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diff --git a/25446-h/25446-h.htm b/25446-h/25446-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5d6fd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/25446-h/25446-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7219 @@ +<!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 Fernley House, 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;} + .bbox2 {border: solid 2px; 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: 15%; 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 Fernley House, 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: Fernley House + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Release Date: May 12, 2008 [EBook #25446] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERNLEY HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;"> +<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="266" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<h1>FERNLEY HOUSE</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><div class='bbox'><div class='bbox2'> +<h2>BOOKS FOR GIRLS</h2> + +<h2>By Laura E. Richards</h2> +</div><div class='bbox2'> + +<div class='center'><b><big><i>The</i> MARGARET SERIES</big></b></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 26px;"> +<img src="images/acorn.png" width="26" height="25" alt="Acorn" title="Acorn" /> +</div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Margaret Series"> +<tr><td align='left'>Three Margarets</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Margaret Montfort</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Peggy</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Rita</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Fernley House</span></td></tr> +</table></div> +</div> + +<div class='bbox2'> +<div class='center'><b><big><i>The</i> HILDEGARDE SERIES</big></b></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 26px;"> +<img src="images/acorn.png" width="26" height="25" alt="Acorn" title="Acorn" /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Hildegarde Series"> +<tr><td align='left'>Queen Hildegarde</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hildegarde's Holiday</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Hildegarde's Home</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hildegarde's Neighbors</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Hildegarde's Harvest</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +</div><div class='bbox2'> +<div class='center'> +DANA ESTES & COMPANY<br /> +Publishers<br /> +Estes Press, Summer St., Boston<br /></div></div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/gs01.png" width="500" height="347" alt=""HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, WERE ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY."" title=""HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, WERE ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY."" /> +<span class="caption">"HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, WERE ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY."</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>FERNLEY HOUSE</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> + +<div class='center'>AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY," "QUEEN<br /> +HILDEGARDE," "GEOFFREY STRONG," ETC.<br /><br /><br /> + +Illustrated by<br /> +ETHELDRED B. BARRY<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 202px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="202" height="250" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +BOSTON<br /> +DANA ESTES & COMPANY<br /> +PUBLISHERS<br /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<i><small>Copyright, 1901</small></i><br /> +<span class="smcap"><small>By Dana Estes & Company</small></span><br /> +—————<br /> +<i><small>All rights reserved</small></i><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>FERNLEY HOUSE</small><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<b><small>Colonial Press</small></b><br /> +<small>Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.</small><br /> +<small>Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</small><br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents and Book Spine"> +<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/spine01.jpg" width="110" height="600" alt="Book Spine" title="Book Spine" /> +</td><td align='left'><div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='left'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Duet</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">Mrs. Peyton's Companion</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Arrival</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Uncle John's Idea</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Vision</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ali Baba</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">More Arrivals</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">History Repeats Itself</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">About Nothing in Particular</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grace's System</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Mysteries of Fernley</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Egg of Columbus</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In the Twilight</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Fire</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Jewels: and an Awakening</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">For Auld Lang Syne</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In the Garden</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Uncle John's Birthday</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Hugh and Margaret, all unconscious of her scrutiny, were enjoying themselves extremely</span>"</td><td align='left'><a href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Margaret did the honors, still feeling very shy</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">At this moment Polly appeared, red-cheeked and breathless</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She was a slenderer Peggy, with the same blue, honest eyes</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">She looked up, and saw Grace sitting on a broad, low branch</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">On the second landing they paused to salute the old portraits</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">A tall, slender figure half ran, half tottered into the room</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">'I propose . . . the health of the best man . . . that lives upon this earth to-day; . . . the health of my Uncle John!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>FERNLEY HOUSE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>A DUET</h3> + + +<p>"Well, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Not a word to throw at a dog, as Rosalind +says?"</p> + +<p>"You are not a dog, Uncle John. Besides, +you know all about it without my saying a +word, so why should I be silly, and spoil your +comfortable cigar? Dear children! They will +have a delightful time, I hope; and of course it +is perfectly right that they should go to their +father when he wants them; and—the summer +will pass quickly."</p> + +<p>"Very quickly!" Mr. Montfort assented, +watching his smoke rings float upward.</p> + +<p>"And Peggy is coming; and—oh, we shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +be all right, of course we shall; only—we do +miss them, don't we, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I should think we did! A house is a poor +place without children; and we flatter ourselves +that our two—eh, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are the dearest children in the +world," said Margaret with conviction. "There +is no possible doubt about that."</p> + +<p>She sighed, and took up her work; Mr. Montfort +blew smoke rings and watched them melt +into the air. There was an interval of sympathetic +silence.</p> + +<p>The children, Basil and Susan D., Margaret's +cousins, had hardly been gone two hours, yet the +time seemed already long to Margaret Montfort. +Fernley House, which only this morning had +been so running over with joy and sunlight, and +happy noise and bustle, seemed suddenly to have +become a great empty barrack, full of nothing +but silence. Margaret, after putting away, sadly +enough, the things that the children had left +about, had been glad to join her uncle on the +pleasant back verandah that overlooked the +garden.</p> + +<p>Fernley was in the full glory of early summer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +The leaves were still young, and too soft to +rustle in the gently moving air; the laburnums +and honey-locusts were in blossom, and the +bees came and went, heavy-laden. The sombre, +trailing branches of the great Norway spruces +touched the smooth green turf, starred here and +there with English daisies. Farther back, the +tulip-trees towered stately, and the elm branches +swept the crest of the tall box hedges.</p> + +<p>Margaret's eyes kept wandering from her +work. How could she stitch, when things were +looking like this? There was the oriole, swinging +on the bough beside his nest, pouring out +his song, "Joy! joy! joy!" The eggs might +be hatched to-day. Basil had begged her to +promise that she would let neither cat nor +squirrel meddle with the young birds. What +should she do, if she saw a cat up there, forty +feet from the ground? Dear Basil! he never +could understand why she could not climb trees +as well as he and Susan D. Dear Basil! dearest +of boys! how nice he looked in his new blue +suit; and who would mend the first "barndoor" +that he tore in jacket or trousers?</p> + +<p>And little Susan D.! the warm clasp of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +her arms seemed still about Margaret's neck, +in that last strangling hug of parting. She +had grown so dear, the little silent child! "I +will be good," she whispered. "Cousin Margaret, +I will try not to die without you, and I +will remember the things you told me about +papa; but don't make me stay very long, because +I haven't got enough goodness to last very +long, you know I haven't."</p> + +<p>Margaret was roused from her reverie by her +uncle's voice.</p> + +<p>"When did you say Peggy was coming, my +dear?"</p> + +<p>"Next week, Uncle John. School closes on +the eighteenth. Dear little Peggy! think of +her being a senior! it seems hardly possible. +She is afraid I shall tell her to put her hair up; +I certainly shall not, at least while she is +here. I am sure you prefer the pigtail, don't +you, Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! oh, yes!" said Mr. Montfort, abstractedly. +"Pigtail—yes, by all means. And how +will you and Peggy amuse yourselves, my dear? +No Rita this summer to electrify us all. You +will not find it dull?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dull, Uncle John? how could Fernley possibly +be dull? Why, Peggy and I are going to +be as happy as possible. I have all kinds of +plans made. You see, it is time Peggy was +learning something about housekeeping and +that sort of thing, and I thought this summer +would be the very best time to show her a little. +Of course, when she is at home, she wants to be +doing twenty thousand things on the farm, just +as she always has done, and the time goes so +quickly, she has not begun to think yet about +the indoor things; so I am going to be the +Humdrum-major, Uncle, and give her some lessons; +if you approve, that is."</p> + +<p>"Highly, my dear, highly. Every woman +should be able to take care of her own house, +and the only way for her to learn is to begin +upon some one else's. I should think Peggy +might make a vigorous little housekeeper, if +a chaotic one. Don't let her loose in the +library, Margaret, that is my only prayer."</p> + +<p>"Uncle John, I really do believe that you +think housekeeping consists entirely in dusting +and setting things to wrongs, as you call it."</p> + +<p>"Well, my love, I confess that has always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +seemed to me a prime element in the art. But +I also confess my ignorance, and the depth and +darkness thereof. Am I humble enough? Now +I must go and take the puppies for an airing. +Till dinner-time, May Margaret!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort strolled away, and Margaret +bent with renewed energy over her work, giving +herself a little shake as she did so. Her uncle's +words still sounded in her ears: "You will not +find it dull?" She had answered out of the +fulness of her heart, thinking it impossible that +dulness should come where Uncle John was, +especially as he happened to be at Fernley +House, the most enchanting place in the world. +Yet—and yet—it was going to be very, very +different, of course, from the life of the past +year, so filled full and running over with delight. +It was not only that she missed the +children; it was that in the care of them, the +watching over the growing bodies and the eager +minds, she was learning so much herself, feeling +the world grow, almost hourly, bigger and +brighter and sweeter. The mother-nature was +strong in Margaret Montfort, and the children +were bringing out all that was best and strongest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +in her. Well, she must do without that +now for awhile; and there was no doubt that +the prospect seemed a little flat, even with +Peggy to brighten it. Dear Peggy! Margaret +loved her fondly; but she was so grown up +now, so strong herself, so helpful and self-reliant, +that there was no question of taking care +of her any more. "Why, she knows twenty +times as much as I do," said Margaret, "about +most things, except history. I don't suppose +she will ever remember the difference between +Mary Stuart and Mary Tudor. But, foolish +creature," cried Margaret to herself, "what +have you just been saying to Uncle John? +Here is all the world of housekeeping, about +which Peggy knows little or nothing, and +which, thanks to Elizabeth and Frances, you +do begin to understand a little. Is it a small +thing, I ask you, to teach the qualities and fine +shades of damask, and the high-lights of huckaback? +or the different cuts of meat, and when +what is in season? I am ashamed of you, Margaret +Montfort! And then there are the puppies, +too! Don't let me hear another word of dulness +from you, miss, do you hear? Perhaps you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +would like to be weaving cotton in a factory +this heavenly day, or selling yards of hot stuffs +in a shop? Go away!" and Margaret shook +her head severely, and was surprised at herself.</p> + +<p>The puppies were two fine young setters, Nip +and Tuck by name, which the wise uncle had +bought on purpose to soften the blow of the +parting with the children. Margaret had never +known dogs before, and though Messrs. Nip and +Tuck were being strictly trained, and had to +spend much of their time in the stable-yard, +she still had many a pleasant half-hour with +them, when her uncle took them for a run over +hill and dale, or gave them a lesson in the garden. +Her one anxiety was lest they should +meet the Queen of Sheba, her great Angora cat, +and there should be trouble; for the Queen was +a person of decided temper. Margaret had +taken infinite pains, ever since the arrival of +the puppies, to keep them out of one another's +sight; but Mr. Montfort warned her that she +was merely putting off the inevitable, and that +the day must come when cat and dogs should +meet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>It seemed a little hard that this meeting must +take place when the master was not present; +but the finger of Fate pointed, and at this very +moment, while Margaret was sitting with her +peaceful thoughts, Michael, the stable-boy, +chanced to drop the leash in which he was leading +the puppies to their master. Three minutes +later, Nip and Tuck were careering wildly +around Margaret, leaping on her with frantic +caresses, and talking both at once, and very +loud, as dear dogs will sometimes do.</p> + +<p>"Down, Nip!" cried Margaret. "Tucky, +do behave yourself. Now, boys, however did +you get away? Charge, do, like dear boys, and +wait for the master; he will be here in a minute."</p> + +<p>Nip and Tuck explained breathlessly that +they had just got out by the luckiest chance in +the world, that they loved her to distraction, +and that, upon the whole, they preferred her +society to that of any one else in the world, if +only she would let them lick her nose. This +Margaret firmly refused to do, and they lay +down panting for a moment, but only for a +moment. Again the finger of Fate pointed;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +and so it came to pass that as Mr. Montfort +came round one corner in search of his run-aways, +the Queen of Sheba came round the +other. There seemed but one white flash as +the two puppies, recognizing their destiny on +the instant, flew to meet it, yelling like demons +of the pit.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John!" cried Margaret, starting +up in distress. "My poor Queen! my poor +Sheba! they will—"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't worry, Margaret," said Mr. +Montfort. "Sheba can take care of herself, if +I am not greatly mistaken."</p> + +<p>The great cat stiffened herself into a bristling +bow, and waited the charge with gleaming +eyes. The dogs' frenzied rush carried them +within a foot of her whiskers, and there they +stopped. This was not what they had looked +for. They had seen cats before, and had chased +them, with infinite joy; their mother had +taught them that cats were made to be chased, +with a special eye to the healthful amusement +of good little dogs. But this furry, glaring +creature, radiating power and menace,—could +this be a cat?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nip and Tuck put their heads on one side +and considered. The Queen of Sheba advanced +one step, slowly; the puppies retired, too, and +sat down, wagging their tails. Perhaps, after +all, it was a kind of dog; their minds were +cheerfully open to new impressions, and they +were full of good will toward all creation. +Perceiving their innocence, the Queen of Sheba, +who had seen many generations of puppies, +lowered her warlike arch, and, sitting down +opposite them, proceeded to wash herself elaborately. +Nip and Tuck looked on with open-mouthed +admiration. Presently Tuck, who was +a bold dog, gave a short bark of decision, and, +stepping forward, began with infinite politeness +to assist in the washing. Sheba received the +attention with regal condescension. Five minutes +later, all three walked off together, rubbing +sides cordially, and presumably in quest of +rats.</p> + +<p>Margaret drew a long breath. "Did you ever +see anything like that?" she cried. "Look, +Uncle John; they are talking to one another; +you can almost hear the words. Isn't it wonderful?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very pretty," said Mr. Montfort. "Now +they'll be friends for life, you'll see. Sheba +will be of great assistance in their education. +It takes an intelligent cat to understand puppies, +and Sheba is a remarkably intelligent cat. +Well, May Margaret, and now shall we take +our four-legged children for a walk?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John, I was so afraid you were +not going to ask me! Will you wait just half +a minute while I get my hat? and on the way +back I will stop and see Mrs. Peyton. I have +not been there since the dogs came or the children +went, and I ought to be ashamed."</p> + +<p>Margaret ran up-stairs lightly, saying to herself +as she ran, "Dull, with that man? and +Peggy and the puppies beside? Margaret Montfort, +I <i>am</i> ashamed of you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>MRS. PEYTON'S COMPANION</h3> + + +<p>"Dear me!" said Mrs. Peyton. "Here is +Patience, down off her monument, come all +this way to smile at Grief! I am Grief, my +dear; allow me to introduce myself. Well, +Margaret, and how do you get on without +your brats—I beg pardon! I mean your +pets?"</p> + +<p>"As well as could be expected," said Margaret, +lightly, as she stooped to kiss the ivory +forehead. Mrs. Peyton was charming, but one +did not confide one's troubles to her. "We are +behaving beautifully, Mrs. Peyton. Not only +have we dried our tears and hung our pocket-handkerchiefs +out to dry, but we have set up +some new pets already."</p> + +<p>"Not more children? Not another set of 'The +Orphans of Fernley,' bound in blue denim? That +would be unendurable."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; four-legged pets this time. We have +two dogs, Mrs. Peyton; beautiful Gordon setters. +I hope you are fond of dogs."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—dogs? Yes, I like dogs. As a rule I +like them better than two-legged torments. You +are a two-legged torment, Margaret, when you +move about the room in that exasperatingly light-footed +manner. I don't suppose you actually do +it to make me feel my helplessness, but it has +that effect. Do sit down! you are not a bird. +And don't, for pity's sake, look patient! If there +is one thing I cannot abide, it is to see people +look patient when I insult them. If I had only +known—but John Montfort always did like +to thwart me, it's his nature—if I had only +known, I say, that those brats of yours were +going away, I need not have set up a menagerie +of my own. It's too late now, the creature's +coming."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mrs. Peyton?" asked +Margaret, always prepared for any whim of her +whimsical neighbor. "Are you setting up a +dog too?"</p> + +<p>"No! nothing half so comfortable as a dog. +A fox, or wolf, or hyena, or something of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +kind. Don't be stupid, Margaret; I am not up +to explanations to-day. A companion, simpleton! +A Miss Fox or Miss Wolfe, I can't remember +which. I don't <i>think</i> it was Miss Hyena, +but it might be. It's an unusual name, but she +is recommended as an unusual person."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Peyton! you said you never would try +it again. And you know I am always ready to +come and read to you."</p> + +<p>"I know you are a little Fra Angelico angel, +with your halo laid in your top bureau drawer +among your collars, for fear people should see +it; but I have a little scrap of conscience about +me somewhere,—not much, only about a saltspoonful,—and +if you came every day it would +get up and worry me, and I can't be worried. +Besides, the doctor ordered it, positively."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Flower? has he been out again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he came on Monday. I thought I was +going to die, and wanted him to see how prettily +I should do it. I'll never send for him again; +he always tells me to get up and do things. +Tiresome man! I told him I was perfectly exhausted +by simply listening to him for half an +hour. He replied by ordering this Miss Fox, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +whoever she is. I am to try her for a month; +I sha'n't probably keep her a week."</p> + +<p>"A nurse?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a trained nurse. She means to be +one, goes to the hospital in the autumn. He +thinks she has a gift, or something. I detest +people with a gift. Probably she has a squint, +too. You will have to receive her when she +comes, Margaret, and take the edge off her. I +fancy her unendurable, but I promised to try; +I really must be going to die, I am growing so +amiable. Which of my gems do you want? I +am going to make my will this time. You +needn't laugh, Margaret Montfort."</p> + +<p>"I was laughing at your dying of amiability, +Mrs. Peyton!" said Margaret. "When is this +young lady—I suppose she is young, if she is +going to study nursing—when is she coming?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, I believe; or is it to-day? +where is the note? Tuesday! Is this Tuesday? +It cannot be."</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is Tuesday, and the three o'clock +train—I suppose that is the train she will come +by—must be in by this time. Hark! there are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +wheels this moment. Can she be coming now, +Mrs. Peyton?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, it would be exactly like the conception +I have formed of her. Go down and +see her, will you, Margaret? Tell her I have a +headache, or Asiatic cholera, or anything you +like. I cannot possibly see her to-day. Her +name is Fox—or Wolfe, I can't remember +which. Bless you, child! you save my life. +Show her the Calico Room. Hand me the amethyst +rope before you go; I must compose my +nerves."</p> + +<p>With a smile and a sigh, Margaret ran down-stairs, +and met the newcomer on the doorstep. +A tall, pale, grave-looking girl, with deep-set +blue eyes, and smooth bands of brown hair—a +rather remarkable-looking person, Margaret +thought.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fox?" she said, hurriedly, holding out +her hand. "Oh, how do you do? Pray come +in. Mrs. Peyton asked me to receive you,—I +am a friend and neighbor,—and show you your +room and make you comfortable. She has a +bad headache, and does not feel able to welcome +you herself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>She led the way into the dining-room, and +rang the bell. "You will have lunch?" she +said, "or would you rather have tea?"</p> + +<p>"Tea, please," said the stranger; and her +voice had a deep, musical note, that fell pleasantly +on Margaret's ear.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry Mrs. Peyton is unable to see me. +Is it a real headache, or doesn't she want +to?"</p> + +<p>Margaret colored and hesitated. The blue +eyes looked straight into hers with a compelling +gaze; a gleam of comprehension seemed to lurk +in their depths. Margaret was absolutely truthful, +and, consequently, was sometimes at a loss +when speaking of her invalid friend.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Flower told me somewhat about +her," Miss Fox went on. "He thinks—he +wants me to rouse her to effort."</p> + +<p>She spoke so quietly, her whole air was one +of such calm and repose, that Margaret looked +at her wonderingly.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 274px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.png" width="274" height="400" alt=""MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY."" title=""MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY."" /> +<span class="caption">"MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY."</span> +</div> + +<p>"If Doctor Flower has explained the case to +you," she said, at last, "you probably know +more about it than I do. Mrs. Peyton often +seems to suffer a great deal. She is fanciful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +too, no doubt, at times; I suppose most invalids are."</p> + +<p>"I have just been staying with a woman who +had had both feet cut off by a train," said Miss +Fox, tranquilly. "She was not fanciful."</p> + +<p>It was a relief when the tea came. Margaret +did the honors, still feeling very shy, she could +not tell why, before this grave person, who +could not be more than a year or two older +than herself.</p> + +<p>"Have you come far to-day, Miss Fox?" she +asked, for the sake of saying something. The +stranger put her head on one side, and gave her +a quaint look. "Any addition to one's personal +menagerie is always interesting," she said; "but +one has one's favorites in the Zoo. If it is not +taking a liberty—why Fox?"</p> + +<p>Margaret started, and blushed violently. "I +<i>beg</i> your pardon," she said. "Mrs. Peyton was +not sure—she could not remember—is it Miss +Wolfe, then? I hope you will forgive me, Miss +Wolfe!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't," said Miss Wolfe. She smiled +for the first time, and Margaret thought she +had never seen so sweet a smile. "It is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +your fault that I am philologically quadruped, +surely. So long as I am not called Zebra, I +really don't mind. I always associate Zebra +with Zany, don't you know? they were in my +Alphabet together. But you were saying something +which I was rude enough to interrupt."</p> + +<p>"I only asked if you had come far."</p> + +<p>"Not very far, if you put it in miles; only +from New York; if you mean by impressions, a +thousand leagues. It is at least that from that +maelstrom to this quiet green place. How +should one have nerves in a place like this? +To sit here in peace and turn slowly into a +lettuce—that would be the natural thing; but +life is not natural, if you have observed."</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed. "Mrs. Peyton is certainly +not in the least like a lettuce; I don't know +whether you see any signs of the change in me; +I have only been here two years, though."</p> + +<p>Miss Wolfe surveyed her critically. "N—no!" +she said, slowly. "I see nothing indicating +lettuce—as yet. You are cool and green—no +offence, I hope! I pay you one of the +highest compliments I know of when I call you +green; it is the color of rest and harmony;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +cool and green enough, and pleasantly wavy in +your lines, but you have too much expression as +yet, far too much. Placidity—absence of emotion—that +is what superinduces the lettuce +habit." She waved her hand gracefully, and +seemed to fall into a reverie. Margaret surveyed +her in growing wonder.</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Peyton's bell rang +violently; and presently a maid appeared to +say that her mistress was feeling better, and +would see the lady now. Miss Wolfe rose and +glanced significantly at Margaret. "Curiosity +overcomes distaste!" she said. "Are you +coming?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Margaret. "I think I'd better +not. I will slip away quietly. But I shall see +you soon again. I will run over this evening, +perhaps; and you must come over to Fernley +whenever Mrs. Peyton can spare you. It is +very near, just across the park."</p> + +<p>"Fernley!" repeated Miss Wolfe, pausing +and looking at Margaret with an altered expression.</p> + +<p>"Fernley House, Mr. Montfort's place. That +is where I live. Why—I have never introduced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +myself all this time, have I? I am Mr. +Montfort's niece; my name is Montfort, too, +Margaret Montfort."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my prophetic soul! my aunt!" exclaimed +Miss Wolfe. "I beg your pardon; +nothing of the sort. I am somewhat mad at +times. Good morning, Miss Montfort; I am +glad to know you. To be continued in our +next!"</p> + +<p>She nodded, kissed her hand gravely to +Margaret, and turning, followed the maid up-stairs.</p> + +<p>Margaret looked after her for a moment in +amazement. "What a <i>very</i> extraordinary girl!" +she said. "She seemed to know my name. I +wonder how."</p> + +<p>She paused, shook her head, then went soberly +home across the park, wondering how the new +venture would turn out.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>AN ARRIVAL</h3> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 279px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.png" width="279" height="400" alt=""AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED RED-CHEEKED AND BREATHLESS."" title=""AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED RED-CHEEKED AND BREATHLESS."" /> +<span class="caption">"AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED RED-CHEEKED AND BREATHLESS."</span> +</div> +<p>"What can the dogs be barking at, Elizabeth?" +asked Margaret, looking up from the +table-cloth she was examining. "I'm afraid +they have got a squirrel again."</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard the sound of wheels, +Miss," said the sedate Elizabeth, who had just +entered, her arms full of shining damask. +"Just as I was coming up the stairs, Miss +Margaret. I told Polly run and see who it +was, and send 'em away if they was a tramp. +It do be mostly tramps, these days; Frances +says she'll poison the next one, Miss, but she +always feeds 'em so as they go off and send all +their friends."</p> + +<p>At this moment Polly appeared, red-cheeked +and breathless. A gentleman was below, asking +for Mr. Montfort, and she couldn't find Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +Montfort nowhere in the house; so then he said +could he see Miss Margaret?</p> + +<p>"Is it any one I know, Polly?" asked Margaret.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Miss Marget; I niver see +him. A lame gentleman with a crutch; he +looks just lovely!" added Polly, with effusion.</p> + +<p>"Miss Margaret didn't ask you how he looked, +Polly!" said Elizabeth, severely. "You let +your tongue run away with you."</p> + +<p>"Tell him I will be down directly, Polly," +said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Margaret, do you think you'd +better?" asked Elizabeth. "If it's not a +tramp—"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and he's no tramp!" broke in Polly, +indignantly. "He's a gentleman, if ever I see +one, Miss Margaret; and him in lovely white +clothes and all, just like young Mr. Pennyfeather +as was here last year."</p> + +<p>"Polly, will you learn to speak when you are +spoken to, and not interrupt your elders?" demanded +Elizabeth. "If he's not a tramp, I +was saying, Miss Margaret, he's likely an agent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +of some kind, and why should you be annoyed, +with all the linen to go over? He can call +again, most likely."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth spoke with some feeling under her +grave and restrained words. The examination +of the house-linen was to her mind the most +important event of the week, and already they +had been disturbed once by a sudden incursion +of the dogs, bringing a dead squirrel.</p> + +<p>"No, Elizabeth," said Margaret, "I must go +down. Tell the gentleman I will be down directly, +Polly; show him into the library, please. +Dear Elizabeth, you can finish the table-cloths +just as well without me. You always did it +before I came."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Miss," said Elizabeth, with +patient resignation; "you'll find me in the +sewing-room, Miss, whenever you are ready for +me. It's best that you should go over the +things yourself, and then you will be satisfied, +and no mistakes made."</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded, with a little inward sigh +over the rigidity of Elizabeth's ideal of a perfect +housekeeper; patted her hair hurriedly to make +sure that it was neat, confirmed the pat by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +glance in the mirror, and went quickly down-stairs.</p> + +<p>A tall, slender figure rose, leaning on a stick, +as she entered the library. "What a sad face!" +was Margaret's first thought; but, when the +stranger smiled, it changed to "What a beautiful +one!"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Margaret?" said the young man, +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I am Margaret," said the girl. "But +who—oh! are you—can it be Peggy's Hugh? +It is, I see. Oh, how do you do, Cousin? I am +so very, very glad to see you."</p> + +<p>They shook hands cordially, scanning each +other with earnest and friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>"I should have known you, of course, from +your picture, if not from Peggy's ardent descriptions," +said Hugh Montfort.</p> + +<p>"And I ought to have known you, surely," +cried Margaret; "only, not knowing you were +in this part of the country, you see—"</p> + +<p>"Uncle John did not get my letter? It +ought to have reached him some days ago. I +was coming on to Cambridge, and wrote as soon +as I started. No wonder you were surprised,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +being hailed as cousin by an unheralded vagabond +with a stick."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why do you stand?" cried Margaret. +"Sit down, Cousin Hugh; to think of its being +really you; I have wanted to see and know you +ever since—oh, for ever so long. Hark! there +comes Uncle John now. How delighted he +will be!"</p> + +<p>"Margaret, my dear!" called Mr. Montfort +from the hall. "I have just had a letter—most +surprising thing—from—hallo! what's +all this? Hugh, my dear fellow, I'm delighted +to see you. Got here before your letter, eh? +How did that happen? Never mind, so long +as you are here now. Well, well, well! sit +down here, and let me look at you. This is a +pleasure indeed. Your father's eyes; I should +know them in a Chinaman; not that you look +like a Chinaman. How are they all at home? +How's your father? When did you leave +home? Have you had anything to eat? What +would you like? Margaret, my dear, get Hugh +something to eat, he's probably starved."</p> + +<p>Hugh laughingly disclaimed starvation, and +begged to wait till their tea-time. "I am not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +hungry, truly I am not," he said. "There is +so much to say, too, isn't there, Uncle John? +Father is very well and hearty. I have a pipe +for you in my bag. I brought a bag with me; +do you suppose you could put me up for a few +days, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>Reassured by Mr. Montfort's earnest assurance +that he should keep him all summer, Hugh +leaned back in his chair, and looked about him +with eager eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is the library!" he said. "Uncle John, +ever since I learned to read, one of my dreams +has been to see this room. Father has always +told us about it, and where his favorite books +were, and where you all used to sit when you +came here to read."</p> + +<p>He rose and, crossing the room, took a book +from a shelf without a moment's hesitation. +"Here is the 'Morte d'Arthur,'" he said; "you +see I knew where to find it. And Father used +to sit on top of that stepladder."</p> + +<p>"So he did!" cried Mr. Montfort, delighted. +"I can see him now, with one leg curled under +him, eating apples and shouting about Lancelot +and Tristram."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you sat in the great copper coal-hod—ah! +there it is!—and read Froissart, the great +folio with the colored prints. I see it, just in the +place father described."</p> + +<p>"Uncle John," said Margaret, reproachfully, +"you never told me that you sat in the coal-scuttle. +I know papa's perch, the mantel-piece, +because he could get at the little Shakespeares +from there."</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort laughed.</p> + +<p>"Leave me some remnant of dignity, Meg," +he said. "How can you expect me to confess +that I sat in the coal-scuttle? Have you no reverence +for gray hairs?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a very great deal, dear Uncle; but there +were no gray hairs in the coal-scuttle days; and +my only regret about you is the not having +known you when you were a boy."</p> + +<p>"Horrid monkey, I have been given to understand," +said her uncle, lightly. "Go on, Hugh; +tell us some more of the things that Jim—your +father—remembers. Old Jim! it's a great +shame that he never comes to look up the old +place himself."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, sir!" said Hugh. "I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +always thought so, and now that I see the place—oh, +I shall send him, that's all, as soon as +ever I get home. There are the Indian clubs; +oh, the carved one—is it true that that was +given to Grandfather Montfort by a Fiji chief, +or was the Pater fooling us? He sometimes +makes up things, he acknowledges, just for the +fun of it."</p> + +<p>"True enough, I believe!" said Mr. Montfort, +taking down the great club, covered from end +to end with strange and delicate carving.</p> + +<p>"Did he ever tell you how near he came to +breaking my head with this club? He may have +forgotten; I have not. We used to keep it in +our room, the great nursery up-stairs, Margaret; +you must show that to Hugh by and by. I +woke up one night, and was afraid the crow that +I was taming in the back garden might be +hungry. I got out of the window and shinned +down the spout. The crow was all right; but +when I came back, Jim woke up, and took me +for a burglar, and went for me with the club, +thinking it the chance of his life. I was only +half-way through the bars when he caught me a +crack—I can hear my skull rattle with it now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John! and you held on?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I held on; it would have been +rather unfortunate for me to let go at the +moment. I sung out, of course; and when I got +through I fell upon my friend James, and Roger +had to wake up and come and drag us from +under the bed before he could separate us. +Sweet boys! do you and your brothers indulge +in these little endearments, Hugh? Jim was a +glorious fighter."</p> + +<p>Hugh laughed. "Jim and George used to +have pretty lively scraps sometimes," he said. +"It wasn't so much in my line, but I took it out +in airs, I fancy. The poor fellows couldn't +punch my head, and it must have been hard +lines for them sometimes. As for Max and +Peter, they are twins, you know. I doubt if +either of them knows exactly which is himself +and which is the other, so they don't have real +scraps, just puppy-play, rolling over and over +and pounding each other."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what good times they would have with +Basil and Susan D.!" cried Margaret. "What +a pity they cannot know one another, all these +dear boys!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So it is! so it is!" said Mr. Montfort, +heartily. "We must bring it about, one of +these days; we must surely bring it about. +Fond of dogs, Hugh? I've got a pair of nice +puppies here; like to go and see them before +tea, or shall Margaret show you your room?"</p> + +<p>Hugh elected in favor of the puppies, and +uncle and nephew walked off together, well +content. Margaret looked after them, thinking +what a noble pair they made. Hugh walked +lame, to be sure, yet not ungracefully, she +thought; and though slender, still his shoulders +were square and manly.</p> + +<p>Then her thoughts turned to matters of practical +hospitality, and she sped to the kitchen, +to tell the good news to Frances.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Frances, Mr. Hugh has come, my Uncle +Jim's son; Miss Peggy's brother, Frances! He +has come all the way from Ohio, and I want +you to give him the very best supper that ever +was, please!"</p> + +<p>Now Frances had that moment discovered +that her best porcelain saucepan was cracked; +she therefore answered with some asperity. +"Indeed, then, Miss Margaret, what is good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +enough for Mr. Montfort must be good enough +for his nephew or any other young gentleman. +My supper is all planned, and I can't be fashed +with new things at this time of day."</p> + +<p>"Now, Frances, don't be cross, that's a dear! +I want you to see Mr. Hugh. Look, there he is +this minute, crossing the green with Uncle John."</p> + +<p>Frances looked; looked again, long and earnestly; +then straightway she fell into a great +bustle. "Dear me, Miss Margaret, run away +now, that's a good young lady. How can I be +doing, and you all about the kitchen like a ball +of string? He's lame, the beautiful young +gentleman; you never told me he was lame. I +did think as how we might be doing with the +cold fowl, and French fried potatoes and muffins, +but that's nothing to show the heart. Run +away now, Miss, and if you was going up-stairs, +be so good as send me Polly. She's idling her +time away, I'll be bound, and not a soul to +help me with my salad and croquettes. Dear! +dear! I be pestered out of my life, mostly."</p> + +<p>"Don't kill us, Frances!" cried Margaret, as +she ran away, laughing. "I really think the +cold fowl will be quite enough."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>Frances deigned no reply; and Margaret +hastened up-stairs, to tell the good news to +Elizabeth. Elizabeth was in the sewing-room, +waiting, with plaintive dignity, till Margaret +should please to go over the rest of the table-cloths; +but at the tidings of the advent of a +dear and honored guest, she dropped thimble +and scissors, and rose hastily, declaring that the +Blue Room must be cleaned instantly, and put +in order for Mr. Montfort's nephew.</p> + +<p>"But you swept it yesterday, Elizabeth, and +I dusted all the ornaments myself, and put +them back in place. It only needs a few fresh +flowers, I am sure," said Margaret.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth turned on her a face of affectionate +reproach. "Miss Margaret, you don't mean +that. Mr. Montfort's own nephew, and the +room not touched to-day! I'll go this minute +and see to it. But if you would pick out the +towels you think he would like best, Miss, +please; gentlemen do be that fussy about +towels, as there's no pleasing some of them, +though being Mr. Montfort's nephew, likely he'll +be different. Give him the finest huckaback, +and Mr. Montfort is easy satisfied, so long as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +there's no fringes. He never could abide fringe +to his towels, and there's no person with sense +as wouldn't agree with him. And if you +would see to the bureau-scarf and the flowers, +Miss Margaret—there! she's gone, and not a +word about what table-napkins I <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'be'">am</ins> to use! I +like to see them young, so I do, but they're +terrible heedless. I expect I'd best put the +finest out, for Mr. Montfort's nephew."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>UNCLE JOHN'S IDEA</h3> + + +<p>"Margaret, I have an idea!"</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, Uncle John; your ideas are +always pleasant ones, especially when they +make your eyes twinkle. Is this about more +dogs?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, child. Do you think I have no +soul except for dogs? I was thinking—why, +you see,—this is a delightful fellow, this nephew +of mine."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he, Uncle? I never saw a more interesting +person, I think. How well he talks, and +how much he knows!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and right-minded, too; singularly right-minded. +Jim has done well, certainly, by his +children, and is very fortunate in them. H'm! +yes. Who would have thought, thirty years +ago, that things would have turned out in this +way? Old Jim!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here Mr. Montfort fell into a brown study, +and only roused himself after some time, to ask +Margaret what were her orders for the day.</p> + +<p>"Why, Uncle John! And you have never +told me your idea."</p> + +<p>"Bless me! so I haven't. Age, my dear +child, age! Such a fine idea as it is, too. +Listen, then! as I was saying, Hugh Montfort +is a charming fellow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"And Peggy Montfort is a charming girl."</p> + +<p>"Certainly she is. Dear Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"We may not unreasonably infer, therefore, +that other members of the family may be charming +also. Now, my idea is this. Peggy is not +going home this summer; why would it not be +a good plan to send for her nearest sister—Jean, +isn't she?—to come here and meet her +brother and sister, and all have a good time +together? What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle John! I say that you are the very +cleverest person in the world, as well as the +dearest."</p> + +<p>"A little house-party, you see," Mr. Montfort +went on, beaming with pleasure at the delight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +that shone in Margaret's face. "And—we +shall want another lad, it seems to me, possibly +two lads. Why not ask young Merryweather +and his brother for a couple of weeks? You +liked the young fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, Uncle John!" Margaret suddenly +became interested in tying up the Crimson +Rambler that was straying over the verandah-rail. +"Yes, indeed, I thought him very nice."</p> + +<p>"And you like the idea? You don't think +it would make too much work, too much responsibility, +my dear little niece?"</p> + +<p>Margaret was still busy with the rose, which +proved quite refractory, but it was clear that +she thought nothing of the sort. It would be +altogether delightful, she said; and as for care—why, +she had been longing for something to +take her mind off missing the children, and—</p> + +<p>"And to see Jean, too!" she cried, suddenly +emerging from the rose-vine, with an unusual +flush on her delicate cheek, and her gray eyes +shining; "I have always wanted so to know +the other Peggypods, as you call them, Uncle +John; and now to have Hugh here, and Jean +coming—oh, Uncle John, you are <i>so</i> dear!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then that is all right," said Uncle John; +"and I will go and telegraph to old Jim and +tell him to send the little girl along. Shall we +tell Peggy, or leave it for a surprise, eh? What +do you say?"</p> + +<p>"The surprise, by all means; Peggy loves a +surprise, you know. Oh, how can I wait a +whole week to see her?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort looked with pleasure at Margaret's +sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. He +had hit on the right thing, evidently. Young +people wanted young people; didn't he remember +well enough—here he fell into a muse +again, and said "Rose!" to himself two or +three times. Perhaps he was thinking of the +Crimson Rambler.</p> + +<p>"Now, about rooms!" he said, waking up +after a few minutes. "And we must get more +help, Margaret. Frances—"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell Elizabeth first, I think," said Margaret, +thoughtfully. "She has a way of breaking things +gradually to Frances, and taking the +edge off them; she is really very clever about +it."</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth is a treasure," said Mr. Montfort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +"So is Frances, of course, a treasure—only +with dragon attachment."</p> + +<p>"And as for the room, Uncle John—let me +see! Peggy's own room is big enough for her +and Jean, and I am quite sure they would like +to be together. Then there are the two little +east rooms that are very pleasant—or we +could give the two Mr. Merryweathers the big +nursery."</p> + +<p>"That's it!" said Mr. Montfort, decidedly. +"Boys like the nursery; it was made for boys. +Nothing breakable in it except the crockery, +and plenty of room for skylarking. Yes, my +dear, get the nursery ready for them—if they +come!" he added. "We are counting our +chickens in fine style, Margaret. Suppose we +find that Jean is in San Francisco and the +Merryweathers in Alaska."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they won't be!" cried Margaret. +"They wouldn't have the heart to spoil our +party. I have read about house-parties all my +life, and to think that I am going to have one! +Why, it is a fairy tale, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"So it is, my dear; so it is. You are the +fairy princess, and I am the old magician—or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +the bear, if you like better, that used to be a +prince when he was young."</p> + +<p>"The king that used to be a bear would be +more like it," said Margaret, gaily. "How +about John Strong, Mr. Montfort?"</p> + +<p>"John Strong was a useful fellow!" said her +uncle, gravely. "I had a regard for John; he +is getting lazy now, and rheumatic besides, and +he neglects his roses shamefully, but there are +still points about John. Bring me my old hat, +and the pruning-shears, and you shall see him +in the flesh, Miss Margaret."</p> + +<p>Margaret enjoyed nothing more than what +she called a "rose-potter" with her uncle. He +was never weary of tending his favorite flowers, +and handled and spoke of them as if they were +real persons. Coming now to join him, with +the great shears, and the faithful old straw hat +in which, as John Strong the gardener, she had +first seen the beloved uncle, she found him +bending over a beautiful "La France" with +anxious looks.</p> + +<p>"My dear, this lovely person is not looking +well to-day. Something is wrong with her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle, I am sorry. She had her bath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +last night, I know, for I gave it to her myself. +What do you think is the matter? To me, she +looks as silvery-lovely as usual; but you have a +special pair of eyes, I know, for roses."</p> + +<p>"I fear—I think—ah! here he is, the +beast! Yes, Margaret; a caterpillar, curled +up—see him! Right in the heart of this +exquisite bud. No wonder the whole plant +has sickened; she is very sensitive, La France. +There, Madame, he is gone. Now, a little +shower of quassia, just to freshen you up; eh? +See, Margaret, how gratefully the beautiful creature +responds. Now, Jack here,"—he passed +on to a Jacqueminot rose, covered with splendid +crimson blossoms,—"Jack is thick-skinned, +quite a rhinoceros by contrast with La France +or the Bride. Here are—one—two—five—my +patience! here are seven aphides on his +poor leaves, and yet he has not curled up so +much as the edge of one. Take him for all in +all, Jack is as good a fellow as I know. Responsive, +cordial, ready for anything—not +expecting to have the whole world waiting on +him, as some of these people do—ah, Hugh! +Finished your letters? That's right!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hugh Montfort, who had come in unobserved, +was leaning on his stick, watching them with +some amusement.</p> + +<p>"Who is this Jack, if I may ask, Uncle John? +He seems to be a rather remarkable sort of +chap."</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort looked slightly confused. +"Only my fantastic way of speaking of my +roses," he said. "They seem like real people +to me, and I am apt to call them by their +names. A shame, to be sure, to take such +liberties with the General. Permit me to present +you in due form! M. le Général Jacqueminot, +I have the honor to present to you Mr. +Hugh Montfort, my nephew, and—may I say +admirer? The General is sensitive to admiration."</p> + +<p>"You may indeed!" said Hugh, bowing +gravely to the splendid plant. "General, your +most obedient servant! I have known others +of your family, some of them, I may say, intimately, +and I can truly say that I never saw a +finer specimen of the race."</p> + +<p>The General glowed responsive, and Mr. Montfort +glowed too, with pleasure. "Fond of roses?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +he said; "that's good! that's good! why, boy, +you seem to have a great many of my tastes. +How's that, hey? your father never knew one +flower from another."</p> + +<p>There was a very tender light in Hugh's eyes +as he returned his uncle's look. "When I was +a little chap, sir," he said, "my father used to +tell me a good deal about you and Uncle +Roger, the two best fellows he ever knew. I +used to think—and I think still—that if +I could be like them in anything I should do +well; so I took to flowers because you loved +them, and to books because they were Uncle +Roger's delight. The big things seemed pretty +big, but I thought the little ones would be better +than nothing."</p> + +<p>The glow deepened on John Montfort's cheek, +and the light in his eyes; in Margaret's eyes +the quick tears sprang; and with one impulse +she and her uncle held out their hands. Hugh +grasped them both, and there was a moment of +silence that was better than speech. Hugh was +the first to break it. "I have two new friends!" +he said, in his sweet, cordial voice. "This day +is better than I dreamed, and that is saying a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +good deal. But now, go on with the roses, +Uncle John, please; there are several kinds +here that I do not know. What is this cream-colored +beauty?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that, Hugh, is my special pride. That +is a sport of my own raising; Victoria, I call +her. She took a first prize at the flower +show last year. We were proud, weren't we, +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed we were, Uncle John. Think, Hugh, +she had two hundred and seven buds and blossoms +when we sent her. She looked like a +snow-drift at sunrise; didn't you, Victoria?"</p> + +<p>"Could you send a plant of this size without +injury? Ah! I see; pot sunk. Well, she is a +marvel of beauty, certainly. I have some slips +coming from home for you, Uncle; the box +ought to be here to-day or to-morrow. There +are one or two things that I think you may not +have. But you have a noble collection; what a +joy a rose-garden is!"</p> + +<p>"Mine used to be the greatest pleasure I +had," said Mr. Montfort, "until I took to cultivating +another kind of flower, the human variety." +He pinched Margaret's ear affectionately,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +and she returned the pinch with a confidential +pat on his arm.</p> + +<p>"For many years," he continued, "I lived +something of a hermit life, Hugh. There were +reasons—no matter now—at all events I preferred +solitude, and save for my good aunt, +your great-aunt Faith, about whom Margaret +will have a great deal to tell you, I saw practically +no one from year's end to year's end. +Very foolish, as I am now aware; criminally +foolish. I have got beyond all that, thank +Heaven! During this secluded period, my garden, +and my roses in particular, were my chief +resource, next to my books. Indeed, in summer +time the books had to take the second place, and +it should be so. You remember Bacon, Hugh: +'God Almighty first planted a garden; it is the +purest of human pleasures,' etc. I used to +know that essay by heart. In summer time, the +Great Book, sir, the Book of Nature, is opened +for us, spread open by a divine hand; it were +thankless as well as stupid to refuse to study it. +So I studied my garden first, and after that, my +fields and woods and pastures. Great reading +in a broken pasture! When I wanted human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +companionship—apart from that sweet and +gracious influence of her who was my second +mother—I found it in my friends between the +covers, who were always ready to talk or be +silent, as my mood inclined. I thought I did +well enough with Shakespeare and Montaigne +and the rest; I have learned now that one living +voice, speaking in love and kindness, is +worth them all for 'human nature's daily +food.'"</p> + +<p>Margaret listened, wondering. Her uncle had +seldom said so much about his own life even to +her, his housemate and intimate companion these +two years; while Hugh, without a word, simply +from some power of silent sympathy that lay +in him, had drawn out this frank speech a +few hours after their first meeting. She wondered; +and then asked herself, why should she +wonder, since she herself felt the same drawing +toward her new-found relative. "This must be +what it is like to have a brother!" she said to +herself; and felt her heart quicken with a new +sense of comfort and happiness. "Such a +pleasant world!" said Margaret.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>A VISION</h3> + + +<p>Hugh Montfort was having a delightful +morning. He had been at Fernley three days +now, and already knew every nook and corner +on the place. With his uncle's consent he had +appropriated for his own use the little summer-house, +covered with clematis and York and Lancaster +roses, that looked out over the south wall +of the garden, and away toward the sea. Here he +had brought his desk (an old one belonging to his +father, that Margaret had found in the garret), +and had tacked up a shelf for a few favorite +books; and here he was sitting, on the fairest +of June days, with a volume of Greek plays +open before him, considering the landscape, and +enjoying himself thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Hugh was no less delighted with his uncle +and cousin than they with him. Always and +necessarily a student and observer rather than a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +man of action, he felt an instant sympathy with +the man and woman of books and thought. He +loved dearly his own family, active, strenuous +people, overflowing with strength and energy; +but he often felt himself out of place among +them, and reproached himself with the frequent +languor and headache that so often kept him +from sharing in their full-throated, whole-hearted +mirth. He had graduated from a Western +university, and was now going to study for +a post-graduate degree at Harvard; he was +tired, and the quiet at Fernley, the sense of perfect +congeniality with his uncle, and Margaret's +serene face and musical, even-toned voice, were +like balm to his over-strung nerves.</p> + +<p>This morning his head ached, and he did not +feel like study. The book open before him gave +him a kind of moral support, but he did hardly +more than glance at it from time to time. His +eyes roved far and wide over the lovely prospect +that lay outside, broad stretches of sunny, rolling +meadows, dotted with clumps of trees, and +framed in the arched opening of the summer-house. +This summer-house had been a favorite +playhouse of his father and uncles in their boyhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +He knew a dozen stories about it; and +now his eyes turned to the lattice walls, carved +everywhere with the familiar initials, and the +devices of the four brothers Montfort: John's +egg and Jim's oyster, Roger's book and Dick's +ship. What glorious boys they must have been! +This was where they used to play Curtius, and +Monte Cristo, and all manner of games; leaping +over the wall into the meadow below, deep in +fern and daisies, or swinging themselves down +by the hanging branches of the old willow that +peeped round one side of the arch. Glorious +boys! And then Hugh thought of his own +brothers, and said "Good old Jim!" under his +breath.</p> + +<p>Thus musing, he was aware of a voice under +his latticed bower, as of some one in the meadow +below; a woman's voice, calm and melodious as +Margaret's own, but with a deeper and graver +note in it.</p> + +<p>"What did he want then, a Lovely Person? +Did he want her to love him? Well, she did, +ardently; so that is all right."</p> + +<p>A rustling followed, and the voice spoke +again:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, he mustn't kiss her; that is not permitted. +He may lie at her feet, and gaze at her +with his large, brown eyes, Philip her King, but +no kissing. She is surprised at his suggesting +such a thing."</p> + +<p>Hugh sat mute, in great perplexity. What +interview was this, at which he was unwillingly +assisting? Were two rustic lovers below, taking +their ease under the old willow, whose twisted +roots made an admirable seat, as he knew? +And, if so, should he be guilty of the greater +offence by keeping still, or by going away? +He knew every board in the summer-house +floor, and there was not one that would not +betray him with a loud creak; on the whole, +it seemed best to sit still; after all, they need +never know that any one was there. Hark! +the young woman—the voice was certainly +young—was speaking again:</p> + +<p>"He was perfectly beautiful, that was what +he was. Yes! he had the loveliest eyes in the +world, without any exception; and his ears +were a dream of perfection, and, as for his +coat and waistcoat, words fail her to describe +them. Now if he will sit still, she will tell him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +something; no, not on her dress; a little farther +off, a precious Poppet!"</p> + +<p>A curious sound followed; something between +a loud sneeze and an equally loud yawn, accompanied +with lively and prolonged rustling of the +willow branches; but no articulate word from +her companion. She seemed satisfied, however, +for she went on,—a delightful quality of +voice; Hugh felt it creeping in his ears like +music:</p> + +<p>"That is right. Yes, she understands perfectly; +she knows all about it, and she loves +him to distraction. Well, Lovely One, that +Lady is a Cat; that is what she is."</p> + +<p>Another sneeze and yawn, louder than before.</p> + +<p>"Precisely; you think so, too. A cat! 'cat, +puss, tit, grimalkin, tabby, brindle; whoosh!' +was he fond of Dickens, a Pink-nosed Pearl? +She is no more sick than you are, Beloved. She +has been, no doubt, and now she has forgotten +how to be anything else, but she is liable to find +out. Your Aunt, beloved, proposes to put this +lady through a Course of Sprouts. Tu-whit! +your Aunt has spoken. We may also remark, +in this connection only, tu-whoo!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her companion's only reply to this speech +was a loud breathing, which might be caused +by emotion, or by heat and fatigue; at all +events, he did not seem inclined to speak. A +thought flashed through Hugh's mind,—the +man might be a deaf-mute. What a terrible +affliction! It was bad enough to be lame; but +to be deaf, and in company with a girl with a +voice like that! Hark! she was speaking again, +slowly and meditatively, rather as if talking to +herself than to some one else:</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt has not got her plan entirely +laid out yet. She knows what must finally +happen: the patient must be got out of that +house, and away on a sea-voyage; but there +will have to be various occurrences first. Your +Aunt's ingenuity, Adonis, will be put to a severe +strain. At present your Aunt is alone, and in +difficulties. Many oxen come about her, fat +bulls of Bashan compass her on every side, as +the Scripture hath it; you are not acquainted +with the Scripture, Adonis, so there is no earthly +use in your putting on that look of keen intelligence. +But there may be balm in Gilead; I +think Gilead may be in this very place above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +our head, my Popolorum Tibby. Now, what is +the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>At this moment a sound was heard,—a bark, +distant at first, but coming momently nearer; +a loud, joyous, inquiring bark. It was answered +from below by a sound combining bark, sneeze, +and snort; there was a violent shaking of the +branches, and, next moment, a brown and white +setter sprang out from under the wall, and +stood at gaze. Another instant, and a second +dog, his exact image, appeared on the brow +of the slope, careering toward him. There +was a rapturous duet of barking and sneezing, +and then the two swept away over the brow, +and were gone.</p> + +<p>"That is the most heartless puppy I ever +saw," the voice said, slowly. "A woodchuck, +I suppose. 'Twas ever thus. The moral is, +don't make love to strange puppies, however +beautiful; but he was lovely, and he understood +me. No more of him! The question +is, what should I find at the top of this beanstalk—I +should say, willow-tree? There is an—answer +to—every question—if—you only +ask it—quick enough!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>The last words were spoken so low that Hugh +did not catch their import. Alarmed, however, +by the continued rustling of the willow branches, +he rose hurriedly to his feet, and was about to +steal away as quietly as might be; but at that +moment a hand was laid on the coping of the +wall,—a brown hand, slender but muscular; +the next moment an arm followed, and a young +woman swung herself across the opening, and, +leaning on the wall, looked full in his face.</p> + +<p>It was the vision of an instant only; the +lithe figure, the face full of careless power, the +deep-set blue eyes, startling into black as they +met his, while the slender brows met above +them in angry amazement; then one hand +reached back to the willow branch, the girl +dropped from sight, and he heard her rustle +from branch to branch, and then heard the +light, swift sound of running feet through the +fern, and dying away in the distance.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Is this a pleasant neighborhood, Margaret?" +asked Hugh, as they sat on the verandah +after dinner. "Have you any pleasant—a—friends, +of your own age?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"None of my own age," said Margaret. "Indeed, +our only near neighbor is Mrs. Peyton, an +invalid lady, whom I go to see quite often. She +is very charming, but—no, there is no one else; +the places are large and scattered, you see, all +about here. The next one on the other side +belongs to Miss Desmond, and she is always +abroad, and has not been here at all since I +have."</p> + +<p>"You don't think she may have returned +lately, without your knowing it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am sure she cannot; I heard of her +only a few days ago, in Egypt; Uncle John had +a letter from her. Why do you ask, Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—idle curiosity; or curiosity, whether +idle or not. And—there are no other young +girls?"</p> + +<p>"None; that is why I missed Peggy and Rita +so terribly, as I was telling you last night. +Then the dear children came, and they were +my comfort and joy; I shall have them again +when the summer is over; happy day it will be +when they come back. But, you see, having +first the girls and then the children has rather +spoiled Uncle John and me, and that is why it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +was so very particularly nice of you to come, +Cousin Hugh."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we drop the 'cousin,' and be just +Hugh and Margaret?" suggested her cousin. +"I am used to having sisters about me, you +know, and don't know how to get along without +them; some day it may be 'Sister Margaret.' +Should you mind?"</p> + +<p>Margaret colored high with pleasure, and +again the foolish tears came into her eyes. "I +have wanted a brother all my life!" she said, +simply; and again Hugh's smile told her that +he understood all about it. He was certainly a +most wonderful person.</p> + +<p>They sat in comfortable silence for a few +minutes; then—"I did not tell the exact +truth," said Margaret, "when I said there were +no young people here. Just now it happens +there is one, a newcomer, a girl of my own +age."</p> + +<p>She paused. "Yes?" said Hugh, suggestively. +"Some one you know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—and no! I have met her once. She +is a Miss Wolfe, who has come to be a sort of +companion to Mrs. Peyton. A singular-looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +girl, with a most interesting face. I want to +see her again; and yet,—somehow,—I am +rather afraid of her."</p> + +<p>"Is she formidable, this she-wolf?"</p> + +<p>"Not formidable, but—well, I don't know +how to describe her. She impresses me as different +from anybody I have ever seen. Wild is +not the word; Rita was wild, but it was something +totally different."</p> + +<p>"Peggy is wild, too," said Hugh, "wild as a +mountain goat, or was, before you took her +in hand, Margaret. Is this young lady like +Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in the very least. She is not shy, +not a bit; not shy, and yet not bold. She +seems simply absolutely without self-consciousness; +it is as if she said and did exactly what +she felt like doing, with no thought as to +whether it was—well, customary or not. I +am afraid I am rather conventional, Cousin—I +mean Hugh; not in thought, I hope, but—in +temperament, perhaps. This girl strikes me +very strangely; that is the only way I can +describe her. Yet she attracted me strongly, +the only time I saw her, which was the very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +day you came, by the way. I ought to have +gone over to see her before this. I think I will +go this evening, while you and Uncle John are +having your after-supper smoke."</p> + +<p>"I think I would," said Hugh Montfort.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>ALI BABA</h3> + + +<p>Margaret went over duly that evening, +meaning to be very friendly to the strange +young woman; but it happened to be one of +Mrs. Peyton's bad times, and she sent down +word that she needed Miss Wolfe, and could +not possibly spare her. Margaret left a civil +message, and went home disappointed, and yet +the least bit relieved: she had rather dreaded +a long tête-à-tête with her new neighbor.</p> + +<p>"How absurd you are, Margaret Montfort," +she said, severely, as she walked across the +park. "Here you have been longing for a girl +to talk to, and the moment one comes, you +are seized with what Peggy calls 'the shyies,' +just because she happens to be cut from a different +pattern from your own."</p> + +<p>Hugh was on the verandah, waiting for her, +and seemed really disappointed when he heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +that she had not seen Miss Wolfe; that showed +how wide and cordial his interest was, and how +much thought he took for others, Margaret told +herself. What could he care about the meeting +of a cousin he had just begun to know with a +girl whom he never had seen?</p> + +<p>Next day, however, she forgot all about Miss +Wolfe, for the time being. Gerald and Philip +Merryweather had accepted Mr. Montfort's invitation +with amazing alacrity, and Jean had +telegraphed her rapture of anticipation from +Ohio. Uncle John and Hugh were left to their +own devices, while she plunged, with Elizabeth +and Frances and Polly, into intricacies of hospitable +preparation. Stores must be ordered, +linen examined, silver and china looked out. +In regard to the silver, Margaret had an experience +that showed her that, even after two +years, she did not know all the resources of +Fernley House. Her uncle called her into his +study after breakfast, and handed her a key of +curious pattern. "This is the key of the iron +cupboard, Margaret," he said. Seeing her look +of surprise, he added, "You surely know about +the iron cupboard, my dear?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, Uncle John. I remember hearing +Aunt Faith speak of something of the kind +once, but I did not rightly understand, and, +being shy then,—it was before I knew our +Dear so well,—I did not like to ask."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is no mystery, my child. No +secret staircase this time, no ghosts in velvet +jackets. But in a house like Fernley, that has +been inhabited for many generations, there is +necessarily an accumulation of certain kinds of +things, above all, silver. We keep out all that +an ordinary family would be likely to use, and +the rest is stored in this safe cupboard, in case +of fire or robbery. Very stupid of me not to +have told my careful little housekeeper of this +before. To tell the truth, I forget all about +this hoard most of the time, and might not +have thought of it now, if Elizabeth had not +come to me with an important face and asked +me if I did not think Miss Margaret ought to +have the opportunity of putting out The Silver +if she wished to do so, being as the house was +to be full of company. That meant that Elizabeth +herself wanted to display to the astonished +eyes of Hugh and the Merryweather boys the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +resources of the house that she and Frances +rule (on the whole, wisely), through you and +me, their deputies and servants. I see no +reason why the good souls should not be gratified +do you?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I see every reason why +they, and I too, should be gratified. Uncle John, +I am glad I did not know about it before. It is +the most delightful thing about Fernley, that +one never seems to come to the end of it. I +thought I knew everything by this time, and +here is another enchanting mystery; for say +what you will, Uncle John, an iron cupboard +full of old silver, that nobody knows about,—or +hardly anybody,—<i>is</i> a mystery. Now I am +sure there are others, too; I shall never feel +again that I know all about the house. Some +day, when I am old and gray, I shall come upon +another secret staircase, or a trap-door, or a +hidden jewel-casket, or a lost will."</p> + +<p>"Why, as to jewel-caskets," said Mr. Montfort, +smiling, "there is perhaps something that +might be said; but as you say, it would never +do to find out everything at once, May Margaret. +Run away now, and examine your tea-kettles;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +there are about forty, if I remember +rightly."</p> + +<p>"Uncle John! is there really a jewel-casket? +What do you mean? There cannot be any more +than those Aunt Faith had, surely."</p> + +<p>"Can't there?" said Mr. Montfort, with a provoking +smile. "Doubtless you know best, my +dear." And not another word would he say on +the subject; but he told Margaret where to find +the iron cupboard, and she ran off in such a +flutter that Peggy would hardly have known +her model and mentor. Old silver was one of +Margaret's weak points; indeed, she had a +strong feeling about heirlooms of every kind, +and treasured carefully every scrap of paper +even that had any association with past times.</p> + +<p>Seeing Hugh in the library, she called to him. +"Hugh! come with me and see the Treasure +Chamber of the Montforts. Don't you want to +see the ancestral silver?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do!" said Hugh, laying down +his book and coming to join her. "Ancestral +silver? My mother went to housekeeping with +six teaspoons and a butter-knife, and thought +herself rich. Uncle John wanted to send a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +trunkful of family silver, I have been told, but +the Pater refused to be bothered with it. Poor +Mother would have been glad enough of it, I +fancy, but in those days he was masterful, and +bent on roughing it, and would not hear of anything +approaching luxury, or even convenience. +Where is this wonderful treasury?"</p> + +<p>"Come, and you shall see. Uncle John has +told me how to find it. Come through this +door; here we are in his own study, you see. +Now—let me see! I will light this lamp—for +the cupboard is dark—while you look and find +Inigo Jones."</p> + +<p>"Inigo Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A tall blue morocco quarto, about the +middle of the fourth shelf of the bookcase behind +Uncle John's desk. Ah! I see him!"</p> + +<p>Springing forward, Margaret drew the stately +volume from its place. "Look!" she cried. +"A keyhole. Hugh, isn't this exactly like the +'Mysteries of Udolpho?' 'Inigo Jones' is his +joke, you see, or somebody's joke. Do you +mind if I turn the key, Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"Turn away!" said Hugh, much amused at +the excitement of his staid little cousin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>With a trembling hand Margaret turned the +key, and gave a pull, as she had been told. A +section of the bookcase, with its load of books, +swung slowly forward, revealing a dark opening. +Margaret stepped in, and Hugh followed, +holding the lamp aloft.</p> + +<p>"Well, upon my word!" he said. "I never +heard of anything like this, out of the 'Arabian +Nights.'"</p> + +<p>Margaret was looking about her, too much +absorbed for words. The Iron Cupboard was a +recess some ten feet deep and seven or eight +wide, lined with shelves. These shelves were +literally packed with silver, some in boxes, +much in bags, glimmering in the half-light +like dwarfish ghosts; but the greater part uncovered, +glittering in tarnished splendor wherever +the lamplight fell. Rows upon rows of +teapots, tall and squat, round and oval, chased, +hammered, and plain; behind them, coffee-pots +looking down, in every possible device. There +were silver pitchers and silver bowls; porringers +and fruit-dishes, salvers and platters. Such an +array as might dazzle the eyes of any silversmith +of moderate ambition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Margaret," said Hugh, somewhat impressed, +but more amused, at sight of all this +hoarded treasure, "what do you say? I shall +leave the expression of emotion to you."</p> + +<p>But Margaret was in no jesting mood. With +clasped hands she turned to her cousin. "Oh, +Hugh," she cried, "isn't it wonderful? to think +of all those beautiful things living here alone,—I +don't mean alone, but all by themselves—year +after year, with no one to see them, or +take them out and polish them. Oh, I never +saw such things! Look at this perfect pitcher, +will you? did you ever see anything so graceful? +This must come in, if nothing else does. +The milk shall be poured from it from this +day forward, as long as I am the Mistress of +Fernley. That is just a play-name, of course," +she hastened to explain, blushing as she did so. +"Uncle John gave it to me in sport, when I +first began to try to keep house."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me a most appropriate name," +said Hugh. "There has never been another, +has there? in this generation, I mean. Uncle +John was never married, was he?"</p> + +<p>"No; isn't it a pity? I have so often wondered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +why. I asked Aunt Faith once,—well, +Hugh, of course she was Mistress of Fernley as +long as she lived, though she would always +speak of herself as a visitor,—and she only +sighed and shook her head, and said, 'Poor +John! poor dear lad!' and then changed the +subject. But—do you suppose any one can +hear us here, Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"I do not, Margaret. I should say that you +might safely tell me anything, of however fearful +a nature, in this iron-bound retreat."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it really isn't anything—or perhaps it +is not—but my own fancy. I have built up a +kind of air-castle of the past, that is all. You +know Uncle John's passion for roses? Well, +and sometimes, when he is sitting quietly and +has forgotten that any one is near, he will say +to himself, 'Rose! Rose!' softly, just like that, +and as if it were something he loved to say. I +have wondered whether he once cared a great +deal for some one whose name was Rose.—What +do you think, Hugh? and she died, and that is +why he has never married. There! I have +never spoken of this before, not even to Peggy. +Don't tell any one, will you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked anxiously in her cousin's face, and +met the grave, sweet look that always made +her feel safe and quiet; she did not know how +else to express it.</p> + +<p>"Tell any one? No indeed, my dear little +cousin. It is a young girl's fancy, and a very +sweet and graceful one."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't think it may be true?" +asked Margaret, disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Certainly it may be true; I should think it +highly probable that something of the sort had +happened, to keep a man like Uncle John single +all his days; but—well, I don't see that anything +can be done about it now, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Hugh, I am afraid you are practical, after +all!" said Margaret. "And I was hoping you +would turn out romantic."</p> + +<p>Hugh only laughed, and asked her if she had +chosen all the silver she wanted. This question +put a stop at once to Margaret's romantic visions. +Enough? but, she had only just begun, +she said. Did he think she was going to take +one pitcher and leave all the rest of these enchanting +treasures?</p> + +<p>"And we have not explored the boxes yet!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +she cried. "See, they all have dear little ivory +labels. Do reach me down that fat square box, +please! 'Col. Montfort's Tankard, 1814.' Oh, +that was our great-great-grandfather, Hugh! +Do let us open this!"</p> + +<p>The black leathern box, being opened, revealed +a stately glass-bottomed tankard, with a +dragon's curling tail for a handle. On the front +was an inscription, "Presented to Col. Peter +Montfort, in token of respect and affection, by +the officers of his mess, July, 1814."</p> + +<p>"His portrait is up in the long gallery," said +Margaret. "Don't you remember, with the high +ruffled stock? I don't see how he could speak, +with his chin so very high in the air. Now I +must have that oval green case; I am sure that +is something interesting. 'General Washington's +Gift.' Oh, Hugh!"</p> + +<p>This time Hugh was as much interested as she, +and both bent eagerly over the box as Margaret +opened it. The case was of faded green +morocco, lined with crimson satin. Within was +an oval cup or bowl, of exquisite workmanship; +it was what is called a loving-cup, and Margaret +looked in vain for an inscription.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There must be one!" said Hugh. "<i>Papa +Patriæ</i> would not have been so unkind as to +leave such a thing unmarked. Look on the +bottom, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked, and there, to be sure, was a +tolerably long inscription, in minute script.</p> + +<p>"Hold the light nearer, please; I can hardly +read this, it is so fine. Oh, listen to this, Hugh! +'For my worthy Friend and Host, Roger Montfort +Esquire, and his estimable Lady, in grateful +Recollection of my agreeable Stay beneath +their hospitable Roof. From their obliged +Friend and Servant, G. Washington. 1776.'"</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> a treasure!" said Hugh, handling +the bowl with reverent care. "I knew that +General Washington had spent some days at +Fernley, but I never heard of this relic of his +stay. Margaret, this is really extremely interesting. +Go on, and open more of them. Perhaps +we shall find tokens of all the Continental Congress. +I shall look for at least a model of a +kite in silver, with the compliments of B. Franklin. +Suppose we try this next. It looks very +inviting."</p> + +<p>He took down an oblong box of curious pattern,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +and opened it. "What upon earth—Margaret, +what are these? Grape-scissors? +Asparagus-tongs? They don't look like either."</p> + +<p>"I should think not!" said Margaret, taking +the object from his hand. "Why, it is a pair +of curling-tongs. What queer things! No inscription +on these; there isn't room for one. +Here is a piece of paper in the box, though."</p> + +<p>She took up a yellowish scrap, and read: +"'My niece Jemima's curling-tongs, with which +she, being impatient to make a Show above her +Sisters, did burn off one Side of her Hair. Preserved +as a Warning to young Women by me, +Tabitha Montfort. 1803.' Poor Jemima! She +was punished enough, without being held up to +posterity in this way."</p> + +<p>"She was an extravagant young lady," said +Hugh, "with her silver tongs; I think it may +have been good for her soul, if not her hair, to +suffer this infliction. Are you going to keep +these out, Margaret, for use? I do hope you will +be more careful than Aunt Jemima was. Your +hair—excuse me!—looks as if you had not +used the irons for some time."</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed, and patted the smooth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +waves of her hair. "It <i>is</i> some time!" she said. +"Yours, on the other hand, Hugh, has more +curl than may be altogether natural. I may +have suspected you of the tongs, but at least I +have had the charity to keep my suspicions to +myself."</p> + +<p>"You are extremely good, Miss Montfort. +What have you got hold of now?"</p> + +<p>"'Dear Johnny's Rattle!'" said Margaret, +reading the label on a small box. "I wonder +if that was Uncle John. See! silver bells; what +a sweet tone!"</p> + +<p>She shook a merry peal from the tiny bells. +Hugh, who had been rummaging at the other +end of the cupboard, replied with a clear blast +blown on a small silver trumpet, which he now +held up in triumph. "Here we are!" he cried. +"This is the instrument for me. This was +presented to Captain Hugh Montfort of the +navy. What on earth could the gallant commander +do with this at sea?"</p> + +<p>"Whistle for a wind, of course," said Margaret, +merrily. "What else? Come here and +look at Grandfather Montfort's gold-bowed +spectacles; they are big enough for an ox."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>So the talk went on merrily, and box after +box, bag after bag, was opened, sometimes with +astonishing results. The bygone Montforts +seemed to have been fond of silver, and to +have vied with one another in their ingenious +applications of it to domestic uses.</p> + +<p>Many of the objects had historic or personal +interest, and the two cousins might have spent +the day there, if Mr. Montfort had not suddenly +appeared, asking whether he was to have any +dinner or not. Margaret had her arms full by +this time, while Hugh was trying his best to +carry a splendid fruit-bowl, a salver, two pitchers, +and three vases, all at once. Mr. Montfort +burst out laughing at sight of the pair. +"Cassim and Ali Baba!" he cried. "And I, +the Robber Captain, with not a single one of all +the Forty Thieves at my back. Margaret, for +charity's sake! you are not going to bring all +that rubbish into the house? Isn't there enough +already? I'm sorry I told you anything about +it."</p> + +<p>Margaret looked up, guilty but happy, from +her effort at capturing a fourth vase with her +little finger, the only one left unencumbered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +"Dear Uncle, you never would be so cruel!" +she said. "See! I have only taken one chocolate-pot, +and there are five, such beauties! +Yes, I know we don't drink chocolate, but some +of our guests might, and you would not have +me neglect the guests, would you, Uncle +John?"</p> + +<p>"Sooner than have a guest take his chocolate +from a china pot," said Mr. Montfort, gravely, +"I would go to the stake. At present, if you +will pardon a very old joke, my dear Margaret, +I should prefer to go to the beefsteak, which I +have reason to think is on the table at this +moment. Come out, both of you young thieves, +and let Inigo Jones go in again!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +</p><h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>MORE ARRIVALS</h3> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 146px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.png" width="146" height="300" alt=""SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST EYES."" title=""SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST EYES."" /> +<span class="caption">"SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST EYES."</span> +</div><p>The great day came, the day of the arrivals. +Jean was the first to come, by an early train, +having arrived in New York the night before, +where Hugh met her and brought her in triumph +to Fernley. Margaret was at the door to +receive her, and Peggy's sister had no cause +to complain of the warmth of her reception. +She was a slenderer Peggy, with the same blue, +honest eyes, the same flaxen hair and rosy +cheeks. Her dress, however, was far more +tasteful and neat than Peggy's had been on +her first arrival. Margaret recalled the green +flannel, all buttoned awry, and looked with approval +on Jean's pretty gray travelling-dress.</p> + +<p>"Dear Jean!" she said, kissing her cousin +warmly. "Most welcome to Fernley, dear +child! Oh, I am so glad to see you! I have +been counting the days, Jean."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, so have I!" said Jean, looking up with +a shy, sweet smile,—Peggy's very own smile. +Margaret kissed her again for it. "The last +day did seem awfully long, Cousin Margaret—well, +Margaret, then! I'm sure I never call +you anything but Peggy's Margaret when I +think of you. Peggy hasn't come yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. She will be here this afternoon, +on the three o'clock train. She knows nothing +about your coming, Jean. In her very last +letter, she was talking about being glad to +come here, and so on, and she said the only +thing wanting would be you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody! I'm awfully glad—that she +doesn't know, I mean. It will be just lovely +to surprise her. Dear old Peg!" Jean relapsed +into bashful silence when Margaret took her +into the library to greet her uncle; but Mr. +Montfort's smile and cordial greeting soon put +her at her ease.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he just lovely?" she whispered to +Margaret, as they went up-stairs. "I was +afraid he would be awful, somehow, but he +isn't a bit; he's just lovely."</p> + +<p>Margaret assented, making a mental note<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +of the fact that this child seemed to have but +two adjectives in her vocabulary. "Peggy will +see to that!" she said to herself. "Peggy has +improved so wonderfully in her English this +last year. She will be quicker than I to notice +and take up the little mistakes."</p> + +<p>This was not strictly true, though modest +Margaret meant it so. Peggy certainly had +learned much at school, but her teachers had +no expectation of her becoming an eminent +English scholar.</p> + +<p>"I have put you with Peggy," said Margaret, +leading the way into the pretty room, hung +with red-poppy chintz, where Peggy had spent +a few sad and many happy hours. "I thought +you would rather be together."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed! You are awfully kind, +Cous—Margaret. I haven't seen Peggy for +a year, you know. We missed her awfully at +Christmas, of course, but she had a lovely time +here; and it would have been awful if she +had come home and got the measles, wouldn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we did have a very good time. The +children were here,—Basil and Susan D.,—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +they and Peggy were fast friends. Oh, yes, it +was a great holiday. Now, dear, you will want +to rest a little, so I will leave you. Peggy will +not be here till after lunch, so you will have +time for a good rest, and to explore the garden, +too, if you like. I am going now to arrange +my flowers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, might I help? I am not a bit tired, and +I just love to arrange flowers. Do let me help, +Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Margaret, with a little +inward sigh. She had her own ideas, and very +definite ones, about the arrangement of flowers, +in which she had exquisite taste; and her recollection +of the way in which Peggy used to +squeeze handfuls of blossoms tight into a vase, +without regard to color or form, made her dread +the assistance so heartily proffered; but Jean +was quicker than Peggy had been at her age, +and one glance at Margaret's first "effect," a +rainbow combination of sweet-peas, showering +over the side of a crystal bowl, filled her with +ambition to emulate its beauty. The morning +passed happily and busily, the more so that +Hugh came in presently, with a chapter of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +Thoreau that Margaret "really must hear!" +He read well, and his taste and Margaret's +being much alike, they spent many pleasant +hours together, he reading aloud, she with her +flowers or her work. Jean, who had never +heard of Thoreau, and was not bookish, tried +to listen, but did not make much of it. She +fell to meditating instead, and her bright eyes +wandered curiously from one intent face to the +other. Hugh never thought of reading aloud +at home. To be sure, he was the only one who +cared about reading, or had time for it. He +and Margaret seemed to know each other very +well, seeing what a short time he had been here. +Jean, with all the eager romance of fifteen, +straightway began the building of an air-castle, +which seemed to her a fine structure indeed. +Meantime, Hugh and Margaret, all unconscious +of her scrutiny, were enjoying themselves extremely.</p> + +<p>"'As polishing expresses the vein in marble +and grain in wood, so music brings out what of +heroic lurks anywhere. . . . When we are in +health, all sounds fife and drum to us; we hear +notes of music in the air, or catch its echoes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +dying away when we awake in the dawn. +Marching is when the pulse of the hero beats +in unison with the pulse of Nature, and he steps +to the measure of the universe; then there is +true courage and invincible strength.'"</p> + +<p>"How beautiful that is!" said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is the particular passage I wanted +to read to you. Have you ever had that feeling, +fancying that you wake to the sound of music? +I often have, when I have been sleeping out in +the open—never within doors."</p> + +<p>"No," said Margaret, "I don't think I ever +have, Hugh; but what a pleasant thing it must +be! I have never slept in the open, but even if +I should, I fear my waking would be plain prose, +like myself."</p> + +<p>Hugh laughed, and glanced at her affectionately. +"I haven't found much prose about you, +Margaret," he said. "If I had, I should not +have read you my secrets when Thoreau tells +them for me. That reminds me, do you sing? +I have not heard you, have I?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wish I did, for I love music very +much. Oh, I sing a very little, enough to +join in a chorus—if there ever were a chorus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +at Fernley. I used to enjoy Rita's singing intensely; +she has a very sweet voice."</p> + +<p>"Some one was singing last night," Hugh +went on; "I don't know why, but this passage +reminds me—I heard a woman's voice singing,—a +remarkable voice."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? Where were you? Not in your +room? I am sure there is no one in the house +who sings."</p> + +<p>"No; it was pretty warm, and the moon—well, +you remember, it was all you could do to +go to bed yourself, Margaret. After Virtue, in +the shape of yourself and Uncle John, had gone +to bed, Vice, in my shape, wandered about the +garden, I don't know how long. It was wonderful +there, with the trees, and the smell of +the roses and box, and—and the whole thing, +you know. Down at the foot of the garden, +over in the meadow below, some one was singing; +some one with a remarkable voice; rather +deep-toned, not loud, and yet full, with an extraordinary +degree of melody; or, so it seemed +at a distance. I wondered who it was, that +was all. You have no idea, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No! I wonder too, very much. No one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +from this house, I am sure of that. Now that +I think of it, though, Polly sings—Polly, the +under housemaid; she has a pretty little bird-like +voice, but nothing such as you describe. +I'll make inquiries, though—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray don't!" said Hugh, hastily, "I'd +rather not! I—I mean, of course, it is not +of the smallest consequence, Margaret. It is +pleasant to hear singing at night, but perhaps +all the pleasanter when the singer is unseen +and unknown. Now let us go on with our +Thoreau."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Margaret! Margaret! Margaret!"</p> + +<p>It was all Peggy could say at first. All the +way up the avenue her heart had been beating +high; at sight of the brown chimney-stacks of +Fernley, it seemed to give a great jump up in +her throat; and when the carriage swept round +the curve, and she saw the whole front of the +great house, and Margaret, her own Margaret, +standing on the steps, with arms outstretched +to welcome her, there was nothing for it but to +cry out, with the full power of her healthy +lungs. Almost before Bannan could stop the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +horses, she had scrambled out, and was on her +cousin's neck, strangling her with hugs, and +smothering her with kisses at the same instant. +"Margaret! Margaret! I am really here! Do +you know that I am really here?"</p> + +<p>Speech was impossible for Margaret, but a +voice from behind broke in:</p> + +<p>"Come, come! what is all this? My niece +done to death on my own doorstep? Let go, +Peggy, and come and kill me instead. I am +older, and shall be less missed."</p> + +<p>Peggy loosed her hold, somewhat abashed, +but received an embrace from her uncle so +warm that she brightened again instantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John, how do you do? It was +only that I was so glad to see my darling Margaret. +Did I hurt you, dearest? I have pulled +all your lovely hair down; Margaret, I am more +clumsy than ever, I do believe."</p> + +<p>"Dear Peggy! as if I cared whether you are +clumsy or not! though it is convenient to have +the use of my windpipe, I confess. Well, and +here you are, indeed. Why, Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Why, Peggy!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! what is the matter? Is my hat +wrong side before? I know my necktie is +crooked, but I couldn't help that, truly I +couldn't, Margaret; the strap is broken, and +it will work round under my ear. I'll mend +it—"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't looking at your necktie, child. +Peggy, you are taller than I am! How dare +you, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Margaret! I really thought I had +done something—why, yes, so I am taller; but +only just the least little bit, Margaret."</p> + +<p>"And your shoulders—why, Peggy, you are +a great big creature! How can any one grow +so in six months? We shall have to call you +Brynhild."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Peggy, simply. "I +haven't grown enough to understand outlandish +words, Margaret, so you need not try them +on me. Oh,"—she looked around her with +delighted eyes,—"how beautiful everything +looks, Uncle John. Why, the yellow birch has +grown as much as I have; it is quite a fat +tree. And—you have put out more chestnuts, +haven't you? And—oh, Uncle John, I haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +told you my great news! The most wonderful +news! I wouldn't write about it, because +I wanted to surprise you. Hugh, our Hugh, +is coming East. He is—"</p> + +<p>"What is he?" said another voice, and +Hugh came forward laughing, and took his +sister in his arms. "Well, little girl,—big, +enormous, colossal little girl, how are you? +Shut your eyes, Peg of Limavaddy, or they will +drop out, and then what should we do?"</p> + +<p>"Hugh! what does it mean? When—how +did you get here? You weren't to start till +next week."</p> + +<p>"So I wasn't," said Hugh, composedly. "But +you see I did. If you are not glad to see me, +Margaret will let me stay in the back kitchen, +I am sure, till you go away."</p> + +<p>Peggy's only reply was a hug as powerful as +the one she had given Margaret; it set her +brother coughing and laughing till the tears +came to his eye. "My dear sister," he said, +"have you been studying grips with a grizzly +bear? I felt one rib go, if not two."</p> + +<p>"Not really, Hugh? I didn't really hurt +you?" cried Peggy, anxiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, no! not really. See now, Margaret +wants you. Run along, Samsonina."</p> + +<p>Peggy ran into the house, casting delighted +glances all about her.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful the hall looks! Oh, Margaret, +what flowers! why, it is a perfect flower +show! Did you do them all yourself? for +me? Oh, you darling!" and again Margaret's +breath was extinguished by a powerful embrace. +"And, oh, the surprise of seeing Hugh! +You know I love a surprise. You planned +it for me, didn't you, darling Margaret? You +are the most angelic—"</p> + +<p>"Peggy! Peggy! Peggy! no extravagance!"</p> + +<p>"No, Margaret, I won't. Only how can I +help it, when I am so happy, and you are +so—"</p> + +<p>But here Margaret fairly laid her hand over +Peggy's mouth. "I did not plan Hugh's coming," +she said. "I was as much surprised, and +as pleasantly, as you, Peggy. He came earlier +than he had expected, on account of some business +for Uncle James. Only, we all agreed +that we would not tell you, because we knew +your fondness for surprises. Do you think you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +could bear another, Peggy, or is this enough +for to-day?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Margaret? There +can't be anything more. Nothing could count +after the joy of seeing Hugh. Oh, Margaret, +isn't he dear? Don't you love him?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do!" said Margaret, heartily. +"You never said half enough about him, Peggy. +Oh, we are such friends, Uncle John and Hugh +and I. But is there no other thing you can +think of that you would like, Peggy, dear? No +one else you would like very, very much to +see?"</p> + +<p>They were now at the door of Peggy's room, +and Margaret's hand was on the door. Peggy +turned and looked at her in wonder. "What +do you mean, Margaret? Why do you look +like that?" At this moment a sound was +heard on the other side of the door, something +between a cry, a sniffle, and a sob.</p> + +<p>"Who is in there?" cried Peggy, her eyes +opening to their fullest and roundest extent.</p> + +<p>"Go in and see," said Margaret, and she +opened the door and pushed Peggy gently in, +and shut it again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>She heard a great cry. "Jean! my Jean!" +"Oh, Peggy! Peggy!" then kissing and hugging; +and then sounds which made her open +the door and come quickly into the room. +Peggy and Jean were seated on the floor, side +by side, their heads on each other's shoulder, +crying as if their hearts would break.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +</p><h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF</h3> + + +<p>"Well, Jean!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"What do you think of them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think they are just lovely. I like the +tall one best, don't you? Though the red-haired +one is awfully nice, too."</p> + +<p>"Goose! I didn't mean them. I meant +Uncle John and Margaret. Aren't they dear? +Did I say half enough about them, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"No, not half. Margaret is just too lovely +for anything, and Uncle John—well, of course, +I am awfully afraid of him, but he is just lovely, +too."</p> + +<p>"Look here, young one!" said Peggy the +Venerable, gravely. "Can't you say anything +except 'awful' and 'lovely?' I would enlarge +my vocabulary, if I were you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jean opened her eyes to their roundest. +"Vocabulary! What's that? Don't tell me +that you are going to set up for a school-teacher, +Peggy. Why, you used to say 'awful' +yourself, all the time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Jean, not quite all the time."</p> + +<p>"Well, awfully often, anyhow. I know you +did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jean, I know I did. But first Margaret +told me about it, and then I began to notice for +myself. I've been taking Special English this +year, and I find I notice more and more. It's +really a pity, as Margaret says, to have only two +or three words and work them to death, when +there are so many good ones that we never +use at all. Grace used to call it 'Cruelty to +Syllables.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall I say? I don't know +anything else."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do; don't be absurd, child. Margaret +made me a list of adjectives and adverbs +once, I remember, the first time I was here; I +was just your age then, Jean, and I have no +doubt I <i>did</i> say 'awfully' most of the time; +anyhow, I did it enough to trouble Margaret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +aw—very much indeed. Let me see: there is +'very,' of course; 'remarkably, extremely, uncommonly, +exceedingly, and excessively;' then +for adjectives, 'charming, delightful, pretty, +exquisite, pleasant, agreeable, entertaining,'—well, +there were a great many more, but that is +all I can think of now; all these will do instead +of 'awful' and 'lovely,' Jean."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Peggy, dear, you are a regular school-ma'am. +Please don't let us talk about all these +horrid things, the first night I am here. I am +perfectly dying to know what you think about +the two Mr. Merryweathers, and about Hugh +and Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Why, I think the Merryweathers seem very +nice boys indeed. I like the funny one best, I +think; Gerald, is his name? But the other +one is nice, too. He has such kind eyes, and +such a pleasant voice. Somehow he looks more +like Gertrude than Gerald does, even though +Gerald has her hair. Oh, Jean, I wish you could +see my Snowy Owl! She is so dear, and beautiful, +and strong; next to you and Margaret, +she is the very dearest girl in the world, except +one."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May I come in?" said Margaret's voice at +the door. She was greeted by a duet of "Come +in, do!" and entering, found her two cousins +seated on the floor, hair-brush in hand, brushing +out their long fair hair.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Maud and Madge in their robes of white,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The prettiest nightgowns under the sun!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>quoted Margaret. "How comfortable you look, +girls! May I do my hair here, too? I knew +you would be sitting up, chattering. Who is +the very dearest girl in the world except one, +Peggy? And who is the one? I heard the +end of your sentence before I knocked."</div> + +<p>"Yes, but you didn't hear the beginning," +said Peggy, "or you would know that you two +here are the <i>very</i> dearest, and that the others +only come after you. I was speaking of Gertrude +Merryweather; oh! how you and she will +love each other, Margaret! I don't see how I +can wait to have you know each other. And +by the 'except one,' I meant Grace Wolfe, our +Horny Owl, and our Goat, and a good many +other things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where is she now?" asked Margaret. +"Have you heard from her lately?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, sadly. "None of us +have heard at school. She wrote Miss Russell +some time ago that she was going to try a new +departure, and expected either to go mad or +make her fortune; but she didn't say what it +was. She never writes many letters, you know. +We have all written again and again, but it +makes no difference. Hark! what is that +noise?"</p> + +<p>"What noise? I heard nothing," said +Margaret.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard some one speak, outside +the window."</p> + +<p>They listened for a moment, but all was +quiet.</p> + +<p>"It may have been Uncle John and Hugh in +the garden," said Margaret. "It is early yet, +you know, not ten o'clock; they often walk +about for an hour and more after we come up. +Speaking of Grace Wolfe, Peggy,—"</p> + +<p>"Tu-whit!" said a voice. "In this connection +only, I may be permitted to remark, tu-whoo!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Grace!</i>" cried Peggy, in such a voice that +the other girls sprang to their feet. Peggy was +at the window before them, snatching back the +curtain. The night was warm, and the upper +sash had been lowered completely. Leaning +over the sash was a slender figure shimmering +white in the moonlight. "Any admittance for +the Goat?" said a deep, melodious voice. +"Peace, Innocent!" for Peggy was trying to +drag her in over the sash by main force.</p> + +<p>"I address the mistress of the dwelling. Is +there admittance for a miscellaneous quadruped, +Margaret Montfort?"</p> + +<p>But now Margaret had her other hand, and +laughing and crying, the girls had her in, and +again Peggy displayed the powerful development +of her muscles in a strangling embrace, +from which Grace emerged panting, but unruffled. +Giving Peggy a sedate kiss, she turned +to Margaret, who still held her hand, gazing in +wonder and bewilderment; for this was Mrs. +Peyton's companion.</p> + +<p>"You pardon the informality?" she said; +and her smile was like light in the room. "I +could not come to call on Peggy, or on Peggy's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +Margaret, with my bonnet on. And it is a +<i>great</i> wall to climb!" she added, wistfully. +"I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so; +there is little climbing in these sad days. Now +you see why I did not want to be Miss Fox."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear!" cried Margaret. "How +could you keep me in the dark? How stupid—how +utterly stupid of me, not to know you! +And yet, how could I have guessed that Mrs. +Peyton's companion was Peggy's own beloved +Grace? You must be my Grace, too, please; +I will have neither wolves nor foxes, but only +Grace, or the Horned Owl."</p> + +<p>She kissed Grace, who returned the kiss +warmly. But now Peggy, who had been silent +for a moment in sheer amazement, broke in:</p> + +<p>"What does this all mean?" she cried. +"Have you dropped from the moon, Grace +Wolfe, or where do you come from? You and +Margaret have met before? Where, and how, +and when? I must know all about it, this very +instant."</p> + +<p>The situation was soon explained. Jean, who +had hung back, shy and frightened, was brought +forward and introduced; and soon all four girls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +were seated comfortably on the floor, talking as +if nothing astonishing had happened. Only +every few minutes Peggy would put her hand +out and touch Grace's shoulder, as if to make +sure that she was genuine flesh and blood, and +not some phantom conjured up out of the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"I have tried twice to see you," Margaret +said. "Both times I seemed to have come just +at the wrong moment. Do tell me how you are +getting on, Grace! How has Mrs. Peyton been +since you have been there? It is very seldom +that I am so many days without seeing her."</p> + +<p>"Singular lady!" said Grace. "Beautiful, +but singular. She thinks me mad, so matters +are equal. Why, we get on—somewhere! I +am not sure where. At present, I am in disgrace. +She did not like her chocolate this +morning, and being in a pet, bade me throw it +out of window; I obeyed. It appears the cup +was valuable, which was a pity, as its bones are +scattered far and wide."</p> + +<p>"You threw the cup, too? Grace!"</p> + +<p>"Naturally I threw the cup. I am going on +the principle of doing exactly what she tells me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +to do; thus she may discover the unreason of +her conduct. Tu-whit! Yesterday she was displeased +with an embroidered muslin jacket, and +said she never wanted to see it again. I tore it +up; she was displeased. To-night she took a +dislike to my dress, and told me not to come +near her till morning. Behold me here; I think +it probable that at this moment she is raising the +house for me and desiring greatly to be rubbed. +These things are instructive to her. I have +put her to sleep every night by rubbing, and +now she will not sleep. Poor lady; so sad for +her!"</p> + +<p>All this was said quietly, pensively, with an +air of mild consideration. Margaret looked at +her, wondering. No one had ever crossed Mrs. +Peyton before. One "companion" after another +had been engaged, been tyrannized over +for a few weeks, and then dismissed. What +would be the effect of this opposite treatment? +Timid herself, she had always met the vagaries +of her beautiful friend with, at most, a gentle +protest. If matters were too bad, she stayed +away for a week, and was sure to find the lady +in her most winning mood at the end of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +time; but she had never attempted any more +severe measure than this.</p> + +<p>"Do you think—do you feel as if you were +getting hold of her at all, Grace?" she asked. +"She is really very fascinating, when she wants +to be."</p> + +<p>"I am not fascinated!" said Grace; and for +a moment the half-whimsical, half-reckless look, +which was her usual expression, gave way to one +that was stern enough. "Mrs. Peyton appears +to me to be a wholly selfish person; a thing +rarely met with in such entirety. I have promised +my Good Physician that I will try to rouse +her, and see if there is any scrap of woman left +inside this pretty shell; I am going to do my +best. I think it doubtful if there is, but I am +going to do my best."</p> + +<p>Peggy gazed at her with adoring eyes +and felt absolute assurance that Mrs. Peyton +would shortly be converted into an angel. +Did not Grace always do what she undertook +to do?</p> + +<p>With one of her sudden movements, Grace +turned to her, and put her hands on her shoulders. +"Behold my Innocent happy!" she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +"What of the other Owls, Babe? Do they hoot +happily, and flap friskily?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Grace, they want to hear from you so +much! The Snowy is really anxious. She is +afraid you are sick, or—or something. Do +write to her, dear; won't you?"</p> + +<p>"The Snowy," said Grace, "is one of the few +wholly satisfactory persons in the world. I have +an immense respect for the Snowy, as well as a +strong affection. If I could write to anybody, I +think it would be to her. It may even be done, +Innocent. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>"She was afraid—" Peggy hesitated.</p> + +<p>"She was afraid," said Grace, coolly, "that I +was going on the variety stage. Yes; but you +see, I did not. But I admit there are grounds—yes, +I will write, Innocent. And now I must +go," she added, rising. "I may come again, Margaret? +Tie a white ribbon on the window-tassel +when you do not want me. Good night!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, my dear, you are not going out in +that way!" cried Margaret, in distress. "Why +not go down-stairs and out of the door, like a +Christian?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing distinctively unchristian, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +hold, in going by way of the window," replied +Grace, her hand already on the sash. "Consider, +I pray you, the rapture of the one method, the +futile stupidity of the other. Enough! I am +gone."</p> + +<p>She slipped lightly over the sill and was gone, +leaving the others staring at each other. Peggy +ran to the window and looked after her. "She +is all right, Margaret!" she cried; for Margaret +was visibly distressed and alarmed. "The woodbine +is very thick and strong, and there is the +spout, too. There! She is down now, all safe. +Good night! oh, good night, dear Goat!"</p> + +<p>About this time, Hugh Montfort, having said +good night to his uncle and the two Merryweathers, +sauntered down the garden walk, for +one more turn, one more look at the night. It +was a wonderful night. The moon was full, +and Fernley lay bathed in a flood of silver light, +that seemed to transform the old brown house +into a fairy palace, stately and splendid. There +was no wind, and no sound broke the stillness; +yes, it might well be an enchanted palace, where +every living thing lay fast bound by some +mighty spell. The leaves drooped motionless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +from the branches; beyond the dark masses of +trees, the broad lawns lay in green and silver.</p> + +<p>"It's more like something Greek!" said +Hugh. "Tempe, or some such place. If a +dryad, now, were to come out from that great +tulip-tree—good heavens!"</p> + +<p>He stopped short, in the deep shadow of a +clump of chestnut-trees. Something moved, +behind the very tree he was looking at. A +figure came lightly out into the open; a woman's +figure, slight and supple, clad in shadowy white. +A dryad? No! the girl he had seen in the +summer-house. He knew the face, as it shone +upturned in the moonlight; knew the firm +mouth and chin, the blue eyes, the look of careless +power; seen once only, it was as if he had +known the face all his life.</p> + +<p>What was she doing? A smile lighted her +grave eyes suddenly. She extended her arms, +her face still raised to the moon. Her whole +figure, light as thistle-down, began to sway, to +drift hither and thither over the silver-green +lawn. Dancing, was she? It was no human +dance, surely; the name was too common for +this marvel of motion. A wave cresting and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +curling toward its break; a cloud blown lightly +along a summer sky by a gentle wind; a field of +grain, bending and rippling under the same wind. +Hugh thought of all these things, and rejected +each in turn, as unworthy of comparison to this, +the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He +watched her, as if in a dream of delight; each +moment it seemed that he must wake, and find +the lovely vision gone. It was too rare, too +perfect to be real. It seemed as if all the moonlight +in the world were drawn to this one spot, +to shine on that white figure, dancing, swaying, +hither and thither—</p> + +<p>Ah! it was over. She stopped; threw, it +seemed, some words upward toward the moon, +accompanying them with a wave of her hand. +Then she turned away, and passed slowly out of +sight, under the dark trees. As she went, she +began to sing; softly at first, a mere breath of +sound; but as she passed farther and farther on, +her song rang out clear and sweet; the voice +and the song that he had heard the night before, +in the field beyond the wall:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Trois anges sont venus ce soir,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">M'apportaient de bien belles choses!"</span><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR</h3> + + +<p>"Jerusalem!" said Philip Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"And Madagascar!" responded his twin +brother. "Well, what did I tell you, old +Towser?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; but last night, you see, I was +half-asleep, and didn't see it all. This is what I +call a room."</p> + +<p>Phil sat up in bed, and looked about the great +nursery, into which the early sun was shining +brightly.</p> + +<p>"The bigness of it!" he said, "if nothing +more. You could have quite a track round this, +do you know it? Most rooms are all walls; I +hate walls. Shove the furniture into the middle, +and chalk a six-foot track—hey? What +do you say?"</p> + +<p>"This!" replied Gerald, throwing a pillow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +with accurate aim. "Does it occur to your +arboreal, if not river-drift mind, that there are +people under this room? Heehaw! excuse me +for not sooner addressing you in your own language. +Here, belay that! I want to know +what you think of them all."</p> + +<p>"Jolly!" was Phil's brief but emphatic verdict. +But Gerald seemed to demand something +more. "Isn't Mr. Montfort the most corking +person you ever saw?"</p> + +<p>"Except three, I should say he was. That +lame chap is a corker, too. Reminds me a bit +of the Codger, I don't know why."</p> + +<p>"So he does!" said Gerald, eagerly. "I +didn't see it before. Queer stunt, too, because +she always makes me think of Hildegarde."</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Peggy? I don't—"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Who said anything about Miss +Peggy? Miss Montfort, of course."</p> + +<p>"They are all Miss Montforts. You mean +Miss Margaret? Well—I see what you mean. +She hasn't Hildegarde's beauty, though. Very +attractive, but—"</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean!" said Gerald, eagerly. +"There's something of that quiet way, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +takes hold of you and—oh, I didn't mean +that they would be taken for sisters. Look +here, Elderly Ape, was you thinking of getting +up, or should I bring his gruel, and feed him +wiz a 'poon, a pretty toddlekins?"</p> + +<p>"A pretty toddlekins will break your pretty +noddlekins," replied Philip. "Avast there, and +heave sponges!" And the conversation ended +in a grand splashing duet executed in two enormous +bath-tubs that stood in different corners of +the great room.</p> + +<p>It was a merry party that met at breakfast. +John Montfort looked round the table with +pleasure, and wondered how he had ever sat +here alone, year after year, when this kind of +thing was to be had, apparently for the asking. +Margaret's sweet face, opposite him, was radiant; +it struck Mr. Montfort that he had never +seen her look so pretty before. The delicate +rose-flush on her cheek, the light in her eyes, +an indescribable air of gaiety, of lightness, +about her whole figure—</p> + +<p>"Why, this is what she needed!" said Mr. +Montfort to himself. "The children were all +very well; I am all very well myself, for an old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +uncle, but children and old uncles are not all +that a lassie needs. Ah, well, it is all as it +should be. We remember, Rose!"</p> + +<p>Gerald, at Margaret's left hand, was talking +eagerly. If her face was radiant, his was +sparkling. For the first time in his life, it +is probable, he seemed to take little heed of +his breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the thunder-storm, Miss +Montfort? and the way that little chap ran +around the long corridor? He's going to make +a great runner some day. Cork—very nice +little fellow. You say he isn't here now? I'm +sorry! I wanted the Ape to see him."</p> + +<p>"The Ape?"</p> + +<p>"The Old Un. My brother, Long-leggius +Ridiculus. Christian name Philip, but what +has he done that I should call him that?"</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed. She did not fully understand, +but everything Gerald said seemed to her +funny. "What does he call you?" she asked. +"Or do you invent new names every day? Last +night I heard you calling him—what was it? +Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus?"</p> + +<p>"It might have been!" said Gerald, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +modest pride. "I can 'gleek upon occasion.' +I can also sling a syllable with the next man. +It is only at monosyllables that I draw the +line. When I call him Ape, I have to tack an +adjective to it, or things happen. Miss Montfort, +you don't know how glad I was to come. +It was awfully kind of Mr. Montfort to ask us. +I've always wanted to come again, and I didn't +know when I should have a chance. There—there +isn't any other place like this in the world, +I believe. I've told the Ape a lot about it, and +he was keen to see it, too. What a cork—that +is, what an extremely fine fellow your cousin +appears to be."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I ask," said Margaret; "is +'cork' a complimentary term?"</p> + +<p>Gerald blushed. "Why, you see," he said, +rather ruefully, "I made up my mind that I +would drop it when I came here. 'Corker,' +and 'corking'—well, it means that a person +is all right, don't you know? That he's awfully +jolly, and—and—corking, in short. It's the +thing fellows say nowadays. I get into the way +of it, and then I go home, and the Mater says +things to me. She doesn't like slang, and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +course you don't either, Miss Montfort. I'll try +not to do it again, truly I will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I don't mind that kind of slang!" +said Margaret; and she wondered at herself +even as she spoke. "It—it seems so funny, +somehow. I suppose when slang is really +funny—"</p> + +<p>She looked up and caught her uncle looking +at her with an expression of amusement. She +blushed in her turn, stammered, and took refuge +behind her coffee-urn.</p> + +<p>Meantime Peggy and Philip had fallen deep +in conversation. He was the brother of Gertrude +Merryweather, the beloved Snowy Owl +of Peggy's happiest school-days; that was +enough for Peggy. She was used to boys and +brothers, and felt none of the shyness that +often made Margaret's tongue trip and stammer +in spite of her two years' advantage. Peggy +was full of eager questionings:</p> + +<p>"How is she looking? dear lovely thing! +Do you think she will go to college this fall? +Oh, do try to make her! I do so want to have +her back again,—near us, I mean. The Fluffy +enters this fall, you know; the Snowy ought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +come, too. Do try to make her, won't you, +Mr. Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>Phil looked grave. "Said the kangaroo to +the duck, this requires a little reflection!" he +said. "The child Toots has her good points, as +you observe, Miss Montfort. She is a rather +nice child, and we like to have her at home. +She has been at this old school three years, and +I don't see the good of sisters if they are somewhere +else all the time. Not that I should wish +to stand in the way of the child Toots; but you +see, Bell is off, too, and the Mater has been +having things the matter with her,—rheumatism +and that,—and the child Toots is useful at +home,—uncommon useful she is."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but—of course I'm aw—dreadfully +sorry your mother isn't well; but—but Gertrude +wants to come, doesn't she? Oh, well, +I shall hope it will be all right. And oh! what +do you think, Mr. Merryweather? The most +astonishing thing happened last night. I must +write and tell Gertrude all about it. The Horny +is near here."</p> + +<p>"The Horny? Not—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Grace Wolfe. Think of it! Do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +know her? Well, of course Gertrude has told +you all about her. She is the most wonderful +person in the world, and she is living close by +here, taking care of some one,—you know she +means to be a nurse. You know how wonderful +she was when that poor girl was so sick at school—and +she has been staying at Doctor Flower's, +and he persuaded her to come and take care of +this lady. You must see her,—I want everybody +to see her. She isn't like anybody else, +you know. Why, just when you look at her +you feel that; I don't know what it is,—I can't +explain,—but it's there. And then her voice! +When she sings, it's—it's like magic, somehow. +Oh, dear! I wish I could express myself; I never +know how to say things."</p> + +<p>"You are saying them beautifully!" said +gallant Philip. "Besides, of course, Toots has +told me a good deal about your wonderful friend. +Does she still go climbing all about, disdaining +doors and stairs, and using windows instead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hush!" said Peggy. "I don't know +whether we are to speak of it or not, but—she +came up the wall, and in at our window last +night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did. Don't tell anybody, because +she might not like it. She fluttered in like a +bird, and stayed awhile, and then fluttered out +again. And then—we heard her singing in +the distance as she went back, and really and +truly, it seemed like fairy music."</p> + +<p>Something made Peggy look up at this moment, +and she caught Hugh Montfort's eyes +fixed on her with so intent a gaze that she +stumbled and blushed, and thought she had +said something wrong. "Don't ask me anything +about it," she murmured to her neighbor. +"Perhaps—they may not like to have people +climb up the walls here; I wouldn't get Grace +into trouble for twenty worlds."</p> + +<p>"Hugh," said Mr. Montfort, "I am going to +get you to do the honors of the garden and +stables to these young gentlemen, as I am busy +this morning. The girls have a dozen plans, no +doubt; but perhaps Peggy and Jean would like +to go with you and see the puppies, while Margaret +sees to her housekeeping. How does that +suit you all?"</p> + +<p>Every one acquiesced in the arrangement,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +and, as they went out into the garden, Peggy +managed to slip beside her brother.</p> + +<p>"What did I say that was wrong, Hugh? +You were looking at me as if I had done all +kinds of things. Would Uncle John mind her +climbing up the wall, do you think? She +couldn't possibly hurt it; she is light as a +feather; and Margaret didn't say anything +about her not doing it again."</p> + +<p>A faint color crept into Hugh's brown cheek.</p> + +<p>"My dear little Peggy," he said, "you must +not be so imaginative. It is a new trait in +you. What possible objection could there be +to a young lady climbing up the wall if she +enjoys it? It seemed—a little unusual, I suppose, +and so I was interested. Was I indiscreet? +I hardly supposed you would be having +confidences with young Merryweather quite so +soon."</p> + +<p>"Hugh, don't be ridiculous. Then it's all +right, and I am so glad! Thank you, dear."</p> + +<p>She was springing away, but Hugh called her +back.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Peggy. This—this friend +of yours seems to be a remarkable person. Has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +she other accomplishments besides climbing? +Did I hear you speak of singing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hugh, I wish you could hear her sing! +You might have heard her last night, if you had +only been out. It was full moon, and the moon +makes her mad, she says. Anyhow, when the +moon is out she is wilder than ever, fuller of—whatever +it is that she is full of; I don't know, +something like a spirit, or a bird. Once I saw +her dance in the moonlight, and I shall never +forget it as long as I live."</p> + +<p>"No more shall I," said Hugh, under his +breath. "Thank you, Peggy," he said aloud. +"Don't let me keep you, my dear; or were you +coming with us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, Hugh; I want to do so +many things, all at once. I want to show Jean +the house, and the garden, and the summer-houses, +and—oh! oh, you darlings! you beauties! +Hugh, do look at these lovely duckies!"</p> + +<p>The "lovely duckies" were Nip and Tuck, +who came leaping and dancing up the walk, +wagging and sneezing, with every demonstration +of frantic joy.</p> + +<p>"Which is which? Nip, oh, you dear! Give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +a paw! Do they know how to give a paw, +Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"They know how to fetch," said Hugh. +"Here, Tuck! here, boys! What have I +got?"</p> + +<p>He held up a stick; straightway the dogs +went mad, and yelled and danced, sneezed and +yapped, like wild creatures. "Fetch!" said +Hugh, throwing the stick. Together the puppies +flashed off in pursuit; fell upon the stick +and each other, and rolled over and over, still +in frenzied voice and motion; finally came to +an understanding, and, taking each an end in +his mouth, came cantering abreast up to Hugh, +and, laying the stick at his feet, looked up and +asked for more, as plainly as ever did Oliver +Twist. Here was a pleasant amusement for young +people. The grave Hugh and the gay Merryweathers, +Peggy and Jean, all became absorbed +in picking up sticks and throwing them. There +was no end to the puppies' enthusiasm, apparently; +they yelled, and rushed, and yelled and +rushed again; and when Margaret came out an +hour afterward, anxious lest her guests should +find time hang heavy on their hands, she found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +one and all flushed and breathless, hurling sticks +and stones, and making almost half as much +noise as the dogs themselves. At sight of Margaret, +cool and pearly in her white dress, Gerald +and Peggy dropped their sticks, and looked +abashed; but Hugh called to her merrily: +"Margaret, they are making great progress. I +think my pupil has got farther than yours, +though. Miss Margaret and I are training them +for a prize contest," he added, turning to +Gerald. "This is an extension of their usual +practice, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" said Gerald, much relieved. "I +was afraid she would think—I didn't know +whether she would approve," he concluded, +somewhat lamely.</p> + +<p>It <i>was</i> amazing. It was rather as if the +Venus of Milo had begun to sing light opera, +Gerald thought; but after all, how much pleasanter +if she should, than to stand there all day +and wonder how she was going to eat her breakfast +without any arms. With this shocking +reflection, Master Gerald betook himself once +more to the throwing of sticks, and the sport +went on till Margaret called the puppies off, declaring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +that they would be too tired for their +afternoon run.</p> + +<p>"She takes care of everything, you see!" +said Gerald, aside to his brother. "All without +any fuss; that's just like Hilda, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Phil. "Appears to be a corker!"</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk so much slang, +Phil!" said Gerald. "What kind of word is +that to use in speaking of Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>Philip looked up in amazement, and saw his +brother flushed, and evidently annoyed in +earnest.</p> + +<p>"Well, may I be split and buttered!" said +Phil.</p> + +<p>"I wish you were!" said Gerald, forcing a +laugh. "Come along, and don't be an ass!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>GRACE'S SYSTEM</h3> + + +<p>"Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Peyton."</p> + +<p>"Is that door shut? lock it, will you? and—just +go and look out of the window, please. No +one there? Thank you!"</p> + +<p>She sank back on her pillows with a sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Margaret, soothingly. +"What troubles you, dear Mrs. Peyton?"</p> + +<p>"I am frightened!" said Emily Peyton.</p> + +<p>"Frightened?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am afraid of that girl, Margaret."</p> + +<p>"What girl? You cannot possibly mean +Grace?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton glanced around her. Evidently +she did mean Grace.</p> + +<p>"She behaves so!" she said, in a low voice. +"I don't think she is in her right mind, to begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +with; it is terrible to be with a person who +may break out into madness at any moment."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Margaret, "you are absolutely +and wholly mistaken. Grace is as sane +as I am. She is one of the sanest persons I +have ever known, it seems to me. Of course +she is singular—eccentric, if you like. But +what has she been doing, to disturb you so?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton glanced around her again, with +an apprehensive glance. "Well!" she said, +"I—I suppose I may as well tell you, Margaret. +I have been ill so long, I may have become—a +little unreasonable. There is nobody +who cares; I never saw any reason why I should +be reasonable. Having to lie here, it is a pity +if I may not have my own way, don't you think +so? I have had it, at any rate; I don't say +that it has always been a sensible way; I detest +sensible things and people. I can't imagine +how I have endured you so long. I should not, +if you were not pretty and prim."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Margaret, soberly.</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me! This has been on my +mind for two weeks, and I want to get rid of +it. There is nobody else I can tell. Doctor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +Flower, like a veritable fiend, after sending me +this firebrand, goes off to Europe. A physician +should be indicted for going to Europe. Well—I +don't know what to tell you, or where to +begin. She—she frightens me, I say. I never +know what she is going to do next. Yesterday—I +felt wretchedly yesterday, Margaret; I was +in acute pain all day. I suppose I was pretty +impatient. I—well, I threw something out of +the window in a pet,—my amethyst rope it was,—and +she stood and looked at me quietly, as if +she were taking notes of my appearance. I +couldn't bear it; I told her to go after it. Just +a little impatient cry, it was. My dear, in an +instant she was out of the window. Gone, out +of sight like a flash. I shrieked; no one heard +me. I—you will not believe this, Margaret—I +got out of bed, and dragged myself to the +window, expecting to see her dead and shattered +at the bottom. There she stood, cool as crystal, +shaking the leaves from her dress. She looked +up and saw me, and if ever I saw an elfish look—do +you believe in witchcraft, Margaret? my +nurse did; she told me some strange tales when +I was a child."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No need of witchcraft in this case," said +Margaret, smiling. "Grace is as active as a +cat, and her special delight is to climb up and +down walls. There is a grape-vine under this +window, isn't there? That would be quite +enough for the Goat, as they called her at +school."</p> + +<p>"That isn't all," said Mrs. Peyton. "She's +not right, I tell you; not canny, as Nurse used +to say. You may laugh, Margaret Montfort. I +tell you, lying here year after year, one gets to +thinking all kinds of things. I could tell you—who +knows the old woman was not right +after all?—listen to this. Yesterday, this very +yesterday, she was standing there by the mantel-piece, +talking as quietly as we are talking +now. Suddenly, without a word, down she +falls in a swoon, or trance, or something unearthly. +I had let the maids go out; we two +were alone in the house. There she lay, and I +thought she was dead. I got up again! No +one knows what it cost me, Margaret. I have +forgotten how to walk; I merely dragged myself +across to where she lay. She was breathing; +I could not see that she was paler than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +usual—she never has any color, you know. I +called and screamed; I raved and wept, I believe; +you cannot fancy how terrible it was, that +living, breathing form, lying there, the lips +almost smiling, but no sign, no twitching of an +eyelid, only the beating of the heart, to tell me +that she was not dead. Hush! do you know +the story of Christy Moran? My nurse's grandmother +used to know her. She was—I don't +know what she was—but she used to do this +very thing. They would find her sitting in her +chair, breathing, but without speech or motion, +and afterward they would hear of some devilish +act or other, committed at that very hour, in +some distant town or village, by a figure wearing +her likeness. Don't laugh! don't laugh! +I tell you, we don't know everything in this +civilization that we talk so much about. I +tried to say a prayer, Margaret,—I used to +say them regularly,—but—and I had hardly +begun before she opened her eyes and smiled at +me like a child. 'Did you ever hear of catalepsy?' +she says, and she went out of the room +without another word, and left me to get back +to bed as best I could."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret was silent, not knowing what to +say. She had no doubt that Grace was acting +upon some theory of her own, and was playing +these wild pranks in the hope of rousing her +patient to action and exercise. Certainly, to +get Mrs. Peyton out of bed twice in two days +was no small feat; still, Margaret's gentle mind +shrank from the thought of forcing one so frail, +so enfeebled by years of invalidism, into sudden +activity which might be injurious, or even fatal +to her. She could not betray Grace—what +should she say? But there was no need of her +saying anything, for Mrs. Peyton went on, hurriedly, +hardly glancing at her auditor. Evidently +it was a relief to her to free her mind.</p> + +<p>"Why don't I send her away, you may +ask. Margaret, I ask myself the same question +twenty times a day. My dear, she is too +fascinating! She interests me so! Have you +heard her sing, and tell stories? I have not +been so interested for years. She makes me +restless, I tell you; she makes me think of +things I had forgotten, or that I said good-by +to years and years ago. Look! she sits down +on the floor here, beside the bed—in the night,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +often, when I cannot sleep, and she has been +rubbing me—that is another reason why I do +not let her go, Margaret; her touch is like healing +balm; there is magic in it, I tell you. She +sits down there, with her long hair falling all +about her, in the moonlight, looking like nothing +earthly, and she talks—or chants, rather,—there +isn't anything like it, so I don't know +what to call it—about foreign countries. She +has never seen them, or she says she never has. +That is a little matter to her; she knows all +about them, twenty times as much as I do, +though I used to travel till I hated the sight +of a railway or a steamer. She tells me things +about Sicily, and Norway, and the Hebrides,—old +Icelandic legends,—about Burnt Njal, and +those people; she makes me want to see the +places, actually. There are plenty of places I +have not seen. She says Iceland is a flower-garden +in summer. Margaret, don't laugh at +what I am going to say!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am not laughing, dear Mrs. +Peyton."</p> + +<p>"She says—this girl says—she thinks I +could—get up. Get up and do things, I mean,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +like other people. Did you ever hear of such +nonsense?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton laughed; but she looked eagerly +at Margaret, and there was something in her +eyes that had never been there before.</p> + +<p>Margaret leaned over her, and kissed the +beautiful forehead. "I am sure you could!" +she said; and at the moment she did feel sure. +Something of Grace's spirit seemed to pass into +her, and she felt a hope, a confidence, that +had never come into her mind before. Why +not? Why should it not be? Mrs. Peyton was +still in middle life; she ought to have years of +life before her. Why might she not be roused, +be taught over again how to live, and to enjoy +the good and glorious earth? Margaret's eyes +kindled.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you could!" she repeated. "Let +us try! Let me help Grace, and let us all try +our very best, dear Mrs. Peyton. Just think how +wonderful it would be to get well; to go about +again, and be alive among live people. Oh, my +dear, let us try!"</p> + +<p>But the lady's mood changed. In a flash, +even as Margaret was gazing at her with eager,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +loving eyes,—eyes in which stood tears of affection +and anxiety,—she changed. The mocking +smile crept back to her lips, the light of +interest died from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" she said. "Little goose, what do +you know about life and live people? It was +to get away from them that I took to my bed, +do you hear? There, go away! I have been +talking great nonsense; forget all about it! +Sick folks often talk nonsense. Give me something +to play with, and go away! I had a new +toy yesterday, an amber ball. It's in the top +drawer. Ah! isn't that a beauty? Give it to +me! See, how smooth and cool it is, Margaret! +Do you think an amber necklace would be becoming +to me? I can wear yellow, you know; +blondes of my type rarely can, but it always +suited me. Do you remember a story about +the Amber Gods? It is one of the few stories +I ever cared for. To-morrow I'll order a +set of amber jewelry, bracelets and necklace, +and—"</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly, seeing the grave compassion +in Margaret's eyes.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.png" width="310" height="400" alt=""SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW BRANCH."" title=""SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW BRANCH."" /> +<span class="caption">"SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW BRANCH."</span> +</div> + +<p>"Don't speak to me!" she cried, angrily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +"You are thinking—I know what you are +thinking—that I cannot wear necklaces in +bed. You think I am a wretched, helpless, +faded old woman. I hate you! Go away!" +and Margaret went.</p> + +<p>As she passed along the garden-walk with +bent head, musing soberly enough, something +struck her lightly on the head,—a cherry, +which fell at her feet. She looked up, and +saw Grace sitting on a broad, low branch.</p> + +<p>"Come up!" said the Goat.</p> + +<p>Margaret smiled, and shook her head. "My +dear Grace, I never climbed a tree in my life. +I should not know where to begin."</p> + +<p>"Time you learned!" said Grace, gravely. +"There is no knowing when the race will +return to arboreal habits. Come, Margaret, I +want you!"</p> + +<p>Margaret hesitated, and was lost. She looked +about, half fearing, half hoping that somebody +was in sight. No! no gardener came with his +watering-can, no boy with his wheelbarrow. +She turned back, to meet once more the compelling +glance, and see the hand stretched out to +help her. How it was accomplished, Margaret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +never knew, but, after a breathless moment, she +found herself seated on the branch, too, clinging +fast to the rugged bark, and not daring to look +below.</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Grace, composedly. "See, +now, what good cherries these are! I have permission +from Madame to kill myself with them, +and am doing my best. They are white oxhearts, +the finest cherry that grows!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I daren't let go my hold of the +branch," said poor Margaret; "and my head +is so dizzy. Dear Grace, how shall I ever +get down again? Won't you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Not now! Now it is necessary that you +should stay for a space, and learn to accept this, +as other situations. Begin gradually to look +down and about you. Fix your eye on that +apple-tree, the one with the hump-back; then +let your eyes travel slowly, slowly, over the +ground, till they come here, under our feet. +There! you see it is easy. Is the dizziness +gone?"</p> + +<p>"It is certainly much better. I think perhaps, +in a little while, I may get used to it, but +I am quite sure I never shall like it. Why do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +you like to climb so, Grace? Why is it more +comfortable to sit in a tree than on a pleasant, +safe seat on the grass?"</p> + +<p>Grace shrugged her shoulders. "Who can +say?" she said. "I have always supposed +that the soul of my grandam inhabited a bird. +Shakespeare! And you know I am an owl myself +in regular, if not in good, standing. What +would you? It is my nature. And how do we +find the Patient to-day? Did she tell you that +she left her bed twice yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Grace, it frightens me, all this wild +work. Are you sure what you are doing?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that there is nothing the matter +with this lady. I think she can be brought +back to health by foul means, but not by fair. +I think that in this case the end justifies the +means. <i>Voilà!</i>"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked at her earnestly; she met a +gaze so full, so clear, so brave, that her own +spirit rose to meet it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Grace held out her hand. "Come!" +she said. "Trust me, Margaret! I am not a +hobgoblin, though I may pose as one now and +then. Trust me; and—by and by—try to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +love me a little, for I loved you before ever I +saw you."</p> + +<p>Margaret took the slender hand and pressed +it cordially. "I will trust you!" she said. "I +have doubted, Grace, I confess; doubted and +feared; but now I shall not fear any more. +Only—oh, my dear, don't frighten her more +than you have to. She really thinks you are—not +right; and some of the things she told me +were certainly rather terrifying. That trance, +or whatever it was—well—what was it, +Grace?"</p> + +<p>Grace laughed, a laugh so merry and clear +that the robins left off eating cherries to see +what the sound might be. "What was it? +My child, it was nothing. I fell down, I shut +my eyes—again, <i>voilà!</i> Her mind was prepared +for the marvellous, and she found it. +Nothing simpler than that."</p> + +<p>"But you said something about—catalepsy! +the very sound of that word always frightens +me, because of a story I read once. I don't +wonder it frightened Mrs. Peyton."</p> + +<p>"I asked her if she had ever heard of it. A +simple question! Apparently she had. Come,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +let us eat cherries, and strive to approximate +the lettuce. Do you feel any green crinkles +in your veins yet? And how is the Innocent to-day? +I love that child."</p> + +<p>"Dear Peggy! I left her trying to teach +Tuck to keep a biscuit on his nose while she +counted twenty. When I left, he could not get +beyond ten, when it was devoured with yelps of +joy. But I have no doubt Peggy will succeed +in time; she has plenty of patience, and plenty +of perseverance."</p> + +<p>Grace nodded sagely. "Plenty of patience and +plenty of perseverance!" she repeated. "Great +qualities, Margaret. I wonder if I have them. +I am going to find out. Now—who is the tall +person who is lame, and sits in a summer-house?"</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed. "He doesn't sit in a +summer-house all the time," she said. "That is +Peggy's brother, Hugh Montfort. I want you to +know him, Grace; he is so delightful; I know +you will be friends. Come over to tea this evening, +won't you? Mrs. Peyton promised me you +should; you know we have been trying for you +ever since Peggy came. Do come! Uncle John<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +is planning something for us; he will not tell +me what, but it is sure to be something delightful. +Promise that you will come; and then you +must really help me get down, my dear, for the +girls will be wondering where I am."</p> + +<p>"Your hands here—so! Let yourself swing +clear—don't be afraid; hang still—now drop +easily! There! was that so very dreadful? +Good-by, cool, green, lovely one! I will come +to-night; good-by!"</p> + +<p>"What will Rita say," Margaret questioned +herself as she took her way homeward, "when I +write her that I have been climbing cherry-trees, +and getting down from them without a ladder?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE MYSTERIES OF FERNLEY</h3> + + +<p>"Now, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be tormenting, sir! You know that +you promised us a new Mystery of Fernley, if +we would all be good. We have been good; +virtue shines from every one of us, doesn't it, +Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"My eyes are dazzled," replied her cousin. +"Most of it seems to come from the feminine +side of the house, though, I fear. All that the +boys and I have done has been to abstain from +actual crime."</p> + +<p>"Oh, cherries!" said Phil.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Up into the tree of cherry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who should climb but little Jerry?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Pooh! pooh!" said Mr. Montfort. "What +are cherries for except to eat, I should like to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +know? Yes, you have all been good children, +and it is true that I promised—something. +Sit down now, all of you, and I will tell you +the story of the Lost Casket."</p> + +<p>The young people clustered about him, sitting +on the floor, on cushions and footstools, on anything +rather than the prosaic seat of an ordinary +chair. Mr. Montfort looked around on their +bright, eager faces. Margaret sat next him, +his own Margaret, fair and sweet in her white +dress, with the bright, joyous look that had +grown so habitual to her of late. Next to her +was Gerald Merryweather; it struck Mr. Montfort +suddenly that Gerald Merryweather usually +was beside Margaret. Beyond them again, +Peggy and Jean, with Phil between them; Phil, +who as yet preferred his sister Gertrude's society +to that of any girl he had ever seen. At +the other side of the ring, Grace Wolfe, sitting a +little apart, with the curious air of solitariness +that seemed to surround her even in company. +Hugh Montfort was not far off, though, and his +deep brown eyes were gazing at her intently.</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time," Mr. Montfort began, +and was greeted with a chorus of disappointment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +"Oh, Uncle John! You said it was +true."</p> + +<p>"Not a fairy story this time, sir, please; give +us the real thing!"</p> + +<p>"Will you be quiet, you impetuous creatures?" +asked Uncle John. "It is true, so far +as I know. And if you interrupt me again—"</p> + +<p>"We will not!"</p> + +<p>"Hear us swear!" cried the young people.</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time, then, some hundred and +fifty years ago, there lived here at Fernley Mr. +Peter Montfort, the great-great-grandfather of +some of you. He was a worthy gentleman, +with a pretty taste for engravings; that Raphael +Morghen print of the Transfiguration, Margaret, +that you are so fond of, is from his collection. +He travelled about Europe a good deal, buying +engravings; that is the only thing I know +about him, except the fact that he married +twice; and on this marrying twice hangs our +story. Listen now, and you shall hear. His +first wife (she was a Miss Rhinefels) died, leaving +him with an only daughter, Christina Montfort. +The only time the name Christina appears, +I believe, in the family annals. At the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +of her mother's death Christina was a woman +grown; a handsome person, to judge from her +miniature, and of strong feelings. She kept +house for her father, and expected to do so all +her days, as an early disappointment had disinclined +her for marriage. When, after a couple +of years, her father, being then a man of seventy, +brought home a wife of twenty-five, Christina +was, not unnaturally, incensed. She refused +to speak to the newcomer, shut herself up in her +own apartments, and had a special servant to +wait upon her. This uncomfortable state of +things continued for some time, when she sickened +of some acute distemper, and died in a short +time. She possessed some fine jewels, which she +had inherited from her mother, and she was +heard to say repeatedly that her stepmother +should never lay a finger on one of them. It is +supposed that she, or her servant acting under +her orders, hid the casket containing these +jewels somewhere in this house; at all events, +they were never found after her death, and have +never, it is said, been seen to this day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John! but has any one looked +for them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear Peggy, every one has looked for +them. I cannot tell you how many Montfort +ladies, in all these generations, have fretted +their nerves and worn out their finger-nails, +hunting for this Lost Casket. I specially requested +your Aunt Faith, Margaret, not to +mention it to you or your cousins when you +were here together. I had seen so many vain +searches, and heard of so many heart-burnings, +in connection with it, that I thought it best to +defer the information till—till later. This, +however, seems a very favorable time. You +are all too sensible, girls, to be unhappy if you +do not find it. To tell the truth, I used to +hunt for it when I was a boy. But you can +have a grand game of hide and seek, with an +object, imaginary or actual, at the end of it; +and I wish you a merry game, young people, +and I return to my conversation with the Sieur +de Montaigne."</p> + +<p>He was surrounded in an instant, kissed, +caressed, and thanked till he declared his life +was in danger, and threatened to take up the +hearth-broom in self-defence; finally they +trooped off, to hold a consultation in the hall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.png" width="267" height="400" alt=""ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD PORTRAITS."" title=""ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD PORTRAITS."" /> +<span class="caption">"ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD PORTRAITS."</span> +</div><p>"Shall we divide our forces and go in small +parties?" inquired Hugh, looking at Grace.</p> + +<p>"I say we go just as it happens," said Peggy. +"I think that will be much more exciting."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will," said Hugh, becoming resigned, +as he saw Peggy link her arm in Grace's. +"Come on, then, girls and boys! Suppose we +begin with the garret; Margaret has been promising +to show me its wonders ever since I +came."</p> + +<p>On the second landing they paused to salute +the old portraits, and Hugh must point out this +or that one that had a familiar look.</p> + +<p>"This might be Margaret's self, I always +think, Miss Wolfe; this sweet-faced lady in the +silvery green gown. See! she has the same +clear, quiet, true eyes, and her hair is the same +shade of soft brown. A lovely face."</p> + +<p>"Are you looking at the Sea-green Me?" +asked Margaret over his shoulder. "Our dear +Rita liked it, and used to call it her Sea-green +Margaret. But come now and look at the +glorious Regina, who actually has a look of +Rita herself. And I want Grace to see Hugo, +too."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>She passed on, and Grace was about to follow, +but Hugh detained her. "Just one moment," +he said, speaking low. "This is a fine collection, +Miss Wolfe, but I see no portrait of the +Wood-nymph."</p> + +<p>"The Wood-nymph?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Do you not know that a dryad haunts +this garden of Fernley? Sometimes she is not +seen, only heard in the dusk, singing magical +songs, that fill whoever hears them with a +strange feeling akin to madness. But sometimes—sometimes +she leaves her tree, and +comes out in the moonlight, and—dances—"</p> + +<p>He paused. Grace had started, and now +looked up at him with a curious expression, in +which anger, mirth, and fear seemed struggling +for the upper hand. Before she could reply, a +terrific scream rang through the gallery, startling +the whole party. Turning, they saw Jean, +who had run on before the rest in her eagerness +to explore, standing at the farther end +of the corridor, with open mouth and staring +eyes, the very image of terror.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," cried Margaret, running +toward her, "what is it? Are you hurt?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it, Jeanie?" said Peggy, who was +the first to reach her sister, and already had +her in her arms. "Jean, don't gasp so! You +have seen something; is that it? Margaret, +what did I always tell you?"</p> + +<p>Jean nodded, still gasping, and clung to +Peggy with eager, trembling hands. "Oh!" +she moaned. "Peggy, save me! take me +away! the closet; oh, the closet!"</p> + +<p>"What closet, dear? This one? Why, this +is the broom closet. There is nothing here to +frighten you, Jean."</p> + +<p>"The woman!" murmured Jean. "The +dreadful dead woman! Peggy, I saw her eyes, +and her long hair. Oh, I shall die, I know I +shall!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you poor lamb!" cried Margaret, laughing +in spite of her compassion. She hurried to +the closet and flung the door wide open. "It +is only Mrs. Body!" she said. "Come and look +again, Jean; it is the lay-figure, dear, nothing +else in the world."</p> + +<p>"Lay figure?" faltered Jean, still trembling +and hanging back.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the model. Grandmother Montfort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +used to paint a great deal, and she had this +creature made to stand for the figure. Come +and look at it, dear child."</p> + +<p>Gently and persuasively she drew the trembling +girl forward; the others all pressed behind +her.</p> + +<p>There on the floor of the closet lay a figure +which might at the first glance have alarmed a +stouter heart than fifteen-year-old Jean's,—the +figure of a woman, scantily draped in white. +The arms were stretched out stiffly, the face, +with its staring eyeballs, over which fell some +lank wisps of hair, was turned toward the door. +No wonder Jean was terrified.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry!" said Margaret. "The +children, Basil and Susan D., found her in the +garret last winter. They begged to be allowed +to have her for a plaything, so they kept her in +here, and had great fun with her. Her name +is Mrs. Body, but she can take any part, from +Ophelia to Simple Susan. She took tea with us +once, when Uncle John was away, and she behaved +beautifully; so you see you really must +not mind her, Jean, dear."</p> + +<p>"It's no wonder she was frightened, though,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +said Gerald. "My right arm cleaves to the +roof of my mouth, even now that I know who +she is. Mrs. Body, my respects to you, ma'am, +and I desire you of less acquaintance."</p> + +<p>While they were all laughing over Mrs. Body, +and commenting upon her various points, Gerald +slipped round to Margaret's side.</p> + +<p>"Miss Montfort," he said, speaking in a low +tone, "do you remember the roarer?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do, Mr. Merryweather. Do you +know, you never showed me the place. You +had to go away the next day, you remember."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I was thinking," said +Gerald. "I have never forgotten that burning +moment when Mrs. Cook and I foregathered in +the dark. I was thinking, what if the Lost +Casket should happen to be somewhere about +that place in the wall? and anyhow, it would +be fun to explore it, and I promised to show it +to you, and I like to keep my promises, because +virtue is my only joy. Won't you come with +me now, and let the rest go on? Awfully nice +in the garret, I am sure, but—won't you come, +please?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh," said Margaret, "that would be delightful! +But—it is quite dark, isn't it? and +they have all the candles."</p> + +<p>"All except this," said Gerald, drawing a +slender cylinder from his pocket. "Electric +candle; you have seen them, of course. I +brought it with me, intending some such exploration, +if permitted. I ran up and got it, at +Mr. Montfort's first word of this search. Come! +the down-stairs hall. This way; oh, please, +this way."</p> + +<p>Margaret hesitated, looking doubtfully at +him. "I—don't know if I ought," she +said. "I should like it of all things, if I +thought—"</p> + +<p>"Don't think!" said Gerald, hastily. "Great +mistake to think; wastes the tissues awfully. +Action first, thought afterward! aphorism! Or +if you must indulge in the baneful pursuit, think +how much poor Jerry wants you. Poor Jerry! +child of misfortune!"</p> + +<p>"Is that the way you get everything you +want?" said Margaret, laughing, as she followed +him half-reluctantly down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"One way; there are others. This is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +best, since it procures me your company. See, +now! in this niche here, behind the big picture!"</p> + +<p>He passed his hand along a panel; it swung +back, revealing blackness.</p> + +<p>Margaret stared. "I never knew that was +a door!" she said. "Mr. Merryweather, do +you know, I think the person who built this +house must have been a smuggler, a magician, +and a detective, all in one."</p> + +<p>"Fine combination!" said Gerald. "I should +like to have known the old codg—I mean +gentleman. No deep mystery here, though, +beyond the secret door. He did love secret +doors, that ancestor of yours. He may have +been an architect, and have thought door-handles +unsightly, as they are. But see!"</p> + +<p>They were now standing in a deep recess, and +he waved his candle to and fro. "This would +appear to have been originally used as a kind +of store-room, or drying-room. See those hooks; +probably for hams—if not for hanging," he +added. "If you prefer tragedy, Miss Montfort, +you shall have it. There is room for ten persons +to hang here, without touching. Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +ghastly upturned faces, their blood-stained robes, +glimmering spectral white in the—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" said Margaret. "You really +frighten me. Yes, they must be for hams; now +I think of it, I have heard Frances speak of the +drying-closet. This wall is warm; it must be +close against the kitchen chimney."</p> + +<p>"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Gerald. "Here are +steps, Miss Montfort. Stone steps, leading down +to a trap-door. Shall I help you down, or—no, +I will go alone. When I open the door, a +hollow groan will be heard, and the clank of +iron fetters. Would you rather have me descend +to Hades with a loud squeak, or shall a headless +spectre arise, grinning and—beg pardon! anatomy +at fault; grinning requires a head. That's +the way! my genius is always checked in its +soaring flight, and pulled back to earth by idiot +facts."</p> + +<p>Running on thus, Gerald descended the stone +steps, Margaret following to their top, timidly. +Sure enough, there was a trap-door at the +bottom, with a ring in it; a perfectly orthodox +trap-door, suitable for the Arabian Nights or +anything else. Gerald took hold of the ring,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +prepared for a vigorous pull; then paused, and +looked at his companion. "I hear voices!" he +said. "Hark!"</p> + +<p>They listened. A low murmur came up from +below; the voices were muffled, by distance +or intervening substances, and could not be +distinguished.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think we'd better open it?" +said Margaret, who had such a wholesome awe +of the Mysteries of Fernley that she was +prepared for anything in the way of the +marvellous.</p> + +<p>"That is what I think!" said Gerald, cheerfully. +"That's what it was made for, you see. +A door that does not fulfil its destiny might just +as well be something else, skittles, or a pump, +or—other things. Now this—"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he gave a vigorous pull; the +door lifted, but at the same instant the candle +slipped from his hand, and fell rattling into +some unseen depth below, leaving them in +blank darkness. Margaret uttered a cry of +alarm. "Don't fall! Oh, pray be careful, +Mr. Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Gerald. "Stay just where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +you are, for a moment, while I explore this—aperture. +Ha! the steps continue. You don't +mind if I leave you in the dark for just a +minute, Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>Margaret did not mind, once assured that her +companion was not engaged in the congenial +pursuit of breaking his neck. She began feeling +about her in the darkness, darkness so +thick it was like black velvet, she said to +herself. She found the wall; it was warm, +as she said; she began passing her hand mechanically +along the bricks, counting them.</p> + +<p>A cheerful voice came up from below: "I +have found the doughnuts—good ones!—and +the—seem to be—yes! sweet pickles. Corking! +And—now you've done it, my son! Jam, +by all that's adhesive! Put my whole hand in. +Jerusalem and Mad—"</p> + +<p>At this instant there was a sound as of a door +thrown violently open; a flood of light filled +the place; light, and an angry voice.</p> + +<p>"Who's this here in my pantry? Come out +of that, ye rascal, before I set the dogs on +ye!"</p> + +<p>Gerald Merryweather uttered a yell of delight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +"Destiny!" he shouted. "My fate +cries out. Quits, Mrs. Cook, quits! Come to +my arms!"</p> + +<p>And Margaret, peeping fearfully down +through the trap-door, beheld her guest waving +one hand, a crimson one, in the air, and +with the other embracing the ample form of +Frances the cook; while behind them the grave +Elizabeth looked wide-eyed, shading her candle +with her hand.</p> + +<p>"For shame, sir!" said Frances. "Do behave, +now, Mr. Gerald! I never see such a bold boy +since born I was."</p> + +<p>"No, no! not bold; don't say bold, Mrs. +Cook! Witness my blushing eyes, my tearful +cheek, my stammering nose! Hush, listen, +there's a good soul. Your doughnuts are food +for the gods; also for Jerry. Poor Jerry; never +had enough doughnuts in his life. You weep +for him; let him dry the starting tear!"</p> + +<p>Drawing out his pocket-handkerchief, he +gravely applied it to Frances's eyes and went +on. "We are looking for the Lost Casket, +Miss Montfort and I. If you can help us to it, +Mrs. Cook,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"I'll dress thee all in pongo silk,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And crown thee with a bowl of milk;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And hail thee, till my last breath passes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The queen of sugar and molasses.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>A poet, as you observe. Nothing to what I +can do, give me time and a yard measure. Now +tell me—"</div> + +<p>Margaret's voice from above interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Merryweather, there is a loose brick +here. I can pull it quite out; and—yes—there +is a space behind it, and—oh, can you +bring the light?"</p> + +<p>To snatch the lamp from Frances's hand, blow +her a kiss, and scramble up the steps again, was +the work of an instant with Gerald. He found +Margaret pale, with shining eyes, holding something +in her hands.</p> + +<p>"No!" cried Gerald. "I say, you haven't—you +have! eccentric Jiminy, you have found +it!"</p> + +<p>"I think I have!" said Margaret, who was +fairly trembling with excitement. "Look! the +letters on the lid! oh, Mr. Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>The object she held was a box some eight +inches square, of ebony or some other dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +wood, banded with silver. On the lid were inlaid, +also in silver, the letters C. M.</p> + +<p>"Christina Montfort!" said Margaret. "Oh, +to think of my being the one to find it!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to know who else had the right +to find it!" said Gerald. "Punch their—I +mean, of course, if they were fellows; I beg +your pardon, Miss Montfort."</p> + +<p>"It is locked," said Margaret. "We must +wait, and try some of Uncle John's keys."</p> + +<p>"Take care!" exclaimed Gerald. "The bottom +is dropping out. Hold your hand under it!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the bottom of the box, which +was of some soft wood and had rotted through, +dropped, and something rolled out and fell into +Margaret's hand. She held it up to the light. +It was a hawk's egg, neatly blown.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE EGG OF COLUMBUS</h3> + + +<p>"Why, yes!" said Mr. Montfort. "It is my +egg, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, then—"</p> + +<p>"Then you know all the—"</p> + +<p>"Was it—"</p> + +<p>"Did you—"</p> + +<p>"Tell am what—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort put his hands resolutely over +his ears, and shut his eyes. "When you are +still," he said, "I will tell you all about it; till +then I am a blind deaf-mute, with no benefit of +modern instruction."</p> + +<p>A swift rustle, followed by dead silence. +Cautiously opening his eyes, Mr. Montfort saw +the whole company seated on the floor around his +chair, gazing at him with imploring eyes, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +motionless and mute. He laughed heartily, and +threw himself back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I promised you a merry game," he said. +"Have you had it?"</p> + +<p>The young people nodded like mandarins, +but uttered no sound.</p> + +<p>"I promised you nothing more. In fact, I +warned you not to expect anything more. On +your own heads be egg and emptiness.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" he added, "since you are so +good and dutiful, you shall have the whole +truth. I found the box some forty years ago, +when I first stumbled on that closet. My dear +mother was timid, and had a great dread of the +Mysteries of Fernley, imagining a secret staircase +in every wall, and an oubliette under every +floor. Somebody had frightened her when she +came here as a child, by showing her I forget +what dark passage or closet. So we were +never officially told of the various pleasant +places devised by the eccentric old ancestor, +Peter, who, I have always believed, was a +smuggler before he was a patriot, and hid kegs +as well as commanders in his smoke-closet. You +know the story of General Blankley and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +hams, Hugh? Remind me to tell you some +day. Well, this being so, of course we youngsters +were keen set on discovery; and we +formed a league, called the Hovering Hawks. +Each of us had his private totem or sign; and +when he made a discovery, he left a totem to +tell that he had been there. Jim's was an +oyster-shell, because he considered the world his +oyster; Dick's was a ship, because he always +meant to be a sailor; Roger's was a book, of +course, for obvious reasons; and mine was an +egg, Columbus's egg, because I meant to find +things out. You see there was no overstock of +modesty among us, more than there is among +most healthy boys. We were ready for anything +and everything. I dare say some of you +may have found oyster-shells about, in various +inaccessible places?"</p> + +<p>Grace started, and blushed; then hung her +head. "I—I found one," she admitted. "It +was in a cubbyhole in the parapet of the roof. +I thought of bringing it away, but it seemed as +if some one had wanted to leave it there, so I +didn't touch it."</p> + +<p>"Jim's Retreat," said Mr. Montfort. "He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +stayed up there two days once, in a fit of sulks, +and frightened my poor dear mother almost into +an illness. Father Montfort was away from +home the first day; the second day he came +home, and went up after Master James. He was +a powerful man, Father Montfort, and an excellent +climber. Yes, poor old Jim! he did not +climb again for several days. Well, as I was +saying, after all this very egotistical digression, +I found the box in question some forty years +ago. I withdrew the—a—contents—and +substituted for them my totem. The contents +I put—elsewhere."</p> + +<p>He looked round the circle, smiling. Margaret, +gazing earnestly at him, saw his face, for +the second time since she had known him, +change from that of a grave, thoughtful man +into that of a mischievous boy, the eager eyes +alight with fun, the lips twitching with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't—you—like—to—know?" he +began slowly, his eyes turning from one to the +other. Suddenly he broke off.</p> + +<p>"There! the play is over, children. Margaret, +you found the casket, you shall find the—run<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +your hand along the back of my chair +here, my dear; where it feels cold, press downward."</p> + +<p>Margaret obeyed. A long narrow box or +drawer shot out from the rolling back of the +great mahogany chair. Obeying Mr. Montfort's +gesture, Margaret lifted out of the nest of silky +cotton something that sparkled and glittered in +the firelight. There was a long-drawn sigh +from the girls, a grunt of surprise from the +men, but still no one spoke.</p> + +<p>"The pearls are for you, Margaret. I always +meant them for you, my dear. I have taken +them out every birthday and Christmas and +looked at them, but there was always something +else I wanted to give you just then, so I put +the pretty playthings back again. Peggy, these +pink topazes were made expressly for you, even +if they have been waiting some time. No earrings, +thank heaven! I could not see my girls +in earrings. The diamonds I sent to Rita as +a wedding present; you remember them, Margaret. +Deceitful, was I, not to tell you their history? +My child, I said they were family jewels, +and so they were. The turquoises must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +Jean's; put them on at once, little girl! Very +pretty; very becoming. Now,—any more? It +seems to me I remember one more article—ah!"</p> + +<p>Margaret drew out a long, delicate, glittering +chain. At sight of it, Grace uttered a low cry +of delight. "What is it?" she said. "I never +saw anything so beautiful. Water and moonlight? +What are the stones, Mr. Montfort, +please?"</p> + +<p>"Aquamarine," said Mr. Montfort. "They +are beautiful, though not of great value. Now +what shall I do with this last trinket, I +wonder?"</p> + +<p>"There is only one person who can possibly +wear it," said Hugh, under his breath. His +uncle heard him, and shot a keen, quizzical +glance at him, which caused the philosopher +to retire suddenly behind the shadow of the +curtain. Margaret glided to her uncle's side, +and whispered in his ear. Mr. Montfort +nodded, smiling. "Just what I was thinking, +Margaret," he said. "You read my thoughts +accurately. My dear Miss Grace—by the way, +isn't it time for me to leave off the 'Miss,' considering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +my age, and how well we know each +other? 'Miss Grace' suggests 'disgrace,' which +can have no possible connection with you. My +dear Grace, then, as Margaret and others have +said, there is only one person present who ought +to wear this chain, and that person is yourself. +Will you accept it as a little gift from Margaret +and me, and from Cousin Christina?"</p> + +<p>Grace drew back, her eyebrows coming together +in a look Peggy knew well. "I—You +must excuse me," she began; but Mr. Montfort, +going to her, took her hand kindly: "My +child, do not refuse me this little pleasure. +You surely do not expect me to wear the chain +myself? and Margaret has more trumpery than +is good for her already. Besides, as I said, the +thing was manifestly made for you, and for you +alone. And, besides, again, Grace,"—he drew +her nearer, and spoke low,—"besides, again, +you are an explorer, too; if you had lived +twenty-five years ago, we should have had great +excursions together. Take it, my dear, if for +no other reason, because it is the gift of the +boy who put the egg in the box!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE TWILIGHT</h3> + + +<p>"How strange it seems without the boys!" +said Jean.</p> + +<p>"And Uncle John!" said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"And Hugh!" said Peggy. "I wish they +hadn't gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you don't, Peggy!" said Margaret. +"It was such a great chance, to have the day +on that wonderful yacht. Just think what a +good time they are having! I only wish you +could have gone too, but it is a bachelor party, +you see."</p> + +<p>"Of course! Oh, I want them to have the +fun, and it was very good of Captain Storm to +let Uncle John take them all. Yes, they will +have a glorious time; only—well, we miss +them so horribly. Dear me, Margaret, isn't it +strange that you should get to know people so +well in such a short time? Why, I seem to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +know Gerald and Phil as well—better, in some +ways, than I know Hugh. But then, I never +feel as if I understood Hugh, he is so—he +knows so much. Margaret, dear, it makes me +happy all through to have you and Hugh know +each other, and be such friends."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it cannot make you so happy as it +does me, Peggy," said Margaret, smiling. "He +is a wonderful person, that brother of yours. +Yes, he does know a most amazing amount, but +he never makes one uncomfortable with his +knowledge, as some clever people do. He is +like a delightful book, that you can read when +you want to, and when you don't it stays quiet +on its shelf. When I want to know about anything, +and Uncle John is somewhere else, or is +busy, I just turn over a page of Hugh, and +there I have it. Oh, by the bye, Grace, what +was that stanza he was quoting to you this +morning, just before he went away? Don't +you remember? we were coming through the +orchard, he and I, and we met you, and he said +this. I have been trying all day to recall it."</p> + +<p>"Keats!" said Grace, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that; it was from 'La Belle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +Dame sans Merci,' but I cannot get the whole +stanza. Won't you repeat it? I know you +have almost the whole of Keats by heart."</p> + +<p>Grace hesitated, and murmured something +about "a time for everything," but finally, half-reluctantly, +she repeated the stanza:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'I met a lady in the meads,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Full beautiful, a fairy's child;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Her hair was long, her foot was light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And her eyes were wild.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Yes," said Margaret. "Well—thank you, +Grace! I just wanted to hear it in your voice; +what I was thinking of was, that Hugh always +knows just what to say about everything and +everybody. He has the whole Golden Treasury +in his head, and he always turns the right page. +Do you remember the other day, when Michael +was so stupid!"</p> + +<p>"Michael is always stupid!" said Jean.</p> + +<p>"Poor Michael! He is not very clever." +(Michael was the stable-boy at Fernley, a new +importation from Ireland, with a good deal of +peat-bog still sticking to his brains.) "Well, +the other day he was more stupid than usual,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +for he was sent in town to get some rolled oats +that Frances wanted. Well, he brought back +just plain oats; and when Frances wanted to +know what he meant by that, he said, 'Sure, +it's meself can rowl 'em about for yez, as well +as that feller in the white jacket.' Frances +explained the situation to him with more force +than amiability. She was in a perfect storm, +and poor Michael stood meekly, feeling of his +ear as if she had actually boxed it, though really +she only threatened to, and wondering what it +was all about. Well, Hugh and I came along, +and Hugh just looked at him, and said:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'The ass upon the pivot of his skull<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Turned round a long left ear!'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>There is no other quotation in the English +language that would have fitted the case so +perfectly."</div> + +<p>"You and Grace seem to know Hugh about a +hundred times as well as Peggy and I do," said +Jean, pouting a little.</p> + +<p>"Because they are clever, my dear, and we +are not," said Peggy, cheerfully. "If you would +learn things, Jean, English literature and all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +that, you might be able to talk to Hugh. As +it is—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I think Phil and Gerald are ever so +much more fun, anyhow!" said Jean, saucily. +"Hugh is poky!"</p> + +<p>Seeing an elder-sisterly cloud gathering on +Peggy's brow, Margaret hastened to interfere. +"Girls," she said, "I have a confession to make. +I was just going to make it, when the quotations +turned me off the track. You know what +Peggy was saying, about our all getting to know +each other so well from staying in the house +together. That reminded me of something, +something I am very much ashamed of; and +I think it would be good for my soul to confess +it. But you must promise never to tell."</p> + +<p>"We promise! We promise!" cried all the +girls.</p> + +<p>"Margaret," said Grace, "I have been looking +for your sins ever since I came, but you +were too clever for me; now I shall learn."</p> + +<p>"Not my fault," said Margaret, merrily, "if +you are a bat as well as a dozen other animals, +my dear. Well, girls—oh, I am ashamed, and +it really is most astonishingly virtuous of me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +tell you about it. Peggy, just before you came, +I was very blue; deeply, darkly, most unbeautifully +blue!"</p> + +<p>"Margaret! you, blue?"</p> + +<p>"Hear Peggy making rhymes! Yes, I, blue. +You see, the children were gone, and I did miss +them so, I hardly knew how to bear it. It is +impossible for any one to have any idea, girls, +how children, children that are little enough to +need one's care, you know, and—and watching, +and thinking about, and all—how they get +inside your heart and just live there, all curled +up in it, bless them! and these particular children +are the very dearest ones that ever lived, I +do believe. Well, so they were gone, and my +heart seemed empty; wickedly and abominably +empty, for there was my own dearest uncle, and +there were you, my own Peggy, coming to spend +the whole summer with me, and as if that were +not joy enough for three people, let alone one, +I made all kinds of plans, about studying, and +teaching you housekeeping, and embroidery, and +all kinds of things. We were going to read +so many hours a day, and work so many hours,—my +poor Peggy! you would have had an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +unmerciful kind of time!—and everything was +going to be quiet and regular and cheerful; I +never got beyond cheerfulness in my brightest +dreams of the summer. But even the cheerfulness +was far ahead, and just then—before you +came—I really had difficulty sometimes in +keeping a cheerful face for Uncle John when +he came in. Why—must I tell the whole?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Margaret, every word!"</p> + +<p>"I used to go up to Susan D.'s room and cry +over her little pinafores and things. As for my +pincushion, I fairly soaked it with tears when +I first found it. I told you about the pincushion, +didn't I? Why, that little lamb, for +days before she went, was working away at +something, she would not let me see what. +After she was gone, I went up to my room +for a quiet cry, and there was a gorgeous new +pincushion, and 'I love you,' on it in pins. My +dear little girl! Well, girls, so—that was the +way I felt, and the way I acted, most absurdly; +and then—all this happened. First Hugh +dropped from the skies; and then Uncle proposed +the house party, and you came, Jean, +and the Merryweathers; and then you, Peggy;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +and we discovered our dear Grace; and so, +instead of a quiet, rather humdrum summer, +I am having the most enchanting, Arabian-nights +kind of time that ever was. And how +do you think I feel?"</p> + +<p>"Phil would say 'like thirty cents!'" said +Jean, who was certainly a little inclined to be +pert.</p> + +<p>"If I hear you say anything of the kind, +young one, I'll swat—"</p> + +<p>"Peggy, dearest!" murmured Margaret, +softly.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to you very severely. I am +ashamed of you, Kidderminster!"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Peggy, I won't stand that!" +said Jean. "You promised me, when I first +came, that you wouldn't call me that."</p> + +<p>"Then don't behave like a kid!" retorted +Peggy. "There, that's enough. Yes, Margaret, +it has all been perfectly delightful and fairy-like; +and then the Mysteries, too, and the +hunting, and the Silver Closet, and all. Oh, +I am so glad we didn't find out everything that +first summer. I suppose Uncle John thought +we were too young and silly then; not that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +you were ever silly, you dear darling thing. +But, Margaret, there is one thing wanting to +it all, and only you and I know what that is."</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded. "Yes," she said, with +a little sigh. "We want our Princess, Peggy. +Oh, Grace, if you only knew our Rita! How +you and she would love each other! Peggy, +you said that just at the right moment, for +I have her last letter in my pocket, on purpose +to read to you, and I am sure the others would +like to hear it, too. Would you, girls?"</p> + +<p>There seemed no possible doubt on the subject. +All the girls gathered about Margaret, +sitting on the floor, as they liked best to do. +Margaret herself took possession of her favorite +low chair, and drawing the letter from her +pocket, began to read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Beloved Marguerite</span>:—I am of return only yesterday +from an expedition to the hills, and I find your +precious letter waiting for me. No need to tell you +that I pressed it to my heart, covered it with kisses. +Jack says your letters are the sole thing of which he is +jealous. I grieve to hear that you must lose those little +ones whom you love so well, even for a short time; but +courage, <i>Margarita mia;</i> there are other flowers besides +roses, and summer is a pleasant time. You will have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +Peggy with you, dear Peggy! She sends me a photograph, +which shows her little changed in the face; still +the dimples, still the soft roundness of cheek and chin. +Best of Peggys; if I had her here, what great joy! +But I must tell you of our ride. We went, Jack and +I, up to the hill camp, where we went last year, after +the terrible ride you know of. There we spent three +happy days, camping in the green hollow among the +hills, with only Juan to cook for us and care for +the horses. Ah, Marguerite, what a time was that! +We visited every spot made sacred to us by our love. +The hiding-place, near poor Don Annunzio's house, +where I first saw my hero, swinging in his hammock. +Have I told you that I thought him a skulker, a coward +hiding to escape warfare? How often we have laughed +over that! Then we passed along the road, so peaceful +now, so wild and horrent then (how is this word, 'horrent,' +Marguerite? I find it in a poem, it seems to me +noble; I tell Jack, he laughs, and says something like +'high falu—' I cannot tell what!). We paused to weep +over the gray heap where once smiled the <i>residencia</i>, +where that kind old woman and her good vast husband +sheltered the wandering maiden, protected her at the +risk of their own lives, and—one of them, as you know—died +to save her and others. Then farther, to Carlos's +old camp, where Manuela and I lived, and where I first +learned to be of a little use in the world. Ah, the memories, +how they came crowding back! I have told you +that Manuela is married to Pepe? Yes; two months +ago. The wedding was charming! I gave her her +wedding-gown, of finest muslin, suitable to her condition,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +with plenty of lace and ribbons, which the poor +child values highly, and I dressed her hair (poor Manuela! +She would have done it far better herself; she +has a wonderful gift. My present maid is a poor creature, +but Manuela is to give her lessons), and arranged +the veil and wreath. She was a vision of enchantment, +and really thrown away on poor Pepe, who never looked +at either dress or veil. Jack says 'neither did he.' +My dear, these men! To what purpose do we adorn +ourselves, exhaust the treasure of our souls, in efforts to +please them? But I wander from my story. My child, +this expedition, carrying back heart as well as body to +the scenes of before our marriage, has told me over again +the story of my happiness. Marguerite, how to deserve +it, this wonderful bliss? I study, I try, the dear Saint +teaches me always many things—in vain! I am debtor +to the whole world, and how much more to the gracious +Power above worlds! But enough of this, my Pearl! +Your time will come; till then you know nothing of it. +I pant for your awakening, I burn, Marguerite, but I am +powerless. If I had you here, there is a friend of ours, +a paladin, a Roland, second only to my Jack—no! This +makes you laugh, I feel it, I see your cool, pearly smile. +I am angry with you for laughing, yet I laugh, too. So! +now of other things. I think of you always; Jack also; +I have told him so much, he assassinates himself with +desire to see you all. The time will come! Marguerite—no +matter! One word only! Our beloved Uncle's +birthday; I remember the day, the Fourteenth. You +will honor it, I know, as such a day should be honored, +the day which blessed the earth with the best man—except<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +one—that breathes mortal breath. Marguerite, +if on that day a trifle should come from the far-away +cousins, you will receive it kindly? Ah, how well I +know the answer! Bless you, my treasure! I must +go to my housekeeping. Dear Donito Miguelito is staying +with us now; you can fancy the joy of tending this +saintly old man in his feebleness. I prepare myself the +little dishes that please him; it is a sacred task; it is +like feeding a holy butterfly.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 6em;">"Adios, my Marguerite!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">"Ever and ever your devoted</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Rita</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<p>"You ask of Concepcion. She is married to Diego +Moreno, and, as I hear, is very unhappy. Poor woman, +I compassionate her!"</p></div> + +<p>After the reading of the letter, Grace slipped +away to return to her patient, and the three +cousins sat together, talking in low tones of Rita, +and of Grace herself. Jean maintained stoutly +that Rita could not be so fascinating as Grace. +Peggy and Margaret insisted that, though +totally different in quality, neither could outdo +the other in amount of charm.</p> + +<p>"They are both the kind of girls you would +do anything for!" said Peggy; "just anything +in the world, no matter how foolish, just because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +they wanted you to. It isn't a thing you can +describe; it just <i>is</i>, and nobody can help it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think the difference would +be in the kind of thing they would ask you to +do," said Jean, with wisdom beyond her years. +"Grace wouldn't ask you anything foolish, and +I should think Cousin Rita might."</p> + +<p>"Grace!" exclaimed Peggy; and then +checked herself loyally. "Grace wasn't always +so wise as she is now, young one!" she said, +simply.</p> + +<p>"Well, she's a dear, anyhow; I think Mrs. +Peyton might have let her stay all night. It's +horribly poky, with Uncle John and the boys +and everybody away. Why, Margaret, there +isn't a single man about the place, is there? +Bannan drove them over, and then he was going +to the cattle-show, and so was Michael. Suppose +there should be robbers, or anything!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose there should!" said Peggy, coolly. +"If Frances and I and the dogs could not +arrange matters with a robber, it would be a +pity. Margaret—what is this queer light? +Has everything turned red, all of a sudden?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gs07.png" width="400" height="249" alt=""A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE ROOM."" title=""A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE ROOM."" /> +<span class="caption">"A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE ROOM."</span> +</div> + +<p>"The moon rises late to-night," said Margaret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>"I have no idea what time it is now. +It seems an hour since Grace went."</p> + +<p>"The moon isn't red, anyhow!" said Peggy. +"I believe—"</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she rose and went to the +window. "Girls!" she cried. "There is a fire +somewhere near. Come and look!"</p> + +<p>Margaret and Jean pressed hastily forward to +the window. It was a strange scene on which +they looked. All of a sudden, the world seemed +turned to red and black. A crimson light suffused +the sky; against it the trees stood black +as ebony. Even as they looked, a crest of flame +sprang up above the tree-tops, wavered, and +broke into a shower of sparks; at the same instant +their nostrils were filled with the acrid, +pungent smell of wood smoke.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it? Where can it be?" cried +Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's only a bonfire!" said Jean.</p> + +<p>Peggy shook her head. "Too big for a bonfire!" +she said. "I'll go out and see, Margaret. +What a pity the boys should miss it! I'll come +back and let you know—mercy! what's this?"</p> + +<p>The door opened, and a tall, slender figure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +half ran, half tottered into the room. "Margaret!" +cried a wild voice of terror. "Margaret +Montfort, save me!"</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! Mrs. Peyton!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Emily Peyton. My house is burning. +I ran all the way here. I—"</p> + +<p>Margaret and Peggy caught her as she fell +forward, and laid her on the sofa, and while +Jean ran for water and Elizabeth, chafed her +hands and her temples, looking the while +anxiously at each other.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell us what happened?" asked +Margaret, trying to keep her voice quiet and +even, for Mrs. Peyton was in the wildest agitation. +"You escaped, thank Heaven! but—is +the fire serious? Who is there now? Where is +Grace Wolfe?"</p> + +<p>"Don't leave me!" said the sick woman, with +a ghastly look. "Margaret, if you leave me I +shall die. She—she went back for the jewels. +She is in the house now."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE FIRE</h3> + + +<p>The three girls reached the door in the same +instant, but Mrs. Peyton followed, and still held +Margaret's arm in a desperate clutch.</p> + +<p>"Don't leave me!" she repeated. "Margaret, +don't leave me to die!"</p> + +<p>But Margaret put the clinging hands away. +"You are not going to die," she said. "You +are going to sit down in this chair, Mrs. Peyton, +and be quiet till I come back. See, here +is Elizabeth, with water and cologne, and everything +comfortable. By and by you shall go +up-stairs, but rest here now; nothing can happen +to you, and I will come back as soon as I can."</p> + +<p>Wondering at her own hardihood, Margaret +ran out, shunning the wild pleading of the beautiful +eyes which she knew were bent upon her. +Jean was waiting for her on the step, but Peggy +had disappeared.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She said we were to go on," said Jean, +"and she would catch us up. Which way, +Margaret? I don't know the way."</p> + +<p>Margaret led the way through the garden, +running as she had never run before. They +had not gone a hundred yards when Peggy was +at their side. She had a coil of rope slung +over her arm.</p> + +<p>"It may be wanted," she said. "I remembered +where it always hung. Oh, if the boys +were only here!"</p> + +<p>They ran on in silence, Margaret echoing the +cry in her heart. At every step the glare grew +brighter, the rolling smoke thicker. Margaret +noticed, and wondered at herself for noticing, +that the under side of some of the leaves above +her head shone red like copper, while others +were yellow as gold. Every patch of fern and +brake, every leaf of box or holly, stood out, clear +as at noonday.</p> + +<p>On, down the long cedar alley, the dew dripping +from the branches as they closed behind +them; over the sunk fence, and across the +lower garden to the summer-house, Hugh's +summer-house. Once Margaret would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +shuddered at the drop into the meadow below, +but Grace's climbing lessons had not been given +in vain, and, without a moment's hesitation, she +followed Peggy down the old willow-tree, landing +knee-deep in fern below.</p> + +<p>Now they could hear the roar of the flames, +the crackling and snapping of burning wood, +and, looking up, they saw on the brow of the +rise beyond, the flames tossing and beckoning +over the dark firs of Silverfield.</p> + +<p>Five minutes more, and, breathless with +running, they stood on the lawn before the +burning house.</p> + +<p>The side facing them was already wrapped in +flames. Long wavering tongues shot through +the open windows, and curled round the woodwork, +lapping it; they purred and chuckled like +live creatures over their food; they leaped up +toward the roof, running along its edge, feeling +their way higher and higher, while now and +then one sprang aloft, tossing its scarlet crest +over the rooftree itself. Evidently the fire had +started in the upper story, for in the lower one, +though the smoke poured dense and black +through the open windows, there were no flames<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +to be seen yet. Furniture, books, and knick-knacks +of every description were scattered about +the lawn in wild confusion, and two men, half +stifled with smoke, were struggling frantically +with a grand piano, one hacking at the window-frame +with an axe to widen the opening, the +other trying desperately to unscrew the legs, as +if that would mend matters. Seven people out +of ten, at a fire, will leave untouched pictures +and books that can never be replaced, and spend +their time and energies in trying to save the +piano.</p> + +<p>The group of frightened women huddled together +on the lawn had made their attempt, too, +to save some of their mistress's property. Even +in her terror and anguish, Margaret could hardly +keep back the thought of a smile at their aspect. +One clasped a sofa-pillow, one a pair of +vases. A stout woman, evidently the cook, had +a porcelain kettle on either arm, and another on +her head, while her hands clutched a variety of +spoons, ladles, cups, and dippers. She evidently +had her wits about her more than the others, +and she was scolding the parlor-maid, a trembling, +weeping creature, who was holding a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +small china bowl in both hands, as if it were +a royal treasure.</p> + +<p>"She likes her malted milk in it, you know +she does, Mary," said the girl. "Only yesterday +she was telling me never bring her any +bowl except this. It's cruel of you to harry me +for trying to save what she likes."</p> + +<p>"You green goose! What will she want wid +the bowl and you not leaving her a spoon to +sup wid! Where is the key of the safe, I'm +askin' ye! Maybe James could get it out +yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! I don't know! I expect +I dropped it. I was going to get the silver +myself; I'd ha' got all of it, without you telling +me, but when I opened the pantry door, the +fire leapt out at me, roaring like the pit, and I +dropped the key and run. I'm awful sorry, but +I've got the bowl, and I do wish you'd let me +be."</p> + +<p>A little apart stood Antonia, the French maid, +bearing on her outstretched arms a superb tea-gown +of violet velvet, embroidered with pearls. +On it lay a pile of costly laces, slightly blackened +by smoke, but uninjured. Antonia had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +done her best, and had saved the treasure of +her heart. Margaret ran up to her.</p> + +<p>"Antonia, where is Miss Wolfe?"</p> + +<p>The woman did not seem to hear the question, +but burst into agitated speech. "Oh, mademoiselle, +mademoiselle!" she cried. "Ah, the +tragedy! of all the robes arrived from Paris +last week, but only last week, this only remaining! +It was all I could save, all! I tried; +I burned myself the hands, mademoiselle, to +rescue the others, the blue crape, the adorable +lace <i>jacquettes</i>, the <i>satin rose-thè</i>—in vain, +all gone, all devoured! <i>Mon Dieu</i>, and madame +had not even had them on! But the lace, +Mademoiselle Montfort, the point d'Alençon, the +Valenciennes, all, I have it safe. See, mademoiselle, +regard for yourself, <i>un peu noirci</i>, a leetle +blackened, <i>voilà tout!</i> It is without price, the +point d'Alençon, you know, Mademoiselle Marguerite."</p> + +<p>"Antonia, do you hear me? What do I care +about the laces? Where is Miss Wolfe?"</p> + +<p>"She's mazed, miss!" said Mary, the cook. +"She can't talk about nothin' but that stuff. +Sure Miss Wolfe is at Fernley wid the mistress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +It's wondher ye didn't meet them on the +way, miss. She went wid Mrs. Peyton, and me +and the other girls stopped behind to see what +we could save."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried Margaret. "Mrs. Peyton +came alone. She said Miss Wolfe came back—for +the jewels. She said she was in the house +now."</p> + +<p>"Lord help her then!" said the parlor-maid. +"If she's in the house now, she's as good as +dead, and worse, too. The stairs has fallen in; +Thomas seen 'em fall. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what +an awful time!"</p> + +<p>"Be still, Eliza!" said the cook. "Where's +Jenny? She was in the sewing-room, next to +Miss Wolfe's; maybe she'd know something. +Who saw Jenny since we come out? Good +Lord, where is the child? I thought she come +with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jenny's all right!" moaned Eliza. +"She'll have gone straight home. She was +going home to spend the night anyway, Mary; +don't be scaring us worse. It's bad enough to +lose Miss Wolfe, poor young lady, and she so +bold and daring!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Hold your tongue!</i>" said Peggy. "Listen +to me, girls, and answer plainly, and not all at +once like a flock of foolish sheep. Did any one +see Miss Wolfe go into the house?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss, no; we see her go with Mrs. +Peyton, and we never thought but she was all +right."</p> + +<p>"She may not be there after all!" said +Peggy. "Her room is on the other side, isn't +it, Margaret? Come on!"</p> + +<p>They ran round to the other side of the +house. This was apparently still untouched, +though the fiery tongues came darting over the +rooftree every now and then, hissing and lapping, +and the roof itself was covered with +sparks and great patches of burning tinder, +fragments of the costly stuffs and tissues that +the house-owner had so dearly prized. The +windows were closed and silent, but all was +bright as day in the red glare of the fire.</p> + +<p>"Call, Peggy!" whispered Margaret. "I +have no voice."</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke, a window in the second +story was thrown up, and there stood Grace +herself, very pale, but quiet as usual.</p> + +<p>"There's a young woman faint here," she +said. "Too much smoke. The stairs are gone. +Is there a ladder, Peggy? Ah, rope! Much +better. Clever child! When I say three—throw!"</p> + +<p>Oh, the good days on the Western farm, when +little Peggy, on her rough pony, scampered here +and there, lassoing the sheep and calves, and +getting well scolded in consequence! Oh, the +other good days at school, where nerve and +muscle learned to follow the quick eye, so that +thought and action seemed to flash together!</p> + +<p>The rope hissed upward like a flying snake, +but a cloud of smoke drove past the window, and +the outstretched hands missed it. Again it flew, +and this time it was caught, drawn up, and +knotted tight inside the window.</p> + +<p>"Now if I had a ladder!" muttered Peggy.</p> + +<p>"I saw one," cried Margaret; "I am sure +I did. Wait!"</p> + +<p>She flew off, and returned followed by a +boy with a ladder. It proved short by several +feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what shall we do!" cried Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Hold the ladder steady!" said Peggy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +"She'll see to that end, and I can manage +this. Hold it!"</p> + +<p>Margaret and the boy grasped the ladder; +Peggy ran up it, and stood on the top rung, +holding the lower end of the rope.</p> + +<p>"All ready, Goat!" she called.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" said the quiet voice within. +"Coming, Innocent!"</p> + +<p>The women had followed Margaret and +Peggy, and now a cry broke from them.</p> + +<p>"She's got her!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis Jenny! She was in there all the +time!"</p> + +<p>"She's dead!"</p> + +<p>"She's not; she's living, I see her move. Oh, +Mother of Mercy, they'll both be killed before +their own eyes!"</p> + +<p>What was Grace doing? The form she held +in her arms was that of a slight girl of fifteen +or so. She was knotting something round her, +under arms and over breast; something half +sling, half rope; towels, perhaps, tied strongly +together. Now she brought the ends over her +own shoulders, bending forward.</p> + +<p>"Now, Peggy!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now!"</p> + +<p>With the unconscious child bound to her +back, Grace leaned out and grasped the rope; +another moment and she was swinging on it, +clinging with hands and feet, the old school way.</p> + +<p>Margaret covered her face with her hand and +prayed. Peggy, steadying the rope with one +hand, held out the other, and waited.</p> + +<p>Down, hand over hand! Slender hands, to +bear the double burden. Delicate shoulders, +to carry the dead weight that hangs on them. +Are they elastic steel, those fingers that grip +the rope, never slipping, never relaxing their +hold?</p> + +<p>Down, hand over hand! the hands are bleeding +now; no matter! the white dress is black +with smoke, and blood drips on it here and +there; what of that? it is nearly over.</p> + +<p>"Now?" Peggy asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Now!"</p> + +<p>Steadying herself, Peggy left the rope, and +received the burden in her arms. Grace, holding +the rope with one hand, with the other +loosed the knot, and laid the limp arms over +Peggy's neck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right?" she said.</p> + +<p>"All right!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ainsi long!</i>" and as Peggy carefully +slowly descended the ladder, Grace turned and +began quickly and steadily to climb the rope +again.</p> + +<p>"Grace! Grace!" cried Margaret. "For +God's sake, what are you about? Come down! +There is no time to lose; come down!"</p> + +<p>"And behold, all is vanity!" said Grace; +and she disappeared inside the burning house.</p> + +<p>But Margaret could bear no more. She helped +to take the senseless girl from Peggy's arms +and lay her on the grass; then the world seemed +to slip from her, and she dropped quietly with +her head on Jenny's shoulder.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>JEWELS: AND AN AWAKENING</h3> + + +<p>"Are you better?" said Gerald. "Are you +truly better, Miss Margaret? I am going to +drown myself anyhow in the first bucket I find, +and if you don't feel better I shall make it a +dipper, and that would be so inconvenient, don't +you know?"</p> + +<p>Margaret looked at him, only half hearing +what he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am better; I am very well, thank +you. What happened? Did I faint?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! you fainted, just as we came up. +They wanted to pour water over you, but I +always think it's such a shame, in books, +to spoil their clothes, and you have such +pretty clothes. So I wouldn't let them. It +wasn't Peggy, it was a lot of fool cooks and +things."</p> + +<p>"Did something hurt me?" asked Margaret,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +vaguely, still feeling that she was somebody +else making friendly inquiries about herself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I—I pinched you, you dear, sweet, +pretty—at least, I don't mean that! at least +I do mean it, every word, only highly improper +under the circumstances, but I don't care so +long as you are better."</p> + +<p>Making a strong effort, Margaret sat up and +looked about her. She was still on the Silverfield +lawn, but some one had drawn her away +from the neighborhood of the burning house, +now a shapeless mass, though still burning +fiercely, and had pillowed her head on a rolled-up +coat. Her companion was in his shirt-sleeves, +so it was evident whose coat it was.</p> + +<p>As she gazed at the blazing ruins, memory +came back in a flood.</p> + +<p>"Grace!" she cried, wildly. "Where is +Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Safe," said Gerald, quickly. "Safe and +sound. Not a hair singed, though it sounds +impossible. Most astonishing person I ever +saw in my life. Came down the rope like a +foretopman, hung all over with jewels: +brooches, chains, and owches, you know,—Scripture,—kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +of rope-walking Tiffany. You +never saw such a thing in your life. Hadn't +much more than touched the ground, when the +roof fell in. Standing luck of the British Army, +I call that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank God! thank God! but where is +she? where are they all?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly gone to take the fainted girl home. +She didn't come to just right; choked with the +smoke, Hugh thought. Phil and Peggy are +carrying her, and Miss Wolfe giving moral +support. Hugh has gone for the nearest doctor. +The fool cooks have gone in search of +their wits, I suppose; they didn't seem to be +anywhere round here."</p> + +<p>"And—Jean? she was here too; is she all +right?"</p> + +<p>Gerald hung his head. "She was left to +take care of you," he said. "I told her I was +a medical man, which is strictly untrue, and +asked her to go back to Fernley to get something, +cologne, or rum, or mustard,—I forget +what I did say. The women bothered and +made a noise, so I advised them to proceed +in the direction of Jericho. Great place, Jericho!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +They went—there or elsewhere. Don't get up +yet, please don't! it's always better to lie still +after a fire, or a faint; how much more after +both combined!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must!" said Margaret. "I must go +home at once, Mr. Merryweather, truly. Oh, +thank you, but I can get up perfectly well—only +my head is queer still. I wish—why did +you send Jean away?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't want her," said Gerald, meekly. +"You looked so pretty—"</p> + +<p>"Please don't talk nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not. It's my truthful nature. It +comes out in spots, like measles, in spite of me. +When I was only six years old, I told my +nurse she was a hideous old squunt, and she was. +Fact, or at least justifiable fiction. If you must +get up, won't you take poor Jerry's arm? just +once, before he drowns himself? it's your last +chance!"</p> + +<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean? Why should you drown +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Because I missed all the fun, and let you +faint, and Miss Wolfe get nearly burned up, and +Miss Peggy a sight to behold with smoke and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +water, and Hugh all tied up in t l k's, and all +for a day's yachting. Not that it wasn't great +yachting, but there is a sense of proportion."</p> + +<p>"What are t l k's?" asked Margaret, smiling +faintly. She was recovering her composure, +and Gerald noted with inward thankfulness her +returning color. His running fire of nonsense, +kept up in the hope of rousing her to interest, +covered an anxious heart, but he gave no sign.</p> + +<p>"T l k's? true lover's knots! none of my +business, of course, but the professor appears to +be interested in the fair acrobat—acrobatess—acrobatia—what +you will! Give you my +word, when he came round the corner and saw +her coming down that rope, I thought he would +curl up into knots himself. Jolly stunt! when +I first came I was awfully afraid—" Gerald +pulled himself up suddenly, and blushed scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Afraid?" said Margaret, innocently. "Afraid +of what?"</p> + +<p>"Of bats! When they squeak, I desire to pass +away."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>"If you call me Mr. Merryweather any more, +I <i>shall</i> pass away, without benefit of buckets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +Say Gerald! just try it, and see how pretty it +sounds. Gerald! 'tis a melting mouthful! Sentimental, +if you will, but what then?"</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed in spite of herself. "I +must say, as Frances did, I never see such a +bold boy since born I was!" she said. "Well, +Gerald, then; and now, Gerald, here we are at +the house, and would you please go round the +north way, and not come into the library just +now? Thank you ever so much for helping me! +No, I must go in, I truly must."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton was sitting bolt upright on the +sofa on which they had laid her. Her face was +absolutely colorless; it might have been an ivory +statue, but for the ghastly look of the blue eyes. +She fixed her eyes on Margaret, but said nothing. +Margaret ran to her, and put her arms +round her. "Oh, how could they leave you +alone?" she cried. "She is safe; every one is +safe, dear Mrs. Peyton. No one hurt, only +Jenny overcome with the smoke a little. I +thought Jean would have told you."</p> + +<p>The ivory figure began to tremble. With +shaking hands she tried to put Margaret away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +from her; then, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, +she clung to her and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I sent them away!" she whispered through +her sobs. "I would not have them look at me. +Margaret—are you sure? that girl, is she truly +safe?"</p> + +<p>"Truly and honestly, dear Mrs. Peyton. It +was a most marvellous escape, but she is absolutely +unharmed, and she saved another life +beside her own. But for Grace, poor little +Jenny must have been lost. She is a heroine, +our Grace!"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to kill her!" said the poor +woman. "I did not realize what it meant. I +said, 'My jewels! my jewels!' and I don't know +what other nonsense. She never said a word, +just turned and went back. Then—oh! then, +when you were all gone, I understood, I saw, +that I had sent her to her death for those—those +horrible things. Never—never let me see them +again! I have been sitting here—years, it +seems to me—waiting to hear that she was +dead; perhaps to see her body brought in, all—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hush, hush, Mrs. Peyton! You will +make yourself ill. You are only distressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +yourself beyond all need. She is safe, I tell +you. In a few moments you will see for yourself—"</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and Grace +stood before them. She was a strange figure +indeed. Black with smoke, her fair hair gray +with ashes, her dress torn and discolored; but +sparkling with jewels as never was any ballroom +belle. Superb necklaces of diamond and emerald +hung around her neck; her arms glittered +with bracelets, her fingers were loaded with +rings, while ropes of amethyst and pearl were +wound around her head and even about her +waist.</p> + +<p>"All the way over," said Grace, "I have been +pitying the robber who didn't meet me, and so +lost the great chance of his life. So sad for +him!"</p> + +<p>Margaret recalled Gerald's expression, "a +rope-walking Tiffany," and could not help smiling +in spite of her anxiety; but Mrs. Peyton hid +her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Take them away!" she said. "Take them +off, Grace! I never want to see them again. +Horrible things, all blood and flame! who knows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +how many other lives they have cost? and it is +no fault of mine that they have not cost yours. +No fault of mine!"</p> + +<p>This was so true, that neither Grace nor +Margaret spoke. Mrs. Peyton rose, and moved +restlessly about the room.</p> + +<p>"Incidentally," she said, "I have got well."</p> + +<p>Grace glanced at Margaret, but still neither +spoke. Mrs. Peyton gave Grace a strange look. +"You didn't set fire to the house deliberately, +I suppose?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I did not!" said Grace, bluntly. "To be +honest, I have thought of it—thought, I mean, +of the effect it might produce; but it isn't a +thing one does in general society."</p> + +<p>"I remember!" said Mrs. Peyton, dreamily. +"I remember. I did it myself."</p> + +<p>"Did it yourself?" cried Margaret, aghast. +Grace was silent.</p> + +<p>"I threw the candle down. I had been looking +in the glass, and I found a new wrinkle, a +horrible one. I threw the candle down, and it +fell on a roll of cotton wool. How it went! I +can hear the sound now, and see the fire run—run!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wouldn't talk about it any more," said +Grace, quietly.</p> + +<p>"I must. I must tell it all. She—Grace, +there—found me; it had caught my bed, and +the curtains were blazing. She carried me out +of the room and down the stairs herself. What +is she made of? She isn't so tall as I. Then—at +the door—she set me down and told me +to run, and I ran. We ran together, till the +devil brought these things into my mind, and I +sent her back to be burned up for my vanity."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't burned up," said Grace, composedly; +"and as you remarked just now, Mrs. +Peyton, you have got well. Do you want to +know what I think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Grace—"</p> + +<p>"I think—that the game was worth the +candle!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>FOR AULD LANG SYNE</h3> + + +<p>"Confess that I have surprised you, John +Montfort!" said Mrs. Peyton.</p> + +<p>"I do confess it, Emily," Mr. Montfort answered, +gravely. "But I am truly glad that my +house has been able to afford you shelter when +you were in need of it."</p> + +<p>"That is as much as to say, that under other +circumstances—never mind! I am not going +to quarrel with you, John."</p> + +<p>"I trust not," said Mr. Montfort, still speaking +with grave courtesy.</p> + +<p>If Margaret had been present, she would have +wondered at the change in her uncle's face. The +warmth, the genial light of kindness, was clean +gone out of it; it was an older and a sterner +man who sat in the great armchair and looked +steadily and quietly at his visitor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton smiled, then frowned; at last she +sighed.</p> + +<p>"I never meant to hurt you, John," she said, +softly. "Thirty years is a long time to hate a +person who—who never hated you."</p> + +<p>"I have never hated you, Emily," said Mr. +Montfort, not unkindly. "Our paths have not +crossed—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton laughed. "No, they have not +crossed. You took care of that. They have +only run alongside each other—with the garden +wall between."</p> + +<p>"And nothing else?" said John Montfort.</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment. Then, "I +never meant to make trouble between you and +Rose!"</p> + +<p>"You never did," said Mr. Montfort, tranquilly.</p> + +<p>"I know! but—you thought I tried. I did +tell you a lie that night, when I said she would +not see you. How could I know that she was +going to die before you came back from the +West? I—I wanted to see you myself; that +was no such dreadful sin, was it? I was sorry—sorry, +I tell you, when I heard of her death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +Thirty years ago, and I have never been able +to speak to you alone till to-day. I—I had to +burn my house down to get a chance to make +my peace with you, John Montfort. No, I don't +mean that I did it on purpose, though I am not +sure that it wouldn't—aren't you going to forgive +me, John, after all these years?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort rose. He was very pale, but he +spoke steadily. "Emily, it is hardly strange +that I do not care to open old wounds. If I +have been unkind, I am sorry for it. I do forgive +you, fully and freely. Now, let the past +alone. What can I do for you in the present, +and how help you to provide for the future? I +have not been a good neighbor, I confess it; +I will try to prove myself a better one henceforward."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton laughed her little mocking laugh. +"It will be easier than you think, John. I am +going to Europe, and I don't know whether I +shall ever come back."</p> + +<p>"Going to Europe, Emily? Are you strong +enough?"</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly well!" said Mrs. Peyton, +simply. "Doctor Flower has been telling me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +for several years that there was nothing really +the matter with me any more, and that I could +be well if I wanted. Grace Wolfe made me +feel the same thing. Well, now I do want it. +The fire lighted up a good many things for me, +and showed me the way. I have no house to +live in; I am alone in the world; I may as well +be doing things as staying in bed, of which I +am really very tired. I am writing to my man +of business to take places for Antonia and me +on next week's steamer for Paris. I've half a +mind to take Grace Wolfe, too, if she will go."</p> + +<p>"I have asked Grace to make her home with +us for the present," said Mr. Montfort, quickly. +"Next year I expect to take her and Margaret +abroad together."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyton laughed again. "I can't even +have her! Well—never mind. I love her, +but she frightens me. She might have catalepsy +again,—though I rather think that was +a clever device for getting me out of bed,—and +I want to forget everything connected with +sickness. But—John—there is something you +can do for me. This girl risked her life to save +my jewels, the playthings I have tried to amuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +myself with these many years. I want you to +sell them for me, and give her the money."</p> + +<p>"Sell your jewels, Emily!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I never want to see them again." +She shuddered slightly, but her voice was firm +and steady.</p> + +<p>"They are all here, in this basket. Lock +them up now, and the next time you go to +town sell them, and invest the money for Grace +Wolfe. Will you do this for me, John? It is +the only thing I shall ever be likely to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will, Emily!" said Mr. Montfort, +speaking with much more warmth than he had +hitherto shown. "It will be a grateful commission. +Shall I look?—these things are of great +value, Emily. There are thousands of dollars' +worth of trump—of trinkets here."</p> + +<p>"So much the better for Grace!"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing you would like to keep? +None of these diamonds?"</p> + +<p>"No; I detest diamonds! When a complexion +begins to go—never mind! Stay, though! +Margaret liked that pink pearl; sweet little +prim Margaret, who has given me most of the +little pleasure I have had these last three years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +You'll let her have it, John? I beg you to let +me give it to her!"</p> + +<p>"Surely, surely, my dear Emily. It is a +beautiful gem, and I am glad that my Margaret +should have something to remember you by +while you are gone. And now shake hands, for +I must be off."</p> + +<p>"You are going away?"</p> + +<p>"For the night only. I was to have spent +two or three days in town on business, but +hurried home on hearing of the fire. I shall +be back to-morrow, or next day at latest."</p> + +<p>"And—I may stay here till then, John?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Emily, I earnestly beg that you +will stay as long as it is convenient to you. +You must have many things to arrange; pray +consider Fernley as your own house until you +have everything comfortably settled."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, John! I heard your own voice +then, the kindest voice that—good-by, John +Montfort!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Gone, you say, Margaret? When did she +go? I fully expected to see her again."</p> + +<p>"This afternoon, Uncle John. We could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +persuade her to stay longer. Her man of business +came down this morning early, and arranged +everything with the farmer and the servants, +and finally took her and Antonia back with him. +It is very sudden! I should be frightened at +her attempting the voyage, but Grace says it +is just what Doctor Flower has been wishing +and hoping for. Poor Mrs. Peyton! I shall +miss her very much, Uncle John. She is very, +very lovable; and, somehow, these few days +have so softened and changed her—I hardly +know how to put it, but it is as if her heart +had waked up after a long sleep."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it has!" said Mr. Montfort, thoughtfully. +"Poor Emily! she has had an unhappy +life; yet when she was your age, Margaret, +Emily Silverton thought she had the world at +her feet. Life is instructive, my child. Did +she tell you what she had done about +Grace?"</p> + +<p>Margaret shook her head. "She said you +would have something to tell me, but she would +not say anything more. She was bent on keeping +control over her nerves, I think, so I tried +just to keep things quiet and cheerful, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +saw that was what she wanted. What is it +about Grace?"</p> + +<p>Thereupon Mr. Montfort told the story of +the jewels, and how he had taken them to town +with him the day before. "It will be a great +change for our Grace," he said. "She has +had very little money, I think you told me, +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, almost none, Uncle John. She has had +a very, very hard time; and since her father +died last year—she seems to have no other +relations—she has supported herself entirely. +Oh, this is a kind thing of Mrs. Peyton; and +I understand just how she feels and why she +wants to do it. Aren't the jewels worth a good +deal, Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"Guess how much, little girl!"</p> + +<p>"How can I? Perhaps as much as a thousand +dollars? Oh, Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Margaret; my child, Tiffany's head +man thinks,—he could not price them all exactly,—but, +roughly speaking, he thinks—that +this collection is worth—fifty thousand dollars. +Grace is, comparatively speaking, a rich woman."</p> + +<p>Margaret stood speechless, in utter amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +At this moment there was a sound, as +of a book falling to the ground, and a smothered +exclamation. Both started and looked round, +as Hugh Montfort rose from the corner where +he had been seated and came slowly forward. +He was very pale, and seemed to bear more +heavily on his stick than usual.</p> + +<p>"You knew I was here, Margaret?" he said, +with a look that tried to be unconcerned. "I +trust I have not overheard anything that I +should not. I was writing, and thought you +saw me when you came in."</p> + +<p>"No secrets, my boy, no secrets!" said Mr. +Montfort, heartily. "You heard this great +piece of news about our little friend, did you? +She does not know it herself yet; Margaret +must tell her. Margaret, you have deserved +this pleasure, my dear, and I rejoice in making +it over to you."</p> + +<p>The good man was glowing with pleasure and +good will; but for once he met no response +from Hugh, who, pale and gloomy, stared before +him as if he had seen a ghost.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," cried Mr. Montfort, changing +his tone at once, "you are not well. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +pale you are! or—you have had no bad news, +Hugh? Nobody ill at home, eh? Your father—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, sir, all well! Father is in perfect +trim; I have just been reading a letter from +him, Uncle John; you must hear it, sometime +when you are not busy. Don't look at me like +that, Margaret! I—my head aches a little, if +I must confess. Did you never see any one with +a headache before?"</p> + +<p>Was it possible that Hugh was out of temper? +Neither Mr. Montfort nor Margaret could believe +it at first; both gazed at him, expecting the +usual kindly smile to begin in his eyes and +break gradually over his face; but no smile +came. Mr. Montfort, who had lived many +years and seen many things, was the first to +recover himself; he passed Hugh with a friendly +pat on the shoulder, and, nodding to Margaret, +went out of the room. Margaret remained still, +looking earnestly in her cousin's face, unconscious +of offence.</p> + +<p>"Dear Hugh," she said, affectionately, "I am +so sorry! Let me get you something—one of +those tablets that relieved you last time."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" said Hugh. "It is nothing, Margaret,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +nothing at all. So Miss Wolfe is a rich +woman, is she, and spoilt for life? And you +are glad, you and Uncle John! Well, I am +sorry, for my part; sorry from the bottom of +my heart. It is an iniquity."</p> + +<p>"Hugh!"</p> + +<p>"It is! She will grow into an idle fine lady, +like this very Mrs. Peyton, who throws about +her gewgaws at every whim. Her life will be +frittered away over dresses and frippery and +fashion. Instead of a worker, a real woman, +with a woman's work and aims, you will have +a butterfly, pretty and useless, fluttering about +in the sunshine, unable to bear rough weather. +A fine piece of work it will be, the ruining of a +girl like that."</p> + +<p>Margaret stood aghast, and for a few moments +found no words. Her cousin's face +showed that he was only too deeply in earnest; +his eyes glowed with sombre fire, and a +dark red spot burned in his cheek. When Margaret +did speak at last, her eyes were tender, +but her voice was grave, almost stern. "Hugh," +she said, "I hardly know you; and I see that +you do not know Grace in the least. I thought—I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +thought you did—understand her, better +perhaps than any one else did; but if you can +say such things as these, I see I was utterly mistaken. +She, spoiled by a little prosperity? Oh, +how can you? For shame, Hugh!"</p> + +<p>Hugh looked up at her suddenly. "Oh, Margaret!" +he said. "Margaret, have patience with +me! I—I am not myself to-day. My head—there +is something wrong with me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," said Margaret, tenderly. "Go +and lie down, Hugh, won't you? And I'll bring +you some cracked ice. That always helps a +little."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to lie down, and I don't want +any cracked ice; thank you all the same, good +little sister-cousin! I'll go out into the garden, +I think. The trees will be the best thing for +me to-day. And—Margaret—forget what I +said, will you? It is none of my business, of +course; only—good-by, little girl!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE GARDEN</h3> + + +<p>"But, Grace—"</p> + +<p>"But-ter, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, please don't be absurd!"</p> + +<p>"My angel, I am not half so absurd as you +are. Why, in the name of all that is incongruous, +should I take this lady's money? Is thy +servant a dog, that she should do this thing?"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Grace! You are wholly, utterly +wrong. Listen to me! Let us sit down here +by the summer-house and have it out. No, you +have said enough; it is my turn now. You talk +about yourself, and your independence and freedom, +and I don't know what. My dear, I want +you to forget yourself, and think of her."</p> + +<p>"Of her? What difference does it make to +her?"</p> + +<p>"All the difference in the world, it may be. +What is that noise?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is I!" said Hugh, emerging from the summer-house. +"I seem fated to be an eavesdropper, +and yet I am not one by nature. Pardon me, +young ladies!"</p> + +<p>He was about to pass them with a formal bow, +but Margaret, with a sudden inspiration, caught +his arm. "No!" she cried, "I want you to hear +what I am going to say. You, too, misunderstand—sit +down, Hugh, and listen! Please!" +she added, in the tone that seldom failed to win +any heart.</p> + +<p>Hugh hesitated, but finally sat down, looking +very grim, and stared at the box-tree in front +of him. Margaret went on, hurriedly, moved +for once out of her gentle calm.</p> + +<p>"This lady—I must speak plainly, though +she is my friend—has lived a selfish, empty, +idle life. She was very beautiful and very rich, +really one of the great beauties and heiresses, +and—and that was all. She was brought up +by a worldly aunt—her mother died when she +was little—and married to some one whom she +cannot have cared for very much, I am afraid; +and she never had any children. Then came +all this ill health. Oh, Grace, I can't help it if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +it wasn't all real, she certainly has suffered a +great deal; and through it all she has been +alone, loving no one, and with no one to love +her. She will not see any of her own people, +cousins—she has no one nearer; she says they +are all mercenary. I don't know, of course, +but it is one of the terrible things about having +a great deal of money, that you think everybody +wants it, whether they do or not. Now, at last, +before it was too late,—oh, I am so thankful +for that,—the change has come. She has waked +up, and it is all owing to you, Grace. Yes, it +is! I have been fond of her, and she has petted +me, and been very good to me, and given me +things, but I never could open her eyes, try as +I would. Now, you have done it, dear. You +not only saved her life actually—yes, you did, +Grace; she told me all about it; she never +would have got out of that room alive but for +you—you not only saved her life, but you have +given her some idea of how to live. She wants +to do something in return. It is the first time, +I do believe, that she has wanted <i>really</i> to help +some one else. When she gave me prettinesses, +it was because it amused her to do it, not because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +I needed them, nor because she was thinking +specially about me.</p> + +<p>"Grace, if you refuse this; if you shut back +the kindly impulse, the desire to help some one, +I tell you you will be doing a wrong thing. It +is nothing in the world but pride, selfish pride, +that is speaking in you. Tell me again—tell +Hugh, what Mrs. Peyton said to you when she +went away."</p> + +<p>"She said—" Grace's voice had not its usual +cool evenness, but was husky, and faltered now +and then—"she said, 'Do not refuse my last +wish! I do not tell you what it is, for fear you +should refuse at once, and shut me up with +myself again. Do not refuse, for the sake of +Christian kindness, of which I have known +nothing hitherto, but which I mean to learn +something about if I can.'"</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"And then—she kissed me—Margaret, it is +brutal of you to make me tell this!—she kissed +me twice, and said—" Grace's voice broke. "I—cannot!" +she faltered.</p> + +<p>Margaret rose to her feet with a sudden impulse. +"Hark!" she said. "Is that Uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +John calling me? Wait here, please, both of +you!" and she ran off, never looking behind +her. It was the first and last deceitful act of +Margaret Montfort's life.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Hugh Montfort +stared at the box-tree. Grace cried a little, +quietly; then wiped away her tears, not +noticing them much, and observed an ant +running along the path. At last, "Well?" +said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Grace. "I am sorry to have +made such a spectacle of myself. Is there +anything to say?"</p> + +<p>Hugh plucked a box-leaf and scrutinized it +carefully.</p> + +<p>"They make these things so even!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Machinery never could—Let me tell you a +story. Do you mind? Once upon a time there +was a man—or—well, call him a man! He +was part of one, anyhow, as much as accident +allowed. He was not strong, but he could work, +and he meant to work, and do things he cared +about, and lead as good a life as he knew how. +He had been a good deal alone, somehow, though +he had dear good people of his own; he was an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +odd stick, I suppose, as odd as the one he walked +with."</p> + +<p>He stopped, glanced at his stick, with its +handle worn smooth as glass; then he went +on.</p> + +<p>"He had never seen much of women, except +his own family; never thought about them +much as individuals, though always in his mind +there was a dream—I suppose all men have it—of +some one he should meet some day, who +would turn the world from gray to gold. One +day—he saw a vision; and—after that—he +learned, not all at once, but little by little, that +life was not full and rounded, as he had thought +it, but empty and one-sided and unprofitable, if +this vision could not be always before his eyes; +if this one woman could not come into his life, +to be his star, his light, his joy and happiness. +She was poor, like himself. He thought of +working for her, of sharing with her the honest, +laborious, perhaps helpful life he had planned, +the life of a Western forester, living among the +woods and mountains, studying the trees he +loved, learning the secrets of nature at first +hand, teaching his beloved all the little he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +knew, and learning more, a thousandfold more, +from every look of her eyes, every tone of her +wonderful voice.</p> + +<p>"Well—while he dreamed—something happened. +Suddenly, by a wave of a wand, as in +the fairy tales, his maiden was transformed. +Instead of the orphan girl, working bravely +with her brave hands to earn her bread, he saw—a +rich woman! saw the woman he loved condemned +by the idle whim of an idle pleasure-seeker +to sit with folded hands, or play with +toys and trinkets. He was filled with rage; he +hated the very sound of the word money, because—it +seemed to him that this money would +rob him of his darling. I—he—"</p> + +<p>Hugh broke off suddenly. "I am the greatest +fool in the world!" he said. "Grace, do you +understand me? Do you know what I am trying +to say?"</p> + +<p>It was the merest whisper that replied, "I +don't—know—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do." Hugh caught the slender +hands, and held them close. "You know, you +must know, that I have cared for you ever since +that first wonderful moment, when you broke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +through the leaves like sunshine, and I saw the +face I had dreamed of all my life. You must +have felt it, all these weeks. Oh, Margaret is +right, I suppose. All she says is true enough; +if you can help this poor woman by taking her +wretched money, I suppose you will have to do +it. But—but I lose my princess, before ever +I could win her. I can't ask a rich woman to +be my wife."</p> + +<p>While Hugh was speaking, Grace's head had +drooped lower and lower, as if she shrank under +the weight that was laid upon her; but now +she looked up bravely, with a lovely light in +her eyes. "Can't you, Hugh?" she said. "It's +a pity you can't, Hugh, because—you could +have her for the asking."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>UNCLE JOHN'S BIRTHDAY</h3> + + +<p>If Timothy Bannan has had scant mention +in these pages, it is not because he was not an +important personage at Fernley. King of the +stable, governor of the dogs, chief authority on +all matters pertaining to what Gerald called +"four-leggers," he was as much a part of the +establishment as Frances herself. In person he +was a small man, with reddish-gray whiskers, +an obstinate chin, and a kindly twinkling eye. +He usually wore a red waistcoat with black +sleeves, and he was suspected of matrimonial +designs on Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>One morning, not long after the events of +which I have been telling, Bannan approached +his master, who was tying up roses, Margaret, +as usual, attending him with shears and ball of +twine.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir," said Bannan, touching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +his hat, "would it be convenient for me to take +a horse this evening, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort straightened himself, and looked +with friendly interest at his retainer.</p> + +<p>"A horse, Bannan? Certainly! What horse +do you want?"</p> + +<p>Bannan looked embarrassed. "I was thinking +of taking Chief, if you was anyways willing, +sir." Now Chief was the pride of the Fernley +stable. Mr. Montfort opened his eyes a little.</p> + +<p>"Going far, Bannan?"</p> + +<p>"N—not so very far, sir. I was wishful to +try him with the new cart, if you had no objections."</p> + +<p>The new cart was a particularly stylish and +comfortable wagonette, bought for Margaret to +take her young friends out in, and Mr. Montfort's +eyes opened still wider.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bannan—of course you will be careful. +You want to take some friends out, eh?"</p> + +<p>This simple question seemed to embarrass +Bannan strangely. He reddened, and taking +off his cap, turned it round and round in his +hands. "No, sir, I shouldn't presume—that +is to say, not exactly friends, sir, and yet not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +anyways the reverse. But if it's not agreeable +to you, sir, I'll take the old mare and the +Concord wagon."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Mr. Montfort, kindly. "Take +Chief and the cart by all means, Bannan. I +wish you a pleasant drive with your—friends." +Bannan thanked him and withdrew, and Mr. +Montfort turned to Margaret with a smile and +a sigh. "Does that mean Elizabeth and matrimony, +Margaret? What will Frances say?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Uncle, I am quite sure that Elizabeth +would disapprove as much as Frances of +Bannan's taking Chief and the wagonette. You +are too indulgent, dear sir."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am," said Mr. Montfort. "I +suppose, also, that I am too old to change. But +I never knew Bannan to do such a thing +before."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Bannan was standing at the +kitchen door, fuming. "If ever I do sich a +thing again, Frances, you may cut me up and +serve me in a gravy-boat."</p> + +<p>"Nobody'd touch ye!" said Frances. "Ye've +got to have juice to make gravy, ye little bones-bag. +I told ye let me see to it; men-folks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +always messes when they try to manage nice +things. It's like as if you started to whip cream +with a garding hose."</p> + +<p>"I don't care!" said Bannan. "'Twas me +the telegram come to, and 'twas me they expected +to see to it. You'd like to boss everything +and everybody on the place, Frances."</p> + +<p>"I'll boss you with this mop, little man, if +you give me any sauce," said Frances, with +massive calm. "Go away now and feed your +beasts; it's what you're best at."</p> + +<p>"But you'll have the supper ready and all, +Frances? If I can feed beasts, you can feed +their masters, I'm bound to own that," said +Bannan, presenting this transparent sop with +an air of hopeful diffidence.</p> + +<p>"Go 'long with ye!" said Frances, loftily, +yet with a suggestion of softening in her voice. +"I've kep' Mr. John's birthday for twenty +years, but I reckon you'd better tell me how to +do it this time."</p> + +<p>"And you'll tell nobody about—them—"</p> + +<p>But here Frances raised the mop with such a +businesslike air that Bannan took himself off, +grumbling and shaking his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>Left alone, Frances fell into a frenzy of preparation, +and when Margaret found her half an +hour later, she was beating eggs, stoning raisins, +and creaming butter, apparently all at the same +moment. An ardent consultation followed. +What flavor would Mr. John (Frances would +never say Mr. Montfort) like best for the ice-cream? +and the cake—would a caramel frosting +be best, or a boiled frosting with candied fruits +chopped into it? and for the small cakes, now, +and the tartlets?</p> + +<p>Mr. Montfort's birthday came, as most birthdays +do, once a year. Considering this, it was +a singular thing that he, the most methodical +of men, who turned his calendar as regularly as +he wound his watch, never seemed to remember +it. He never failed to be astonished at Margaret's +morning greeting. More than this, he +apparently forgot it as soon as it was over, for +he always had a fresh stock of astonishment on +hand for the health-imperilling feast that Frances +was sure to arrange for the evening. To-day +he took no notice of the fact that wherever he +went he came upon some girl or boy carrying +armfuls of flowers and ferns, or arranging them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +in bowls, jars, and vases. When he found his +desk heaped with a tangle of clematis and wild +lilies,—Peggy had dropped them there "just for +a minute," half an hour before,—this excellent +man merely said "Charming," and rescued his +pet Montaigne from the wet sprays which covered +it. In the course of the morning, Fernley +House was transformed into a bower of greenery, +lit up with masses of splendid color. Everywhere +drooped or nodded clusters of ferns, the ostrich +fern and the great Osmunda Regalis, with here +and there masses of maiden-hair, most delicate +and beautiful of all. In the library, especially, +the ferns were arranged with all the skill and +care that Margaret possessed. They outlined +the oaken shelves, their delicate tracery seeming +to lie lovingly against the rich mellow tints of +morocco and vellum; they waved from tall +vases of crystal and porcelain; they spread +their lace-like fronds in flat bowls and dishes. +"I don't see how there can be any left," said +Peggy; "it seems as if we had all the ferns in +the world, and yet in the woods it didn't seem +to make any difference. Oh, Jean, isn't it just +splendid!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Corking!" said Jean.</p> + +<p>"Jean, I won't have you say that."</p> + +<p>"Well, the Merryweathers say it all the time, +Peggy. They never say anything else, except +when Margaret is round; you know they don't."</p> + +<p>"The Merryweathers are boys, and you are a +girl, and there is all the difference in the world," +said Peggy, loftily. "Jean, it is high time you +went to school."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother school! I have two ponies to +break this fall, and Pa has promised to let me +drive the reaper around the hundred-acre +field."</p> + +<p>Peggy said nothing, being a wise as well as +an affectionate elder sister; but she resolved to +consult Hugh, and to write to "Pa" without +delay.</p> + +<p>So the morning passed in preparation and +mystery. Then in the afternoon came a drive +in the great open car, a delightful vehicle, holding +eight people comfortably. Peggy sat on the +box—happy Peggy!—and drove the spirited +black horses. Uncle John was by her side, and +they recalled merrily the day when, as John +Strong, he took his first drive with her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +decided that she was to be trusted with a +horse.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what fun we did have that summer!" +cried Peggy. "Only—we had no Uncle John. +Oh, Uncle, if we had Rita here, wouldn't it be +too absolutely perfect for anything?"</p> + +<p>"It would be very delightful," said Mr. +Montfort. "I would give a good deal to see +that dark-eyed lassie and her gallant Jack. +I think I must take you and Margaret to Cuba +one of these days, Peggy, to see them. How +would you like that, Missy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle John!" cried Peggy; and she +almost dropped the whip, in the effort to +squeeze his arm and turn a corner at the +same moment.</p> + +<p>But the best of all was when the whole +family assembled in the library before supper, +the girls in their very prettiest dresses, with +flowers in their hair, the lads brave in white +duck waistcoats, with roses and ferns in their +buttonholes. Then the girls presented the +gifts they had made for the beloved uncle; +Margaret's book, a fine old copy of the "Colloquies +of Erasmus," bound by her own hands in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +gold-stamped brown leather, Peggy's mermaid-penwiper, +with a long tail of sea-green sewing +silk, and the pincushion on which Jean had +spent many painful hours in her efforts to make +the ferns look like ferns instead of like green +hen feathers. Grace had woven a basket of +sweet rushes, of quaint and graceful pattern, +which Mr. Montfort <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'delared'">declared</ins> was what he had +dreamed of all his life, while Hugh produced +a box of wonderful cigars, which had a history +as mysterious and subtle as their fragrance. +Lastly, the Merryweathers, declaring +that they had no gift but themselves, and +that if Mr. Montfort would be graciously +pleased to accept them, they were his, proceeded +to go through a series of acrobatic performances, +which brought cries of admiration from +all the beholders.</p> + +<p>While this was going on, Margaret took +advantage of the interlude (though she was +loth to lose one of Gerald's graceful postures) +to run out and see if supper was ready. She +came back with a rueful countenance, and +whispered to Peggy, "Supper will not be ready +for ten minutes yet, and Frances is in a most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +frightful temper. She actually drove me out +of the kitchen; said she would not be bothered +with foolish children, and she would not send +supper in till Bannan came back, if it cost her +her place."</p> + +<p>"Bannan? What has Bannan to do with +supper?"</p> + +<p>"Bringing something, I suppose; some extra +frill she has prepared as a surprise. She is +always savage when she has a surprise on foot. +Hark! There are wheels now. Listen! Yes, +they are going round to the back door. Bannan +has come, then, and we may hope for food. +Oh, do look at those boys! Did you ever see +anything like that?"</p> + +<p>All eyes were fixed on the twins, who, +after every variety of separate antic, now proceeded +to perform what they called a patent +reversible waltz. Standing on their hands, they +twined their feet together in the air, and revolved +gracefully, moving in unison, and keeping +time to the waltz they whistled. The whole +company was watching this proceeding with +such absorbed attention that no one saw the +door at the back of the hall open silently; no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +one noticed the figure that stole noiselessly +through, and now stood motionless in the doorway. +A young woman, slender, richly dressed, +beautiful exceedingly; with a certain foreign +grace, which struck the eye even more than her +beauty. But it was neither the grace nor the +beauty that was first to be seen now; it was +the light of love in the large dark eyes, the soft +fire of joy and tenderness and mirth that shone +from them, and seemed to irradiate her whole +figure as she stood there, erect, yet seeming to +sway forward, her hand on the door, her eyes +bent on the group before her. Her gaze wandered +for a moment to the guests: the revolving +boys, Grace and Hugh in their quiet corner +together, Jean staring with open eyes and +mouth; but after a wondering look, it came +back and settled again on the central group, +Mr. Montfort, in his great armchair, Peggy and +Margaret each on a stool beside him, leaning +against his knees. Was the group complete? +or was there room for another by that good +man's side?</p> + +<p>Jean was the first to look up and see the +newcomer. She started violently. "My goodness!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +she cried, "who is that?" The next +instant a cry rang out, as Margaret and Peggy +sprang forward, "Rita! Rita!"</p> + +<p>But Rita was too quick for them. Before +they were well on their feet she had them both +in her arms, and was weeping, sobbing, laughing, +and kissing, all in a breath. With the +next breath she had sunk at Mr. Montfort's feet, +and, seizing his hand, pressed it passionately to +her lips.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," cried Uncle John, blushing +like a girl, and drawing away his hand in great +discomposure. "Don't, my love; pray don't. +Rita! is it possible that this is really you? +What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"What does it mean, my uncle? It means +that even in Cuba we know the days of the +month. Dearest and best of men, I wish you +a thousand returns of the day,—five, ten +thousand returns, and each one more blissful +than the last. Marguerite, my angel, you are +more beautiful than ever. Angel is no longer +the word; you are a seraph! Embrace me +again! Peggy, you are a mountain; but a +veritable mountain of roses and cream! Dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +little huge creature, I adore you. But where, +then, is the rest of me? Jack! Figure to +yourself a husband who skulks in doorways at +a moment like this! Come forth, thou!"</p> + +<p>Jack Del Monte advanced laughing; behind +him in the passage the three conspirators, +Frances, Elizabeth, and Bannan, peered triumphant. +"My dear," said Jack, "I was +merely waiting for my cue. You would not +have had me spoil your entrance, you know you +would not. Uncle John—I may say Uncle +John? thanks!—I hope you will forgive Rita's +little stratagem for the sake of the pleasure it +has given her."</p> + +<p>"My dear nephew," said Uncle John, "you +have brought me the most enchanting birthday +gift that ever a man had. Let me look at you +again, Rita! If ever happiness agreed with a +person—but I must not begin upon compliments +now. I want you to know these cousins +and friends. Here is Hugh Montfort and Jean; +here is Grace Wolfe, who is to be your cousin +one of these good days; and here are our friends +Gerald and Philip Merryweather. You have all +heard of one another; let us all be friends at +once, without further ceremony, and keep this +joyful feast together."</p> + +<p>"Supper is served, sir," said Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>A joyful feast it was indeed. The table, +decked with ferns and roses, was covered with +every good thing that Frances could think of, +and she could think of a good many. The +candles shed their cheerful light on all, though +the faces hardly needed the artificial light. +Amid general mirth, Rita told of her plan; +her letter of inquiry to Frances and Elizabeth, +asking if all were well, and if their coming +would make any inconvenience. Then the +telegram to Bannan, and the arrival, to find +him awaiting them with the best horse the +stable afforded; and, finally, their stealthy +entrance at the back door. All had been triumphantly +successful, and as Rita told her +story, she laughed and clapped her hands with +the glee of a child, while every face glowed +responsive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 348px;"> +<img src="images/gs08.png" width="348" height="300" alt=""'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT LIVES UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"" title=""'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT LIVES UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT LIVES UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"And now," said Rita Del Monte, springing +to her feet, and lifting high her glass, "I wish +to propose a toast—the only fitting toast for +this night. I propose, dear friends, and dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +strangers whom I hope to have for friends, the +health of the best man—ah, Jack, you have +not had time yet, nor you others; but courage, +time is before you!—of the best man, I say, +that lives upon this earth to-day; the dearest, +the kindest—oh, all please drink to the health +of my Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>One and all were upon their feet; all bending +forward, glass in hand, eager and joyous, their +eyes shining with love and admiration; and +from one and all came the same glad cry, +"Uncle John!"</p> + +<p>"Because if one hasn't the luck to be really +his nephew," said Gerald, "the least one can +do is to make a bluff at it."</p> + +<p>And here, at this happy moment, let us leave +our friends. Good-by, Margaret—dear Margaret! +Good-by, Peggy and Rita, Hugh and +Grace, Gerald and Phil,—we may see you again, +boys,—Jean and Jack! Good-by, and good +luck to you! Last of all, good-by to you, John +Montfort. If you are not the best man in the +world, you are at least a good one! Wise and +strong, courteous and kindly, brave and true, +long may you live, as now you sit, in your own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +beautiful home, surrounded by those you love +best in the world. Love, kindness, and truth; +having these, what more do you lack? Good-by, +John Montfort.</p> + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fernley House, by Laura E. 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