down. But this second half of the way was different. The
+staircase was wider, and the walls were cased in wood. Moreover, it
+showed marks of usage. The steps above were covered with thick dust,
+evidently long undisturbed; but these were clean and shining. Decidedly,
+the mystery was deepening.
+
+"Suppose we find it is just a back way to the servants' rooms!"
+whispered practical Margaret.
+
+"Suppose feedle-dee-dee!" said Rita; and her funny little foreign accent
+on the word made Peggy choke and splutter behind her.
+
+Now they were evidently approaching the ground floor, for sounds were
+audible below them: a footstep, and then the clink of metal, as if some
+one were moving fire-irons.
+
+"Elizabeth, probably!" whispered Margaret. "What shall we say to her?"
+
+"Let's yell and rush out and scare her!" proposed Peggy.
+
+"Hush!" said Rita. "Oh, hush! we know not who it is. Look! a gleam of
+light,--the crack of a door! quick, the lamp!" and with a swift, silent
+breath she blew out the lamp, and they were in total darkness.
+
+They now saw plainly the light that shone through the crack of a door, a
+few steps below them. The sounds in the room beneath had ceased. All was
+still for a moment; then suddenly Peggy made a false step in the dark,
+and stumbled; she uttered a smothered shriek, and then began to giggle.
+
+"Animal!" muttered Rita through her teeth. "Can you not be silent?"
+
+Peggy was now in front, and seeing that light came also through the
+keyhole, she stooped and looked through it. The next instant she uttered
+a dreadful shriek, and staggered back into Margaret's arms. "The man!"
+she cried; "the man in black velvet!"
+
+A chair was hastily pushed back in the room below; steps crossed the
+floor, and as Margaret flung open the door, another door at the further
+end of the room was seen to close softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CUBA LIBRE.
+
+
+"But, Marguerite, when I tell you that I _know_!"
+
+"But, Rita, my dear, how _can_ you know?"
+
+"Look at me; listen to me! Have you your senses?"
+
+"Most of them, I hope."
+
+"Very well, then, attend! When stupid, stupid Peggy--I love her,
+observe; she is my sister, but we must admit that she is stupid,--truth,
+Marguerite, is the jewel of my soul--when she stumbled against the door,
+when she screamed, we heard sounds, did we not?"
+
+"We did!" Margaret admitted.
+
+"Sounds,--and what sounds? Not the broom of a servant, not the rustle of
+a dress,--no, we hear the step of a man! We enter, and a door closes at
+the further end of the room; click, a lock snaps! I rush to the window;
+a figure disappears around the corner of the house; I cannot see what
+it is, but I would swear it was no woman. I return,--we look about us at
+this room, which never have we seen before. A gentleman's room, as an
+infant could perceive. A private library, study, what you will,
+luxurious, enchanting. Books over which you sob with emotion,--or would
+sob, if your temperament permitted you expression; pictures that fill my
+soul with enchantment; a writing-table, and on it papers--heaps and
+mounds of papers! Am I right? do I exaggerate? Alps, Pyrenees of papers!
+You saw them?"
+
+"I didn't see anything higher than Mt. Washington," said Margaret
+soberly. "There were a good many, I confess."
+
+"They burst from drawers," pursued Rita, enjoying herself immensely;
+"they toppled like snow-drifts; they strewed the floor to a depth of--"
+
+"Oh, Rita, Rita! do rein your Pegasus in, or he will fly away
+altogether. There certainly were a great many papers, and they confirmed
+our poor little Peggy in her belief that the man she had seen was Hugo
+Montfort, making his ghostly search for the papers he lost. Whereas you
+think--"
+
+"Think! when I tell you that I _know_!"
+
+"You think," Margaret went on calmly, "that it was John Strong, the
+gardener. Well, and what if it was?"
+
+"What if it was? Marguerite, you are impossible; you have the
+intelligence of a babe new born. What! we find this man in his master's
+room, spying upon his private things, _romaging_--what is that
+word?--_romaging_ his papers, most likely making himself possessed of
+what he will, and you say, what of this? _Caramba_, I will tell you what
+of this it would be in Cuba! String him up to the wall and give him
+quick fifty lashes; that would be of it!"
+
+"Long Island is a good way from Cuba!" said Margaret. "I don't think we
+will try anything of that sort here, Rita. And when you come to think of
+it, my dear, we have been here a few weeks, and John Strong was here
+before we were born; Aunt Faith told me so. Don't you think he may
+perhaps know what he is about rather better than we do?"
+
+"Know what he is about!" Rita protested, with a shower of nods, that he
+knew very well what he was about. The question was, did their uncle
+know? And the black velvet coat, what had Margaret to say to that? she
+demanded. It was evident that this good man, this worthy servant, was in
+the habit of wearing his master's clothes during his absence. Did
+gardeners habitually appear in black velvet? Ha! tell her that!
+
+Margaret did not know that they did, but it was perfectly possible that
+Mr. Montfort might have given some of his old clothes, a cast-off
+smoking-jacket, for example, to his gardener and confidential servant.
+There would be nothing remarkable in that, surely. Besides, were they
+absolutely certain that the mysterious individual was dressed in black
+velvet? Poor, dear Peggy was in such a state of excitement, she might
+well have fancied--and so on, and so on. The two cousins went over the
+ground again and again, but could come to no decision.
+
+"Say what you will, _tres chere_!" said Rita, finally; "glorify your
+gardener, give him the family wardrobe, the family papers; I keep watch
+on him, that is all! Let Master Strong beware! Not for nothing was I
+brought up on a plantation. Have I not known overseers, to say nothing
+of hosts of servants, white, black, yellow? Your books, _chere
+Marguerite_, do they teach you the knowledge of persons? Let him beware!
+he knows not a Cuban!" and she nodded, and bent her brows so tragically
+that Margaret could hardly keep her countenance.
+
+"Have you ever acted, Rita?" she asked, following the train of her
+thoughts. "I am sure you must do it so well."
+
+"_Mi alma!_" cried Rita, "it was my joy! Conchita and I--_ahi_! what
+plays we have acted in the myrtle-bower in the garden! Will you see me
+act? You shall."
+
+John Strong and his iniquities were forgotten in a moment. Bidding
+Margaret call Peggy, and make themselves into an audience in the lower
+hall, Rita whirled away to her own room, where they could hear her
+singing to herself, and pulling open drawers with reckless ardour. The
+two other girls ensconced themselves in a window-seat of the hall and
+waited.
+
+"Do you know what she is going to do?" asked Peggy.
+
+Margaret shook her head. "Something pretty and graceful, no doubt. She
+is a born actress, you know."
+
+"I never saw an actress," said Peggy. "She--she is awfully fascinating,
+Margaret, isn't she?"
+
+Margaret assented warmly. There was no tinge of jealousy in her
+composition, or she might have felt a slight pang at the tone of
+admiring awe in which Peggy now spoke of her Cuban cousin. Things were
+changed indeed since the night of their arrival.
+
+"It isn't only that she is so awfully pretty," Peggy went on, "but she
+moves so--and her voice is so soft, and--oh, Margaret, do you suppose I
+can ever be the least like her, just the least bit in the world?"
+
+She looked anxiously at Margaret, who gazed back affectionately at her,
+at the round, rosy childish face, the little tilted nose, the fluffy,
+fair hair. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to stroke and
+pat Peggy as if she were a kitten, but no one would think of patting
+Rita.
+
+"Dear," said Margaret softly, "dear Peggy! I like you better as you are.
+Of course Rita is very beautiful, and neither you nor I could ever look
+in the least like her, Peggy. But--it is a great deal better to look
+like our own selves, isn't it, and learn to appear at our best in a way
+that suits us? That is what I think. Now that you have learned to do
+your hair so nicely, and to keep your dress neat--"
+
+"You taught me that," said honest Peggy; "you taught me all that,
+Margaret. I was a perfect pig when I came here; you know I was."
+
+"Don't call my cousin names, miss! I cannot permit it. But if I have
+taught you anything, Peggy, it is Rita who has given you the little
+graces that you have been picking up. I never could have taught you to
+bow,--and really, you are quite superb since the last lesson. Then,
+these pretty dresses--"
+
+"Oh, _do_ you think I ought to take them?" broke in Peggy. "Margaret, do
+you think so? She brought them into my room, you know, and flung them
+down in a heap, and said they were only fit for dust-cloths--you know
+the way she talks, dear thing. The lovely brown crepon, she said it was
+the most hideous thing she had ever seen, and that it was the deed of
+an assassin to offer it to me. And when I said I couldn't take so many,
+she snatched up the scissors, and was going to cut them all up--she
+really was, Margaret. What could I do?"
+
+"Nothing, dear child, except take them, I really think. It was a real
+pleasure to Rita to give them to you, I am sure, and she could not
+possibly wear a quarter of all the gowns she brought here. But see, here
+comes our bird of paradise herself. Now we shall see something lovely!"
+
+Rita came down the stairs, singing a little Spanish song. Her dress of
+black gauze fluttered in wide breezy folds, a gauze scarf floated from
+her shoulders; she was indeed a vision of beauty, and the two cousins
+gazed at her with delight. Advancing into the middle of the hall, she
+swept a splendid courtesy, and suddenly unfurled a huge scarlet fan.
+With this, she proceeded to go through a series of astonishing
+performances. She danced with it, she sang with it. She closed it, and
+it was a dagger, and she swooped upon an invisible enemy, and stabbed
+him to the heart; she flung it open, and it became the messenger of
+love, over which her black eyes gleamed and glowed in irresistible
+coquetry. All the time she kept up a dramatic chant, sometimes sinking
+almost to a whisper, again rising to a shriek of joy or passion.
+Suddenly she stopped.
+
+"All this is play!" she said, turning to her rapt audience.
+
+"Now you shall see the real thing: you shall see _Cuba libre_. But for
+this I must have another person; it is impossible to do it alone.
+Margaret,--no! Peggy can better do this! Peggy, come, and you shall be
+Spain, the tyrant."
+
+Peggy looked as if she would much rather be aspiring Cuba, but she came
+forward obediently, and was bidden to put herself in an attitude of
+insolent defiance. Peggy scowled and doubled up her fists, thinking of a
+picture of a prizefighter that she had once seen.
+
+"_Ahi!_" cried Rita, springing upon her. "Not thus! you have the air of
+a cross child. Thus, do you see? Fold the arms upon the chest, abase the
+head, bring the eyebrows down till you have to look through them! So!
+that is better! Now gnaw your under lip, and draw in your breath with a
+hiss, thus!" and Rita herself uttered a hiss so malignant that poor
+Peggy started back in affright. "But be still!" cried Rita, "you are now
+perfect. You are an object--is she not, Marguerite?--to turn cold the
+blood." Margaret did not commit herself, being wholly occupied in
+keeping back the smiles that Peggy's aspect called forth. She certainly
+was an object, poor dear child, but Rita was so absorbed in her play
+that she saw nothing absurd even in a tyrant scowling through flaxen
+eyebrows with a pair of helpless, frightened blue eyes. She now drew
+back, knelt, flung up her arms, and raised her eyes to heaven. Her lips
+moved; she was praying for the success of her cause. Rising, she came
+forward, and with noble earnestness demanded her freedom. The tyrant was
+bidden to look about on the ruin and desolation that he had wrought; he
+was implored by all that was holy, all that was just and noble, to
+withdraw from the land where he had long ceased to have any real right
+of ownership. Peggy, in obedience to whispered orders, shook her head
+with stubborn violence, and stamped her foot. Cuba then, drawing herself
+to her full height, threw down her gage of defiance (a tiny
+pearl-covered glove) and declared war to extermination. The banner of
+freedom (the fan) was unfurled and waved on high, the national song was
+chanted, and the war began. Spain, the tyrant, now had a hard time of
+it. She was pounced upon from one side, then from another; she was
+surrounded, hustled this way and that; the fan was fluttered wide in her
+face, poked sharply between her ribs. A single straightforward blow from
+her strong young arm would have laid the slender Cuba at her feet, but
+she could strike no blow. She was only to hiss, and clutch the air in
+impotent fury, and when she did this, Margaret had such an
+uncontrollable fit of coughing that it almost produced an armistice.
+
+[Illustration: "CUBA LIBRE."]
+
+Now Spain was told that she was growing weak, a decrepit, bleeding old
+woman. Her fate was upon her; let her die!
+
+Obeying the imperious gesture, Peggy sank on her knees, and had the
+satisfaction of hearing that "the old serpent died bravely." The fan did
+more and more dreadful execution, and now she lay gasping, dying, on the
+floor. Standing above her was a triumphant young goddess, waving the
+flag of _Cuba libre_, and declaring, with her foot on the neck of the
+prostrate tyrant, that despotism was dead, and that Freedom was
+descending from heaven, robed in the Cuban colours, and surrounded by a
+choir of angels, all singing the national anthem. And here Rita actually
+pulled from her bosom a small flag showing the Cuban colours, and waved
+it, crying that the blood-red banner of war (the fan) was now furled
+forever, and that Cuba and the United States, now twin sisters, would
+proceed to rule the world after the most approved methods. This ended
+the scene, and the two actors stood before Margaret, one very red and
+sheepish, the other glowing like flame with pride and enthusiasm,
+awaiting her plaudits. Margaret clapped and shouted as loud as she
+could, and expressed her admiration warmly enough; but Rita shook her
+head and sighed.
+
+"Ah, for an audience!" she cried. "To pour out one's heart, to live the
+life of one's country, and have but one to see it,--it is sad, it is
+tragic. Do I exaggerate, Marguerite?--it is death-dealing!" Then she
+praised Peggy, and told her that she had made a magnificent tyrant, and
+had died as game as possible. "Ah!" she said. "What it would be if you
+could only do something real for Cuba! I would shed my blood, would pour
+out its ultimate drops (Rita's idioms were apt to become foreign when
+she was excited), but if you also could do something, my cousins, what
+glory, what joy for you; and it may be possible. No, hush! not a word!
+At present, I breathe not a whisper, I am the grave. But there may come
+a day, an hour, when I shall call to you with the voice of a trumpet;
+and you,--you will awaken, halves of my heart; you will spring to my
+side, you will--Marguerite, you are laughing! At what, I ask you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, dear," said Margaret. "I was only thinking that a
+trumpet might really be needed, since a bell is not loud enough. The
+dinner-bell rang five minutes ago, and Elizabeth has come to see what we
+are about."
+
+But at sight of Elizabeth, standing demurely in the doorway, _Cuba
+libre_ vanished, and there remained only a very pretty young lady in
+the sulks, who had to be coaxed for five minutes more before she would
+come to her dinner.
+
+"Am I seventeen, or thirty-seven?" thought Margaret, as she finally led
+the way to the dining-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+DAY BY DAY.
+
+
+    "Oh! what a mystery
+    The study is of history!"
+
+For some time things continued to go smoothly and pleasantly at Fernley.
+The days slipped away, with nothing special to mark any one, but all
+bright with flowers and gay with laughter. The three girls were
+excellent friends, and grew to understand each other better and better.
+The morning belonged rather to Margaret and Peggy; Rita was always late,
+and often preferred to have her breakfast brought to her room, a
+practice of which the other girls disapproved highly. They were always
+out in the garden by half past eight, with breakfast a thing of the
+past, and the day before them. The stocking-basket generally came with
+them, and waited patiently in a corner of the green summer-house while
+they took their "constitutional," which often consisted of a run through
+the waving fields, or a walk along the top of the broad stone wall that
+ran around the garden; or again, a tree-top excursion, as they called
+it, in the great swing under the chestnut-trees. Then, while they mended
+their stockings, Margaret would give Peggy a "talk-lesson," the only
+kind that she was willing to receive, on English history, with an
+occasional digression to the Trojan war, or the Norse mythology, as the
+case might be. Peggy detested history, and knew next to nothing of it,
+and this was a grievous thing to Margaret.
+
+    "First William the Norman,
+      Then William his son;
+    Henry, Stephen and Henry,
+      Then Richard and John,"
+
+had been one of her own nursery rhymes, and she could not understand any
+one's not thrilling responsive when the great names were spoken that
+filled her with awe and joy, or with burning resentment.
+
+"But, my dear," she would cry, when Peggy yawned at Canute, and said he
+was an old stupid, "my dear, think of the place he holds! think of the
+things he did!"
+
+"Well, he's dead!" Peggy would reply; "I don't see what good it does to
+bother about him now. Who cares what he did, all that time ago?"
+
+"But," Margaret explained patiently, "if he had not done the things,
+Peggy, don't you see, everything would have been different. We must
+know, mustn't we, how it all came about that our life is what it is now?
+We must see what we came from, and who the men were that made the
+changes, and brought us on and up."
+
+"I don't see why!" said Peggy; "I don't see what difference it makes to
+me that Alfred played the harp. I don't want to play the harp, and I
+never saw any one who did. It is rather fun about the cakes, but he was
+awfully stupid to let them burn, seems to me."
+
+Not a thrill could Margaret awaken by any recital of the sorrows and
+sufferings of the Boy Kings, or even of her favourite Prince Arthur.
+When her voice broke in the recital of his piteous tale, Peggy would
+look up at her coolly and say, "How horrid of them! But he would have
+been dead by this time anyway, Margaret; why do you care so much?"
+
+Still Margaret persevered, never losing hope, simply because she could
+not believe that the subject itself could fail to interest any one in
+his senses. It was her own fault a good deal, she tried to think; she
+did not tell the story right, or her voice was too monotonous,--Papa was
+always telling her to put more colour into her reading,--or something.
+The history itself could not be at fault.
+
+"And, Peggy dear; don't think I want to be lecturing you all the time,
+but--these are things that one _has_ to know something about, or one
+will appear uneducated, and you don't want to do that."
+
+"I don't care. I don't see the use of this kind of education, Margaret,
+and that is just the truth. Ma never had any of what you call
+education,--she was a farmer's daughter, you know, and had always lived
+on the prairie,--and she has always got on well enough. Hugh talks just
+like you do--"
+
+"Please, dear, _as_ you do, not _like_."
+
+"Well, _as_ you do, then. He talks William the Conqueror and all those
+old fuddy-duddies by the yard, but he can't make me see the use of
+them, and you can't. Now if you would give me some mathematics; _that_
+is what I want. If you would give me some solid geometry, Margaret!"
+
+But here poor Margaret hung her head and blushed, and confessed that she
+had no solid geometry to give. Her geometry had been fluid, or rather,
+vapourous, and had floated away, unthought of and unregretted.
+
+"I am sorry and ashamed," she said. "Of course I ought to be able to
+teach it, and if I go into a school, of course I shall have to study
+again and make it up, so that I can. But it never can be possible that
+triangles should be as interesting as human beings, Peggy."
+
+"A great deal more interesting," Peggy maintained, "when the human
+beings are dead and buried hundreds of years."
+
+"One word more, and I have done," said poor Margaret. "You used an
+expression, dear,--old fuddy-duddies, was it? I never heard it before.
+Do you think it is an elegant expression, Peggy dear?"
+
+"It's as good as I am girl!" said Peggy; and Margaret shut her eyes, and
+felt despair in her heart. But soon she felt a warm kiss on her
+forehead, and Peggy was promising to be good, and to try harder, and
+even to do her best to learn the difference between the two
+Harolds,--Hardrada and Godwinsson.
+
+And if she would promise to do that, might she just climb up now and see
+what that nest was, out on the fork there?
+
+Perhaps Rita would come down soon, with her guitar or her
+embroidery-frame; and they would sing and chatter till the early dinner.
+Rita's songs were all of love and war, boleros and bull-fights. She sang
+them with flashing ardour, and the other girls heard with breathless
+delight, watching the play of colour and feeling, that made her face a
+living transcript of what she sang. But when she was tired, she would
+hand the guitar to Margaret, and beg her to sing "something cool,
+peaceful, sea-green, like yourself, Marguerite!"
+
+"Am I sea-green?" asked Margaret.
+
+"Ah! cherub! you understand me! My blood is in a fever with these songs
+of Cuba. I want coolness, icy caves, pine-trees in the wind!"
+
+So Margaret would take the guitar, and sing in her calm, smooth
+contralto the songs her father used to love: songs of the North, that
+had indeed the sound of the sea and the wind in them.
+
+    "It was all for our rightful king
+      That we left fair Scotland's strand.
+    It was all for our rightful king,
+      We ever saw Irish land,
+         My dear,
+      We ever saw Irish land!"
+
+The plaintive melody rose and fell like the waves on the shore; and Rita
+would curl herself like a panther in the sun, and murmur with pleasure,
+and call for more. Then, perhaps, Margaret would sing that lovely ballad
+of Hogg's, which begins,
+
+    "Far down by yon hills of the heather sae green,
+      And down by the corrie that sings to the sea,
+    The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane,
+      The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e.
+
+    "She looked on a boat with the breezes that swung
+      Afar on the wave, like a bird on the main,
+    And aye as it lessened, she sighed and she sung,
+      'Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!'"
+
+But Rita had no patience with Flora McDonald.
+
+"Why did she not go with him?" she asked, when Margaret, after the song
+was over, told the brave story of Prince Charlie's escape after
+Culloden, and of how the noble girl, at the risk of her own life, led
+the prince, disguised as her waiting-woman, through many weary ways,
+till they reached the seashore where the vessel was waiting to take him
+to France.
+
+"He could not speak!" said Margaret. "He just took her hand, and stood
+looking at her; but she could hardly see him for her tears. Then he took
+off his cap, and stooped down and kissed her twice on the forehead; and
+so he went. But after he was in the boat, he turned again, and said to
+her:
+
+"'After all that has happened, I still hope, madam, we shall meet in St.
+James's yet!' But of course they never did."
+
+"But why did she not go with him?" demanded Rita. "She had spirit, it
+appears. Why did she let him go without her?"
+
+Margaret gazed at her wide-eyed.
+
+"He was going into exile," she said. "She had done all she could, she
+had saved his life; there was nothing more to be done."
+
+"But--that she should leave him! Did she not love him? was he
+faithless?"
+
+Margaret blushed, and drew herself up unconsciously. "You do not
+understand, Rita," she said gravely. "This was her prince, the son of
+her sovereign; she was a simple Scottish gentlewoman. When he was flying
+for his life, she was able to befriend him, and to save his life at
+peril of her own; but when that was over, there was no more need of her,
+and she went back to her home. What should she have done in France, at
+the king's court?"
+
+"Even if so," muttered Rita, with the well-known shrug of her shoulders,
+"I would have gone, if it had been I. He should not have thrown me off
+like that."
+
+Margaret raised her eyes, full of angry light, and opened her lips to
+speak; but instead kept silence for a moment. Then, "You do not
+understand," she said again, but gently; "my mother was a Scotchwoman,
+so I feel differently, of course. It is no matter, but I will tell you
+this about Miss McDonald: that when she died, years after, an old woman
+of seventy, she was buried in the sheet that had covered Prince Charles
+Stuart, that night after Culloden."
+
+"My!" said Peggy, "it must have been awfully yellow!"
+
+After dinner it was Rita's custom to take a siesta. She declared that
+she required more sleep than most people, and that without eleven hours'
+repose she should perish. So while she slept, Margaret and Peggy
+arranged flowers, or Peggy would write home, with many sighs of
+weariness and distress, while Margaret, sitting near her, snatched a
+half-hour for some enchanting book. It sometimes seemed to her more than
+she could bear, to be among so many fine books, and to have almost no
+time to read. At home, several hours were spent in reading, as a matter
+of course; often and often, the long, happy evening would pass without a
+word exchanged between her father and herself. Only, when either looked
+up from the book, there was always the meeting glance of love and
+sympathy, which made the printed page shine golden when the eyes
+returned to it. Here, reading was considered a singular waste of time.
+Rita read herself to sleep with a novel, but Peggy was entirely frank in
+her confession that she should not care if she never saw a book again.
+Even the home letters were a grievous task to her, for she never could
+think of anything to say. Margaret, deep in the precious pages of
+Froissart, it might be, would be roused by a portentous sigh, and
+looking up, would find Peggy champing the penhandle, and gazing at her
+with lack-lustre eyes.
+
+"What's the matter now, Peg of Limavaddy?"
+
+"I can't--think--of a single thing to say."
+
+"Child! I thought you had so much to tell them this time. Think of that
+lovely drive we took yesterday; I thought you were going to tell about
+that. Don't you remember the sunset from the top of the long hill, and
+how we made believe the clouds were our fairy castles, and each said
+what she would do when she got there? Rita was going to organise a
+Sunset Dance, with ten thousand fairies in crimson and gold, and you
+were going to be met by a hundred thoroughbred horses, all white as
+snow, and were going to drive them abreast in a golden chariot; don't
+you remember all that? Tell them about the drive!"
+
+"I have told them," said Peggy gloomily. "I couldn't put in all that,
+Margaret; it would take all day, and besides, Ma would think I was
+crazy."
+
+"Do you mind my seeing what you wrote?--oh, Peggy!"
+
+For Peggy had written this: "We had an elagant ride yesterday."
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Peggy. "Isn't it spelled right?"
+
+"Oh, that isn't it!" said Margaret. "At least, that is the smallest
+part. 'Elegant' has two _e_'s, not two _a_'s. But,--Peggy dear, you
+surely would not speak of a _drive_ as _elegant_!"
+
+"Why not? I said ride, not drive, but I don't see any difference. It
+_was_ elegant; you said so yourself. I don't understand what you mean,
+Margaret." And Peggy looked injured, and began to hunch her shoulders
+and put out her under lip; but for once Margaret, wounded in a tender
+part, took no heed of the signs of coming trouble.
+
+[Illustration: PEGGY WRITES HOME.]
+
+"_I_ say so? Never!" she cried indignantly. "I hope I--that is, I--I
+don't think the word can be used in that way, Peggy; I do not, indeed.
+You speak of an elegant dress, or an elegant woman, but _not_ of an
+elegant drive or an elegant sunset. The word implies something refined,
+something--"
+
+"Oh, bother!" said Peggy rudely. "I didn't come here to school, Margaret
+Montfort!"
+
+"I sometimes wonder if you ever went anywhere to school!" said Margaret;
+and she took her book and went away without another word, her heart
+beating high with anger and impatience.
+
+Such affairs were short-lived, however. Margaret had too much sense and
+good feeling, Peggy too much affection, to let them last. The kiss and
+the kind word were not long in following, and it was to be noticed that
+Rita was never allowed to find out that her two Northern cousins ever
+disagreed by so much as a word. There was some unspoken bond that bade
+them both make common cause before the foreign cousin whom both loved
+and admired. So when Rita made her appearance beautifully dressed for
+the afternoon drive or walk (for they could not have the good white
+horse every day,--a fact which made the senorita chafe and rage against
+John Strong more than ever), she always found smiling faces to welcome
+her, and the three would go off together in high spirits, to explore
+some new and lovely part of the country.
+
+Peggy was always the driver. On their first drive John Strong had gone
+with them, to the intense disgust of Rita, and the indignation of Peggy,
+who, though she was very fond of the grave factotum, resented the doubt
+he implied of her skill. It was a silent drive, Margaret alone
+responding to the remarks of their conductor, as he pointed out this or
+that beautiful view. He never went with them again, but having first
+tested Peggy's powers by a _tete-a-tete_ drive with her, cheerfully
+resigned the reins, and used to watch their departure with calm
+approval.
+
+"The little one makes much the best figure on the box!" John Strong
+would say to himself. "If life were all driving, now--but--
+
+    "Weel I ken my ain lassie;
+    Kind love is in her e'e!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+LOOKING BACKWARD.
+
+
+But in the twilight came Margaret's hour of comfort. Then Peggy had her
+dancing-lesson from Rita, and while the two were whirling and stumping
+about the hall, she would steal away through the little door and down
+the three steps to the white rooms, where peace and quiet, gentle words
+and kind affection were always awaiting her. Aunt Faith always
+understood the little troubles, and had the right word to say, of
+sympathy or counsel. The two had grown very near to each other.
+
+"How is it," Margaret asked one evening, "I seem so much nearer your
+age, Aunt Faith, than the girls'? Do you suppose I really belong to your
+generation, and got left behind by accident?"
+
+Aunt Faith laughed. "My dear, you ought to have had half a dozen
+brothers and sisters!" she said. "An only child grows up too fast,
+especially where, as in your case, the companionship with father or
+mother is close and intimate. No doubt your dear father did his best to
+grow down to your age, when you were little; but he did not succeed, I
+fear, so you had to grow up to his. Was not that the way?"
+
+Margaret nodded thoughtfully. "I remember his playing horse with me!"
+she said. "Poor dear Papa! I asked him to play, and he said in his deep,
+slow way, 'Surely! surely! the child must have play. Play is necessary
+for development.' And then he sat and looked at me, with his Greek book
+in his hand, as if I were a word that he could not find the meaning of.
+Oh! I remember it so well, though I must have been a little tot. Then he
+got up and said, 'I will be a horse, Margaret! Consider me a horse!' and
+he gave me the tassels of his dressing-gown, and began to amble about
+the room slowly, among the piles of books. Oh, dear! I can see him now,
+dear Papa! He made a _very_ slow horse, Aunt Faith, and I felt, in a
+baby way, that there was something awful about it, and that he was not
+meant to play. I think I must have dropped the tassels pretty soon, for
+he came to a great book lying open on a chair, and forgot everything
+else, and stood there for an hour reading it. I never asked him to play
+again, but we used to laugh over it when we were big--I mean when I was
+big, and had grown up to him a little bit."
+
+Mrs. Cheriton laid her hand on the girl's head, and smoothed her hair
+tenderly.
+
+"You must have been lonely sometimes, dear?" she said.
+
+"Oh, no; never, I think. You see, I learned so many things that I could
+play by myself, and it never troubled Papa to have me in the room where
+he was writing; I think he rather liked it. I had the waste-paper
+basket; that was one of my chief delights. I might do what I wanted with
+the papers, if I only put them back. So I carpeted the room with them,
+and I laid out streets and squares, and had the pamphlets for walls and
+houses. Or I was a queen, with a great correspondence, and all the
+letters were brought to me by pages in green and gold, and when I read
+them (this was before I could really read, of course), they were all
+from my baby sister, and they told of all the lovely things she was
+seeing, and the wonderful countries she and Mamma were travelling in.
+Aunt Faith, I never see a waste-paper basket now, without feeling as if
+there must be a letter for me in it."
+
+"Was there really a baby sister, dear?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes! she died with Mamma, only a few days after her
+birth,--little Penelope! It seems such a great name for a tiny baby,
+doesn't it, Aunt Faith? But it is a family name, Papa told me."
+
+"Yes, indeed, many of the Montforts have been named Penelope. You
+remember the poor Aunt Penelope I told you about, who made the unhappy
+marriage; and there were many others."
+
+"Oh, that reminds me!" said Margaret. "Aunt Faith, you promised to tell
+me some day about Aunt Phoebe. Don't you remember? We were speaking of
+these white rooms, and you said it was a fancy of Uncle John's to have
+them so, and you thought he remembered his Great-aunt Phoebe; and then
+you said you would tell me some time, and this is some time, isn't it,
+Auntie dear?"
+
+"I cannot deny that, Margaret, certainly. And I don't know why this is
+not a very good time; the twilight is soft and dusky, and Aunt Phoebe's
+story ought not to be told in broad daylight."
+
+She was silent a moment, as if looking back into the past. "It is the
+sequel, rather than the story itself, that is singular," she said. "The
+first part is like only too many other stories, alas! Your Great-aunt
+Phoebe--your Great-great-aunt, I should say--was betrothed to a brave
+young officer, Lieutenant Hetherington. It was just at the breaking out
+of the War of 1812, and the engagement was made just as he was going
+into active service. She was a beautiful girl, with large dark eyes, and
+superb fair hair,--none of you three girls have this combination, but it
+is not uncommon among the Montforts; I myself had fair hair and dark
+eyes. Phoebe was highly romantic, and when her lover went to war, she
+gave him a sword-belt plaited of her own hair."
+
+"Oh," cried Margaret, "like Sir Percival's sister!"
+
+"Exactly! Very likely it was from that story that she took the idea,
+for she was a great reader. However it might be, her mother was greatly
+distressed at her cutting off so much of her fine hair, and did her best
+to prevent it, but to no purpose, as you may imagine. Giles Hetherington
+joined the army, carrying the braided belt with him, and they say he
+never parted with it, night or day, but slept with it beside him on the
+pillow. Poor fellow! He was killed in a night attack by the Indians, set
+on by the British. He was in a hut with some other officers, and the
+sentry must have slept at his post, they supposed. They were surrounded,
+the house set on fire, and the officers all killed. One private escaped
+to tell the dreadful story, and he told of the gallant fight they made,
+and how Giles Hetherington fought for the life that was so dear to
+others. He defended the door while two of his comrades forced the window
+open, hoping to steal around and take the savages in the rear; but the
+window was watched, too, and these officers were shot down, and then an
+Indian sprang in at the window, and stabbed Hetherington in the back.
+Ah, me! It is a terrible story, dear child! He staggered back to the
+bed, the soldier said, and caught up the belt, that was lying there
+while he slept. He was past speech, but he gave it to this soldier, who
+was a lad from this place, and motioned him to the window; then he fell
+back dead, and the man crept out of the window,--the Indians having run
+around to the front,--and crawled off, lying flat in the grass, and so
+escaped with his life. He brought the belt, all dabbled with blood, back
+to Fernley, meaning to give it to Madam Montfort quietly, that she might
+break the news to her daughter, but poor Phoebe chanced to come through
+the garden just as he was standing on the steps with the belt in his
+hand, and she saw it."
+
+"Oh! oh, dear!" cried Margaret, clasping her hands. "Aunt Faith, it is
+too dreadful! How could she bear it?"
+
+"My dear, she could not bear it. She had not the strength. She did not
+lose her mind, like poor Aunt Penelope, but really, it might almost have
+been as well if she had, poor soul. When she woke from the long swoon
+into which she had fallen at sight of the belt, she heard all the story
+through without a word, and then she came here, and left the world."
+
+"Came here?" repeated Margaret.
+
+"Here, to these rooms; but what different rooms! She sent for a painter,
+and had the walls painted black. She had everything with an atom of
+colour in it taken away; and in these black rooms she lived, and in them
+she died. She wept so much--partly that, and partly the want of
+light--that her eyes became abnormally sensitive, and she could not bear
+even to see anything white. As time went on--Margaret, you will hardly
+believe this, but it is literally true--she would not even have white
+china on her table. She declared it hurt her eyes. So her father, who
+could refuse her nothing, sent for a set of dark brown china, and she
+ate brown bread on it,--would not look at white bread,--and was served
+by a mulatto woman, an old nurse who had been in the family from her
+childhood."
+
+"Aunt Faith, can it be--you say it really is true! but--how could they
+let her? Why did they not have an oculist?"
+
+"My dear child, oculists did not exist in those days. If she were living
+to-day, it would be pronounced a case of nervous exhaustion, and she
+would be taken for a sea voyage, or sent to a rest-cure, or treated in
+one of the hundred different ways that we know of nowadays. But then,
+nobody knew what to do for her, poor lady. To be 'crossed in love,' as
+it was called, was a thing that admitted of no cure, unless the patient
+were willing to be cured. People spoke of Phoebe Montfort under their
+breath, and called her 'a blight,' meaning a person whose life has been
+blighted. The world has gone on a good deal in the two generations since
+then, my dear Margaret."
+
+"I should think so," said Margaret; "poor soul! And did she have to live
+very long, Aunt Faith? I hope not!"
+
+"A good many years, my dear. She must have been an elderly woman when
+she died; not old, as I count age, but perhaps seventy-five, or
+thereabouts. I lived far away at that time, but John Montfort has often
+told me of the time of her death. He was a little lad, and he regarded
+the Black Rooms and their tenant with the utmost terror. He used to run
+past the door, he says, for fear the Black Aunt should come out and
+seize him, and take him into her dreary dwelling. Poor Aunt Phoebe was
+the mildest creature in the world, and would not have hurt a fly, but to
+him she was something awful,--out of nature. He was taken in to see her
+once or twice a year, and he always had nightmare after it, being a
+nervous child. Well, one day he was running through the Green Parlour
+here, and looking back at the windows of the Black Rooms, as he never
+could help doing; and he saw Rosalie, the coloured woman, come to the
+window and throw it wide open, letting in the full light of day. Then
+she went to the next, and so on; and the child knew what had happened
+before she spoke. I remember her words:
+
+"'She's gone, honey! Her sperit's gone. It went out'n dis window,
+straight by whar you's standin', and into the cedar bush. De Lord hab
+mercy!'
+
+"And poor little John took to his heels, and ran, and never stopped
+running till he was in his own bed upstairs.
+
+"That is the story, Margaret; but I ought to add that the belt of hair
+was laid in the grave with her, at her special request."
+
+"What a sad, sad story! Poor soul! Poor, forlorn, tortured soul! How
+glad she must have been to go! Aunt Faith--"
+
+"Yes, dear Margaret!"
+
+"Oh, nothing,--only--it seems dreadful sometimes, to feel that terrible
+things may be coming, coming toward one, and that one never can look
+forward, never know when they may come! I sometimes think, if I could
+see a year ahead, or even a week,--but one never knows. I suppose it is
+best, or it would not be!"
+
+"Assuredly, dear child! When you think a little more, you will see the
+wisdom and the mercy of it. How could we go steadfastly along our path
+of every day, if some day we saw a pit at the farther end? Life would be
+impossible, Margaret."
+
+"Yes, I--I suppose so!" said Margaret thoughtfully.
+
+"And all the time," Mrs. Cheriton went on, "all the time, during the
+clear, calm days and years, my child, we are, or we ought to be, laying
+by, as it were; storing up light and strength and happiness for the dark
+days when we may so deeply need them. Think a moment! Think of all the
+happy days and years with your father! They are blessed memories, are
+they not, Margaret? every day is like a jewel that you take out and look
+at, and then put back in its case; you never lose these precious things
+that are all your own!"
+
+"Oh, never! oh, how well you know, Aunt Faith! how you must have felt it
+all!" The girl raised her head, and saw the face of the aged woman
+transfigured with light and beauty. She also was looking back through
+the years,--who could tell how long!
+
+"But suppose,"--it was still she who spoke,--"suppose now, Margaret,
+that these memories were other than they are! Suppose that instead of
+the blessed golden days, you had days of storm and anger and
+disagreement to look back on; that there had been unkindness on one
+side, unfaithfulness on the other; suppose it had been with you and your
+father as it has been with some parents and children that I have
+known,--how then?"
+
+"Oh!" murmured Margaret, her eyes filling with tears, that yet had no
+bitterness in them; "but it could not have been so, Aunt Faith. Papa
+was an angel, you know; an angel of goodness and love."
+
+"Now you see what I mean by storing up light against the dark days,"
+said Mrs. Cheriton. "If he had not been loving and good,--and if you,
+too, had not been a good and dear daughter,--think what your possessions
+would be to-day. As it is, you have what can never be taken from you;
+and so if we go on steadfastly, as I said, content not to see before us,
+but cherishing and making the best of what we have to-day, the best of
+what to-day holds will be ours forever, till death comes to end all the
+partings and all the sorrow."
+
+The last words were spoken rather to herself than to Margaret. The
+latter sat still, not daring to speak; for it seemed as if some
+beautiful vision were passing before the eyes of the old woman. She sat
+looking a little upward, with her lips slightly parted, the breath
+coming and going so softly that one could not perceive it, her hands
+clasped in her lap. Now the lips moved, and Margaret heard the low words
+of a prayer, rather breathed than whispered. Another moment, and the
+brown eyes grew bright and smiling once more, and the kindly gaze fell
+on the girl, who sat awestruck, half afraid to breathe.
+
+"My poor Margaret!" said Mrs. Cheriton quickly. "My poor little girl, I
+have frightened you. Dear, when one is so old as I am the veil seems
+very thin, and I often look half through it and feel the air from the
+other side. But you--you must not stay here too long, you must not be
+saddened by an old woman's moods. You love to stay, and I love to have
+you, but it must not be too long. I will just tell you about the change
+in the rooms, and then--well, the Black Rooms remained shut up for many,
+many years after Aunt Phoebe's death. Indeed, I fancy they were never
+used until after your grandfather's death, when the property was
+divided, and your Uncle John took Fernley as his share. Then one of the
+first things he did was to throw open these rooms, send for a painter,
+and have them painted white from floor to ceiling, as you see. He had no
+use for them at that time, but he has told me that he did not like to be
+in the same house with anything black. Everything burnable was
+burned,--for your grandfather, as long as he lived, kept Aunt Phoebe's
+belongings just as she left them,--the brown crockery was smashed--"
+
+"Oh, that was a pity!" cried Margaret. "Just for the curiosity--"
+
+"I have a piece, my dear!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "Elizabeth Wilson--good
+Elizabeth--saved a piece for me; and she kept one of the black silk
+gowns (she has been in the house ever since she was a child), to put in
+the family chest. So there, Margaret, you have the story of Aunt Phoebe
+from beginning to end. And now you must go out and play."
+
+"Oh, just a moment!" pleaded Margaret. "Aunt Faith,--Uncle John must be
+_very_ nice."
+
+"My dear, he is the best man in the world. There is not a doubt about
+it."
+
+"Shall we see him at all, Aunt Faith?"
+
+"You shall see him. I cannot say exactly when, but you shall see him,
+Margaret; that I promise you on the word of a centenarian. Now will you
+go, or shall Janet--"
+
+"Oh, I will go! I will go! Good-bye, dear Aunt Faith. I have had the
+most delightful hour," and Janet came and closed the white door softly
+after her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HEROES AND HEROINES.
+
+
+    "Oh for a knight like Bayard,
+    Without reproach or fear!"
+
+"How to support life on such a day as this?" demanded Rita, coming out
+of her room, and confronting her cousins as they came upstairs. She had
+been asleep, and her dark eyes were still misty and vague. The others,
+on the contrary, had been running in the rain, and they were all
+a-tingle with life and fresh air, and a-twinkle with rain-drops. The
+moment was not a good one, and Rita's straight brows drew together
+ominously.
+
+"You have been--amusing yourselves, it appears," she said, in the old
+withering tone that they were learning to forget. "Of course, here
+nothing matters; one may as well be a savage as an _elegante_ in the
+wilderness; but I should be sorry to meet you in Havana, my cousins!"
+
+Peggy hung her head, and tried to keep her muddy feet out of sight.
+Margaret only laughed, and held up her petticoats higher.
+
+"You ought to have been with us, Rita!" she said. "We have had great
+fun. The garden is one great shower-bath, and the brook is roaring like
+a baby lion. I am really beginning to learn how to walk in wet feet, am
+I not, Peggy? I used to think I should die if my feet were wet. It is
+really delightful to feel the water go 'plop!' in and out of one's
+boots. Now, my dear," she added, "I really cannot let you be cross,
+because Peggy and I are in the most delightful good humour, and we came
+in on purpose, because we thought you would be awake, and would want to
+be amused. If you frown, Rita, I shall kiss you, all dripping wet, and
+you know you could not bear that."
+
+She advanced, holding up her rosy, shining face, down which the drops
+were still streaming. Rita uttered a shriek and vanished.
+
+"I don't see how you can talk to her that way," said Peggy admiringly.
+"When she opens her eyes at me, and pulls her eyebrows together, I feel
+about two inches high and three years old. You are brave in your own
+way, Margaret, if you can't pull people out of bogs."
+
+Margaret laughed again. "My dear, I found it was the only way," she
+said. "If I let her ride over me--" Here she stopped suddenly, and with
+a change of tone bade Peggy hasten to change her wet clothes. "It is all
+very fine to get wet," she said, "and I am grateful for the lesson,
+Peggy; but I know that one _must_ change when she comes in."
+
+Peggy made a grimace, and said that at home she was often wet through
+from morning till night, and nobody cared; but Margaret resolutely
+pushed her into her room and shut the door, before going on to her own.
+
+In a few minutes both girls, dry and freshly clad, knocked at Rita's
+door; and though her "Come in" still sounded rather sullen, it was yet a
+distinct invitation, and they entered. Rita had made this room over in
+her own way, much to Elizabeth's inconvenience. The chintz curtains were
+almost covered with little flags, emblems, feathery grasses, and the
+like, pinned here and there in picturesque confusion. A large Cuban flag
+draped the mantelpiece, and portraits of the Cuban leaders adorned the
+walls. Over the dressing-table was the great scarlet fan which had
+played such a conspicuous part in the drama of "_Cuba Libre_," and it
+was pinned to the wall with a dagger of splendid and alarming
+appearance. The mirror was completely framed in photographs, mostly of
+dark-eyed senoritas in somewhat exaggerated toilets. Inscriptions in
+every variety of sprawling hand testified to the undying love of
+Conchita, Dolores, Manuela, and a dozen others, for their all-beautiful
+Margarita, to part from whom was death.
+
+If this were literally true, the youthful population of Cuba must have
+been sensibly diminished by Rita's departure. There were black-browed
+youths, too, some gazing tenderly, some scowling fiercely, all wearing
+the Cuban ribbon with all possible ostentation. One of these youths was
+manifestly Carlos Montfort, Rita's brother, for they were like enough to
+have been twins; another had been pointed out to Margaret, in a whisper
+charged with dramatic meaning, as "Fernando," the cousin on her mother's
+side, the handsomest man in Havana, and the most fascinating. Margaret
+looked coolly enough at this devastator of hearts, and thought that her
+own cousin Carlos was far handsomer. Peggy thought so, too; indeed, her
+susceptible sixteen-year-old heart was deeply impressed by Cousin
+Carlos's appearance, and she would often steal into the room during
+Rita's absence, to peep and sigh at the delicate, high-bred face, with
+its flashing dark eyes, and the hair that grew low on the forehead, with
+just the same tendril curls that made Rita's hair so lovely. Oh! Peggy
+would think, if her own hair were only dark, or even brown,--anything
+but this disgusting, wishy-washy flaxen. She had longed for dark eyes
+and hair ever since she could remember. Poor Peggy! But she kept her
+little romance to herself, and indeed it was a very harmless one, and
+helped her a good deal about keeping her hair neat and her shoe-strings
+tied.
+
+When the girls went in now, they found Rita curled up on her sofa, with
+the robe and pillow of chinchilla fur that had come with her from Cuba.
+It was a bad sign, Margaret had learned, when the furs came out in warm
+weather. It meant a headache generally, and at any rate a chilly state
+of body, which was apt to be accompanied by a peevish state of mind.
+Still, she looked so pretty, peeping out of the soft gray nest! She was
+such a child, after all, in spite of her seventeen years,--decidedly,
+she must be amused.
+
+"Well," said Rita, half dolefully, half crossly, "I cannot command
+solitude, it appears. I am desolated; I desire to die, while this
+frightful rain pours down, but I cannot die alone; that is not suffered
+me."
+
+"Certainly not," replied Margaret cheerfully. "Don't die yet, please,
+dear, but when you feel that you must, we will be at hand to take your
+last wishes, won't we, Peggy?"
+
+But Peggy thought Margaret cruel, and could only look at Rita
+remorsefully, feeling that she had sinned, she knew not how.
+
+"And how are we to amuse ourselves?" added Margaret, seating herself on
+the couch at Rita's feet. "I think we must tell stories; it is a perfect
+day for stories. Oh, Peggy, don't you want to get my knitting, like the
+dear good child you are? I cannot listen well unless I have my
+knitting."
+
+Peggy brought the great pink and gray blanket which had been Margaret's
+friend and companion for several months, and with it her own diminutive
+piece of work, a doily that she was supposed to be embroidering. Rita
+lay watching them with bright eyes, her eyebrows still nearer together
+than was desirable. At last, "Well," she said again. There was
+impatience and irritation in the tone, but there was interest, too.
+
+"Well," replied Margaret, "I was only thinking what would be pleasantest
+to do; there are so many things. How would it do for each of us to tell
+a story,--a heroic story, such as will stand the rain, and not be afraid
+of a wetting?"
+
+"Of our own deeds?" inquired Rita.
+
+"Oh, perhaps hardly that. If I waited to find a heroic deed of my own
+performance, you might get tired, my dear. Somehow heroics do not come
+every day, as they used in story times. But I can tell you one of my
+father. Will you hear it?"
+
+Rita nodded languidly; Peggy looked up eagerly.
+
+"It was in the great Blankton fire," said Margaret. "I don't suppose
+you know about it, Rita, but Peggy may have heard. No? Well, the country
+is very big, after all. It seems as if all the world must have heard of
+that fire. I was hardly more than a baby at the time, but I remember
+seeing the red glare, and thinking that we were not going to have any
+night that time, as the sun was getting up again as soon as he had gone
+to bed. We were living in Blankton that winter, for papa had some work
+that made it necessary for him to be near the Blankton libraries;
+Historical Society work, you know, as so much of his work was." She
+paused for some appreciative word, but none came. Apparently neither of
+her cousins had heard of the Historical Society, which had played so
+large a part in her father's life and her own.
+
+"The whole sky was like blood!" she went on; "and when the smoke-clouds
+that hung low over the city blew aside, we could see the flames darting
+up, high, high, like pillars and spires. Oh! it was a beautiful,
+dreadful sight! I watched it, baby as I was, with delight. I never
+thought that my own father was in all that terrible glow and furnace,
+and that he came near losing his precious life to save another's."
+
+"How?" cried Peggy, roused at the mention of saving life. "Did he start
+another fire to meet it?"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" cried Margaret, in her turn failing to appreciate the
+Western point of view. "He tried to help put it out at first in the
+building where he was, and when he saw that was impossible, he went to
+work getting out his books and papers. They were very, very valuable; no
+money could have bought some of them, he said, for they were original
+documents, and in some cases there were no duplicates. They were Papa's
+treasures,--more to him than twenty fortunes. So he began taking them
+out, slowly and carefully, thinking he had plenty of time. But after he
+had taken out the first load, he heard cries and groans in a room near
+his own office, and going in, he found an old man, a wretched old miser
+that lived there all alone, in dirt and misery, though every one knew he
+was immensely rich. He seemed to have gone out of his mind with fright,
+and there he sat, his hands full of notes and bonds and things,
+screaming and crying, and saying that he could not go out, for he would
+be robbed, and he must stay there and burn to death. Papa tried to
+reason with him, but he would not listen, only screamed louder, and
+called Papa a robber when he tried to take the papers from him. Then
+Papa called to the men who were passing by to help him, but they were
+all so busy saving their own things, they could not stop, I suppose, or
+at any rate, they did not; and all the time the fire was coming nearer,
+and the smoke was getting thicker and thicker. Somebody who knew Papa
+called to him that the fire had reached his entry, and that in five
+minutes his office would be in flames. He started to run, thinking he
+could get out a few precious books, and let the others go while he got
+the old man out; but this time the poor old soul clung to him, and
+begged not to be left to burn, and looking out into the hall, Papa saw
+the smoke-cloud all shot with flame, and bright tongues licking along
+the walls toward him. So he took the old man by the arm and tried to
+lead him out, but he screamed that his box must go too, his precious
+box, or he should die of grief. That was his strong-box, and it was too
+heavy for him to lift, so he sat down beside it, hugging it, and saying
+that he would never leave it. Poor Papa was at his wit's end, for at any
+moment they might be surrounded and cut off from the stairs. So he
+heaved up the box and threw it out of the window, and then he took the
+old miser on his back and ran for his life. Oh, girls, there was only
+just time! He had to run through the fire, and his hair and beard were
+singed, and his clothes; but he got through, half blinded and choked,
+and almost strangled, too, for the old miser was clutching his throat
+all the time, and screaming out that he had murdered him."
+
+"Why did he not drop him?" inquired Rita. "My faith, why should he be
+saved, the old vegetable?"
+
+"Oh, Rita, you don't know what you are saying. It was a human life, and
+of course he _had_ to save it; but it did seem cruel that the precious
+books and papers had to be sacrificed for just wretched money. That was
+the heroic part of it,--Papa's leaving the things that meant more to him
+than anything in the world, except me and his friends, and saving the
+old miser's money."
+
+"If he could have saved him and the books, and let the money go to
+Jericho!" said Peggy; "but I suppose he couldn't."
+
+"That was just it! The man was really out of his mind, you see, and if
+Papa had left him he might have run into the fire, or jumped out of the
+window, or done any other crazy thing. Well, that is my story, girls.
+Who shall come next,--you, Rita?"
+
+Rita had been only partly roused by the story of the fire. An uncle
+saving a dirty old man and his money did not specially appeal to her;
+the hero should have been young and ardent, and should have saved a lady
+from the burning house. Peggy wanted to be responsive, but it seemed a
+great fuss to make over musty old books and papers; probably they were
+like those that Margaret made such a time about in the library here;
+Peggy had looked at some of them, and they were as dry as dry could be.
+If he had saved a dog, now, or a child,--and at the thought her eyes
+brightened.
+
+"Do heroines count," she asked; "or must it be a man?"
+
+"Of course they count!" cried Margaret, bending over her work to hide
+the tears that came to her eyes. She felt the glow checked in her
+heart,--knew that her story, her beloved story, had not struck the note
+that always thrilled her when she saw in thought her father, slender,
+gray-haired, carrying out the strange man, and leaving behind him,
+without a word, the fruits of years of toil.
+
+"Of course heroines count, my dear! Have you one for us?"
+
+"Ma did something nice once," said Peggy shyly; "she saved my life when
+I was a baby."
+
+"Tell us!" cried both girls, and Rita's eyes brightened, for this seemed
+to promise better.
+
+"It was when Pa first took up the claim," said Peggy. "The country was
+pretty wild then,--Indians about, and a good many big beasts: panthers,
+and mountain lions, and so on. I was the only girl, and I was two years
+old. Pa used to be out on the claim all day, and the boys with him, all
+except Hugh, and he was in bed at that time; and Ma used to work in the
+garden, and keep me by her so that I wouldn't get into mischief.
+
+"One day she was picking currants, and I had been sitting by her,
+playing with some hollyhock flowers she had given me. She did not notice
+when I crawled away, but suddenly she heard me give a queer sort of
+scream. She turned round, and there was a big panther dragging me off
+down the garden path by my dress. Ma felt as if she was dead for a
+minute; but then she ran back to the seed-house--it was only a few steps
+off--and got a hoe that she knew was there, and tore off after the
+panther. It wasn't going very fast, for I was a pretty heavy baby, and
+it didn't know at first that any one was after it. When it heard Ma
+coming it started off quicker, and had almost got to the woods when she
+caught up. Ma raised that hoe and brought it down on the beast's head as
+hard as she knew how. It dropped me, and turned on her, grinning and
+snarling, and curling its claws all ready for a spring. She never
+stopped to draw breath; she raised the hoe again, and that time, she
+says, she prayed to the swing of it; and she brought it down, and heard
+the creature's skull go crash under it, and felt the hoe sink in. The
+panther gave a scream and rolled over, and then Ma rolled over too; and
+when Pa came home to dinner, a few minutes later, they were both lying
+there still, and I was trying to pick up my hollyhock flowers. We have
+never had hollyhocks since then; Ma can't bear 'em."
+
+There was no doubt about the effect of Peggy's story. Before it was
+finished Rita was sitting bolt upright, her chinchilla robe thrown back,
+her hands clasped over her knee, her eyes alight with interest; and
+Margaret cried, "Oh, Peggy, Peggy, what a splendid story!"
+
+"Well, it's true!" said Peggy.
+
+"Of course it is; that's the splendid part. Oh, I am so proud to have an
+aunt so brave and strong. Aunt--why, Peggy, you have never told me your
+mother's name!"
+
+"You never asked," said Peggy. "Her name is Susan."
+
+Margaret blushed, and mentally applied the scourge to herself. It was
+true; she never had asked. Peggy had said that her mother had no
+education, and had got along very well without it; this was all that
+Margaret wanted to know. A shallow, ignorant woman, who had let her
+child grow up in such ignorance as Peggy's; and now she learned, all in
+a moment, of a strong, brave woman, helping her husband to clear the
+waste where their home was to be, making that home, bringing up her
+great family in love and rude plenty, and killing wild beasts with her
+own hard, honest hand. Margaret was learning a good deal this summer,
+and this was one of the most salutary lessons. She bowed her head and
+accepted it, but she only said aloud:
+
+"Aunt Susan! I hope I shall know her some day. I shall put her in my
+heroine book, Peggy, from this minute." And the tone was so warm and
+hearty that Peggy's eyes filled with tears, and she felt dimly that she,
+too, had been neglectful of "Ma" of late, and resolved to write a good
+long letter that very afternoon.
+
+"And now it is your turn, Rita!" said Margaret. "I give you till I knit
+to the end of this row to find a hero or heroine in your family. You
+must have plenty of them."
+
+Rita laughed, and curled herself into another graceful, sinuous
+attitude. Her eyes shone. "My brother Carlos is in the mountains," she
+said; "my cousin Fernando with him. Pouf! if I were with them!"
+
+She was silent a moment, and then went on, speaking slowly, and pausing
+every few minutes to blow little holes in her chinchilla robe, a
+favourite amusement of hers.
+
+"The San Reals have plenty of heroes, heroines too; my mother was a San
+Real, you remember. What will you have, Marguerite? Far back, an
+ancestor of mine was the most beautiful woman in Spain. Her lover was
+seized by the Inquisition; she went to the Tribunal, accused herself,
+and died in his place. Will you have her for a heroine? My
+great-grandfather--he was a Grandee of Spain. The nephew of the king
+insulted him to the death, and thought his rank made him safe. He was
+found dead the next morning, and my great-grandfather lay dead beside
+him, with the dagger in his heart that had first slain the prince. Is he
+a hero such as you love, Marguerite?"
+
+"No, not at all!" cried Margaret, "Rita, what dreadful tales! Those were
+the dark days, when people did not know better; but surely you must
+have some ancestors who were not murd--who did not die violent deaths."
+
+"They are San Reals!" said Rita. "They had royal blood of Spain in their
+veins. Cold, thin, Northern blood cannot warm to true heroism." She
+sulked for some time after this, and refused to say anything more; but
+desire of imparting was strong in her, and Margaret's smile could not be
+resisted indefinitely.
+
+"Come!" she said. "You meant no harm, Marguerite; you cannot understand
+me or my people, but I should have known it, and your birth is not your
+fault. Listen, then, and see if this will please you."
+
+She seemed to meditate for some time, and when she spoke again it was
+still more slowly, as if she were choosing her words.
+
+"Once on a time,--no matter when,--there was a war. A cruel, unjust,
+devilish war, when the people of--when my people were ground to the
+earth, tortured, annihilated. All that was right and true and good was
+on one side; on the other, all that was base and brutal and horrible.
+There was no good, none! they are--they were devils, allowed to come to
+earth,--who can tell why?
+
+"The--the army of my people had suffered; they were in need of many
+things, of food, of shoes, but most of all of arms. The whole nation
+cried for bloodshed, and there were not arms for the half of them. How
+to get weapons? Near by there was another country, but a short way
+across the water--"
+
+"Africa?" asked Peggy innocently. But Rita flashed at her with eyes and
+teeth.
+
+"If you will be silent, Calibana! Do I tell this story, or do you? have
+I mentioned a name?"
+
+"I beg pardon!" muttered poor Peggy. "I didn't mean to interrupt, Rita;
+I only thought Africa was the nearest to Spain across the water."
+
+Rita glowered at her, and continued. "This neighbour-country was rich,
+great, powerful; but her people were greedy, slothful, asleep. They had
+arms, they had food, money, everything. Did they help my people in their
+need? I tell you, no!"
+
+She almost shrieked the last words, and Margaret looked up in some
+alarm, but concluding that Rita was merely working herself up to a
+dramatic crisis, she went on with her knitting.
+
+"To this rich, slothful country," Rita went on, dwelling on every
+adjective with infinite relish, "came a girl, a daughter of the country
+that was bleeding, dying. She was young; she had fire in her veins
+instead of blood; she was a San Real. She stayed in a house--a
+place--near the seashore, a house empty for the great part; full of
+rooms, empty of persons. The thought came to her,--Here I could conceal
+arms, could preserve them for my country, could deliver them to vessels
+coming by sea. It is a night expedition, it is a little daring, a little
+valour, the risk of my life,--what is that? I could arm my country, my
+brothers, against the tyrants. I could--" Rita paused, and both girls
+looked at her in amazement. She had risen from the couch, and now stood
+in the middle of the room; her slender form quivered with emotion; her
+great eyes shone with dark fire; her voice vibrated on their ears with
+new and powerful cadences.
+
+"This girl--was alone. She needed help. With her in the house were
+others, her friends, but knowing little of her heart. Their blood
+flowed slowly, coldly; they were good, they were kind, but--would they
+help her? Would they brave danger for her sake, for the sake of the
+country that was dearer to her than life? Alone she was but one, with
+their aid--
+
+"Listen! there came one day a letter to this house by the sea; it was
+for--for the person of whom I speak. Her brother was near, in a city not
+far off. He had come to collect arms, he had bought them, he must find a
+place to conceal them. Her dream was about to come true. She turned to
+her friends, the two whom she loved! She opened her arms, she opened her
+soul; she cried to them--"
+
+"Stop!" said Margaret. She, too, had risen to her feet, and her face was
+very pale. Peggy looked from one to the other in alarm. Were they going
+to quarrel? Margaret's eyes were as bright as Rita's, but their light
+was calm and penetrating, not flashing and glowing with passion.
+
+"Rita," she said, "I hope--I trust I am entirely wrong in what I cannot
+help thinking. I trust this is a story, and nothing else. It cannot be
+anything else!" she continued, her voice gaining firmness as she went
+on. "We are here in our uncle's house. He is away, he has left us in
+charge, having confidence in his brothers' daughters. If--if
+anything--if anybody should plan such a thing as you suggest, it would
+not only be ungrateful, it would be base. I could not harbour such a
+thought for an instant. Oh, I hope I wrong you! I hope it was only a
+dramatic fancy. Tell me that it was, my dear, and I will beg your pardon
+most humbly."
+
+She paused for an answer, but Rita made none for the moment.
+
+She stood silent, the very soul of passion, her eyes dilating, her lips
+apart, her breast heaving with the furious words that her will would not
+suffer to escape. Margaret almost thought she would spring upon her,
+like the wild creature she seemed. But presently a change came over the
+Cuban girl. A veil gathered over the glowing eyes; her hands unclenched
+themselves, opened softly; her whole frame seemed to relax its tension,
+and in another moment she dropped on her couch with a low laugh.
+
+"_Chere Marguerite_," she said, "you, too, were born for the stage. Your
+climax, it was magnificent, _tres chere_; pity that you spoiled it with
+an anti-climax." And she shrugged her shoulders. "My poor little story!
+You would not even let me finish it. No matter; perhaps it has no end;
+perhaps I was but trying to see if I could put life into you, statues
+that you are. Ah, it was a pretty story, if I could have been permitted
+to finish it!"
+
+Margaret turned scarlet. "My dear, if I have been rude," she said, "I am
+very sorry, Rita; I thought--"
+
+"You thought!" said Rita, her full voice dropping the words scornfully,
+in a way that was hard to bear. "Your thoughts are very valuable, _tres
+chere_; I must not claim too many of them; they would be wasted on a
+poor patriot like me. And thou, Peggy, how didst thou like my story,
+eh?"
+
+Rita turned so suddenly on Peggy that the poor child had not time to
+shut her mouth, which had been open in sheer amazement.
+
+"Shut it!" said Rita sharply. "Is it a whale, or the Gulf of Mexico? I
+asked how you like my story, little stupid. Have you had sense to attend
+to it?"
+
+Peggy's eyes filled with tears. A month ago she would have answered
+angrily, but now Rita was her goddess, and she could only weep at a
+harsh word from her.
+
+"I--I think it is fine for a story, Rita," she answered slowly. "I loved
+to hear it. But--" Her blue eyes wandered helplessly for a moment, then
+met Margaret's steady gaze, and settled. "But if such a thing were true,
+Margaret would be right, wouldn't she?"
+
+"And if you removed yourselves now?" queried Rita, turning her back to
+them with a sudden fling of the fur robe over her shoulder. "One must
+sleep in this place, or be talked to death, it appears. I choose sleep.
+My ears ring at present as with the sound of the sea,--a sea of cold
+babble! _Adios_, Senorita Calibana, Dona Fish-blood! I pray for relief!"
+
+Margaret took Peggy's hand without a word, and they went out; but Peggy
+cried till dinner-time, and would not be comforted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+IN THE SADDLE.
+
+
+     "To witch the world with noble horsemanship."
+
+Rita's "story" was not the first thing to rouse suspicion in Margaret's
+mind. It was rather the concluding word of a sentence that had been
+forming in her mind during the last ten days.
+
+Something was on foot; some mystery hung about; she had felt thus much,
+and had felt, too, that it was connected with Rita; but all had been
+vague, uncertain.
+
+Rita had been receiving many letters with the New York postmark; but
+what of that? It was not Margaret's business to take notice of her
+cousin's letters. She had met Rita once or twice at the foot of the
+garret stairs, evidently returning from a visit to that place of shadowy
+delight. What of that? Rita had said each time that she had been looking
+for such and such a costume; that she was planning a charade, a new
+tableau, that would be sure to ravish her cousins; and in the evening
+she would produce the charade or the tableau, and sure enough, it would
+be enchanting, and they were delighted, and most grateful to her for the
+pains she took to amuse them. And yet--and yet--had she been at these
+pains until lately? Had not Margaret herself been the one who must think
+of the evening's amusement, plan the game, the reading, or singing,
+which should keep the three various natures in harmonious accord? So it
+had surely been, until these last ten days; and now--
+
+But how hateful to suspect, when it might be that Rita was merely
+feeling that perhaps she had not done her share, and had realised that
+with her great talent and her lovely voice and presence, she was the one
+to plan and execute their little entertainments? And what should
+Margaret suspect? It was not her nature to be anything but trustful of
+those around her; and yet--and yet--
+
+But now her suspicions had taken definite shape, and Rita herself had
+confirmed them. There could no longer be any doubt that she was
+planning to take advantage of their uncle's continued absence to aid her
+brother,--who was in New York, as Margaret knew, in spite of Rita's
+recent declaration that he was in the mountains,--and to conceal arms in
+Fernley House, and have them shipped from there. It seemed impossible;
+it seemed a thing out of a play or a novel, but she could not doubt the
+fact. After all, Rita was a person for a play or a novel. This thing,
+which to Margaret seemed unspeakable, was to Rita but a natural impulse
+of patriotism, a piece of heroism.
+
+Of course she would not be able to do it; no person in her senses would
+attempt such a thing, on Long Island, only a few miles from New York;
+but the hot-blooded young Cubans would not realise that, and they might
+make some attempt which, though futile, would bring disagreeable
+consequences to Mr. Montfort and to all concerned. What was Margaret to
+do? The absurdity of the whole thing presented itself to her keenly, and
+she would have been glad enough to turn it all into a jest, and take it
+as the "story" with which Rita had tried to rouse her cool-blooded
+cousins; but that could not be. Rita had meant every word she said, and
+more; that was evident. What was Margaret to do? Her first thought was
+of Mrs. Cheriton; her second of John Strong, the gardener. Aunt Faith
+ought not, she was sure, to be disturbed or made anxious; her hold on
+life was too slender; her days must flow evenly and peacefully, as Uncle
+John had arranged them for her; it would never do to tell her of this
+threatened, fantastic danger. But John Strong! he was Mr. Montfort's
+confidential servant, almost his friend. Nay, Aunt Faith had spoken of
+him as "a good friend," simply and earnestly. He knew Uncle John's
+address, no doubt; he would give it to her, or write himself, as seemed
+best. It was dreadful to betray her cousin, but these were not the days
+of melodrama, and it was quite clear that Fernley House could not be
+made a deposit of arms for the Cuban insurgents during its master's
+absence. So with a clear conscience, though a heavy heart, Margaret
+sought the garden.
+
+John Strong was there, as he always was in the morning, fondling his
+roses, clipping, pruning, tying up, and setting out. In the afternoons
+he was never visible. Margaret had heard his voice occasionally in Mrs.
+Cheriton's rooms, but had never seen him there; he had evidently other
+work, or other haunts of his own, which kept him out of the way. She
+could not help knowing that he used her uncle's private sitting-room,
+but she took it for granted that it was with Mr. Montfort's leave and
+for his business. Rita might mistrust this man; but no one of Northern
+blood could look on the strong, quiet face without feeling that it was
+that of one of nature's noblemen, at least.
+
+"John," said Margaret, after she had admired the roses and listened to a
+brief but eloquent dissertation upon Catherine Mermet and Marechal Niel,
+"how near are we to the sea?"
+
+"To the sea, Miss Margaret? Call it a quarter of a mile. The rise of the
+land hides it from Fernley, but you will notice that we are near, by the
+sound of it; and you have been down to the shore a number of times, I
+think."
+
+"Yes; oh, yes! I know it is very near. I was only thinking--John, would
+it be easy for--persons--to come here from the shore, without being
+seen? I mean, could a vessel lie off here and not attract attention?"
+
+John Strong looked at her keenly. "That depends, Miss," he said. "By
+day, no; by night, yes. It is a quiet part of the shore, you see."
+
+"Do you know when Mr. Montfort is coming home?" was Margaret's next
+question; and as she put it she looked straight into the gardener's
+brown eyes, and they looked straight into hers. She fancied that John
+Strong changed colour a little.
+
+"I have not heard from him lately," he said quietly. "I think he will be
+here very soon now. Could I--may I ask if anything is distressing you,
+my--Miss Margaret?"
+
+Margaret hesitated. The temptation was strong upon her to tell the whole
+tale to this man, whom she felt she could trust entirely; but the
+thought of Rita held her back. She would say what was necessary, and no
+more.
+
+"I--I think--" she began timidly, "it might be well for you to be
+watchful at night, John. The Cubans--I have heard rumours--there might
+be vessels,--do you think, possibly--"
+
+She broke off. The whole thing seemed like a nursery nightmare,
+impossible to put into plain English without exposing its absurdity. But
+John Strong glanced at her again, and his eyes were grave.
+
+"Miss Rita is deeply interested in the Cuban war, I believe," he said,
+with meaning.
+
+Margaret started. "How did you know?" she asked. "Surely she has not--"
+
+John Strong laughed. "Hardly," he said. "Miss Rita does not converse
+with menials. It was Peggy--Miss Peggy, I should say--who told me about
+it. She was quite inclined to take fire herself, but I think I cooled
+her down a bit. These are dangerous matters for young ladies to meddle
+with. I think she told me that young Mr. Carlos Montfort was now in New
+York?"
+
+"I--I believe so," said Margaret. She was angry with Peggy for talking
+so freely, yet it was a great help to her now, for John Strong evidently
+understood more of the matter than she would have liked to tell him.
+
+"You may trust me, Miss Margaret, I think," he said presently, after a
+few moments of silent snipping. "It is not necessary for me to know
+anything in particular, even if there is anything to know. I am an old
+soldier, and used to keeping watch, and sleeping with one eye open. You
+may trust me. You have said nothing of this to Mrs. Cheriton?" He looked
+up quickly.
+
+"No; I thought she ought not to be distressed--"
+
+"That was right; that was very right. You have shown--that is, you may
+depend on me, young lady. May I cut this bud for you? It is a perfect
+one, if I may say so. Perhaps you will look closer at it, Miss; (Miss
+Rita is observing you from the balcony, and you would not wish)--there,
+Miss. I shall bring some cut flowers into the dining-room later, for
+arrangement, as you ask. Good morning, Miss."
+
+Margaret returned to the house, half relieved, half bewildered. John
+Strong was certainly a remarkable person. She did not understand his
+position here, which seemed far removed from that of a domestic, but
+after all, it was none of her business. And even if he did speak of
+Peggy by her first name, was it Margaret's place to reprove him? He was
+almost old enough to be Peggy's grandfather.
+
+Rita had apparently forgotten the storm of the day before. She was in
+high good humour, and greeted Margaret with effusion.
+
+"Just in time, Marguerite. Where have you been? We have called till we
+are hoarse. Look at us; we go to ride. We are to have an exhibition of
+skill, on the back of the white beast. Behold our costumes, found in the
+garret."
+
+Margaret looked, and laughed and admired. Rita was dressed in a long
+black velvet riding-habit, with gold buttons, a regal garment in its
+time, but now somewhat rubbed and worn; a tall hat of antique form
+perched upon her heavy braids, and she looked very businesslike. Peggy
+had found no such splendour, but had put on a scarlet military coat over
+her own bicycle skirt. "Finery is good," she said, "but not on
+horseback." A three-cornered hat, with the mouldering remains of a
+feather, completed her costume, and she announced herself as the
+gentleman of the party.
+
+"Rita was saying what a pity it was there were no boys here, and I told
+her I ought to have been a boy, and I would do my best now," said Peggy
+good-naturedly. Rita made a little grimace, as if this were not the
+kind of boy she desired, but she nodded kindly at Peggy, and said she
+was "fine."
+
+"And you, Marguerite? How will you appear? Will you find a cap and
+spectacles, and come as our grandmother? That would approve itself,
+_n'est-ce-pas_?" It was laughingly said, but the sting was there,
+nevertheless, and was meant to be felt.
+
+"Oh, I should delay you," replied Margaret. "Let me come as I am, and be
+ringmaster, or audience, or whatever you like. I never rode in my life,
+you know." Peggy opened wide her eyes, Rita curled her lip, but Margaret
+only laughed. "Frightful, isn't it? but how would you have me ride in my
+father's study? And the horses that went by our windows had mostly drays
+behind them, so they were not very tempting. Is William going to saddle
+White Eagle for you, girls?"
+
+"William has gone to the mill, or to bed, or somewhere," said Peggy. "I
+am going to saddle him myself. John Strong said I might."
+
+They went out to the great, pleasant barn, and while Peggy saddled the
+good horse, Rita and Margaret mounted the old swing, and went flying
+backward and forward between the great banks of fragrant hay.
+
+"Isn't it good to be a swallow?" said Margaret. "I wonder if we shall
+really fly some day; it really seems as if we might."
+
+"I would rather be an eagle," said Rita. "To flutter a little, here and
+there, and sleep in a barn,--that would not be a great life. An eagle,
+soaring over the field of battle,--aha! he is my bird! But what is this
+outcry? Has he bitten thee, Peggy?"
+
+For Peggy was shouting from below; yet when they listened, the shouts
+were of wonder and delight.
+
+"Oh, girls, do just look here! There is a new horse,--a colt! Oh, what a
+beauty!"
+
+The girls came down hastily, and ran to the door of the second box
+stall, which had been empty since they came. There stood a noble young
+horse, jet black, with a single white mark on his forehead. His coat
+shone like satin, his eyes beamed with friendly inquiry. Already Peggy
+had her head against his shoulder, and was murmuring admiration in his
+ear.
+
+"You lovely, you dear, beautiful thing, where did you come from? Oh,
+Margaret, isn't he a darling? Come and see him!"
+
+Margaret came in rather timidly; she was not used to animals, and the
+horse seemed very large, tramping about freely in his ample stall. But
+he received her so kindly, and put his nose in her pocket with such
+confiding grace, that her fears were soon conquered. Rita patted him
+graciously, but kept her distance. "Very fine, my dear, but the straw
+smells, and gets on one's clothes so. Saddle me this one, Peggy, and you
+can have the white one yourself."
+
+"Are we--have we leave to take this horse?" asked Margaret, colouring.
+It was too horrid that she must always play the dragon,--as if she liked
+it,--and of course the others thought she did.
+
+"Have we been forbidden to take the horse, dear?" asked Rita with
+dangerous sweetness. "No? But perhaps you were told to keep watch on us
+by your friend, the servant, who wears his master's clothes? Again, no?
+Then kindly permit me, at least, to do as I think best."
+
+"Oh, Rita!" cried Peggy, "perhaps we ought not--"
+
+"_Chut!_" cried Rita, flashing upon her in the way that always
+frightened Peggy out of her wits. "Do you saddle me the horse, or do I
+do it myself?"
+
+Margaret thought it was highly improbable that Rita could do it herself,
+but she said no more. A difficulty arose, however. There was found to be
+but one saddle. "Never mind!" said Peggy. "I can ride bareback just as
+well as saddleback; but I am afraid, Rita--"
+
+"Afraid!" cried Rita. "You too, Peggy? My faith, what a set!"
+
+"Afraid the saddle will not fit the black!" said Peggy, looking for once
+defiantly at her terrible cousin. "White Eagle is so big, you see; the
+saddle was made for him, and it slips right off this fellow's back."
+
+Rita fretted and stamped her pretty feet, and said various explosive
+things under her breath, and not so far under but that they could be
+heard pretty well, but all this did not avail to make the saddle smaller
+or the new horse bigger; so at last she was obliged to mount White
+Eagle, and to have the mortification of seeing Peggy vault lightly on
+the back of the black beauty. He had never been ridden before, perhaps;
+certainly he was not used to it, for he reared upright, and a less
+practised horsewoman than Peggy would have been thrown in an instant;
+but she sat like a rock, and stroked the horse between his ears, and
+patted his neck, and somehow wheedled him down on his four legs again.
+Margaret watched with breathless interest. This was all new to her. Rita
+looked graceful and beautiful, and rode with ease and skill, but Peggy
+was mistress of the situation. The black horse flew here and there,
+rearing, squealing with excitement, occasionally indulging in something
+suspiciously like a "buck;" but Peggy, unruffled, still coaxed and
+caressed him, and showed him so plainly that she was there to stay as
+long as she felt inclined, that after a while he gave up the struggle,
+and settling down into a long, smooth gallop, bore her away like the
+wind over the meadow and up the slope that lay beyond. Now they came to
+a low stone wall, and the watchers thought they would turn back; but
+Peggy lifted the black at it, and he went over like a bird. Next moment
+they were out of sight over the brow of the hill.
+
+[Illustration: HORSEBACK.]
+
+"Oh," cried Margaret, turning to Rita, her face aglow with pleasure,
+"wasn't that beautiful? Why, I had no idea the child could ride like
+that, had you? I never knew what riding was before."
+
+Rita tried to look contemptuous, but the look was not a success. "A
+gentlewoman does not require to ride like a stable-boy!" was all she
+said. She was evidently out of humour, so Margaret was silent, only
+watching the hill, to see when the pair would come galloping back over
+the brow.
+
+Here they were! Peggy was waving her hand--her hat had flown off at the
+first caracole, and Rita had ridden over it several times--and shouting
+in jubilation. Her hair flew loose over her shoulders, her short skirt
+was blown about in every direction, but her eyes were so bright, her
+face so rosy and joyous, that she was a pleasant sight to see, as,
+leaping the fence, she came sweeping along over the meadow.
+
+"Hail!" cried Margaret, when she came within hearing. "Hail, daughter of
+Chiron! gloriously ridden, O youthful Centauress!"
+
+Peggy did not know who Chiron was, but she caught the approving sound of
+the words, and waved her hand. "Come on, Rita!" she cried. "Take the
+Eagle over the fence! It's great fun. I'm going to try standing up in a
+minute, when he is a little more used to me."
+
+They set off at an easy gallop, and White Eagle took the fence well
+enough, though it was his first, and he was no colt, like the black.
+Then they circled round and round the meadow, sometimes neck and neck,
+sometimes one far in advance. Generally it was Peggy, for the black was
+far the swifter animal of the two; but now and then she pulled him in,
+like the good-natured girl she was, and let her cousin gallop ahead.
+Margaret watched them with delight, not a pang of envy disturbing her
+enjoyment. What a perfect thing it was! how enchanting to be one with
+your horse, and feel his strong being added to your own! How--
+
+But what was this? All in a minute, something happened. The black put
+his foot in a hole,--a woodchuck's burrow,--stumbled, pitched forward,
+and threw Peggy heavily to the ground. He recovered himself in a moment,
+and stood trembling; but Peggy lay still. Margaret was at her side in an
+instant. The child had struck her head on a stone, and was insensible,
+and bleeding profusely from a cut on the left temple. Rita dismounted
+and came near.
+
+"Some water, please!" said Margaret. "Bring water quickly, Rita, while I
+stop the bleeding. And give me your handkerchief, will you, before you
+go?" She held out one hand, which was already covered with blood;
+glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and trembling
+violently.
+
+"What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,--ill? hold her, then, and I
+will run."
+
+"No,--no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is--the blood! I cannot bear the
+sight. I will go--I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It is
+too terrible!"
+
+"Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently.
+
+"She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had some
+water, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!"
+
+Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought,
+yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steady
+hand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same moment
+Margaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blue
+eyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,--was Peggy giggling, even
+before she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously,
+afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and it
+was Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and--yes! undoubtedly
+laughing.
+
+"Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but with
+perfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I have
+come; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But--I say,
+Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I was
+dead?"
+
+"Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those people who faint at the sight
+of blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind you
+a bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!"
+
+"Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes.
+But--I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose--the rest
+of them--feel the same way about blood? because--"
+
+"Peggy, I am surprised at you!" said Margaret. "Hush this moment, or I
+will let your head drop!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+     "Quand on conspire, sans frayeur
+     Il faut se faire conspirateur;
+     Pour tout le monde il faut avoir
+     Perruque blonde, et collet noir!"
+
+Peggy's injury proved to be slight, as she herself had declared, but the
+jar had been considerable, and her head ached so that she was glad to be
+put to bed and nursed by Margaret. Rita hovered about, still very pale,
+and apparently much more disturbed by the accident than the actual
+sufferer. She put many questions: Would Peggy be well to-morrow?
+Probably still weak? Would it be necessary for her to remain in her room
+this evening? In that case, what would Margaret do? Would she leave her
+to Elizabeth's care, and come down as usual?
+
+"Certainly not!" Margaret replied. "Elizabeth will stay with Peggy at
+tea-time, but otherwise I shall not leave her. You don't mind staying
+alone, Rita? Of course, there is not much to be done; Peggy is not ill
+at all, only weak and tired, but she likes to have me with her. You will
+not be lonely?"
+
+No; Rita had letters to write. She should do very well. Desolated, of
+course, without the two who were her soul and her existence; but
+Margaret understood that she could not bear the sight of sickness; it
+had been thus from infancy. Margaret nodded kindly, and went back into
+Peggy's room, with an impression that Rita was pleased at having her out
+of the way. Out of the way of what? But Margaret could not think about
+mysteries now. Peggy wanted to talk, and to have her head stroked, and
+to know that Margaret was near her.
+
+"Your hand is so smooth, Margaret. I never felt anything like it; and
+the smoothness and coolness seem to go into my head, and stop the
+aching. Do you think this is being sick? If it is, I like it."
+
+Margaret saw that the child was excited, and her eyes were overbright.
+"No; this is not being sick," she said quietly. "But you ought to be
+sleepy by this time, my pussy. Lie still now, like a good child, and I
+will sing to you. Will you have the 'Bonny House o' Airlie?'"
+
+But it was long before Peggy could be quieted. She wanted to talk. She
+was full of reminiscences of former "croppers" in the lives of the
+various members of her family. She wanted to tell how Jim was dragged by
+the buffalo bull he was taming; how Pa caught the young grizzly by his
+paws, and held him until George came with the rifle; how Brown Billy ran
+away with her when she was six years old, and how she held on by his
+mane till he lay down and rolled in the creek, and then swam ashore. Her
+brain was feverishly excited, and it was not till late in the evening
+that Margaret succeeded in singing and soothing the tired girl to sleep.
+At length Peggy lay still, and her thoughts began to sink away into soft
+dreams, lulled by the soft hand on her brow, and the smooth, sweet voice
+in her ears. She opened her eyes to say, "I love you, Margaret; I love
+you best, over and over, all the time. If I thought I didn't for a bit,
+that was just because I was a stupid, and she--but now I know." And
+Peggy smiled, and smiling, fell asleep.
+
+Margaret sat still for a time, listening to the breathing that grew
+deeper and more regular as the minutes went on. She had brought her own
+bed across the hall, meaning to sleep with Peggy, in case of her waking
+in the night; though that was hardly likely. It was ten o'clock now, and
+Rita was probably asleep. She would go down for a moment to see that all
+was well, and perhaps have a word with Elizabeth, if she were not gone
+to bed. She went softly to the door, and turned the handle noiselessly.
+The door was locked!
+
+Greatly startled, Margaret stood motionless for a few minutes, thinking
+and listening. At first all was still. Footsteps above her
+head,--Elizabeth was going to bed; then the familiar creak of the good
+woman's bed; then silence again. Rita's room was across the hall, and
+she could hear no sound from there. Through the open window came the
+soft night noises: the dew dripping from the chestnut leaves, a little
+sleepy wind stirring the branches, a nut falling to the ground. How
+still!
+
+Hark! did a twig snap then? Was some one moving through the shrubbery,
+brushing gently against the leaves? And then, as her heart stood still
+to listen, Margaret heard a low, musical whistle. She stole to the
+window, and standing in the shadow of the curtain, looked out. A light
+was burning in her room, and at first she could see nothing but
+blackness outside. Gradually, the outlines of the great chestnut stole
+out from the empty darkness, a hard black against the soft gloom of the
+night. Then the shrubbery behind; and then--was something moving there?
+Were those two figures standing by the tree?
+
+The whistle was repeated; and now Margaret heard the swift rustle of
+silk brushing against her door, then fluttering from baluster to
+baluster, as Rita sped down the stairs. A door opening softly, and now
+three figures stood under the chestnut-tree. Words were whispered,
+greetings exchanged; then the three figures stole away into the
+blackness.
+
+Margaret felt helpless for a moment. Locked in,--her cousin asleep here,
+exhausted if not ill, and needing absolute quiet,--and going on
+downstairs--what? She must know! She must call John Strong, and warn
+him that her fears were realised, and that unwelcome visitors were
+already at the doors of Fernley, perhaps already within. But how was it
+possible? She ran to the window and looked down. Full twenty feet! To
+jump was impossible; even Peggy could not have done it. Peggy! yes! but
+Peggy could get out. Only the other night she had had a climbing frenzy,
+and had slid down the gutter-spout, half for the joy of it, half to
+tease Margaret, who was in terror till she reached the ground, and then
+in greater terror when the young gymnast came "shinning" up again,
+shouting and giggling. The spout! Margaret stood looking at it now. For
+a moment her courage deserted her, and she wrung her hands and began to
+sob under her breath; but this would not do! Her nerves knew the
+resolute shake of the shoulders, and shrank into obedience. She set her
+lips firmly, and there crept into her face a certain "dour" look that
+may have come from her Scottish ancestors. "If a thing has to be done,
+why, it must be done!" she said to herself. "Anyhow, there will be
+solid ground at the bottom, not a quaking bog."
+
+Could she do it? She had never climbed in her life. She had been wont to
+grow dizzy on any great height; and here she reflected that she had
+inwardly laughed at Rita, a few hours before, for growing dizzy at the
+sight of blood. "But I have to learn so many lessons!" said poor
+Margaret, and with that she laid her hand on the spout. A moment longer
+she waited, but no longer in hesitation,--she was simply asking for
+strength from One who had never refused it yet; then she clasped the
+pipe with both hands, swung herself out as she had seen Peggy do, and
+slid down, down, down.
+
+Her hands were torn and bleeding, but she reached the ground in safety,
+falling several feet, but escaping with a few bruises which she did not
+feel at the time. She ran round the house toward the east wing, where
+the gardener's room was, but stopped half-way. The door of the
+ground-floor room, her uncle's private room, was open; a light was
+burning inside. Possibly John Strong was himself on the watch, and she
+need go no farther. Margaret turned hastily, entered the room,--and was
+confronted by two young gentlemen in Spanish cloaks and broad-brimmed
+hats.
+
+Margaret's first impulse was to run away; her second, to stand and wait,
+feeling that she was at a play, and that the next scene was going to be
+very thrilling; but the third impulse was the right one, and she stepped
+forward, holding out her hand.
+
+"You are my Cousin Carlos, I am sure!" she said, addressing the taller
+of the two lads (for they were only lads, she saw to her unspeakable
+relief; the elder could not be more than twenty). "I am Margaret
+Montfort. You--you have seen Rita?"
+
+Don Carlos Montfort gasped and bowed, hat in hand. He and his companion
+were evidently new to their role of conspirators, for they were
+piteously ill at ease, and their dark eyes roamed about as if in search
+of retreat; but he managed to say something about the distinguished
+honour--a spare hour to visit his sister--delight at making the
+acquaintance of a relative so charming,--here he stopped and looked over
+his shoulder, for footsteps were heard, and he hoped Rita was coming.
+Already he and his comrade were cursing themselves for having been asses
+enough to be drawn into this scrape; why had they attended to a foolish
+girl instead of going their own way? Now they were in a trap--was that
+Rita coming?
+
+The door of the secret staircase was open, showing which way the girl
+had gone. But the steps that were now descending were heavy, though
+quiet,--far different from the rush of an excited bird that had gone up
+a moment before Margaret's appearance. They were to follow Rita,--she
+went to light a candle. Ah! what was this?
+
+The young men recoiled, and their dark eyes opened to their fullest
+width; Margaret's hands came together with a violent clasp. Down the
+narrow stair and into the room came a man in a black velvet jacket; a
+tall man, with bright, dark eyes and a grave face. He held a candle in
+his hand; he set it down, and turned to the two disconcerted Spaniards.
+
+"My nephew," said Mr. Montfort, "I am glad to welcome you and your
+friend to Fernley House. I am your Uncle John!"
+
+Margaret was not conscious of any surprise. It seemed part of the play,
+and as if she had known it all along, but had not been allowed to
+realise it, for some dramatic reason. She saw John Strong--John
+Montfort--shaking hands with the two unhappy young men, and trying to
+put them at their ease by speaking of the bad roads and the poor
+conveyances that were undoubtedly to blame for their arriving so late.
+She saw and heard, but still as in a dream. Her real thought was for
+Rita; what would she do? What desperate step might follow this
+disconcerting of her cherished plan?
+
+Unconsciously Margaret had moved forward, till now she stood the nearest
+to the foot of the stairs. She looked up into the darkness, with some
+thought of going to her cousin, telling her gently what had happened,
+and quieting her so that she might come down and face the situation, and
+meet her uncle. All at once, from that darkness above, a bright light
+sprang up, and the same instant there rang out a wild and terrible
+shriek.
+
+"Help! Carlos, help! I burn!"
+
+The three men started forward, but they were not the first. Margaret
+was conscious of but a single movement as she flew up the stairs, never
+stumbling, lighted by that fearful glare above. To spring into the
+garret, to drag down the heavy old cloak--the same that once had
+frightened the three girls on their first visit--that hung close by the
+stairway, to fling herself upon Rita, throwing her down, muffling her,
+smothering and beating out the flames that were leaping up toward the
+girl's white, wild face,--all this was done in one breath, it seemed to
+her. She knew nothing in the world but the fire she was fighting, the
+little flames that, choked down in one place, came creeping out at her
+from another, playing a dreadful hide-and-seek among the folds of the
+cloak, starting up under her very hands; but Margaret caught them in her
+hands, and strangled the life out of them, and fought on. It was but a
+moment, in reality. Another second or two and the flames would have had
+the mastery; but Margaret's swift rush had been in time, and the good
+heavy cloak--oh, the blessed weight and closeness of its fabric!--had
+shut out the air, so that by the time the last of the three anxious
+pursuers had reached the garret, the fire was out, and only smoke and
+charred woollen remained to tell of the terrible danger. Only these--and
+the two hands, burned and blistered, that Margaret was holding out to
+her uncle, as he bent anxiously over her.
+
+"Don't be angry with her, Uncle!" cried the girl. And she knew nothing
+more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.
+
+
+"And she really is not hurt, Uncle John?"
+
+"Not so much as an eyelash! You were so quick, child! How did you manage
+it? She had only time to scream and put her hands to her face, before
+you were upon her. The thing that flared up so was a lace shawl she had
+on her arm,--switched it into the candle, of course!--and that she
+dropped. It is not of her I am thinking, but of you, my dear, brave
+Margaret!" He bent over her tenderly and anxiously; but she smiled
+brightly in his face.
+
+"Truly, they hardly hurt at all! As you say, I must have been very
+quick, and the flames were only little ones. Elizabeth has bandaged them
+so beautifully; the pain is almost gone already."
+
+They were in Margaret's room; she on her sofa, with her hands swathed in
+bandages, but otherwise looking quite her own self, only a little paler
+than usual; her uncle sitting by her, his hand on her arm. Peggy
+fluttered in and out of the room, entirely recovered from the effect of
+her fall the day before, and proud beyond measure of having charge of
+Margaret, who last night had been watching and tending her. Peggy's
+nursing was of doubtful quality; already she had baptised Margaret
+twice,--once with gruel, again with cologne, when the cork with which
+she had been struggling came out suddenly, deluging her patient with
+fragrance.
+
+But her good will was so hearty, her affection so ardent and so anxious
+to prove itself, that Margaret had not the heart to deny her anything,
+and submitted to having her hair brushed in a style that was entirely
+new to her, and that made her wink at each vigorous stroke of the brush.
+
+Rita had not been seen since the night before, save by Elizabeth, who
+pronounced her well, but "a little upset, Miss!" and Elizabeth's face
+was a study in repression as she spoke.
+
+"And the boys, Uncle?" Margaret asked, when she was assured of Rita's
+safety. "What have you done with them?"
+
+Mr. Montfort laughed.
+
+"Poor boys!" he said. "Poor lads! they have had a hard time of it."
+
+"Oh, do tell me!" cried Margaret.
+
+"Why, they are all right; the boys are all right!" said Mr. Montfort.
+"It is that little monkey over there," nodding toward Rita's room, "who
+has made all the trouble. They have been fighting, it is true, and have
+been in the mountains with the insurgents. Very interesting their
+account of it is, too. If I were thirty years younger--but that is not
+the point. They were sent to New York by their chief on private
+business; something of importance, but perfectly legitimate,--nothing to
+do with arms or anything of the kind. Well, Carlos did not tell Rita the
+object of his coming, and she instantly saw fire and gunpowder, treason
+and plot,--in short, cooked up a whole melodrama to suit herself,--and
+believed it, I have no doubt, an hour after she invented it. She wrote
+Carlos mysterious letters, imploring him to come to her secretly; that
+her fate and that of her country depended upon his faithfulness and
+silence; that she was surrounded by spies--"
+
+"Poor Peggy and me!" cried Margaret. "And you, too, Uncle John! She has
+really had painful suspicions of you."
+
+"No doubt, no doubt! but in my case she had a right to suspicions. We
+will come to that presently. In short, the boy got the impression that
+his sister was immured in a kind of dungeon, surrounded by people who
+were unkind to her, and unable to get away or to call for help openly.
+He says he ought to have known better, for apparently she has been
+acting plays ever since she was short-coated; but this time he was
+really taken in, and came here last night, with his friend and cousin,
+meaning to rescue his sister and take her home to Cuba. Found her not
+desiring in the least to be rescued, but bent on hiding them both in the
+garret, and keeping them there till a cargo of arms and a vessel could
+be brought from New York. You know the rest. Carlos was in the library
+when I came up, waiting for an interview with Rita. I think it may be a
+lively one."
+
+"And the other; the cousin? I hardly saw him. They were both so
+embarrassed, poor dears!"
+
+"Seems a good little fellow; good little fellow enough! Gentlemanly
+boys, both of them. Carlos is much more of a person than the other.
+He--Fernando Sanchez--admires Rita a good deal, I should say, and tries
+to find her conduct admirable; but her brother--hark!"
+
+Something like a silken whirlwind came rushing up the stairs and across
+the hall; something that sobbed with fury, and stamped with feet that
+were too small to make much noise; then a door on the other side of the
+hall shut with a bang that made the solid walls quiver. Margaret and her
+uncle looked at each other. Presently Peggy came in, with round,
+frightened eyes.
+
+"What is the matter with Rita?" she asked. "Has she been in here? She
+came flying across the hall just now--oh, dear! I was just coming out of
+my room, and she took me and shook me, just as hard as she could shake.
+Why, my teeth chattered, Margaret! and then she flung off into her room,
+and slammed the door. My! she was in a tantrum! Oh, I--I--beg your
+pardon!" She faltered at the sight of her uncle, and hung back. She had
+only learned this morning of the astonishing transformation of her
+friend the gardener into the unknown and formidable relative.
+
+Mr. Montfort held out his hand, with the smile that always went to
+Peggy's heart.
+
+"Well, Miss Peggy," he said, "and what roses will you have to-day? My
+dear child," he added, seeing that she was really distressed, "you are
+not really troubled at my little masquerade? I am going to tell you all
+about it soon,--as soon as I can see my three Margarets together. I feel
+that I owe you all an explanation. Margaret has already heard part of my
+story, and when Rita comes in, as I hope she will do soon,--I sent word
+to her that I should be glad to see her here when she had had her talk
+with her brother,--we will go over the whole matter, and find out what
+John Strong and John Montfort have to say for themselves."
+
+He turned the subject, and began to talk of the garden and the flowers,
+in his usual quiet, cheerful way, till Peggy began to steal shy glances
+at him under her eyelashes, and finally to hold her head up and smile
+without looking as if she had stolen a sheep.
+
+They had not long to wait. Before they had settled the position of the
+new rose-bed, Rita's door was heard to open softly; then came the sound
+of trailing garments in slow and stately motion, and the next moment
+Rita entered the room.
+
+She was dressed in deep black from head to foot. A black veil covered
+her hair, and hung gracefully from her shoulders, and in her hand she
+carried a black fan.
+
+There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale but lovely.
+Mr. Montfort rose and came forward, holding out his hand. "My dear
+niece," he said with some formality, "let us shake hands in all
+friendliness."
+
+But Rita did not take the outstretched hand. Instead, she folded her
+hands, and sank down in the deepest and most beautiful courtesy that
+ever was seen. Her eyes remained downcast, the long lashes resting on
+her clear, white cheek.
+
+[Illustration: RITA'S APOLOGY.]
+
+"My uncle," she said, and her tone was dignified, pathetic, and
+resentful, all in one, "I come to make my submission to you, and to ask
+your pardon for my offences. My brother demands it, and I obey the head
+of my house, the representative of my father. I pray you to forgive me!"
+
+Mr. Montfort subdued an unruly twinkle in his eyes, and answered
+gravely:
+
+"I pardon you, my niece, freely. I beg you to consider the matter as if
+it had never existed. My house is yours, and all that it contains; pray
+be seated."
+
+Rita looked up, startled at hearing in English the phrase of Spanish
+courtesy so familiar to her ears; but Mr. Montfort's face was
+inscrutable, as he brought forward a chair, and handed her to it as if
+she were a duchess.
+
+But Rita was not ready to sit down yet; she had arranged her scene, and
+must go through with it. She advanced, and knelt down by Margaret's
+couch. "Marguerite," she said sadly, "you saved my life. It was
+valueless, I have learned; it was not worth the saving; nevertheless I
+thank you from my heart of hearts. I--" Here she caught sight of the
+bandaged hands, which Margaret had been trying to conceal beneath the
+afghan. Instantly the tragic mask fell from Rita's face, and left a real
+human countenance, full of pity and anxiety. "My dear!" she cried. "My
+angel, my poor suffering Marguerite. Ah! you sent me word it was
+nothing. You are injured, terribly injured, and by my fault. Ah! now
+Carlos _must_ let me die, as I desire. Life is no longer possible!"
+
+The words were extravagant, but there was real grief and distress in the
+tone. She laid her head on Margaret's shoulder and sobbed aloud; and
+Peggy was heartily glad to hear her cry, and cried in sympathy. Margaret
+could not stroke the dark head, but she moved her own near it, and
+whispered little comforting words, and kissed the soft hair. And
+presently, finding that the sobs only increased in violence, she
+whispered to Rita that she was distressing her uncle, and that she
+really must try to be quiet on his account. At the sound of his name,
+Rita froze again, though not to her former degree of rigour; with a
+fervent kiss on Margaret's brow, she rose, and finally took the chair
+that had been placed for her. Mr. Montfort sat down opposite, and a
+brief silence followed. He seemed to be thinking what he should say. At
+length he spoke.
+
+"My dear nieces, this is a day of explanations, and I feel that I owe
+you all an explanation of my conduct, which, doubtless, must appear
+strange to you. I--well, I suppose I am an eccentric man. I have always
+been considered so, and I confess not without apparent reason. I have
+often been able to justify to myself conduct which has seemed strange to
+others; and it has been my misfortune to live so much alone, that
+perhaps I may rely too much on this practice of self-justification.
+
+"It is now five years since my friend and cousin, Mrs. Cheriton, came to
+live with me. I have been made sensible, by her sweet and gracious
+presence, that my life before had been very grim and solitary, and I
+determined that it should be so no more. I also felt that while she was
+spared to me it would be a happiness and a benefit to her to have some
+young life about the house; to have, in short, some young and sweet
+woman, who could be her companion in a hundred ways that would not be
+possible for a solitary bachelor like myself.
+
+"With these thoughts in my mind, I naturally turned to the young women
+directly connected with me,--to the daughters of my brothers. I had
+never seen any of them; troubles into which it is not necessary for me
+to enter had made me withdraw until lately from all society, and I had
+not felt able to respond to the kind invitations sent me from time to
+time to visit one brother or another. I conceived the plan of sending
+for you three cousins to spend the summer with me, with the idea that at
+the end of the time I might ask one of you--the one who should seem most
+contented, and who should be best suited to a quiet, country
+life--to--a--to remain longer. This was my first plan. Perhaps it might
+have been better if I had adhered to it; but I subsequently modified it,
+not without a good deal of thought. It would be dull for you, I
+reflected--_triste_, as Rita would say,--here with me. A strange uncle,
+an elderly man, unused to young people, could not fail to be a constant
+check, a constant restraint upon gay and youthful spirits. I wanted you
+to be happy, so I decided to efface myself for a time, to let you have
+the home of your fathers for your own, unhampered by the presence of
+its owner."
+
+Margaret made a motion of eager remonstrance, but her uncle checked her
+with raised hand.
+
+"One moment, my dear! I now come to John Strong."
+
+Rita raised her eyes to his, full of proud defiance.
+
+"I deceived you!" he went on, answering her look. "I now think it was
+wrong, and Mrs. Cheriton, I ought to add, was opposed to the plan. But
+in the first place my presence here was necessary for many reasons; and
+in the second place I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you as you
+really were, not constrained or on good behaviour, or in any way changed
+from your own true selves. I think I succeeded."
+
+There was a moment's silence, which none of the girls dared to break.
+
+"My name is John Strong Montfort. I have been in the habit of spending a
+part of every day among my plants and flowers, for reasons of health and
+pleasure. It was simple enough for me to go from my private rooms to the
+garden, to use the private staircase which--a--with which you are
+familiar,"--Peggy winced and Margaret blushed, but Rita continued her
+direct gaze at her uncle and gave no sign,--"and to pass (by a way that
+has not yet been discovered) to and from the White Rooms. I intended to
+keep up this little farce for a few weeks only, but somehow the time has
+slipped by, and each day has brought you some new occupation which I was
+loath to interrupt. Lately, I confess, there has been a new incentive to
+secrecy, and perhaps--Rita--perhaps I may have been boy enough, old as I
+am, to enjoy my own little conspiracy. It is over; the play is played
+out. I have already made my peace with Margaret, and I think Peggy is
+prepared to accept my explanation. What do you say?"
+
+Rita had followed every word with breathless attention, her colour
+coming and going, her eyes growing momently brighter. Now, at this
+direct appeal, she rose and flung out her arms with the dramatic gesture
+so familiar to two of her hearers.
+
+"I say?" she repeated. "I say it was magnificent! It was superb!
+Marguerite, do I exaggerate? It was _inspired_! My uncle, I am prepared
+to adore you!"
+
+Mr. Montfort looked alarmed, but pleased. Rita went on, glowing with
+enthusiasm.
+
+"It was perfectly conceived, perfectly carried out! Ah, why were you not
+on my side? Together, you and I, we could have done--everything!"
+
+"You did not ask me, my dear!" said Mr. Montfort dryly. There was that
+in his look that made Rita blush at last. But in her present mood she
+could bear anything.
+
+"I beg again your pardon!" she cried. "Uncle, this time I beg for my own
+self pardon, of my own will. I was bad, wicked, abominable! Marguerite
+was right; she is always right! I kneel to you in penitence!"
+
+And she would have knelt down, then and there, if her uncle had not
+stopped her hastily and positively.
+
+"Give me a kiss instead, my dear!" he said. "We have had heroics enough
+for one day, and we must come down to plain common sense. Rita, Peggy,
+Margaret,--my three Margaret Montforts,--I wish and mean to love you
+all." He stooped and kissed each girl on the forehead; but he lingered
+by Margaret's side, and laid his hand on her hair with a silent gesture
+which held a blessing in it.
+
+"Margaret, you must rest now!" he said with kind authority. "Rita, we
+have left your brother and cousin too long alone. Come with me, and let
+us see what we can do to make them forget their untoward introduction to
+Fernley House."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+FAREWELL.
+
+
+The days that followed were merry ones at Fernley House. Mr. Montfort
+insisted on treating both the young Cubans as his nephews, and found
+them, as he said, very pleasant lads. Carlos had something of Rita's
+fire, but with it a good share of common sense that kept him from folly.
+Fernando was a mild and gentle youth, with nothing passionate about him
+save his moustache, which curled with ferocity. His large, dark eyes
+were soft and melting, his smile pleased and apologetic; but Rita
+persisted in considering him a fire-eater of the most incendiary type,
+and enjoyed this view so much that no one had the heart to undeceive
+her. Altogether, the two lads made a charming addition to the party, and
+no one was in a hurry to break it up. Rita was to return to Cuba with
+her brother, but Carlos showed a most thoughtful unwillingness to hasten
+his sister's departure. Peggy's flaxen hair and blue eyes had been a
+revelation to the young man, accustomed to dark beauties all his life,
+and he found "Cosine Paygi" a charming companion. They were excellent
+friends, and when Rita and Fernando sighed and rolled their eyes (as
+they were very fond of doing), Peggy and Carlos laughed.
+
+Margaret was still kept a little quiet by her hands, though the blisters
+were rapidly healing. The other four scampered here and there, playing
+hide and seek in the house, straying through the garden, dancing,
+singing, from morning to night. Margaret was always at hand to welcome
+them when they came in, to listen and laugh, or sympathise, as the case
+might demand. She was happy, too, in her own way, but she found herself
+wondering, as she had wondered before, whether she were seventeen or
+thirty-seven, and there was no doubt in her mind that Uncle John was
+nearer her in age than any of the others. Her heart was full of quiet
+happiness, for this dear uncle had asked her if she would stay with him,
+would make her home here at Fernley with him and Aunt Faith. She felt
+as if nothing in the world could have given her such happiness, and she
+shook her head, smiling, at Rita's violent protestations that she must
+come to Cuba, and at Peggy's equally earnest prayers that she would come
+out with her to the Ranch.
+
+"Some day!" was all she could be brought to say, when her cousins hung
+about her with affection whose sincerity she could not doubt.
+
+"Some day, dear girls, when Uncle John can come with me. As long as he
+needs me here, here I stay!"
+
+And Peggy would pout and shake her shoulders, and Rita would fling away
+and call her an iceberg, a snow-queen, with marble for a heart; and two
+minutes after they would both be waltzing through the hall like wild
+creatures, calling on Margaret to observe how beautifully the boys were
+learning the new step.
+
+The young men had been taken to visit Mrs. Cheriton, and came away so
+deeply smitten that they could talk of nothing else for some time. Rita
+and Peggy opened their young eyes very wide when Carlos declared she was
+the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and Fernando responded with
+fervour:
+
+"She eess a _go_dess! the wairld _con_tains not of soche."
+
+But the goddess could not dance, nor play "I spy!" and the girls soon
+had it their own way again.
+
+And so the day came when the dancing and playing must stop. The day
+came, and the hour came; and a group, half sad, half joyful, was
+gathered on the stone veranda, while White Eagle stood ready at the foot
+of the steps, with William, waiting to drive the four travellers to the
+ferry. Four; for Peggy was to be met in New York by a friend and
+neighbour of her father's who was to take her home.
+
+Peggy's eyes were red with weeping. Her hat was on wrong side before,
+and her veil was tied in a hard knot, as it had been on the night of her
+arrival; but Peggy did not care. She submitted while Margaret set the
+hat straight; then clung round her neck, and sobbed till Carlos was
+quite distracted. "Margaret, I--I want to tell you!" she whispered
+through her tears. "I am going to be a different girl at home now. I am
+going to--try--to remember the way you do things, and to be a little
+like you. Oh, Margaret, only a little! but I want you to think that I am
+trying, and--and--I will remember about my buttons--and--have my boots
+blacked. Oh, Margaret, you have been so good to me, and I do love you
+so, and now I--am--going away to leave you!"
+
+Margaret was in tears, too, by this time, seventeen having got the upper
+hand of thirty-seven completely.
+
+"My dear!" she said. "My dear, darling little Peggy, I shall miss
+you,--oh, so much! And dear, you have taught me as much as I have taught
+you, and more. Think of the bog! oh, Peggy, think of the bog! and the
+gutter-spout! I shall never be such a coward again, and all because of
+you, Peggy. And we will write to each other, dear, every week, won't we?
+and we will always be sisters, just the same as own sisters. Good-bye,
+my little girl! good-bye, my dear little girl!"
+
+The sobbing Peggy was lifted into the carriage; and now it was Rita's
+turn to cling about Margaret with fondest words and caresses.
+
+"Marguerite, we part!" she said. "_Tres chere_, how can I leave thee?
+I--I have learned much since I came here. We are different, yes! but I
+know that it is lovely to be good, though I am not good myself. You
+would not have me good, Marguerite? It would destroy my personnel! But I
+love goodness, and thee, the spirit of it. Don't shake your head, for I
+will not submit to it. You are good, I tell you,--good like my mother,
+my angel. You will think of me, _cherie_?--you will think of your
+Spanish Rita, and warm your kind, cool heart with the thought? Yes, I
+know you will. You will be happy here with the uncle. Yes! he's like
+you,--you will suit each other! For me, it would be death in two weeks;
+yet he is noble, he has the grand air. _Tres chere_, I have left for you
+the bracelet with the rubies; it is on your toilet-table. You admired
+it,--it was yours from that moment, but I waited, for I knew that one
+day we must part. They are drops of blood, Marguerite, from my
+heart,--Rita's heart,--which beats ever for you. _Adios, mi alma!_"
+
+All this was poured into Margaret's ear with such rapidity and fire that
+she could make no reply; could only embrace her cousin warmly, and
+promise constant thought and frequent letters.
+
+And now Carlos was bending to kiss her hand, rather to her confusion. He
+regarded her with awe and veneration, and murmured that she was a lily
+of goodness. Fernando was saluting her with three bows, each more
+magnificent than the other. Mr. Montfort kissed the girls warmly, shook
+hands cordially with the young men.
+
+Hands were kissed, handkerchiefs waved. Peggy, drowned in tears, looked
+back to utter a last farewell.
+
+"Good-bye, Margaret! Good-bye, darling Margaret! Don't forget us!"
+
+They were gone, and Margaret stood on the veranda and wept, her heart
+longing for her mates; but presently she dried her eyes, and looked up
+to greet her uncle with a smile.
+
+"Dear girls!" she said; "it has been so good, so good, to have them and
+know them. You have given us all a great happiness, Uncle John. And now
+they are going home to their own people, and that is well, too."
+
+"And you are staying at home," said John Montfort, "with your own
+people. This is your home, Margaret, as long as it is mine. I cannot be
+your father, dear, but you must let me come as near as you can, for we
+have only one another,--you and Aunt Faith and I. You will stay, always,
+will you not, to be our light and comfort? I don't feel as if I could
+ever let you go again."
+
+"Oh," said Margaret, and her eyes ran over again with happy tears, "Oh,
+if I can really be a comfort, Uncle, I shall be so glad--so glad! but I
+know so little! I am--"
+
+But Uncle John had only one word to say, and that was the one word of an
+old song that he loved, and that his mother had sung to him when he was
+a little lad in the nursery:
+
+    "Weel I ken my ain lassie;
+    Kind love is in her e'e!"
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Margarets, by Laura E. Richards
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE MARGARETS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22293.txt or 22293.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/9/22293/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22293.zip b/22293.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28a5164
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22293.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..80a3611
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #22293 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22293)