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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. 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