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diff --git a/24828-h/24828-h.htm b/24828-h/24828-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3adfa78 --- /dev/null +++ b/24828-h/24828-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8418 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Margaret Montfort, by Laura E. Richards. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Margaret Montfort, 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: Margaret Montfort + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Release Date: March 14, 2008 [EBook #24828] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARGARET MONTFORT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>MARGARET MONTFORT</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 337px;"> +<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="337" height="500" alt="Cover: MARGARET MONTFORT." title="Cover: MARGARET MONTFORT." /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><div class='bbox'> +<h2><i>Books by Laura E. Richards.</i></h2> + + +<p>"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the literary +world, from her delicate treatment of New England village life."—<i>Boston Post.</i></p> + +<div class='center'>——————</div> +<h3>THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES.</h3> + +<div class='hang1'><b>CAPTAIN JANUARY.</b> 16mo, cloth, 50 cents.</div> + +<p>A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been +very remarkable. One reads it, is thoroughly charmed by it, tells +others, and so its fame has been heralded by its readers, until to-day +it is selling by the thousands, constantly enlarging the circle of its +delighted admirers.</p> + +<div class='hang1'><b>SAME.</b> <i>Illustrated Holiday Edition.</i> With thirty half-tone pictures +from drawings by Frank T. Merrill. 4to, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>MELODY.</b> The Story of a Child. 16mo, 50 cents.</div> + +<p>"Had there never been a 'Captain January,' 'Melody' would easily +take first place."—<i>Boston Times.</i></p> + +<p>"The quaintly pretty, touching, old-fashioned story is told with perfect +grace; the few persons who belong to it are touched on with distinctness +and with sympathy."—<i>Milwaukee Sentinel.</i><br /><br /></p> + +<div class='hang1'><b>SAME.</b> <i>Illustrated Holiday Edition.</i> With thirty half-tone pictures +from drawings by Frank T. Merrill. 4to, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>MARIE.</b> 16mo, 50 cents.</div> + +<p>"Seldom has Mrs. Richards drawn a more irresistible picture, or +framed one with more artistic literary adjustment."—<i>Boston Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"A perfect literary gem."—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>NARCISSA</b>, and a companion story, <b>IN VERONA</b>. 16mo, cloth, +50 cents.</div> + +<p>"Each is a simple, touching, sweet little story of rustic New England +life, full of vivid pictures of interesting character, and refreshing for its +unaffected genuineness and human feeling."—<i>Congregationalist.</i></p> + +<p>"They are the most charming stories ever written of American +country life."—<i>New York World.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>JIM OF HELLAS; or, IN DURANCE VILE</b>, and a companion +story, <b>BETHESDA POOL</b>. 16mo, 50 cents.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>SOME SAY</b>, and a companion story, <b>NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS</b>. +16mo, 50 cents.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>ROSIN THE BEAU.</b> 16mo, 50 cents. A sequel to "Melody."<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /></div> +<div class='hang1'><b>ISLA HERON.</b> A charming prose idyl of quaint New England life. +Small quarto, cloth, 75 cents.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>NAUTILUS.</b> A very interesting story, with illustrations; uniquely +bound, small quarto, cloth, 75 cents.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>FIVE MINUTE STORIES.</b> A charming collection of short stories +and clever poems for children. Small quarto, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>THREE MARGARETS.</b> One of the most clever stories for girls +that the author has written. 16mo, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>MARGARET MONTFORT.</b> A new volume in the series of which +"Three Margarets" was so successful as the initial volume. 16mo, +cloth, handsome cover design, $1.25.<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>LOVE AND ROCKS.</b> A charming story of one of the pleasant +islands that dot the rugged Maine coast, told in the author's most +graceful manner. With etching frontispiece by Mercier. Tall +16mo, unique cover design on linen, gilt top, $1.00.</div> + +<div class='center'>——————————————————</div> +<div class='center'><i>Dana Estes & Company, Publishers, Boston.</i></div> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 270px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/gs01.png" width="270" height="400" alt="MARGARET MONTFORT." title="MARGARET MONTFORT." /> +<span class="caption">MARGARET MONTFORT.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1> +<span class="smcap">Margaret Montfort</span></h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> +<div class='center'> +AUTHOR Of "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY,"<br /> +"QUEEN HILDEGARDE," ETC.<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<br /> +Illustrated by<br /> +ETHELDRED B. BARRY<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 165px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="165" height="200" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>BOSTON</small><br /> +DANA ESTES & COMPANY<br /> +<small>PUBLISHERS</small><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='center'> +<i><small>Copyright, 1898</small></i><br /> +<span class="smcap"><small>By Dana Estes & Company</small></span><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small><b>Colonial Press</b></small><br /> +<small>Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.</small><br /> +<small>Boston, U.S.A.</small><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='center'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Present and Absent</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Domestic</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Unexpected</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Trials of Margaret</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A New Type</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Lesson in Geography</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Dauntless Three</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The First Conquest</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Newcomer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"I Must Help Myself"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Second Conquest</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Voice of Fernley</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Who Did It?</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Black Spirits and White</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Departure</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Peace</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Margaret Montfort</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Afterwards she sallied out into the garden</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Did you bring a book to read to me, little girl</span>?'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The little girl had never stirred, but stood gazing up at the big man who held her hands</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Merton was teasing Chiquito</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Won't you come in</span>?'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A lively ghost</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The 'Flail of the Desert'</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>MARGARET MONTFORT.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>PRESENT AND ABSENT.</h3> + + +<p>"It shall be exactly as you please, my +dear!" said Mr. Montfort. "I have no wish +in the matter, save to fulfil yours. I had +thought it would be pleasanter, perhaps, to +have the rooms occupied; but your feeling is +most natural, and there is no reason why you +should not keep your present room."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, uncle!" said the girl whom +he addressed as Margaret, and whom some of +my readers may have met before. "It is not +that I don't love the dear rooms, nor that it +would not be a joy to be in them, for some +reasons; but,—I think, just to go and sit +there every day, alone or with you, and think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +about her,—it seems as if that would be +easier just now, dear uncle. You always +understand, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort nodded, and puffed thoughtfully +at his cigar. The two, uncle and niece, +were sitting on the wide verandah of Fernley +House; it was a soft, fair June evening, and +the fireflies were flitting through the trees, +and one or two late birds were chirping +drowsily. There were only the two of them +at Fernley now, for one day, some two months +ago, the beloved Aunt Faith had fallen quietly +asleep, and passed in sleep away from age and +weakness and weariness. Margaret missed her +sadly indeed; but there was no bitterness in +her grieving, and she felt all the more need +of keeping the house cheerful and bright for +her uncle, who had lost the faithful and affectionate +friend who had been for years like a +second mother to him. They talked of her +a great deal, of the beauty and helpfulness of +the long life that had brought so much joy to +others; just now Mr. Montfort had proposed +that Margaret should occupy the White +Rooms, which had been Mrs. Cheriton's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +special apartments in the great rambling house; +but he did not urge the matter, and they sat +in silence for a time, feeling the soft beauty +of the evening wrap them round like a garment +of rest.</p> + +<p>"And what have you been doing all day, +while I was in town?" asked Mr. Montfort +presently. "You were not too lonely, May +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not a bit too lonely; just enough +to make it very good to have one's Uncle John +come back. Let me see! After you went, I +fed Chiquito, and stayed with him quite a +while, talking and singing. He is so pitiful, +poor old fellow! Then I took a walk, and +dropped in to see how Mrs. Peyton was; she +asked me to come in the morning, you know, +when I could."</p> + +<p>"And how was she? Superb as ever?"</p> + +<p>"Just, Uncle John! Her dressing-jacket +was blue this time, and there was a new kind +of lace on her pillows."</p> + +<p>"Oh! she has lace on her pillows, has she, +my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you, uncle? Pillows and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +sheets are trimmed with real lace, most magnificent. +To-day it was Valenciennes, really +lovely Valenciennes, to match her cap and the +frills on her jacket. And turquoise buttons +and cap-pins; oh, she was a vision of beauty, +I assure you. The pale pink roses on the +table by her bed gave just the right touch to +accentuate—if that is what I mean—all the +blue. She is an artist in effects. She must +have been very beautiful, Uncle John? She +is beautiful now, of course, only so worn and +fragile."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she was extremely beautiful, in her +way," said Mr. Montfort; "and she was always, +as you say, an artist in effects. And +in a good many other things," he murmured, +half under his breath. "She was glad to see +you, no doubt, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she is always most cordial and +kind. She made me tell her just how you +were looking,—she always does that; and +what you were doing."</p> + +<p>"Emily Peyton is a singular woman," said +Mr. Montfort, thoughtfully. "She suffers, no +doubt, and I am glad if you can be a comfort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +to her, Margaret; but be a little careful, my +dear; be a little careful with Mrs. Peyton! +H'm! ha! yes, my love! and what else did +you say you had done to amuse yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Uncle John, do you think I have to +be amusing myself all day? What a frivolous +creature you must think me! I practised +after I came home; and then I had lunch, +and then I arranged the flowers, and then I +made some buttonholes, and all the rest of +the afternoon I sat under the big tulip-tree, +reading 'Henry Esmond.' So you see, I +have really had the most delightful day, +Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Especially the last part of it," said her +uncle, smiling. "Esmond was rather more +delightful than the buttonholes, eh, Meg?"</p> + +<p>"Well, possibly!" Margaret admitted. +"He is rather more delightful than almost +anything else, isn't he? But not half so good +as one's Uncle John, when he comes home in +the gloaming, with his pockets full of bonbons +and letters for his unworthy niece."</p> + +<p>"Flatterer!" said Mr. Montfort. "Does +this come of visiting Mrs. Peyton? She used<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +to be an adept in the art. But what do our +two other Margarets say? Has Peggy set the +prairies on fire yet? She will some day, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Do you think the mosquitoes would quite +devour us if I brought the small lamp out +here? I really must read you the letters, +and it is too lovely to go in. Shall +I try?"</p> + +<p>Margaret brought the lamp, and, drawing +a letter from her pocket, began to read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Darling Margaret</span>:</p> + +<p>"I was so glad to get your letter. It was splendid, +and I'm going to copy out a lot of the things +you said, and pin them up by my looking-glass. My +hair <i>will not</i> part straight, because I have the most +frightful cowlick—</p></div> + +<p>"I don't believe you care for this part, do +you, Uncle John? Poor little Peggy's difficulties +are very funny sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Why, I like it all, Meg, if you think +Peggy would not mind my hearing it. It +is all sweet and wholesome, I know; but +leave out anything you think I should not +hear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, there isn't anything, really. I'll go +on, if you like. Where was I? Oh!—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The most frightful cowlick. The reason I tried +was because you said my forehead was nice. I hope +you will not think me very vain, Margaret. And +you know, no one is wearing bangs any more, not +even curly ones. So I have put it straight back +now, and Pa likes it, and says I look like his +mother. Margaret, will you try to get me the receipt +for barley soup, the way Frances makes it? +Mother isn't well, and I thought I would try if I +could make some. I think, Margaret, that I am +going to find something I can really do! I think +it is cooking! What do you think of that? Our +cook went away to her brother's wedding last week, +and Mother was sick, and so I tried; and Pa (I +tried saying Father, but he wouldn't let me!) said +the things tasted good, and I had a knack for flavouring. +That made me feel so happy, Margaret! Because +I had just gone ahead till I thought a thing +tasted right. I did not want to be bothering 'round +with cook-books, and besides, ours was lost, for +Betsy can't read, so there was no use for one. I +made an apple-pudding yesterday, and Pa had two +helps, and all the boys wanted three, but there +wasn't enough, though I made it in the big meat-pie +pan. Darling Margaret, do please write again +very soon, and tell me about everything at dear,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +darling Fernley. How is Chiquito, and does Uncle +John ever speak of me? I miss him dreadfully, but +I miss you most of all, darling Margaret,—I never +get over missing you. I have a new dog, a setter, a +perfect beauty. I asked Hugh to name him for me, +and he named him Hamlet, because he was black +and white, and Hugh thought he was going to be +melancholy, but he grins and wiggles all over every +time you look at him. I am teaching him to jump +over a stick and he does it beautifully,—only the +other day I stood too near the looking-glass, and he +jumped into that, and smashed it, and frightened +himself almost to death, poor puppy. Margaret, I +read a little history every day,—not very much, but +I think of you when I read it, and that makes it better. +Pa says I am going to school next year; won't +that be fun? Hugh is reading 'John Brent' to me in +the evenings. Oh, how perfectly splendid it is! If +I had a horse like Fulano, I would live with him all +the time, and never leave him for five minutes. I +want dreadfully to go out west and find Luggernel +Alley. Hugh says perhaps we shall go some day, +just him and me. That doesn't look right, Margaret, +but I tried writing 'he and I' on a piece of paper, +and it didn't look any better, so I guess I'll leave +it as it is. Do you think I write better? I am trying +to take a lot of pains. I try to think of all the +things you tell me, dear Margaret. Mother thinks I +am doing better, I know. Mother and I have real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +good talks together, like we never used to before, +and she tells me what she used to do when she was +a girl. I guess she had some pretty hard times. I +guess I'm a pretty lucky girl, Margaret. Now I must +go and get mother's supper. Give lots and lots of +love to Uncle John, and some to Elizabeth and +Frances, and say—I can't spell it, but the Spanish +thing I learned—to poor Chiquito. But most love +of all to your own, dear, darling self, Margaret, from</p> + +<div class='sig'>"<span class="smcap">Peggy</span>."</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Montfort curled his moustaches in +silence for some minutes, when the reading +was over.</p> + +<p>"Dear little girl!" he said at last. "Good +little Peggy! So she will learn to cook, will +she? And she is getting hold of her mother! +This is as it should be, Margaret, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" cried Margaret. "Oh, Uncle +John, this letter makes me feel so happy +about the child. At first, you know, she +missed us all more than she should have,—really. +And—and I think that, except +for Hugh, perhaps they did not receive her +in quite the way they might have, laughing +at her a good deal, and sneering when she +tried to make little improvements. I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +mean Aunt Susan or Uncle James, but the +younger children, and George, who must be—whom +I don't fancy, somehow. And she +has been so brave, and has tried so hard to +be patient and gentle. I think our Peggy +will make a very fine woman, don't you, +uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I do, my love. I have a great tenderness +for Peggy. When she is at school, she must +come here for her vacations, or some of them, +at least."</p> + +<p>"And she owes this all to you!" cried Margaret, +with shining eyes. "If she had never +come here, Uncle John, I feel as if she might +have grown up—well, pretty wild and +rough, I am afraid. Oh, she ought to love +you, and she does."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mr. Montfort, dryly. "Yes, +my dear, she does, and I am very glad of the +dear little girl's love. But as for owing it all +to me, why, Margaret, there may be two +opinions about that. Well, and what says +our Bird of Paradise?"</p> + +<p>"Rita? Oh, uncle, I don't know what you +will think of this letter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't read it, my dear, if you think it is +meant for you alone. You can tell me if she +is well and happy."</p> + +<p>"That is just it, Uncle John. She wants +to go to Europe, and her father does not approve +of her going just at present, and so—well, +you shall hear part of it, at any rate.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Margaret, my Soul!"</p></div> + +<p>"That sounds natural!" said Mr. Montfort. +"That is undoubtedly Rita, Margaret; go on! +If you were her soul, my dear, my brother +Richard would have a quieter life. Go on."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Hardly a week has passed since last I wrote, +yet to-night I fly again in spirit to you, since my +burning heart must pour itself out to some other +heart that can beat with mine. It is midnight. All +day I have suffered, and now I fain would lose myself +in sleep. But no! My eyes are propped open, my +heart throbs to suffocation, I enrage, I tear myself—how +should sleep come to such as I? O Marguerite, +there in your cool retreat, with that best of men, my +uncle,—yours also,—a Paladin, but one whose blood +flows, or rests, quietly, as yours, can you feel for +me, for your Rita, who burns, who dissolves in +anguish? Listen! I desire to go to Europe. I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +never seen it, as you know. Spain, the home of my +ancestors, the cradle of the San Reals, is but a name +to me. Now I have the opportunity. An escort +offers itself, perfection, beyond earthly desire. You +recall my friend, my Conchita, who divides my heart +with you? She is married, my dear! She is the Señora +Bobadilla; her husband is noble, rich, devoted. +Young, I do not say; brilliant, I do not pretend! +Conchita is brought up in the Spanish way, my +child; she weds a Spanish husband, as her parents +provide him; it is the custom. Now! Marguerite, +they offer to take me with them to Spain, to France, +Italy, the world's end. It is the opportunity of a +lifetime. I pine, I die for change. When you consider +that I have been a year here, without once +leaving home,—it is an eternity! I implore my father; +I weep—torrents! I clasp his knees. I say, 'Kill +me, but let me go!' No! he is adamant. He talks +about the disturbed state of the country! Has it been +ever undisturbed? I ask you, Marguerite! Briefly, I +remain! The Bobadillas sail to-morrow, without me. +I feel that this blow has crushed me, Marguerite. I +feel my strength, never, as you know, robust, ebbing +from me. Be prepared, Marguerite! I feel that in a +few weeks I may be gone, indeed, but not to Europe; +to another and a kinder world. The San Reals are a +short-lived race; they suffer, they die! My father +will realise one day that he might better have let his +poor Rita have her way for once, when Rita lies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +shrouded in white, with lilies at her head and feet. +Adios, Marguerite! farewell, heart of my heart! I +have made my will,—my jewels are divided between +you and Peggy. Poor Peggy! she also will mourn +me. You will dry her tears, dearest! The lamp +burns low—no more! For the last time, beloved +Marguerite,</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">"Your unhappy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;">"<span class="smcap">Margarita Maria Dolores de</span></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">San Real Montfort</span>."<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Isn't that really pretty alarming?" said +Margaret, looking up. "Why—why, Uncle +John! you are laughing! Don't laugh, please! +Of course Rita is extravagant, but I am afraid +she must really be very unhappy. Stay! Here +is a postscript that I did not see before. +Oh! Oh, uncle! Listen!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Alma mia, one word! It is morning, in the world +and in my heart. I go, Marguerite! My maid is +packing my trunk at this instant. My father relents; +he is an angel, the kindest, the most considerate +of parents. We sail to-morrow for Gibraltar,—I +shall be in Madrid in less than a month. Marguerite, +I embrace you tenderly. Rejoice, Beloved, with +your happy, your devoted</p> + +<div class='sig'>"<span class="smcap">Rita</span>."</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear!" said Mr. Montfort, +twirling his moustaches. "Poor Richard! +Poor old Dick! Do you know, my dear, I +think Dick may have had some experience of +life."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>DOMESTIC.</h3> + + +<p>Life was pleasant enough for Margaret +Montfort, in those days. The hours were +still sad which she had been used to spend with +Mrs. Cheriton, the beloved Aunt Faith; but +there was such peace and blessedness in the +thought of her, that Margaret would not have +been without the gentle sorrow. She loved +to sit in the White Rooms, sometimes with +her uncle, but more often alone. In the +morning, she generally walked for an hour in +the garden with Mr. Montfort, tending the +rose-bushes that were his special care and +pride, listening to his wise and kindly talk, +and learning, she always thought, something +new each day. It is wonderful how much +philosophy, poetry, even history, can be +brought into the care of roses, if the right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +person has charge of them. At ten o'clock +he generally went to town, and the rest of +the morning was spent in practising, sewing, +and studying; the hours flew by so fast, +Margaret often suspected the clock of being +something of a dishonest character. She was +studying German, with the delightful result +of reading "Der Trompeter von Säkkingen" +with her uncle in the evening, when it was +not too beautiful out-of-doors. Then, in the +afternoon, she could with a clear conscience +take up some beloved romance, and be "just +happy," as she called it, till Mr. Montfort +returned in time for the walk or ride which +was the crowning pleasure of the day. And +so the days went by, in a golden peace which +seemed too pleasant to last; and yet there +seemed no reason why it should ever change.</p> + +<p>The morning after the reading of the +letters, Margaret had been in the White +Rooms, arranging flowers in the vases, and +putting little loving touches to books and +cushions, as a tidy girl loves to do, whether +there is need or not. The windows were +open, and the orioles were singing in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +great elm-tree, and the laburnum was a bower +of gold. It seemed really too perfect a morning +to spend in the house; Margaret thought +she would take her work out into the garden, +not this sunny green parlour, but the great +shady garden outside, where the box swept +above her head, and the whole air smelt of it, +and of moss and ferns and a hundred other +cool things. She passed out of the rooms, +and went along a passage, and as she went she +heard voices that came through an open door +at one side; clear, loud voices that she could +not have escaped if she would.</p> + +<p>"These table-napkins is scandalous!" said +Elizabeth. "I do wish Miss Margaret would +get us some new ones."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask her?" said Frances, +the cook, bringing her flat-iron down with a +thump. "The table-cloths is most worn out, +too, this set. Ask her to see to some new +ones. She's young, you see, and she don't +think."</p> + +<p>"I've been giving her one with holes in it, +right along this two weeks," said Elizabeth, +"hoping she'd notice, but she don't seem to.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +I thought it'd be best if she found out herself +when things was needed."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Frances, "she's a sweet young +lady, but she'll never make no housekeeper. +She hasn't so much as looked inside one of +my closets since Mis' Cheriton went."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't be over and above pleased +if she looked much into your closets, Frances; +I know that!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I wouldn't, and maybe I would; +but I'd like to have her know as there was no +need of her looking. Don't tell me, Elizabeth! +So long as she could walk on her feet, +never a week but Mis' Cheriton would look +in, and take a peep at every shelf. 'Just for +the pleasure of seeing perfection, Frances,' +she'd say, or something like that, her pretty +way. But if there had been anything <i>but</i> +perfection, I'd have heard from her pretty +quick."</p> + +<p>"I think you're hard to please, I do!" +Elizabeth answered. "I think Miss Margaret +is as sweet a young lady as walks the earth; +so thoughtful, and afraid of giving trouble, +and neat and tidy as a pin. I tell you, Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +Montfort's well off, and so's you and me, +Frances. Why, we might have had one of +them other young ladies, and then where'd +we have been?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know!" said Frances, significantly. +"Not here, that's one sure thing."</p> + +<p>"Or Mr. Montfort might have married. +Fine man as he is, it's a wonder he never +has."</p> + +<p>"H'm! he's no such fool! Not but what +there's them would be glad enough—"</p> + +<p>But here Margaret, with burning cheeks, +fled back to the White Rooms. It could not +be helped; she had to hear what they were +saying about herself; she must not hear what +they said about her uncle.</p> + +<p>She sat down on the little stool that had +always been her favourite seat, and leaned her +cheek against the great white chair, that +would always be empty now.</p> + +<p>"I wish you were here, Aunt Faith!" she +said, aloud. "I am very young, and very +ignorant. I wish you were here to tell me +what I should do."</p> + +<p>At first the women's talk seemed cruel to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +her. They had been here so long, they knew +the ways of the house so entirely, she had +never dreamed of advising them, any more +than of advising her uncle himself. Frances +had been at Fernley twenty years, +Elizabeth, twenty-five. What could she tell +them? How could she possibly know about +the things that had been their care and +pride, year in and year out, since before +she was born? It seemed very strange, +very unkind, that they should expect her +to step in, with her youth and ignorance, +between them and their experience. So she +thought, and thought, feeling hot, and sore, +and angry. She had never had any care of +housekeeping in her life. Old Katy, her +nurse, who had taken her from her dying +mother's arms, had always done all that; +Margaret's part was to see that her own +and her father's clothes were in perfect +order, to keep the rooms dusted, and arrange +the books when she was allowed to +touch them, which was not often. As to +table-cloths, she had never thought of them +in her life; Katy saw to all that; and if she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +had attempted to suggest ordering dinner, +Katy would have been apt to send her to +bed, Margaret thought. Poor, dear old +Katy! She was dead now, and Aunt Faith +was dead, and there was no one to stand +between Margaret and the cares that she +knew nothing about. Of course, Uncle John +must never know anything of it; he expected +perfection, and had always had it; he did not +care how it was brought about. Surely these +women were unkind and unreasonable! What +good could she possibly do by interfering? +They would not endure it if she really did +interfere.</p> + +<p>The white linen cover of the chair was +smooth and cool; Margaret pressed her cheek +against it, and a sense of comfort stole over +her insensibly. She began to turn the matter +over, and try to look at the other side of it. +There always was another side; her father had +taught her that when she was a little child. +Well, after all, had they really said anything +unkind? Frances's words came back to her, +"I'd like to have her know as there was no +need of her looking."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>After all, was not that perfectly natural? +Did not every one like to have good work +seen and recognised? Even Uncle John always +called her to see when he had made a +particularly neat graft, and expected her +praise and wonderment, and was pleased +with it. And why did she show him her +buttonholes this morning, except that she +knew they were good buttonholes, and wanted +the kindly word that she was sure of getting? +Was the trouble with her, after all? Had +she failed to remember that Elizabeth and +Frances were human beings, not machines, +and that her uncle being what he was, she +herself was the only person to give them +a word of deserved praise or counsel?</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said to herself, "I don't +want to be hasty in my judgments, but it +rather looks as if you had been a careless, +selfish goose, doesn't it now?"</p> + +<p>She went up to her own room,—the garden +seemed too much of an indulgence just now,—and +sat down quietly with her work. Sewing +was always soothing to Margaret. She +was not fond of it; she would have read<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +twelve hours out of the twenty-four, if she +had been allowed to choose her own way +of life, and have walked or ridden four, +and slept six, and would never have thought +of any time being necessary for eating, till +she felt hungry. But she had been taught +to sew well and quickly, and she had always +made her own underclothes, and felled all the +seams, and a good many girls will know how +much that means. She sat sewing and thinking, +planning all kinds of reforms and experiments, +when she heard Elizabeth stirring in +the room next hers. It was the linen room, +and Elizabeth was putting away clean clothes, +Margaret knew by the clank of the drawer-handles. +Now! this was the moment to +begin. She laid down her work, and went +into the linen room.</p> + +<p>"May I see you put them away, Elizabeth?" +she asked. "I always like to see +your piles of towels,—they are so even and +smooth."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth looked up, and her face brightened. +"And welcome, Miss Margaret!" she +said. "I'll be pleased enough. 'Tis dreadful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +lonesome, and Mis' Cheriton gone. Not that +she could come up here, I don't mean; but I +always knew she was there, and she was like +a mother to me, and I could always go to her. +Yes, miss, the towels do look nice, and I love +to keep 'em so."</p> + +<p>"They are beautiful!" said Margaret, with +genuine enthusiasm, for the shelves and +drawers were like those she had read about +in "Soll und Haben." She had loved them +in the book, but never thought of looking at +them in reality. "Oh, what lovely damask +this is, Elizabeth! It shines like silver! I +never saw such damask as this."</p> + +<p>"'Tis something rare, miss, I do be told," +Elizabeth replied.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Montfort brought them towels back +from Germany, three years ago, because he +thought they would please his aunt, and they +did, dear lady. Hand spun and wove they +are, she said; and there's only one place +where they make this weave and this pattern. +See, Miss Margaret! 'Tis roses, coming out +of a little loaf of bread like; and there was +a story about it, some saint, but I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +rightly remember what. There! I have +tried to remember that story, ever since +Mis' Cheriton went, but it seems I can't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh, it must be Saint Elizabeth of +Hungary!" cried Margaret, bending in delight +over the smooth silvery stuff. "Why, +how perfectly enchanting!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, that's it!" cried Elizabeth, +beaming with pleasure. "Saint Elizabeth it +was; and maybe you'll know the story, Miss +Margaret. I never like to ask Mr. Montfort, +of course, but I should love dearly to hear it."</p> + +<p>Margaret asked nothing better. She told +the lovely story as well as she knew how, and +before she had finished, Elizabeth's eyes as +well as her own were full of tears. One of +Elizabeth's tears even fell on the towel, and +she cried out in horror, and wiped it away as if +it had been a poison-spot, and laid the sacred +damask back in its place. Margaret felt the +moment given to her.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth," she said, "I want to ask you +something. I want to ask if you will help +me a little. Will you try?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, surprised and pleased, vowed she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +would do all she could for Miss Margaret, in +any way in her power.</p> + +<p>"You can do a great deal!" said Margaret. +"I—I am very young, Elizabeth, and—and +you and Frances have been here a long time, +and of course you know all about the work of +the house, and I know nothing at all. And +yet—and yet, I ought to be helping, it seems +to me, and ought to be taking my place, and +my share in the work. Do you see what I +mean, Elizabeth? You and Frances could help +me, oh, so much, if you would; and perhaps +some day I might be able to help you too,—I +don't know just how, yet, but it might come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, miss, we will be so thankful!" cried +Elizabeth. "Oh, miss, Frances and me, we'd +been wishing and longing to have you speak +up and take your place, if I may say so. We +didn't like to put ourselves forward, and we've +no orders from Mr. Montfort, except to do +whatever you said; and so, when you'll say +anything, Miss Margaret, we feel ever and +ever so much better, Frances and me. And +I'll be pleased to go all over the work with +you, Miss Margaret, this very day, and show<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +you just how I've always done it, and I think +Mr. Montfort has been satisfied, and Mis' +Cheriton was, Lord rest her! and you so +young, and with so much else to do, as I said +time and again to Frances, reading with Mr. +Montfort and riding with him, and taking +such an interest in the roses, as his own +daughter couldn't make him happier if he +had one. And of course it's nature that you +haven't had no time yet to take much notice, +but it makes it twice as easy for servants, +Miss Margaret, where an interest is took; and +I'm thankful to you, I'm sure, and so will +Frances be, and you'll find her closets a +pleasure to look at."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth stopped to draw breath, and +Margaret looked at her in wonder and self-reproach. +The grave, staid woman was all +alight with pleasure and the prospect of sympathy. +It came over Margaret that, comfortable +and homelike as their life at Fernley was, +it was not perhaps exactly thrilling.</p> + +<p>"We will be friends, Elizabeth!" she said, +simply; and the two shook hands, with an +earnestness that meant something. "And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +you are to come to me, please, whenever there +is anything that needs attention, Elizabeth, +and I will do my best, and ask your advice +about anything I don't understand. Don't—don't +we—need some new napkins, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was eloquent as to their need of +napkins. In a couple of washes more, there +would be nothing but holes left to wipe their +hands on.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll order some this very day," said +Margaret. "Or better still, I'll go to town +with Uncle John to-morrow, and get them myself. +And now, Elizabeth, I am going down +to see Frances, and—and perhaps—do you +think she would like it if I ordered dinner, +Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Margaret, she'd be pleased to death!" +cried Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Returning from the kitchen an hour later, a +sadder and a wiser girl (for Frances's perfection +seemed unattainable by ordinary mortals, +even with the aid of Sapolio), Margaret heard +the sound of wheels on the gravel outside. +Glancing through the window of the long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +passage through which she was going, she +saw, to her amazement, a carriage standing at +the door, a carriage that had evidently come +some way, for it was covered with dust. The +driver was taking down a couple of trunks, +and beside the carriage stood a lady, with her +purse in her hand.</p> + +<p>"I shall give you two dollars!" the lady +was saying, in a thin, sharp voice. "I consider +that ample for the distance you have +come."</p> + +<p>"I told the gentleman it would be three +dollars, mum!" said the man, civilly, touching +his hat. "Three dollars is the regular +price, with one trunk, and these trunks is +mortal heavy. The gentleman said as it +would be all right, mum."</p> + +<p>"The gentleman knew nothing whatever +about it," said the sharp-voiced lady. "I +shall give you two dollars, and not a penny +more. I have always paid two dollars to +drive to Fernley, and I have no idea of being +cheated now, I assure you."</p> + +<p>The man was still grumbling, when Elizabeth +opened the door. She looked grave,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +but greeted the newcomer with a respectful +curtsey.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how do you do, Elizabeth!" said the +strange lady. "How is Mr. Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Montfort is very well, thank you, +mum!" said Elizabeth. "He is in town, +mum. He'll hardly be back before evening. +Would you like to see Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Montfort? Oh, the little girl who is +staying here. You needn't trouble to call her +just now, Elizabeth. Send for Willis, will +you, and have him take my trunks in; I have +come to stay. He may put them in the +White Rooms."</p> + +<p>"I—I beg pardon, mum!" faltered Elizabeth. +"In the Blue Room, did you say? +The Blue Room has been new done over, +and that is where we have put visitors +lately."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort!" said the lady, +sharply. "I said the White Rooms; Mrs. +Cheriton's rooms."</p> + +<p>Margaret stayed to hear no more. A +stranger in the White Rooms! Aunt Faith's +rooms, which she could not bear to occupy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +herself, though her uncle had urged her to do +so? And such a stranger as this, with such +a voice,—and such a nose! Never! never, +while there was breath to pant with, while +there were feet to run with!</p> + +<p>Never but once in her life had Margaret +Montfort run as she did now; that once was +when she flew up the secret staircase to save +her cousin from burning. In a flash she was +in her own room—what had been her room!—gathering +things frantically in her arms, +snatching books from the table, dresses from +the closets. Down the back stairs she ran +like a whirlwind; down, and up, and down +again. Had the girl gone suddenly mad?</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, when Elizabeth, her eyes +smarting with angry tears, opened the door +of the White Parlour,—Willis the choreman +behind her, grunting and growling, with a +trunk on his shoulder,—a young lady was sitting +in the great white armchair, quietly reading. +The young lady's cheeks were crimson, her +eyes were sparkling, and her breath came in +short, quick gasps, which showed that what she +was reading must be very exciting; what made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +it the more curious was that the book was +upside down. But she was entirely composed, +and evidently surprised at the sudden +intrusion.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Elizabeth?" asked Margaret, +quietly.</p> + +<p>"I—I—I beg your pardon, Miss Montfort!" +said Elizabeth, whose eyes were beginning +to brighten, too, and her lips to twitch +dangerously. "I—I didn't know, miss, as +you had—moved in yet. Here is Miss +Sophronia Montfort, miss, as perhaps you +would like to see her."</p> + +<p>The strange lady was already glaring over +Willis's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" she said. "What does +this mean? These rooms are not occupied; I +was positively told they were not occupied. +There must be some mistake. Willis—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is a mistake!" said Margaret, +coming forward, and holding out her hand +with a smile. "Is this Cousin Sophronia? I +am Margaret, Cousin Sophronia. Uncle John +asked me to take these rooms, and I—I feel +quite at home in them already. Would you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +like the Pink, or the Blue Room? They are +both ready, aren't they, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Montfort," said Elizabeth, +"quite ready."</p> + +<p>The strange lady's eyes glared wider and +wider; her chest heaved; she seemed about to +break out in a torrent of angry speech; but +making a visible effort, she controlled herself. +"How do you do, my—my dear?" she +said, taking Margaret's offered hand, and +giving it a little pinch with the tips of her +fingers. "I—a little misunderstanding, no +doubt. Willis,—the Blue Room,—for the +present!" But Willis was suffering from a +sudden and violent fit of coughing, which +shook his whole frame, and made it necessary +for him to rest his trunk against the wall and +lean against it, with his head down; so that +it was fully five minutes before Miss Sophronia +Montfort's trunk got up to the Blue Room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE UNEXPECTED.</h3> + + +<p>When Mr. Montfort came home that afternoon, +Margaret was waiting for him, as usual, +on the verandah; as usual, for she was determined +to keep the worry out of her face and +out of her voice. But as her uncle came up +the steps, with his cheery "Well! and how's +my lassie?" he was confronted by Miss +Sophronia Montfort, who, passing Margaret +swiftly, advanced with both hands held out, +and a beaming smile.</p> + +<p>"My dearest John! my poor, dear fellow! +Confess that I have surprised you. Confess +it, John!—you did not expect to see me."</p> + +<p>"Sophronia!" exclaimed Mr. Montfort. He +stood still and contemplated the visitor for a +moment; then he shook hands with her, +rather formally.</p> + +<p>"You certainly have surprised me, Sophro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>nia!" +he said, kindly enough. "What wind +has blown you in this direction?"</p> + +<p>"The wind of affection, my dear boy!" +cried the strange lady. "I have been planning +it, ever since I heard of Aunt Faith's death. +Dearest Aunt Faith! What a loss, John! what +an irreparable loss! I shall never recover from +the shock. The moment I heard of it, I said—William +would tell you, if he were here—I +said, 'I must go to John! He will need me +now,' I said, 'and go I must.' I explained to +William that I felt it as a solemn duty. He +took it beautifully, poor, dear fellow. I don't +know how they will get on without me, for +his wife is sadly heedless, John, and the children +need a steady hand, they do indeed. But +he did not try to keep me back; indeed, he +urged me to come, which showed such a +beautiful spirit, didn't it? And so here I am, +my dearest boy, come to take Aunt Faith's +place, and make a home for you, my poor +lonely cousin. You know I have always +loved you as a sister, John, and you must consider +me a real sister now; sister Sophronia, +dear John!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>The lady paused for breath, and gazed +tenderly on Mr. Montfort; that gentleman +returned her gaze with one of steady gravity.</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to have a visit from you, +Sophronia," he said. "I have no doubt we +can make you comfortable for a few weeks; +I can hardly suppose that William can spare +you longer than that. We have no children +here to need your—your ministrations."</p> + +<p>The lady shook her head playfully; she had +thin curls of a grayish yellow, which almost +rattled when she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Always self-denying, John!" she cried. +"The same unselfish, good, sterling fellow! +But I understand, my friend; I know how it +really is, and I shall do my duty, and stand +by you; depend upon that! And this dear +child, too!" she added, turning to Margaret +and taking her hand affectionately. "So +young, so unexperienced! and to be attempting +the care of a house like Fernley! How +could you think of it, John? But we will +make that all right. I shall be—we can +hardly say a mother, can we, my dear? but +an elder sister, to you, too. Oh, we shall be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +very happy, I am sure. The drawing-room +carpets are looking very shabby, John. I am +ready to go over the dear old house from top +to bottom, and make it over new; of course +you did not feel like making any changes +while dear Aunt Faith was with you. Such a +mistake, I always say, to shake the aged out +of their ruts. Yes! so wise of you! and who +is in the neighbourhood, John?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know," said Mr. Montfort. "You +know I live rather a hermit life, Sophronia. +Mrs. Peyton is here; I believe you are fond of +her."</p> + +<p>"Sweet Emily Peyton!" exclaimed Miss +Sophronia, with enthusiasm. "Is that exquisite +creature here? That will indeed be a +pleasure. Ah, John, she should never have +been Emily Peyton; you know my opinion on +that point." She nodded her head several +times, with an air of mysterious understanding. +"And widowed, after all, and once +more alone in the world. How does she bear +her sorrow, John?"</p> + +<p>"I have not seen her," said Mr. Montfort, +rather shortly. "From what I hear, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +seems to bear it with considerable fortitude. +Perhaps you forget that it is fully ten years +since Mr. Peyton died, Sophronia. But Margaret +here can tell you more than I can about +Mrs. Peyton; she goes to see her now and +then. Mrs. Peyton is something of an invalid, +and likes to have her come."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" cried Miss Sophronia. "I should +hardly have fancied—Emily Peyton was always +so mature in her thought, so critical in +her observations; but no doubt she is lonely, +and glad of any society; and sweet Margaret +is most sympathetic, I am sure. Sympathy, +my dear John! how could we live without +it, my poor dear fellow?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to walk," said Mr. Montfort, +abruptly. "Margaret, will you come? Sophronia, +you will be glad of a chance to rest; +you must be tired after your long drive."</p> + +<p>"This once, yes, dearest John!" said the +lady. "This once you must go without me. +I am tired,—so thoughtful of you to notice +it! There is no sofa in the Blue Room, but I +shall do very well there for a few days. +Don't have me on your mind in the least,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +my dear cousin; I shall soon be absolutely at +home. Enjoy your walk, both of you! After +to-day, I shall always be with you, I hope. I +ordered tea an hour earlier, as I dined early, +and I knew you would not mind. Good-bye!" +and the lady nodded, and smiled herself into +the house.</p> + +<p>Margaret went for her hat in silence, and +in silence she and her uncle walked along. +Mr. Montfort was smoking, not in his usual +calm and dignified manner, but in short, +fierce puffs; smoking fast and violently. Margaret +did not dare to speak, and they walked +a mile or more without exchanging a word.</p> + +<p>"Margaret," said her uncle, at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"No, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>They walked another mile, and presently +stopped at the top of a breezy hill, to draw +breath, and look about them. The sun was +going down in a cheerful blaze; the whole +country smiled, and was glad of its own +beauty. Mr. Montfort gazed about him, and +heaved a long sigh of content.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pretty! Pretty country!" he said. +"Spreading fields, quiet woods, sky over +all, undisturbed. Yes! You are very silent, +my dear. Have I been silent, too, or have +I been talking?"</p> + +<p>"What a curious question!" thought Margaret.</p> + +<p>"You—you have not said much, Uncle +John," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, my love, that may be because there +isn't much to say. Some situations, Margaret, +are best met in silence."</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded. She knew her uncle's +ways pretty well by this time.</p> + +<p>"And yet," continued Mr. Montfort, "it +may be well to have just a word of understanding +with you, my dear child. Sophronia +Montfort is my own cousin, my first cousin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle John," said Margaret, as he +seemed to pause for a reply.</p> + +<p>"Ri tumpty,—that is to say, there is no +gainsaying that fact,—my own cousin. And +by natural consequence, Margaret, the own +cousin of your father, and by further consequence, +your first cousin once removed. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +is—a—it is many years since she has been +at Fernley; we must try to make her comfortable +during the time—the short time—she +is with us. You have put her in the Blue +Room; that is comfortable, is it, and properly +fitted up,—all the modern inconveniences +and abominations, eh?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort's own room had a bare floor, +a bed, a table, a chest of drawers, and a +pitcher and basin and bath that might have +been made for Cormoran or Blunderbore, +whichever was the bigger.</p> + +<p>"Everything, I think, uncle," faltered Margaret, +turning crimson, and beginning to +tremble. "Oh! Oh, Uncle John! I have +something to tell you. I—I don't know +how to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Don't try, then, my dear," said Uncle +John, in his own kind way. "Perhaps it +isn't necessary."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it is necessary. I shall have no +peace till I do, uncle,—you remember you +asked me to take the White Rooms; you +surely asked me, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, my child," said Mr. Montfort,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +wondering much. "But I wished you to do +as you pleased, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes! Oh, uncle, that was it! When +Cousin Sophronia came, she—she told Elizabeth +to have her trunks carried into the +White Rooms."</p> + +<p>"So!" said Mr. Montfort.</p> + +<p>"Yes, uncle! I was in the passage, and +heard her give the order, and I—I could +not bear it, Uncle John, I could not, indeed. +I flew up-stairs, and brought down some of +my things,—all I could carry in two trips,—and, +when they came in with the trunk, +I—I was sitting there, and—and wondering +why they came into my room. Uncle John, +do you see? Was it very, very wicked?"</p> + +<p>For all reply, Mr. Montfort went off into a +fit of laughter so prolonged and violent, that +Margaret, who at first tried to join in timidly, +became alarmed for him. "Ho! ho! ho!" +he laughed, throwing his head back, and +expanding his broad chest. "Ha! ha! ha! +so you—ho! ho!—you got in first, little +miss! Why wasn't I there to see? Oh, why +wasn't I there? I would give a farm, a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +farm, to have seen Sophronia's face. Tell me +about it again, Margaret. Tell me slowly, so +that I may see it all. You have a knack of +description, I know; show me the scene."</p> + +<p>Slowly, half frightened, and wholly relieved, +Margaret went through the matter from beginning +to end, making as light as she could +of her own triumph, of which she really felt +ashamed, pleased as she was to have achieved +it. When she had finished, her uncle sat +down under a tree, and laughed again; not +so violently, but with a hearty enjoyment +that took in every detail.</p> + +<p>"And Willis had a fit of coughing!" he +exclaimed, when Margaret had come to the +last word. "Poor Willis! Willis must see a +doctor at once. Consumptive, no doubt; and +concealed under such a deceptive appearance +of brawn! Ho! Margaret, my dear, I feel +better, much better. You have cleared the +air for me, my child."</p> + +<p>"You—are not angry, then, Uncle John? +You don't think I ought to have put Cousin +Sophronia in the rooms?"</p> + +<p>"My love, they should have been burned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +to the ground sooner. There was only one +person in the world whom your Aunt Faith +could not endure, and that person was Sophronia +Montfort. You did perfectly right, +Margaret; more right than you knew. If she +had got into the White Rooms, I should have +been under the necessity of taking her forcibly +out of them (nothing short of force could have +done it), and that would have created an +unpleasantness, you see. Yes! Thank you, my +dear little girl! I feel quite myself again. +We shall worry through, somehow; but remember, +Margaret, that you are the mistress +of Fernley, and, if you have any trouble, +come to me. And now, my love, we must +go home to tea!"</p> + +<p>When the gong rang for tea, Margaret and +her uncle entered the dining-room together—to +find Cousin Sophronia already seated at +the head of the table, rattling the teacups +with intention.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dears!" she cried, in sprightly +tones. "You walked further than you intended, +did you not? I should not have +sat down without you, but I was simply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +famished. I always think punctuality such +an important factor in the economy of life. +It is high time you had some steady head to +look after you, John!" and she shook her +head in affectionate playfulness. "Sit down, +John!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort did not sit down.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you were hungry, Sophronia," +he said, kindly. "I cannot think of letting +you wait to pour tea for me, my dear cousin. +Margaret does that always; you are to sit +here by me, and begin at once upon your +own supper. Allow me!"</p> + +<p>Margaret hardly knew how it was done. +There was a bow, a courtly wave of the +hand, a movement of chairs; and her own +place was vacant, and Cousin Sophronia was +sitting at the side place, very red in the face, +her eyes snapping out little green lights; and +Uncle John was bending over her with cordial +kindness, pushing her chair in a little +further, and lifting the train of her dress +out of the way. With downcast eyes, Margaret +took her place, and poured the tea in +silence. She felt as if a weight were on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +eyelids; she could not lift her eyes; she +could not speak, and yet she must. She +shook herself, and made a great effort.</p> + +<p>"How do you like your tea, Cousin Sophronia?" +she asked, in a voice that tried +to sound cheerful and unconcerned. And, +when she had spoken, she managed, with +another effort, to look up. Cousin Sophronia +was smiling and composed, and met her timid +glance with an affectionate nod.</p> + +<p>"Weak, my dear, if you please,—weak, +with cream and sugar. Yes,—that will be excellent, +I have no doubt. I have to be a little +exact about my tea, my nerves being what +they are. The nights I have, if my tea is not +precisely the right shade! It seems absurd, +but life is made up of little things, my dear +John. And very right and wise, to have the +dear child learn to do these things, and practise +on us, even if it is a little trying at +first. Is that the beef tea, Elizabeth? Thank +you. I told Frances to make me some beef +tea, John; I knew hers could be depended +on, though I suppose she has grown rusty in +a good many ways, with this hermit life of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +yours,—so bad for a cook, I always think. +Yes, this is fair, but not quite what I should +have expected from Frances. I must see her +in the morning, and give her a good rousing; +we all need a good rousing once in awhile. +Frances and I have always been the best of +friends; we shall get on perfectly, I have no +doubt. Ah! The old silver looks well, John. +Where did that sugar-bowl come from? Is it +Montfort, or Paston? Paston, I fancy! The +Montfort silver is heavier, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly!" said Mr. Montfort. "That +sugar-bowl is neither one nor the other, however. +It is Dutch."</p> + +<p>"Really! Vanderdecken? I didn't know +you had any Vanderdecken silver, John. +Grandmother Vanderdecken left all her silver, +I thought, to our branch. Such a mistake, +I always think, to scatter family silver. +Let each branch have <i>all</i> that belongs to it, I +always say. I feel very strongly about it."</p> + +<p>"This is not Vanderdecken," said Mr. +Montfort, patiently. "I bought it in Amsterdam."</p> + +<p>"Oh! in Amsterdam! indeed! boughten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +silver never appeals to me. And speaking of +silver, I have wished for years that I could +find a trace of the old Vanderdecken porringer. +You remember it, surely, John, at +Grandmother Vanderdecken's? She had her +plum porridge in it every night, and I used to +play with the cow on the cover. I have +tried and tried to trace it, but have never +succeeded. Stolen, I fear, by some dishonest +servant."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Cousin Sophronia," +said Margaret, blushing. "I have the old +Vanderdecken porringer, if it is the one with +the cow on the cover."</p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i>" cried Miss Sophronia, opening her +eyes to their fullest extent.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Margaret replied. "There it is, on +the sideboard. I have eaten bread and milk +out of it ever since I can remember, and I +still use it at breakfast."</p> + +<p>Speechless for the moment, Miss Sophronia +made an imperious sign to Elizabeth, who +brought her the beautiful old dish, not without +a glance of conscious pride at the wonderful +blue polish on it. There was no piece of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +plate in the house that took so perfect a +polish as this.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia turned it over and over. +Her eyes were very green. "Margaret +Bleecker. On the occasion of her christening, +from her godmother," she read. "Yes, +this is certainly the Vanderdecken porringer. +And may I ask how you came by it, my +dear?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Cousin Sophronia. Aunt Eliza +Vanderdecken gave it to me at my christening; +she was my godmother, you see."</p> + +<p>"A most extraordinary thing for Eliza +Vanderdecken to do!" cried the lady. "Eliza +Vanderdecken knew, of course, that she was +meant to have but a life-interest in the personal +property, as she never married. I cannot +understand Eliza's doing such a thing. I +have longed all my life for this porringer; +I have associations with it, you see, lifelong +associations. I remember my Grandmother +Vanderdecken distinctly; you never saw her, +of course, as she died years before you were +born."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Margaret, gently, but not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +without intention. "And I, Cousin Sophronia, +associate it with Aunt Eliza, whom I +remember distinctly, and who was my godmother, +and very kind to me. I value this +porringer more than almost any of my possessions. +Thank you, Elizabeth; if you would +put it back, please. Will you have some more +tea, Cousin Sophronia?"</p> + +<p>"Let me give you another bit of chicken, +Sophronia!" said Mr. Montfort, heartily. +"I think we have had enough about porringers, +haven't we? There are six or seven, I +believe, in the strong closet. One of 'em was +Adam's, I've always been told. A little gravy, +Sophronia? You're eating nothing."</p> + +<p>"I have no appetite!" said Miss Sophronia. +"You know I only eat to support life, John. +A side-bone, then, if you insist, and a tiny bit +of the breast. William always says, 'You +must live,' and I suppose I must. Cranberry +sauce! Thank you! I am really too exhausted +to enjoy a morsel, but I will make an effort. +We <i>can</i> do what we <i>try</i> to do, I always say. +Thank you, dearest John. I dare say I shall +be better to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE TRIALS OF MARGARET.</h3> + + +<p>Margaret woke early the next morning, +and lay wondering where she was. Her eyes +were used to opening on rose-flowered walls +and mahogany bed-posts. Here all was soft +and white, no spot of colour anywhere. She +came to herself with a start, and yesterday +with its happenings came back to her. She +sighed, and a little worried wrinkle came on +her smooth forehead. What a change, in a few +short hours! Was all their peaceful, dreamy +life over, the life that suited both her and her +uncle so absolutely? They had been so happy! +Was it over indeed? It seemed at first as if +she could not get up and face the cares of the +day, under the new conditions. Indolent by +nature, Margaret dreaded change, and above +change unpleasantness; it seemed as if she +might have plenty of both. She rose and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +dressed in a despondent mood; but when her +hair was pinned up and her collar straight, +she took herself to task. "I give you three +minutes!" she said, looking at herself in the +glass. "If you can't look cheerful by that +time, you can go to bed again."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.png" width="270" height="400" alt=""AFTERWARDS SHE SALLIED OUT INTO THE GARDEN."" title=""AFTERWARDS SHE SALLIED OUT INTO THE GARDEN."" /> +<span class="caption">"AFTERWARDS SHE SALLIED OUT INTO THE GARDEN."</span> +</div> + +<p>The threat, or something else, carried the +point, for it was an entirely cheerful young +woman who came into the library, with a rose +for Uncle John's buttonhole. Miss Montfort +was already there, and responded with sad +sprightliness to Margaret's greeting. "Thank +you, my dear! I was just telling your uncle, +it is a mere matter of form to ask if I have +slept. I seldom sleep, especially if I am +up-stairs. The servants over my head, it may +be,—or if not that, I have the feeling of insecurity,—stairs, +you understand, in case of +fire. Dear William had my rooms fitted up +on the ground floor. 'Sophronia,' he said, +'you must sleep!' I suppose it is necessary, +but I am so used to lying awake. Such +frightful noises in the walls, my dear John! +Rats, I suppose? Has the wainscoting been +examined lately, in the room you have put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +me in? Not that it matters in the least; I +am the person in the world most easily suited, +I suppose. A cot, a corner, a crust, as William +says, and I am satisfied."</p> + +<p>It took several crusts to satisfy Miss +Sophronia at breakfast. Afterwards she sallied +out into the garden, where Mr. Montfort +was enjoying his morning cigar, with Margaret +at his side. "You dear child," said the +sprightly lady, "run now and amuse yourself, +or attend to any little duties you may have +set yourself. So important, I always say, for +the young to be regular in everything they +do. I am sure you agree with me, dearest +John. I will be your uncle's companion, my +love; that is my duty and my pleasure now. +I must see your roses, John! No one in the +world loves roses as I do. What do you use +for them? I have a recipe for an infallible +wash; I must give it to you, I must indeed."</p> + +<p>Margaret went into the house; there was +no place for her, for the lady was leaning on +Mr. Montfort's arm, chattering gaily in his +ear. Margaret was conscious of an unpleasant +sensation which was entirely new to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +She had always been with people she liked. +Rita had often distressed her, but still she +was most lovable, with all her faults. Cousin +Sophronia was—not—lovable, the girl said +to herself.</p> + +<p>It was a relief to visit the kitchen, and +find Frances beaming over her bread-pan. +The good woman hailed Margaret with delight, +and received her timid suggestions as +to dinner with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Margaret, I do think as a chicken-pie +would be the very thing. I've a couple +of fowl in the house now, and what would +you think of putting in a bit of ham, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Margaret. "Is that what you +usually do, Frances? Then I am sure it will +be just right. And about a pudding; what +do you think, Frances? You know so many +kinds of puddings, and they are all so good!"</p> + +<p>Well, Frances had been thinking that if Miss +Margaret should fancy apple-fritters, Mr. Montfort +was fond of them, and they had not had +them this month. And lemon-juice with them, +or a little sugar and wine; which did Miss +Margaret think would be best? This was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +delightful way of keeping house; and after +praising the bread, which was rising white +and light in the great pan, and poking the +bubbles with her little finger, and begging +that she might be allowed to mix it some day +soon, Margaret went back in a better humour +to the White Rooms, and sat down resolutely +to her buttonholes. There would be no walk +this morning, evidently; well, when she had +done her hour's stint, she would go for a little +stroll by herself. After all, perhaps Uncle +John would, when the strangeness had worn +off a little, enjoy having some one of his +own age to talk to; of course she was very +young, too young to be much of a companion. +Still,—</p> + +<p>Well, she would be cheerful and patient, +and try to make things pleasant so far as she +could. And now she could only go and wish +Uncle John good-bye when he started for +town, and perhaps walk to the station with +him, if he was going to walk.</p> + +<p>While she sat sewing, glancing at the clock +from time to time, Cousin Sophronia came in, +work-bag in hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is gone!" she said, cheerfully. "I +saw him off at the gate. Dearest John! Excellent, +sterling John Montfort! Such a +pleasure to be with him! Such a joy to feel +that I can make a home for him!"</p> + +<p>"Gone!" echoed Margaret, looking up in +dismay. "Why, surely it is not train time!"</p> + +<p>"An early train, my love," the lady explained. +"Your dear uncle felt obliged to +start an hour earlier than usual, he explained +to me. These busy men! And how are you +occupying yourself, my dear? Ah! buttonholes? +Most necessary! But, my love, you +are working these the wrong way!"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," said Margaret. "This +is the way I have always made them, Cousin +Sophronia."</p> + +<p>"Wrong, my dear! Quite wrong, I assure +you. Impossible to get a smooth edge if you +work them that way. Let me—h'm! yes! +that is fairly even, I confess; but the other +way is the correct one, you must take my +word for it; and I will show you how, with +pleasure. So important, I always say, to do +things just as they should be done!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>In vain Margaret protested that she understood +the other way, but preferred this. She +finally, for quiet's sake, yielded, and pricked +her fingers, and made herself hot and cross, +working the wrong way.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia next began to cross-question +her about Mrs. Cheriton's last days. Such a +saintly woman! Austere, some thought; perhaps +not always charitable—</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Margaret, indignant. "Cousin +Sophronia, you cannot have known Aunt Faith +at all. She was the very soul of charity; and +as for being austere—but it is evident you +did not know her." She tried to keep down +her rising temper, with thoughts of the sweet, +serene eyes that had never met hers without a +look of love.</p> + +<p>"I knew her before you were born, my +dear!" said Miss Sophronia, with a slightly +acid smile. "Oh, yes, I was intimately acquainted +with dear Aunt Faith. I have never +thought it right to be blind to people's little +failings, no matter how much we love them. +I always tell my brother William, 'William, +do not ask me to be blind! Ask me, expect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +me, to be indulgent, to be devoted, to be self-sacrificing,—but +not blind; blindness is contrary +to my nature, and you must not expect +it.' Yes! And—what was done with the +clothes, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"The clothes?" echoed Margaret. "Aunt +Faith's clothes, do you mean, Cousin Sophronia?"</p> + +<p>"No. I meant the Montfort clothes; the +heirlooms, my dear. But perhaps you never +saw them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I have seen them often," said +Margaret. "They are in the cedar chest, +Cousin Sophronia, where they have always +been. It is in the deep closet there," she +nodded towards an alcove at the other end of +the room.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia rose with alacrity. "Ah! +I think I will look them over. Very valuable, +some of those clothes are; quite unsuitable, +I have thought for some years, to have +them under the charge of an aged person, +who could not in the course of nature be +expected to see to them properly. I fear I +shall find them in a sad condition."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her hand was already on the door, when +Margaret was able to speak. "Excuse me, +Cousin Sophronia; the chest is locked."</p> + +<p>"Very proper! Entirely proper!" cried the +lady. "And you have the key? That will not +do, will it, my love? Too heavy for these dear +young shoulders, such a weight of responsibility! +I will take entire charge of this; not a +word! It will be a pleasure! Where is the +key, did you say, love?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle John has the key!" said Margaret, +quietly; and blamed herself severely for the +pleasure she felt in saying it.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Miss Montfort paused, her hand on +the door; for a moment she seemed at a loss; +but she went on again.</p> + +<p>"Right, Margaret! Very right, my love! +You felt yourself, or your uncle felt for you, +the unfitness of your having charge of such +valuables. Ahem! I—no doubt dear John +will give me the key, as soon as I mention it. +I—I shall not speak of it at once; there is +no hurry—except for the danger of moth. +An old house like Fernley is always riddled +with moth. I fear the clothes must be quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +eaten away with them. Such a sad pity! The +accumulation of generations!"</p> + +<p>Margaret hastened to assure her that the +clothes were looked over regularly once a +month, and that no sign of moths had ever +been found in them. Miss Sophronia sighed +and shook her head, and crocheted for some +minutes in silence; she was making a brown +and yellow shoulder-shawl. Margaret thought +she had never seen a shawl so ugly.</p> + +<p>"Has Cousin William Montfort any daughters?" +she asked, presently, thinking it her +turn to bear some of the burden of entertainment.</p> + +<p>"Four, my dear!" was the prompt reply. +"Sweet girls! young, heedless, perhaps not +always considerate; but the sweetest girls +in the world. Amelia is just your age; +what a companion she would be for you! +Dear Margaret! I must write to William, I +positively must, and suggest his asking you +for a good long visit. Such a pleasure for +you and for Amelia! Not a word, my dear! I +shall consider it a duty, a positive duty! +Amelia is thought to resemble me in many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +ways; she is the image of what I was at her +age. I am forming her; her mother is something +of an invalid, as I think I have told you. +The older girls are away from home just now,—they +make a good many visits; I am +always there, and they feel that they can go. +If they were at home, I should beg dear John +Montfort to invite Amelia here; such a pleasure +for him, to have young life in the house. +But as it is, William must ask you. Consider +it settled, my love. A—what was done with +Aunt Faith's jewels, my dear? She had some +fine pearls, I remember. Vanderdecken pearls +they were originally; I should hardly suppose +Aunt Faith would have felt that she had more +than a life interest in them. And the great +amethyst necklace; did she ever show you her +jewels, my love?"</p> + +<p>Margaret blushed, and braced herself to +meet the shock. "I have them, Cousin +Sophronia!" she said, meekly. "Aunt Faith +wanted me to have all her jewels, and she +gave them to me before—before she died." +Her voice failed, and the tears rushed to her +eyes. She was thinking of the frail, white-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>clad +figure bending over the ancient jewel-box, +and taking out the pearls. She heard the soft +voice saying, "Your great-grandmother's pearls, +my Margaret; they are yours now. Wear +them for me, and let me have the pleasure of +seeing them on your neck. You are my +pearl, Margaret; the only pearl I care for +now." Dear, dearest Aunt Faith. Why was +she not here?</p> + +<p>Before Miss Sophronia could recover her +power of speech, a knock came at the door.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Margaret!" said +Elizabeth, putting her head in, in answer to +Margaret's "Come in!" "The butcher is +here, miss, and Frances thought perhaps, +would you come out and see him, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" said Margaret, rising; but +Miss Sophronia was too quick for her.</p> + +<p>"In a moment!" she cried, cheerfully. +"Tell Frances I will be there in a moment, +Elizabeth! Altogether too much for you, dear +Margaret, to have so much care. <i>I</i> cannot +have too much care! It is what I live for; +give the household matters no further thought, +I beg of you. You might be setting your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +bureau drawers in order, if you like, while I +am seeing the butcher; I always look over +Amelia's drawers once a week—"</p> + +<p>She glided away, leaving Margaret white +with anger. How was she to endure this? +She was nearly eighteen; she had taken care +of herself ever since she was seven, and had +attained, or so she fancied, perfection, in the +matter of bureau-drawers, at the age of twelve. +To have her precious arrangements looked +over, her boxes opened, her—oh, there could +be, there <i>was</i> no reason why she should submit +to this! She locked the drawers quietly, one +after the other, and put the key in her +pocket. She would be respectful; she would +be civil always, and cordial when she could, +but she would not be imposed upon.</p> + +<p>By the time Miss Sophronia came back, +Margaret was composed, and greeted her +cousin with a pleasant smile; but this time it +was the lady who was agitated. She came +hurrying in, her face red, her air perturbed. +"Insufferable!" she cried, as soon as the door +was closed. "Margaret, that woman is insufferable! +She must leave at once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Woman! what woman, Cousin Sophronia?" +asked Margaret, looking up in amazement.</p> + +<p>"That Frances! She—why, she is impertinent, +Margaret. She insulted me; insulted +me grossly. I shall speak to John Montfort +directly he returns. She must go; I cannot +stay in the house with her."</p> + +<p>Go! Frances, who had been at Fernley +twenty years; for whom the new kitchen, now +only fifteen years old, had been planned and +arranged! Margaret was struck dumb for a +moment; but recovering herself, she tried to +soothe the angry lady, assuring her that +Frances could not have meant to be disrespectful; +that she had a quick temper, but was so +good and faithful, and so attached to Uncle +John; and so on. In another moment, to her +great discomfiture, Miss Sophronia burst into +tears, declared that she was alone in the +world, that no one loved her or wanted her, +and that she was the most unhappy of women. +Filled with remorseful pity, Margaret bent +over her, begging her not to cry. She brought +a smelling-bottle, and Miss Sophronia clutched +it, sobbing, and told Margaret she was an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +angelic child. "This—this is—a Vanderdecken +vinaigrette!" she said, between her +sobs. "Did Eliza Vanderdecken give you +this, too? Very singular of Eliza! But she +never had any sense of fitness. Thank you +my dear! I suffer—no living creature knows +what I suffer with my nerves. I—shall be +better soon. Don't mind anything I said; I +must suffer, but it shall always be in silence, +I always maintain that. No one shall know; +I never speak of it; I am the grave, for +silence. Do not—do not tell your uncle, +Margaret, how you have seen me suffer. Do +not betray my momentary weakness!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" said Margaret, heartily. +"I will not say a word, Cousin Sophronia, of +course!"</p> + +<p>"He would wish to know!" said Miss +Sophronia, smothering a sob into a sigh. +"John Montfort would be furious if he +thought I was ill-treated, and we were concealing +it from him. He is a lion when once +roused. Ah! I should be sorry for that +woman. But forgiveness is a duty, my dear, +and I forgive. See! I am myself again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Quite—" with a hysterical giggle—"quite +myself! I—I will take the vinaigrette to my +room with me, I think, my dear. Thank +you! Dear Margaret! cherub child! how you +have comforted me!" She went, and Margaret +heard her sniffing along the entry; +heard, and told herself she had no business to +notice such things; and went back rather +ruefully to her buttonholes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>A NEW TYPE.</h3> + + +<p>"My child, I thought you were never coming +again!" said Mrs. Peyton. "Do you +know that it is a week since I have seen you? +I have been destroyed,—positively destroyed, +with solitude."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," said Margaret. "I could +not come before; truly I could not, Mrs. Peyton. +And how have you been?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton leaned back on her pillows, +with a little laugh. "Who cares how I have +been?" she said, lightly. "What does it +matter how I have been? Tell me some +news, Margaret. I must have news. You +are alive, you move, and have your being; +tell me something that will make me feel +alive, too."</p> + +<p>Margaret looked at the lady, and thought +she looked very much alive. She was a vision<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +of rose colour, from the silk jacket fluttering +with ribbons, to the pink satin that shimmered +through the lace bed-spread. The rosy +colour almost tinted her cheeks, which were +generally the hue of warm ivory. Her hair, +like crisped threads of gold, was brought +down low on her forehead, hiding any lines +that might have been seen there; it was +crowned by a bit of cobweb lace, that seemed +too slight to support the pink ribbon that +held it together. The lady's hands were +small, and exquisitely formed, and she wore +several rings of great value; her eyes were +blue and limpid, her features delicate and +regular. Evidently, this had been a great +beauty. To Margaret, gazing at her in +honest admiration, she was still one of the +most beautiful creatures that could be seen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton laughed under the girl's simple +look of pleasure. "You like my new jacket?" +she said. "The doctor never so much as noticed +it this morning. I think I shall send +him away, and get another, who has eyes in +his head. You are the only person who +really cares for my clothes, Margaret, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +they are the only interest I have in the +world."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk so!" said Margaret, +colouring. "You don't mean it, and +why will you say it?"</p> + +<p>"I do mean it!" said the beautiful lady. +"I mean every word of it. There's nothing +else to care for, except you, you dear little +old-fashioned thing. I like you, because you +are quaint and truthful. Have you seen my +pink pearl? You are not half observant, +that's the trouble with you, Margaret Montfort."</p> + +<p>She held out her slender hand; Margaret +took it, and bent over it affectionately. +"Oh, what a beautiful ring!" she cried. +"I never saw a pink pearl like this before, +Mrs. Peyton, so brilliant, and such a deep +rose colour. Isn't it very wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"The jeweller thought so," said Mrs. Peyton. +"He asked enough for it; it might have +been the companion to Cleopatra's. The opal +setting is pretty, too, don't you think? And +I have some new stones. You will like to see +those."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>She took up a small bag of chamois leather, +that lay on the bed beside her, opened it, and +a handful of precious stones rolled out on the +lace spread. Margaret caught after one and +another in alarm. "Oh! Oh, Mrs. Peyton, +they frighten me! Why, this diamond—I +never saw such a diamond. It's as big as +a pea."</p> + +<p>"Imperfect!" said the lady. "A flaw in it, +you see; but the colour is good, and it does +just as well for a plaything, though I don't +like flawed things, as a rule. This sapphire +is a good one,—deep, you see; I like a deep +sapphire."</p> + +<p>"This light one is nearer your eyes," +said Margaret, taking up a lovely clear blue +stone.</p> + +<p>"Flatterer! People used to say that once; +a long time ago. Heigh ho, Margaret, don't +ever grow old! Take poison, or throw yourself +out of the window, but don't grow old. +It's a shocking thing to do."</p> + +<p>Margaret looked at her friend with troubled, +affectionate eyes, and laid her hand on the +jewelled fingers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean it!" said the lady, with a +pretty little grimace. "I mean it, Miss Puritan. +See! Here's a pretty emerald. But you +haven't told me the news. Mr. Montfort is +well always?"</p> + +<p>"Always!" said Margaret. "We—we +have a visitor just now, Mrs. Peyton,—some +one you know."</p> + +<p>"Some one I know?" cried Mrs. Peyton. +"I thought every one I knew was dead and +buried. Who is it, child? Don't keep me in +suspense. Can't you see that I am palpitating?"</p> + +<p>She laughed, and looked so pretty, and so +malicious, that Margaret wanted to kiss and +to shake her at the same moment.</p> + +<p>"It is a cousin of Uncle John's and of +mine," she said; "Miss Sophronia Montfort."</p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>" cried Mrs. Peyton, sitting up in +bed. "Sophronia Montfort? You are joking, +Margaret."</p> + +<p>Assured that Margaret was not joking, she +fell back again on her pillows. "Sophronia +Montfort!" she said, laughing softly. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +have not heard of her since the flood. How +does John—how does Mr. Montfort endure +it, Pussy? He was not always a patient +man."</p> + +<p>Margaret thought her uncle one of the most +patient men she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"And how many men have you seen, little +girl? Never mind! I will allow him all the +qualities of the Patient Patriarch. He will +need them all, if he is to have Sophronia +long. I am sorry for you, Pussy! Come +over as often as you can to see me. I am +dull, but there are worse things than dullness."</p> + +<p>This was not very encouraging.</p> + +<p>"She—Cousin Sophronia—sent you a +great many messages," Margaret said, timidly. +"She—is very anxious to see you, +Mrs. Peyton. She would like to come over +some morning, and spend an hour with you."</p> + +<p>"If she does, I'll poison her!" said Mrs. +Peyton, promptly. "Don't look shocked, Margaret +Montfort; I shall certainly do as I say. +Sophronia comes here at peril of her life, and +you may tell her so with my compliments."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret sat silent and distressed, not +knowing what to say. She had known +very few people in her quiet life, and this +beautiful lady, whom she admired greatly, +also puzzled her sadly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell her that, can I, dear Mrs. +Peyton?" she said, at last. "I shall tell her +that you are not well,—that is true, most +certainly,—and that you do not feel able +to see her."</p> + +<p>"Tell her what you please," said Emily +Peyton, laughing again. "If she comes, I +shall poison her,—that is my first and last +word. Tell her? Tell her that Emily Peyton +is a wreck; that she lies here like a log, +week after week, month after month, caring +for nothing, no one caring for her, except +a kind little girl, who is frightened at her +wild talk. I might try the poison on myself +first, Margaret; what do you think of that?" +Then, seeing Margaret's white, shocked face, +she laughed again, and fell to tossing the +gems into the air, and catching them as they +fell. "It would be a pity, though, just when +I have got all these new playthings. Did you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +bring a book to read to me, little girl? I +can't abide reading, but I like to hear your +voice. You have something, I see it in +your guilty face. Poetry, I'll be bound. +Out with it, witch! You hope to bring me +to a sense of the error of my ways. Why, +I used to read poetry, Margaret, by the dozen +yards. Byron,—does any one read Byron +nowadays?"</p> + +<p>"My father was fond of Byron," said Margaret. +"He used to read me bits of 'Childe +Harold' and the 'Corsair;' I liked them, +and I always loved the 'Assyrian.' But—I +thought you might like something bright +and cheerful to-day, Mrs. Peyton, so I brought +Austin Dobson. Are you fond of Dobson?"</p> + +<p>"Never heard of him!" said the lady, carelessly. +"Read whatever you like, child; +your voice always soothes me. Will you +come and be my companion, Margaret? Your +uncle has Sophronia now; he cannot need +you. Come to me! You shall have a thousand, +two thousand dollars a year, and all +the jewels you want. I'll have these set for +you, if you like."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 268px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.png" width="268" height="400" alt=""'DID YOU BRING A BOOK TO READ TO ME, LITTLE GIRL?'"" title=""'DID YOU BRING A BOOK TO READ TO ME, LITTLE GIRL?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'DID YOU BRING A BOOK TO READ TO ME, LITTLE GIRL?'"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>She seemed only half in earnest, and Margaret +laughed. "You sent your last companion +away, you know, Mrs. Peyton," she +said. "I'm afraid I should not suit you, +either."</p> + +<p>"My dear, that woman ate apples! No +one could endure that, you know. Ate—champed +apples in my ears, and threw the +cores into my grate. Positively, she smelt of +apples all day long. I had to have the room +fumigated when she left. A dreadful person! +One of her front teeth was movable, too, and +set me distracted every time she opened her +mouth. Are you ever going to begin?"</p> + +<p>Margaret read two or three of her favourite +poems, but with little heart in her reading, +for she felt that her listener was not listening. +Now and then would come an impatient +sigh, or a fretful movement of the jewelled +hands; once a sapphire was tossed up in the +air, and fell on the floor by Margaret's feet. +Only when she began the lovely "Good Night, +Babette!" did Mrs. Peyton's attention seem +to fix. She listened quietly, and, at the end, +drew a deep breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You call that bright and cheerful, do +you?" Mrs. Peyton murmured. "Everything +looks cheerful in the morning. Good +night,—"I grow so old,"—how dare you +read me such a thing as that, Margaret +Montfort? It is an impertinence."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Margaret, colouring, and +now really wounded. "I do not understand +you at all to-day, Mrs. Peyton. I don't seem +to be able to please you, and it is time for +me to go."</p> + +<p>She rose, and the lady, her mood changing +again in an instant, took her two hands, and +drew her close to her side.</p> + +<p>"You are my only comfort," she said. +"Do you hear that? You are the only +person in this whole dreadful place that I +would give the half of a burnt straw to +see. Remember that, when I behave too +abominably. Yes, go now, for I am going +to have a bad turn. Send Antonia; and +come again soon—soon, do you hear, Margaret? +But remember—remember that the +poison-bowl waits for Sophronia!"</p> + +<p>"What—shall I give her any message?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +said poor Margaret, as she bent to kiss the +white forehead between the glittering waves +of hair.</p> + +<p>"Give her my malediction," said Mrs. Peyton. +"Tell her it is almost a consolation for +lying here, to think I need not see her. Tell +her anything you like. Go now! Good-bye, +child! Dear little quaint, funny, prim child, +good-bye!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Margaret walked home sadly enough. She +loved and admired her beautiful friend, but +she did not understand her, and there was +much that she could not approve. It seemed +absurd, she often said to herself, for a girl of +her age to criticise, to venture to disapprove, +of a woman old enough to be her mother, one +who had travelled the world over, and knew +plenty of human nature, if little of books. +Yet, the thought would come again, there was +no age to right and wrong; and there were +things that it could not be right to think, +or kind to say, at eighteen or at eighty. +And her uncle did not like Mrs. Peyton. +Margaret felt that, without his having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +ever put it into words. Still, she was so +beautiful, so fascinating,—and so kind to +her! Perhaps, unconsciously, Margaret did +miss a good deal the two young cousins +who had been with her during her first +year at Fernley; surely, and every hour, +she missed her Aunt Faith, whose tenderness +had been that of the mother she had never +known.</p> + +<p>She was in no haste to go home; there was +still an hour before Uncle John would come. +There was little peace at home in these days, +but a prying eye, and a tongue that was seldom +still save in sleep. She had left Elizabeth in +tears to-day, her precious linen having been +pulled over, and all the creases changed because +they ran the wrong way. In vain +Margaret had reminded her of the heroine of +the story she had liked so much, the angelic +Elizabeth of Hungary. "It don't make much +difference, Miss Margaret!" Elizabeth said. +"I am no saint, miss, and all the roses in the +world wouldn't make my table-cloths look fit +to go on, now."</p> + +<p>Frances was "neither to hold or to bind;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +even the two young girls whom the elder +women had in training were tossing their +heads and muttering over their brasses and +their saucepans. The apple of discord seemed +to be rolling all about the once peaceful rooms +of Fernley House. "I'll go home through the +woods," said Margaret, "and see if they have +begun work on the bog yet."</p> + +<p>It was lovely in the woods. Margaret +thought there could be no such woods in the +world as these of Fernley. The pines were +straight and tall, and there was little or no +undergrowth; just clear, fragrant stretches of +brown needles, where one could lie at length +and look up into the whispering green, and +watch the birds and squirrels. There was +moss here and there; here and there, too, a +bed of pale green ferns, delicate and plumy; +but most of it was the soft red-brown carpet +that Margaret loved better even than ferns. +She walked slowly along, drinking in beauty +and rest at every step. If she could only +bring the sick lady out here, she thought, to +breathe this life-giving air! Surely she would +be better! She did not look ill enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +stay always in bed. They must try to bring +it about.</p> + +<p>She stopped at the little brook, and sat +down on a mossy stone. The water was clear +and brown, breaking into white over the +pebbles here and there. How delightful it +would be to take off her shoes and stockings, +and paddle about a little! Peggy, her cousin, +would have been in the water in an instant, +very likely shoes and all; but Margaret was +timid, and it required some resolution to pull +off her shoes and stockings, and a good deal +of glancing over her shoulder, to make sure +that no one was in sight. Indeed, who could +be? The water was cool; oh, so cool and +fresh! She waded a little way; almost lost her +balance on a slippery stone, and fled back to +the bank, laughing and out of breath. A frog +came up to look at her, and goggled in amazement; +she flipped water at him with her hand, +and he vanished indignant. It would be very +pleasant to walk along the bed of the stream, +as far as the entrance to the bog meadow. +Could she venture so far? No, for after all, it +was possible that some of the workmen might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +have arrived and might be in the neighbourhood, +though they were not to begin work till +the next day. Very slowly Margaret drew +her feet out of the clear stream where they +twinkled and looked so white,—Margaret had +pretty feet,—but she could not make up her +mind to put on the shoes and stockings just +yet. She must dry her feet; and this moss +was delightful to walk on. So on she went, +treading lightly and carefully, finding every +step a pure pleasure, till she saw sunlight +breaking through the green, and knew that +she was coming to the edge of the peat bog. +Ah, what memories this place brought to +Margaret's mind! She could see her cousin +Rita, springing out in merry defiance over the +treacherous green meadow; could hear her +scream, and see her sinking deep, deep, into +the dreadful blackness below. Then, like a +flash, came Peggy from the wood, this very +wood she was walking in now, and ran, and +crept, and reached out, and by sheer strength +and cleverness saved Rita from a dreadful +death, while she, Margaret, stood helpless by. +Dear, brave Peggy! Ah, dear girls both! How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +she would like to see them this moment. +Why! Why, what was that?</p> + +<p>Some one was whistling out there in the +open. Whistling a lively, rollicking air, with +a note as clear and strong as a bird's. Horror! +The workmen must have come! Margaret +was down on the grass in an instant, +pulling desperately at her shoes and stockings. +From the panic she was in, one might +have thought that the woods were full of +whistling brigands, all rushing in her direction, +with murder in their hearts. She could +hardly see; there was a knot in her shoe-string; +why did she ever have shoes that +tied? Her heart was beating, the blood +throbbing in her ears,—and all the time +the whistling went on, not coming nearer, +but trilling away in perfect cheerfulness, +though broken now and then, and coming +in fits and starts. At last! At last the +shoes were tied, and Margaret stood up, +still panting and crimson, but feeling that +she could face a robber, or even an innocent +workman, without being disgraced for life. +Cautiously she stole to the edge of the wood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +and peeped between the pine-boles. The sun +lay full on the peat bog, and it shone like a +great, sunny emerald, friendly and smiling, +with no hint of the black treachery at its +heart. No hint? But look! Out in the +very middle of the bog a figure was standing, +balanced on a tussock of firm earth. +A light, active figure, in blue jean jumper +and overalls. One of the workmen, who +did not know of the peril, and was plunging +to his destruction? Margaret opened her +lips to cry aloud, but kept silence, for the +next moment she comprehended that the +young man (he was evidently young, though +his back was turned to her) knew well enough +what he was about. He had a long pole in +his hand, and with this he was poking and +prodding about in the black depths beneath +him. Now he sounded carefully a little way +ahead of him, and then, placing his pole +carefully on another firm spot, leaped to it +lightly. The black bog water gurgled up +about his feet, but he did not sink, only +planted his feet more firmly, and went on +with his sounding. Now he was singing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +What was he singing? What a quaint, +funny air!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"A wealthy young farmer of Plymouth, we hear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He courted a nobleman's daughter, so dear;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And for to be married it was their intent,—</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Hi! muskrat!—come out of there!" He +almost lost his balance, and Margaret +screamed a very small scream, that could +not be heard a dozen yards. Recovering +himself, the young man began to make his +way towards the shore, at a point nearly +opposite to where Margaret stood. Springing +lightly to the firm ground, he took off +his cap, and made a low bow to the bog, +saying at the same time something, Margaret +could not hear what. Then, looking +carefully about him, the young workman +appeared to be selecting a spot of earth +that was to his mind; having done so, he +sat down, took out a note-book, and wrote +with ardour for several minutes. Then he +took off his cap, and ran his fingers through +his hair—which was very curly, and bright +red—till it stood up in every direction; then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +he turned three elaborate somersaults; and +then, with another salute to the bog, and a +prolonged whistle, he went off, leaping on his +pole, and singing, as he went:</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"And for to be mar-ri-ed it was their intent;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All friends and relations had given their consent."</span><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>A LESSON IN GEOGRAPHY.</h3> + + +<p>"Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Can you come here a moment, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, Uncle John. I was looking for +you, and could not find you."</p> + +<p>Margaret came running in from the garden. +Her uncle was sitting in his private study, +which opened directly on the garden, and +communicated by a staircase in the wall with +his bedroom. The study was a pleasant room, +lined with books for the most part, but with +some valuable pictures, and a great table full +of drawers, and several presses or secretaries, +filled with papers and family documents of +every kind. Mr. John Montfort, recluse +though he was, was the head of a large and +important family connection. Few of his +relatives ever saw him, but most of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +were in more or less constant correspondence +with him, and he knew all their secrets, +though not one of them could boast of knowing +his. He was the friend and adviser, the +kindly helper, of many a distant cousin who +had never met the kind, grave glance of his +brown eyes. Peggy Montfort used to say, +in the days when it had pleased him to appear +as John Strong, the gardener, that it +"smoothed her all out," just to look at him; +and many people experienced the same feeling +on receiving one of his letters. No one +had it, however, so strongly as Margaret herself, +or so she thought; and it was with a +sensation of delightful relief that she answered +his call this morning. Mr. Montfort turned +round from the great table at which he was +sitting, and held out his hand affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my child," he said, "and let +me look at you. Look me straight in the +eyes; yes, that will do. You are feeling well, +Margaret? You look well, I must say."</p> + +<p>"Well? Of course, Uncle John! Am I +ever anything else? I have never had a +day's illness since I came here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You do not feel the load of responsibility +too much for your young shoulders?" Mr. +Montfort went on. "It—it is not too dull +for you here, alone month after month with +an elderly man, and a hermit, and one +who has the reputation of a grim and unfriendly +old fellow? What do you say, +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>The quick tears sprang to Margaret's eyes. +She looked up at her uncle, and saw in his +eyes the quizzical twinkle that always half +puzzled and wholly delighted her. "Oh, +uncle!" she cried; "you really deceived me +this time! I might have known you were in +fun,—but you were so grave!"</p> + +<p>"Grave?" said Mr. Montfort. "Never +more so, I assure you. I may not have very +serious doubts, in my own mind; nevertheless, +I want your assurance. Do you, Margaret +Montfort, find life a burden under +existing circumstances, or do you find it—well, +endurable for awhile yet?"</p> + +<p>"I find life as happy as I can imagine it," +said Margaret, simply; and then, being absolutely +truthful, she added, "That is,—I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +find it so, Uncle John,—until these last two +weeks."</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" said Mr. Montfort. "Not a +word, my dear! I understand you. You are +fond of children, I think, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Very fond," said Margaret, thinking that +Uncle John was strange indeed to-day.</p> + +<p>"Get on well with them, I should suppose. +You had a great deal of influence over Peggy, +Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Dear, good Peggy! She was so ready to be +influenced, Uncle John. She was just waiting +to—to be helped on a little, don't you +know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; so Rita thought, if I remember +aright!" said Mr. Montfort, dryly. "But +with younger children, eh? You have had +some experience of them, perhaps, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>Was he still joking? Margaret had not +much sense of humour, and she was sadly +puzzled again.</p> + +<p>"I—I love little children," she said. +"Of course I do, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Little children,—yes. But how about +boys? Active, noisy, happy-go-lucky boys?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +Boys that smash windows, and yell, and tear +their clothes on barbed-wire fences? How +about those, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Is that the kind of boy you were, Uncle +John?" asked Margaret, smiling. "Because +if so, I am sure I shall like them very much."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear child!" he said. +"You are well and happy, and we understand +each other, and that is all right, very +right. Now, Margaret,—I ask this for form's +sake merely,—have you been in this room +before, to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No, Uncle John," said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Of course you have not. Knew it before +I asked you. Do you notice anything +unusual in the appearance of the room, my +dear?"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked about her, wondering. It +produced an impression of—well, not just the +perfect order in which it was generally to be +found. Several drawers were half open; a +sheaf of papers lay on the floor, as if +dropped by a startled hand. The writing +things were disarranged, slightly, yet noticeably; +for Mr. Montfort always kept them in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +one position, which was never changed save +when they were in actual use.</p> + +<p>"Why, it looks—as if—as if you had +been in a hurry, Uncle John," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"It looks as if <i>some one</i> had been in +a hurry," said Mr. Montfort, significantly. +"I have not been in this room before, +to-day; I found it in this condition. Never +mind, my dear! I am going to write a letter +now. Don't let me keep you any longer."</p> + +<p>Margaret went away, wondering much; her +uncle joined her soon, and they looked at the +roses together, and chatted as usual, and were +happy, till Cousin Sophronia rapped on the +window with her thimble, and asked whether +they were coming in, or whether she should +come out and join them.</p> + +<p>She was trying that evening, Cousin Sophronia. +Nothing on the tea-table suited her, +to begin with. She declared the beef tea +unfit to touch, and desired Mr. Montfort to +taste it, which he politely but firmly refused +to do. "But it is not fit to eat!" cried the +lady. "I insist on your tasting it, my dear +John."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear Sophronia, I am extremely sorry +it is not to your taste. If it is not good, +I certainly do not want to taste it. Send it +away and ask me to taste something that is +good."</p> + +<p>The chicken was tough. "You should +change your butcher, John. Or are these +your own fowls? Chickens I will not call +them; they must be two years old at least. +Nothing disagrees with me like tough poultry. +Nobody to look after the fowls properly, I suppose. +I must take them in hand; not that I +have had any experience myself of fowls, but +an educated person, you understand. So important, +I always say, to bring educated intelligence +to bear on these matters. And then, +these knives are so dull! Even if the fowls were +tender, impossible to make an impression with +such a knife as this. Elizabeth, what do you +use for your knives?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth used Bristol brick, as she always +had done.</p> + +<p>"Ah, entirely out of date, Bristol brick. You +must send for some of the preparation that +William uses, John. Nothing like it. Some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>thing +or other, it's called; somebody's—I +can't remember now, but we will have it, +never fear, dearest John. Shameful, for +you to be subjected to dull knives <i>and</i> tough +poultry. What are these? Strawberries? +Dear me! I did hope we could have raspberries +this evening. One is so tired of strawberries +by this time, don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," said Mr. Montfort. "The +raspberries will be ripe in a day or two, +Sophronia; Willis thought they would hardly +do to pick to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I assure you, my dearest John, +Willis is entirely wrong. I examined the +bushes myself; I went quite through them, +and found them quite—entirely ripe. That +was just Willis's laziness, depend upon it. +These old servants" (Elizabeth had gone +to get more cream, the lady having emptied +the jug on her despised strawberries) "are +too lazy to be of much use. Depend upon +it, John, you will know no peace until you +get rid of them all, and start afresh; I am +thinking very seriously about it, I assure you, +my dear fellow. Yes, I have been longing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +for days for a plate of raspberries and cream. +I have so little appetite, that whenever I <i>can</i> +tempt it a little, the doctor says, I must not +fail to do so. No more, dear, thank you! It +is of no consequence, you know, really, not +the least in the world; only, one can be of so +much more use, when one keeps one's health. +Ah, you remember what health I had as a +child, John! You remember the dear old days +here, when we were children together?"</p> + +<p>"I remember them very well, Sophronia," +said Mr. Montfort, steadily. "And speaking +of that, I am expecting some young visitors +here in a day or two."</p> + +<p>Cousin Sophronia looked up with a jerk; +Margaret looked at her uncle in surprise; +he sipped his tea tranquilly, and repeated: +"Some young visitors, yes. They will interest +you, Sophronia, with your strong family +feeling."</p> + +<p>"Who—who are they?" asked Miss Sophronia. +"Most ill-judged, I must say, to +have children here just now; who did you +say they were, John?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Anthony's children. They lost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +their mother some years ago, you remember; +I fancy Anthony has had rather a hard time +with them since. Now he has to go out West +for the rest of the summer, and I have asked +them to come here."</p> + +<p>For once Miss Sophronia was speechless. +After a moment's silence, Margaret ventured +to say, timidly, "How old are the children, +Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"Really, my dear, I hardly know. Two +boys and a girl, I believe. I don't even +know their names; haven't seen their father +for twenty years. Good fellow, Anthony; a +little absent-minded and heedless, but a good +fellow always. I was glad to be able to oblige +him."</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia recovered her speech.</p> + +<p>"Really, my dear John," she said, with an +acrid smile; "I had no idea you were such +a philanthropist. If Fernley is to become an +asylum for orphan relations—"</p> + +<p>"Sophronia!" said Mr. Montfort.</p> + +<p>His tone was quiet, but there was something +in it that made the lady redden, and +check herself instantly. Margaret wondered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +what would become of her, if her uncle +should ever speak to her in that tone.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I meant nothing!" said Miss +Sophronia, bridling and rallying again. "I +am sure there was no allusion to our dearest +Margaret. Absurd! But these children are +very different. Why, Anthony Montfort is +your second cousin, John. I know every +shade of relationship; it is impossible to +deceive me in such matters, John."</p> + +<p>"I should not attempt it, my dear cousin," +said Mr. Montfort, quietly. "Anthony <i>is</i> +my second cousin. I will go further to meet +you, and admit boldly that these children are +my second cousins once removed, and Margaret's +third cousins. Where shall we put them, +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"My dearest John," cried Miss Sophronia, +in her gayest tone, "you are not to give it a +thought! Is he, Margaret? No, my dear +fellow! It is noble of you—Quixotic, I must +think, but undeniably noble—to take in +these poor little waifs; but you shall have no +further thought about providing for them. +Everything shall be arranged; I know the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +house from garret to cellar, remember. I +will make every arrangement, dearest John, +depend upon me!"</p> + +<p>The evenings were not very gay at Fernley +just now. Miss Sophronia could not keep +awake while any one else read aloud; so she +took matters into her own hands, and read +herself, for an hour by the clock. Her voice +was high and thin, and kept Mr. Montfort +awake; she was apt to emphasise the wrong +words, which made Margaret's soul cry out +within her; and she stopped every few minutes +to chew a cardamom seed with great +deliberation. This simple action had the effect +of making both her hearers extremely nervous, +they could not have explained why. +Also, she was afflicted with a sniff, which +recurred at regular intervals, generally in +the middle of a sentence. Altogether the +reading was a chastened pleasure nowadays; +and this particular evening it was certainly +a relief when she declared, before the hour +was quite over, that she was hoarse, and must +stop before the end of the chapter. On the +whole, she thought it might be better for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +to go to bed early, and take some warm drink. +"It would never do for me to be laid up, +with these children coming to be seen after!" +she declared. So she departed, and Margaret +and her uncle sat down to a game of backgammon, +and played slowly and peacefully, +lingering over their moves as long as they +pleased, and tasting the pleasure of having +no one say that they should play this or that, +"of course!"</p> + +<p>The game over, Mr. Montfort leaned back +in his chair, with an air of content.</p> + +<p>"This is pleasant!" he said, slowly. "Margaret, +my dear, this is very pleasant!" +Margaret smiled at him, but made no reply. +None was needed: the uncle and niece were so +much alike in tastes and feelings, that they +hardly needed speech, sometimes, to know +each other's thoughts. Both were content to +sit now silent, in the soft, cheerful candle-light, +looking about on the books and pictures that +they loved, and feeling the silence like a +cordial.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mr. Montfort's air of cheerful +meditation changed. He sat upright, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +leaned slightly forward. He seemed to listen +for something. Then suddenly, softly, he +rose, and with silent step crossed the room +and stood a moment beside the wall. It was +a very different face that he turned to Margaret +the next instant.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, "there is some one in +my study."</p> + +<p>"In your study, Uncle John? What do you +mean? That is,—how can you tell, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Come here, and listen!" said her uncle. +Margaret stole to his side, and listened, her +head, like his, near the wall. She heard the +crackling of paper; the sound of a drawer +pulled softly out; the clank, muffled, but unmistakable, +of brass handles. What did it +mean? She looked to her uncle for explanation. +He shook his head and motioned her +to be silent. Then, taking her hand in his, +he led her softly from the room. Margaret +followed, greatly wondering, across the wide +hall; through the low door that led to the +White Rooms, now her own; into her own +sitting-room, or Aunt Faith's room, as she +still loved to call it. Here Mr. Montfort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +released her hand, and again motioned her to +be silent.</p> + +<p>"I will explain by and by, my dear," he +said. "Follow me, now, and learn another +lesson in Fernley geography; I was keeping +it for a surprise some day, but never mind. +Where is this place?"</p> + +<p>Margaret noticed, in all her confusion of +surprise, that the great white chair was +pushed away from its usual place. Her uncle +stepped in behind the table near which it +always stood, and passed his hand along the +smooth white panel of the wall. Noiselessly +it swung open, revealing a dark space. Margaret +obeyed his gesture, and following, found +herself in a narrow passage, carpeted with +felt, on which her feet made no sound. They +went forward some way; it was quite dark, +but she followed her uncle's guidance, and he +trod as surely as if it were broad daylight. +Presently he stopped, and, with a pressure of +the hand, bade her listen again. The rustling +of paper sounded very clear now; there +was another rustle, too, the rustle of silk. +Suddenly, light flashed upon them; Margaret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +felt herself drawn swiftly forward; there was +a smothered exclamation in her uncle's voice, +followed by a scream from another.</p> + +<p>They were standing in Mr. Montfort's study. +The room was lighted by a single candle, that +stood on the writing-table; beside this table, +backed against it in an attitude of terror and +surprise, stood Miss Sophronia Montfort, her +hands full of documents, her eyes glaring. +There was a moment of silence, and Margaret +counted her heart-beats. Then—</p> + +<p>"Can I be of any assistance to you, my +dear Sophronia?" asked Mr. Montfort, blandly. +"You seem in distress; allow me to relieve +you of some of these." He took the papers +quietly, and laid them on the table. Miss +Sophronia gasped once, twice; opened and +shut her eyes several times, and swallowed +convulsively; when she spoke, it was with a +fluttering voice, but in something like her +ordinary tone.</p> + +<p>"My dear John! How you startled me! +A—a—little surprise for you, my dear +fellow. Such a shocking condition as your +papers were in. I thought—a kindness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>—to +bring a little order out of chaos; he! he! +ahem! my throat is troublesome to-night. A +warm drink! Yes, my dear John, I remembered +the old passage, you see. I said, why +should I disturb the dear fellow, to ask him +for the key to the outer door? And really, +John, these papers are too—too bad!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head in a manner that was +meant to be playful; but suddenly the smile +dropped from her face like a mask; for Mr. +Montfort did a singular thing. He bent his +head forward slightly; fixed his eyes on his +cousin with a peculiar expression, and advanced +slowly, one step. "Sophronia!" he said.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia began to tremble.</p> + +<p>"Don't, John!" she cried. "John Montfort, +don't do it! I am your own cousin. +Your father and mine were brothers, John. I +hope I know my duty—ah, don't! I will +not, John Montfort!"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked from one to the other in +blank amazement. The lady seemed in the +extremity of terror. Her uncle—was this +her uncle? Instead of the grave, dignified +gentleman, she seemed to see a boy; a boy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +intent on mischief, every motion of him alive +with power and malice. Step by step he +advanced, his hands clenched, his head bent +forward, his eyes still fixed, bright and strong, +on his cousin.</p> + +<p>"Sophronia!" he said, "I am coming! +Sophronia! Sophronia! Sophronia!" Each +time he quickened voice and step. He was +almost upon her; with one wild shriek Miss +Sophronia turned and fled. Her skirts whisked +along the secret passage; they heard the door +bang. She was gone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort sat down in his study chair +and laughed long and silently.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so frightened, my dear!" he +said, at last. "It was a scurvy trick, but she +deserved it. I—I used to run Sophronia up-stairs, +Margaret, when she was a troublesome +girl. It always frightened her. I'd have +done it in another minute, if she had not run, +but I knew she would. Poor Sophronia! I +suppose something of the boy stays in us, my +dear, as long as we live. I—I am afraid I +should rather have enjoyed running Sophronia +up-stairs."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE DAUNTLESS THREE.</h3> + + +<p>The next morning Miss Sophronia kept her +bed; her cold, she said, was too severe to admit +of her joining the family at breakfast. +Margaret waited on her with an uneasy sense +of guilt in general, though she could not accuse +herself of any special sin. She did her +best to be sympathetic and dutiful, having +been brought up to respect her elders sincerely. +But she was puzzled all the same, +and when it came to any question between +her cousin and her uncle, there were no more +doubts. She must put herself out of the way +as much as possible, and give up, wherever +her own pleasure was concerned,—where it +was any matter connected with Uncle John, +she would be the Rock of Gibraltar. This +being settled, the Rock of Gibraltar brought +raspberries for Cousin Sophronia's breakfast, +and made her room bright with flowers, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +tried to make cheer for her. The poor lady +was rather subdued, and told Margaret she +was a cherub child; then declared she would +not be a burden on any one, and sent the girl +away to "amuse herself."</p> + +<p>"Be happy as a butterfly, my dear, all the +morning; don't give me a thought, I beg +of you. If Frances would have a new-laid +egg ready for me at eleven—positively a +new-laid one, Margaret! Perhaps you would +bring it yourself from the hen-yard. I have +no confidence in servants, and it would make +a pleasant little trip for you. So important, +I always say, for the young to have something +useful to mingle with their sports. +Boiled three minutes and a half, my love! +I doubt if I can eat it, but it is my duty to +make the attempt. Bless you! Good-bye! +If you happen to have nothing to do about +twelve, you might bring your work and sit +with me. I am the most sociable creature in +the world; I cannot endure to be alone when +I am ill; but don't have me on your mind, +my love, for a single instant."</p> + +<p>All the duties attended to, Margaret spent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +a delightful hour, with Elizabeth's assistance, +in making ready the rooms for the newcomers. +The little girl was to have Peggy's +room, next her own, and that needed nothing +save fresh flowers in the vases, and fresh ribbons +on the curtains. But the boys were to +have the old nursery, the great room that ran +across the whole width of the house, on the +third floor. It was a pleasant room, with +dormer windows facing east and south, a +great fireplace, with a high wire fender, +and a huge sofa, covered with red chintz +dragons. A funny sofa it was, with little +drawers let in along the sides. John Montfort +and his brothers used to lie on this sofa, +when they had the measles and whooping-cough, +and play with the brass drawer-handles, +and keep their treasures in the +drawers. The windows were barred, and +there was a gate across the landing, at the +top of the stairs. Elizabeth had suggested +taking away the gate and the bars, "such +big young gentlemen as these would be, most +likely, sir!" but Mr. Montfort shook his head +very decidedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If they are Montfort boys, Elizabeth, they +will need all the bars we can give them. +Master Richard was twelve, when he squeezed +himself between these, and went along the +gutter hanging by his hands, till he came +to the spout, and shinned down it. Never +make things too easy for a Montfort boy!"</p> + +<p>In one corner stood a huge rocking-horse, +with saddle and bridle of crimson leather, +rather the worse for wear. He was blind +of one eye, and his tail had seen service, but +he was a fine animal for all that. Margaret +hunted about in the attic, and found a box of +ninepins. Marbles, too; Uncle John had told +her that there must be marbles somewhere, in +a large bag of flowered purple calico, with a +red string. They had been there forty years; +they must be there still. She found them at +last, hanging from a peg of one of the great +beams. On the beam close by was written:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is my Peg. If any Pig touches my Peg, +that Pig will be Pegged. Signed, <span class="smcap">John Montfort</span>."</p></div> + +<p>"Oh," thought Margaret, "what a pleasant +boy Uncle John must have been! What good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +times we should have had together!" And +then she reflected that he could not possibly +have been so nice a boy as he was an uncle, +and was content.</p> + +<p>The marbles, and the rocking-horse, and—what +else ought there to be? Tops! Uncle +John had said something about tops. Here +Margaret screamed, and fled to the attic door. +Something was moving on the beam by which +she had been standing, perched on a chair. +Something rolled slowly along, half the length +of the beam, and dropped to the floor and +rolled towards her. Laughing now, Margaret +stooped and picked up a great ball, a +leather ball, striped red and black. On one +of the red stripes was written, in large, unconventional +letters, "Roger." It was her +father's ball! Margaret held the toy very +tenderly in her hands, and tried to see the +worn, thoughtful face she remembered so +well, a rosy boy's face, full of light and +laughter. She had seen, yesterday, strangely +enough, her uncle's boyish looks, revealed in +a flash of mischief; it was less easy to see +her father's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>As she stood meditating, the sound of +wheels was heard outside. Margaret ran +to look out of the little gable window, then +clapped her hands together, in amazement +and pleasure. The children had come!</p> + +<p>When she reached the verandah, they were +already standing there, facing Mr. Montfort, +who had come out by an early train, and was +standing looking at them with amused attention, +holding the little girl's hands in his.</p> + +<p>"And what are your names, my dears?" +he was saying.</p> + +<p>"Basil, Merton, and Susan D.," replied the +elder boy, promptly, while three pairs of sharp +eyes were fastened on the strange uncle.</p> + +<p>"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" said +Mr. Montfort under his breath. He had no +idea that any one could hear him, but a shriek +of laughter startled him, and made Margaret +jump.</p> + +<p>"That's what Puppa calls us!" cried Basil, +springing lightly up and down on the tips +of his toes. "We didn't know whether you +would or not; he said you would pretty soon, +anyhow. How do you do, Uncle John? We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +are very well, thank you. I am thirteen, and +Mert is twelve, and Susan D. is ten. Puppa +hopes we shall not be troublesome, and here +are the keys of the trunks."</p> + +<p>The boy drew a long breath, and looked +round him with an air of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think you would know +it!" said his brother. "Been saying it all +the way over here."</p> + +<p>"More than you could do!" retorted his +elder.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't do it anyhow, so there!" said +the younger.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.png" width="270" height="400" alt=""THE LITTLE GIRL HAD NEVER STIRRED, BUT STOOD GAZING UP AT THE BIG MAN WHO HELD HER HANDS."" title=""THE LITTLE GIRL HAD NEVER STIRRED, BUT STOOD GAZING UP AT THE BIG MAN WHO HELD HER HANDS."" /> +<span class="caption">"THE LITTLE GIRL HAD NEVER STIRRED, BUT STOOD GAZING UP AT THE BIG MAN WHO HELD HER HANDS."</span> +</div> + +<p>These last remarks had been carried on in +an undertone, the set speech having been +delivered slowly and with much dignity. +Finally each boy kicked the other's shins +surreptitiously, and then both stared again +at their uncle. The little girl had never +stirred, but stood gazing up at the big man +who held her hands so lightly and yet so +kindly, and who had such bright, deep, quiet +brown eyes. Margaret, standing in the doorway, +scrutinised the three, and felt a sinking +at the heart. Basil Montfort was a tall boy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +for his age, slender and wiry, with tow-coloured +hair that stood straight on end, thin lips that +curled up at the corners with a suggestion of +malice, and piercing gray eyes, which he had +a trick of screwing up till they were like gimlet +points. The second, Merton, was decidedly +better-looking, with pretty curly hair, and blue +eyes with an appealing look in them; but +Margaret fancied he looked a little sly; and +straightway took herself to task for the unkind +fancy. The little girl was Basil over +again, save that the tow-coloured hair was put +back with a round comb, and the gray eyes +widely opened, instead of half shut, when she +looked at any one. All three children were +neatly dressed, and all looked as if they were +not used to their clothes.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Montfort at last, after a +long, silent look at each one in turn, "I am +very glad to see you, children. I hope we +are going to be good friends. Boys, I was +a boy myself, just two or three years ago,—or +it may be four,—so you can ask me about +anything you want to know. Susan, I never +was a girl, you see, but that need not make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +much difference. Your Cousin Margaret—oh, +here <i>is</i> your Cousin Margaret! She will +be good to you, and—and in short, you are +all very welcome to Fernley, and there is a +swing in the garden, and the rest you can +find out for yourselves."</p> + +<p>Margaret came forward, and shook hands +with the boys, and kissed the little girl +warmly. Evidently Susan D. was not used to +being kissed, for she blushed, and her brothers +giggled rather rudely, till they caught Mr. +Montfort's eye, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Young gentlemen," said Uncle John, with +an emphasis which brought the blood to +Basil's cheek, "dinner will be ready"—he +looked at his watch—"in an hour. I daresay +they would like something now, Margaret; +crackers and cheese, gingerbread,—what? +You'll find them something." Mr. +Montfort nodded kindly, and strode away to +his study. Margaret was left alone with the +three strange children, feeling shyer than +ever before in her life. The meeting with +the three cousins of her own age, two years +ago, was nothing to this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you hungry, boys?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Starving!" said Merton.</p> + +<p>"He isn't," said Susan D. "He's been +eating all the way, ever since we left home. +He's a greedy,—that's what he is." Then, +scared at her own voice, she hung her head +down, and put her finger in her mouth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," said Margaret, "I daresay you +would all be hungry before dinner-time, so +suppose we come into the pantry and see +what we can find. Will you come with me, +Susan, dear?" She held out her hand, but +the little girl evaded it, and followed in the +rear, holding her own hands behind her back.</p> + +<p>"Will you call me Cousin Margaret?" the +girl went on. "And shall I call you Susie, +or do you like Susan better?"</p> + +<p>Susan not replying, Basil replied for her. +"Susan D. we call her; but Puppa calls her +Sudden Death when she acts bad; she mostly +does act bad."</p> + +<p>"Don't neither!" muttered Susan D., scowling.</p> + +<p>"Do teither!" retorted both brothers in a +breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She ain't shy!" Basil went on. "She's +sulky, that's all. Merton's shy, and I ain't. +I'll tell you things, when you ask me; they +won't, half the time."</p> + +<p>"Well, I haven't asked you anything, yet, +have I?" said Margaret, smiling, and feeling +more at ease with this boy, somehow, than +with either of the others. "What can you +tell me that is pleasant about them?"</p> + +<p>"That's so!" said Basil, and his lips parted +suddenly in a smile that positively transfigured +his plain face. "Well, Mert's the +best boxer, and he can sing and draw. I'm +the best runner, of course, 'count of my legs +being long, you see." He held up a long, +thin leg for Margaret's inspection. "Some +fellows called me Spider once, and Susan D. +scratched their faces for 'em. She's great +at scratching, Susan D. is."</p> + +<p>"My dear!" said poor Margaret. "I +thought you were going to tell me the +pleasant things, Basil."</p> + +<p>"Ain't I?" said the boy, innocently. "She +was standing up for me, you see. She always +stands up for me; Mert is a sne—— well, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +I was going to say, she's a pretty good runner, +for a girl, and she can shin a rope too, better +than any of us. Mert can hang on longest +with his teeth."</p> + +<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean, child?" cried Margaret, +laughing. Basil flashed his brilliant +smile on her again.</p> + +<p>"Tables," he explained. "Yes, please, +crackers; and quite a lot of cheese, please."</p> + +<p>"Greedy Gobble!" interjected Merton.</p> + +<p>"Well, I like that!" said Basil. "Who +ate my sandwich, when I was looking out of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: This word is not present in the original text">the</ins> +window? I tell you what, I'd punch your +head for two cents, young feller!"</p> + +<p>"Boys," said Margaret, decidedly, "I cannot +have this! While you are with me, I +expect you to behave decently."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am!" said both boys, with ready +cheerfulness; and Basil continued his explanation.</p> + +<p>"We see which can hang on to a table +longest, don't you know, by your teeth. Did +ever you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I certainly never did; and—I don't +think you'd better try it here, Basil. It must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +be very hard on your teeth, besides ruining +the table."</p> + +<p>"It ain't healthy for the table," Basil +admitted. "You ought to see the tables at +home! It makes like a little pattern round +the edge, sometimes. Quite pretty, I think. +Say, are you the boss here?"</p> + +<p>Seated on the pantry dresser, swinging his +legs, the young gentleman seemed as much at +home as if he had spent his life at Fernley. +The two other children were eating hastily +and furtively, as if they feared each bite +might be their last. Basil crunched his +crackers and nibbled his cheese with an air +of perfect unconcern. "Are you the boss +here?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Am I in authority, do you mean?" asked +Margaret, who could not abide slang of any +kind. "No, indeed, Basil. Your Uncle John +is the head of the house, in every possible +way. I hope you are all going to be very +good and obedient. He is the kindest, best +man in the whole world."</p> + +<p>"I think he's bully," said Basil. "I guess +you're bully too, ain't you? And it's a bully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +place. Hi, Mert, there's a squirrel! Look at +him running up that tree. My! Wish I had +a pea-shooter!"</p> + +<p>"Bet you couldn't hit him if you had!" +cried Merton, as all three children watched +the squirrel with breathless interest.</p> + +<p>"Bet I could!" said Basil, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Guess he could hit it when you couldn't +hit a barn in the next county!" cried Susan +D. in a kind of small shriek; then she caught +Margaret's eye, blushed furiously, and tried +to get behind her bread and butter.</p> + +<p>"I say! can we go out in the garden?" +cried Basil.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, but wouldn't you like to +come up and see your rooms first? Such +pleasant rooms! I am sure you will like +them."</p> + +<p>But none of the children cared to see the +pleasant rooms. Receiving permission to play +till they heard the dinner-bell, they fled +suddenly, as if the constable were at their +heels. Margaret saw their legs twinkling +across the grass-plot. They were yelling like +red Indians. Susan D.'s hat blew off at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +third bound; Basil shied his cap into a bush +with a joyous whoop, then snatched off his +brother's and threw that after it. Merton +grappled him with a shout, and they rolled +over and over at the feet of their sister, who +bent down and pummelled them both with +might and main, shrieking with excitement. +As Margaret gazed aghast, preparing to fly +and interfere, she heard a quiet laugh behind +her, and turning, saw Mr. Montfort looking +over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" he +said. "Separate them? On no account, my +dear! They have been shut up for hours, +and their muscles need stretching. Don't be +alarmed, my child; I know this kind." Poor +Margaret sighed. She did not know this +kind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE FIRST CONQUEST.</h3> + + +<p>When Margaret went to bed that night, +she felt as if she had been whipped with +rods. Head, heart, and back, all ached in +sympathy. The children were in bed; that +is, she had left them in bed; their staying +there was another matter; however, all three +were tired after their journey, and Uncle John +thought the chances were that they would fall +asleep before they had time to think of doing +anything else. Among the three, the little +girl was the one who oppressed Margaret with +a sense of defeat, a sense of her own incompetence. +She had not expected to understand +the boys; she had never had any experience +of boys; but she had expected to win the little +girl to her, and make her a little friend, +perhaps almost a sister. Susan D. received +her advances with an elfish coldness that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +had something not human in it, Margaret +thought. The child was like a changeling, +in the old fairy stories. That evening, when +bedtime came, Margaret went up with her +to the pretty room, hoping for a pleasant +time. She sat down and took the little girl +on her knee. "Let us have a cuddle, dear!" +she said; "put your head down on my shoulder, +and I will sing you one of my own +bedtime songs, that my nurse used to sing +to me."</p> + +<p>Susan D. sat bold upright, not a yielding +joint in all her body.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like songs?" asked Margaret, +stroking the tow-coloured hair gently.</p> + +<p>"No!" said the child; and with the word +she wriggled off Margaret's lap, and stood +twisting her fingers awkwardly, and frowning +at the floor. Margaret sighed.</p> + +<p>"Then we will undress and get to bed," she +said, trying to speak lightly. "You must be +very tired, little girl. Isn't that a pretty bed? +Is your bed at home like this? Tell me about +your room, won't you, Susie?"</p> + +<p>But Susan D. still twisted her fingers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +frowned, and would not say a single word. +She made no resistance, however, when Margaret +helped her off with her clothes. "You +are big enough to undress yourself, of course," +the girl said, "but I will help you to-night, +because you are tired, and you must feel +strange, coming so far away from home. +Poor little mite!" The child looked so +small and slight, standing with her dress +off, and her thin shoulders sticking out +like wings, that Margaret felt a sudden +thrill of compassion, and stooping, kissed +the freckled cheek warmly. The colour came +into the child's face, but she stood like a stock, +never moving a muscle, never raising her eyes +to take note of the pretty, tasteful arrangements +to which Margaret had given such +thought and pains. But the undressing +went on, and presently she was in her little +nightgown, with her hair unbraided and +smoothly brushed. She might be pretty, +Margaret decided, when she filled out a +little, and had a pleasanter expression. She +was so little! Surely there must be one more +effort, this first night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I hear you say your prayers, dear?" +asked Margaret, taking the child's two hands +in hers. Susan D. shook her head resolutely.</p> + +<p>"No? You like better to say them by yourself? +Then I will come back in a few minutes, +and tuck you up in your little nest."</p> + +<p>The child gave no sign; and when Margaret +came back, she was standing in the +same spot, in the same position. She got +into bed obediently, and made no resistance +when Margaret tucked the bedclothes in, +patted her shoulder, and gave her a last +good-night kiss. She might as well have +kissed the pillow for any response there +was, but at least there had been no shrinking +this time. "Good night, Susan D.," said +Margaret, cheerfully, pausing at the door. +"Good night, dear! Susan, I think you must +answer when you are spoken to."</p> + +<p>"Good night!" said Susan D. Margaret +shut the door softly and went away. As +she passed along the corridor that ran +round the hall, something struck her forehead +lightly. She looked up, and narrowly +escaped getting a fish-hook in her eye. Mer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>ton +looked over the banisters, and smiled appealingly. +"I was fishin'," he said. "There's +fish-lines in the drawers of the sofa. I guess I +'most caught a whale, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Merton, you must go to bed at once!" said +Margaret. "How long have you been standing +there in your nightgown? You might +catch your death." (It had been one of old +Katy's maxims that if you stood about in +your nightgown for however short a time, +you inevitably got your death. Margaret +had never doubted it till this moment.) "I +am coming up now to tuck you both up!" +she added, with a happy inspiration.</p> + +<p>There was a hasty scuffle, then a rush, +accompanied by smothered squeals. When +Margaret reached the nursery, both boys +were in bed. Merton's blue eyes were wide +open, and fixed on her with mournful earnestness; +Basil was asleep, the clothes tucked +in well under his chin. He lay on his back, +his mouth slightly opened; he was snoring +gently, but unobtrusively. Poor child! no +doubt he was tired enough. But how had +Merton managed to make so <i>much</i> noise?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret looked around her, and Merton's +gaze grew more intense. His own clothes +lay in a heap on the floor, but where were +his brother's? And—and what was that, +smoothly folded over the back of a chair? +A clean nightgown?</p> + +<p>But when Merton saw his cousin's eyes fix +on the nightgown, he exploded in a bubbling +laugh. "He—he ain't undressed at all!" +he cried, gleefully. "He never! he's got his +boots on, and every single—" The speech +got no further. There was a flying whirl of +blankets, a leap, and Basil was on his brother's +chest, pounding him with right good will. +"You sneak!" he cried. "I'll teach you—"</p> + +<p>There was no time to think; the child +would be killed before her eyes. Margaret +took a firm hold on Basil's collar, and dragged +him off by main strength, he still clawing the +air. Unconsciously, she gave him a hearty +shake before she let go; the boy staggered +back a few paces; who would have thought +that Margaret had such strength in her slender +wrists? The crisis over, she panted, and +felt faint for an instant; Basil, after a moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +of bewilderment, looked at her, and the smile +broke all over his face, a moment before black +with rage.</p> + +<p>"Got me that time, didn't you?" he said, +simply. "He's a mean sneak, Mert is. I'll +serve him out to-morrow, don't you be +afraid!"</p> + +<p>"Basil, what does this mean?" asked +Margaret, severely. "Why are you not in +bed?" Then as Basil sent an eloquent glance +at the pillow where his head had been lying +so quietly, she added, "Why are you not +undressed, I mean? I am afraid you have +been very naughty, both of you, boys."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," said Basil, apologetically, +"there was all kinds of things in the drawers, +and then I got on the rocking-horse, and it +wasn't but just a minute before you came up. +I say, isn't this a bully room, Cousin Margaret? +I think Uncle John was awfully good +to give us such a room as this. Why doesn't +he sleep here himself? Bet I would, if I +owned the house. I say, do those marbles +belong to him?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Margaret, smiling in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +spite of herself; "yes, I am sure they were +his. But now, Basil,—"</p> + +<p>"Well, see here!" cried the boy, excitedly. +"Because, you see, they're worth a lot, some +of 'em. Why, there's agates,—why, they +are perfect beauties! Just look!" He ran +towards the sofa, but Margaret stopped him +resolutely.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Basil!" she said. "To-morrow +you shall show me everything you like; but +now you must go to bed, this very moment. +I am pretty tired, but I shall sit outside on +the landing, till you tell me that you are in +bed; then I shall come in and make sure for +myself, and tuck you in."</p> + +<p>Basil illuminated the room again. "Will +you?" he cried. "Honest, will you tuck us +in?"</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded, wondering, and withdrew +to the landing, where she sat with her +head in her hands, saying to herself, "Let +nothing disturb thee, nothing affright thee—"</p> + +<p>Basil spoke through the keyhole. "Cousin +Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Basil; are you ready so soon?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, not quite. I wanted to say,—do you +think you ought to spank me?"</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"'Cause you can, if you think you'd better."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Basil; only do get to bed, like a +good boy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>A sudden plunge was heard, a thump, and +the agonised shriek of a suffering bedstead. +"Now I'm in bed!" said Basil. Margaret +picked up the two heaps of clothing, and laid +them neatly on two chairs. "I want you to +do this yourselves after this," she explained. +"It isn't nice to leave your things on the floor."</p> + +<p>"All right!" "We will!" said both boys; +and then they joined in a fervent appeal to +her not to turn their knickerbockers upside +down. "'Cause all the things in your pockets +spill out," said Merton.</p> + +<p>"And then you get 'em mixed, and can't +tell what belongs where," cried Basil. +"Thank you, Cousin Margaret; that's bully!"</p> + +<p>Margaret tucked Merton in first; he looked +so dimpled and pretty, she was tempted to +offer a caress, but the recollection of Susan D.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +kept her from it. Turning away, she came to +Basil's bed. The boy watched her intently as +she smoothed the bedclothes with practised +hand, and tucked them in exactly right, not +too tight and not too loose. There are several +ways of tucking a person into bed. With a +pleasant "Good night!" she was about to +leave him, but something in the boy's face +held her. "Is there anything you want, my +dear?" she asked, gently. Basil looked at +her; then turned his head away. "Mother +used to put me to bed!" he muttered, so low +that Margaret could hardly hear. She did +hear, however; and instantly stooping over +the boy, she kissed him warmly. Thank +Heaven, here was one who did want to be +loved. "Dear Basil," she said, tenderly. +"Dear boy, you shall tell me all about her +some day. Will you?" The boy nodded; +his eyes were eloquent, but he did not speak. +Her heart still warm, Margaret looked across +at Merton; but Basil plucked her gown and +whispered, "He—doesn't know. He can't +remember her. Perhaps you can teach +him—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret nodded, kissed the boy's white +forehead once more, and went away with a +lighter heart than she had brought with her. +On the floor below she paused to listen at +Susan's door; all was quiet there. Cousin +Sophronia was asleep, too, no doubt; Margaret +had spent part of the evening with her, reading, +and listening to her doleful prophecies of +the miseries entailed by the coming of "these +dreadful children!" It was nearly her own +bedtime, too, for between Cousin Sophronia +and the children the evening had slipped away +all too fast. But surely she might have a few +minutes of peace and joy? The library door +stood open; from it there came a stream of +cheerful light, and the perfume of a Manila +cigar. Oh, good! Uncle John had not gone +to his study; he was waiting for her. As she +passed Miss Sophronia's door, Margaret fancied +she heard a call; but she was not sure, +and for once she was rebellious. She flew +down-stairs, and ran into the library.</p> + +<p>The pleasant room lay in shade, save for +the bright gleam of the reading-lamp. Among +the books which lined the walls from floor to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +ceiling, the gilded backs of the smaller volumes +caught the light and sent it back in soft, +broken twinklings; but the great brown folios +on the lower shelves were half lost in a comfortable +duskiness. The crimson curtains were +drawn before the open windows, and the evening +wind waved them lightly now and then, +sending new shadows to chase the old ones +along the walls and ceiling. The thick old +Turkey carpet held every possible shade of +soft, faded richness, and the brown leather +armchairs looked as if they had been sat in by +generations of book-loving Montforts, as indeed +they had. And amid all this sober comfort, +by the great library table with its orderly +litter of magazines and new books, sat Mr. +John Montfort, book in hand and cigar in +mouth, a breathing statue of Ease, in a brown +velvet smoking-jacket. He looked up, and, +seeing Margaret in the doorway, laid down +his book, and held out his hand with a gesture +of welcome. "Well, my girl," he said, +"come and tell me all about it!"</p> + +<p>With a great sigh of relief, Margaret +dropped on the rug at her uncle's feet, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +laid her tired head on his knee. "Uncle +John!" she said. "Oh, Uncle John!" That +seemed to be all she wanted to say; she shut +her eyes, and gave herself up to the comfort +which only comes with rest after fatigue.</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort stroked her hair gently, with +a touch as light as a woman's. Then he took +up his book again, and began to read aloud. +It was a curious old book, bound in black +leather, with great silver clasps.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"In that isle is a dead sea or lake, that has no +bottom; and if any thing falls into it, it will never +come up again. In that lake grow reeds, which +they call Thaby, that are thirty fathoms long; and +of these reeds they make fair houses. And there +are other reeds, not so long, that grow near the land, +and have roots full a quarter of a furlong long or +more, at the knots of which roots precious stones +are found that have great virtues; for he who carries +any of them upon him may not be hurt by iron or +steel; and therefore they who have those stones on +them fight very boldly both by sea and land; and +therefore, when their enemies are aware of this, they +shoot at them darts without iron or steel, and so hurt +and slay them. And also of those reeds they make +houses and ships and other things, as we here make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +houses and ships of oak, or of any other tree. And +let no man think I am joking, for I have seen these +reeds with my own eyes."</p></div> + +<p>The words flowed on and on; Margaret felt +her troubles smoothing themselves out, melting +away. "Who is this pleasant person?" +she asked, without raising her head.</p> + +<p>"Sir John Mandeville," said her uncle. +"Rest a bit still, and we'll go and see the +Chan of Cathay with him. Here we are!" +He turned a page or two, and read again:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The emperor has his table alone by himself, +which is of gold and precious stones; or of crystal, +bordered with gold and full of precious stones; or +of amethysts, or of lignum aloes, that comes out of +Paradise; or of ivory bound or bordered with gold. +And under the emperor's table sit four clerks, who +write all that the emperor says, be it good or evil; +for all that he says must be held good; for he may +not change his word nor revoke it."</p></div> + +<p>"Oh, but I shouldn't like that, Uncle +John!" cried Margaret. "I shouldn't like +that at all! Should you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would be agreeable," Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +Montfort admitted. "But when we come to +anything we don't like, we can suppose that +Sir John was—shall we call it embroidering? +And how does my girl feel now? Are the +wrinkles smoothing out at all?"</p> + +<p>"All smooth!" replied the girl. "All +gone, Uncle John. I was only a little tired; +and—Uncle John—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear child."</p> + +<p>"You must expect that I shall do a great +many wrong things, at first. I am very ignorant, +and—well, not very old, perhaps. If +only I can make the children love me!"</p> + +<p>"They'd better love you," said Uncle John. +"If they don't, they'll get the stick. But don't +fret, Margaret; I am not going to fret, and I +shall not let you do it. The little girl seems +slightly abnormal, at first sight; but the +boys—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle John?" and Margaret raised +her head and looked eagerly at her uncle, +hoping for some light that would make all +clear to her. "The boys?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the boys are just boys, my dear; +nothing in the world but plain boys. Two of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +'em instead of four,—thank your stars that +you are in this generation instead of the last, +my love; and now take this little head off to +bed, and don't let another anxious thought +come into it. Good night, my child."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>A NEWCOMER.</h3> + + +<p>"If you please, Miss Margaret, the lady +would like to speak to you, in her room."</p> + +<p>"Miss Montfort?" (Elizabeth never would +call Miss Sophronia Miss Montfort.) "Yes, +Elizabeth, I will be up in a moment; tell her, +please."</p> + +<p>Hastily pinning her collar,—it was near +breakfast-time, and she had been longer than +usual in dressing,—Margaret ran up to the +Blue Room. Miss Sophronia, in curl-papers +and a long, yellow wrapper, was standing near +the window, apparently rigid with horror.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Cousin Sophronia? What +can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Margaret, I told you,—I warned you. I +warned John Montfort. No one can say +that I neglected my duty in this respect; +my conscience is clear. Now look,—I desire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +you, look out of that window, and tell me +what you think."</p> + +<p>Margaret looked. At first she saw nothing +but the clear glass, and, beyond it, the blue +sky and waving trees. But, looking again, +she became aware of two objects dangling +over the upper part of the pane; a black +object, and a white object; two small legs, +one bare, the other in stocking and shoe. +The legs were swinging back and forth, +keeping time to a clear and lively whistle, +and now and then one of them gave a little +kick, as of pure content.</p> + +<p>"Do you see?" demanded Miss Sophronia, +in tragic tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cousin Sophronia, I see. I can't +think—but I'll run up at once and see what +it means, and bring the child down. I—" +Margaret waited to say no more, but flew +up-stairs, only pausing to cast a hasty glance +into Susan D.'s room, the door of which +stood open. The room was empty; so, when +she reached the top of the stairs, was the +nursery. She entered a small room that +was used as a storeroom; its one window<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +looked directly on the roof, and this window +stood wide open. Running to look out, +Margaret saw Susan D., seated astride of a +gable, dangling her legs as aforesaid, and +apparently enjoying herself immensely. The +whistle stopped when she saw her cousin, and +the cheerful look gave place to one of sullenness.</p> + +<p>"Susan, my dear child, what are you doing +here?"</p> + +<p>"Looking for my other stocking," replied +the child.</p> + +<p>"Your stocking?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I dropped it out of the window, +and I came up here to look for it."</p> + +<p>"She thought she could see better!" explained +Basil, appearing suddenly from behind +the chimney. "I—good morning, +Cousin Margaret. I slept very well, thank +you."</p> + +<p>"So did I!" chimed in Susan D., with +suspicious readiness. "I slept very well. +Good morning, Cousin Margaret, thank +you!"</p> + +<p>"That isn't right," said Basil, as Mar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>garet +looked in bewilderment from one to +the other; "you are such a stupid, Susan D. +You see," he added, turning to Margaret, +"I've been telling her that she's got to +have better manners, and speak when she's +spoken to; and, if she behaves pretty well, +she's going to get some hard stamps she +wants; and if she doesn't—"</p> + +<p>"I am," said Susan D. "Amn't I, Cousin +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>It was the first time the child had addressed +Margaret directly, and the latter +hastened to assure her that her morning +greeting would do very well indeed. "But, +dear children," she cried, "I cannot let you +stay here. Indeed, you ought never to have +come up; I don't believe Uncle John would +like to have you on the roof at all; and +it is breakfast-time, and Cousin Sophronia +has been a good deal frightened, Susie, at +seeing your legs dangling over her window +in this fashion."</p> + +<p>"We aren't hurting the old roof!" cried +boy and girl, in eager self-defence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dears! It isn't the roof, it's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +your precious necks, that you might be +breaking at this moment. How are you +going to get back? Basil, it makes me +dizzy to look at you."</p> + +<p>"Then I wouldn't look," said Basil, cheerfully. +"I'm all right, Cousin Margaret, just +truly I am. Why, I just live on roofs, every +chance I get. And this is a bully roof to +climb on."</p> + +<p>Margaret covered her eyes with her hands, +as the boy came tripping along the ridge-pole +towards her; but the next moment she put +the hands down resolutely. "Let me help +you!" she said. "Susan, take my hand, +dear, and let me help you in."</p> + +<p>But Susan D. needed no helping hand; she +scrambled up the slope of the roof like a +squirrel, and wriggled in at the window +before Margaret could lay hands on her. +"I'm all right!" she said, shyly. "I didn't +find my stocking, though. I'll get another +pair." But Margaret soon found the stocking, +and in due time could report to Cousin +Sophronia that the children were both safe +on the ground, and more or less ready for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +breakfast. Merton had not shared in the roof +expedition; he had climbed the great chestnut-tree +instead, and appeared at breakfast +with most of the buttons off his jacket, and +a large barn-door tear in his knickerbockers.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia greeted the children with +firmness. "How do you do, my dears?" she +said. "I am your Cousin Sophronia, and I +shall take the place of a mamma to you while +you are here. If you do as I tell you, we shall +get on very well, I dare say. You are Basil? +Yes, you look like your Uncle Reuben. You +remember Reuben, John? What a troublesome +boy he was, to be sure! And this is +Merton. H'm! Yes! The image of his +father. Anthony; to be sure! And what +is your name, child? Susan D.? Ah, yes! +For your Aunt Susan, of course. And are +you a good girl, Susan D.?"</p> + +<p>Susan D. hung her head, and looked +defiant.</p> + +<p>"Always answer when you are spoken to," +said the lady, with mild severity. "I'm afraid +your father has let you run wild; but we will +alter all that. Little boy—Merton, I mean,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +you are taking too much sugar on your porridge. +Too much sugar is very bad for children. +Hand me the bowl, if you please. +I am obliged to take a good deal of sugar—the +doctor's orders! There are one—two—three +buttons off your jacket. This will +never do!"</p> + +<p>"I scraped 'em off, shinning up the tree," +said Merton, sadly. "I barked all my shins, +too; but I found the squirrel's nest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Merton, you didn't meddle with it?" +cried Margaret. "That little squirrel is so +tame, I should be very sorry to have him +teased. You didn't tease him, did you, +dear?"</p> + +<p>Merton looked injured. "I just put my +hand into his old hole, and he bit me, nasty +thing! I'll kill him, first chance I get."</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the kind," said +Mr. Montfort, quietly. "You will let the +squirrel alone, Merton, or I shall have to +stop the climbing altogether. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Merton. "Ow! you stop +that, now!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you speak to me, sir?" inquired Mr. +Montfort, politely.</p> + +<p>"Well, he kicked my sore shin," growled +Merton, glaring savagely at Basil. Basil +chuckled gleefully. Mr. Montfort looked +from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Kick each other as much as you like out-of-doors," +he said. "Here, you can either +behave yourselves or leave the table. Take +your choice." He spoke very quietly, and +went on with his letter, without another +glance at the boys; indeed, no second glance +was needed, for the children behaved remarkably +well through the rest of breakfast.</p> + +<p>That morning was a trying time for Margaret. +She tried hard to remember her +uncle's parting words, as he drove away: +"Let them run, these first few days, and +don't worry; above all, don't worry!"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 272px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.png" width="272" height="400" alt=""MERTON WAS TEASING CHIQUITO."" title=""MERTON WAS TEASING CHIQUITO."" /> +<span class="caption">"MERTON WAS TEASING CHIQUITO."</span> +</div> + +<p>Yes, but how could she help worrying? If +it had been only running! But these children +never seemed content to stay on their feet for +ten minutes together. Now they were turning +somersaults round and round the grass-plot, +till her head grew dizzy, and Cousin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +Sophronia screamed from the window that +they would all be dead of apoplexy in less +than ten minutes. Now they were hanging +by their heels from the lower branches of the +horse-chestnut tree, daring each other to turn +a somersault in the air and so descend. Now +Merton was teasing Chiquito, and getting his +finger bitten, and howling, while Basil jeered +at him, and wanted to know whether a sixty-year-old +bird was likely to stand "sauce" +from a ten-year-old monkey. Now Susan D. +had caught her frock on a bramble, and torn +a long, jagged rent across the front breadth, +that filled Margaret with despair. Poor +Susan D.! By afternoon, Miss Sophronia +had taken her into custody, and marched +her off to her own room, to stay there till +bedtime.</p> + +<p>"The child was rebellious, my dear Margaret; +positively disrespectful. A little discipline, +my love, is what that child needs. It is +my duty to give it to her, and I shall do my +duty cheerfully. At your age, it is not to be expected +that you should know anything about +children. Leave all to me, and you will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +surprised at the result. A firm rein for a few +weeks,—I shall manage her, never fear!"</p> + +<p>Margaret was humble-minded, and fully +conscious of her total lack of experience; still, +she could not feel that a system of repression +was the one most likely to succeed with +Susan D.</p> + +<p>"If we could win the child's affection," she +began, timidly. Miss Sophronia pounced upon +her.</p> + +<p>"My love, you naturally think so! Believe +me, I know what I am talking about. I have +practically brought up William's children; +the result is astonishing, everybody says +so." (Everybody did, but their astonishment +was hardly what the good lady fancied it.) +"Trust,—dearest Margaret, simply confide +absolutely in me! So important, I always +say, for the young to have entire confidence +in their elders."</p> + +<p>Margaret was thankful when dinner was +over, and her cousin gone to take her afternoon +nap. Basil was in a lowering mood, +the result of his sister's imprisonment. He +would do nothing but rage against Cousin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +Sophronia, so Margaret was finally obliged to +send him away, and sit down with a sigh +to her work, alone.</p> + +<p>It was very pleasant and peaceful on the +verandah. The garden was hot and sunny at +this hour, but here the shade lay cool and +grateful, and Margaret felt the silence like +balm on her fretted spirit. It was all wrong +that she should be so fretted; she argued with +herself, scolded, tried to bring herself to a +better frame of mind; but nature was too +strong for her, and the best she could do was +to resolve that she would try, and keep on trying, +her very best; and that Uncle John +should not know how worried she was. That, +surely, she could manage: to keep a smiling +face when he was at home, and to made light +of all these hourly pin-pricks that seemed to +her sensitive nature like sword-thrusts.</p> + +<p>So quiet! Only the sound of the soft wind +in the great chestnut-trees, and the clear notes +of a bird in the upper branches. A rose-breasted +grosbeak! Her uncle had been +teaching her something about birds, and she +knew this beautiful creature, and loved to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +watch him as he hovered about the nest +where his good wife sat. His song was +almost like the oriole's, Margaret thought. +She laid down her embroidery, and watched +the flashes of crimson appear and disappear. +What a wonderful, beautiful thing! How +good to live in the green country, where +lovely sights and sounds were one's own, all +day long. Why should one let oneself be +distressed, even if things did not go just to +one's mind?</p> + +<p>A soft cloud seemed to be stealing over her +spirit; it was not sleep, but just a waking +dream, of peace and beauty, and the love of +all lovely things in the green and blossoming +world, where life floated by to the music of +birds,—</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Margaret; were +you asleep, miss?"</p> + +<p>Margaret sat upright, and looked a little +severe. It would never do even to look as if +she had been asleep, in the middle of the afternoon. +"No, Elizabeth," she said. "What is +wanted?"</p> + +<p>"Only miss, Frances was wishful to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +whether she should keep Master Merton's dinner +any longer, or whether she'd cook something +fresh for him along with his supper."</p> + +<p>No more dreaming for Margaret! She +sprang to her feet, suddenly conscious of the +fact that Merton had not been seen for several +hours. It could not have been more than +eleven o'clock when he was in her room; +now— "What time is it, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"Going on five, Miss Margaret. Mr. Montfort'll +soon be here, miss; maybe Master +Merton might have gone to meet him."</p> + +<p>Margaret shook her head; that did not +seem at all likely. She hailed Basil, who +came sauntering up the gravel walk, his +brow still clouded, kicking the pebbles before +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Basil, have you seen Merton? He +has not been in the house since this morning, +and I am anxious about him."</p> + +<p>Basil shrugged his shoulders. "Run away, +most likely!" he said, carelessly. "He's +always running away, Mert is."</p> + +<p>"Always running away! But where could +he run to, Basil? He does not know his way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +about here. He surely would not run away +in a strange place."</p> + +<p>Basil smiled superior. "That's just why +he'd do it. He likes to find out new places; +we both do. I wouldn't leave Susan D., or +I'd have gone, too, bet I would. No use +staying here, to be bossed round."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Basil, don't talk so, but help me, like +a dear boy, to find Merton."</p> + +<p>Basil stood uncertain. He raised a threatening +glance towards Miss Sophronia's window; +but Margaret was beside him in a moment. +"Basil, to please me!" she said. She laid +her hand on the boy's shoulder. He stood +still, and Margaret had a moment of painful +doubt; but the next instant he raised his face +to her with his own enchanting smile. "All +right!" he said. "You are all right, Cousin +Margaret, whatever other folks are, and I'll +help you every single bit I can."</p> + +<p>"That's my good, helpful boy!" said Margaret, +heartily. "Oh, Basil, you and I together +can do a great deal, but alone I feel +rather helpless. You shall be my little—no, +not little—you shall be my brother, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +tell me how to manage Merton and Susan, and +make them love me. But the first thing is to +find Merton. What can have become of the +child? Where shall we look for him?"</p> + +<p>"I think perhaps down by the bog," said +Basil, looking very important and pleased +with his new responsibility. "He said he +was going down there, first chance he got. +I meant to go, too, but I won't if you don't +want me to, Cousin Margaret. There's a +bully—"</p> + +<p>"Basil!"</p> + +<p>"There's a—a superb workman down +there; do you know him, Cousin Margaret? +I guess he's the boss, or something. He wears +blue overalls and a blue jumper, and he can +vault—oh my! how that fellow can vault!"</p> + +<p>"Basil, I don't feel at all sure that your +uncle would wish you to be talking with +strange workmen. At any rate, I think you +ought to ask leave, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I ought!" said Basil, cheerfully. +"But it's too late now, you see, 'cause I have +talked to him, quite lots, and he's awfully +jolly. Oh, Jonah! I do believe there he is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +now; and—Cousin Margaret! I do believe +he's got Mert with him! Look!"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked. A man was coming +across the field that lay beyond the garden +wall; a workingman, from his blue overalls +and jumper; a young man, from the way he +moved, and from his light, springy step. +Margaret could not see his face, but his hair +was red; she could see that over the burden +that he carried in his arms.</p> + +<p>Coming nearer, this burden was seen to be +a child. A chimney-sweeper? No, for chimney-sweepers +are not necessarily wet; do not +drip black mud from head to foot; do not +run streams of black bog water.</p> + +<p>"Merton!" cried poor Margaret, who knew +well the look of that mud and water. "Oh, +what has happened? Is—is he hurt?" she +cried out, running towards the wall.</p> + +<p>The young workman raised a cheerful face, +streaked with black, and presenting the appearance +of a light-hearted savage in trim for +a funeral.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit hurt!" he called in return. +"All right, only wet, and a trifle muddy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +Little chap's had a bath, that's all. Hope +you haven't been anxious about him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I have been anxious—thank you! +You are sure—he has not been in danger?"</p> + +<p>"Well," the stranger admitted, "just as +well I was there, perhaps. It isn't a safe +place for children, you see. How are you +now, old chap? He was a bit dizzy when I +picked him up, you see."</p> + +<p>Merton lifted his black head, and looked +ruefully at Margaret.</p> + +<p>"You told me not to go!" he said. "I +won't go again."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you won't!" cried Basil, +excitedly. "Why, you've been in all over; it's +all up to your chin, and some of it's on the +back of your head. I say, you must—"</p> + +<p>The young man made him a sign quickly. +"He's all right!" he said. "Mud baths extremely +hygienic; recommended by the medical +fraternity; a—where did you say I should +put him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried Margaret. +"I am letting you hold him all this time, and +you are getting all wet, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No consequence, not the least in the world. +Besides,—past participle perhaps more appropriate +than present."</p> + +<p>Margaret led the way to the verandah, and +the stranger finally deposited his burden on +the steps. Looking down at himself, he +seemed for the first time aware of his singular +appearance, for he blushed, and, lifting +his cap, was turning away with a muttered +apology, in which the word "clothes" was +the only word Margaret could hear.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried, "you are not going yet! +I—I have not thanked you! You have +saved the child's life, I know you have. I—I +have seen something of that bog," she +shuddered. "Mr. Montfort will want to see +you, and thank you himself. Do at least tell +me your name, so that we may know who it is +that has done us this great service."</p> + +<p>But here the young man caught sight of his +face, reflected in a window-pane, and lost the +last vestige of self-possession. "If—if you'll +excuse me," he cried, "I think I'll go before +Mr. Montfort comes. The costume of a Mohawk +on the war-path—effective, but unusual;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +a—call to-morrow if I may, to see if the +little chap is all right. Mr. Montfort kindly +asked me—good day!"</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told her your name!" +Basil shouted after him.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Of course!—a—Merryweather! +Gerald Merryweather."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>"I MUST HELP MYSELF."</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Dear Margaret</span>: + +<p>"I find a telegram here which obliges me to run on +to Philadelphia at once. I may be away all the week; +do as well as you can, dear child, and don't let B., M., +and S. D. tear you to pieces. I forgot to tell you +that the young man in charge of the bog-draining +turns out to be the son of an old friend of mine, +Miles Merryweather. I asked him to come up to +the house; if he should come while I am away, you +will be good to him. I will let you know by telegraph +when to expect me.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;">"Always affectionately yours,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">John Montfort.</span>"<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Margaret read this brief letter with a sinking +heart. How was she to keep up without +Uncle John? How was she to cope with all +the difficulties that beset her path like sharp-thorned +briers? If she had but Aunt Faith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>—if +she had but some one to turn to! She had +tried to take counsel with Mrs. Peyton, but +the beautiful woman was still, at fifty, a spoiled +child, far younger in many ways than Margaret +herself; she would only laugh, and +advise her to get rid of Miss Sophronia by +some trick, or practical joke.</p> + +<p>"Freeze her out, my dear! Get rid of her, +somehow! That is all the advice I can give +you. And bring the young barbarians to see +me; I am sure they will amuse me."</p> + +<p>Margaret had just been acting on this last +request. She had taken the two boys to see +the invalid, and had left them there now, coming +away with a sore and angry heart. Mrs. +Peyton had been drawing the children out, +laughing at their remarks about their cousin, +and paying no regard to Margaret's entreaties. +At length Margaret had simply come away, +with no more than a brief "Good afternoon!" +feeling that she could not trust herself to say +more. Emily Peyton only laughed; she had +full confidence in her charm, and thought she +could bring back her puritanical little friend +whenever she chose to smile in a particular<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +way; meanwhile, the children were a new toy, +and amused her.</p> + +<p>But Margaret felt that she had had almost +enough of Mrs. Peyton. Beauty was a great +deal, charm and grace were a great deal more; +but they did not take the place of heart. No, +there was no one to help her! Well, then she +must help herself, that was all!</p> + +<p>She stood still, her mind full of this new +thought. She was eighteen years old; she +was well and strong, and possessed of average +intelligence. "Look here!" she said suddenly, +aloud. "If you cannot manage those children, +why, I am ashamed of you. Do you +hear?"</p> + +<p>The other self, the timid one, did hear, and +took heart. The girl felt new strength coming +to her. The world had changed, somehow; +the giants,—were they only windmills, +after all? Up, lance, and at them!</p> + +<p>In this changed mood she went on, humming +a little song to herself. As she drew +near the wood that skirted the bog, the song +was answered by another, trolled in a cheerful +bass voice:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The lady was pleased for to see him so bold;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">She gave him her glove that was flowered with gold;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">She said she had found it while walking around,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">As she was a-hunting with her dog and her gun."</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>The "blue boy," as she mentally called him, +came dancing out of the wood, throwing up +his cap, and singing as he came. At sight of +Margaret he paused, in some confusion, cap +in hand.</div> + +<p>"I—I beg your pardon," he said. "I trust +I did not disturb you with my carol? There +isn't generally any one here, you know; I get +rather to feel as if it all belonged to me. I +hope the little chap is all right to-day, Miss—Is +it Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! Certainly!" said Margaret, +blushing in her turn. "I ought to have said, +of course—yes, thank you, Mr. Merryweather, +Merton is quite well to-day; and I really think +he has had a lesson, for he has not run away +since, and it is two or three days ago. I—my +uncle has been suddenly called away on +business, but he asked me to say—that is, we +shall be very glad to see you at the house any +day; Miss Montfort, his cousin,—my uncle's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +cousin,—is there with me and the children."</p> + +<p>"Thanks awfully," murmured Gerald. "I'd +like to come ever so much, some day; but I +keep all in a mess so—" he glanced down +ruefully at his blue clothes, and finding them +quite respectably clean, brightened visibly. +"My father was at school with Mr. Montfort; +Miles Merryweather, perhaps he told you, +Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he told me. I—I always think +Uncle John must have been such a delightful +boy. I am sure they must have had good +times together."</p> + +<p>"So was the Pater, no end; I mean, my +father was an agreeable youth also." Gerald +stopped short, and glanced sidelong at +the young girl. He was well used to girls, +having sisters and cousins; but they were used +to him, too, and he somehow felt that this +sweet, serious-looking maiden was not accustomed +to young men, and that he must, as he +silently put it to himself, "consider the prudent +P, and the quaintly quiggling Q."</p> + +<p>"And Uncle John must have been a bril<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>liant +scholar!" Margaret went on, warming +to her subject. She had never, as it happened, +walked and talked with a lad before in her +quiet life; she did not know quite how to do +it, but so long as she talked about Uncle John, +she could not go wrong. "He knows so much,—so +much that he must have learned early, +because it is so a part of him. Wasn't he +head of his class most of the time? He never +will talk about it, but I am sure he must have +been."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure about that," Gerald +admitted; "I know he was the best wrestler, +and that he and my father were generally +neck and neck in all the running races. He +was a better high kick, because his legs were +longer, don't you know, but the Pater was +ahead in boxing."</p> + +<p>Margaret was bewildered. Was this scholarship? +Was this the record that brilliant +boys left behind them? She gave a little +sigh; the mention of long legs brought her +back to Basil again. Dear Basil! he had only +one pair of knickerbockers left that was fit +to be seen. She ought to be mending the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +corduroys this moment, in case he should come +home all in pieces, as he was apt to do.</p> + +<p>"Have you any little brothers, Mr. Merryweather?" +she asked, following the thread of +her thought.</p> + +<p>"One; Willy. That is, he's not so very +little now, but he's a good bit younger than +Phil and I; Phil is my twin. Willy—oh, I +suppose he must be fourteen, or somewhere +about there, to a field or two."</p> + +<p>"Basil is twelve," said Margaret, thoughtfully. +"And does he—or did he, two years +ago,—I suppose a boy develops very quickly,—did +he want to be climbing and jumping +and running <i>all</i> the time?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see!" said Gerald, gravely. "Why—yes, +I should say so, Miss Montfort. Of +course he stops now and then to eat; and then +there's the time that he's asleep, you know; +you have to take out that. But otherwise,—yes, +I should say you had described Willy's +existence pretty well."</p> + +<p>"And climbing on roofs?" Margaret went +on. "And tumbling into bogs, and turning +somersaults? What <i>can</i> be the pleasure of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +turning oneself wrong side up and getting the +blood into one's head?"</p> + +<p>Margaret stopped suddenly, and the colour +rushed into her face; no need of somersaults +in her case. For had not this young man +been turning somersaults the first time she +saw him? And turning them in the same +senseless way, just for the joy of it, apparently? +She glanced at him, and he was +blushing too; but he met her look of distress +with one so comic in its quizzical appeal, that +she laughed in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"I love to turn somersaults!" he murmured. +"'Twas the charm of my chirping +childhood; it is now the solace of my age. +Don't be severe, Miss Montfort. I turn them +now, sometimes; I will not deceive you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh, yes, I know!" said Margaret, +timidly, but still laughing in spite of herself. +"I—I saw you the other day, Mr. Merryweather. +I thought—you seemed to be enjoying +yourself very much."</p> + +<p>"No! Did you, though?" cried Gerald. "I +say! Where was it? I never meant to do it +when people were round. I'm awfully sorry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Margaret, confused. "Why +shouldn't you? It—it was by the edge of +the bog. I had come round that way, and +you were leaping with a pole about the bog, +and I—stayed to watch you. I hope you +don't mind;" this foolish girl was blushing +again furiously, which was most unnecessary; +"and—I thought you must be +a foreigner; I don't know why. And—and +then you came out, and turned a somersault, +and—I wondered why, that was all. You +see, I never had a brother, and I have never +known any boys in all my life till now. I +don't mean that you are a boy, of course!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I <i>am!</i>" cried Gerald. "What +else am I but a boy? I wish they could hear +you at home. Why, I'm just Jerry, you know, +and—and I've always been that kind of boy, +I'm afraid; just like Willy, only a good deal +worse. And now—well, I've been through +college, and now I'm in the School of Mines, +and I'm twenty-one, and all that, but I can't +seem to make myself feel any older, don't you +know. I don't know what's going to become +of me. Hilda says I won't grow up till I fall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>—oh! +you don't know Hilda, do you, Miss +Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"Hilda?" repeated Margaret. "I only +know Hilda in the 'Marble Faun.'"</p> + +<p>"Hildegarde Merryweather; Hildegarde +Grahame she used to be. I thought you +might possibly have—well, she's my aunt +according to the flesh. I wish you did know +her!"</p> + +<p>"Your aunt? Is she—is she about Uncle +John's age? I know so few people, you see. +I have lived a very quiet life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! She—well, I suppose she's a +little older than you, but not very much. +She married Roger, don't you know. He's +my half-uncle all right, but he's ever so many +years younger than the Pater, nearer our age, +you might almost say; and Hildegarde and +the girls, my sisters,—I say! I wish you +knew them all, Miss Montfort."</p> + +<p>"I wish I did," said Margaret, simply. +"There are no girls of my own age near +here. Last year I had my cousins, and I +miss them so much!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you must!" said sympathetic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +Gerald. "Girls are no end—I—I mean, +I like them too, ever so much." He paused, +and wished he knew the right thing to say. +How pretty and sweet she was! Not like +Hilda, of course (Hilda was this young man's +ideal of what a girl should be), but with a +little quiet way of her own that was very +nice. She must have no end of a time of it +with these youngsters! He spoke his thought +aloud. They were nearing Fernley, and he +must leave her soon. "You must be having +some difficulty with those youngsters, Miss +Montfort. If I could help you any time, I +wish you'd let me know. There have always +been such a lot of us at home, I'm used to +most kinds of children, you see; and I should +be ever so glad—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.png" width="270" height="400" alt=""'Won't you come in?'"" title=""'Won't you come in?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'Won't you come in?'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Margaret, gratefully. +"I am sure you are very kind; and +if you would advise me sometimes—now +that Uncle John is away—I should be most +grateful. But—I ought to be able to manage +them myself, it seems to me, without help. +If I can only make them love me!" She +looked straight at Gerald, and her dark gray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +eyes were very wistful in their unconscious +appeal.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see 'em not!" said the young +man, straightway. "Little beggars! They +couldn't help themselves!" He was about +to add that he would thrash them handsomely +if they did not love her, but pulled +himself together, and blushed to his ears, and +was only comforted by seeing out of the tail +of his eye that the girl was wholly unconscious +of his blushes. After all, there was +some sense in freckles and sunburn.</p> + +<p>But here they were now at the gates of +Fernley. "Won't you come in?" said Margaret. +But Gerald, becoming once more +conscious of his working-clothes, which he +had entirely forgotten, excused himself. If +he might come some evening soon? Yes, he +might, and should. He lingered still a moment, +and Margaret, after a moment's shyness, held +out her hand frankly. "I am so glad to know +you!" she said, simply. "Uncle John—Mr. +Montfort said I was to be good to you, and +I will try."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you couldn't be anything else!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +said Gerald, with fervour. "Thanks, awfully, +Miss Montfort. Good-bye!" Lifting his cap, +the young man turned away, feeling homesick, +and yet cheerful. Passing round the +corner of the house, and finding himself well +out of sight of the young girl, he relieved his +feelings by turning a handspring; and on +coming to his feet again, encountered the +awful gaze of two greenish eyes, bent upon +him from an upper window of the house.</p> + +<p>"Now I've done it!" said the youth, brushing +himself, and assuming all the dignity of +which he was master. "Wonder who that +is? Housekeeper, perhaps? Quite the Gorgon, +whoever it is. Wish I didn't turn over +so easily."</p> + +<p>Margaret went into the house singing, with +a lighter heart than she had felt since Uncle +John's letter came. Perhaps she had made +a friend; at any rate, a pleasant acquaintance. +What a frank, nice, gentlemanly—boy! "For +he is a boy, just as he says!" she acknowledged +to herself. And what kind, honest +eyes he had; and how thoughtful to offer to +help her with the children!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her pleasant meditations were harshly interrupted. +Miss Sophronia came down-stairs, +with her brown and yellow shawl drawn over +her shoulders; this, Margaret had learned, +was a bad sign.</p> + +<p>"Margaret, who was that young man? I +saw you! There is no use in attempting to +conceal anything from me, my dear. I saw +you talking with a young man at the gate."</p> + +<p>"Why should I conceal it?" asked Margaret, +wondering. "It was Mr. Merryweather, +Cousin Sophronia. He was a +schoolmate of Uncle John's,—I mean his +father was."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense!" cried the lady, +sharply. "Don't tell me anything of the +kind, miss. He was a common workman, +a day-labourer. I tell you I saw him! Do +you suppose I have no eyes in my head? I +shall consider it my duty to tell your uncle +as soon as he comes home. I am surprised at +you, Margaret. I thought at least you were +discreet. William's daughters would no more +think of talking with such a person—but +that comes of leaving a young person alone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +here with servants. My dear, I shall make +it a point henceforward—"</p> + +<p>She stopped; for the gentle Margaret +turned upon her with eyes of fire. "Cousin +Sophronia, I cannot listen to this; I will not +listen! I am a gentlewoman, and must be +spoken to as a gentlewoman. I am eighteen +years old, and am accountable to no one except +Uncle John for my behaviour. Let me pass, +please! I want to go to my room."</p> + +<p>The girl swept by, her head high, her +cheeks burning with righteous wrath. Miss +Sophronia gazed after her speechless; it was +as if a dove had ruffled its wings and flown in +her face. "Ungrateful girl!" said the lady +to herself. "I never meet with anything but +ingratitude wherever I go. She is as bad as +those girls of William's, for all her soft looks. +The human heart is very, very depraved. But +I shall do my duty, in spite of everything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE SECOND CONQUEST.</h3> + + +<p>The boys came home late for tea that +night, bubbling over with joy. Basil declared +that they did not want any supper. +"Mrs. Peyton gave us some of her supper. +I say, Cousin Margaret, isn't she bully?"</p> + +<p>"Basil, if you <i>could</i> find another adjective +now and then! I cannot imagine anything +less appropriate to Mrs. Peyton than—the +one you used."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it doesn't matter! She <i>is</i> +bully! She had broiled chicken, a whole +one, and she just took a little piece off the +breast for herself, and then she told Mert and +me each to take a leg and run. And we did! +And Mert sat down in the china bath-tub +with his, and smashed it,—cracked it, at +least,—and she said she didn't care."</p> + +<p>"And the table-drawer was full of choco<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>late +peppermints," chimed in Merton, "and +we ate so many, I don't feel very well now, I +think, p'r'aps."</p> + +<p>"And she told us lots of things!" cried +Basil again; he looked towards Miss Sophronia, +with sparkling eyes. "She told us +about when she was a little girl, and used +to stay here, when Uncle John's puppa and +mumma were alive. I say! And you were +here, too, she said, Cousin Sophronia. And +she said—lots of things!" The boy stopped +suddenly, and gave his brother a look of +intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Ho!" said Merton, "I know what you +mean,—you mean about the ghost, that +scared—I say! You stop pinching, will +you? I'll punch your—"</p> + +<p>"Merton!" said Margaret, warningly.</p> + +<p>"Well, he was pinching me!" whined +Merton. "And it did scare you, didn't it, +Cousin Sophronia?"</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia looked disturbed. "Merton, +you should speak when you are spoken +to!" she said, severely. "I am surprised +that Mrs. Peyton should have told you such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +things. There certainly were some very +strange occurrences at Fernley, Margaret, +when I was a young girl. They never were +explained to my satisfaction; indeed, I never +heard of their being explained at all. Little +boys, if you do not want any supper, you +may as well run away. I do not approve +of their going to see Emily Peyton, +Margaret. I shall make a point of their +not doing so in future. She was always +malicious."</p> + +<p>She seemed much fluttered, and Margaret, +wondering, hastened to change the subject. +"I wonder where Susan D. can be. I have +not seen the child since I came in, and she +did not answer when I called her. Elizabeth, +do you—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Margaret, my love!" Miss +Sophronia interposed. "Susan D. is in bed; +I sent her to bed an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Sophronia! Without her +supper? What had she done?"</p> + +<p>"She was disobedient, my dear,—disobedient +and impertinent. I have no doubt +that this will have an excellent effect upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +the child. Basil, what do you want? I +told you to go away."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Margaret, could I speak to you +a moment, please?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>"I will come to you, Basil," said Margaret, +quickly. "Will you excuse me, Cousin Sophronia, +please? I have quite finished. +Now, Basil, what is it?"</p> + +<p>She led the boy carefully out of earshot, +for thunder and lightning were in his face, +and she foresaw an outburst.</p> + +<p>"Susan D. is in bed!" cried Basil. "She has +had no supper at all; Elizabeth said so. That +woman sent her. Cousin Margaret, I won't +stand it. I—I'll set fire to her clothes! I'll +shoot her! I'll—I'll kill her some way—"</p> + +<p>Margaret laid her hand over the boy's +mouth. "You will be silent!" she said. +"Not a word, not a syllable, till you can +speak like a civilised being. We will have +no savages here."</p> + +<p>Basil said no word,—he knew well enough +when he must obey,—but he set his teeth, +and clenched his fists; the veins on his +temples swelled, his whole childish frame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +shook with anger. Margaret had never +seen any one, not even Rita, in such a passion +as this. For a few moments, the two +stood motionless, facing each other. Then +Margaret took the boy's hand in hers, and +led him out into the garden. Still holding +his hand, she paced up and down the +green walk in silence, Basil following obediently. +The evening was falling soft and +dusk; the last bird was chirping sleepily; +the air was full of the scent of flowers. +Behind the dark trees, where the sun had +gone down, the sky still glowed with soft, +yellow light. "See!" said Margaret, presently. +"There is the first star. Let us +wish! Oh, Basil dear, let us wish—and +pray—for a good thing, for strength to +overcome—ourselves."</p> + +<p>The boy's hand pressed hers convulsively, +but he did not speak at first. Presently he +said, almost in a whisper, "She is so little,—and +so thin! I told Mother I would take +care of her. But—I said—I would try not +to let go of myself, too."</p> + +<p>Very tenderly Margaret drew the child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +down beside her, on a rustic bench that +stood under one of the great tulip-trees. +In the quiet darkness, she felt his heart +open to her even more than it had done +yet. In the hour that followed, she learned +the story of a wild, faithful nature, full of +mischief, full of love. The passionate love +for his mother, whom he remembered well; +the faithful, scowling devotion to the little +sister, whom no one should scold but himself, +and whom he shook, and bullied, and +protected with a sole eye to her good; all +this, and much more, Margaret learned. The +two sat hand in hand, and took counsel +together. "Oh, it is so good to have some +one to talk to," cried Basil.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it, dear?" said Margaret. "Now +you know how I feel with Uncle John away; +and—oh, Basil, before I had Uncle John,—when +my father died,—oh, my dear! But +you are going to be my brother now, Basil,—my +dear, dear little brother, aren't you? +And you will tell me how to make Susan +D. love me. I think you do love me a little +already, don't you, Basil?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>For all answer, Basil threw his arms round +her, and gave her such a hug as made her gasp +for breath.</p> + +<p>"Dear boy," cried Margaret, "don't—kill +me! Oh, Basil! I tried to hug Susan D. +the other day, and I might as well have +hugged the door! She won't even let me kiss +her good night; that is, she lets me, but there +is no response. Why doesn't she like me, do +you think?"</p> + +<p>"She does!" said Basil. "Or she will, +soon as she can get out of herself. Don't you +know what I mean, Cousin Margaret? It's +as if she had a dumb spirit, like that fellow +in the Bible, don't you know? Nobody but +me understands; but you will, just once you +get inside."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but how shall I ever get inside?" +said Margaret.</p> + +<p>Basil nodded confidently. "You will!" he +said. "I know you will, some time. Oh, +Cousin Margaret, mayn't I take her something +to eat? She's always hungry, Susan D. is, +and I know she won't sleep a mite if she +doesn't have anything. I—no, I won't let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +go again, but it <i>is</i> the meanest, hatefullest +thing that ever was done in the world! Now +isn't it, Cousin Margaret? Don't you think +so yourself?"</p> + +<p>Sorely puzzled as to the exact path of duty, +Margaret tried to explain to the boy how +ideas of discipline had changed since Cousin +Sophronia was a young girl; how, probably, +she had herself been brought up with rigid +severity, and, never having married, had kept +all the old cast-iron ideas which were now +superseded by wider and better knowledge and +sympathy. As to this particular point, +what should she say? Her whole kind nature +revolted against the thought of the hungry +child, alone, waking, perhaps weeping, with +no one to comfort her; yet how could she, +Margaret, possibly interfere with the doings +of one old enough to be her mother?</p> + +<p>Pondering in anxious perplexity, she chanced +to raise her eyes to the house. It was brightly +lighted, and, as it happened, the curtains had +not been drawn. "Look!" said Margaret, +pressing the boy's hand in hers. "Basil, +look!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>One long, narrow window looked directly +upon the back stairs, which led from the servants' +hall to the upper floor. Up these +stairs, past the window, a figure was now seen +to pass, swiftly and stealthily; a portly figure, +carrying something that looked like a heaped +up plate; the figure of Frances the cook. It +passed, and in a moment more they saw light, +as of an opening door, flash into the dark +window of the corner room where the little +girl slept.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Basil," said Margaret, "I +wouldn't worry any more about Susan D.'s +being hungry. There is one person in Fernley +whom no one, not even Uncle John, can +manage; that is Frances."</p> + +<p>An hour or so later, Margaret was coming +down from the nursery. Merton had announced, +as bedtime drew near, that he "felt +a pain;" and Margaret had no difficulty in +tracing it to Mrs. Peyton's careless indulgence. +She stole down quietly to the cheerful back +room where Frances and Elizabeth sat with +their sewing, and begged for some simple +remedy. Frances rose with alacrity. "Check<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>erberry +cordial is what you want, Miss Margaret," +she said. "I've made it for thirty +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'year'">years</ins>, and I hope I know its merits. No +wonder the child is sick. If some had their +way, everybody in this house 'ud be sick to +starvation."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it was the other thing in this +case, Frances," said Margaret, meekly. "I'm +afraid Master Merton ate too many rich things +at Mrs. Peyton's." Now in general, Frances +could not abide patiently the mention of Mrs. +Peyton; but this time she declared she was +glad the child had had enough to eat for once. +"'Twill do him no harm!" she said, stoutly. +"Give him ten drops of this, Miss Margaret, +in a wine-glass of hot water,—wait a minute, +dear, and I'll mix it myself,—and he'll turn +over and go to sleep like a lamb. Treating +children as if they was one half starch and +t'other half sticks! Don't tell me!"</p> + +<p>Knowing that none of this wrath was +directed against herself, Margaret wisely held +her tongue, and departed with her glass, leaving +Frances still muttering, and Elizabeth +with lips pursed up in judicious silence. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +Merton took it and felt better, and was glad +enough to be petted a little, and finally to be +tucked up with the hot water-bottle for a comforter.</p> + +<p>As has been said, Margaret was coming +down-stairs after this mission was fulfilled, +when she met Miss Sophronia coming up. +"All quiet up-stairs, my dear?" said the lady. +"I am going to bed myself, Margaret, for I +feel a little rheumatic, or I should rather say +neuralgic, perhaps. These things are very +obscure; the doctor says my case is a very remarkable +one; he has never seen another like +it. Yes, and now I am going to make sure +that this child is all right, and that she does +not actually need anything. Duty, Margaret, +is a thing I can never neglect."</p> + +<p>Margaret followed her cousin into the room, +feeling rather self-reproachful. Perhaps she had +been unjust in her judgment. Cousin Sophronia +was of course doing the best, or what she +thought the best, for this poor wild little girl.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia advanced towards the bed, +holding up her candle. Margaret, looking +over her shoulder, saw the child lying fast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +asleep, her hand under her cheek. Her face +was flushed, and her fair hair lay in a +tangle on the pillow. Margaret had never +seen her look so nearly pretty. There were +traces of tears on her face, too, and she sobbed +a little, softly, in her sleep.</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing!" whispered Margaret; +but Miss Sophronia was not looking at Susan +D. now. With stiff, outstretched finger she +pointed to the floor. "Look at that!" she +said, in a penetrating whisper. Indeed, the +child had dropped her clothes on the floor all +at once, and they lay in an untidy heap, +shocking to Margaret's eyes, which loved to +see things neatly laid. She shook her head +and was about to murmur some extenuation +of the offence, when—Miss Sophronia set +down the candle on the stand; then, with a +quick, decided motion, she pulled the sleeping +child out of bed. "Susan D.," she said, "pick +up your clothes at once. Never let me find +them in this condition again. Shocking!"</p> + +<p>The child stood helpless, bewildered, blinking, +half awake, at the light, not in the least +understanding what was said to her. Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +Sophronia took her by the shoulder, not unkindly, +and repeated her command. "Pick +them up at once, my dear! Let this be a +lesson to you, never to leave your clothes on +the floor again." Still only half comprehending, +the child stooped, stumbling as she did +so, and picking up the clothes, laid them on +the chair as she was directed.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Miss Sophronia, in high +satisfaction. "Now, my dearest Margaret, +you will see that this child will never neglect +her clothes again. A lesson promptly administered, +on the spot, is worth all the preaching +in the world. Get into bed again, Susan D., +and go to sleep like a good child. Some day +you will be very grateful to your Cousin +Sophronia for teaching you these things."</p> + +<p>She turned away with the candle. Margaret, +standing in the shadow, saw the child +still standing in the middle of the room, a +forlorn, shivering little figure, silent; the most +piteous sight those tender eyes had ever looked +upon. Softly the girl closed the door. "Margaret," +she heard her cousin say. "Oh, she is +gone down-stairs!" and the steps went away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +along the entry. But Margaret groped her +way to where Susan D. stood; the next moment +she had the child in her arms, and was +pressing her close, close. A rocking-chair was +by; she had seen it, and knew where to +lay her hand to draw it forward. She sank +down in it, and rocked to and fro, murmuring +inarticulate words of comfort. The night was +warm, but still the child shivered; Margaret, +groping again, found a shawl, and wrapped it +round her. There was no more holding off, +no more resistance; the little creature clung +around Margaret's neck with a desperate hold, +as if she dared not let her go for an instant. +Her breast heaved once or twice, silently; +then she burst into a passion of tears, and +sobbed on her cousin's heart. "I love you!" +cried the child. "You are good, and I love +you! Don't—don't leave me alone, please +don't!"</p> + +<p>Margaret held her close in her warm, loving +arms. "My lamb!" she said. "My little +girl! Indeed I will not leave you. Quiet +now, dearie; quiet and don't cry! Oh, Susan +D., I have no mother, either, dear; let us love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +each other a great, great deal!" and Susan D. +sobbed, and curled closer yet, as if she would +wind herself into the very heart that beat so +kindly and so tenderly.</p> + +<p>So they sat, till the sobs died away into +soft, broken breathings. Margaret began to +sing, and crooned one after another the old +songs that Katy used to sing to her when she +was rocked just so on that broad, faithful +Irish breast. Susan D. lifted her head a little +towards her ear. "What is it?" said Margaret, +bending down.</p> + +<p>"I—I do like singing!" whispered the +child.</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded, and sang on. By and by +the almost frantic clasp of the small arms +loosened; the head sank back gently on her +arm; the child was asleep. Margaret rose +to lay her down, but instantly she started up +again, affrighted, and cried out, and begged +not to be left alone. What was to be done? +Margaret hesitated; then she bade the child +hold fast, and slowly, carefully she made her +way down the stairs and through the passage +to her own room, and did not pause till the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +little child was lying safe, happy, and wondering, +in the white bed, in the wonderful White +Room.</p> + +<p>"Crowd me?" said Cousin Margaret. "Not +a bit of it! There is plenty of room, and in the +morning we will have a most lovely cuddle, +and tell stories. But now go to sleep this very +minute, Susan D., while I do my hair. Good +night, little sister!"</p> + +<p>"Good night!" said Susan D. "I love you! +Good night!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE VOICE OF FERNLEY.</h3> + + +<p>From that night, Susan D. was Margaret's +friend and true lover.</p> + +<p>She followed her round in the hope of +being able to do some little service of love. +She brought her flowers, and hunted the +fields for the largest and finest berries for +her. At any hour of the day, Margaret +might feel a little hot hand slide into hers +and deposit a handful of warm, moist raspberries +or blueberries. Sometimes this bred +trouble, as when Merton waylaid his sister, +and wrested the hard-won treasures from her +for his own refreshment; with the result of +shrieks and scuffling, and a final thrashing +from his elder brother; or, as when Cousin +Sophronia detected the child sidling along +with closed palm, and demanded to see what +she had. Susan D. resisted stoutly, till at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +length, yielding to superior strength, she +threw the berries on the floor, and trampled +them into the carpet. There was a good deal +of this kind of thing; but still the change +was a blessed one, and Margaret, when she +met the beaming look of love in the child's +face, and remembered the suspicious scowl +that had greeted her only so few days ago, +was most thankful, and felt it to be worth +any amount of trouble, even to taking the +spots out of the carpet, which was a hard +thing to do.</p> + +<p>"I told you!" said Basil, smiling superior. +"I told you, once you got inside, you'd find +the kid not at all so bad. I say, Cousin Margaret, +you're not a fraidcat, are you?"</p> + +<p>"A what, Basil?"</p> + +<p>"A fraidcat! Don't you know what a +fraidcat is, Cousin Margaret? Seems to me +you didn't learn many modern expressions +when you were a little girl, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Really, Basil, I think I learned all that +were necessary," said Margaret, laughing. +"I did not learn slang, certainly, nor boy-jargon, +and I don't care to take lessons,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +thank you. Don't you think good, plain +English is good enough?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it sounds all right from you, +'cause you are you, and you wouldn't match +yourself if you didn't talk that way, I suppose. +But it would sound silly for a boy to +go on so, don't you see?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I don't see very well, Basil, +but no matter. The things I am afraid of are +spiders and caterpillars and cows! Is that +what you wanted to know?"</p> + +<p>"N—not exactly!" said the boy; "but +no matter, Cousin Margaret. You haven't +got a ball of twine, have you? Oh, yes, +please! Thank you, that is just exactly +what I wanted. You always know where +things are, don't you? That's bully!"</p> + +<p>The children had been very good for the +last few days; singularly good, Margaret +thought, as she sat on the verandah in the +pleasant twilight, reviewing the day's doings, +and wondering what happy day would bring +Uncle John back to her. Certainly, he would +find a good deal of improvement. Merton +had not run away since his experience in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +bog; Susan D. was won, and Basil grew more +and more helpful and considerate. More than +that, the children, all three of them, seemed +to have quieted down of their own accord. +At this hour, they were generally shouting +and screaming, racing over the grass, or +tumbling headlong from the trees, keeping +Margaret in a constant state of terror, and +Cousin Sophronia in one of peevish irritation +and alarm. But now they had gone +of their own will to the summer-house, saying +that they were going to tell stories, and see +how quiet they could be. They were quiet, +indeed, for she could not even hear their +voices. Cousin Sophronia, coming out with +an inquiry, became instantly suspicious, and +declared she must go and see what they were +about; but Margaret begged her to wait a +little. "They can do no harm in the summer-house!" +she said. "And—Uncle John +thought we would better let them alone a +good deal, Cousin Sophronia."</p> + +<p>"My love," said the lady, seating herself, +and folding her hands for a good talk, "your +Uncle John is a babe, simply a babe in these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +matters. Even if he knew anything about +children,—which he does not,—it would be +my duty, my positive duty, to shield him from +all anxieties of this kind. Why else did I +come here, my love, except for this very +thing?"</p> + +<p>"Did you, then, know that Cousin Anthony +wished to send the children?" asked Margaret, +perhaps not without a spice of gentle +malice.</p> + +<p>"Ahem! No, not precisely, my love! +But—but it was my firm resolve to protect +dearest John from every species of annoyance. +Every species, my dear! John Montfort—good +gracious! What is that?" She +started to her feet, and Margaret followed her +example. A sound seemed to pass them in +the air; a strange sound, something between +a sigh and a moan. It swelled for a moment, +then died away among the trees beyond the +verandah. Miss Sophronia clutched Margaret's +arm. "You—you made that noise?" +she whispered. "Say it was you, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it was not I, Cousin Sophronia!" +said Margaret. "It must have been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +sudden gust of wind. It is gone now; it +must surely have been the wind. Shall I +bring you a wrap? Do you feel chilly?"</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia still held her arm. "No, +no! Don't go!" she said. "I—I feel rather +nervous to-night, I think. Nerves! Yes, no +one knows what I suffer. If you had any +idea what my nights are— You may be right, +my dear, about the wind. It is a misfortune, +I always say, to have such exquisite sensibility. +The expression is not my own, my love, it is +Doctor Soper's. Shall we go into the house, +and light the lamps? So much more cheerful, +I always think, than this dreary twilight."</p> + +<p>Margaret hesitated a moment. The evening +was very warm, and once in the house, her +cousin would be sure to shut all the windows +and draw the curtains. Still, she must not be +selfish—</p> + +<p>"If I join you in a few minutes, Cousin +Sophronia?" she said. "The children—I suppose +it is time for them to come in. I will just +go down to the summer-house and see—"</p> + +<p>The sentence remained unfinished; for at +that moment, almost close beside them, arose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +the strange moaning sound once more. This +time Miss Sophronia shrieked aloud. "Come!" +she cried, dragging Margaret towards the +house. "Come in this moment! It is the +Voice! The Voice of Fernley. I will not stay +here; I will not go in alone. Come with me, +Margaret!"</p> + +<p>She was trembling from head to foot, and +even Margaret, who was not timid about such +matters, felt slightly disturbed. Was this +some trick of the children? She must go and +hunt them up, naughty little things. Ah! +What was that, moving in the dusk? It was +almost entirely dark now, but something was +certainly coming up the gravel walk, something +that glimmered white against the black +box-hedges. Miss Sophronia uttered another +piercing shriek, and would have fled, but +Margaret detained her. "Who is that?" said +the girl. "Basil, is that you? Where are the +other children?"</p> + +<p>The white figure advanced; it was tall and +slender, and seemed to have no head. Miss +Sophronia moaned, and cowered down at +Margaret's side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg pardon!" said a deep, cheerful +voice. "I hope nothing is wrong. It is only +I, Miss Montfort,—Gerald Merryweather."</p> + +<p>Only a tall youth in white flannels; yet, at +that moment, no one, save Uncle John himself, +could have been more welcome, Margaret +thought. "Oh, Mr. Merryweather," she said, +"I am so glad to see you! No, nothing is +wrong, I hope; that is—won't you come up +on the verandah? My cousin—Cousin Sophronia, +let me present Mr. Merryweather."</p> + +<p>Mr. Merryweather advanced, bowing politely +to the darkness; when, to his amazement, the +person to whom he was to pay his respects +sprang forward, and clutched him violently.</p> + +<p>"You—you—you abominable young man!" +cried Miss Sophronia, shrilly. "You made +that noise; you know you made it, to +annoy me! Don't tell me you did not! Get +away from here this instant, you—you—impostor!"</p> + +<p>Margaret was struck dumb for an instant, +and before she could speak, Gerald Merryweather +was replying, quietly, as if he had +been throttled every day of his life:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If choking is your object, madam, you can +do it better by pulling the other way, I would +suggest. By pulling in this direction, you see, +you only injure the textile fabric, and leave +the <i>corpus delicti</i> comparatively unharmed."</p> + +<p>He stood perfectly still; Miss Sophronia +still clutched and shook him, muttering inarticulately; +but now Margaret seized and +dragged her off by main force. "Cousin +Sophronia!" she cried. "How can you—what +can you be thinking of? This is Mr. +Merryweather, I tell you, the son of Uncle +John's old schoolmate. Uncle John asked +him to call. I am sure you are not well, or +have made some singular mistake."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe a word of it!" said Miss +Sophronia. "Not one single word! What was +he making that noise for, I should like to +know?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Merryweather answered with a calm +which he was far from feeling. His pet necktie +was probably ruined, his collar crumpled, +very likely his coat torn. He had taken pains +with his toilet, and now he had been set upon +and harried, by some one he had never seen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +but whom he felt sure to be the Gorgon who +had glared at him out the window several +days before. This was a horrid old lady; he +saw no reason why he should be attacked in +the night by horrid old ladies, when he was +behaving beautifully.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry!" he said, rather stiffly. "I +was not conscious of speaking loud. Miss +Montfort asked who it was, and I told her. +If I have offended <i>her</i>, I am ready to apologise—and +withdraw."</p> + +<p>This sounded theatrical, it occurred to him; +but then, the whole scene was fit for the +variety stage. Poor Margaret felt a moment +of despair. What should she do?</p> + +<p>"Mr. Merryweather," she said, aloud, "Miss +Montfort has been much startled. Just before +you came, we heard a noise; rather a strange +noise, which we could not account for. I think +her nerves are somewhat shaken. She will be +better in a moment. And—and I was just +going to the summer-house, to call the children. +Would you come with me, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia clamoured that she could not +be left alone, but for once Margaret was deaf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +to her appeals. She was too angry; her guest—that +is, her uncle's guest—to be set upon +and shaken, as if he were a naughty child +caught stealing apples,—it was too shameful! +He would think they were all out of their +senses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so sorry! So sorry!" she found +herself saying aloud. "Mr. Merryweather, I +am so mortified, so ashamed! What can I say +to you?"</p> + +<p>"Say!" said Gerald, his stiffness gone in an +instant. "Don't say anything, Miss Montfort. +I—I don't mean that; I mean, there's nothing +<i>to</i> say, don't you know? Why, it wasn't +your fault! Who ever thought of its being +your fault?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to have recognised you sooner!" +said Margaret. "It was pretty dark, and we +had really been startled, and my cousin is very +nervous. If you would <i>please</i> overlook it this +time I should be so grateful!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>say!</i>" cried the young man. "Miss +Montfort, if you go on in this way, I shall go +back and ask the old—and ask the lady to +choke me some more. I—I <i>like</i> being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +choked! I like anything; only don't go on +so! Why, it isn't any matter in the world. +Perhaps it relieved her feelings a bit; and it +didn't do me any harm." He felt of his necktie, +and settled his collar as well as he could, +thankful for the friendly darkness. "Indeed, +I am all right!" he assured her, earnestly. +"Trivets aren't a circumstance to me, as far +as rightness is concerned. Now if you'll +forget all about it, Miss Montfort, please, I +shall be as happy as the bounding roe,—or +the circumflittergating cockchafer!" he added, +as a large June-bug buzzed past him.</p> + +<p>"You are very good!" murmured Margaret. +"I am sure—but here is the summer-house. +Children, are you here? Basil! Susan D.!"</p> + +<p>No answer came. The frogs chirped peacefully, +the brook at the foot of the garden sent +up its soft, bubbling murmur; there was no +other sound. It was very dark, for the trees +were thick overhead. The fireflies flitted +hither and thither, gleaming amid the thickets +of honeysuckle and lilac; the young +man's figure beside her glimmered faintly +in the darkness, but there was no glimpse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +of Susan D.'s white frock, or Basil's white +head.</p> + +<p>"Children!" cried Margaret again. "Don't +play any tricks, dears! It is bedtime, and after, +and you must come in. Susan, Cousin wants +you, dear!"</p> + +<p>Silence; not a rustle, not a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I should suppose they had gone," said +Gerald. "Or do you think they are playing +hookey? Wait a minute, and I'll hunt +around."</p> + +<p>But search availed nothing; the children +were not in the summer-house, nor near it. +"They must have gone back to the house," +said Margaret. "Thank you so much, Mr. +Merryweather. I am sorry to have given you +all this trouble for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, trouble!" said Gerald. "This isn't +my idea of trouble, Miss Montfort. What +a pretty place this is! Awfully—I mean, +extremely pretty."</p> + +<p>"It is pretty in the daytime. I should +hardly think you could see anything now, it +is so dark."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, it is dark; but I mean it seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +such a pleasant place to sit and rest in a little. +Hadn't you better sit and rest a minute, Miss +Montfort? The children are all right, you +may be sure. Gone to bed, most likely, like +good little kids. I—I often went to bed, +when I was a kid."</p> + +<p>Margaret could not help laughing; nevertheless, +she turned decidedly towards the +house. "I am afraid I cannot be sure of +their having gone to bed," she said. "I think +I must find them, Mr. Merryweather, but if +you are tired, you shall rest on the verandah +while I hunt."</p> + +<p>Gerald did not want to rest on the verandah, +particularly if his recent assailant were +still there. He wanted to stay here in the garden. +He liked the fireflies, and the frogs; the +murmur of the brook, and the soft voice speaking +out of the darkness. He thought this was +a very nice girl; he wished she would not be +so uneasy about those tiresome youngsters. +However, as there seemed to be no help for +it, he followed Margaret in silence up the +gravel walk. She need not hurry so, he +thought; it was very early, not half past<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +eight yet. He wanted to make his call; he +couldn't dress up like this every night; and, +besides, it was a question whether he could +ever wear this shirt again by daylight.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia was not on the verandah.</p> + +<p>"Will you not come in?" asked Margaret +at the door; but Gerald felt, rather than +heard, the uneasiness in her voice, and decided, +much against his inclination, that it +would be better manners to say good night +and take himself off.</p> + +<p>"I think I must be going," he had begun +already, when, from the open door behind +them, burst a long, low, melancholy wail. +The girl started violently. The young man +bent his ear in swift attention. The voice—the +cry—trembled on the air, swelled to a +shriek; then died slowly away into a dreary +whisper, and was gone.</p> + +<p>Before either of the young people could +speak, the library door was flung open, and +a wild figure came flying out. Miss Sophronia +threw herself once more upon Gerald, and +clung to him with the energy of desperation. +"My dear young man!" cried the distracted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +lady. "Save me! Protect me! I knew your +father! I was at school with your mother,—Miranda +Cheerley. Save me,—hold me! Do +not desert me! You are my only hope!"</p> + +<p>It was past nine o'clock when Gerald Merryweather +finally took his departure. The +children had been discovered,—in bed, and +apparently asleep. Three neatly folded piles +of clothes showed at least that they had gone +to bed in a proper and reasonable manner. +Miss Sophronia Montfort had finally been +quieted, by soothing words and promises, +followed up by hot malted milk and checkerberry +cordial, the latter grimly administered +by Frances, and so strong that it made the +poor lady sneeze. Margaret was to sleep with +her; Gerald was to come the next morning to +see how she was; meanwhile, Frances and +Elizabeth, the latter badly frightened, the +former entirely cool and self-possessed, were +to sleep in the front chamber, and be at hand +in case of any untoward event.</p> + +<p>There was nothing further to be done save +to shake hands warmly with Margaret, submit +to an embrace from Miss Sophronia, and go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +Mr. Merryweather strode slowly down the +garden path, looking back now and then at +the house, where already the lights on the +lower floor were being extinguished one by +one.</p> + +<p>"That's a very nice girl!" he murmured. +"Hildegarde would approve of that girl, I +know. But on the other hand, my son, that +is a horrid old lady. I should like—Jerry, +my blessed infant, I <i>should</i> like—to make +that old lady run!" He turned for a final +glance at the house; considered the advisability +of turning a handspring; remembered +his white flannels, and, with a bow to the +corner window, was gone in the darkness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>WHO DID IT?</h3> + + +<p>"Frightened, was she?" said Mrs. Peyton. +"How sad! Margaret, you are not looking at +my bed-spread. This is the first day I have +used it, and I put it on expressly for you. +What is the use of my having pretty things, +if no one will look at them?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is very beautiful!" said Margaret. +"Everything you have is beautiful, +Mrs. Peyton."</p> + +<p>"It is Honiton!" said Mrs. Peyton. "It +ought to be handsome. But you do not care, +Margaret, it is perfectly easy to see that. You +don't care about any of my things any more. +I was simply a new toy to you in the beginning, +and you liked to look at me because I +was pretty. Now you have new toys,—Sophronia +Montfort, I suppose, and a sweet plaything +she is! and you pay no further attention +to me. Deny it if you can!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret did not attempt to deny it; she +was too absolutely truthful not to feel a +certain grain of fact in the lady's accusation. +Life was opening fuller and broader upon her +every day; how could she think of lace bed-spreads, +with three children constantly in her +mind, to think and plan and puzzle for? To +say nothing of Uncle John and all the rest. +And as to the "new toy" aspect, Margaret +knew that she might well enough turn the +accusation upon her lovely friend herself; but +this she was too kind and too compassionate +to do. Would not any one want toys, perhaps, +if forced to spend one's life between four +walls?</p> + +<p>So she simply stroked the exquisite hand +that lay like a piece of carved ivory on the +splendid coverlet, and smiled, and waited for +the next remark.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would not deny it!" the lady +said. "You couldn't, you see. Well, it doesn't +matter! I shall be dead some day, I hope and +trust. So Sophronia was frightened? Tell me +more about it!"</p> + +<p>"She was very much frightened!" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +Margaret. "Mrs. Peyton, I wanted to ask +you—when the children came home yesterday, +they said something about your having +told them some story of old times here; of a +ghost, or some such thing. I never heard of +anything of the sort. Do you—do you remember +what it was? I ought not to torment +you!" she added, remorsefully; for Mrs. +Peyton put her hand to her head, and her +brow contracted slightly, as if with pain.</p> + +<p>"Only my head, dear, it is rather troublesome +to-day; I suppose I ought not to talk very +much! Yes, there was a ghost, or something +like one, in old times, when I was a child. I +wasn't at Fernley at the time, but I heard +about it; Sophronia was there, and I remember +she was frightened into fits, just as you +describe her last night."</p> + +<p>"What—do you remember anything about +it? It isn't that old story of Hugo Montfort, +is it, the man who looks for papers?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, nothing so interesting as that! I +always longed to see Hugo. No, this is just a +voice that comes and goes, wails about the +rooms and the gardens. It is one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +Montfort women, I believe, the one who cut +up her wedding-gown and then went mad."</p> + +<p>"Penelope?"</p> + +<p>"That's it! Penelope Montfort. Once in +a while they see her, but very rarely, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Peyton, you are making fun of me. +Aunt Faith told me there was no ghost except +that of Hugo Montfort; of course I don't mean +that there is really that; but no ghost that +people had ever fancied."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my dear, all this was before +Mrs. Cheriton came to Fernley! Before such +a piece of perfection as she was, no wandering +ghost would have ventured to appear. Now +don't stiffen into stone, Margaret Montfort! I +know she was a saint, but she never liked me, +and I am not a saint, you see. I was always +a sinner, and I expect to remain one. And +certainly, there was a white figure seen about +Fernley, at that time I was speaking of; and +no one ever found out what it was; and if you +want to know any more, you must ask John +Montfort. There, now my head is confused, +and I shall not have a straight thought again +to-day!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + +<p>The lady turned her head fretfully on the +pillow. Margaret, who knew her ways well, +sat silent for some minutes, and then began to +sing softly:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +O sweetest lady ever seen,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(With a heigh ho! and a lily gay,)</span><br /> +Give consent to be my queen,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(As the primrose spreads so sweetly.)</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Before the long ballad was ended, the line +between Mrs. Peyton's eyebrows was gone, +and her beautiful face wore a look of contentment +that was not common to it.</p> + +<p>"Go away now!" the lady murmured. +"You have straightened me out again. Be +thankful for that little silver voice of yours, +child! You can do more good with it in the +world than you know. I really think you are +one of the few good persons who are not +odious. Go now! Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>Margaret went away, thinking, as she had +often thought before, how like her Cousin Rita +this fair lady was. "Only Rita has a great, +great deal more heart!" she said to herself. +"Rita only laughs at people when she is in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +one of her bad moods. Dear Rita! I wonder +where she is to-day. And Peggy is driving +the mowing machine, she writes; mowing +hundreds of acres, and riding bareback, and +having a glorious time."</p> + +<p>A letter had come the day before from +Peggy Montfort, telling of all her delightful +doings on the farm, and begging that her +darling Margaret would come out and spend +the rest of the summer with her. "Darling +Margaret, do, do, <i>do</i> come! Nobody can possibly +want you as much as I do; nobody can +begin to think of wanting you one hundredth +part as much as your own Peggy."</p> + +<p>Margaret had laughed over the letter, and +kissed it, and perhaps there was a tear in her +eye when she put it away to answer. It was +good, good to be loved. And Peggy did love +her, and so she hoped—she knew—did +Uncle John; and now the children were +hers, two of them, at least; hers to have +and to hold, so far as love went. Go away +and leave them now, when they needed her +every hour? "No, Peggy dear, not even to +see your sweet, round, honest face again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Coming back to the house she found Gerald +Merryweather on the verandah. He was in +his working clothes again, but they were +fresh and spotless, and he was a pleasant +object to look upon. He explained that he +had called to inquire for the ladies' health, +and to express his hope that they had suffered +no further annoyance the night before. He +was on his way to the bog, and just thought +he would ask if there was anything he could +do.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Margaret, gratefully. +"You are very good, Mr. Merryweather. No; +nothing more happened; and my poor cousin +got some sleep after awhile. But I still cannot +imagine what the noise was, can you?"</p> + +<p>"So many noises at night, don't you +know?" said Gerald. "Especially round +an old house like this. You were not personally +alarmed, were you, Miss Montfort? +I think you may be pretty sure that there +was nothing supernatural about it. Oh, I +don't mean anything in particular, of course; +but—well, I never saw a ghost; and I don't +believe in 'em. Do you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I didn't suppose any one +believed in them nowadays. But,—do you +know, I really am almost afraid my Cousin +Sophronia does. She will not listen to any +explanation I can suggest. I really—oh, +here she is, Mr. Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia greeted Gerald with effusion. +"I heard your voice, my dear young +man," she said, "and I came down to beg +that you would take tea with us this evening—with +my niece—she is quite the same as +my own niece; I make no difference, dearest +Margaret, I assure you,—with my niece and +me. If—if there should be any more unpleasant +occurrences, it would be a comfort +to have a man, however young, on the premises. +Willis sleeps in the barn, and he is +deaf, and would be of little use. He couldn't +even be of the smallest use, if we should be +murdered in our beds."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we are not going to be murdered, +Cousin Sophronia," said Margaret, lightly. +"We are going to be very courageous, and +just let that noise understand that we care +nothing whatever about it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Margaret, my love, you are trivial," responded +Miss Sophronia, peevishly. "I wish +you would pay attention when I speak. I +ask Mr. Merryweather to take tea with us, +and you talk about noises. Very singular, I +am sure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but of course it would be very +pleasant, indeed, to have Mr. Merryweather +take tea with us!" cried Margaret, in some +confusion. "I hope you will come, Mr. +Merryweather."</p> + +<p>It appeared that nothing in the habitable +universe would give Mr. Merryweather greater +pleasure. At half-past six? He would not +fail to be on hand; and if there should be +noises again, why—let those who made them +look to themselves. And, with this, the +young man took his leave.</p> + +<p>The children were very troublesome that +day. Margaret could not seem to lay her +hand on any one of them. If she called +Basil, he was "in the barn, Cousin Margaret, +helping Willis with the hay. Of course I'll +come, if you want me, but Willis seems to +need me a good deal, if you don't mind."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<p>When it was time for Susan D.'s sewing, +the child came most obediently and affectionately; +but her thimble was nowhere to be +found, and she had mislaid her spool, and, +finally, when everything was found, she had +not sat still ten minutes, when she was "<i>so</i> +thirsty; and must go and get a glass of +water, please, Cousin Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Susan," said Margaret, "I want to talk +to you, and I cannot seem to get a chance for +a word. Sit still now, like a good little girl, +and tell me—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cousin Margaret, I couldn't find my +thimble first, you see; and then there wasn't +any spool, and I left it in my basket yesterday, +I'm sure I did, but Merton <i>will</i> take it to +teach the kitten tricks with, and then it gets +all dirty. Don't you know how horrid a +spool is when a kitten has been playing with +it? You have to wind off yards and yards, +and then the rest is sort of fruzzly, and keeps +making knots."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. Susan D., what were you +doing last evening?" said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Last evening?" repeated the child. "We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +were in the summer-house, Cousin Margaret. +We were playing Scottish Chiefs, don't you +know? Merton had to play Lord Soulis, +'cause he drew the short straw; but he got +cross, and wouldn't play good a bit."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't play <i>well</i>, or <i>nicely</i>," corrected +Margaret. "But after that, Susan dear?"</p> + +<p>"That took a long time," said the child. +It seemed, when she was alone with Margaret, +that she could not talk enough; the little +pent-up nature was finding most delightful +relief and pleasure in unfolding before the +sympathy that was always warm, always +ready.</p> + +<p>"You see, when it came to carrying me off +(I was Helen Mar, after I'd been Marion and +was dead), Merton was just horrid. He said +he wouldn't carry me off; he said he wouldn't +have me for a gift, and called me Scratchface, +and all kinds of names. And of course +Lord Soulis wouldn't have talked that way; +so Wallace (of course Basil <i>had</i> to be Wallace +when he drew the long straw, and he never +cheats, though Merton does, whenever he gets +a chance)—well, and so, Wallace told him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +if he didn't carry me off in two shakes of a +cat's tail—"</p> + +<p>"Susan D.!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what he <i>said</i>, Cousin Margaret. +I'm telling you just as it happened, +truly I am. If he didn't carry me off in two +shakes of a cat's tail, he'd pitch him over the +parapet,—you know there's a splendid parapet +in the summer-house,—and so he wouldn't, +and so he did; but Mert held on, and they +both went over into the meadow. I guess +Lord Soulis got the worst of it down there, +for when they climbed up again he did carry +me off, though he pinched me hard all the way, +and made my arm all black and blue; I didn't +say anything, because I was Helen Mar, but I +gave it to him good—I mean well—this +morning, and served him out. And then +Wallace had to rescue me, of course, and that +was <i>great</i>, and we all fell over the parapet +again, and that was the way I tore the gathers +out of my frock. So you see, Cousin +Margaret!"</p> + +<p>Susan D. paused for breath, and bent over +her sewing with exemplary diligence. Mar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>garet +took the child's chin in her hand, and +raised her face towards her.</p> + +<p>"Susan," she said, gently, "after you had +that fine play—it must have been a great +play, and I wish I had seen it—after that, +what did you do?"</p> + +<p>"We—we—went to bed!" said Susan D.</p> + +<p>"Why did you go without coming to +say good night? Answer me truly, dear +child."</p> + +<p>The two pairs of gray eyes looked straight +into each other. A shadow of fear—a suggestion +of the old look of distrust and suspicion—crept +into the child's eyes for a +moment; but before Margaret's kind, firm, +loving gaze it vanished and was gone. A +wave of colour swept over her face; her eyes +wavered, gave one imploring glance, and +fell.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to tell me, Susan D.?" +asked Margaret once more.</p> + +<p>"N—no!" said Susan D., in a whisper +scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>"No? And why not, dear child?"</p> + +<p>"I promised!" whispered Susan D.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Susan D., do you know anything about +that strange noise that frightened us so last +night?"</p> + +<p>But not another word would Susan D. say. +She looked loving, imploring, deprecating; +she threw her arms around Margaret's neck, +and hid her face and clung to her; but no +word could she be brought to say. At last +Margaret, displeased and puzzled, felt constrained +to tell the child rather sternly to fold +her work and go away, and not come back to +her till she could answer questions properly. +Susan went obediently; at the door she hesitated, +and Margaret heard a little sigh, which +made her heart go out in sympathy toward +the little creature. Instantly she rose, and, +going to the child, put her arms round her +affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Darling, I think you are puzzled about +something," she said, quickly. Susan D. nodded, +and clung close to her cousin's side.</p> + +<p>"I will not ask you anything more," said +Margaret. "I am going to trust you, Susan +D., not to do anything wrong. Remember, +dear, that the two most important things in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +the world are truth and kindness. Now kiss +me, dear, and go."</p> + +<p>Left alone, Margaret sat for some time, +puzzling over what had happened, and wondering +what would happen next. It was evident +that the children were concerned in some +way, or at least had some knowledge, of the +mysterious sounds which had so alarmed +Miss Sophronia. What ought she to do? +How far must she try to force confession from +them, if it were her duty to try; and how +could she do it?</p> + +<p>Thus pondering, she became aware of voices +in the air; she sat near the open window, and +the voices were from above her. The nursery +window! She listened, bending nearer, +and holding her breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you back out now, Susan D., it +will be mean!" Basil was saying. "What +did you say to her?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say anything!" Susan D. answered, +sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell her that we had a +pain, and didn't want to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'bothér'">bother</ins> her, 'cause +she had company?" cried Merton, eagerly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +"I had that all fixed to tell her, only she +never asked me."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't tell her a lie," said Susan D. +"Basil, you wouldn't tell her a lie, either, +you know you wouldn't, when she looks at +you that way, straight at you, and you can't +get your eyes away."</p> + +<p>"Of course I wouldn't," said Basil. "And +the reason she didn't ask you, Merton, was +because she knew it wouldn't make much difference +what you said. That's the trouble +about you. But now, Susan, if you had only +had a little dipplo-macy, you could have got +through all right, as I did."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by dipplo-macy," +retorted Susan.</p> + +<p>"Ho, stupid!" sneered Merton.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you know what it means +yourself!" cried Basil. "Come, tell now, if +you are so wise. What does it mean? Ah, +I knew you didn't know! You <i>are</i> a sneak, +Mert! Well, I guess in the beginning, when +Adam was making the words, you know, he +must have wanted to hide from the serpent or +something—perhaps a hairy mammoth, or a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +megatherium, I shouldn't wonder,—so he +said, 'Dip low,' and then 'Massy!' for a +kind of exclamation, you see. And spelling +gets changed a lot in the course of time; you +can see that just from one class to another in +the grammar school. Well, anyhow, it means +a sort of getting round things, managing +them, without telling lies, or truth either."</p> + +<p>"You've got to tell one or the other," +objected Susan D.</p> + +<p>"No, you haven't, either! Now, how did I +manage? I have just kept out of Cousin +Margaret's way all day, so far, and I'm going +to keep out the rest of it. I've been helping +Willis ever since breakfast, and he says I +really helped him a great deal, and I'll make +a farmer yet; only I won't, 'cause I'm going +into the navy. And now pretty soon I'm +going in, in a tearing hurry, and ask her if I +can take some lunch and go over to see Mr. +Merryweather at the bog, 'cause he is going to +give me a lesson in surveying. He <i>is;</i> he said +he would, any time I came over. And so, +you see—"</p> + +<p>"That's all very well," interrupted Merton,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +scornfully. "But when it comes night, what'll +you do then, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Easy enough. I shall have a headache, +and she won't ask me questions when I have +a headache; she'll just sit and stroke my +head, and put me to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Ho! How'll you get your headache? Have +to tell a lie then, I guess."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I won't! And if you say that +again, I'll bunt you up against the wall. Easy +enough to get a headache. I don't know +whether I shall eat hot doughnuts, or just +ram my head against the horse-chestnut-tree +till it aches; but I'll get the headache, you +may bet your boots—"</p> + +<p>"Basil, she asked you not to say that, and +you said you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. Pull +out a hair, Susan D., and then I shall remember +next time. Ouch! You pulled out two."</p> + +<p>"I say, come on!" cried Merton. "We've +got lots of things to see to. We have to—"</p> + +<p>The voices were gone. Margaret sat still, +sewing steadily, and working many thoughts +into her seam.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>It might have been half an hour after this +that Basil burst into the room, breathless and +beaming, his tow-colored hair standing on end. +"Oh, Cousin Margaret, can I—I mean may +I, go over to the bog? Mr. Merryweather said +he would give me a lesson in surveying; and +Frances is going to put me up some luncheon, +and I'm in a <i>norful</i> hurry. May I go, please?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Basil; you may go after you have +answered me one question."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cousin Margaret," said the diplomat. +"I may miss Mr. Merryweather if I don't go +pretty quick, but of course I will."</p> + +<p>"Basil, did you make that strange noise +last night?"</p> + +<p>"No, Cousin Margaret!" cried the boy; the +smile seemed to break from every corner of +his face at once, and his eyes looked straight +truth into hers. "I did not. Is that all? +You said one question! Thank you ever and +ever so much! Good-bye!" And he was gone.</p> + +<p>"It is quite evident that I am not a dipplo-mat," +said Margaret, with a laugh that ended +in a sigh. "I wish Uncle John would come +home!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE.</h3> + + +<p>The evening fell close and hot. Gerald +Merryweather, taking his way to Fernley +House, noticed the great white thunder-heads +peering above the eastern horizon. "There'll +be trouble by and by," he said.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"I wonder, oh, I wonder,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">If they're afraid of thunder.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>"Ever lapsing into immortal verse, my son. +You are the Lost Pleiad of Literature, that's +what you are; and a mighty neat phrase that +is. Oh, my Philly, why aren't you here, to +take notice of my coruscations? Full many a +squib is born to blaze unseen, and waste its +fizzing—Hello, you, sir! Stop a minute, will +you?"</div> + +<p>A small boy was scudding along the path +before him. He turned his head, but on see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>ing +Gerald he only doubled his rate of speed. +Merton was a good runner for his size, but it +was ill trying to race the Gambolling Greyhound, +as Gerald had been called at school. +Two or three quick steps, two or three long, +lopping bounds, and Master Merton was +caught, clutched by the collar, and held aloft, +wriggling and protesting.</p> + +<p>"You let me go!" whined Merton. "Oh, +please Mr. Merryweather, don't stop me now. +It's very important, indeed, it is."</p> + +<p>"Just what I was thinking," said Gerald. +"We'll go along together, my son. I wouldn't +squirm, if I were you; destructive to the +collar; believe one who has suffered. What! +it is not so many years. Take courage, small +cat, and strive no more!"</p> + +<p>Merton, after one heroic wriggle, gave up +the battle, and walked beside his captor in +sullen silence.</p> + +<p>"Come!" said Gerald. "Let us be merry, +my son. As to that noise, now!"</p> + +<p>"What noise?" asked Merton, peevishly.</p> + +<p>"The roarer, my charmer. Why beat about +the bush? You frightened the old—that is,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +you alarmed both your cousins, with the joyful +instrument known among the profane as a +roarer. Tush! Why attempt concealment? +Have I not roared, when time was? And a +very pretty amusement, I could never deny; +but I wouldn't try it again, that's all. You +hear, young sir? I wouldn't try it again."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean—" Merton +began; but at this Gerald lifted him gently +from the ground by his shirt-collar, and, waving +him about, intimated gently that it would +not be good for his health to tell lies.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't do it, anyhow!" Merton +protested. "Honest, I did not."</p> + +<p>"Honesty is not written in your expressive +countenance, Master Merton Montfort," said +Gerald. "However, it may be so. We shall +see. Meantime, young fellow, and merely as +between man and man, you understand, it +would be money in your youthful pocket if +you could acquire the habit of looking a +person in the eyes, and not directing that +cherubic gaze at the waistcoat buttons, or +even the necktie, of your in-ter-loc-utor. +Now, here we are at the house, and you may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +go, my interesting popinjay. Bear in mind +that my eye is upon you. Adieu! adieu! +Rrrrrememberrrr me!!!"</p> + +<p>Gerald put such dramatic fervour into this +farewell that Merton was as heartily frightened +as he could have desired, and scurried +away without stopping to look behind.</p> + +<p>"That's not such a very nice little boy, I +believe," said Gerald. "T'other one is worth +a cool dozen of Master Merton. Well, they +won't do much mischief while I am to the +fore. Though I should be loth to interfere +with the end they probably have in view. I +should like full well myself to make that— Ah, +good evening, Miss Montfort!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was so hot after tea, that even Miss +Sophronia made no suggestion of sitting in +the house. They all assembled on the +verandah, which faced south, so that generally +here, if anywhere, a breath of evening +coolness might be had. To-night, however, +no such breath was to be felt. The thunder-heads +had crept up, up, half-way across the +sky; their snowy white had changed to black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>ish +blue; and now and again, there opened +here or there what looked like a deep cavern, +filled with lurid flame; and then would follow +a long, rolling murmur, dying away into faint +mutterings and losing itself among the treetops.</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia was very uneasy. At one +moment she declared she must go into the +house, she could not endure this; the next +she vowed she would rather see the danger as +it came, and she would never desert the +others, never.</p> + +<p>"Do you think there is danger, my dear +young man?" she asked, for perhaps the tenth +time.</p> + +<p>"Why, no!" said Gerald. "No more than +usual, Miss Montfort. These trees, you see, +are a great protection. If the lightning +strikes one of them, of course it will divert +the fluid from the house. If you have no +iron about your person—"</p> + +<p>But here Miss Sophronia interrupted him. +She begged to be excused for a moment, and +went into the house. When she returned, +her head was enveloped in what looked like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +a "tidy" of purple wool, while her feet were +shuffling along in a pair of blue knitted +slippers.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said, "I have removed every +atom of metal, my dear young man, down to +my hairpins, I assure you; and there were +nails in my shoes, Margaret. My dear, I +advise you to follow my example. So important, +I always say, to obey the dictates of +science. I shall always consider it a special +providence that sent this dear young man +to us at this trying time. Go at once, +dearest Margaret, I implore you."</p> + +<p>But Margaret refused to adopt any such +measures of precaution. She was enjoying +the slow oncoming of the storm; she had +seldom seen anything more beautiful, she +thought, and Gerald agreed with her. He +was sitting near her, and had taken Merton +on his knee, to that young gentleman's manifest +discomposure. He wriggled now and +then, and muttered some excuse for getting +down, but Gerald blandly assured him each +time that he was not inconveniencing him in +the least, and begged him to make himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +comfortable, and entirely at home. Meantime, +Margaret had called Basil and Susan +D. to her side, and was holding a hand of +each, calling upon them from time to time +to see the wonderful beauty of the approaching +storm. They responded readily enough, +and were really interested and impressed. +Once or twice, it is true, Basil stole a glance +at his sister, and generally found her looking +at him in a puzzled, inquiring fashion; then +he would shake his head slightly, and give +himself up once more to watching the sky.</p> + +<p>It was a very extraordinary sky. The +clouds, now deep purple, covered it almost +from east to west; only low down in the +west a band of angry orange still lingered, +and added to the sinister beauty of the scene. +The red caverns opened deeper and brighter, +and now and again a long, zigzag flash of gold +stood out for an instant against the black, +and following it came crack upon crack of +thunder, rolling and rumbling over their +heads. But still the air hung close and +heavy, still there was no breath of wind, no +drop of rain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sitting thus, and for the moment silent, +there came, in a pause of the thunder, a +new sound; a sound that some of them, at +least, knew well. Close at hand, rising apparently +from the very wall at their side, +came the long, eerie wail of the night before. +Louder and louder it swelled, till it +rang like a shriek in their ears, then suddenly +it broke and shuddered itself away, till only +the ghost of a sound crept from their ears, +and was lost. Margaret and Gerald both +sprang to their feet, the girl held the children's +hands fast in hers, the lad clutched the +boy in his arms till he whimpered and cried; +their eyes met, full of inquiry, the same +thought flashing from blue eyes and gray. +Not the children? What, then? Before +Gerald could speak, Miss Sophronia was +clinging to him again, shrieking and crying; +calling upon him to save her; but this +time Gerald put her aside with little ceremony.</p> + +<p>"If you'll take this boy!" he cried. +"Hold him tight, please, and don't let him +get off. I'm going—if I may?" he looked +swift inquiry at Margaret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes!" cried the girl. "Do go! +We are all right. Cousin Sophronia, you +<i>must</i> let him go."</p> + +<p>Dropping Merton into the affrighted lady's +arms, the lithe, active youth was in the house +in an instant, following the Voice of Fernley. +There it came again, rising, rising,—the cry +of a lost soul, the wail of a repentant spirit.</p> + +<p>"A roarer, by all means!" said young Merryweather. +"But where, and by whom?" +He ran from side to side, laying his ear +against the wall here, there, following the +sound. Suddenly he stopped short, like a +dog pointing. Here, in this thickness of the +wall, was it? Then, there must be a recess, +a something. What corresponded to this +jog? Ha! that little low door, almost hidden +by the great picture of the boar-hunt. +Locked? No; only sticking, from not having +been opened, perhaps, for years. It yielded. +He rushed in,—the door closed behind him +with a spring. He found himself in total +darkness,—darkness filled with a hideous +cry, that rang out sharp and piercing,—then +fell into sudden silence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it you, Master Merton?" said a whisper. +"I didn't wait; I thought maybe—"</p> + +<p>Gerald stretched out his arm, and grasped +a solid form. Instantly he was grasped in +return by a pair of strong arms,—grasped +and held with as powerful a grip as his +own. A full minute passed, two creatures +clutching each other in the pit-dark, listening +to each other's breathing, counting each +other's heart-beats. Then—</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked Gerald, under his +breath.</p> + +<p>"None of your business!" was the reply, +low, but prompt. "Who are you, if it comes +to that?"</p> + +<p>"Why,—why, you're a woman!"</p> + +<p>"And you're a man, and that's worse. +What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"I am taking tea here. I'm a visitor. I +have been here all the evening."</p> + +<p>"And I've been here twenty years. I'm +the cook."</p> + +<p>The young man loosed his hold, and +dropped on the floor. He rocked back +and forth, in silent convulsions of laughter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The cook! Great Cæsar, the cook! Oh, +dear me! Stop me, somebody. What—what +did you do it for?" he gasped, between +the paroxysms.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Young Mr. Merryweather, is it? +Do be quiet, sir! We're close by the verandah. +Was—was she frightened, sir?"</p> + +<p>"She? Who? One of 'em was."</p> + +<p>"She—the old one. I wouldn't frighten +Miss Margaret; but she has too much sense. +Was the other one scared, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Into fits, very near. You did it well, +Mrs. Cook! I couldn't have done it better,—look +here! I shall have to tell them, +though. I came expressly to find out—"</p> + +<p>Groping in the dark, Frances clutched his +arm again, this time in a gentler grasp. +"Don't you do it, sir!" she whispered. +"Young gentleman, don't you do it! If +you do, she'll stay here all her days. No +one can't stand her, sir, and this were the +only way. Hark! Save us! What's that?"</p> + +<p>No glimmer of light could penetrate to the +closet where they stood, in the thickness of +the wall, but a tremendous peal of thunder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +shook the house, and Miss Sophronia's voice +could be heard calling frantically on Gerald +to come back.</p> + +<p>"I must go," said Gerald. "I—I won't +give you away, Mrs. Cook. Shake!"</p> + +<p>"You're a gentleman, sir," replied Frances. +They shook hands in the dark, and +Gerald ran out. Even as he opened the +door the storm broke. A violent blast of +wind, a blinding flare, a rattling volley +of thunder, and down came the rain.</p> + +<p>A rush, a roar, the trampling of a thousand +horses; and overhead the great guns +bellowing, and the flashes coming and going—it +was a wild scene. The family had +come in, and were all standing in the front +hall. All? No, two, only,—Margaret and +Miss Sophronia. In the confusion and tumult, +the children had escaped, and were +gone. Margaret, a little pale, but perfectly +composed, met Gerald with a smile, as if it +were the most ordinary thing in the world +for young gentlemen to walk out of the wall. +She was supporting Miss Sophronia, who had +quite lost her head, and was crying piteously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +that they would die together, and that whoever +escaped must take her watch and chain +back to William. "Poor William, what will +become of him and those helpless babes?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Miss Montfort," said Gerald, +cheerfully. "I ran the noise down, and it +was the simplest thing in the world. Nothing +to be alarmed about, I do assure you; +nothing."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" asked Margaret, in an +undertone.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you by and by," replied the +young man, in the same tone. "Not now, +please; I promised—somebody. You shall +know all in good time."</p> + +<p>His look of bright confidence was not to be +resisted. Margaret nodded cheerfully, and +submitted to be mystified in her own home +by an almost total stranger. Indeed, the +Voice of Fernley had suddenly sunk into +insignificance beside the Voice of Nature. +The turmoil outside grew more and more +furious. At length a frightful crash announced +that the lightning had struck somewhere +very near the house. This was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +last straw for poor Miss Sophronia. She +fled up-stairs, imploring Gerald and Margaret +to follow her. "Let us die together!" she +cried. "I am responsible for your young +lives; we will pass away in one embrace. +The long closet, Margaret! It is our only +chance of life,—the long closet!"</p> + +<p>The long closet, as it was called, was in +reality a long enclosed passage, leading from +the Blue Room, where Miss Sophronia slept, +to one of the spare chambers beyond. It was +a dim place, lighted only by a transom above +the door. Here were kept various ancient +family relics which would not bear the light +of day; a few rusty pictures, some ancient +hats, and, notably, a bust of some deceased +Montfort, which stood on a shelf, covered +with a white sheet, like a half-length ghost. +Margaret did not think this gloomy place at +all a cheerful place for a nervous woman in +a thunder-storm; so, nodding to Gerald to +follow, she ran up-stairs. But before she +reached the landing, terrific shrieks began to +issue from the upper floor; shrieks so agonising, +so ear-piercing, that they dominated even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +the clamour of the storm. Margaret flew, and +Gerald flew after. What new portent was +here? Breathless, Margaret reached the door +of the long closet. It stood open. On the +floor inside crouched Miss Sophronia, uttering +the frantic screams which rang through the +house. Apparently she had lost the use of +her limbs from terror, else she would not +have remained motionless before the figure +which was advancing towards her from the +gloom of the long passage. First a dusky +whiteness glimmered from the black of the +further end, where the half-ghost sat on +its shelf; then gradually the whiteness +detached itself, took shape,—if it could be +called shape,—emerged into the dim half-light,—came +on slowly, silently. Shrouded, +like the ghostly bust behind it, tall and +slender, with dark locks escaping beneath the +hood or cowl that drooped low over its face,—with +one hand raised, and pointing stiffly +at the unhappy woman,—the figure came on—and +on—till it saw Margaret. Then it +stopped. Next came in view the bright, eager +face of Gerald Merryweather, looking over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +Margaret's shoulder. And at that, the spectre +began, very slowly, and with ineffable dignity, +to retreat.</p> + +<p>"Exclusive party," whispered Gerald. "Objects +to our society, Miss Montfort. Shall I +head him off, or let him go?"</p> + +<p>Margaret made no reply; she was bending +over the poor lady on the floor, trying to +make her hear, trying to check the screams +which still rang out with piercing force.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 264px;"> +<img src="images/gs07.png" width="264" height="400" alt="A LIVELY GHOST." title="A LIVELY GHOST." /> +<span class="caption">A LIVELY GHOST.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Cousin Sophronia! Cousin, do stop! Do +listen to me! It is a trick, a naughty, naughty +trick; nothing else in the world. Do, please, +stop screaming, and listen to me. Oh, what +shall I do with her?" This remark was +addressed to Gerald; but that young gentleman +was no longer beside her. He had been +keeping his eye on the spectre, which slowly, +softly glided back and back, until it melted +once more into the thick blackness at the +further end. Gerald dodged out into the hall, +and ran along the outer passage, to meet, as +he expected, the ghost full and fair at the +other door. "Run!" cried a small voice. +"I'll hold him; run!" Gerald was grasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +once more, this time by a pair of valiant little +hands which did their best, and which he put +aside very gently, seeing a petticoat beneath +them. "You sha'n't catch him!" cried the +second spectre, clinging stoutly to his legs.</p> + +<div class='poem2'> +"Twice he wrung her hands in twain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But the small hands closed again!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Meantime the spectre-in-chief had darted +back into the closed passage. There was a +crash. The half-ghost toppled over as he +ran against it, and was shivered on the floor, +adding another noise to the confusion. The +phantom raced along the passage, took a flying +leap over Miss Sophronia's prostrate form, +revealing, had any looked, an unsuspected +blackness of leg beneath the flowing white, +and scudded along the square upper hall. By +this time Gerald was at his heels again, and a +pretty race it was. Round the hall, up the +stairs, and round the landing of the attic flight. +At the attic door the spectre wavered an +instant,—then turned, and dashed down-stairs +again. Once more round the upper hall, now +down the great front staircase, gathering his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +skirts as he went, the black legs now in +good evidence, and making wonderful play. A +good runner, surely. But the Greyhound was +gaining; he was upon him. The phantom gave +a wild shriek, gained the front door with one +desperate leap, and plunged, followed by his +pursuer, into the arms of a gentleman who +stood in the doorway, in the act of entering.</p> + +<p>"Easy, there!" said Mr. Montfort, receiving +pursuer and pursued with impartial calm. "Is +it the Day of Judgment, or what?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>A DEPARTURE.</h3> + + +<p>"I am extremely sorry, Sophronia, that you +were so alarmed last night. I trust you feel +no ill effects this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Ill effects! My dear John, I am a wreck! +Simply a wreck, mentally and physically. I +shall never recover from it—never."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that, Cousin Sophronia!" +exclaimed Margaret, who was really much distressed +at all that passed.</p> + +<p>"My love, if it is the truth, I must say +it. Truth, Margaret, is what I live for. No, +I shall never recover, I feel it. My prayer is +that these unhappy children may never know +that they are the cause of my untimely—"</p> + +<p>"Has Basil made his apology?" asked Mr. +Montfort, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, John, yes; I am bound to say he +has, though he showed little feeling in it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +Not a tenth part so much as little Merton, +who was in real sorrow,—actually shed tears,—although +he had no hand in the cruel deceit. +Ah! Merton is the only one of those +children who has any heart."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?" said Mr. Montfort, "I didn't +know it was as bad as that."</p> + +<p>"Quite, I assure you, dearest John. If it +were not for my poor William and his children, +I should take Merton with me and be a +mother to him. His nerves, like mine, are +shattered by the terrible occurrences of the +last two nights. He was positively hysterical +as he pointed out to me—what I had +already pointed out to you, Margaret—that +the <i>real thing</i> had not been explained. I +might, in time, live down the effect of those +children's wicked jest; but the Voice of Fernley +has never been explained, and never will +be."</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort pulled his moustache, and +looked out of the window, observing the +prospect; but Margaret cried:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin Sophronia, you are wrong; +indeed, indeed you are! Young Mr. Merry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>weather +found out all about it last night, only +he had not time to tell us. He said it was +something perfectly simple, and that there +was no need of being alarmed in the least."</p> + +<p>"By the way," said Mr. Montfort, "I have +a note from the lad this morning. He found +some special tools were needed, and went up +to town by the early train to see about them. +May be gone a day or two, he says. What +was the noise like, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>Margaret was about to tell all she knew, +but Miss Sophronia interrupted. "Spare me, +dearest Margaret, spare me the recalling of +details. I am still too utterly broken,—I +shall faint, I know I shall. John, it was simply +the voice that was heard ten, or it may +be fifteen years ago, when I was a young girl. +You must remember; it is impossible but +that you must remember."</p> + +<p>"I remember perfectly," said Mr. Montfort. +"That was thirty years ago, Sophronia; that +was in 1866. Oh, yes, I remember." Again +Mr. Montfort became absorbed in the view +from the window. His face was very grave; +why, then, did the buttons on his waistcoat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +shake? "And Master Merton was frightened, +was he?" he resumed, presently. "Ha! that +looks bad. Good morning, Jones," as a respectable-looking +man in livery came up the +gravel walk. "A note for me? no answer? +thanks." The man touched his hat, and departed; +Mr. Montfort opened the pretty, pearl-coloured +note, and read, as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Dear John</span>: + +<p>"Don't punish the children; it was partly my +fault, and partly your own. I supposed you expected +something to happen, and I thought the old trick +would serve as well as a new one.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">"As ever,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">E. P.</span>"<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mr. Montfort, twisting the +note, and frowning at the window. "Precisely! +and so, you were saying, Sophronia—ahem! +that is, you are obliged to leave us?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dearest John, I must go. I could +not, no! I could not sleep another night beneath +this roof. I have told Willis. I am +cut to the heart at leaving you, so helpless, +with only this poor child here, and those—those +dreadful children of Anthony's. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +would so gladly have made a home for you, +my poor cousin. I live only for others; but +still it seems my duty <i>to</i> live, and I am convinced +that another night here would be my +death."</p> + +<p>"I will not attempt to change your purpose, +Sophronia. At the same time I am bound to +tell you that—a—that the disturbance of +which you speak is of no supernatural kind, +but is attributable to—to human agency altogether. +If you wish, I will have it looked +into at once, or we can wait till young Merryweather +comes back. He seemed to know +about it, you say, Margaret. And—but at +any rate, Sophronia, we can write you the +sequel, and, if you feel uneasy, why, as you +say— You have ordered Willis? Then I'll +go and get some tags for your trunks."</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort retired with some alacrity, +and Margaret, with an unexplained feeling +of guilt at her heart, offered to help Miss +Sophronia with her packing.</p> + +<p>An hour later the lady was making her +adieux. The carriage was at the door, Willis +had strapped on the two trunks, and all was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +ready. Mr. Montfort shook his cousin by the +hand, and was sorry that her visit had ended +in such an untoward manner. Margaret +begged Cousin Sophronia's pardon for anything +she might have done amiss. Indeed, the +girl's heart was full of a vague remorse. She +had tried, but she felt that she might have +tried harder to make things go smoothly. +But Miss Sophronia bore, she declared, no +malice to any one.</p> + +<p>"I came, dear John, determined to do my +best, to be a sister to you in every way; it +will always be a comfort to think that I have +been with you these two months. It may be +that some time, when my nerves are restored, +I may be able to come to Fernley again; if +you should make any changes, you understand +me. Indeed, a complete change, my dear +cousin, is the thing I should most recommend. +Missing me as you will,—a companion of your +own age,—you might still marry, dearest +John, you might indeed. Emily—"</p> + +<p>"That will do, Sophronia!" said Mr. Montfort, +sternly. "Have you everything you +want for the journey?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Everything, I think, dear John. Ah! +well, good-bye, Margaret! It has been a blow +to find that you do not love me, my dear, +as I have loved you, but we must bear our +burdens."</p> + +<p>"What do you—what can you mean, +Cousin Sophronia?" asked Margaret, turning +crimson. "I am sure I have tried—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! well, my dear, one gives oneself +away," said the lady. "You said in your letter +to your cousin,—I recall the precise words—'I +have tried to love her, but I cannot +succeed.' Yes; very painful to one who has +a heart like mine; but I find so few—"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Sophronia," cried the girl, all softer +thoughts now merged in a burning resentment. +"You—you read my letter, the letter that +was on my own desk, in my own room?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my love, I did. I hope I know +something about young girls and their ways; +I considered it my duty, my sacred duty, to +see what you wrote."</p> + +<p>"You seem to know little about the ways +of gentle people!" cried Margaret, unable for +once to restrain herself. Her uncle laid his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +hand on her arm. "Steady, little woman!" +he said. His quiet, warning voice brought +the angry girl to herself, the more quickly +that she knew his sympathy was all with her.</p> + +<p>"I—I should not have said that, Cousin +Sophronia," she said. "I beg your pardon! +Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>She could not say more; she stood still, +with burning cheeks, while Mr. Montfort +helped the lady into the carriage.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant journey to you, Sophronia," +he said, as he closed the door. "Willis—"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" cried Miss Sophronia, out of +the window. "Bless you, dearest John! Margaret, +my love, I shall always think of you +most tenderly, believe me, in spite of everything. +It is impossible for me to harbour resentment. +No, my child, I shall always love +you as a sister. I have taken the old vinaigrette +with me, as a little souvenir of you; I +knew it would give you pleasure to have me +use it. Bless you! And, John, if you want +me to look up some good servants for you, I +know of an excellent woman who would be +the very thing—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Willis!" said Mr. Montfort again. "You'll +miss that train, Sophronia, if you don't,—<i>bon +voyage!</i>"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort stood for some seconds looking +after the carriage as it drove off; then he +drew a long breath, and threw out his arms, +opening his broad chest.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" said he. "So that is over. Here +endeth the— What, crying, May Margaret? +Come and sit here beside me, child; or shall +we come out and see the roses? Really astonishing +to have this number of roses in August; +but some of these late kinds are very fine, I +think."</p> + +<p>Chatting quietly and cheerfully, he moved +from one shrub to another, while Margaret +wiped her eyes, and gradually quieted her +troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Uncle John!" she said, +presently. "You know, don't you? You +always know, just as papa did. But—but +I never heard of any one's doing such a thing, +did you?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you, my dear? Well, you see, you +didn't know your Cousin Sophronia when she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +was a girl. And—let us be just," he added. +"You, belonging to the new order, have no +idea of what many people thought and did +forty years ago. I have no doubt, from my +recollection of my Aunt Melissa, Sophronia's +mother, that she read all her children's letters. +I know she searched my pockets once, thinking +I had stolen sugar; I hadn't, that time, +and my white rat was in my pocket, and bit +her, and I was glad."</p> + +<p>Seeing Margaret laugh again, Mr. Montfort +added, in a different tone, "And now, I must +see those boys."</p> + +<p>The children were sent for to the study, +where they remained for some time. Basil +and Susan D. came out looking very grave; +they went up to the nursery in silence, and +sat on the sofa, rubbing their heads together, +and now and then exchanging a murmur of +sympathy and understanding. Merton remained +after the others, and when he emerged +from the fatal door, he was weeping profusely, +and refused to be comforted by Elizabeth; +and was found an hour after, pinching Chico's +tail, and getting bitten in return. Telling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +Margaret about it afterward, Mr. Montfort +said:</p> + +<p>"Basil and the little girl tell a perfectly +straight story. It is just as I supposed; they +were trying the old ghost trick that we other +boys, your father and Richard and I, Margaret, +played on Sophronia years ago. If the +thunder-storm had not brought you all up-stairs, +there would have been some very pretty +ghost-gliding, and the poor soul would very +likely have been frightened into a real fit instead +of an imaginary one. Children don't +realise that sort of thing; I certainly did not, +nor my brothers; but I think these two realise +it now, and they are not likely to try anything +of the kind again. As for the noise,—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle John, I am really much more +puzzled about that noise, for, of course, I saw +the other foolishness with my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Mr. Montfort, comfortably, +"we used to make that noise with a thing +we called a roarer; I don't know whether +they have such things now. You take a +tomato-can, and put a string through it, +and then you— It really does make a fine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +noise, very much what you describe. Yes, +I have that on my conscience, too, Margaret. +You see, I told you I knew this kind of child, +and so I do, and for good reason. But Basil +won't say anything at all about the matter. +He says it was not his hunt, and he will tell +all that he did, but cannot tell on others; +which is entirely proper. But when I turned +to that other little scamp, Merton, I could +get nothing but floods of tears, and entreaties +that I would ask Frances. 'Frances knows +all about it!' he said, over and over."</p> + +<p>"And have you seen Frances?"</p> + +<p>"N—no," replied Mr. Montfort, rather +slowly. "I am going to see Frances now."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, a few minutes later, Frances, +bustling about her kitchen, became aware of +her master standing in the doorway. She became +aware of him, I say, but it was with +"the tail of her eye" only; she took no +notice of him, and went on rattling dish-pans +at an alarming rate. She appeared to be +house-cleaning; at all events, the usually neat +kitchen was in a state of upheaval, and the +chairs and tables, tubs and clothes-horses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +were so disposed that it was next to impossible +for any one to enter. Moreover, Frances +apparently had a toothache, for her face was +tied up in a fiery red handkerchief; and +when Mr. Montfort saw that handkerchief, he +looked grave, and hung about the door more +like a schoolboy than a dignified gentleman +and the proprietor of Fernley House.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Frances," he said at +length, in a conciliatory tone.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, sir," said Frances; and +plunged her mop into a pail of hot water.</p> + +<p>"You have a toothache, Frances? I am +very sorry."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I have; thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"A—Frances—I came to ask if you can +tell me anything about the strange noise that +frightened the ladies so, last night and the +night before."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Frances. "I can't tell +you nothing about it. There do be rats +enough in this house, Mr. Montfort, to make +any kind of a noise; and I do wish, sir, as +the next time you are in town, you would get +me a rat-trap as is good for something.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +There's nothing but trash, as the rats won't +look at, and small blame to them. I can't be +expected to do without things to do with, +Mr. Montfort, and I was saying so to Elizabeth +only this morning."</p> + +<p>"I will see to the traps, Frances. But this +noise that I am speaking of; Master Merton +says—"</p> + +<p>"And I was wishful to ask you, sir, if you +would please tell Master Merton to keep out +of my kitchen, and not come bothering here +every hour in the day. The child is that +greedy, he do eat himself mostly ill every +day, sir, as his father would be uneasy if he +knew it, sir. And to have folks hanging +round my kitchen when I am busy is a thing +I never could abide, Mr. John, as you know +very well, sir, and I hope you'll excuse me for +speaking out; and if you'd go along, sir, and +be so kind, maybe I could get through my +cleaning so as to have dinner not above half +an hour or so late, though I'm doubtful myself, +harried as I have been."</p> + +<p>"I really don't see what I am to do with +Frances," said Mr. Montfort, as he went back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +to his study; "she grows more and more impracticable. +She will be giving me notice to +quit one of these days, if I don't mind. I +am very sure the house belongs to her, and +not to me. But, until Master Gerald Merryweather +comes back, I really don't see how I +am to find out who worked that roarer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>PEACE.</h3> + + +<p>Peace reigned once more at Fernley House; +peace and cheerfulness, and much joy. It +was not the same peace as of old, when Margaret +and her uncle lived their quiet tête-à-tête +life, and nothing came to break the even +calm of the days. Very different was the life +of to-day. The peace was spiritual purely, for +the lively and varied round of daily life gave +little time for repose and meditation, at least +for Margaret. She had begun to give the +children short but regular lessons in the morning, +finding that the day was not only more +profitable but pleasanter for them and for all, +if it began with a little study. And the lessons +were a delight to her. Remembering her +struggles with Peggy,—dear Peggy,—it was +a joy to teach these young creatures the begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>nings +of her beloved English history, and to +see how they leaped at it, even as she herself +had leaped so few years ago. They carried it +about with them all day. Margaret never +knew whom to expect to dinner in these days. +Now a scowling potentate would stalk in with +folded arms and announce that he was William +the Conqueror, and demand the whereabouts of +Hereward the Wake (who was pretty sure to +emerge from under the table, and engage in +sanguinary combat, just after he had brushed +his hair, and have to be sent up to the nursery +to brush it over again); now a breathless pair +would rush in, crying that they were the +Princes in the Tower, and would she please +save them, for that horrid old beast of a Gloster +was coming after them just as fast as he +could come. Indeed, Margaret had to make +a rule that they should be their own selves, +and no one else, in the evening when Uncle +John came home, for fear of more confusion +than he would like.</p> + +<p>"But I get so <i>used</i> to being Richard," cried +Basil, after a day of crusader-life. "You can't +do a king well if you have to keep stopping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +and being a boy half the time. Don't you see +that yourself, Cousin Margaret?"</p> + +<p>Yes, Margaret saw that, but she submitted +that she liked boys, and that it was trying for +a person in private life, like herself, to live all +day in royal society, especially when royalty +was so excited as the Majesty of England was +at this juncture.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but why can't you be some one too, +Cousin Margaret? I suppose Susan D. would +hate to give up being Berengaria, after you +gave her that lovely gold veil—I say, doesn't +she look bul—doesn't she look pretty in it? +I never thought Susan D. would come out +pretty, but it's mostly the way you do her +hair—what was I saying, Cousin Margaret? +Oh, yes, but there are other people you could +be, lots and lots of them. And—Merton +doesn't half do Saladin. He keeps getting +mad when I run him through the body, and I +<i>can't</i> make him understand that I don't mean +those nasty, fat, black things in ponds, when +I call him 'learned leech,' and you know he +<i>has</i> to be the leech, it says so in the 'Talisman.' +And so perhaps you would be Saladin, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +can be Sir Kenneth, though he's too sneaky +for him, too. Or else you could be the hermit, +Cousin Margaret. Oh, do be the hermit! +Theodoric of Engedi, you know, the Flail of +the Desert, that's a splendid one to do. All +you have to do is keep jumping about and +waving something, and crying out, 'I am +Theodoric of Engedi! I am the Flail of the +Desert!' Come on, Cousin Margaret, oh, I +say, do!" And Susan D., tugging at her +cousin's gown, shouted in unison, "Oh, I say, +do, Cousin Margaret!"</p> + +<p>If any one had told Margaret Montfort, three +months before this, that she would, before the +end of the summer, be capering about the garden, +waving her staff, and proclaiming herself +aloud to be the highly theatrical personage +described above, she would have opened her +eyes in gentle and rather scornful amazement. +But Margaret was learning many things in +these days, and among them the art of being +a child. Her life had been mostly spent with +older people; she had never known till now +the rapture of being a little girl, a little boy. +Now, seeing it in these bright faces, that never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +failed to grow brighter at sight of her, she felt +the joy reflected in her own face, in her own +heart; and it was good to let all the quiet, +contained maiden ways go, once in a while, +and just be a child with the children, or a +Flail of the Desert, as in the present instance.</p> + +<p>John Montfort, leaning on the gate, +watched the pretty play, well pleased. +"They have done her all the good in the +world," he said to himself. "It isn't only +what she has done for them, bless her, but +for her, too, it has been a great thing. I was +selfish and stupid to think that a young creature +could go on growing to fulness, without +other young creatures about it. How will +she feel, I wonder, about their going? How +would she like—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 321px;"> +<img src="images/gs08.png" width="321" height="400" alt=""THE 'FLAIL OF THE DESERT.'"" title=""THE 'FLAIL OF THE DESERT.'"" /> +<span class="caption">"THE 'FLAIL OF THE DESERT.'"</span> +</div> + +<p>At this moment he was discovered by +Basil, who charged him with a joyous shout. +"Oh, here is Uncle John! Oh, Uncle John, +don't you want to be Saladin, please? +Here's Merton has hurt his leg and gone off +in a sulk, and I'll get you a <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'scemitar'">scimitar</ins> in a +minute—it's the old sickle, and Willis says +it's so rusty you can't really do much mischief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +with it; and here's the Hermit of +Engedi, you know, and he can shout—"</p> + +<p>But, alas, for the Lion-hearted! When he +turned to summon his hermit, he saw no flying +figure, brandishing a walking-stick and +crying aloud, but a demure young lady, +smoothing her hair hurriedly and shaking +out the folds of her dress, as she hastened to +meet her uncle.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" said Uncle John. "But why +did you stop, Meg? It wouldn't have been +the first time I had played Saladin, I assure +you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, uncle! I am really too much out of +breath to play any more. And besides, it is +near tea-time, and the children must go and +get ready. I will come in a moment, Susan +dear, and do your hair. Are there any letters, +Uncle John? Oh, two, from the girls; how +perfectly delightful! Oh, I must run up, but +we'll read them after tea, shall we, Uncle +John?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart, my dear; and I have +a letter, too, about which I shall want to consult +you. Go now, or Susan D. will be trying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +to braid her own hair, a thing to be +avoided, I have observed."</p> + +<p>Tea over, and Mr. Montfort seated at ease +with his cigar, the children engaged in an +enchanting game of Bat (played with worn-out +umbrellas, from which the sticks had been +taken: this game is to be highly recommended +where there is space for flapping and +swooping), Margaret opened her letters; reopened +them, rather, for it must be confessed +that she had peeped into both while she was +braiding her own hair and changing her dress +for the pretty evening gown her uncle always +liked to see.</p> + +<p>"Peggy is actually off for school, Uncle +John. It does not seem possible that we are +in September, and the summer really gone. +She seems in high spirits over it, dear child. +Listen!</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Darling Dearest Margaret</span>: + +<p>"I am going to-morrow; I waited till the last +minute, so that I could tell you the last of me. My +trunk is almost all packed, and I really think I have +done it pretty well. Thank you, ever and ever and +ever so much, for the nice things to tie up my shoes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +in. They are just lovely, and so is the shoe-bag to +hang against the wall. I mean to put away every +shoe just the very minute I take it off, and not have +them kicking about the closet floor at all, ever. And +the combing-sack! Oh, Margaret, it is a perfect +beauty! Ever so much too pretty to do my hair in, +and mother says so, too, but I shall, because you +made it for me to, and think of you all the time I am, +and—</p> + +<p>"I got a little mixed there, but you will know what +I mean, dearest Margaret. Tell Uncle John I am so +perfectly delighted with the lovely ring, I don't +know <i>what</i> to <i>do</i>. Oh, Margaret, you know how I +always wanted a ring, and how I used to admire that +sapphire of Rita's; and to think of having a sapphire +ring myself—why, I can hardly believe it even now! +I couldn't go to sleep for ever so long last night, just +watching it in the moonlight. Of course I shall write +to Uncle John and thank him myself, but I couldn't +wait just to let him know how happy I was. (Margaret, +if you think he would like it, or at least +wouldn't mind it, you might give him a hug just now +and say I sent it, but don't unless you are <i>perfectly +sure</i> he wouldn't mind, because you know how I <i>love</i> +Uncle John, even if I am just the least bit afraid of +him, and I'm sure that is natural when you think +what a goose I am.)"</p></div> + +<p>Margaret paused, laughing, to throw her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +arms around her uncle, and tell him that this +was "Peggy's hug;" then she went on:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I was so glad to get your last letter, and to hear +all about dear, darling Fernley, and Uncle John, and +Elizabeth and Frances, and all the funny things those +funny children have been doing. Margaret, they are +almost exactly like us children when we were their +age. I never began to think about growing up till +I read about how they carry on, and then saw that +we didn't act so any more, Jean, and Flora, and I. +Jean is younger than me, of course, but she's more +grown up, I really think. I think you must have +a lovely time, now that—well, you said I mustn't +call names, and so I won't, but I know just exactly +what kind of a person she was, Margaret, and <i>so do +you</i>, and you can't deny it, so now!</p> + +<p>"Margaret, of course I do feel rather scared about +school, for I am still very ignorant, and I suppose all +the girls will know about forty thousand times as +much as I do, and they will call me stupid, and I +know I am; but I mean to be brave, and remember +all the things you have said, and mother has helped +me, too, oh, a lot, and she says she just wishes she +had had the chance when she was a girl, and I know +now just how she feels. And then when I come +home, you see, I can teach the little girls, and that +will be great. But I never shall try to teach them +spelling, or history, for you know I cannot; and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +cannot remember to this day who Thomas à Bucket +was, and why they called him that.</p> + +<p>"Hugh came in just now, and I asked him that, +and he laughed, and said Thomas à Bucket was certainly +pale before they got through with him. I +don't know what he means, but he says you will, so +I write it down. Good-bye, dearest, darling Margaret. +Give heaps and oceans and lots of love to Uncle +John, and most of all to your own darling self, from</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Peggy.</span>"<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"I wonder how Peggy will get on at +school?" said Margaret. "Very well, I +should think. Certainly no one can help +liking her, dear girl; and she will learn a +great deal, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"She'll never learn English history," said +Mr. Montfort; "but after all, there are other +things, May Margaret, though you are loth +to acknowledge it."</p> + +<p>"And now for Rita. I'll just run through +it again, Uncle John, to see—oh! oh, yes! +The first part is all just that she wants to see +me, and so on,—her wild way. She has had +the most wonderful summer,—'the Pyrenees, +Margaret! Never before have I seen great +mountains, that scale the heavens, you understand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +The Titans are explained to me. I +have seen, and my soul has arisen to their +height. I could dwell with thee, Marguerite, +on snow-peaks tinged with morning rose, +peaks that touch the stars, that veil themselves +in clouds of evening;' perhaps I'll +skip a little here, Uncle John. Interlaken,—the +Jungfrau,—oh, she <i>is</i> having a glorious +time. Oh! oh, dear me, uncle!"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear? She has not fallen off +the Jungfrau?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that; but she—she is—or she +thinks she is—going to be married."</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort whistled. "To the Matterhorn, +or to some promising young avalanche? +Pray enlighten me, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't laugh, Uncle John, I am afraid +it may be serious. A young Cuban, she says, +a soldier, of course." Margaret ran her eyes +down the page, but found nothing sober +enough to read aloud. "He seems to be a +very wonderful person," she said, timidly. +"Handsome, and a miracle of courage,—and +a military genius; if war should come, Rita +thinks he will be commander-in-chief of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +Cuban army. You don't think it will really +come to war, Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell, Margaret," said Mr. Montfort, +gravely. "Things are looking rather +serious, but no one can see just what is coming +yet. And this seems to be a bona fide engagement? +It isn't little Fernando, is it?"</p> + +<p>"No! oh, no! She says—she is sorry for +Fernando, but he will always be her brother. +This one's name is—let me see. José Maria +Salvador Santillo de Santayana. What a magnificent +name! He had followed her from +Cuba, and he has Uncle Richard's permission +to pay his addresses to Rita, and she says—she +says he is the dream of her life, embodied +in the form of a Greek hero, with the soul of +a poet, and the intellect of a Shakespeare. So +I suppose it is all right, uncle; only, she is +very young."</p> + +<p>"Young! My dear child, she was grown +up while you were still in the nursery," said +Mr. Montfort. "According to Spanish ideas, +it is high time for her to be married, and I +am sure I wish the dear girl all happiness. +We must look over the family trinkets,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +Margaret, and find something for our bird +of Paradise. There are some pretty bits of +jewelry; but that will keep. Now, if you +can stop wondering and romancing for a +moment, May Margaret, I, too, have a letter, +about which I wish to consult you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, uncle, oh, yes! I hope he is good +as well as handsome, don't you? She says +the Santillo nose is the marvel of all Cuba."</p> + +<p>"The Santillo nose may be pickled in brine, +my dear, for ought I care; I really want your +attention, Margaret, and you must come down +from the clouds. Here is Anthony Montfort +writing for his children."</p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>" cried Margaret, waking suddenly +from her dream. "What did you say about +the children, Uncle John? Cousin Anthony +writing for them? What can you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my love, I mean writing for them," +said Mr. Montfort, calmly. "He is, you may +remember, a relation of theirs, a father in +point of fact. He has found an excellent +opening in California, and means to stay +there. He says—I'll read you his letter, or +the part of it that relates to the children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +Hum—'grateful to you'—ha! yes, here it +is. 'Of course I must make some arrangement +about the children. One of the boys +can come to me, but I cannot take care of +both, so Basil will have to go to boarding-school, +and Susan D., too. If you would be +so good as to look up a good school or two, I +should be ever so much obliged. Basil can +take care of himself, you'll only have to consign +and ship him; perhaps you can get some +one to go with the little girl, and see to her +things and all that. It's a shame to call upon +you,'—h'm! so forth! Well, Meg, what do +you say?"</p> + +<p>But Margaret said nothing. She was sitting +with her hands fallen on her lap, gazing +at her uncle with a face of such piteous consternation +that he had much ado to keep his +countenance.</p> + +<p>"Take them away!" she faltered, presently. +"Take away—my children? Oh, Uncle +John!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort looked away, and smoked +awhile in silence, giving the girl time to collect +herself. Margaret struggled with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +tears that wanted to rush to her eyes. She +forced herself to take up the letters that lay +in her lap and fold them methodically. When +he saw that her hands trembled less, Mr. +Montfort said, quietly, "The children have +been a great deal of care to you, Margaret; +but you have grown fond of them, I know, +and so have I. I think a good deal of your +judgment, my dear, young as you are. What +would you like best to have done about the +little people? Take time; take time! Anthony +practically leaves the whole matter in +my hands. In fact, I think he is puzzled, +and feels perhaps that he has not done as well +as he might for them always. Take time, my +child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't need any time, Uncle John!" +cried Margaret, trying to speak steadily. "I—I +didn't realise, I suppose—it has all come +about so gradually—I didn't realise all that +they were to me. To lose Basil and Susan +D.,—I don't see how I can let them go, +uncle; I don't indeed. You won't think me +ungrateful, will you, dear? I was, oh, so +happy, before they came; but now—they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +are so dear, so dear! and—and Susan D. is +used to me, and to have her go to a stranger +who might not understand the poor little +shut-up nature—oh, how can I bear it? how +can I bear it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said Mr. Montfort, comfortably. +"How if you did not have to bear +it?"</p> + +<p>Then, as Margaret raised her startled eyes +to his, he went on, in the kind, steady tone +that always brought quiet and peace with +it.</p> + +<p>"How if we made the present arrangement—part +of it, at least—permanent? +Let Merton go to his father; I should not care +to have the bringing up of Merton. But there +is an excellent school near here, on the island, +to which Basil could go, staying the week +and coming home here for Sunday; and if +little Susan would not be too much care for +you,—she's a dear little girl, once you get +through the prickles,—why, May Margaret, +it seems to me—"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Montfort got no further; for +here was Margaret sobbing on his breast as if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +she were Rita herself, and calling him the +best and dearest and kindest, and telling him +that she was so happy, so happy; and that +was why she was crying, only she could not +stop; and so on and so on, till Uncle John +really thought he should have to send for +Frances. At his suggesting this, however, +Margaret laughed through her tears, and +presently struggled into something like composure.</p> + +<p>"And, after all," said Mr. Montfort, "how +do you know the children will want to stay +with you, you conceited young woman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John! I will teach Susan D. +all I know, and a great deal more, I hope, for +I shall be learning all the time now, if I have +another coming after me. And we will keep +house together, and it will be like the little +sister, like little Penelope, Uncle John. And +then to have Basil coming home every week, +all full of school, and fun, and noise,—why, +how perfectly delightful it will be! +And I will not let them overrun you, dear +uncle; they have been good lately, haven't +they?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have been extremely good, my dear. +All the same, I think you would do well to +interview them on the subject, before you +prepare all your chickens for the market. +See, there are your two coming up the walk +this moment. You might go—"</p> + +<p>But Margaret was already gone. Mr. +Montfort watched her light figure flying +down the walk, and thought she had grown +almost back into a child again, since the +children came. "And yet all a woman," he +said; "all a sweet, wholesome, gentle woman. +See her now with her arms around the child; +the little creature clings to her as if she were +the mother it never knew. Ah! she is telling +them. No need to smother her, children. +I never really meant to separate you; no, +indeed. I only wanted you to find out for +yourselves, as I have found out for myself. +No more solitude at Fernley, please God; +from now on, young faces and hearts, and +sunshine, and a home; the future instead of +the past."</p> + +<p>The good man laid down his cigar, quietly +and carefully, as he did everything, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +opened his arms as the three, Margaret and +her children, came flying towards him; and +they ran into those kind strong arms and +nestled there, and looked into his eyes and +knew that they were at home.</p> + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><div class='bbox'> +<div class='center'><b>THE</b></div> + +<h2>"Queen Hildegarde" Series.</h2> + +<h3>By Laura E. Richards.</h3> + +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>HILDEGARDE'S HARVEST.</b></div> + +<p>The <i>fifth volume</i> of the Hildegarde Series. Illustrated with +eight full-page cuts. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.</p> + +<p>A new volume in the "Hildegarde" series, some of the best +and most deservedly popular books for girls issued in recent +years. This new volume is fully equal to its predecessors in +point of interest, and is sure to renew the popularity of the +entire series.</p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS.</b></div> + +<p>Fourth volume. Illustrated from original designs. Illustrated +by L. J. Bridgman. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>HILDEGARDE'S HOME.</b></div> + +<p>Third volume. Illustrated with original designs by Merrill. +Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY.</b></div> + +<p>Second volume. Illustrated with full-page plates by Copeland. +Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>QUEEN HILDEGARDE.</b></div> + +<p>First volume. Illustrated from original designs by Garrett +(292 pp.). Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.</p> + +<p>"We would like to see the sensible, heroine-loving girl in +her early teens who would not like this book. Not to like it +would simply argue a screw loose somewhere."—<i>Boston Post.</i></p> + +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>THE HILDEGARDE SERIES.</b></div> + +<p>as above. 5 vols., square 16mo, put up in a neat box, $6.25.</p> + +<p><img src="images/asterism.png" width="20" height="14" alt="Asterism" title="Asterism" /> +Next to Miss Alcott's famous "<span class="smcap">Little Women</span>" series +they easily rank, and no books that have appeared in recent +times may be more safely put into the hands of a bright, intelligent +girl than these five "Queen Hildegarde" books.</p> + +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /> + +Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><div class='bbox'> +<h2>Other Books by Laura E. Richards.</h2> + +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='hang1'><b>LOVE AND ROCKS.</b></div> + +<p>Tall 16mo, handsome cover design, etching frontispiece, $1.00.</p> + +<p>A charming story of one of the pleasant islands on the rugged +Maine coast, told in the author's most graceful manner.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE.</b></div> + +<p>Quarto, cloth, gilt top. Illustrated, $1.25.</p> + +<p>A series of papers which has already delighted the many +readers of St. Nicholas, now revised and published in book +form, with many additions. The title most happily introduces +the reader to the charming home life of Dr. Howe and Mrs. +Julia Ward Howe during the childhood of the author, and one +is young again in reading the delightful sketches of happy child +life in this most interesting family.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>GLIMPSES OF THE FRENCH COURT.</b></div> + +<p>Sketches from French History. Handsomely illustrated +with a series of portraits in etching and photogravure. +Square 12mo, cloth, neat cover design, gilt top, $1.50.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='hang1'><b>SAME.</b></div> + +<p><i>Handsomely bound in celluloid, boxed</i>, $2.00.</p> + +<p>The History of France, during the eighteenth century, is a +treasure-house of romantic interest, from which the author has +drawn a series of papers which will appeal to all who care for +the picturesque in history. With true literary touch, she gives +us the story of some of the salient figures of this remarkable +period.</p> +<div class='center'>——————<br /><br /> + +Estes & Lauriat, Publishers, Boston.</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Margaret Montfort, by Laura E. 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