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diff --git a/25446.txt b/25446.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81693da --- /dev/null +++ b/25446.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5295 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERNLEY HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + +FERNLEY HOUSE + + + + +BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +By Laura E. Richards + + +_The_ MARGARET SERIES + + Three Margarets + Margaret Montfort + Peggy + Rita + Fernley House + + +_The_ HILDEGARDE SERIES + + Queen Hildegarde + Hildegarde's Holiday + Hildegarde's Home + Hildegarde's Neighbors + Hildegarde's Harvest + + DANA ESTES & COMPANY + Publishers + Estes Press, Summer St., Boston + +[Illustration: "HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, WERE +ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY."] + + + + +FERNLEY HOUSE + +BY +LAURA E. RICHARDS + +AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY," "QUEEN HILDEGARDE," "GEOFFREY +STRONG," ETC. + +Illustrated by +ETHELDRED B. BARRY + +[Illustration] + + BOSTON + DANA ESTES & COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + + + + _Copyright, 1901_ + BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY + + _All rights reserved_ + + FERNLEY HOUSE + + Colonial Press + Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. + Boston, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. A DUET 11 + + II. MRS. PEYTON'S COMPANION 23 + + III. AN ARRIVAL 33 + + IV. UNCLE JOHN'S IDEA 46 + + V. A VISION 58 + + VI. ALI BABA 70 + + VII. MORE ARRIVALS 86 + + VIII. HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 100 + + IX. ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR 114 + + X. GRACE'S SYSTEM 128 + + XI. THE MYSTERIES OF FERNLEY 143 + + XII. THE EGG OF COLUMBUS 161 + + XIII. IN THE TWILIGHT 168 + + XIV. THE FIRE 183 + + XV. JEWELS: AND AN AWAKENING 195 + + XVI. FOR AULD LANG SYNE 205 + + XVII. IN THE GARDEN 217 + + XVIII. UNCLE JOHN'S BIRTHDAY 225 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + "HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, + WERE ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY" _Frontispiece_ + + "MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY" 29 + + "AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED, RED-CHEEKED AND BREATHLESS" 33 + + "SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST EYES" 86 + + "SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW BRANCH" 137 + + "ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD PORTRAITS" 148 + + "A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE ROOM" 181 + + "'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT LIVES + UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'" 238 + + + + +FERNLEY HOUSE + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A DUET + + +"Well, Margaret!" + +"Well, Uncle John!" + +"Not a word to throw at a dog, as Rosalind says?" + +"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." + +"Very quickly!" Mr. Montfort assented, watching his smoke rings float +upward. + +"And Peggy is coming; and--oh, we shall be all right, of course we +shall; only--we do miss them, don't we, Uncle?" + +"I should think we did! A house is a poor place without children; and we +flatter ourselves that our two--eh, Margaret?" + +"Oh, they are the dearest children in the world," said Margaret with +conviction. "There is no possible doubt about that." + +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. + +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. + +Fernley was in the full glory of early summer. 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. + +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? + +And little Susan D.! the warm clasp of 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." + +Margaret was roused from her reverie by her uncle's voice. + +"When did you say Peggy was coming, my dear?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Uncle John, I really do believe that you think housekeeping consists +entirely in dusting and setting things to wrongs, as you call it." + +"Well, my love, I confess that has always 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!" + +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 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 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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; 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. + +"Oh, Uncle John!" cried Margaret, starting up in distress. "My poor +Queen! my poor Sheba! they will--" + +"I wouldn't worry, Margaret," said Mr. Montfort. "Sheba can take care of +herself, if I am not greatly mistaken." + +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? + +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. + +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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +Margaret ran up-stairs lightly, saying to herself as she ran, "Dull, +with that man? and Peggy and the puppies beside? Margaret Montfort, I +_am_ ashamed of you!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MRS. PEYTON'S COMPANION + + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Not more children? Not another set of 'The Orphans of Fernley,' bound +in blue denim? That would be unendurable." + +"No; four-legged pets this time. We have two dogs, Mrs. Peyton; +beautiful Gordon setters. I hope you are fond of dogs." + +"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." + +"What do you mean, Mrs. Peyton?" asked Margaret, always prepared for any +whim of her whimsical neighbor. "Are you setting up a dog too?" + +"No! nothing half so comfortable as a dog. A fox, or wolf, or hyena, or +something of that 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 _think_ it was Miss Hyena, but it might +be. It's an unusual name, but she is recommended as an unusual person." + +"Mrs. Peyton! you said you never would try it again. And you know I am +always ready to come and read to you." + +"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." + +"Doctor Flower? has he been out again?" + +"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 whoever she is. I am to try her +for a month; I sha'n't probably keep her a week." + +"A nurse?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"To-morrow, I believe; or is it to-day? where is the note? Tuesday! Is +this Tuesday? It cannot be." + +"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 +wheels this moment. Can she be coming now, Mrs. Peyton?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She led the way into the dining-room, and rang the bell. "You will have +lunch?" she said, "or would you rather have tea?" + +"Tea, please," said the stranger; and her voice had a deep, musical +note, that fell pleasantly on Margaret's ear. + +"I am sorry Mrs. Peyton is unable to see me. Is it a real headache, or +doesn't she want to?" + +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. + +"Doctor Flower told me somewhat about her," Miss Fox went on. "He +thinks--he wants me to rouse her to effort." + +She spoke so quietly, her whole air was one of such calm and repose, +that Margaret looked at her wonderingly. + +[Illustration: "MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY."] + +"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, too, no doubt, at times; I +suppose most invalids are." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Margaret started, and blushed violently. "I _beg_ 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!" + +"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 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." + +"I only asked if you had come far." + +"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." + +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." + +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; 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. + +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?" + +"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." + +"Fernley!" repeated Miss Wolfe, pausing and looking at Margaret with an +altered expression. + +"Fernley House, Mr. Montfort's place. That is where I live. Why--I have +never introduced myself all this time, have I? I am Mr. Montfort's +niece; my name is Montfort, too, Margaret Montfort." + +"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!" + +She nodded, kissed her hand gravely to Margaret, and turning, followed +the maid up-stairs. + +Margaret looked after her for a moment in amazement. "What a _very_ +extraordinary girl!" she said. "She seemed to know my name. I wonder +how." + +She paused, shook her head, then went soberly home across the park, +wondering how the new venture would turn out. + +[Illustration: "AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED RED-CHEEKED AND +BREATHLESS."] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +AN ARRIVAL + + +"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." + +"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." + +At this moment Polly appeared, red-cheeked and breathless. A gentleman +was below, asking for Mr. Montfort, and she couldn't find Mr. Montfort +nowhere in the house; so then he said could he see Miss Margaret? + +"Is it any one I know, Polly?" asked Margaret. + +"I don't know, Miss Marget; I niver see him. A lame gentleman with a +crutch; he looks just lovely!" added Polly, with effusion. + +"Miss Margaret didn't ask you how he looked, Polly!" said Elizabeth, +severely. "You let your tongue run away with you." + +"Tell him I will be down directly, Polly," said Margaret. + +"Now, Miss Margaret, do you think you'd better?" asked Elizabeth. "If +it's not a tramp--" + +"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." + +"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 of some kind, and why +should you be annoyed, with all the linen to go over? He can call again, +most likely." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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 glance in the +mirror, and went quickly down-stairs. + +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!" + +"Cousin Margaret?" said the young man, inquiringly. + +"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." + +They shook hands cordially, scanning each other with earnest and +friendly eyes. + +"I should have known you, of course, from your picture, if not from +Peggy's ardent descriptions," said Hugh Montfort. + +"And I ought to have known you, surely," cried Margaret; "only, not +knowing you were in this part of the country, you see--" + +"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, being hailed as cousin by an unheralded +vagabond with a stick." + +"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!" + +"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." + +Hugh laughingly disclaimed starvation, and begged to wait till their +tea-time. "I am not 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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Montfort laughed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is indeed, sir!" said Hugh. "I've 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." + +"True enough, I believe!" said Mr. Montfort, taking down the great club, +covered from end to end with strange and delicate carving. + +"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." + +"Oh, Uncle John! and you held on?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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!" + +"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?" + +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. + +Then her thoughts turned to matters of practical hospitality, and she +sped to the kitchen, to tell the good news to Frances. + +"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!" + +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 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." + +"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." + +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." + +"Don't kill us, Frances!" cried Margaret, as she ran away, laughing. "I +really think the cold fowl will be quite enough." + +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. + +"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. + +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 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 am 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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +UNCLE JOHN'S IDEA + + +"Margaret, I have an idea!" + +"I am so glad, Uncle John; your ideas are always pleasant ones, +especially when they make your eyes twinkle. Is this about more dogs?" + +"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." + +"Isn't he, Uncle? I never saw a more interesting person, I think. How +well he talks, and how much he knows!" + +"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!" + +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. + +"Why, Uncle John! And you have never told me your idea." + +"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." + +"Yes, Uncle John." + +"And Peggy Montfort is a charming girl." + +"Certainly she is. Dear Peggy!" + +"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?" + +"Uncle John! I say that you are the very cleverest person in the world, +as well as the dearest." + +"A little house-party, you see," Mr. Montfort went on, beaming with +pleasure at the delight 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?" + +"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." + +"And you like the idea? You don't think it would make too much work, too +much responsibility, my dear little niece?" + +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-- + +"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 _so_ dear!" + +"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?" + +"The surprise, by all means; Peggy loves a surprise, you know. Oh, how +can I wait a whole week to see her?" + +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. + +"Now, about rooms!" he said, waking up after a few minutes. "And we must +get more help, Margaret. Frances--" + +"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." + +"Elizabeth is a treasure," said Mr. Montfort. "So is Frances, of +course, a treasure--only with dragon attachment." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"So it is, my dear; so it is. You are the fairy princess, and I am the +old magician--or the bear, if you like better, that used to be a prince +when he was young." + +"The king that used to be a bear would be more like it," said Margaret, +gaily. "How about John Strong, Mr. Montfort?" + +"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." + +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. + +"My dear, this lovely person is not looking well to-day. Something is +wrong with her." + +"Oh, Uncle, I am sorry. She had her bath 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." + +"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!" + +Hugh Montfort, who had come in unobserved, was leaning on his stick, +watching them with some amusement. + +"Who is this Jack, if I may ask, Uncle John? He seems to be a rather +remarkable sort of chap." + +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 +General 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." + +"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." + +The General glowed responsive, and Mr. Montfort glowed too, with +pleasure. "Fond of roses?" 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." + +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." + +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 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?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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, and she returned the pinch with +a confidential pat on his arm. + +"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 +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.'" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A VISION + + +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. + +Hugh was no less delighted with his uncle and cousin than they with him. +Always and necessarily a student and observer rather than a 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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +"What did he want then, a Lovely Person? Did he want her to love him? +Well, she did, ardently; so that is all right." + +A rustling followed, and the voice spoke again: + +"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." + +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: + +"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 +something; no, not on her dress; a little farther off, a precious +Poppet!" + +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: + +"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." + +Another sneeze and yawn, louder than before. + +"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!" + +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: + +"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 our head, my Popolorum Tibby. Now, what is the matter with him?" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You don't think she may have returned lately, without your knowing it?" + +"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?" + +"Oh--idle curiosity; or curiosity, whether idle or not. And--there are +no other young girls?" + +"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 was so very particularly nice of you to come, Cousin Hugh." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +She paused. "Yes?" said Hugh, suggestively. "Some one you know?" + +"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 girl, with a +most interesting face. I want to see her again; and yet,--somehow,--I am +rather afraid of her." + +"Is she formidable, this she-wolf?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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 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." + +"I think I would," said Hugh Montfort. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ALI BABA + + +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 tete-a-tete with her new neighbor. + +"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." + +Hugh was on the verandah, waiting for her, and seemed really +disappointed when he heard 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? + +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?" + +"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." + +"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 +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?" + +"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,--_is_ 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." + +"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; there are about forty, if I remember rightly." + +"Uncle John! is there really a jewel-casket? What do you mean? There +cannot be any more than those Aunt Faith had, surely." + +"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. + +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?" + +"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 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?" + +"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." + +"Inigo Jones?" + +"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!" + +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?" + +"Turn away!" said Hugh, much amused at the excitement of his staid +little cousin. + +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. + +"Well, upon my word!" he said. "I never heard of anything like this, out +of the 'Arabian Nights.'" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"No; isn't it a pity? I have so often wondered 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?" + +"I do not, Margaret. I should say that you might safely tell me +anything, of however fearful a nature, in this iron-bound retreat." + +"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?" + +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. + +"Tell any one? No indeed, my dear little cousin. It is a young girl's +fancy, and a very sweet and graceful one." + +"Then you don't think it may be true?" asked Margaret, disappointed. + +"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?" + +"Hugh, I am afraid you are practical, after all!" said Margaret. "And I +was hoping you would turn out romantic." + +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? + +"And we have not explored the boxes yet!" 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!" + +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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"There must be one!" said Hugh. "_Papa Patriae_ would not have been so +unkind as to leave such a thing unmarked. Look on the bottom, Margaret!" + +Margaret looked, and there, to be sure, was a tolerably long +inscription, in minute script. + +"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.'" + +"That _is_ 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." + +He took down an oblong box of curious pattern, and opened it. "What +upon earth--Margaret, what are these? Grape-scissors? Asparagus-tongs? +They don't look like either." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +Margaret laughed, and patted the smooth waves of her hair. "It _is_ +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." + +"You are extremely good, Miss Montfort. What have you got hold of now?" + +"'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!" + +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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +Margaret looked up, guilty but happy, from her effort at capturing a +fourth vase with her little finger, the only one left unencumbered. +"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?" + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MORE ARRIVALS + + +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. + +"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." + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST +EYES."] + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Margaret assented, making a mental note 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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, we did have a very good time. The children were here,--Basil and +Susan D.,--and 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." + +"Oh, might I help? I am not a bit tired, and I just love to arrange +flowers. Do let me help, Margaret!" + +"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 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. + +"'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 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.'" + +"How beautiful that is!" said Margaret. + +"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." + +"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." + +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?" + +"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 at Fernley. I +used to enjoy Rita's singing intensely; she has a very sweet voice." + +"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." + +"Indeed? Where were you? Not in your room? I am sure there is no one in +the house who sings." + +"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?" + +"No! I wonder too, very much. No one 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--" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +"Margaret! Margaret! Margaret!" + +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 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?" + +Speech was impossible for Margaret, but a voice from behind broke in: + +"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." + +Peggy loosed her hold, somewhat abashed, but received an embrace from +her uncle so warm that she brightened again instantly. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"What is it, Margaret?" + +"_Why, Peggy!_" + +"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--" + +"I wasn't looking at your necktie, child. Peggy, you are taller than I +am! How dare you, miss?" + +"Oh, Margaret! I really thought I had done something--why, yes, so I am +taller; but only just the least little bit, Margaret." + +"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." + +"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 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--" + +"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?" + +"Hugh! what does it mean? When--how did you get here? You weren't to +start till next week." + +"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." + +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." + +"Not really, Hugh? I didn't really hurt you?" cried Peggy, anxiously. + +"No, no! not really. See now, Margaret wants you. Run along, Samsonina." + +Peggy ran into the house, casting delighted glances all about her. + +"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--" + +"Peggy! Peggy! Peggy! no extravagance!" + +"No, Margaret, I won't. Only how can I help it, when I am so happy, and +you are so--" + +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 could bear another, Peggy, or is this enough for to-day?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"Who is in there?" cried Peggy, her eyes opening to their fullest and +roundest extent. + +"Go in and see," said Margaret, and she opened the door and pushed Peggy +gently in, and shut it again. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF + + +"Well, Jean!" + +"Well, Peggy!" + +"What do you think of them?" + +"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." + +"Goose! I didn't mean them. I meant Uncle John and Margaret. Aren't they +dear? Did I say half enough about them, Jean?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"Oh, no, Jean, not quite all the time." + +"Well, awfully often, anyhow. I know you did." + +"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.'" + +"Well, what shall I say? I don't know anything else." + +"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 _did_ say 'awfully' +most of the time; anyhow, I did it enough to trouble Margaret 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + + "'Maud and Madge in their robes of white, + The prettiest nightgowns under the sun!'" + +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." + +"Yes, but you didn't hear the beginning," said Peggy, "or you would know +that you two here are the _very_ 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." + +"Where is she now?" asked Margaret. "Have you heard from her lately?" + +"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?" + +"What noise? I heard nothing," said Margaret. + +"I thought I heard some one speak, outside the window." + +They listened for a moment, but all was quiet. + +"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,--" + +"Tu-whit!" said a voice. "In this connection only, I may be permitted to +remark, tu-whoo!" + +"_Grace!_" 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. + +"I address the mistress of the dwelling. Is there admittance for a +miscellaneous quadruped, Margaret Montfort?" + +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. + +"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 Margaret, +with my bonnet on. And it is a _great_ 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." + +"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." + +She kissed Grace, who returned the kiss warmly. But now Peggy, who had +been silent for a moment in sheer amazement, broke in: + +"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." + +The situation was soon explained. Jean, who had hung back, shy and +frightened, was brought forward and introduced; and soon all four girls +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You threw the cup, too? Grace!" + +"Naturally I threw the cup. I am going on the principle of doing exactly +what she tells me 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!" + +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 time; but she had never +attempted any more severe measure than this. + +"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." + +"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." + +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? + +With one of her sudden movements, Grace turned to her, and put her hands +on her shoulders. "Behold my Innocent happy!" she said. "What of the +other Owls, Babe? Do they hoot happily, and flap friskily?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"She was afraid--" Peggy hesitated. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"There is nothing distinctively unchristian, I 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." + +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!" + +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 from the branches; beyond +the dark masses of trees, the broad lawns lay in green and silver. + +"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!" + +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. + +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 +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-- + +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: + + "Trois anges sont venus ce soir, + M'apportaient de bien belles choses!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR + + +"Jerusalem!" said Philip Merryweather. + +"And Madagascar!" responded his twin brother. "Well, what did I tell +you, old Towser?" + +"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." + +Phil sat up in bed, and looked about the great nursery, into which the +early sun was shining brightly. + +"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?" + +"This!" replied Gerald, throwing a pillow 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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"So he does!" said Gerald, eagerly. "I didn't see it before. Queer +stunt, too, because she always makes me think of Hildegarde." + +"Who? Miss Peggy? I don't--" + +"No, no! Who said anything about Miss Peggy? Miss Montfort, of course." + +"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--" + +"That's what I mean!" said Gerald, eagerly. "There's something of that +quiet way, that 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?" + +"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. + +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-- + +"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 +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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"The Ape?" + +"The Old Un. My brother, Long-leggius Ridiculus. Christian name Philip, +but what has he done that I should call him that?" + +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?" + +"It might have been!" said Gerald, with 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." + +"Do you mind if I ask," said Margaret; "is 'cork' a complimentary term?" + +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 course you +don't either, Miss Montfort. I'll try not to do it again, truly I will." + +"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--" + +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. + +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: + +"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 come, too. Do try to make her, won't you, Mr. +Merryweather?" + +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." + +"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." + +"The Horny? Not--" + +"Yes, Grace Wolfe. Think of it! Do you 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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +Every one acquiesced in the arrangement, and, as they went out into the +garden, Peggy managed to slip beside her brother. + +"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." + +A faint color crept into Hugh's brown cheek. + +"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." + +"Hugh, don't be ridiculous. Then it's all right, and I am so glad! Thank +you, dear." + +She was springing away, but Hugh called her back. + +"One moment, Peggy. This--this friend of yours seems to be a remarkable +person. Has she other accomplishments besides climbing? Did I hear you +speak of singing?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +The "lovely duckies" were Nip and Tuck, who came leaping and dancing up +the walk, wagging and sneezing, with every demonstration of frantic joy. + +"Which is which? Nip, oh, you dear! Give a paw! Do they know how to +give a paw, Hugh?" + +"They know how to fetch," said Hugh. "Here, Tuck! here, boys! What have +I got?" + +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 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." + +"Hurrah!" said Gerald, much relieved. "I was afraid she would think--I +didn't know whether she would approve," he concluded, somewhat lamely. + +It _was_ 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 that +they would be too tired for their afternoon run. + +"She takes care of everything, you see!" said Gerald, aside to his +brother. "All without any fuss; that's just like Hilda, too." + +"Yes," said Phil. "Appears to be a corker!" + +"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?" + +Philip looked up in amazement, and saw his brother flushed, and +evidently annoyed in earnest. + +"Well, may I be split and buttered!" said Phil. + +"I wish you were!" said Gerald, forcing a laugh. "Come along, and don't +be an ass!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +GRACE'S SYSTEM + + +"Margaret!" + +"Yes, Mrs. Peyton." + +"Is that door shut? lock it, will you? and--just go and look out of the +window, please. No one there? Thank you!" + +She sank back on her pillows with a sigh of relief. + +"What is it?" asked Margaret, soothingly. "What troubles you, dear Mrs. +Peyton?" + +"I am frightened!" said Emily Peyton. + +"Frightened?" + +"Yes. I am afraid of that girl, Margaret." + +"What girl? You cannot possibly mean Grace?" + +Mrs. Peyton glanced around her. Evidently she did mean Grace. + +"She behaves so!" she said, in a low voice. "I don't think she is in her +right mind, to begin with; it is terrible to be with a person who may +break out into madness at any moment." + +"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?" + +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." + +"Thank you!" said Margaret, soberly. + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"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 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." + +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. + +"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, 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!" + +"Indeed, I am not laughing, dear Mrs. Peyton." + +"She says--this girl says--she thinks I could--get up. Get up and do +things, I mean, like other people. Did you ever hear of such nonsense?" + +Mrs. Peyton laughed; but she looked eagerly at Margaret, and there was +something in her eyes that had never been there before. + +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. + +"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!" + +But the lady's mood changed. In a flash, even as Margaret was gazing at +her with eager, 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. + +"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--" + +She stopped suddenly, seeing the grave compassion in Margaret's eyes. + +[Illustration: "SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW +BRANCH."] + +"Don't speak to me!" she cried, angrily. "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. + +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. + +"Come up!" said the Goat. + +Margaret smiled, and shook her head. "My dear Grace, I never climbed a +tree in my life. I should not know where to begin." + +"Time you learned!" said Grace, gravely. "There is no knowing when the +race will return to arboreal habits. Come, Margaret, I want you!" + +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 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. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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 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?" + +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?" + +"Yes. Grace, it frightens me, all this wild work. Are you sure what you +are doing?" + +"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. _Voila!_" + +Margaret looked at her earnestly; she met a gaze so full, so clear, so +brave, that her own spirit rose to meet it. + +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 love me a little, for I loved you before ever I +saw you." + +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?" + +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, _voila_! Her mind +was prepared for the marvellous, and she found it. Nothing simpler than +that." + +"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." + +"I asked her if she had ever heard of it. A simple question! Apparently +she had. Come, 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." + +"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." + +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?" + +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 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." + +"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!" + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE MYSTERIES OF FERNLEY + + +"Now, Uncle John!" + +"Now, Margaret!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Oh, cherries!" said Phil. + + "Up into the tree of cherry, + Who should climb but little Jerry?" + +"Pooh! pooh!" said Mr. Montfort. "What are cherries for except to eat, I +should like to 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." + +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. + +"Once upon a time," Mr. Montfort began, and was greeted with a chorus of +disappointment. "Oh, Uncle John! You said it was true." + +"Not a fairy story this time, sir, please; give us the real thing!" + +"Will you be quiet, you impetuous creatures?" asked Uncle John. "It is +true, so far as I know. And if you interrupt me again--" + +"We will not!" + +"Hear us swear!" cried the young people. + +"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 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." + +"Oh, Uncle John! but has any one looked for them?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Shall we divide our forces and go in small parties?" inquired Hugh, +looking at Grace. + +"I say we go just as it happens," said Peggy. "I think that will be much +more exciting." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +[Illustration: "ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD +PORTRAITS."] + +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." + +"The Wood-nymph?" + +"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--" + +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. + +"My dear child," cried Margaret, running toward her, "what is it? Are +you hurt?" + +"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?" + +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!" + +"What closet, dear? This one? Why, this is the broom closet. There is +nothing here to frighten you, Jean." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Lay figure?" faltered Jean, still trembling and hanging back. + +"Yes, the model. Grandmother Montfort used to paint a great deal, and +she had this creature made to stand for the figure. Come and look at it, +dear child." + +Gently and persuasively she drew the trembling girl forward; the others +all pressed behind her. + +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. + +"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." + +"It's no wonder she was frightened, though," 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." + +While they were all laughing over Mrs. Body, and commenting upon her +various points, Gerald slipped round to Margaret's side. + +"Miss Montfort," he said, speaking in a low tone, "do you remember the +roarer?" + +"Indeed I do, Mr. Merryweather. Do you know, you never showed me the +place. You had to go away the next day, you remember." + +"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?" + +"Oh," said Margaret, "that would be delightful! But--it is quite dark, +isn't it? and they have all the candles." + +"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." + +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--" + +"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!" + +"Is that the way you get everything you want?" said Margaret, laughing, +as she followed him half-reluctantly down-stairs. + +"One way; there are others. This is the best, since it procures me your +company. See, now! in this niche here, behind the big picture!" + +He passed his hand along a panel; it swung back, revealing blackness. + +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." + +"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!" + +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 ghastly upturned faces, their blood-stained robes, glimmering +spectral white in the--" + +"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." + +"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." + +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, prepared +for a vigorous pull; then paused, and looked at his companion. "I hear +voices!" he said. "Hark!" + +They listened. A low murmur came up from below; the voices were muffled, +by distance or intervening substances, and could not be distinguished. + +"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. + +"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--" + +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!" + +"All right!" said Gerald. "Stay just where 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?" + +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. + +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--" + +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. + +"Who's this here in my pantry? Come out of that, ye rascal, before I set +the dogs on ye!" + +Gerald Merryweather uttered a yell of delight. "Destiny!" he shouted. +"My fate cries out. Quits, Mrs. Cook, quits! Come to my arms!" + +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. + +"For shame, sir!" said Frances. "Do behave, now, Mr. Gerald! I never see +such a bold boy since born I was." + +"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!" + +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,-- + + "I'll dress thee all in pongo silk, + And crown thee with a bowl of milk; + And hail thee, till my last breath passes, + The queen of sugar and molasses. + +A poet, as you observe. Nothing to what I can do, give me time and a +yard measure. Now tell me--" + +Margaret's voice from above interrupted him. + +"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?" + +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. + +"No!" cried Gerald. "I say, you haven't--you have! eccentric Jiminy, you +have found it!" + +"I think I have!" said Margaret, who was fairly trembling with +excitement. "Look! the letters on the lid! oh, Mr. Merryweather!" + +The object she held was a box some eight inches square, of ebony or some +other dark wood, banded with silver. On the lid were inlaid, also in +silver, the letters C. M. + +"Christina Montfort!" said Margaret. "Oh, to think of my being the one +to find it!" + +"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." + +"It is locked," said Margaret. "We must wait, and try some of Uncle +John's keys." + +"Take care!" exclaimed Gerald. "The bottom is dropping out. Hold your +hand under it!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE EGG OF COLUMBUS + + +"Why, yes!" said Mr. Montfort. "It is my egg, certainly." + +"Oh, Uncle John!" + +"Well, sir, then--" + +"Then you know all the--" + +"Was it--" + +"Did you--" + +"Tell am what--" + +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." + +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 motionless and mute. He laughed +heartily, and threw himself back in his chair. + +"I promised you a merry game," he said. "Have you had it?" + +The young people nodded like mandarins, but uttered no sound. + +"I promised you nothing more. In fact, I warned you not to expect +anything more. On your own heads be egg and emptiness. + +"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 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?" + +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." + +"Jim's Retreat," said Mr. Montfort. "He 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." + +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. + +"Wouldn't--you--like--to--know?" he began slowly, his eyes turning from +one to the other. Suddenly he broke off. + +"There! the play is over, children. Margaret, you found the casket, you +shall find the--run your hand along the back of my chair here, my dear; +where it feels cold, press downward." + +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. + +"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 +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!" + +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?" + +"Aquamarine," said Mr. Montfort. "They are beautiful, though not of +great value. Now what shall I do with this last trinket, I wonder?" + +"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 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?" + +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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN THE TWILIGHT + + +"How strange it seems without the boys!" said Jean. + +"And Uncle John!" said Margaret. + +"And Hugh!" said Peggy. "I wish they hadn't gone." + +"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." + +"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 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." + +"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." + +"Keats!" said Grace, briefly. + +"Yes, I know that; it was from 'La Belle 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." + +Grace hesitated, and murmured something about "a time for everything," +but finally, half-reluctantly, she repeated the stanza: + + "'I met a lady in the meads, + Full beautiful, a fairy's child; + Her hair was long, her foot was light, + And her eyes were wild.'" + +"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!" + +"Michael is always stupid!" said Jean. + +"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, 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: + + "'The ass upon the pivot of his skull + Turned round a long left ear!' + +There is no other quotation in the English language that would have +fitted the case so perfectly." + +"You and Grace seem to know Hugh about a hundred times as well as Peggy +and I do," said Jean, pouting a little. + +"Because they are clever, my dear, and we are not," said Peggy, +cheerfully. "If you would learn things, Jean, English literature and +all that, you might be able to talk to Hugh. As it is--" + +"Well, I think Phil and Gerald are ever so much more fun, anyhow!" said +Jean, saucily. "Hugh is poky!" + +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." + +"We promise! We promise!" cried all the girls. + +"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." + +"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 tell you about it. +Peggy, just before you came, I was very blue; deeply, darkly, most +unbeautifully blue!" + +"Margaret! you, blue?" + +"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 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?" + +"Yes, Margaret, every word!" + +"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; 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?" + +"Phil would say 'like thirty cents!'" said Jean, who was certainly a +little inclined to be pert. + +"If I hear you say anything of the kind, young one, I'll swat--" + +"Peggy, dearest!" murmured Margaret, softly. + +"I'll speak to you very severely. I am ashamed of you, Kidderminster!" + +"Look here, Peggy, I won't stand that!" said Jean. "You promised me, +when I first came, that you wouldn't call me that." + +"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 +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." + +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?" + +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: + + "BELOVED MARGUERITE:--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, _Margarita mia_; there are + other flowers besides roses, and summer is a + pleasant time. You will have 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 _residencia_, + 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, 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 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. + + "Adios, my Marguerite! + "Ever and ever your devoted + "RITA. + + "You ask of Concepcion. She is married to Diego + Moreno, and, as I hear, is very unhappy. Poor + woman, I compassionate her!" + +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. + +"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 they +wanted you to. It isn't a thing you can describe; it just _is_, and +nobody can help it." + +"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." + +"Grace!" exclaimed Peggy; and then checked herself loyally. "Grace +wasn't always so wise as she is now, young one!" she said, simply. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +[Illustration: "A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE +ROOM."] + +"The moon rises late to-night," said Margaret. "I have no idea what +time it is now. It seems an hour since Grace went." + +"The moon isn't red, anyhow!" said Peggy. "I believe--" + +As she spoke, she rose and went to the window. "Girls!" she cried. +"There is a fire somewhere near. Come and look!" + +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. + +"Oh, what is it? Where can it be?" cried Margaret. + +"Maybe it's only a bonfire!" said Jean. + +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?" + +The door opened, and a tall, slender figure half ran, half tottered +into the room. "Margaret!" cried a wild voice of terror. "Margaret +Montfort, save me!" + +"Good heavens! Mrs. Peyton!" + +"Yes, Emily Peyton. My house is burning. I ran all the way here. I--" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE FIRE + + +The three girls reached the door in the same instant, but Mrs. Peyton +followed, and still held Margaret's arm in a desperate clutch. + +"Don't leave me!" she repeated. "Margaret, don't leave me to die!" + +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." + +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. + +"She said we were to go on," said Jean, "and she would catch us up. +Which way, Margaret? I don't know the way." + +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. + +"It may be wanted," she said. "I remembered where it always hung. Oh, if +the boys were only here!" + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Five minutes more, and, breathless with running, they stood on the lawn +before the burning house. + +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 +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. + +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 small china bowl in both hands, as +if it were a royal treasure. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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 done her best, and had saved the treasure of +her heart. Margaret ran up to her. + +"Antonia, where is Miss Wolfe?" + +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 _jacquettes_, the _satin rose-the_--in vain, all gone, all +devoured! _Mon Dieu_, and madame had not even had them on! But the lace, +Mademoiselle Montfort, the point d'Alencon, the Valenciennes, all, I +have it safe. See, mademoiselle, regard for yourself, _un peu noirci_, a +leetle blackened, _voila tout_! It is without price, the point +d'Alencon, you know, Mademoiselle Marguerite." + +"Antonia, do you hear me? What do I care about the laces? Where is Miss +Wolfe?" + +"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. 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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"_Hold your tongue!_" 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?" + +"No, miss, no; we see her go with Mrs. Peyton, and we never thought but +she was all right." + +"She may not be there after all!" said Peggy. "Her room is on the other +side, isn't it, Margaret? Come on!" + +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. + +"Call, Peggy!" whispered Margaret. "I have no voice." + +Even as she spoke, a window in the second story was thrown up, and there +stood Grace herself, very pale, but quiet as usual. + +"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!" + +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! + +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. + +"Now if I had a ladder!" muttered Peggy. + +"I saw one," cried Margaret; "I am sure I did. Wait!" + +She flew off, and returned followed by a boy with a ladder. It proved +short by several feet. + +"Oh, what shall we do!" cried Margaret. + +"Hold the ladder steady!" said Peggy. "She'll see to that end, and I +can manage this. Hold it!" + +Margaret and the boy grasped the ladder; Peggy ran up it, and stood on +the top rung, holding the lower end of the rope. + +"All ready, Goat!" she called. + +"Ay, ay!" said the quiet voice within. "Coming, Innocent!" + +The women had followed Margaret and Peggy, and now a cry broke from +them. + +"She's got her!" + +"'Tis Jenny! She was in there all the time!" + +"She's dead!" + +"She's not; she's living, I see her move. Oh, Mother of Mercy, they'll +both be killed before their own eyes!" + +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. + +"Now, Peggy!" + +"Now!" + +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. + +Margaret covered her face with her hand and prayed. Peggy, steadying the +rope with one hand, held out the other, and waited. + +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? + +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. + +"Now?" Peggy asked, quietly. + +"Now!" + +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. + +"All right?" she said. + +"All right!" + +"_Ainsi long!_" and as Peggy carefully slowly descended the ladder, +Grace turned and began quickly and steadily to climb the rope again. + +"Grace! Grace!" cried Margaret. "For God's sake, what are you about? +Come down! There is no time to lose; come down!" + +"And behold, all is vanity!" said Grace; and she disappeared inside the +burning house. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +JEWELS: AND AN AWAKENING + + +"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?" + +Margaret looked at him, only half hearing what he said. + +"Yes, I am better; I am very well, thank you. What happened? Did I +faint?" + +"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." + +"Did something hurt me?" asked Margaret, vaguely, still feeling that +she was somebody else making friendly inquiries about herself. + +"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." + +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. + +As she gazed at the blazing ruins, memory came back in a flood. + +"Grace!" she cried, wildly. "Where is Grace?" + +"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 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!" + +"Oh, thank God! thank God! but where is she? where are they all?" + +"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." + +"And--Jean? she was here too; is she all right?" + +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! 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!" + +"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?" + +"I didn't want her," said Gerald, meekly. "You looked so pretty--" + +"Please don't talk nonsense!" + +"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!" + +"What _do_ you mean? Why should you drown yourself?" + +"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 +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." + +"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. + +"T l k's? true lover's knots! none of my business, of course, but the professor +appears to be interested in the fairacrobat--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. + +"Afraid?" said Margaret, innocently. "Afraid of what?" + +"Of bats! When they squeak, I desire to pass away." + +"Mr. Merryweather!" + +"If you call me Mr. Merryweather any more, I _shall_ pass away, without +benefit of buckets. Say Gerald! just try it, and see how pretty it +sounds. Gerald! 'tis a melting mouthful! Sentimental, if you will, but +what then?" + +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." + + * * * * * + +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." + +The ivory figure began to tremble. With shaking hands she tried to put +Margaret away from her; then, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she +clung to her and burst into tears. + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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--" + +"Oh, hush, hush, Mrs. Peyton! You will make yourself ill. You are only +distressing yourself beyond all need. She is safe, I tell you. In a few +moments you will see for yourself--" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Take them away!" she said. "Take them off, Grace! I never want to see +them again. Horrible things, all blood and flame! who knows how many +other lives they have cost? and it is no fault of mine that they have +not cost yours. No fault of mine!" + +This was so true, that neither Grace nor Margaret spoke. Mrs. Peyton +rose, and moved restlessly about the room. + +"Incidentally," she said, "I have got well." + +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. + +"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." + +"I remember!" said Mrs. Peyton, dreamily. "I remember. I did it myself." + +"Did it yourself?" cried Margaret, aghast. Grace was silent. + +"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!" + +"I wouldn't talk about it any more," said Grace, quietly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, Grace--" + +"I think--that the game was worth the candle!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +FOR AULD LANG SYNE + + +"Confess that I have surprised you, John Montfort!" said Mrs. Peyton. + +"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." + +"That is as much as to say, that under other circumstances--never mind! +I am not going to quarrel with you, John." + +"I trust not," said Mr. Montfort, still speaking with grave courtesy. + +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. + +Mrs. Peyton smiled, then frowned; at last she sighed. + +"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." + +"I have never hated you, Emily," said Mr. Montfort, not unkindly. "Our +paths have not crossed--" + +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." + +"And nothing else?" said John Montfort. + +She was silent for a moment. Then, "I never meant to make trouble +between you and Rose!" + +"You never did," said Mr. Montfort, tranquilly. + +"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. 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?" + +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." + +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." + +"Going to Europe, Emily? Are you strong enough?" + +"I am perfectly well!" said Mrs. Peyton, simply. "Doctor Flower has been +telling me 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." + +"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." + +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 myself with these many +years. I want you to sell them for me, and give her the money." + +"Sell your jewels, Emily!" + +"Yes. I never want to see them again." She shuddered slightly, but her +voice was firm and steady. + +"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." + +"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." + +"So much the better for Grace!" + +"There is nothing you would like to keep? None of these diamonds?" + +"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. You'll let her have it, John? I beg you to let me +give it to her!" + +"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." + +"You are going away?" + +"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." + +"And--I may stay here till then, John?" + +"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." + +"Thank you, John! I heard your own voice then, the kindest voice +that--good-by, John Montfort!" + + * * * * * + +"Gone, you say, Margaret? When did she go? I fully expected to see her +again." + +"This afternoon, Uncle John. We could not 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." + +"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?" + +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 saw that was what she wanted. What is it about Grace?" + +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?" + +"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?" + +"Guess how much, little girl!" + +"How can I? Perhaps as much as a thousand dollars? Oh, Uncle John!" + +"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." + +Margaret stood speechless, in utter amazement. 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"My dear fellow," cried Mr. Montfort, changing his tone at once, "you +are not well. How pale you are! or--you have had no bad news, Hugh? +Nobody ill at home, eh? Your father--" + +"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?" + +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. + +"Dear Hugh," she said, affectionately, "I am so sorry! Let me get you +something--one of those tablets that relieved you last time." + +"No, no!" said Hugh. "It is nothing, Margaret, 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." + +"Hugh!" + +"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." + +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 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!" + +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." + +"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." + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN THE GARDEN + + +"But, Grace--" + +"But-ter, Margaret!" + +"My dear, please don't be absurd!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Of her? What difference does it make to her?" + +"All the difference in the world, it may be. What is that noise?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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 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 _really_ to help some one else. When +she gave me prettinesses, it was because it amused her to do it, not +because I needed them, nor because she was thinking specially about me. + +"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." + +"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.'" + +"And then?" + +"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. + +Margaret rose to her feet with a sudden impulse. "Hark!" she said. "Is +that Uncle 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. + +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. + +"Well!" said Grace. "I am sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself. +Is there anything to say?" + +Hugh plucked a box-leaf and scrutinized it carefully. + +"They make these things so even!" he said. + +"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 odd stick, I +suppose, as odd as the one he walked with." + +He stopped, glanced at his stick, with its handle worn smooth as glass; +then he went on. + +"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 knew, and learning more, a thousandfold more, from every +look of her eyes, every tone of her wonderful voice. + +"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--" + +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?" + +It was the merest whisper that replied, "I don't--know--" + +"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 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." + +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." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +UNCLE JOHN'S BIRTHDAY + + +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. + +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. + +"If you please, sir," said Bannan, touching his hat, "would it be +convenient for me to take a horse this evening, sir?" + +Mr. Montfort straightened himself, and looked with friendly interest at +his retainer. + +"A horse, Bannan? Certainly! What horse do you want?" + +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. + +"Going far, Bannan?" + +"N--not so very far, sir. I was wishful to try him with the new cart, if +you had no objections." + +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. + +"Well, Bannan--of course you will be careful. You want to take some +friends out, eh?" + +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 anyways the reverse. But if it's not agreeable to you, sir, +I'll take the old mare and the Concord wagon." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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 +always messes when they try to manage nice things. It's like as if you +started to whip cream with a garding hose." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"And you'll tell nobody about--them--" + +But here Frances raised the mop with such a businesslike air that Bannan +took himself off, grumbling and shaking his head. + +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? + +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 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!" + +"Corking!" said Jean. + +"Jean, I won't have you say that." + +"Well, the Merryweathers say it all the time, Peggy. They never say +anything else, except when Margaret is round; you know they don't." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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 decided that she was to be trusted with a horse. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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. + +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 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 declared 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. + +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 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." + +"Bannan? What has Bannan to do with supper?" + +"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?" + +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 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? + +Jean was the first to look up and see the newcomer. She started +violently. "My goodness!" she cried, "who is that?" The next instant a +cry rang out, as Margaret and Peggy sprang forward, "Rita! Rita!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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 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!" + +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." + +"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." + +"Supper is served, sir," said Elizabeth. + +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. + +[Illustration: "'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT +LIVES UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"] + +"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 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!" + +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!" + +"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." + +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 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. + + +THE END. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +Page 45, "be" changed to "am" (I am to use) + +Page 233, "delared" changed to "declared" (which Mr. Montfort declared) + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fernley House, by Laura E. 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