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- margin-left: 1px } - -table.docinfo { - margin: 3em 4em } - -table.docutils { } - -tr.footnote.footnote td, tr.footnote.footnote th { - padding: 0 0.5em 1.5em; -} - -table.docutils td, table.docutils th, -table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th { - padding: 0 0.5em; - vertical-align: top } - -table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name { - font-weight: bold ; - text-align: left ; - white-space: nowrap ; - padding-left: 0 } - -/* used to remove borders from tables and images */ -.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - border: 0 } - -table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important". - The right padding separates the table cells. */ - padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */ - -h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils, -h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils { - font-size: 100% } - -ul.auto-toc { - list-style-type: none } -</style> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML. -*/ - -/* FONTS */ - -/* em { font-style: normal } -strong { font-weight: normal } */ - -.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } -.gesperrt { letter-spacing: 0.1em } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.align-left { clear: left; - float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>HILDA’S MASCOT</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Hilda’s Mascot" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Roger Frank" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Mary E. Ireland" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1902" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40620" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-08-29" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Hilda’s Mascot A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="Hilda’s Mascot A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="mascot.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-08-30T05:11:46.417479+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40620" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Mary E. Ireland" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-08-29" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="hildas-mascot"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">HILDA’S MASCOT</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">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 <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: Hilda’s Mascot<br /> - A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”<br /> -<br /> -Author: Mary E. Ireland<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: August 29, 2012 [EBook #40620]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>HILDA’S MASCOT</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 82%"> -<img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/cover.jpg" /> -</div> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line x-large">HILDA’S MASCOT</span></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="larger white-space-pre-line">A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”</span></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="smaller white-space-pre-line">BY</span></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="larger white-space-pre-line">Mary E. Ireland</span></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">Halftones by Donald Gardner</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">The Saalfield Publishing Co.<br /> -Chicago AKRON, OHIO New York</p> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<div class="line-block outermost white-space-pre-line"> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">Copyright, 1902</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line"> </div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">BY THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container dedication white-space-pre-line"> -<div class="line-block outermost white-space-pre-line"> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">To</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">Her Dear Young Friend,</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line"> </div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">MARY LOUISE GRAHAM,</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line"> </div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">This story of “Hilda’s Mascot,”</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">companion to “Timothy and His Friends,”</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">is affectionately dedicated by</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line"> </div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">The Author.</div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line"> </div> -<div class="line white-space-pre-line">Washington, D. C.</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="id1"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">Contents</h2> -<div class="container contents"> -<ul class="compact simple toc-list"> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-ithe-ebony-box" id="id2">CHAPTER I—THE EBONY BOX</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-iihildas-aunt-ashley" id="id3">CHAPTER II—HILDA’S AUNT ASHLEY</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-iiimy-ladys-manor-and-its-mystery" id="id4">CHAPTER III—“MY LADY’S MANOR” AND ITS MYSTERY</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-iva-visit-to-friedenheim" id="id5">CHAPTER IV—A VISIT TO FRIEDENHEIM</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-vhildas-new-care-taker" id="id6">CHAPTER V—HILDA’S NEW CARE-TAKER</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-vihilda-a-literal-follower-of-bunyan" id="id7">CHAPTER VI—HILDA A LITERAL FOLLOWER OF BUNYAN</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-viihildas-welcome-to-my-ladys-manor" id="id8">CHAPTER VII—HILDA’S WELCOME TO MY LADY’S MANOR</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-viiiletters-which-bring-a-trial-to-hilda" id="id9">CHAPTER VIII—LETTERS WHICH BRING A TRIAL TO HILDA</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-ixat-the-gypsy-encampment" id="id10">CHAPTER IX—AT THE GYPSY ENCAMPMENT</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xan-offer-of-marriage" id="id11">CHAPTER X—AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xihildas-letters-to-her-old-home" id="id12">CHAPTER XI—HILDA’S LETTERS TO HER OLD HOME</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xiijerusha-flint-and-hilda" id="id13">CHAPTER XII—JERUSHA FLINT AND HILDA</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xiiihilda-by-the-merryman-fireside" id="id14">CHAPTER XIII—HILDA BY THE MERRYMAN FIRESIDE</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xivarchie-finds-a-package" id="id15">CHAPTER XIV—ARCHIE FINDS A PACKAGE</a></p> -</li> -<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#chapter-xvhildas-home" id="id16">CHAPTER XV—HILDA’S HOME</a></p> -</li> -</ul> -</div> -</div> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ithe-ebony-box"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id2">CHAPTER I—THE EBONY BOX</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">One evening many years ago a man, accompanied -by a girl and a boy, was passing slowly -along one of the streets of Baltimore that led to -an orphan asylum.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was above medium height, and although -past thirty, was youthful, almost boyish in appearance, -with his fair complexion, blonde hair and -slight moustache; a handsome man save for the -pallor and attenuation of his clear-cut features -and the look of hopeless grief in his fine eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">His left hand, white and shapely, held that of -the little boy who was chatting merrily, and in -his right was a package—of which, though bulky, -he appeared as oblivious as though his hand were -empty.</p> -<p class="pnext">Beside him walked the girl, whose watchful interest -in the package betokened ownership, though -intrusted for a time to another’s care, but for the -safety of which she was responsible.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had the clear olive complexion, black hair -and the brilliant black eyes of the boy, but unlike -him, was thin and almost as pallid as the man. -But there was no lassitude in her movements; instead -they were full of energy, and her meagre -face, while intelligent and attractive, lacked repose -and the promise of patient endurance of life’s -trials and disappointments.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We never were on this street before,” she commented, -after walking several squares in silence. -“Where are we going; tell me?”</p> -<p class="pnext">There was no response, and she continued, -“Does mamma know that you are taking Horace -and me away from her? Why don’t you talk?”</p> -<p class="pnext">A sigh, almost a groan, escaped the lips of the -man, and he whispered some words which the -children did not understand.</p> -<p class="pnext">An angry flush arose to the girl’s face, and her -eyes sparkled with the tears that filled them.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I won’t go one step further unless you tell me -where we are going,” she said, halting and stamping -her foot impatiently.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man seemed to rouse from his abstraction -with effort, and in a voice scarcely audible to the -eager listener, replied, “We are going where you -will see many children, where you will have -enough to eat, a comfortable bed and good clothes; -you will have a much better home than the one -you are leaving.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I have good clothes now and pretty ones,” -and she looked with an air of satisfaction upon -the package. “Will mamma come?”</p> -<p class="pnext">The man trembled with suppressed emotion, -which was noticed by the boy, who looked up into -his face and waited for the answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Your mother will be given a home where she -will suffer no more sorrow nor distress of body or -mind,” he answered, and again relapsed into silence -until they reached the asylum, were admitted -and stood in the presence of the matron.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Have you brought these children for admission?” -she asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man nodded; he could not summon voice -to speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is your permit?”</p> -<p class="pnext">For answer he turned as quickly as his weakness -would allow, placed the package upon a chair -and left the building.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, this is a strange proceeding, I must say,” -commented the matron, looking from the window -at the retreating figure passing down the walk with -uncertain steps. “Is that man your father?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Something in the tone and manner aroused the -quick temper of the girl and she refused to answer, -and silenced the boy by a look when appeal -was made to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is your name?” continued the matron, -turning again to her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Jerusha Flint.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How old are you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Ten last June.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is the boy your brother?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is his name and age?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Horace Flint, and six years.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is your mother?” was next asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">“At home, sick.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who sent you here?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nobody; we came to have a good home and -plenty to eat. I have pretty clothes in there; I -helped mamma make them,” and she nodded complacently -toward the package on the chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You helped indeed,” smiled the matron, glancing -down at the diminutive creature before her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did help! I can sew!” cried Jerusha, trembling -with anger and weakness; “mamma taught -me, and says I sew well for a child. See, here -is my thimble,” and she took it from her pocket -and placed it upon her thin finger.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, for a child; we do not expect much from -a girl of ten. Let me see your clothes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">This request brought a gratified smile to the -grave lips of the little girl; she untied the package -with deft fingers and took from it a pink cashmere -gown, soft and fine in texture, made in the latest -style and with artistic skill.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who gave you this lovely dress, child?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mamma, I told you. We made it out of one -she wore at boarding-school, and this, and this,” -and she took up one of dark blue cashmere, and -one of crimson, both of the finest grade.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But, child, these beautiful dresses will be of no -use here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They <em class="italics">will</em> be of use,” cried Jerusha excitedly. -“I heard mamma say that if my grandfather -would take me to his home I would wear pretty -clothes like these every day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you are not at your grandfather’s; you are -in an orphan asylum, and must wear that uniform.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is an asylum, and what is a uniform?” -was asked wonderingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come to the school-room and I will show you,” -and leading the way, she opened the door into a -large room where a number of children were -studying their lessons for the next day.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now you see the way the girls dress here, and -you will dress the same if you stay.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I will not dress that way, and I will wear -my pretty dresses or I will not stay.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We will see first whether you can stay,” commented -the matron coldly. “In the meantime you -will remain in this room and listen to the children -during the half hour they study, then you can go -with them to the playground,” and she signalled -to one of the teachers to give the newcomer a -place.</p> -<p class="pnext">That place was beside Diana Strong, an orphan -a few years older than Jerusha, and tall for her -age. She had flaxen hair, pale blue eyes, a -sallow complexion and a long upper lip, which, -however, did not conceal the large front teeth. -But withal, there was an expression in her plain -face of such genuine kindness and sympathy for -everybody and everything that all felt comfortable -in her presence.</p> -<p class="pnext">The matron had in the meantime returned to -the reception-room and conducted Horace to the -boys’ department of the institution where, in a -short time, he was as much at home as if he had -known no other.</p> -<p class="pnext">Investigations made the next day by the managers -gave, after strict research, confirmation that -Jerusha Flint and her brother were really objects -of charity. The mother had died a few days after -the little family of four had taken possession of -a miserable home, the children had been taken -away by someone, and the place was tenantless. -That was all the neighbors knew of the matter, so -nothing was left to do, even if otherwise desired, -but to keep them in the asylum.</p> -<p class="pnext">A few evenings after this conclusion was -reached, the matron, in her quiet, comfortable -room, was about to enjoy her evening meal after -the labors of the day.</p> -<p class="pnext">The children of all ages and sizes were in their -white-robed beds after their simple supper of bread -and milk, and were sleeping perhaps more sweetly -than if in more luxurious homes.</p> -<p class="pnext">A tap upon the door was followed by the entrance -of an old friend, a trained nurse from one -of the city hospitals, who was cordially invited to -break bread with the hostess.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will,” she assented, “but first I must tell you -of this,” and she took from its wrappings an -ebony box of curious workmanship, inlaid with -pearl, beautiful in design and finish.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where did you get it?” asked the matron, taking -it in her hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It was put in my care by a patient at the hospital -who said he had brought a girl here named -Jerusha Flint, and her brother Horace. He asked -me to bring it to you to keep safely and give it to -Jerusha when she is sixteen. He said she had -often been shown by her mother how to open it, -and would remember how it is done; you see it -has no key.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Did he say that he is the father of these children?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No. I have told you all that he said; for he -became delirious, and although he talked to himself -in a low tone or a whisper, there was nothing connected -enough to let us know who he is. All I can -say is that with his blonde hair, deep blue eyes and -tinge of color in his face, now that he has fever, -he is as handsome as a picture.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wonder how long he will remain in the hospital?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Until he is carried out, if I am not greatly mistaken. -He has brain fever, his system is completely -run down and the doctors say that he has suffered -a severe nervous shock. There is no hope whatever -of his recovery.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Has he no friends, I wonder?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No one has called to see him. The doctor found -a letter in his pocket, addressed and sealed, but not -stamped. He asked me to write to the gentleman -whose name and address was upon it, and inform -him that a man who had taken two children named -Flint to an orphan asylum was lying at the hospital -dangerously ill. I did so, enclosing the letter, but -there was no reply to either.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In his delirious talk does he say nothing of his -past life?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, he rambles on about an elopement, and of -disobedience to parents, and of the regret and misery -which was its punishment, and of his bringing -someone to poverty, and of a long, weary walk, and -of a terrible fright, and of a key, which is, I suppose -the one we found in his pocket; but he whispers -most of the time, and we cannot understand -him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The matron unlocked a drawer in her desk, -placed the box within, locked it, and then the two -sat down to the tea, toast and other edibles which -the maid placed upon the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do these Flint children fret much for their parents?” -asked the guest, as she sipped her tea.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The boy is a cheery little soul, and has never -shed a tear; and I do not believe that the girl -grieves for them, although she has long spells of -crying in some corner away from the other children. -Once Diana Strong put her arm around her and -asked why she wept, and received a slap in the face, -and an angry request to attend to her own affairs.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is Diana the girl who is intending to be a -trained nurse?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and if ever one was born to that calling -Diana is that one. She is gentle, patient, quiet, -watchful, can do with little sleep and is never happier -than when in the sick-room of the asylum waiting -upon someone that is ailing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When will she begin her training?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When she is fourteen. As you know, the children -here do nearly all the work of the institution, -and in this way, beside getting a good common -education, they learn housework, cooking and sewing. -If the girls and boys show aptitude for any special -trade or occupation, they can leave the asylum at -the age of fourteen to learn it; the boys returning -here as their home until they are eighteen, and the -girls until they are twenty. That little Jerusha will, -I am sure, wish to learn dressmaking.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is she fond of sewing?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and I never saw a child so adept with the -needle. The sewing teacher says she is a wonder. -She is fond of dress and has several beautiful -gowns which she says were made over for her by -her mother. Why she made three for a growing -girl is more than I can understand; it was a waste -of beautiful material; one at a time would have -been sufficient. They fit her to perfection; but the -clothes of the boy, while beautifully made, are ill-fitting -and of coarse material.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Was Jerusha willing to wear the uniform?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No; she refused to put it on and acted so about -it that she was not allowed to go out with the other -children upon their daily walk. Moreover, some -of the older ones have told her that only poor children -are here and she is ashamed of being with -them, but I earnestly hope she will outgrow the -feeling.”</p> -<p class="pnext">In this she was mistaken. Jerusha did not outgrow -it; instead, the thought grew more intolerable -with every passing year. She shrank from the -sight of visitors, and refused to act as guide through -the great building, a duty which most of the orphans -considered a privilege and pleasure.</p> -<p class="pnext">She formed an attachment for no one under the -roof, and saw Diana Strong depart for three years’ -training in the hospital without one word or sign -of regret—Diana who had always stood her friend, -when through her violent temper and insubordination -she was in difficulty with the matron or her assistants.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha had inherited the haughty, imperious disposition -of her mother, her mother’s father, and her -mother’s grandfather, who, owing to an ebullition -of temper, was forced to flee from his native country -and seek refuge in America.</p> -<p class="pnext">She, like her maternal ancestors, was impetuous -and irritable, resentful and unforgiving; therefore -it was a foregone conclusion that in her journey -through the world she would be held aloof by those -who might have been her friends, and her coldness, -want of affection and above all, her pride, kept her -aloof from those with whom she was compelled to -mingle. “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” was a -creed which she did not assimilate.</p> -<p class="pnext">Horace was as different as if of another race. -He had inherited the easy-going nature of his father, -who had been the petted and only son in a luxurious -home. Therefore the asylum and everything -connected with it was, in his opinion, all that was -required to keep one happy and contented.</p> -<p class="pnext">He considered it so superior to the home they -had left that he wondered at Jerusha’s dissatisfaction, -while she in turn was angry at his want of -pride and ambition. The large playground in fair -weather and the basement playroom when it -stormed were the dearest spots on earth to him. -He had plenty of playfellows, something never before -enjoyed, for his mother refused emphatically -to allow him to play with any children in the poor -neighborhoods where they were compelled to live; -all he knew of them was what he could see from a -window.</p> -<p class="pnext">Years passed, and Jerusha looked forward -with impatience to the time when she could be self-supporting -and thus leave the asylum, and on the -day that she was fourteen she engaged herself as -apprentice to a fashionable modiste.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her employer was more than pleased with her -skill, for even at that early age she could be trusted -to work without oversight, and resented any that -was not strictly necessary.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was glad when Horace was at last old -enough to leave the asylum to learn the trade of -carpenter and locksmith, and they never met during -his apprenticeship that she did not urge him to be -diligent in learning all that was possible that he, -too, might be self-supporting and they could have a -home together.</p> -<p class="pnext">There were two subjects which all who were acquainted -with Jerusha found it wise not to touch -upon if not wishing to have a scathing retort from -her satirical tongue.</p> -<p class="pnext">One of these subjects was her early home and -parentage, and the other the asylum which had -fostered her helpless childhood, the home of which -she grew more and more ashamed as time passed on. -She never spoke of it of her own free will, and -dreaded Saturday evening when she must go there -to remain until Monday morning.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was during one of these visits that her sixteenth -birthday dawned, and the matron gave her -the little ebony work-box.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha received it without betraying the least -surprise and restrained her impatience to open it -until she could be alone, and the matron was never -rewarded for her care of it by being told what it -contained. She did see, however, in the increased -haughtiness and arrogance of Jerusha the influence -exercised by its contents and wondered again and -again what it held, which induced her to keep herself -more than ever aloof from her and from every -inmate of the asylum.</p> -<p class="pnext">To Jerusha’s deep chagrin the ebony box held no -money or valuables as she had hoped and expected -from the moment it was put in her hands. It held -neither more nor less than three letters, one of -them written by Mrs. Flint to her father, and returned -to her enclosed in his reply. The third letter -was addressed to Jerusha, and was written by -Mrs. Flint, telling her “poor, motherless little -daughter, Jerusha,” of her ancestry on both sides -of the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">In this letter Jerusha was instructed to forward -the other two letters to her grandfather at the address -given, providing the time ever came that she -desired to do so.</p> -<p class="pnext">Dating from the perusal of these epistles, Jerusha -refused to remain with the dressmaker, but making -of necessity a home of the asylum, she commenced -business for herself, finding no difficulty in -obtaining patrons, some of them being the best customers -of her former employer.</p> -<p class="pnext">These ladies, appreciating her skill, solicited her -oversight of their toilets, and she went from one -aristocratic home to another, where her word was -law in regard to costumes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Being recommended by these patrons to suburban -friends, she drifted to the village of Dorton, a few -miles out of Baltimore.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus while her city employers were at the seashore -and the mountains, Jerusha was summering -with four families in that picturesque part of Maryland, -plying her art with untiring fidelity.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her favorite place of the four was “My Lady’s -Manor,” the handsome villa of Mrs. Farnsworth, -widow of Joshua Farnsworth. The next best was -“Friedenheim,” the country-seat of the Courtneys; -then in order came “Fair Meadow,” the fine farm of -the Merryman family, and lastly the colonial mansion -of Dr. Lattinger, in the village of Dorton.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha was industrious, capable, prompt and energetic, -but she was lacking in enthusiasm in regard -to her art. Many persons with but half her ability -had become originators of designs for costumes, -and in time owned large establishments which gave -employment to many helpers.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha craved no prominence in that line. It -was only the force of necessity that made her willing -to be self-supporting through the only work -she could do well. She was too impatient and irritable -to teach her craft to others. She could not -direct, nor could she endure to have about her, helpers -for whose mistakes she would be responsible. -She had felt herself alone all her life and expected -to remain so.</p> -<p class="pnext">During these years Diana Strong had finished her -training as a professional nurse and was recommended -by the hospital physicians as one of the -best.</p> -<p class="pnext">More than once she had charge of an invalid in -a wealthy home where Jerusha happened to be employed; -they took their meals at the same table, -but the subject of former acquaintance was a tabooed -theme with Jerusha, and Diana was too amiable -to go counter to her wishes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Every season that Jerusha went to Dorton she -grew more anxious to abide there, and her gaze -rested frequently upon a deserted brown frame -dwelling of four rooms about a mile out of the -village. It had not been tenanted for years, and -was fast going to decay, but Jerusha saw that a few -dollars spent upon it would convert it into a home, -and a home was the greatest longing of her -heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">She mentioned the subject to Horace several -times during his apprenticeship, but he evinced no -enthusiasm upon the subject. He was well satisfied -with Baltimore and his asylum acquaintances there, -and saw no need of change.</p> -<p class="pnext">But, as was the rule where Jerusha was concerned, -she had her way, and after Horace was free -to go and she had secured employment for him -through her patrons at Dorton, they took up their -residence in the little brown house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha had bargained that they should have it -rent free for three years providing they made all -necessary repairs. To this the owner agreed, and -also to allow them for a nominal rent the large plot -of ground back of it for a garden. At all leisure -times the saw and hammer of Horace could be -heard, paint and lime were not spared, and flowers -sprang up at the touch of Jerusha, who at last had -a home of her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">The short distance from it to the railway station, -and the few miles of car ride to the city enabled -them to have employment at both ends of the line, -and if there was ever a moment in Jerusha’s life -when she could consider herself contented, it was -when after each day’s absence she came in sight of -the brown dwelling.</p> -<p class="pnext">Seasons had come and gone, and Jerusha, who -never before had known attachment to person or -place, was one evening sitting with Horace on the -moon-lighted porch, after a busy day in the city. -She was discussing further improvements, the only -subject which was of interest to both, but to which -Horace that evening lent but an absent-minded attention.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Jerusha,” he said, as he arose to retire, “I am to -be married to-morrow to one who was in the orphan -asylum with us. Her name, as you will remember, -is now Jennie Strong, and she is the widow -of Diana Strong’s brother. I shall bring her here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">He closed the door and Jerusha was alone with -her astonishment and her anger.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iihildas-aunt-ashley"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id3">CHAPTER II—HILDA’S AUNT ASHLEY</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Miss Jerusha Flint was not the only one who appreciated -the home of Dr. and Mrs. Lattinger, in -Dorton. Not only the villagers, but people of the -surrounding neighborhood had a warm feeling for -the genial and hospitable residents of the old colonial -mansion, which had been for generations in the -family of Mrs. Lattinger, and where she had lived -all her life. The Lattingers had also frequent visitors -from Baltimore, where the doctor had spent -the early years of his practice, some of them being -former patients who came out for the day for -change of air and scene.</p> -<p class="pnext">One pleasant morning in June, Dr. Lattinger had -the unexpected pleasure of a visit from a former -college chum, a lawyer who had a short time before -bought one of the pretty suburban homes, and, as -was the doctor’s custom, he took him upon his round -among his patients.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, doctor,” commented the visitor, when about -noon they were returning to the village, on the same -drive upon which they had set out, but in an opposite -direction, “you are correct in your opinion -of this region of country; it is prosperous and beautiful. -There are so many picturesque spots. For -instance that cottage nearly covered with ivy, which -we are about to pass, is a picture in itself.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, it is the home of an artist, Norman Ashley, -who, with his wife, came here from Baltimore that -he might have natural scenery for his pictures. -They are handsome young people and live an ideal -life.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That lovely little girl amid the roses on the -lawn is, I suppose, their daughter.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, she is Hilda Brinsfield, the orphan niece of -Mr. Ashley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda Brinsfield!” echoed the gentleman in surprise. -“My wife and I were wondering only yesterday -what became of that sweet child after the death -of her lovely young mother.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then you are acquainted with her parents?” -said Dr. Lattinger with interest.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Only for the little time I have lived in my present -home. Her father, Rev. Freeman Brinsfield, -was pastor of our village church, his first charge. I -heard incidentally that his means had been exhausted -in his college and theological course, and he was -very grateful for the call. My friend also added -that he came of a long line of ministers, one or -more of them being pioneer missionaries. Little -Hilda is a child of prayer and has the promise of -being cared for.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She certainly has a happy home with the Ashleys, -who come as near idolizing her as Christian -people will allow themselves to worship anything -earthly. The three pass most of this beautiful June -weather in the open, Mr. Ashley taking his artist -equipments, Mrs. Ashley a book and a basket of -luncheon, and Hilda her doll and toys, and in the -shady woods or blossoming orchard they encamp.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Truly an ideal life; and now tell me who lives -in that handsome villa just above it, but on the -opposite side of the road?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is the residence of Miss Anna Ashburton, -and is called ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ for as you probably -know, most country homes in ‘Maryland, My -Maryland’ have names, generally pretty well adapted -to their appearance. It was left to her by a -widow—Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth—who died a few -months ago. They were not the least related, but -loved each other as mother and daughter.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Had Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth no relatives to -whom she could leave her property, or who would -contend for it?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, her only near relative—her sister—the widow -of the late Judge Lacy, of Springfield, Ohio, -is wealthy, has no children, and has no need of what -Mrs. Farnsworth gave to her foster daughter.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Miss Anna is elderly, I presume?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, scarcely eighteen, is amiable and attractive, -finely educated, a musician and artist; an orphan -without a relative in the world, so far as is known.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But she does not live alone in that great mansion?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, with the exception of a middle-aged woman—Miss -Jerusha Flint—who lived with her brother, -Horace, and his family in the brown cottage -we passed this morning, about a mile beyond the -other end of the village, and who was more than -gratified when Miss Anna invited her to make her -home at ‘My Lady’s Manor.’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They must live a lonely life there.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Not at all. Miss Anna is much beloved, and -has many visitors, not only from the neighborhood, -but from Baltimore. Moreover, the servants, who -have known and loved her from babyhood, have -their comfortable quarters back of the mansion, and -as Miss Anna’s library and sleeping-room windows -look directly down upon the doors of their cabins, -Lois, Phebe and Judy are at all hours of the day -and night within call.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is not likely that Miss Anna, being young and -attractive, will remain long unmarried.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“If the opinion of the neighborhood be correct, -she will in the near future bestow her hand and -heart upon Mr. Valentine Courtney—the brother-in-law -of our good pastor Rev. Carl Courtney, of -‘Friedenheim,’ the old homestead of the Courtneys. -He is a lawyer, has his office in Baltimore, but -makes his home at ‘Friedenheim.’ He is one of the -most useful and liberal members of his brother-in-law’s -church, and is in every respect an estimable -young man.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You say ‘brother-in-law’—and yet the Rev. Carl -is a Courtney.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, he is a distant relative of his wife, and of -her brother, Valentine, and his home from childhood -has been at ‘Friedenheim,’ which was inherited -by Mrs. Courtney.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That walk upon the roof of Miss Anna’s villa -must give a fine view of the surrounding country.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Fine indeed, and it has a history, and a mystery. -About twenty-five years ago, Mr. Joshua Farnsworth -died there, it is believed, by an unknown -hand.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In what manner?” asked his visitor, full of interest.</p> -<p class="pnext">“As I was informed by my wife and others of -the residents of the neighborhood, Mr. Farnsworth, -who was in his usual excellent health the evening -of his death, had gone to the village postoffice, and -while perusing a letter just received, a hand was -laid upon his shoulder by a stranger, who said in -a low tone, ‘Joshua!’</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mr. Farnsworth turned very pale, the two went -out, and walked to ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ talking earnestly. -Later in the evening they were seen upon -the roof, seated upon the bench that lines the ironwork -balustrade, still engaged in earnest conversation, -and a few hours after, the villagers were -shocked to hear that Mr. Farnsworth was found -there, dead, and the stranger gone, no one knew -when nor where.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But was there no investigation as to the cause -of his death?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and the verdict at the inquest was death -from heart failure; but those who witnessed the -meeting at the postoffice, and the villagers who saw -them on the walk upon the roof believe that the -stranger took his life.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And you say that no one knew how and when -the stranger left the place?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No. Judge and Mrs. Lacy were visiting there -at the time. They and Mrs. Farnsworth had retired, -as had the servants, all the doors and windows -were locked for the night and the shutters closed; -and thus they were found when about midnight -search was made for Mr. Farnsworth. Not a footfall -had been heard, or sound of any kind giving -token of the departure of the stranger. It was, and -has remained a mystery.”</p> -<p class="pnext">An elegant suburban home indeed was “My -Lady’s Manor”—a three-storied granite building, -light gray in color, with sea-green cornice and shutters -and partly screened by maple trees from the -road leading to Dorton.</p> -<p class="pnext">From the walk upon the roof could be had a -charming view of woodlands, meadows, farmhouses, -country-seats, mill properties, the creek that flowed -past them, and villages; among them Dorton, with -its one church spire.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the distance Baltimore’s monuments were -clearly discernible, the harbor with its forest of -masts, the Patapsco flecked with sails, Federal Hill -and Fort McHenry; all uniting in a varied and attractive -landscape.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yes, “My Lady’s Manor” was one of the choice -places of the neighborhood, and Jerusha Flint felt -it a pleasant change to be the respected companion -of its young lady owner, and, having given up her -despised occupation, was blooming into youth and -beauty in the sunlight of a happy home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Among Anna’s many acquaintances there was no -one whose friendship she prized more than that of -Mrs. Ashley. They were congenial in every way, -save that Mrs. Ashley, though but a few months -older, cared but little for society, where she would -have been such an ornament with her fine presence, -deep blue eyes, wealth of auburn hair and a complexion -of matchless fairness. The company of her -husband, Hilda and Anna was all she solicited, and -had but a speaking acquaintance with the people of -Dorton and its neighborhood, making no calls except -to “My Lady’s Manor” and “Friedenheim.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The Civil War was darkening the land, and Norman -Ashley laid aside palette and brush to join in -the struggle between the blue and the gray.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was not willing to leave his wife and Hilda -in the cottage without a caretaker, and as Providence -willed it, Diana Strong was indulging in a -respite from hospital work in the home of Mrs. -Horace Flint and was willing to assume the light -duty of housekeeper at the Ashley cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jerusha Flint was the negotiator in the affair, and -as she generally carried to a successful issue whatever -she undertook, Diana was duly installed and -Mr. Ashley went to join his regiment with the comforting -thought that his little family was in good -hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">This separation was a terrible trial to the young -husband and wife, and Anna Ashburton was Mrs. -Ashley’s faithful friend and comforter. She had -also great affection for Hilda and would have her -for hours at a time at the villa, to the secret displeasure -of Jerusha, who had no love for any child, -much less for one connected in any way with Mrs. -Ashley, looked upon by Miss Flint as proud, cold -and self-sufficient.</p> -<p class="pnext">Moreover, that grim tyrant, jealousy, had taken -possession of Jerusha, assuring her that it was a -blessed relief to the cultivated intellect of Anna -Ashburton to exchange for a time her dull companionship -for that of the cultured and accomplished -Mrs. Ashley.</p> -<p class="pnext">The first time that Anna made an engagement -with Mrs. Ashley to gather wood flowers, she invited -Miss Flint to accompany them, but her courtesy -was rewarded by a haughty refusal and a scornful -flash of the black eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Anna knew that this was not intended for her, -but for the waiting Mrs. Ashley down at the cottage, -who knew nothing of Jerusha’s feeling in -regard to her, nor did Anna think it kindness to -enlighten her.</p> -<p class="pnext">On her part, Jerusha considered that in view of -the information contained in her mother’s letter in -the ebony box, she had a better right to be proud -than had Mrs. Ashley, and therefore would not -take a step out of her way to be in her company.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where did you first meet Mr. Ashley?” Anna -asked one summer afternoon while they were arranging -flowers under the shade of an oak tree, -while Hilda, who always accompanied them, was -busy gathering more.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In a hail-storm in Ohio. Shall I tell you of it?” -she asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes,” replied Anna gleefully, “the beginning being -so romantic, it cannot fail in interest.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, a little romance and a great trial; for it -has partly estranged me from my sister and her -husband—Dr. Cyril Warfield—with whom I made -my home after the death of our parents.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The estrangement is more my fault than theirs. -I should not have treated them with coldness and -reserve in return for their lightly expressed opposition -to my marriage,” and her beautiful eyes filled -with tears.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I should not have mentioned the subject; please -do not continue it if it distresses you,” pleaded -Anna, her eyes filling in sympathy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am glad you mentioned it. I have wished to -tell you of myself, but never felt sufficiently acquainted -until this summer, and you cannot realize -what your companionship has been to me since my -husband left for the battlefield.</p> -<p class="pnext">“While our parents lived, they, with their three -children—Sarah, Herbert and I—resided in our old -homestead in Ohio, near the village of Woodmont, -a few miles from Springfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Papa had intrusted the property for his children -to the hands of friends in whom he had confidence; -but through their failure we lost heavily, and when -the estate was closed there was but a remnant left -of what he intended for us.</p> -<p class="pnext">“When Sarah, who is ten years older than I, -married Cyril, she went with him to the Warfield -homestead which adjoined our place, and there they -have lived happily. But Cyril is in feeble health and -Sarah is very anxious, fearing he will never be better.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Herbert, with his share, bought the store of a -merchant in Woodmont and Sarah and Cyril took -me to their home where I was treated as tenderly -as are their two boys, Paul and Fred.</p> -<p class="pnext">“One afternoon in June I had driven to the village -postoffice and was returning as quickly as possible, -for the appearance of the clouds betokened a -storm. I had passed a turn in the road when rain -came down in torrents, then hail fell fast, the wind -blowing it in my face, stunning and nearly blinding -me.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The terrified pony ran. Then as the hail storm -increased in violence, she crouched down and I was -about to spring from the carriage when a hand restrained me.</p> -<p class="pnext">“‘You are safer there,’ said Mr. Ashley, for it was -he who spread the carriage robe over the pony and -encouraged her to rise; then he stepped into the carriage, -took the lines from my trembling hands, and, -turning about, drove to the shelter of a large tree. -It was all the work of a moment, and he had scarcely -glanced at me until I spoke, thanking him for his -assistance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“‘The storm will soon be over,’ he remarked in -response. ‘Will you allow me to see you safely -home? My name is Norman Ashley and my home -is in a village near Baltimore with my widowed sister, -Mrs. Brinsfield. I am an artist and, with several -of my fellow-artists, am traveling upon a -sketching tour. They have gone further west, I remaining -in Woodmont, having found some picturesque -views for sketching and putting later upon -canvas.’</p> -<p class="pnext">“‘I do not wish to keep you so long in damp -clothing,’ I said.</p> -<p class="pnext">“‘Oh, we tramps do not mind such trifles,’ he -replied lightly, and as soon as the hail ceased falling -we sped home.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My sister and brother-in-law had been terribly -anxious and were rejoiced to see me unhurt. They -welcomed Mr. Ashley cordially, invited him to dine -with us the following day, and then Cyril’s farmer, -Ben Duvall, took him in the phaeton to Woodmont.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He came next day, I am sure,” smiled Anna.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and the next and the next; and Dr. Warfield -and every member of the family enjoyed his -genial society. He brought his sketch book, and -every day that Cyril had leisure he took him to the -prettiest spots in the neighborhood, and at other -times Paul, Fred and I accompanied him in woodland -rambles and watched in surprise the quickness -and accuracy with which the scenes were sketched.</p> -<p class="pnext">“His companions returned from their tour and -his stay in Woodmont was ended; and the morning -he called to say good-bye he presented sister -Sarah with a fine oil painting from one of the -sketches she had admired.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He asked to correspond with me and letters -passed between us for more than a year. Through -the meeting in Springfield of a former classmate, a -resident of Baltimore, Cyril learned that Mr. Ashley -was a consistent church member, a Sabbath -school teacher and in every way an estimable young -man. Therefore the only objection that he and -sister Sarah made to our marriage lay in what Mr. -Ashley had considered it his duty to tell them, and -me, that his only means of maintenance was in the -sale of his paintings, and they feared that it was -an uncertain dependence.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The following autumn we were married and he -brought me to his sister’s home near Baltimore. -She was the widow of a young minister and the -mother of our loved Hilda. She was in frail health, -but lingered until spring, and oh, Anna, during that -winter I learned how a Christian can meet death. -She had not reached her twenty-fifth year and her -callers from the city were principally her former -classmates, her church, Sabbath school, music and -art associates, and not one, I am sure, visited her -without being impressed and benefited by the sweet -serenity of her manner and the almost angelic expression -upon her lovely features. She was an embodiment -of gratitude to God who had answered -her prayers, that her life might be spared until her -brother married, and that his wife would be one -who would be willing to take her only child, her -beloved Hilda, and one to whom she would intrust -her. She blessed me with tears of joy that I proved -to be that one. She gave Hilda to me and I accepted -the charge, promising to do the same by her -that I would were she my own child.</p> -<p class="pnext">“One sweet morning in May she was called to -come up higher, and a week or so later we left the -city and came to the cottage.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you for telling me of yourself and those -near to you,” said Anna. “I feel that you and -Hilda are dearer to me than ever, and I have interest -in your sister, Mrs. Warfield, and her family. -Does she resemble you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, the description of one would answer for -both so far as appearance is concerned, but Sarah -is more practical than I; a noble, energetic, useful -woman; one to depend upon in every circumstance -in life and at the same time a loving wife, mother -and sister.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There comes Mr. Merryman’s errand boy, Perry,” -said Anna, as the boy came whistling across -the field on his way to “Fair Meadow” from Dorton. -“He has a letter; perhaps it is for one of us, -as he has come a little out of his way,” and both -arose as he came near.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The postmaster gave me a letter for you, Mrs. -Ashley,” he said. “It has a black border and he -thought it might be one that you should have as -quickly as possible. I called at your house but you -were not in and I left it with Miss Diana Strong. -Was that right?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Perfectly right, Perry, and I thank you for your -kindness,” and the boy passed on with the mail for -the “Fair Meadow” home, whistling and halting -occasionally to pluck a flower.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Anna,” said Mrs. Ashley anxiously, “I am -afraid that letter brings sad news of Dr. Warfield. -Will you stop with me and see?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Willingly; and I sincerely hope that your fears -will not be realized.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The two ladies, followed by Hilda, hurried -through the meadow and up the road to the cottage, -where Anna listened to the reading of the missive -which gave the intelligence that Mrs. Warfield was -a widow and Paul and Fred fatherless.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Ashley’s tears fell fast in sympathy for her -sister’s bereavement, and Anna wept with her and -stayed for a time to give what comfort was in her -power.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will write to Sarah this evening,” said Mrs. -Ashley, when Anna arose to go home; “I wish I -had written oftener and less reservedly while Cyril -lived. He was always kind to me and never knew -how much I appreciated his goodness. Oh, Anna, -will we never learn to be tender and considerate -with our fellow pilgrims? We never appreciate -them as we should until they are gone; or if we do -we never let them know it.”</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iiimy-ladys-manor-and-its-mystery"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id4">CHAPTER III—“MY LADY’S MANOR” AND ITS MYSTERY</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">During that one beautiful summer Anna Ashburton -remained in her childhood’s home and scarcely -a day passed that she and Mrs. Ashley did not -see each other or have an exchange of messages.</p> -<p class="pnext">But one morning a lawyer from Baltimore visited -“My Lady’s Manor” on behalf of a client in California—Mr. -Reginald Farnsworth—who could -prove beyond doubt that he was the legal owner -of the property, being the only son and heir of -Joshua Farnsworth by a former marriage.</p> -<p class="pnext">In vain Anna protested that she had never heard -of a former marriage; in vain the Courtneys, the -Merrymans, the Lattingers and other families who -had known the Farnsworths and whom Anna summoned -to her assistance, affirmed the same. The -lawyer produced a marriage certificate and letters, -which even their unwilling eyes could see were -genuine. The signatures—“Joshua Farnsworth,” -were fac-similes of those in the foster father’s letters -to her foster mother, kept by Anna with reverent care.</p> -<p class="pnext">To add to the proof already given, he brought -with him an old San Francisco newspaper in which -was a notice of the death of the wife of Joshua -Farnsworth, of that city, aged twenty-one years, -leaving an infant son, Reginald.</p> -<p class="pnext">The conference ended for the time by the lawyer -giving Anna a letter from his client in which he explained -his reason for the delay in putting in his -claim for the property. He wrote that he was but -an infant when his father, Joshua Farnsworth, left -San Francisco; and it was not until he was almost -grown to manhood that he became anxious to know -if he was yet among the living. He had made all -inquiry and had advertised, but could gain no information, -and for years had given up the search. But -recently he had obtained the certain information -that his father had been the owner of “My Lady’s -Manor,” and he, Reginald Farnsworth, being the -only child and heir, now claimed it according to -law, his stepmother having only a life estate in it, -not having the right to give it to anyone.</p> -<p class="pnext">He added that his wife had long wished to be -nearer her mother, who resided in Philadelphia. -Now the way was opened, and he requested Miss -Ashburton to vacate the premises as early as convenient.</p> -<p class="pnext">“How did he learn all this?” asked Anna, as she -finished the letter.</p> -<p class="pnext">“From me, and I obtained it incidentally from a -lawyer associate who had never heard me speak of -Mr. Farnsworth, therefore was unaware of my -knowing anyone of that name. He had visited a -physician of your village and was told the incidents -connected with this place. I wrote immediately to -Mr. Reginald Farnsworth and he in turn put the -case in my hands. I searched the land records of -Maryland and found that Joshua Farnsworth, of -San Francisco, had purchased a tract known as ‘My -Lady’s Manor,’ the date corresponding exactly with -the year of his leaving California.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Anna Ashburton possessed a sense of honor above -wishing to retain what belonged to another, and -with bitter tears left “My Lady’s Manor” to go to -Mrs. Lacy in Springfield, and Jerusha returned to -the brown cottage and her occupation, and if she -grieved over the change her proud nature gave no -sign.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Reginald Farnsworth, apparently unconcerned -as to Anna’s future, took possession of “My -Lady’s Manor” with its spacious grounds, woodland, -meadows and orchards, having three experienced -men to cultivate it and three as efficient house -servants as could have been found in Maryland.</p> -<p class="pnext">But his conscience troubled him. He had allowed -greed to influence him in depriving the defenceless -girl of the home which had been given her in the -belief that there was no other heir, and he had not -the excuse of straitened circumstances to warrant -the action.</p> -<p class="pnext">One evening he had been directing the cutting -down of several fine maples which obstructed a -favorite view. They had been planted by his father -to shade a spring of clear, cool water, and, being -prized by her foster mother, were dear to Anna.</p> -<p class="pnext">Feeling very weary after his walk, he went to -the library, and throwing himself upon a lounge, -fell asleep. When he awoke the moon was shining -brightly through the large windows, making every -object visible.</p> -<p class="pnext">The voices of his wife and Mrs. Lattinger were -heard from the parlor, and had almost lulled him -again to slumber when he was conscious of a presence -in the room. Without stirring, he opened his -eyes, and passing him almost within touch was an -apparently old lady, a stranger to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was short in stature and slender, her pale -face shaded by gray curls, and upon her bowed head -was a lace cap with long tabs of the same costly -material. Her dress was of soft black silken goods, -and a white kerchief, overlaid by one of black, was -crossed upon her breast.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Farnsworth’s first thought was that a caller -had come to the library for a book, but seeing him -sleeping was returning quietly without it. He was -therefore more than surprised to see her, after gliding -through the door, ascend swiftly the steps leading -to the attic.</p> -<p class="pnext">He arose and followed, keeping her in view until -she reached a distant corner of the unfurnished back -room at the end of the dwelling, when, like a -shadow-picture, she disappeared.</p> -<p class="pnext">Feeling bewildered, Mr. Farnsworth descended -to his bed-room adjoining the library, bathed face -and hands in cold water, arranged his attire, and -then sat down to reflect.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was not superstitious, but he feared that his -conscience-stricken feelings had influenced his brain -and he had imagined what was not there to see. -Believing this, he joined the ladies in the parlor.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are not well, Reginald,” said his wife anxiously, -“you are looking very pale; I am afraid the -sun was too hot for you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“My husband has had several cases of prostration -from heat in the last few days,” remarked Mrs. -Lattinger, “and one of the men came near losing his -life from exposure to the sun.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How was he affected?” asked Mr. Farnsworth.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He was at first unconscious, then delirious, imagining -he saw weird, spectral objects, causing him -fright and anxiety.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Farnsworth breathed more freely upon hearing this. -It was not a figment of the brain caused -by an uneasy conscience as he had feared, but he -had suffered a slight sunstroke, and, believing this, -he became more tranquil.</p> -<p class="pnext">Resolving not to expose himself to the heat of -the sun more than necessary, he decided not to mention -what he had seen to his wife, who was nervous, -nor to the servants, who were superstitious.</p> -<p class="pnext">The figure he had seen corresponded in every detail -with the description of the late Mrs. Farnsworth, -as given that evening to his wife by Mrs. -Lattinger, and as it was the last thing he heard before -dropping asleep it was not surprising that in -his drowsy condition he should imagine he saw her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Lois,” he said one evening, halting at the door -of her cabin, “when is the best time to plant Lima -beans?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When de sign is in de arms, ’kase you wants de -vines to run up de poles and not bunch on de -ground,” she answered promptly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I mean the time in the month, Lois. I have no -belief in signs.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Culled folks is allus mighty keerful about de -signs, and de keerfulest ones has de best gardens.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is the best time for beets and parsnips?” -continued Mr. Farnsworth, who, having always -lived in San Francisco, where he was a banker, had -but little knowledge of horticulture.</p> -<p class="pnext">“When de sign is in de feet, kase you don’t want -’em to spindle up and be all top, but go down in de -ground and grow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Have we cucumber seed, Lois?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Lots of ’em; ol’ misses allus let de fust big uns -ripen for seed. Dey is in de attic, hangin’ on de -rafters in de back room. Does yer want me to -fotch ’em down?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, the ground is not ready. I will go up this -evening and look over all the seeds.”</p> -<p class="pnext">After tea Mr. Farnsworth ascended to the attic -and stood at one of the front windows gazing out -over the beautiful neighborhood, the village of Dorton -and the distant city. He then went into the -back room where the seeds hung, each kind in its -little sack, tied and labeled by a careful hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">The light being insufficient, he took the sacks into -the front room, made his selections and had -turned to put the remaining ones back upon their -hooks when in the door-way through which he must -pass stood the little old lady in the costume in which -he had first seen her. A tremor seized Mr. Farnsworth, -his heart throbbed, and his hands trembled -so much that the sacks dropped to the floor. He -stooped to recover them and when he arose the -figure had disappeared.</p> -<p class="pnext">All was silent, the attic and stair-way could be -surveyed at a glance; there was not a living thing -to be seen.</p> -<p class="pnext">Taking all the seeds with him, he went to the -garden, gave them to the men, and returned to the -parlor where were his wife and two callers, Mrs. -Courtney and Mrs. Merryman, whom he welcomed -and then took a seat upon a sofa in a distant corner -of the spacious parlor.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have been overseeing my gardening,” he remarked -languidly; “I think there is nothing more -interesting.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, for those who understand it,” smiled Mrs. -Courtney. “Brother Valentine oversees our garden -and I know but little about the work of cultivating -the different vegetables. I never tried planting anything -except turnip seeds, and that was not a success. -The rule given me by a facetious friend was -to start out with half the quantity I considered -sufficient, to fall down and spill half, then sow half -of what remained; but with all these precautions -the turnips were so crowded that they were not -much larger than walnuts and it did not occur to me -to weed some of them out and give the others a -chance.”</p> -<p class="pnext">This incident recalled others to the ladies and -Mr. Farnsworth was silent, pondering over the -event of his day.</p> -<p class="pnext">The summer passed and one evening in early -autumn Mrs. Farnsworth accompanied Mr. and -Mrs. Merryman to a concert in the city. It being an -hour’s drive, they were not expected back until near -midnight, and after reading until weary, Mr. Farnsworth -turned the lamp flame low and lay down upon -the lounge in the library.</p> -<p class="pnext">The house was still and he slept, but was awakened -by what appeared an ice-cold hand upon his -forehead. Startled, he sprang to his feet. The -little old lady, her hand raised in warning, glided -through the door and up the stair-way.</p> -<p class="pnext">A cold moisture stood upon the forehead of Mr. -Farnsworth. He trembled and grew faint, and it -was with an intense sense of relief that he heard Mr. -Merryman’s carriage stop at the gate.</p> -<p class="pnext">He hurried out to receive his wife and helped her -to alight. The four passed a few minutes in pleasant -conversation; Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth thanked -their neighbors for their courtesy and kindness, then -the Merrymans proceeded on their short way down -the road and up their maple-lined lane to “Fair -Meadow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth went to the parlor -where, in listening to an animated account of the -concert, Mr. Farnsworth’s spirits revived, but his -sleep that night was disturbed and he arose unrefreshed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mrs. Lattinger’s little girls are coming to take -tea this evening,” remarked Mrs. Farnsworth cheerily -at breakfast a few mornings after, “and I gave -them permission to invite any playmates they wish -to accompany them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is all right,” replied her husband languidly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have thought of several ways to entertain -them, among them to dress in my great-grandmother’s -wedding costume.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The children came, the orchard was visited, the -dove-cotes, the fish pond and garden had a share of -their afternoon, then all returned to the parlor and -Mrs. Farnsworth quietly slipped away to the attic.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had taken the ancient attire from the trunk -when she felt a presence near her, and turning, she -saw slowly receding toward the back room a pale -little lady with black gown, white kerchief and -dainty lace cap.</p> -<p class="pnext">Uttering a piercing scream, Mrs. Farnsworth fell -to the floor in a swoon.</p> -<p class="pnext">Children and servants flocked upstairs. One ran -for Mr. Farnsworth who, pale as the unconscious -woman at his feet, raised her in his arms and carried -her down to the library and placed her upon the -lounge.</p> -<p class="pnext">One of the men-servants was sent to Dorton for -Dr. Lattinger, while the frightened Lois, Phebe -and Judy used the simple restoratives at command -to revive her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mrs. Farnsworth has suffered a severe shock -to her nerves,” said the doctor as she showed signs -of consciousness. “Has she been frightened?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think so, but no one saw her when she fainted.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Let all leave the room except the doctor and -yourself, Reginald,” said the lady tremulously. “I -wish to tell you something.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Children and servants were sent below and with -convulsive sobs Mrs. Farnsworth told what she had -seen to the incredulous doctor and the believing -husband.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will not remain here another day,” she continued, -“I would go this very evening if I could! -Do not let us stay in this dreadful house, dear husband; -let us go to my mother in Philadelphia.”</p> -<p class="pnext">To her infinite relief, Mr. Farnsworth did not -chide or attempt to reason her out of her wish. Instead, -he assured her that they would go on the -early train the next morning.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do not leave me, Reginald!” she cried excitedly -as Mr. Farnsworth was about to follow the doctor -from the room. “I cannot stay a moment alone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, dear, I will not go from the door; I am only -waiting for the soothing drops the doctor is preparing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What do you think the vision was, doctor?” he -continued in a low tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Only an optical illusion, caused, perhaps, by -stooping over the trunk. But she must have change; -take her to her mother as you promised.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The next morning husband and wife were on -their way to Philadelphia, taking nothing but a few -household treasures prized by Mrs. Farnsworth, and -“My Lady’s Manor,” handsomely furnished, was -placed for lease or rent in the hands of an agent.</p> -<p class="pnext">His advertisements spoke in glowing terms of -the place, and applications were numerous. The -most eligible of these was accepted and a family -who had never lived in the country took possession, -delighted with “My Lady’s Manor” and everything -connected with it.</p> -<p class="pnext">In two weeks they were back in the city, declaring -they would not take the place as a gift and be -compelled to live there; the little old lady had paid -them two visits and they would not wait for a -third.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My Lady’s Manor” was again upon the market -at reduced rent, and again a Baltimore family became -its occupants, but remained less than a week.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Reginald Farnsworth who, with his wife, -had returned to San Francisco, notified his agent to -make no further effort to rent the dwelling, but to -close it and put the keys in the care of the servants, -who were asked to remain in the quarters.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My Lady’s Manor” had now furnished the -neighborhood with four items of discussion: “What -caused the death of Joshua Farnsworth?” “Who -was the stranger?” “How did he escape from the -roof?” “Why did the spectre represent Mrs. Farnsworth -instead of her husband?”</p> -<p class="pnext">These questions could not be answered, and the -superstitious ones of the community avoided the -place after nightfall and in their vocabulary it was -spoken of as “the haunted house.”</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iva-visit-to-friedenheim"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id5">CHAPTER IV—A VISIT TO FRIEDENHEIM</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Anna Ashburton’s parting with her Dorton -friends, especially Mrs. Ashley, was a trial to her, -but their sympathy cheered and strengthened, and -in comparatively good spirits she set out for Springfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">She felt self-condemned that she had been reluctant -to accept Mrs. Lacy’s offer of a home when she -saw the genuine pleasure with which she was welcomed -by the sister of her foster mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">The young people of Mrs. Lacy’s large circle of -friends rejoiced that an amiable, attractive girl was -added to their list, and the festivities at the Lacy -mansion were a delight to all.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Valentine Courtney, Mrs. Ashley and other -intimate friends wrote to her in response to her letters, -telling of her safe arrival and cordial reception, -and congratulated her heartily upon having -another mother in Mrs. Lacy and pleasant companionship -in the young people of Springfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">They kept her apprised of all the happenings in -Dorton and its neighborhood, told her of the grief -of Lois, Phebe and Judy who could not speak without -tears of the absence of their young mistress, but -of the spectre that had frightened the superstitious -from “My Lady’s Manor” they made no mention.</p> -<p class="pnext">Had the apparition taken any other form than -that of Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth, they might have -mentioned it in a spirit of jesting; as it was, no one -in Dorton would thus wound her.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was aware that Mr. Reginald Farnsworth -had remained but a few months at “My Lady’s -Manor,” but had heard that his wife insisted upon -going to Philadelphia, and from thence to California, -her widowed mother accompanying her.</p> -<p class="pnext">That “My Lady’s Manor” was unoccupied she -attributed to a rich man’s indifference. That the -servants remained in their quarters was no surprise -to her, well knowing that Mr. Farnsworth could -find no better care-takers.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was therefore a great surprise to her when one -day the Baltimore lawyer called to inform her that -Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth asked her as a favor to -them to accept “My Lady’s Manor” as a gift.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was not until she read their letter in which -they besought her pardon for the injustice done her, -that she realized that the dear home of her childhood -was restored to her, and with happy tears she -thanked the one who brought the good news to her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Visits had been frequent between Anna and Mrs. -Warfield during the winter and early spring, Mrs. -Ashley being the tie that bound them in close friendship, -and Anna lost no time in going to the farmhouse -to impart the information that “My Lady’s -Manor” was again in her possession; and before she -left, it was decided that they would go to Dorton -the following week as a surprise to their Maryland -friends.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield was as eager for this visit as was -Anna; for Norman Ashley had fallen in battle, and -she hoped to bring her sister and Hilda Brinsfield -to make their home with her in the farmhouse.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lacy had never admired Anna more than -upon the morning she and Mrs. Warfield set out for -Maryland. The light of happiness beamed in her -brilliant eyes, for she was returning to her childhood’s -home, doubly prized because once lost and -mourned.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Valentine Courtney was on a business trip -to Europe, but she would visit his sister at “Friedenheim,” -see the places where he had been, would -again be with her loved Mrs. Ashley and Hilda, -see again the Lattingers and the Merrymans, sit -again in Dorton church, and walk again on the -banks of the clear flowing stream, the favorite walk -of the villagers.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield had reached the station at Springfield -and was waiting her arrival. Soon the Lacy -carriage drew up to the spot where she stood, the -footman opened the door, and Anna stepped out as -radiant as a May morning.</p> -<p class="pnext">Together they entered the car, the whistle sounded, -they were on their way, and had nearly reached -the next halting place when there was a collision, -then wails of mortal pain and Mrs. Warfield knew -no more.</p> -<p class="pnext">When consciousness returned she found herself -in the waiting-room of the depot, and near her lay -Anna Ashburton, dying, but rational, and dictating -to an attorney her wishes in regard to the disposal -of her property, Mrs. Warfield and others witnessing -her signature to the document written by him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My Lady’s Manor” was bequeathed to her intended -husband, Valentine Courtney, and the will -was given in charge of Mrs. Warfield to deliver to -Mrs. Lacy.</p> -<p class="pnext">A few hours after the bright young life was ended -and Mrs. Warfield accompanied all that remained -of the lovely Anna Ashburton to the sorrow-stricken -home in Springfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Valentine Courtney was on the eve of returning -from London when Mrs. Lacy’s cablegram apprizing -him of the accident reached him and as soon -as he landed in America he went to her home. From -her he learned the details of the calamity; of the -will which had made him owner of “My Lady’s -Manor,” and of the illness of Mrs. Warfield; and -so far as Mrs. Lacy knew, no word of these things -had reached Dorton.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was correct in this; no one there knew of the -intended visit of Anna Ashburton, and it was left to -Mr. Courtney to take the sad news to “Friedenheim.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Only to the Rev. Carl and Mrs. Courtney did he -impart the information that “My Lady’s Manor” -had been restored to Anna Ashburton, and she had -bequeathed it to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">His reticence was not owing to any wish to keep -it a secret, but the subject was painful to him; it -concerned no one but himself, and even in the home -circle was seldom mentioned. Beyond it, no one in -the neighborhood knew that Reginald Farnsworth -was not the owner of the property.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place had lost all interest to Valentine Courtney; -the sight of it brought sad remembrance, and -for that reason he took up his residence in Baltimore, -making occasionally short visits to “Friedenheim.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The first time he came out to remain over night -he brought with him Ralph and James Rivers, the -sons of a deceased college friend for whom he was -guardian.</p> -<p class="pnext">This first visit was one long to be remembered by -the boys, everything was so new to them and enchanting; -their journey on the train and arrival at -Dorton Station, their walk in the glowing sunset -across the flowery meadow to “Friedenheim,” the -warm welcome to that beautiful home, the joyous -greeting of Roy and Cecil, the supper of fried chicken, -oysters, Maryland biscuits and waffles, and after -it, a visit to orchards, woods and brook, accompanied -by Mose, the colored waiter, and by the pet -dogs of Roy and Cecil; then their return to the -piazza, where sat the elders of the family, enjoying -the serene beauty of the evening. All was a delight -to the two city boys who had never had so many -pleasant things crowded into one evening.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were on the piazza but a short time when -Mose, who had left them at the gate to go to his -place in the kitchen, came to the lattice and whispered -to Cecil, who happened to be nearest, “Ax -your mother if you can’t come out in de kitchen. -Aunt Kitty will give us roasted apples and cream, -and pop-corn, and Aunt Chloe will have molasses -candy for us, and bline Israel is comin’ and will -sing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“All right, I know she will let us,” was the response, -and Mose hurried back to give notice, that -preparations for the entertainment of the visitors -might be quickly commenced.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who is Aunt Kitty and Chloe and Israel?” inquired -James.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Kitty is the cook and is Moses’ grandmother. -Chloe was our nurse, but is now helper in everything, -and Israel is an old man who goes from house -to house to saw wood. He lives in the alms-house -in winter and works all summer, and is the tallest -and blackest person I ever saw. He is blind, does -not know darkness from daylight, but sings. You -never heard such a grand voice as Israel has. Mamma -says it is so mournfully sweet that she feels like -weeping when she hears it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who else is out there?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No one but Uncle Andy; he is the oldest person -in the neighborhood. Papa and Uncle Val say that -he was the best servant on the place when able to -work.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What does he do now?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He brings in cobs and shells peas, and other light -work to help Kitty. He loves to count his coins, and -we all give him the new, bright pieces we get. He -sings hymns and nothing pleases him better than to -admire his coins and praise his singing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney gave consent and when the four -boys reached the kitchen there was a general stir -among their dusky entertainers until their guests -had the best places about the great stone-flagged -hearth, and although not more than two hours since -they had finished supper, the impromptu cookery -was relished.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the most comfortable corner of the hearth sat -Uncle Andy, his white wool glistening in the firelight, -and which illumined every corner of the large -kitchen. It was the first hickory wood and cob -fire the boys had ever seen, and they admired it -greatly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We have told Ralph and James how well you -sing, Uncle Andy,” said Roy; “we told them you -are fond of music.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Deed I is, honey; ’deed I is!” confirmed Andy -gleefully, “’kase dar is a promise, honey, dar suttinly -is a promise to dem dat likes music.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Won’t you sing something, Uncle Andy? We -all want to hear you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Suttinly, honey, suttinly!” and leaning his head -upon the back of his high chair he sang a favorite -hymn, adding stanza after stanza of his own improvising, -and keeping time with his foot, Kitty, Chloe -and Mose joining in the chorus. The boys expressed -such genuine pleasure in the concert that -hymn followed hymn, Andy reviving the melodies -of his boyhood for their entertainment.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, honey, yes;” he commented after pausing -for breath, “music an’ love is what heaven is made -of; it wouldn’t be heaven widout music an’ love.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But there are people who don’t like music, Uncle -Andy,” remarked Roy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Den, honey, ol’ Andy wouldn’t gib much for -der chance for heaven, ’deed he wouldn’t, honey. -What’ll dey do because of de music if dey does git -to heaven? Mind I says <em class="italics">if</em>, honey; mind I says <em class="italics">if</em>.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Before the magnitude of this query could be lessened, -a shuffling of feet was heard outside, followed -by a knock upon the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It’s Israel!” ejaculated Mose jubilantly, “Marse -Merryman’s Perry said he had done sawed all their -wood, an’ he was gwine to bring him over here this -evenin’.”</p> -<p class="pnext">He hurried to the door, and reaching out a helping -hand, brought the blind wood-sawer in triumph -to the hearth, followed by Perry, who was expected -by Mrs. Merryman to return home immediately, but -who remained all evening.</p> -<p class="pnext">“These here two boys is our boys, Israel,” said -Mose, as master of ceremonies, “and these two other -boys is visitin’ us from Baltimore; and, boys, this -here man is bline Israel.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dat is jist like you, Mose, ’mindin’ folks ob der -’flictions. What’s de use of sayin’ ’bline Isrel’!” rebuked -Uncle Andy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Israel don’t keer, he says so his own self,” replied -Mose nonchalantly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Of course I does, Brudder Andy,” said Israel, -towering above them and removing his pipe to his -left hand to give his right to the old man.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Don’t let him off so easy, Brudder Isrel,” said -Andy, in high good humor, “or he’ll be sayin’ yer -is deaf an’ dumb.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Words speak louder dan actions, Brudder Andy,” -replied Israel, benignly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Take this chair, Israel,” said Roy, leading him -to one. “We staid here to see you and hear you -talk and sing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mighty kind in you, I’m shore, young marsters.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Pears like ol’ times to see yer, Brudder Isrel,” -said Andy, preparing to fill his pipe. “Kitty done -say dis mornin’, she did, ‘whar’s Uncle Isrel, dat -he ain’t been round dis fall?’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It’s mighty comfotable here, Brudder Andy, -that is a fac’,” asserted Israel as Roy gently relieved -him of his cane and placed it in a corner.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Put some more cobs on the fire, you Mose, and -hand Uncle Isrel a coal to light his pipe; it is done -gone out,” said Chloe, hospitably.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Maybe the young marsters don’t like the smell -of the pipe?” suggested Israel, hesitating between -respect for them and his longing for a smoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, don’t mind us,” said the boys cordially, “we -want you to feel at home.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dey is all well-mannered boys,” remarked Uncle -Andy complacently; “I has done a heap towards -trainin’ our two. I allus says, ‘Boys, let us ol’ culled -folks hab de dirty pipes, ’kase we can’t be spiled; -but don’t yer sile yer nice clean mouves wid no -whiskey nor terbaccy.’ An’ dey has promised; an’ -ol’ Andy kin trust ’em.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Gabe promised too, but he smoked and chawed -all the same,” remarked Chloe as she took her pipe -and tobacco from her pocket.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, dat Gabe is a hippercrite, I allus knowd’d -dat; not like dese yer boys nohow,” replied Andy, -between puffs of his pipe.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I ain’t never gwine to smoke,” interposed Mose, -not willing to be overlooked.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Better wait ’till yer axed,” suggested Kitty.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, how was dey gittin’ along in de porehouse -when yer lef’, Brudder Isrel?” inquired Andy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, fust-rate, what is left of de old stock, but -dar is a heap of changes in the pore-house as well -as in other places, Brudder Andy. Some of the ol’ -residenters have gone to dar long home, and dar -places are done filled. Gabe Websta was one of de -late arrivals.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is dat?” cried Andy in amazement, while -Aunt Kitty and Mose gazed upon him in consternation, -and Chloe removed her pipe to listen. “Yer -suttenly don’t mean our Gabe Websta?” he questioned.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I is sorry to inform you, Brudder Andy, that -Gabe is at this moment in the pore-house; he was -took up as a wagrant early this fall.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“As a wagrant!” echoed Andy, rolling up his -eyes and shaking his frosty head. “Now ain’t it -too bad dat anybody dat had de raisen dat boy had -wid ol’ Marse Courtney, has done gone an’ disgraced -hisself?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You know that he never would work, Uncle -Andy,” remarked Kitty. “Ol’ missus used to say -that it was more bother to make Gabe work than -his work was wuth.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dat boy was born on Christmas day, an’ has -been keepin’ Christmas ebber since,” commented -Andy; “he’d jist like to set by de cob fire all winter, -an’ go ter sleep in de sun all summer, an’ let de -hoein’ take keer of itself. I allus tole him dat his -laziness would done fotch him to jail, but I never -mistrusted dat he would stop at de pore-house on -his way.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dar is wus places than the pore-house, Brudder -Andy,” remarked Israel with dignity.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dat’s so, Brudder Isrel; ’deed dat is jis’ so! I -is makin’ no deflections on de pore-house, but on -dat misable Gabe Websta. De pore-house is fur -’flicted pussons an’ dem dat is too ol’ ter work, not -for sich as Gabe.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Gabe says he is not able to work; he done says -he has the rheumatiz,” supplemented Israel.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He allus had som’thin’ or ’nother all his days, -’cept on Sattuday afternoons an’ Sundays, an’ ’lection -days an’ Christmas week; at dem times Gabe -was allus in a good state ob health.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Maybe he has the rheumatiz for certain to pay -him up for play in’ ’possum so many times,” suggested -Chloe.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Maybe Chloe is right, Uncle Andy,” interposed -Roy. “Let Israel, when he goes back, ask the overseer -to get a doctor to investigate.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“If Gabe wants to stay in de pore-house dar had -better be no ’westigations,” said Uncle Andy with -energy. “He’ll get turned out fo’ shore; he can’t -fool dem doctahs like he fooled ol’ missus.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Gabe has had spells of rheumatiz afore, has he, -Brudder Andy?” asked Israel.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, every time dar was a big job ob work on -hand.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Ol’ missus used to send him to hunt eggs,” said -Chloe, “and he’d just lay down on the hay and go -to sleep. He’d go to sleep standin’ up keepin’ the -flies off the table, that Gabe would.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nobody could do nothin’ wid dat boy noways,” -said Uncle Andy, reflectively; “he’ll hab to wait till -all de folks dat know him is gone dead afore he -plays dat game ob de rheumatiz an’ de pore-house. -Jis’ now he’s like de folks dat wear eye-glasses to -pop on an’ off as suits de ’casion; when he done gits -de rheumatiz right, he’ll be like de people dat wears -specs; dat means business.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Uncle Andy, won’t you sing, and let the others -join in the chorus?” asked Cecil. “It will be splendid -now that Israel is here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“To be shore we will sing, honey! What will you -hab?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Before Cecil could make choice Uncle Andy -broke into that melody so dear to his race—“Roll, -Jordan, Roll,” and Israel’s deep, pathetic voice -thrilled the hearts of the city boys as no other had -done; no noted concert singer had tones so full and -grand as issued from his powerful chest without -effort or thought that he was making an impression -upon his listeners.</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is one thing that Gabe could do,” remarked -Kitty, when the last notes died away in -perfect accord, “he could sing like a seraphim; that -‘Roll, Jordan, Roll’ was his favorite.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dat is so; dat is jis’ so!” agreed Uncle Andy, -whose feelings were softened by the melody, “and -I’ll tell yer what was passin’ in my mind while we -was singin’. I is gwine to write a letter to Gabe dis -yer berry night. Roy, honey, bring de pen; Kitty, -clar dat table; I’s gwine ter write dis yer hour an’ -tell Gabe Websta ter gib up de rheumatiz an’ go -ter work.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Uncle Andy, Gabe won’t be in a hurry to -get that letter; wait till mornin’,” said Kitty.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, now is de ’cepted time, Kitty. If de doctahs -git to ’westigatin’ it’ll knock Gabe higher ’n a kite; -he’ll git well ob dat rheumatiz, an’ be popped out ’n -dat pore-house whar my letter will nebber jine him. -No, sah! Dat letter has done got ter be writ dis yer -ebenin’.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“To-morrow would be airly enough,” said Kitty, -preparing to arrange the table for the writing materials.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You is allus puttin’ off, Kitty. Dat is de way -ol’ Satan gits de souls ob sinners; dey help him dar -ownselves by puttin’ off. Git de writin’ utenshils, -Roy, honey.”</p> -<p class="pnext">While Roy was gone, Andy had the table rolled -to his chair and was ruminating over the prospective -contents of the epistle when he returned.</p> -<p class="pnext">“How shall I commence it, Uncle Andy?” Roy -asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dear Gabe,” suggested Chloe.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, I is gwine ter say no sich thing!” said Andy -irately, the softening influence of the music having -lost its effect when he had reflected upon Gabe’s delinquencies. -“He’s not ‘dear Gabe’ ter onybody but -de pore-house and dem dat has him ter keep; mighty -cheap Gabe in my mind.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“‘Respected Gabe,’ or ‘Esteemed Gabe’” suggested -Roy, with waiting pen in hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, he is none ob dat! ‘Lazy Gabe’ is de only -’pendix dat fits him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But it would not look well to commence a letter -that way,” said Roy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, honey, ol’ Andy knows dat. Folks hab to -be ’ceitful in dis yer wicked world. I suppect yer’ll -hab ter say, ‘dear Gabe,’” he agreed regretfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">Roy jotted it down quickly, thinking another discussion -might arise.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It’ll be berry short, honey, jes’ say ‘You Gabe -Websta, come out ’en dat pore-house afore de doctahs -hab a chance to ’westigate, an’ gib yer wuthless -place to some ’flicted creetur dat ain’t playin’ ’possum, -an’ go ter work an’ airn your livin’, an’ may -de Lord hab mercy on yer soul.’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Uncle Andy,” said Roy, when the old man -paused for breath, “that is what a judge says when -a person is sentenced to the gallows.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dat tex’ ’plies to anybody, honey, ’kase we is all -sinnahs, an’ we’se all got ter die.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Roy proceeded with the epistle, softening it as -much as possible, signed Andy’s name to it, stamped -and addressed it, and Andy gave it to Perry to mail.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thanky, thanky, honey! If Gabe goes ter sleep -ober dat letta I done hope de doctahs will ’westigate -an’ pop him out ’n dat pore-house;” and, serenity -restored, Andy was ready to sing and as soon as -the sweet notes of “I’ve Been Redeemed” died away -Mrs. Courtney rang the bell for prayers. Israel -went to the library with the others and Perry went -home.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Ralph and James went to their room that -night they stood gazing for some time from their -windows upon “My Lady’s Manor,” beautiful under -the light of the full moon. From the servants’ -quarters could be heard the same plaintive airs to -which they had listened that evening, accompanied -by banjo and violin, and they expressed to each -other the wish that they might see the place before -returning to Baltimore.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Uncle Val,” said Cecil the next morning, “may -we go to ‘My Lady’s Manor?’ Ralph and James -would like to see it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">A look of pain crossed Mr. Courtney’s face, but -he gave permission. “I have a message,” he continued, -“and now is perhaps the best time to send -it; while there, please tell the servants of the death -of Miss Anna Ashburton; they loved her and should -no longer be kept in ignorance of it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Breakfast finished, the four boys hurried away, -and as they drew near Mrs. Ashley’s cottage they -saw Hilda Brinsfield standing at the gate with a -white rabbit in her arms.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What a beautiful little girl,” said Ralph in a -low tone; “she is the loveliest creature I ever saw.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is what we all think,” responded Cecil. -“Mother says that with her blue eyes and golden -hair she reminds her of the angels we see in pictures.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The fishpond, the dove-cote and orchard belonging -to “My Lady’s Manor” were visited, then they -halted at the servants’ quarters and obtained the -key, unlocked the front door, passed in and closed -it behind them.</p> -<p class="pnext">With almost awe at the silence, they went -through the dim, richly furnished rooms, then -mounted the stairs to have a view from the roof.</p> -<p class="pnext">So full of interest was the sight of their native -city to Ralph and James that it was near noon when -they descended. Talking gaily, they reached the -attic, and were surprised to see a little old lady in -black slowly receding toward the back room.</p> -<p class="pnext">Roy and Cecil had heard through the colored people -of the apparition which made them afraid to pass -the mansion late at night, but had been trained to -have no belief in the supernatural, so without hesitation -followed.</p> -<p class="pnext">The spectre had glided through the door of the -back attic room, but when they reached it, it was -empty and silent; and perplexed, they descended to -the quarters to give up the key and to deliver the -message in regard to Miss Ashburton.</p> -<p class="pnext">The boys were aware of the servants’ attachment -to their young mistress, but were not expecting the -outburst of grief the disclosure of her death called -forth, as they sobbed and moaned in the abandonment -of woe, genuine and awe-stricken from the -suddenness with which a long cherished hope had -been shattered.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We can’t stay here no more,” cried Lois with -streaming eyes, “we only stayed to keep the place -nice for Miss Anna; she is done gone! She will -never, never come, and we must go.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Perhaps the owner of ‘My Lady’s Manor’ will -like you to stay,” suggested Roy, deeply touched, -as were the other boys.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, we can’t stay; Miss Anna is done gone, -this is no home for us no more! Pore Miss Anna -that was kept out of the home that ol’ missus done -give her! She was so pretty and sweet and kind and -would have been living and well and happy if she -hadn’t been turned out of her home. Pore Miss -Anna!”</p> -<p class="pnext">When the boys returned to “Friedenheim” they -gave a full account of their visit, and after they had -gone to the lawn for a game of ball, their elders sat -in the seclusion of the library and wondered, as they -had always done, over the mystery of the apparition.</p> -<p class="pnext">The servants left the next day for one of the -lower counties of Maryland, and “My Lady’s Manor” -was deserted. Silence reigned in the servants’ -quarters as well as in the spacious rooms of the -mansion; sunlight was shut out and spiders spun -their webs in the door-ways of the cabins, as well -as between the lofty pillars of the piazza.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vhildas-new-care-taker"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id6">CHAPTER V—HILDA’S NEW CARE-TAKER</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Two days after the accident which had caused -Mrs. Warfield to return to her farmhouse with -nerves so disturbed by terror, pain and grief that -she was ill for several weeks, little Hilda Brinsfield -was playing under the shade of an apple tree in the -garden back of the cottage of Mrs. Ashley, it being -one of the ideal days frequently enjoyed even in -early spring.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda,” called a subdued voice from the window, -“come in, dear, and stay by your aunt while I get -supper.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The little girl made no response, but laying her -doll upon the bank beside her, she took up a book -and applied herself diligently to spelling the words -of three letters which described the gay pictures.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda!” And now Diana Strong was sitting -beside her with one of her little hands in hers.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, child,” she said in an endearing tone, “you -will regret it some day that you are not willing to -leave your play to sit a few minutes beside the -sweet lady who loves you so dearly! Come now, -come!”</p> -<p class="pnext">A frown darkened the fair brow of the child, and, -throwing the book upon the ground, her foot came -down upon it with a quick, angry stamp.</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana said no more, but taking her and the doll -in her strong arms carried her to the house in spite -of her struggles for release, and, putting her down -by the door of Mrs. Ashley’s room, gently pushed -her in. Ill as she was, the flashing eyes and flushed -cheeks of the little girl attracted the attention of -Mrs. Ashley, and she sighed deeply.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My darling is angry again,” she said feebly. -“Who will take care of her and teach her self-control?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana made me leave my new book,” replied -Hilda tearfully. “She held me so tight in her arms -that it hurt me, and I could not get loose. Send her -away, Aunt Janette, I don’t like her! Please send -her away!”</p> -<p class="pnext">A look of pain came into the sweet face of Mrs. -Ashley and she clasped her hands as if in supplication.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana is very tired,” she said after a pause. -“She has lost much sleep in the week that I have -been ill.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am tired, too, and want my supper,” responded -Hilda fretfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana will soon have a nice supper for you, and -while she is preparing it you can lie down beside me -and rest.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was willing for this; she pushed a chair -to the bedside, and, still clasping the doll in one arm, -crept in.</p> -<p class="pnext">The setting sun glowed ruddily through the -western window, and the ticking of the clock upon -the mantel, and the purring of the kitten before the -smouldering wood fire upon the hearth were the -only sounds which broke the stillness of the pleasant -room.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Your father named you Hilda for your sweet, -young mother,” said Mrs. Ashley, taking the child’s -hand in hers. “He loved his little daughter so tenderly -that he gave her her mother’s name. She was -lovely in disposition and patient, and I hope my little -Hilda will be like her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where are my father and mother now?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In heaven, my darling, where I hope soon to be -with them and your dear Uncle Ashley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When will I go?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In God’s own good time. Try to live each day -aright, and then you will have a home with them -and never be parted from them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who will stay with me when you go?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“My sister, Sarah Warfield, I hope. I have prayed -for that, and God answers prayer.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why doesn’t she write to you? You said you -wanted a letter.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why not, oh, why not?” echoed Mrs. Ashley. -“I do so long for a word from her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I would rather go to heaven with you and -my father and mother. What is heaven?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is a beautiful home where we will live forever.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And will we never come back?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, we will be so happy we will never wish to -come.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, I want to go now! Take me with you, Aunt -Janette, to see my father and mother and Uncle -Ashley!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Be patient, my love, and you will come. I cannot -talk any more now; I am very weak, but will -speak of it again when rested. I hope you will be -polite and obedient to Diana; she is good and kind. -What would we do without her?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was silent, her thoughts busy with what -she had just heard. Where was heaven? How -could she get there? And what was being patient?</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana had made good speed in preparing the -evening meal, and brought a cup of tea and a slice -of cream toast, daintily served, to the invalid.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Any letter?” inquired Mrs. Ashley, eagerly -scanning the countenance of the nurse as she drew -near.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No,” replied Diana sadly. “Mr. Merryman’s -errand boy, Perry, passed just now on his way from -the postoffice. I ran out and asked him if he had a -letter for you, but there was none. I hoped you -would not ask until you had taken your tea.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Diana, two letters unanswered! Sister -Sarah is surely ill or she would write to me, whether -she had received my letters or not. I know -that she has much on her mind with the care of her -two boys and the farming, and Ohio is some distance -from here, but the reply to even my last letter -has had time to reach me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, there has been time,” agreed Diana sympathizingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She and my brother Herbert were opposed to -my marriage to Mr. Ashley, but they were always -loving and kind. They wrote affectionate letters to -me as soon as they received my letter telling them -that my husband had fallen in battle, and Sarah offered -me a home with her, and said to bring Hilda. -She was glad that I intended adopting her as my -own, and said she would be much company for me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, anyone would think so,” agreed Diana as -she drew a stand to the bedside and arranged the -toast and tea upon it.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do not wish any tea, Diana. I had so hoped -for a letter. Surely Sarah must write and give -me the comfort of knowing that she will take Hilda -when I am gone!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am sure she will; we must give her time,” -answered Diana, soothingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Sarah is always prompt; a noble, active, -Christian woman. There is no one on earth that -I can look to but her, to train Hilda as she should -be trained. Oh, if she would but write and give -me the assurance! but I fear that Mr. Courtney did -not tell her in the letter he wrote for me how ill I -am;” and tears of anxiety and longing filled her -beautiful eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mr. Courtney said he would state the case exactly -as it is, and ministers should do as they promise.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, Diana, so should we all; but you remember -my heart troubled me so little that day that I -fear he was deceived. You said yourself that I was -the picture of health with my bright eyes, the flush -upon my cheeks and lips, and my natural appearance -in every way. Oh, I fear he gave Sarah the -impression that there was no need of haste!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you told him there was; he would be guided -by what you said and not by how you looked.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I believe that Dr. Lattinger is also deceived by -my appearance, but I knew when I took ill that I -would not get well, and if it were not for my anxiety -in regard to Hilda I would be glad to go. Heaven -seems very near to me; I have so many loved ones -there, so few on earth.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I was thinking, ma’am,” remarked Diana, “that -maybe your sister is coming, and that is the reason -she does not write.”</p> -<p class="pnext">A gleam of joy illumined Mrs. Ashley’s face, and -she partly arose and stretched out her arms as if to -welcome her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Diana,” she whispered, sinking back upon -the pillow, “that would be such a happy thing; God -grant that it may be so!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You say that she is prompt in her ways; she -may not have waited to write, knowing that she -could reach here as quickly as could a letter,” she -said comfortingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, Diana,” smiled Mrs. Ashley, “that is the -reason she does not write. She is coming! Dear -heavenly Father,” she continued, putting her small -white hand upon the head of Hilda, “grant my -heartfelt petition that this loved child be a consistent -Christian, and may her home and that of Sarah -Warfield be one and the same.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Cheered by this hope and trust, Mrs. Ashley partook -of the toast and tea with relish, and laid her -head again upon the pillow with the smiling, happy -expression of one who had never known pain or -trial, causing Diana to again wonder that the week’s -illness had made no change in her beauty.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I feel so much better, Diana,” she said cheerfully. -“Do you and Hilda go and take your tea -together; do not mind leaving me alone. I have -pleasant thoughts to keep me company. I shall see -my sister—Sarah—Warfield—in the—morning.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The kitchen where the supper was prepared -looked very bright and cheery to the little girl and -the light tea biscuits, sweet butter and honey were -delicious to her taste. She enjoyed the meal, then -fell asleep in the chair where Diana let her remain -until all was put in order for the night, then prepared -her for rest and laid her beside Mrs. Ashley, -who appeared to be in a sweet sleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her own cot was in an opposite corner of the -room, and after fastening the outer door she lighted -the night lamp, shading it from the sick bed, then, as -was her custom, lay down without removing her -clothing that she might be ready at any minute to -wait upon the invalid.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had, she thought, scarcely slept, when she -was waked by a rap upon the outer door of the -kitchen, and arose quickly that Mrs. Ashley might -not be disturbed by a second knock.</p> -<p class="pnext">What was her astonishment on opening the door -to see the eastern horizon tinged with a ruddy glow, -betokening sunrise!</p> -<p class="pnext">“How is Mrs. Ashley this morning?” asked Dr. -Lattinger as he stepped over the sill.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She must have slept all night; I did not hear -her speak or stir,” replied Diana in bewilderment.</p> -<p class="pnext">The doctor made no remark, but passed quickly -through to the other room, followed by Diana bearing -the lighted lamp.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She has been dead several hours,” he said, taking -the lifeless hand in his.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, doctor, do not think I neglected her!” exclaimed -Diana, with blanched face and trembling -with grief and excitement. “She was so much better -last evening and ate a slice of toast and drank a -cup of tea. Oh, how I wish now I had not lain -down!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You were worn out with watching and should -not have been left alone,” said Dr. Lattinger kindly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Any of the neighbors would have come had I -asked it. I did not have an idea that anyone was -needed.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Who would you like to have with you? I will -call any place you specify. In the meantime it -would be better to remove the little girl to the cot, -that she may not know when first waking that her -aunt is gone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will, doctor; and if you are going out upon -your rounds please call at ‘Friedenheim’ and ask -Mrs. Courtney to come. Mrs. Ashley admired her, -and said she reminded her of her sister, Mrs. Warfield.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am on my way home and have just passed -‘Friedenheim;’ but it will be no trouble to drive -back and tell Mrs. Courtney, and I hope she can -come.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Dr. Lattinger left and Diana removed Hilda to -the cot, then sat by the bedside of Mrs. Ashley and -wept without restraint.</p> -<p class="pnext">It took but a few minutes for the doctor to reach -the lane gate that led to the main entrance of -“Friedenheim.”</p> -<p class="pnext">His ring of the door bell was answered by Mose, -who informed him that Mrs. Courtney was suffering -with sick headache and was unable to go.</p> -<p class="pnext">Disappointed, Dr. Lattinger turned away and in -a few minutes reached home, where he sat down -to breakfast, weary and listless, having been all -night beside a sick bed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana Strong needs someone to assist her this -morning,” he said, when a good cup of coffee had -refreshed him. “Mrs. Ashley died during the night -and Diana is there alone. I called at ‘Friedenheim’ -to ask Mrs. Courtney to go, but she is in bed with -one of her attacks of sick headache, and it is impossible -for her to give aid.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Of course, Diana feels the responsibility,” rejoined -Mrs. Lattinger. “Mrs. Ashley had no relatives -and her reserved disposition prevented her -making acquaintances. ‘My Lady’s Manor’ was the -only place she visited, and after Anna Ashburton -left it she had not one whom she could call a -friend. I wonder why Diana selected Mrs. Courtney?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She said that Mrs. Ashley admired her greatly, -and said she reminded her of her sister, Mrs. Warfield.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I doubt, however, if Mrs. Courtney could have -done what will be required. A burial robe will have -to be made unless Diana sends to Baltimore for -one.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think she is at a loss to know what to do. Perhaps -you can go down and advise her. She is depending -upon me to send someone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I cannot possibly go from home to-day, for I -have invited Mrs. Merryman and Mrs. Watkins to -luncheon, and Jerusha Flint is coming this morning -to cut and fit a dress for me, and if I disappoint her -she would take pleasure in refusing to come another -day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“If she can make burial dresses perhaps she would -go and help Diana.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No one could be of more help than Jerusha in -every way, if she will go. And I will be glad to -postpone my work until another day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, see that someone goes,” said the doctor, -as he arose and went to his office, and at that moment -a light, brisk step was heard upon the porch, -followed by a sharp peal of the bell.</p> -<p class="pnext">“There she is now,” thought Mrs. Lattinger, as -she arose to admit Jerusha. “I will tell her before -she lays aside her bonnet.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The moment the door opened Jerusha, erect, neat, -and with perfectly fitting walking dress, stepped -in, her eyes like black beads and her cheeks flushed -from her mile walk in the clear morning air.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is my pay to come from?” she asked -sharply, when Mrs. Lattinger made the situation -known. “There is no charge for making a burial -dress for a neighbor, and I cannot afford to lose my -day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The doctor feels it incumbent to send someone, -having promised Diana. I suppose there is money -in the house; if not, we will see that you are paid -for it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That settles it!” responded Miss Flint, promptly, -and, turning abruptly, she left the house and walked -with her usual dispatch down the road, looking -neither to the right nor to the left until she reached -the cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana was still alone, with the exception of Hilda, -who was taking her breakfast, and her face clouded -at sight of Miss Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Mrs. Courtney is sick and could not come,” explained -Jerusha, reading Diana’s face like an open -book, “and Mrs. Lattinger took it upon herself to -ask me to come, so I am that accommodating individual -known as ‘Jack-in-a-Pinch’; what’s to be -done now that I am here?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I don’t know; that is why I wished someone to -come.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Has no patient that you have nursed died until -now?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, but there were always plenty of relatives -and friends to make arrangements; my duty was -done and I went home.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, the first thing I will do is to lay aside my -hat and cape, seeing the lady of the house is not -polite enough to ask me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, please excuse me!” said Diana, reddening; -“I really forgot it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No harm done,” said Miss Flint, as she shook -her cape with a vigorous snap, folded it and -placed it on the pillow of the lounge and laid her -hat upon it. “Had she no relatives?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Flint had nodded toward the other room -while smoothing her raven hair with the palms of -her hands until it shone like satin, and Diana had -no difficulty in understanding.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, she has a brother and sister in Ohio. Her -sister, Mrs. Warfield, has been written to twice, but -has not answered either letter. They were opposed -to her marrying Mr. Ashley; she told me so herself, -last evening, poor dear;” and Diana’s eyes filled at -the remembrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No wonder they were opposed,” commented -Miss Flint as she glanced about the neat but simply -furnished room. “If she had possessed the common -sense that a woman of her appearance should have -had, she would have been opposed, too.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It may be that they won’t pay any attention to -her, or it may be that Mrs. Warfield is on her way -here,” resumed Diana. “I do hope she is, for I -want to get away. I feel it such a responsibility.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What is to be done with her?” asked Miss -Flint, nodding toward Hilda. “She will be in our -way.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I might stop the miller’s children on their way -to school and ask them to take Hilda home with -them, or ask one of them to come here for company -for her; their mother will, I am sure, oblige in a -case like this.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Let her go there, for mercy’s sake!” responded -Jerusha sharply. “We will have two to bother with -if one of them comes here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There they come now!” said Diana. “I will -run out and ask them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fortune favored; one of the children was glad to -return home and take Hilda with her, and Miss -Flint was gratified to hear that the miller’s family -would keep her until after the funeral; and the way -was now clear for business.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now if Mrs. Warfield would come, how thankful -I would be!” sighed Diana as she set aside the -remains of the breakfast.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But we cannot wait for that. What is to be -done about a burial dress?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I don’t know,” responded Diana anxiously. “Do -you take the lead and I will help you all I can.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What I want to know is, will it be made here, -or bought ready made in Baltimore?” questioned -Miss Flint sharply.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I really cannot decide. Which do you advise?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That depends upon circumstances. What is -there in the house?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you mean money?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, money or clothes, or material to make a -burial dress of,” snapped Miss Jerusha impatiently.</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is a bureau in her room with her clothing -in two of the drawers; the third one is locked; I -don’t know what is in it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is the key?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In the upper drawer in a little box.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We can soon see; come!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I really cannot; not while she is in there,” said -Diana, shrinkingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why, there is where she will have to be until -taken to the grave; you certainly are not thinking -of having her brought out here?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, no; but it seems so hard to go in and unlock -her bureau when she is unable to prevent us.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We don’t want to be prevented. Somebody -must attend to this; come along and give me the -key.”</p> -<p class="pnext">They went, Diana shading her eyes from the still -form on the bed. The drawer was unlocked and a -white cashmere burial robe was found, covered by -a sheet of white tissue paper.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Just as I expected the moment you told me that -the lower drawer was locked,” remarked Miss -Flint. “She was exactly the woman to prepare for -this in order to be independent of her neighbors. -Well, it saves a day’s work, so I am not the one -to complain.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Sustained by the self-reliance of her companion, -Diana became of “some use,” as Miss Flint expressed -it, and did as directed with many a longing -to be away from it all.</p> -<p class="pnext">The beautiful form of Mrs. Ashley was neatly -arrayed in the robe and Diana waited for further -orders.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Give me a pair of scissors and I will cut off a -lock of her hair; her sister may want it. But stop, -you need not go! I have mine with me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I don’t see how you can bear to cut off her -hair,” said Diana nervously, as the snip, snip of the -scissors fell upon her ear.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is lovely,” commented Miss Flint as she held -up a glossy tress, “and it curls naturally.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, many a rich woman would give half she -possesses for such a splendid head of hair, and could -envy her in many ways. Mrs. Lattinger said she -was a lovely young creature when she came as a -bride to Dorton, and has changed very little since. -Now she looks like one of the beautiful marble -statues in the Peabody Institute, if it were not for -the long, dark lashes resting upon her cheeks.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She was a beauty and no mistake, but as proud -as Lucifer. Pride and poverty killed that woman, -or my name is not Jerusha Flint.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She was always kind and gentle and polite to -me,” responded Diana tearfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Polite, oh certainly! But she made you know -your place, I’ll warrant. I wonder that one as -proud as she was would marry a poor artist. Now -you can fix her hair the way she wore it, and while -you are doing it I will watch at the gate for someone -who can be trusted to send the undertaker.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, please don’t leave me!” exclaimed Diana, -dropping the comb. “Do you stay here and let me -watch at the gate.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, you are the poorest creature I ever did -see. You are not afraid of her, are you?” asked -Jerusha derisively.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, no, but I feel so nervous. If I had kept -awake last night and known if she needed anything -I would not feel so miserable.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Kept awake!” echoed her companion in astonishment. -“I hope you don’t mean to say that you -let her die alone?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She passed away while I was asleep,” said -Diana humbly. “I thought her so much better!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thought her better, and you a trained nurse, -calling yourself a watcher; a professional, if you -please!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You cannot make me feel more self-condemned -than I am,” sighed Diana tearfully, “but I have the -comfort of knowing that if she could speak she -would grant me her forgiveness. She was a saint -on earth if ever there was one.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I fail to see how she could be with all that -pride; she scarcely noticed me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am sure it was not pride. She was very retiring -in disposition, and the neighbors may not have -tried to make her acquaintance.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Because she showed by her manner that she -considered herself above us. No one suited her -highness except Mrs. Farnsworth and Anna and -Mrs. Courtney; and it is plain to be seen that their -elegant homes were the attraction. I wonder that -she was so anxious to be friends with them when -her home was so poor.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But all is comfortable and pretty,” replied Diana -glancing about her, “and she kept it in beautiful -order.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, what she did and what she did not do is -no concern of ours. What we have to do is to bow -these shutters and sit down and wait for someone -to go for the undertaker.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana went outside to watch, and while she was -gone Miss Flint stood in the doorway between the -rooms and took a look over the objects of beauty -and utility contained therein, and over her grim lips -passed a satisfied smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes,” she said to herself, “it is the very plan; -and trust Jerusha Flint to carry out any scheme she -determines upon. Yes, it shall be done!”</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana in the meantime had unhooked the shutters, -bowed them, and returned with the intelligence -that Perry had been sent over by Mrs. Merryman -to offer his services, and had gone to Dorton -to see the undertaker, and, that care removed, they -could think of other things.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What time will you set for the funeral?” asked -Diana.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That will depend upon Mr. Courtney. If he -can preach the sermon to-morrow afternoon that -will be the time to appoint. I will go over to ‘Friedenheim’ -after the undertaker has been here and ask -him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But isn’t that very soon? She died only—”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You were asleep and know nothing about it,” -interrupted Jerusha sarcastically. “What would be -the use of waiting for her sister who has not set a -time for coming? And there is no one in the neighborhood -who cares when she is buried.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Perry had returned and, to the relief of Diana, -could remain as long as wanted, so the moment the -undertaker departed Miss Flint hurried to “Friedenheim,” -saw Rev. Courtney, who made it convenient -to conduct the services the following afternoon, -and thus far the plan was working well.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her next call was upon the owner of the cottage, -who was willing to allow her to live there in Mrs. -Ashley’s place, the rent having been paid by the -year, and she returned in exuberant spirits.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will tell you what I have been doing,” she said, -her black eyes sparkling and her cheeks glowing -with the brisk walk. “There is no one to care for -Hilda, so I will stay here until Mrs. Warfield -comes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, that is so kind of you!” said Diana eagerly. -“I never for a moment thought you would stay. I -thought you had such a good home with my sister-in-law -and your brother.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is where I stop,” replied Miss Flint with -emphasis. “I told Horace the very day he brought -his wife there that his house would be my home -only while I could not have a better one. I have -the chance now to have one more to my liking and -am going to take it. I will stay here until Mrs. -Warfield comes, and then can decide what course to -take.”</p> -<p class="pnext">In her own mind she did not believe that Mrs. -Warfield would ever come, but she kept her opinion -to herself.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda is no relation of Mrs. Warfield’s, I think -you said,” she remarked after a pause.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, she was Mr. Ashley’s niece, not Mrs. Ashley’s; -but Mrs. Warfield will surely take her when -she hears that it was her sister’s last request.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Flint had another plan in her mind but she -said nothing about it to Diana; and that was that -as soon as the funeral was over the next afternoon, -and Diana gone, she would go immediately about -arranging the furniture to suit herself, and then -walk to her brother’s house in the village and make -arrangements with him to have her effects brought -to her new abode.</p> -<p class="pnext">All these plans fell into line at the proper place; -the funeral was over, a long train of neighbors following -the bier to the Dorton churchyard, but -among them not one relative or near friend of the -departed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana remained at the cottage until Miss Flint -returned; then, being as eager to leave as Jerusha -was to have the house to herself, she was not slow -in taking the hint that her company could be dispensed -with, and left for the village.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the kindness of her heart she went out of her -way to call at the miller’s to tell Hilda of the -changes in her home.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I know,” assented the little girl; “she told -me she was going to heaven and will see my father -and mother and Uncle Ashley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are to go back now, Hilda,” said Diana, -her eyes filling with tears. “Miss Flint is so kind -as to take care of you until Mrs. Warfield comes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The miller’s little girl saw her safely to the cottage -gate, and bade her good-bye with a parting -kiss.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What brought you here until I sent for you?” -exclaimed Miss Flint angrily, as Hilda stepped in. -“I am just going out.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana told me to come,” said Hilda, cowering; -“she said you were so kind as to take care of me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Just like the meddlesome wretch! Now I will -have to stay at home or drag you along with me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda began to cry, and Miss Flint could scarcely -restrain herself from laying violent hands upon her, -while every nerve thrilled.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Stop crying instantly, or I will give you something -to cry for!” she said harshly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wish I were in heaven,” sobbed the child.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You cannot wish it any more than I do! You -could well be spared from here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda raised her head and looked with earnest -gaze at Miss Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What are you staring at? Get a book or something -and stare at it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I left my new book under the apple tree; please -open the door for me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Her companion was glad to comply, and Hilda -returned quickly with it, and, sitting in her little -chair, examined it with the look of having regained -a lost friend.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am glad you have a pretty book,” remarked -Miss Flint, calling what she flattered herself was a -pleasant smile to her aid. “I am going out for a -little while and you must not stir from that chair -until I come back;” and hastily donning her wraps -she locked the door, put the key in her pocket and -walked rapidly to Dorton.</p> -<p class="pnext">After arranging for the removal of her possessions, -she called to see Mrs. Lattinger to say that -she would come next morning to fit the dress, and -then set out for the cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">She considered that her absence was short, but -to Hilda it appeared endless. It was growing dark -and she imagined that Miss Flint had left her to -pass the night alone. She was a timid child, and -Miss Flint’s harshness had made her nervous, and -her sobs and cries were pitiful.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had obeyed the mandate to stay in the chair; -and opposite was a lounge with cretonne cover, the -ruffle of which reached the floor. She saw this -ruffle move, and when something peeped out and -quickly withdrew, her terror was beyond control.</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Flint’s anger broke forth when she found -her in this state upon her return.</p> -<p class="pnext">“How dare you act so, you spiteful creature?” -she cried, shaking her violently.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I saw something come from under the lounge,” -gasped the child convulsively.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is a falsehood, a wicked falsehood!” and going -to the lounge she raised the ruffle. “You see -there is nothing under there! You are only acting -this way to keep me from going out again.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did see something!” screamed Hilda, stamping -her foot in her excitement; “they were two -black fingers.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Two black fingers!” echoed Miss Flint, derisively; -“where are they now? They must have been -alive if they moved.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They did move; I saw them come out and go -back!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You little vixen!” cried Jerusha, grasping her; -“if you don’t hush I will—”</p> -<p class="pnext">A voice at the door silenced her and caused Hilda -to cower in her chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I was coming from Dorton,” said Perry, “and -heard somebody crying, so stopped to see what was -up.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I was out for a little while,” said Jerusha, turning -scarlet, “and Hilda got frightened. She thought -she saw two black fingers come from under the -lounge.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When people are scared they see lots of things. -I have, myself. You won’t see them now that Miss -Jerusha is here. Good-night to you both,” and -Perry went on to “Fair Meadow” and they were -again by themselves.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now you see what your wicked story-telling -has done,” exclaimed Miss Flint when Perry was -out of hearing. “You see he did not believe you. -Two black fingers, indeed!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did see them!” screamed Hilda, flushed with -excitement and passion.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now look here,” cried Miss Flint, pale with anger -and her eyes glowing as she grasped the child’s -arm, “if you say that again I will give you such a -whipping as will last you a lifetime. I have a mind -to do it as it is.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda cowered in her chair. She was a match -for her tormentor in spirit but not in strength; she -was vanquished and sat trembling with vague terror.</p> -<p class="pnext">No more words were spoken until supper was -upon the table, then Hilda was bidden to come, or -not, if that suited her better, and she accepted and -took her usual place, though too disturbed to do -justice to the simple but well served meal.</p> -<p class="pnext">As soon as it was finished Miss Flint put the -room in order for the night, while Hilda returned -to her chair and watched her quick, impatient movements.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come, you must go to bed now,” was the command. -“I must sit down to my sewing and want -you out of my way.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Please let the door be open; I am afraid in the -dark,” pleaded the child.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What, of the two black fingers?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda drew back shuddering and tears rushed to -her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come along, I have no time to waste upon you. -Can’t you unhook your dress?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana did it after Aunt Janette got sick. I cannot -reach the hooks.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are old enough to wait upon yourself and -will soon find that I am not a waiting-maid for -you,” and, giving an angry jerk to a refractory -hook, the dress was loosened and other garments -removed, and the little girl crept into the cot, which -Miss Flint designated as her resting place.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Won’t you hear me say my prayers?” she asked -timidly as her care-taker was leaving the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You have great need to say them. I wonder -you are not afraid to go to sleep after telling such -a wicked story,” and, taking the lamp, she went out, -shutting the door after her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Flint sat down to her sewing in the clean -and pleasant room, but she was not happy. She at -last had a home of her own, but considered the incumbrance -that went with it overbalanced the benefit.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had not thought that her patrons would object -to her taking Hilda to their homes in her dressmaking -visits, but realized that she was mistaken, -as she saw with her sister-in-law’s eyes that there -would come rainy days when Hilda could not go; -and if clear the child could not stand the walks she -would be compelled to take if she accompanied Jerusha, -nor could she be left alone in the cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Weary and sad, she leaned back in her chair and -reflected; and her glance happening to rest upon -the curtain of the lounge, she saw it move. Jerusha -was not frightened, although she was wise enough -to know that there could not be an effect without a -cause.</p> -<p class="pnext">The motion was repeated; the head of a mouse -peeped out and was quickly withdrawn, and she -recognized one of the black fingers that had alarmed -Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Enjoy yourself all you can to-night, my lively -friend,” she said to herself. “If a trap can catch -you this will be the last chance you will have to -frighten anybody.”</p> -<p class="pnext">She took care, however, not to enlighten Hilda -as to her discovery and for many days the child -avoided the lounge, fearing the “black fingers.”</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vihilda-a-literal-follower-of-bunyan"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id7">CHAPTER VI—HILDA A LITERAL FOLLOWER OF BUNYAN</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">“Fair Meadow,” the home of the Merryman family -for generations, was a large old-time farmhouse, -built of gray stone, with dormer windows in the -roof, broad window and door sills, and within and -without gave the assurance of genuine home comfort, -peace and good-will.</p> -<p class="pnext">It lay between “My Lady’s Manor” and “Friedenheim,” -within a short distance of each, and save -for a wide lane and a meadow, would have been opposite -the cottage of Jerusha Flint, on the other -side of the road. It was a true Christian home, -and its influence, like that of the Courtneys, was felt -throughout the neighborhood.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Merrymans were generous, genial people, -and entertained city and country friends with cordial -hospitality, but it was seldom that the farmhouse -wore such a festive appearance as upon one -evening the middle of the February following the -summer and autumn that Jerusha Flint held possession -of the cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">The occasion was a reception in honor of a bride -and groom, the bride being Mr. Merryman’s sister, -married at her father’s residence in Baltimore and -returning that evening from a southern tour.</p> -<p class="pnext">Snow had fallen the day before, which necessitated -sending sleighs instead of carriages to Dorton -Station for the bridal party, and Mrs. Merryman, -seeing her husband drive down the lane in the lead -of three other sleighs, realized that time had passed -too rapidly; the guests would soon be there, and she -was not dressed to receive them.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a satisfied glance at the supper table—brilliant -with silver, china and glass—she was hurrying -up the stair-way to her dressing-room when she -heard a feeble knock upon the hall door, and, retracing -her steps, she opened it.</p> -<p class="pnext">A poor wanderer stood with hat in hand waiting -there; the wind was toying with his gray locks, his -thin garments protected him but poorly from the -cold, and through his broken shoes could be seen -his stockingless feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">“They are all busy preparing supper; you need -not wait,” she answered hurriedly in response to his -humble appeal for a cup of hot coffee.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Archie won’t wait,” said the wanderer, -turning meekly away. “Archie is hungry and tired, -and the snow is cold, but Archie won’t wait.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Closing the door quickly, Mrs. Merryman went -to her room, dressed as speedily as possible and -descended in time to receive Mrs. Courtney, who -passed on up to the guest chamber to remove her -wraps and be in readiness to help receive.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Merryman had no anxiety for the successful -serving of the supper, and later the refreshments, -for in addition to her own efficient maid, -Norah, Diana Strong had the management, and -through the kindness of Mrs. Courtney, Kitty was -her helper, while Mose, in white apron and gloves, -was proud to have been loaned to wait upon the -door and afterward the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">Notwithstanding these helps to contentment, Mrs. -Merryman carried a heavy heart under her silken attire. -The words of the half-frozen wanderer kept -up a refrain in her memory: “Archie is hungry and -tired and the snow is cold, but Archie won’t wait.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Oh, to look about her in that comfortable home; -the whole place glowing with light and heat, the -kitchen redolent with roasting poultry; and she had -refused the cup of coffee that might have kept hope -and even life in the stranger!</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do not deserve to have a roof over my head!” -she said to herself as bitter tears welled to her eyes, -but she controlled her feelings, for the halting of -sleighs at the gate gave token that the bridal party -had arrived.</p> -<p class="pnext">Amid the chattering of merry voices her depression -was unnoticed and the guests passed up -to their rooms. Friends invited to meet them were -coming in couples and groups, and she welcomed all -smilingly, but her thoughts were upon the old and -poorly clad man whom she had turned from her -door.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the moment of the arrival of the bridal party, -Hilda Brinsfield, in the cottage of Jerusha Flint, -was kneeling upon a chair by the western window; -not watching with childlike interest the passing -sleighs with their joyous jingling of bells, but with -a look of interest and hope upon her pale face to -which for many a day it had been a stranger.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda,” said Miss Flint, “I am going up to the -village on business, and wish you to be quiet and -patient. I will not be long away.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda made no reply. She was thinking of a -picture she had seen at Dr. Lattinger’s where she -had been the day before with Miss Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">It represented a group of sweet-faced angels, -robed in white, grouped about a harp upon which -one of their number was playing an accompaniment -to their singing.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had asked the nurse where the angels lived, -and was told that their home was in heaven.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is heaven?” she had asked eagerly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you see that sun?” asked the nurse, pointing -to it from the window of the nursery. “That sun is -in heaven.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda had thought of but little else since hearing -this. She had at last located the home where her -parents and her Aunt Ashley awaited her. All that -was required of her was to follow the sun and it -would lead her to them. She had watched all day, -but the sun had kept itself hidden under dim -clouds.</p> -<p class="pnext">About the time that Miss Flint left the cottage it -gleamed forth, and seemed to invite her to follow. -A longing to be with father, mother and Aunt Ashley -in heaven was too great to be resisted; all was -to be gained by following where he led. Without -stopping for wraps, the eager child hurried out. -The sun, low in the west, seemed very near to her, -and she ran to join it on its way. On and on she -ran, the snow not crushing under her rapid tread. -The air chilled her, but keeping the sun as a guide -she pressed on. It sank below the horizon, but -Hilda followed, guided by the ruddy glow which -marked the spot where it descended. It grew dark -and the child became bewildered, retracing her -steps or wandering in a circle. Her limbs ached -with weariness, and she was about to lie down and -rest, when she heard the chatter of happy voices -and the sound of sleigh bells, and, encouraged, she -followed. But the sound ceased, and again she wandered -aimlessly, having nothing to guide her.</p> -<p class="pnext">At length she saw the gleaming of many lights, -and she crept toward them.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is heaven!” she said to herself. “It is not -far away, but I am so cold, so cold!”</p> -<p class="pnext">The lights grew more brilliant, but she could -scarcely move on toward them. Her thoughts grew -confused, strange visions thronged her mind, vivid -colors danced before her eyes, sweet music charmed -her senses. She was growing less weary; a pleasant -warmth comforted her, and her eyelids were heavy -with sleep as she toiled on toward the goal, reached -it, and sank down between an evergreen shrub and -one of the windows of the Merryman farmhouse.</p> -<p class="pnext">Unconscious of the tragedy transpiring without, -the bride, arrayed in a fleecy robe of white, as were -her attendants grouped about the piano, was singing, -when at the window appeared the wanderer -for the second time that evening, bearing in his -arms the unconscious form of the little girl.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is dead,” he murmured in a dazed, helpless -way, as he stepped through the window which Mr. -Merryman opened for him; “she was in the cold -snow!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She may be,” said Dr. Lattinger, coming quickly -toward them. “We must take her to a cool room -and make efforts to restore her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Tear-dimmed eyes gazed upon the pallid face, -loving arms were extended to bear her where Mrs. -Merryman would direct, when Diana Strong, hearing -the subdued exclamations of surprise and pity, -came to the parlor door and glanced in.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is Hilda!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands -and turning pale with emotion. “What could have -driven her out this wintry night?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Although a new anxiety had come to Mrs. Merryman, -she experienced relief in again seeing the -wanderer, and while Dr. and Mrs. Lattinger, Mrs. -Courtney and Diana were doing all in their power -to restore the little girl, she took him to the kitchen -and soothed her tried conscience by seeing that he -was made comfortable with light and warmth and -good food at the table with Perry.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I knows him,” remarked Mose, who with Kitty -was enjoying his supper at a table in another corner -of the kitchen. “I done seen him many a time -on the road.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You knows a heap of people, Mose, that don’t -knows you,” commented his grandmother.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where was the little girl when you found her?” -Mrs. Merryman asked Archie, while Diana was -pouring his coffee.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She was sitting among the bushes by the piazza. -Archie thought she was looking in at the people. -Archie did not know she was dead until he took her -up.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why were you here?” asked Mrs. Merryman -kindly. “I thought you had left.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie was cold and hungry and tired. He went -to the barn to sleep; he had no other place to go. -Archie heard sleigh bells and people coming in with -horses, and was afraid they would drive him away. -Archie walked about to keep warm; he heard singing -and came to look in the window and found the -little girl.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The efforts of Dr. Lattinger were rewarded; after -a time Hilda had recovered sufficiently to be taken -to the nursery where Diana watched beside her until -time to help serve refreshments.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is mamma?” whispered Hilda without -opening her weary eyes. “I heard the sweet music -and saw the beautiful angels, but did not know my -mamma or Aunt Ashley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You will see them after a time,” said Diana -tenderly; “go to sleep now and get rested.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will,” whispered the little girl; “I am tired, so -tired, but I have found heaven.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Tears flowed from Diana’s eyes as she watched -her sleeping, and tender-hearted Norah wept in sympathy.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was so changed; she seemed no longer the -light-hearted, care-free, high-spirited child which -had been loved and cherished by Mrs. Ashley. Sadness -had its place upon the wan face, the pinched -features, in the deep-sunken eyes. Diana almost -censured herself for a share in the cause.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fortunately Diana could remain at the farmhouse -while the bridal company stayed, and her heart was -comforted by knowing that Hilda had found a good -home; for the next morning Mrs. Merryman received -a note from Miss Flint saying that as Hilda -had run away from the cottage, she should not be -received again under that roof.</p> -<p class="pnext">The same afternoon as Perry was returning from -the village with a wagon, Miss Jerusha stopped him -at her gate and helped him place in it three trunks -which had belonged to Mrs. Ashley. They contained -clothing, books and bric-a-brac, Jerusha retaining -the furniture until claimed by Mrs. Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">Cast upon the charity of Mr. and Mrs. Merryman, -Hilda was heartily accepted, and Miss Flint -went from her cottage in the morning and returned -to it in the evening, rejoicing that she was at last -free from the burden that had oppressed her. So -sprightly did she become, in addition to her naturally -independent and arbitrary manner that she gave -no one reason to suspect that her conscience was -troubled by three secrets, one of which in after -years she strove vainly to divulge to Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">The bridal company had been entertained at the -Courtneys, the Lattingers and several other homes, -had seen the places of interest in the neighborhood, -had heard the traditions and chronicles, especially -that of the spectre that haunted “My Lady’s Manor” -and had returned to their homes.</p> -<p class="pnext">One evening Norah was preparing the evening -meal and crooning an Irish melody—to which -Hilda, sitting in Erma’s cradle, was listening attentively—and -had just placed tea biscuits in the oven -when the door opened and Archie came in.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was comfortably clothed in the suit given -him by Mr. Merryman, and without glancing at -Norah or Hilda he went directly to the seat in the -corner of the hearth which he had occupied the -night of the reception.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is Archie!” cried Hilda in delight, “he has -brought me a mocking bird.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Archie is ashamed that he could not bring -one,” said the wanderer sadly. “He has tried and -tried to catch one, but Archie has brought something,” -and untying a plaid handkerchief he gave -her a dead oriole, a bit of moss, several snail and -mussel shells, and other trifles which he had gathered -in the woods and streams perhaps miles away.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and their little -Erma returned from Dorton and with Hilda sat -down to tea in the dining-room, Archie fell asleep -in his chair, but awoke to take supper with Norah -and Perry; then went to the room over the kitchen -which he had previously occupied, and before the -sun rose was away upon his aimless wanderings.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus the years passed, and in the home of the -Merrymans contentment and peace reigned. Hilda -was looked upon as the elder daughter of the house -and was treated as kindly as though indeed their -own. She went daily to the village school and was -beloved by teachers and companions.</p> -<p class="pnext">Although each school day she passed the cottage -twice, and the same on Sabbaths to the village -church, she never had a glimpse of Jerusha Flint, -from which the inference could be rightly drawn -that Jerusha had frequent glimpses of her.</p> -<p class="pnext">One Saturday morning Hilda was helping Mrs. -Merryman arrange the potted plants upon the porch -when Mose, hat in hand, made his appearance with -a note from Mrs. Courtney inviting them to take -tea at “Friedenheim” that evening.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda’s eager glance at Mrs. Merryman, hoping -for acceptance of the invitation, was met by an assenting -smile; a reply was written and Mose hurried -away.</p> -<p class="pnext">When it came time to dress for the visit Norah, -who took great pride in Hilda’s beauty, arranged -her hair in soft, full ringlets and helped her don a -pretty pink gown, Hilda’s favorite, and singularly -becoming.</p> -<p class="pnext">The visit was one of unalloyed pleasure, for during -the afternoon Mr. Valentine Courtney drove -out from the city in a handsome carriage drawn by -a pair of ponies, and finding Hilda and Erma there -took them out for a drive, and after tea he took -them the short walk to “My Lady’s Manor,” too -short to Mr. Courtney, so interested and amused -was he with the conversation of Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">He enjoyed her quaint manner of telling the -events which transpired within the range of her -knowledge, among them the arrival of Norah’s aunt -from Scotland, an event of great interest to Norah, -and through her to Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is now at your Uncle Merryman’s, I suppose?” -remarked Mr. Courtney, with a view to -keeping up his share of the conversation.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, she is in Baltimore, but she wants to come -to Dorton to be near Norah; and Aunt Merryman -will try to get her a place as housekeeper. She is -a very good housekeeper,” concluded Hilda sagely.</p> -<p class="pnext">When they reached “My Lady’s Manor,” Mr. -Courtney unlocked the front door, and they passed -in; and after closing it he led the way through the -wide hall to the rooms on either side, all seeming -to Hilda like the almost forgotten remembrance of -a dream. Then they ascended to the second floor, -then to the third and from thence up the narrow -stair-way to the walk on the roof, where Mr. Courtney -pointed out the prominent places in the city -and noted the changes in Hilda’s expressive countenance, -as in her quaint manner she gave her views -of them.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was growing twilight and so they turned to -descend, Hilda being the first to reach the stair-way.</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is a lady waiting to come up!” she said -in a half whisper, “I think she is very old.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“A lady?” ejaculated Mr. Courtney, in surprise, -and, stepping to the stair-way, he glanced down.</p> -<p class="pnext">The little lady in black, of whom he had so often -heard, stood at the foot, with bowed head and -folded hands, but before Mr. Courtney could address -her, she disappeared.</p> -<p class="pnext">When they descended to the attic, Mr. Courtney, -without commenting upon the subject, glanced into -the rooms, but not a living creature was to be seen, -nor in the rooms below it; the house was silent save -for their footfalls.</p> -<p class="pnext">“This mystery shall be explained, if possible, and -that at the earliest moment,” he said to himself as -he locked the hall door upon their exit, and if Hilda -noticed that he was silent on their walk back to -“Friedenheim” she made no comment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney joined the Rev. Carl, Mrs. Courtney -and Mrs. Merryman upon the piazza, while -Hilda and Erma, attracted by the cheerful appearance -of the kitchen, halted at the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come right in, honey,” cried Uncle Andy, heartily. -“We is mighty glad to see yer; we has no little -chillen no mo’, an’ ’pears like we can nebber git used -ter doin’ widout ’em.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where have they gone?” asked Hilda as, holding -Erma’s hand, she stepped in.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Roy an’ Cecil has done mos’ growed up, an’ de -little gal hab gone to heaven whar ol’ Andy will go -in de heavenly Master’s own good time. Ol’ Andy -will soon go, honey.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda longed to send a message by him to her -father and mother and her Uncle and Aunt Ashley, -but had not courage to go near enough to him to -whisper her request. Her indecision brought the -delicate bloom to her cheek, which always appeared -under any little excitement, and which awakened -anew the admiration of Chloe.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is as pretty as a picture; that is just the -truth,” she remarked to Kitty.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now, Chloe, jes’ yer hab done wid dat,” exclaimed -Andy, turning sharply about. “Ol’ Satan -an’ de lookin’ glass will done tell her dat fas’ enough -widout yore help.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They will tell her the truth, Uncle Andy, you -know that your own self,” replied Chloe nonchalantly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Purty is as purty does, honey; don’t disremember -dat,” advised Andy, turning to Hilda; “don’t -let nobody make you sassy of yer beauty, fer bime-bye, -if de good Lord spares yer dat long, de wrinkles -will done scare de beauty away. Den whar is -yer?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Never scared no beauty away from Mis’ Emma,” -asserted Chloe defiantly. “Wrinkles is coming to -stay, but she is a beauty in spite of them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Kase mistess wan’t sassy ob her beauty, dat’s -what I done jes’ say, Chloe; de strongholt is mine, -not yourn,” and Andy laughed and coughed exultantly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Missus come of a pretty family,” interposed -Kitty. “She couldn’t have been ugly if she had -tried. When she an’ Mars Courtney was bride and -groom, dey was de han’somest couple in de state, -an’ her mother an’ grandmother were beauties in -der day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Kase dey was Christians, an’ had der treasures -laid up in heaven. Yes, Kitty, dey was good to de -pore an’ ’flicted, and too busy helpin’ dem dat could -not help demselves to be sassy about der beauty.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They was too good for dis yer world, dat’s certain,” -responded Kitty.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Deed was dey, an’ nebber done forgit dar manners -to nobody. When I was de coachman, and -used ter bring Selim to de block for young mistus—dat -was dis Misus Courtney’s grandmother—honey,” -he said, turning to Hilda, “an’ she done -come sweepin’ down de piazzy steps, holdin’ de long -train ob her habit ober her arm, an’ her pearl -handled whip in her han’, an’ de long plumes in her -hat bowin’ an’ noddin’, tell yer what, honey, she -suttenly was purtier dan any picture.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“So she was,” echoed Kitty. “I was young then, -but I remember that she looked like Mis’ Emma.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you done forget about the manners, Uncle -Andy,” said Chloe flippantly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes! When I done led Selim to de block -an’ would pat de proud-sperited creetur ’till mistus -mounted into de saddle, an’ took the bridle, an’ was -startin’ away, she allus said, ‘Thanky, Andy!’ She -nebber disremembered dat, nebber.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and Mis’ Emma is just as polite as her -mother and grandmother,” said Kitty, proudly, -“they was born ladies and couldn’t be anything -else.”</p> -<p class="pnext">It came time for Mrs. Merryman to go. Hilda -and Erma were summoned. Mrs. Courtney and -her brother Valentine accompanied them across the -meadow to their home, and their conversation on -the return walk was of “My Lady’s Manor,” now -bathed in the splendor of the moonlight.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viihildas-welcome-to-my-ladys-manor"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id8">CHAPTER VII—HILDA’S WELCOME TO MY LADY’S MANOR</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">A week passed and one evening Mr. Courtney -came out on the train to remain over night at -“Friedenheim,” and with him were Ralph and -James Rivers.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had something in contemplation which he -wished to impart to the Rev. Carl and Mrs. Courtney, -and when supper was finished and they returned -to the library he mentioned what he thought -they might consider a foolish experiment.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Brother Carl and Sister Emma, I am thinking of -housekeeping. What is your opinion of it?” he -asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you mean at ‘My Lady’s Manor’?” asked -Mrs. Courtney. “I think it would be charming thus -having you for a neighbor; it would be next best to -having you at ‘Friedenheim’.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I, too, am pleased,” said Rev. Carl. “Are you -really in earnest?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I would like to at least make the trial, if -I can get a suitable housekeeper.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But the apparition, Val!” reminded Rev. Carl -in a low tone. “Of course we give no credence to -such foolishness, but you may have trouble in getting -a housekeeper.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I would never have taken Anna there until the -mystery was explained, neither would I be willing -to have anyone run the chance of being frightened, -but Ralph and James have a plan in view which I -will not disappoint them by divulging. In the meantime -Hilda mentioned that Mrs. Merryman knows -of a woman who wishes to come to Dorton; did -she happen to mention it to you, Sister Emma?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, she asked me if I knew of anyone who -needs a housekeeper. It is Nora’s aunt who wishes -a place. She is now at a friend’s house in the city.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wish you would see Mrs. Merryman in regard -to it when convenient.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will go or send there to-morrow, and am sure -that Mrs. Merryman will act promptly in regard to -securing her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">About twilight Ralph and James, with traveling -satchels in hand, walked to “My Lady’s Manor” -with the intention of discovering, if possible, what -manner of creature it was that was deceiving so -many people.</p> -<p class="pnext">The satchel of James held a lamp, candles and -matches, and Ralph’s contained a stiff rope with a -noose at one end, with which he purposed capturing -the spectre.</p> -<p class="pnext">They took a survey of the mansion and decided -upon occupying the two bed-rooms overlooking the -quarters.</p> -<p class="pnext">The doors of both rooms opened into the corridor, -and these they decided to lock, that any unquiet -spirit that chose to visit one of the rooms could -have free access only to the other.</p> -<p class="pnext">Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night; -they slept peacefully until the white sails upon the -Patapsco were tinged with rosy hues of the ascending -sun.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before returning to “Friedenheim” they explored -the attic room, which was void of furniture -or articles of any kind, but found no clue to the -mystery, nor hiding place for even a mouse.</p> -<p class="pnext">As the spectre declined to visit them when the -doors leading to the corridor were locked, the next -night they decided to leave the door ajar which led -into it from the bed-room which Mrs. Farnsworth -and Anna had used as a library, and to place a -lighted lamp near the steps leading to the attic -rooms. Ralph, with rope behind him, lay down upon -the lounge in that room and James occupied the -room adjoining.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was too excited to sleep, but Ralph was in -the land of dreams when something like an icy -hand touched his forehead. He sprang up, rope in -hand, and followed the little lady in black who had -glided through the door and ascended several steps -toward the attic room, threw the noose about her -neck and brought her to a halt so suddenly that -she had to cling to the banister to keep from falling. -A piece of marble which had simulated the cold -hand fell to the floor, the lace cap and gray curls -fell back, disclosing a head of glossy black hair, and -the dough mask fell off, showing the humiliated face -of Jerusha Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">The boys stood appalled at the discovery, and -Jerusha shed a torrent of tears, but whether from -shame or grief or anger they had no means of -knowing.</p> -<p class="pnext">She spoke no word, but like a veritable spectre, -glided up the attic stairs and was seen no more. -Only the sound of the shutting of a distant door in -some part of the large building could be faintly -heard, then the boys locked the three doors and -slept in the bed-room until morning.</p> -<p class="pnext">It is doubtful if any news could have given more -genuine astonishment to the home circle at “Friedenheim” -than that of Miss Flint playing the rôle -of a spectre, and the motive that prompted her was -quite as much of a mystery. But before the day -closed the matter was made plain by Miss Jerusha, -who sent a humble message to Mrs. Courtney to -come to see her, as she desired earnestly to converse -with her and was too ill to leave her cottage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney went immediately, and although -Miss Jerusha expected her, she could scarcely raise -her eyes to her neighbor’s face when she stood beside -her, so humiliated was she as she lay pale, yet -feverish, upon the lounge.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I don’t know what you can think of me, Mrs. -Courtney,” she said, as she signified her wish for -her visitor to take the seat beside her, “but I will -tell you the exact truth.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney took the chair in silence and Miss -Flint, after a pause, resumed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Anna Ashburton was my friend, the only person -in her position who treated me as an equal, and -because she had given me her friendship, I told her -what I have told no other, before or since. She -understood me as no other human being could; she -pitied me and loved me; and if I could have remained -with her I would not be the desolate, unhappy, -malicious creature I am. It was a bitter -blow to us when we were cast out of that beautiful -home. We both loved it, and I say in all sincerity -that I grieved more for her sake than for my own. -I had not her gentle spirit, having inherited a proud -and implacable temper, and I vowed in my homeless -condition that so far as lay in my power to prevent -it, Reginald Farnsworth should never find purchaser -or tenant for his ill-gotten property.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But my dear Miss Flint,” said Mrs. Courtney, -“‘My Lady’s Manor’ has not belonged to Mr. Farnsworth -for several years. He gave it back to Anna -Ashburton and she bequeathed it to my brother, -Valentine Courtney.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Bequeathed it to your brother!” echoed Miss -Jerusha slowly, and turning very pale. “She had -it to bequeath, yet never told me of it in any of the -kind, affectionate letters she wrote to me?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She did not become owner of the property until -a short time before her death. She was coming to -see all her Maryland friends and was keeping it as -a surprise.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She left her property to a man who has already -more wealth than he can use, and not one penny to -me whom she promised to give a home if she ever -had one to share with me! God help me! I -thought I had one friend, but there is no such a -thing in the wide world. My life has been a miserable -failure.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You should not censure Anna Ashburton, Miss -Flint. I feel sure it was her intention to keep her -promise to you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">A scornful smile crossed the thin lips of Jerusha, -but she made no response.</p> -<p class="pnext">“And you should not count your life a failure, -there is no one in the neighborhood more useful.”</p> -<p class="pnext">A sniff of derision rewarded this sincere compliment.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Please tell me,” resumed Mrs. Courtney, “how -you could act the part of a spectre and not frighten -the servants away.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nothing could be simpler,” replied Miss Jerusha -wearily. “They were glad of anything that would -dishearten Mr. Farnsworth and cause him to restore -Anna’s property to her. They never saw me, because -nothing would tempt them to enter the main -building except in daytime, and then not alone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You always disappeared in the unfurnished attic -room, yet James and Ralph, who examined it -thoroughly, could find no place of exit.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That was yet simpler when understood. In -that one short, happy summer with Anna I was one -afternoon gathering clusters of grapes from the -arbor which yet shades this end of the house, and -noticed a locked door for which I could see no use. -I spoke of it to Anna and she explained that it led -by flights of narrow steps to a room just their -width, off the back attic, and furnished with rows -of hooks for meat. After the building of a meat -house it was abandoned and almost forgotten.</p> -<p class="pnext">“When we were forced to leave ‘My Lady’s -Manor’ my plans were laid. There was no key to -that door, but my brother, being a locksmith, had -keys of every shape and size. I took the impression -of the keyhole in wax and never gave up trying -keys until I got one that would turn the rusty lock. -Then, screened by the arbor, I could gain admittance -any hour of the day or night.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But how could you get from the meat room to -other parts of the house?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is a sliding door in the partition which -allowed the servants of that day to get meat from -the room without unlocking the outer door. It -fitted so perfectly that no one could detect it except -by the knob, which I took care should be removed; -and it would not occur to anyone that there was a -narrow room between it and the outer weather-boarding -of the house.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But the costume of Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Anna gave it to me as a memento of her foster -mother. I kept it on one of the hooks, and it was -short work to don it. The meat room having no -window, the light from my shaded lamp could not -be seen from the outside. Here is the key. You -can give it, with my compliments, to Mr. Courtney;” -and again the scornful smile passed over her -lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney saw in this a hint of dismissal -and arose to go; moreover Miss Flint appeared -weak and exhausted.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But can I do nothing for you?” she asked. “It -grieves me to leave you so alone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“When I need assistance from you or anyone in -Dorton, or out of it, I will ask it,” replied Jerusha -haughtily, her black eyes gleaming with unshed -tears, and, seeing that her presence was no longer -desired, Mrs. Courtney went home.</p> -<p class="pnext">When she reached there she found a note from -Mrs. Merryman saying that Mrs. Flynn was ready -any day to assume the duties of housekeeper at -“My Lady’s Manor,” and Mr. Courtney was -encouraged to proceed with his arrangements for -housekeeping.</p> -<p class="pnext">Busy days now followed, for Mrs. Courtney resolved -that her brother’s home should be in perfect -order for his reception on his return from the city -the first evening of taking possession of his inheritance, -and all the Courtney family be there to welcome -him.</p> -<p class="pnext">At length all was in readiness and not only the -parlor but the kitchen at “Friedenheim” was interested, -for Chloe was to depart to take up her abode -as cook at “My Lady’s Manor,” and the evening of -the home-coming was sent over by Mrs. Courtney -to have all in readiness for the supper which she -and Kitty had prepared, and would be brought later -by Mose.</p> -<p class="pnext">Chloe never felt her importance more than when, -as sole occupant of “My Lady’s Manor,” she unlocked -the china closet and took out the beautiful -and costly ware, once the property of Mrs. Joshua -Farnsworth. She was absorbed in admiration of -a tea plate, almost transparent when held between -her and the light, when the door quietly opened and -Archie came in, and without so much as a glance at -the startled Chloe made his way to the corner of the -broad hearth.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie was glad when he saw the smoke coming -again from the chimney. Archie has often looked -for it,” he said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction at -seeing the glow from the open grate of the range.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nobody comes into my kitchen without knockin’. -Don’t like folks to come in that way nohow,” -remarked Chloe, keeping at a respectful distance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie never knocks. All the houses he goes to -are Archie’s homes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“This is Marse Courtney’s house and I am boss -of this kitchen,” proclaimed Chloe.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie is tired. He has walked and walked,” -and before Chloe could make further protest he had -leaned back and closed his eyes in the comfortable -chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">She kept on with her work, but it was with a -feeling of relief that she saw the carriage with Mrs. -Courtney and Cecil stop at the gate.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda on her way from the village school had -stopped to speak to them, and Mrs. Courtney, ever -mindful of the pleasure of others, invited her to -assist in welcoming Mr. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">The delicate flush which always visited the cheek -of Hilda at an unexpected pleasure proved her eagerness -to accept, and she followed Mrs. Courtney up -the broad walk to the entrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am afraid I ought not to stay. Aunt Grace -will worry about me,” she said, as Chloe, in new -plaid turban, opened the door, beaming with satisfaction.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have thought of that, dear, and intend Cecil -to drive over and tell Mrs. Merryman that you are -here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, please let me go with him!” said Hilda -eagerly; “I will put on my pink cashmere dress and -ask Norah to curl my hair.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Certainly, my dear, if you wish it, but you -look very neat to have been in school all day.”</p> -<p class="pnext">With happiness heightening the beauty of her expressive -face, Hilda turned to go.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Tell Mrs. Merryman not to be anxious about -your coming home this evening,” enjoined Mrs. -Courtney; “we will take you in the carriage.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come in and see the table before you go, honey,” -said Chloe, leading the way to the supper room and -watching for Hilda’s admiring glance when the -table came in view.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Chloe, it is splendid!” she said in delight. -“I never saw china and glass glisten so.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, honey, it do glisten, and so do the silver. -Jes’ you wait till the lamps are lighted and you see -that table with the fried chicken and oysters and -pounded biscuit and muffins and raspberry jam. -Be sure and hurry back, honey! Come as soon as -ever you can!”</p> -<p class="pnext">As eager to be among all these triumphs as was -Chloe to have her, Hilda promised, when a new -thought came to her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Chloe, will there be little bouquets at the plates -and a large one in the center of the table as Mrs. -Courtney likes to have at home?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I ’spect so, honey. Mis’ Emma allus sees to the -flowers. There’s oceans of ’em growin’ wild in the -yards and garden.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Chloe, I have the loveliest pink rosebuds -at home. I will bring them to put at Mr. Valentine’s -plate.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where did you get them, honey?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The miller’s wife gave the bush to me. She -asked Miss Jerusha Flint for it, because it had been -planted by Aunt Ashley. And Miss Jerusha gave -it, although she knew it was for me. I knew nothing -of it until I came one evening from school and -found it in my flower bed. It was very kind of -them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I ’spect, honey, Miss Flint don’t care for flowers, -or you wouldn’t have it now.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda smiled and was hurrying away when she -caught sight of Chloe’s first guest.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why, there is Archie!” she cried, “dear, dear -Archie!” and running to him, she took his hand in -her soft little palms.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Does you know him, honey?” asked Chloe, full -of surprise.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Know him? Oh, Chloe, he saved my life!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, honey, I done heard that some old body -found you in the snow. Mighty fine girl he saved; -he ought to be proud of that find.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie is proud,” said the old man who had -waked at the first sound of Hilda’s voice. “Archie -looks all the time for people in the snow since he -found her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">By this time Cecil, who had finished bringing in -the baskets, was waiting for her. She ran out, -stepped into the carriage and was driven away.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope we won’t meet any boys,” thought Cecil. -“They would never stop plaguing me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Merryman was glad that Hilda had the -prospect of this pleasant visit and entertained Cecil -while she ran up to her room to dress, keeping in -remembrance the roses she was to take.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am so glad you will be there, Miss Hilda,” -said Norah joyously as she curled the girl’s beautiful -hair. “I am to go as soon as our supper is over, -and will stay all night with aunt, for Mrs. Merryman, -bless her kind heart, says that aunt will feel -strange and lonely at first.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am glad you are coming, Norah; I am sure -your aunt will be glad to have you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Looking very fair and sweet in her becoming -toilet and with rosebuds in hand, Hilda reached -“My Lady’s Manor” and was assisted from the carriage -by Mr. Valentine Courtney, who was watching -for her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My little Hilda expected to welcome me. Instead -I welcome, gladly welcome her to my home,” -and, taking her hand in his, they went up the broad -path to the entrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, sir,” smiled Hilda. “When I went -past here to school this morning I never thought of -being here this evening.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope it is as much pleasure to you to be here -as it is to me to welcome you,” he said kindly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I love to be here. I think ‘My Lady’s Manor’ -the loveliest place in the world.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then I hope you will come very often,” he returned -smiling with pleasure. “You are fond of -reading, I am sure.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes, I do love a pretty book; I am reading -a beautiful story now.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Here is a large collection and suitable for every -age,” said Mr. Courtney as they reached the library, -which since the days of Mr. Reginald Farnsworth -was on the first floor, across the hall from the -parlor—“you can read here when it suits you, or you -can take any books home with you that you wish.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The glad light in Hilda’s eyes and the flush upon -her cheek showed her appreciation of the offer, for -which she thanked him in her naturally graceful -manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was one of the happiest hours of Mr. Courtney’s -life when, in company with his sister, her -husband and sons and Hilda, they sat at supper in -his own home for the first time.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney did the honors, and Roy and Cecil, -though accustomed to Kitty’s and Chloe’s culinary -achievements all their lives, considered the supper -the best they ever tasted.</p> -<p class="pnext">Twilight came and the whistle of a departing -train had scarcely died upon the air, when Norah, -who had gone to the Dorton Station, was seen coming -with her aunt. Hilda ran to the gate to meet -them, and Mrs. Courtney received Mrs. Flynn kindly, -introduced her to her employer, and asked Norah -to take her to her room while Chloe prepared her -supper.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney admired the neat-looking woman -with the stamp of goodness in her face and felt satisfied -that she was a suitable person to manage her -brother’s household.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda had never enjoyed an evening so thoroughly, -as she flitted like a bird through the spacious -rooms. She was now in the parlor listening to the -cheerful conversation, now in the tea room with -Mrs. Flynn and Norah, then in the kitchen where -Chloe was putting all in order for the night, and -Archie was resting in his chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">“What’s to be done about him, honey?” asked -Chloe in a whisper, nodding her gay turban toward -the sleeper. “He’s gwine to stay all night, that’s -certain; I knowed that as soon as he was done supper, -’cause he never sighted his ol’ hat and cane in -the corner, but made straight back to his chair.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Will I ask Mrs. Courtney, Chloe?” whispered -Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Ax Marse Val, honey, ’cause the house is his’n -now.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda returned to the parlor and stood beside Mr. -Valentine Courtney until he finished something he -was saying to Rev. Carl.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Chloe wishes to know if Archie is to stay over -night,” she said somewhat anxiously; “he does not -say anything about going away.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Certainly he can stay,” replied Mr. Courtney. -“Please tell Chloe to see that he has a comfortable -bed,” and Hilda sped away, well pleased with her -mission.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It would be a poor beginning to my housekeeping -to turn a fellow pilgrim away, would it not?” -he asked, with a smile, of Rev. Carl.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think so, indeed. You are doing right to invite -him to stay and to make him comfortable.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Before we leave you perhaps it would be advisable -for me to go through the rooms in the back -building and see which would be best to give him,” -suggested Mrs. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before Mr. Valentine could reply Hilda came -running back to the parlor. “He has gone to his -room without waiting for anybody to tell him,” she -said almost breathlessly. “He says he knows the -room that Lois gave him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Rev. Carl gave a hearty peal of laughter, in -which all joined. “That is the style of visitors to -have, brother Val,” he said; “they save you the -trouble of entertaining them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I look upon it as a good omen,” smiled his -brother-in-law. “I hope my home will be a place of -rest and refreshment to all who enter its doors.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am sure it will be,” said Mrs. Courtney sincerely; -“but this Archie, I don’t understand his saying -that he knows the room that Lois gave him. I -am quite sure it was not in Mr. Joshua Farnsworth’s -time, or in that of his widow, or Anna. I -was here quite often, and never saw him or heard -any of them speak of him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The servants who had charge afterward may -have allowed him to sleep here, and no doubt were -glad to have company near them,” suggested Rev. -Carl.</p> -<p class="pnext">“While we were reviving Hilda the night that -Archie found her in the snow, Diana Strong mentioned -that she had seen him on the road more than -once, but did not know his name,” remarked Mrs. -Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I, too, remember hearing him spoken of that -evening,” rejoined Rev. Carl. “Dr. Lattinger -mentioned that he frequently met him, and said that he -was a mystery to him, reminding him of the Wandering -Jew. He added that Archie is weak-minded -and does not know his last name.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He appears to be one who has seen better times,” -commented Mrs. Courtney. “There is an air of -refinement about him that one does not see in the -ordinary wayfarer. I believe that he has a history, -but it is not likely that we will ever know it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">It was now time to return to “Friedenheim,” and -Mrs. Courtney arose to go.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope, sister, that you will allow Roy and Cecil -to come here frequently and pass the night with me. -I will bring Ralph and James often, and wish all -these young people and their friends to take pleasure -in visiting here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They will not be more pleased to come than I -will be to have them with you, and we all wish -you every happiness in your home,” replied his sister -affectionately. And thus ended the happy day -that welcomed Hilda Brinsfield for the second period -of her life to “My Lady’s Manor.”</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiiletters-which-bring-a-trial-to-hilda"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id9">CHAPTER VIII—LETTERS WHICH BRING A TRIAL TO HILDA</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Not only the village of Dorton, but the whole -country around it rejoiced that Mr. Valentine -Courtney was the owner of “My Lady’s Manor,” -and that it was again occupied and one of the hospitable -homes of the neighborhood.</p> -<p class="pnext">His first purchase was a pair of handsome horses, -a comfortable carriage and a phaeton.</p> -<p class="pnext">For coachman he wished a middle-aged, unmarried -man, for whom he advertised, and among -the many who responded was one he was satisfied -to engage. This man was Sandy MacQuoid, a -Scotchman who bore testimonials from two Edinburgh -families as to his exemplary character and -capability.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandy was tall, thin and pale, quiet in manner -and scrupulously neat in attire, which was always -black and perfect in fit.</p> -<p class="pnext">With congratulations of his own good fortune, -Mr. Courtney brought him to “My Lady’s Manor” -and the years which followed proved Sandy’s testimonials -correct; he vied in fidelity with the Irish -housekeeper and the African cook.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandy stipulated but for one favor after the matter -of salary was agreed upon, and that was that he -might bring a parrot, which had been trained to -say many things, and his Scotch bagpipes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney granted both requests with pleasure -for he was partial to pets and fond of music; -moreover the place would be rendered more attractive -to his nephews and their friends, and to Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">With the cordial assent of Mrs. Merryman, Hilda -had availed herself of the invitation of Mr. Courtney -to read in his library, and almost every afternoon -on her way from school she passed an hour -or more in the home-like room.</p> -<p class="pnext">Although Mrs. Flynn and Chloe saw but little of -her during that hour, they were glad to know she -was there; the day always seemed brighter when -she passed on the way to the library, halting to chat -a moment with them.</p> -<p class="pnext">As a rule, she was away by the time that Mr. -Courtney returned from the city, but it was a pleasure -to him to hear that she had been there.</p> -<p class="pnext">At his request Mrs. Flynn frequently invited -Hilda and her schoolmates to tea, which request was -all the more heartily appreciated by her that Norah -always came and spent the evening in order to see -Hilda safely home.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was also an understood thing that when Rev. -Carl and Mrs. Courtney came to take tea at “My -Lady’s Manor” Hilda should be invited, and she -always accepted the invitation. Thus in time she -looked upon the villa as a second home, as when a -child in the cottage of her Aunt Ashley she passed -so much time there with Anna Ashburton.</p> -<p class="pnext">Happy summers passed, and winters equally -pleasant, and Hilda was growing into healthy, symmetrical -and beautiful young womanhood, the cultivation -of her fine mind keeping pace with her -growth.</p> -<p class="pnext">Three days in each week Mr. Courtney went to -the city in his carriage and Sandy, after leaving him -at his office, purchased supplies for the household.</p> -<p class="pnext">One day, after completing this, he was driving to -the hotel where the horses were cared for, when he -had the unexpected pleasure of meeting an old -friend who had recently arrived from “the land of -the thistle.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandy invited him to take luncheon with him, -after which they repaired to the lodgings of his -friend where he was presented with a young Scotch -terrier of great intelligence.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandy’s pleasure in the gift was enhanced by that -of Mr. Courtney, and when Roy and Cecil came -over that evening they could scarcely tear themselves -away in time to study their next day’s lessons, -so charmed were they with the terrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">The parrot was kept on the porch, as a rule, and -in order to hear its quaint speeches one had to go -there, but the terrier was here, there and everywhere; -and Hilda was almost tempted at times to -defer her reading in the library to be amused by the -antics of the canine foreigner.</p> -<p class="pnext">Seeing her fondness for the terrier, Chloe was -loth to complain of it, but could not at times refrain -when his mischief grew too pronounced.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That pup is mighty mischievous, honey,” she -said one afternoon upon recovering her breath after -chasing the terrier to get her clean turban which he -had captured. “You don’t know the tricks that -terrier can play. When the door-bell rings and I -go to let company in, I’m never sartin that a pile -of bones or ol’ shoes won’t fall in when I open the -door.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wonder why he likes best to put them at the -front door when there are so many doors to the -house?” laughed Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Jes’ to be as tricky as ever he kin, honey, and -where he finds the ol’ shoes is the riddle I can’t -guess. I never sees none layin’ around, and I burns -all he fotches in.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But he is so funny, Chloe, and we all love him -so!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I’m not gwine to say nothin’ agin him, honey, -and haven’t said nothin’, even when he tore up my -best turban that Mis’ Emma done give me. Mrs. -Flynn feeds him. She puts a piece of oilcloth on -the floor by the table and gives the terrier scraps -while she and Mr. Sandy is eatin’.”</p> -<p class="pnext">One afternoon Mrs. Courtney, Mrs. Merryman -and Hilda went to take tea at “My Lady’s Manor,” -a charming walk across the fields that lovely day, -and Hilda was the happiest of the happy.</p> -<p class="pnext">The afternoon passed speedily and pleasantly, -and Hilda, who had been part of the time in the -library, was first to see the carriage containing Mr. -Courtney and Sandy stop at the side gate. She ran -joyously to announce his arrival to Mrs. Courtney, -then to the kitchen to tell Chloe, then out to the -gate to meet him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My home-coming is always more pleasant when -Hilda is here to welcome me,” he said cordially as -he clasped her dimpled hand; “something told me -that you would meet me at the gate.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda flushed with pleasure, and, clinging to his -hand, she went with him to the parlor, where he -welcomed the other guests, then went to his dressing -room, the terrier flying up the steps in advance -of him, and watching every movement with alert, -bright eyes until he descended.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda’s request to arrange the bouquet for the -center of the table was cheerfully granted by Mrs. -Flynn, and with scissors in hand she went to the -garden, the terrier following in an ecstasy of delight -and playing about her until he saw Archie -coming through the gate, his coat upon his arm, -for the evening was warm.</p> -<p class="pnext">The terrier ran to meet him, danced around him -and barked, but Archie paid no attention to him, -and walking slowly up he placed his coat on the -balustrade of the back porch, then went to his favorite -seat in the kitchen, and was soon asleep, worn -out with his constant walking.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda, in the meantime, had arranged her roses -in a tall vase and placed them upon the table; then -the tea-bell rang and Mr. Courtney and his guests -gathered about it, and cheerful conversation enlivened -the meal.</p> -<p class="pnext">When it was finished they went to the library, -where later, Sandy, tall, grave and reserved, joined -them at Mr. Courtney’s request to give them Scotch -airs upon the bagpipes.</p> -<p class="pnext">It seemed to Hilda, seated near Mr. Courtney, -that Sandy’s music never sounded so mournfully -sweet as upon that evening, the last time she was -to hear it for many days. For destiny was quietly -closing the doors of “My Lady’s Manor” upon her, -and opening those of a distant farmhouse, the existence -of which she had never known.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the pauses of the music the occupants of the -library heard a scampering and a scuffling upon the -porch, mingled with sharp, quick barks, and the -dragging of something to and fro.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney arose and was about to pass from -the room to see what occasioned the sounds, when -through the open door rushed the terrier, bearing -in his mouth two letters which he dropped upon the -floor and then ran out.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Can’t find no mo’ ol’ shoes so must go and tear -up the coat that Marse Archie sot so much store -by,” said Chloe, as she captured both coat and the -terrier as he was again scampering into the library. -“I done heerd that scampering and knowed that tarrier -was up to sumpin’, and he’s done tore out the -linin’ of that good coat and the cover off a letter.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Did he get the letters out of the coat?” asked -Mr. Courtney, as Hilda picked them from the floor.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I ’spect so, sir. There weren’t no letters on -the piazzy ’till the tarrier done tore the coat.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“This one is signed ‘Janette Ashley’,” said Hilda, -becoming very pale, “and is addressed to ‘My Dear -Sister Sarah.’ I remember that Aunt Ashley’s first -name was Janette,” she added, turning to Mrs. -Merryman and putting the letter in her hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It was, Hilda, and her sister’s name was Sarah -Warfield. Shall I read it aloud?”</p> -<p class="pnext">The girl nodded; she could not trust her voice to -speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">“These must be the letters of which Diana Strong -spoke the evening of my reception,” remarked Mrs. -Merryman when she finished reading. “The dates -prove that they were written the week of Mrs. -Ashley’s death.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“My husband wrote this one,” said Mrs. Courtney, -to whom Mrs. Merryman had passed the letters. -“I recognize the writing; besides, I remember -hearing him say at the time that he had written -a letter for Mrs. Ashley to her sister in Ohio. He -wrote it at the cottage and I remember his saying -that Mrs. Ashley asked Diana to give him her pen -from the writing desk. He said it was the handsomest -he had ever seen, a gold pen, the handle -also gold, and set with lines of rubies. He commented -upon the beauty of it, and Mrs. Ashley said -her father gave it to her upon her fifteenth birthday, -and she had never used any other since.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But where have the letters been all this time?” -said Mrs. Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Without doubt in the pocket of the coat of -which the terrier has torn the lining,” said Mr. -Courtney, whose handsome face had grown pale and -sad since the reading of the letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Poor Mrs. Warfield never received them and we -have censured her for not replying,” continued Mrs. -Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But one would suppose that not receiving any -letter from her sister, she would write to know the -reason for her silence,” suggested Mr. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She may have done so, but I never heard of it. -Diana said that she asked the postmaster to forward -a newspaper containing a notice of Mrs. Ashley’s -death.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What should be done with the letters?” asked -Mrs. Courtney. “Ought they not be forwarded to -Mrs. Warfield?”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda sat pale and silent, glancing anxiously from -one to another, and for a time no one spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It appears to be the just, therefore the right -thing, to do,” commented Mrs. Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“As my husband wrote one of the letters, if you -all agree to it, I will take them home and ask him -to forward them to Mrs. Warfield. Wouldn’t that -be best, my love?” asked Mrs. Courtney, turning to -Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, she may think I ought to go to her! How -can I leave you all?” exclaimed the girl.</p> -<p class="pnext">Tears filled the eyes of the elder ladies, and Mr. -Courtney arose and left the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But we would not be acting justly to the living -or the dead by withholding them,” interposed Mrs. -Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, it would not be right, they must be sent,” -sobbed Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The question with me is, how letters written so -long ago came to be in Archie’s coat,” said Mrs. -Merryman. “I know that he is, in his sad, preoccupied -way, searching for something in his pitiable -wanderings, and has his pockets at times filled -with trifles, but these letters, while somewhat -stained and yellow, are not the least worn, so could -not have been carried long in his pocket.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It will always be a mystery, I think, unless he -is willing to tell us where he found them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He was at our house over night,” said Mrs. -Merryman reflectively. “I wonder, if asked, -whether he could tell where he got them. Will you -ask him, Hilda?”</p> -<p class="pnext">She obeyed immediately, but as they supposed, -he could not give the least information.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Diana incidentally mentioned that she gave the -letters to Perry to mail. It may be that he is the -one to blame for their not being received by Mrs. -Warfield. I will ask him as soon as I get home,” -continued Mrs. Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But what could be his object, and where has he -kept them all these years without your knowledge?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have not the least idea. He has a small trunk, -but it is never locked, nor has he ever given the -least evidence that he is keeping anything hidden.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda arose and left the library, and as she -stepped into the hall she heard footsteps of someone -passing to and fro upon the long piazza. It was -Mr. Courtney, and as she appeared in the door-way -he halted and held out his hand to her. She glided -swiftly to him and he clasped her hand and placed -it within his arm, and silently they walked back and -forth.</p> -<p class="pnext">The ladies prepared for their return home, and -Mrs. Merryman went to apprise Hilda, who withdrew -her hand to follow. For one brief moment -Mr. Courtney clasped her in his arms, for one brief -moment she sobbed upon his breast, then she rejoined -the others. They bade the master of “My -Lady’s Manor” good-night at his gate and left him -to his sad forebodings.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Mrs. Merryman reached home she questioned -Perry, whereupon he made a full confession, -glad to be relieved of the secret which had so long -oppressed him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana Strong, during Mrs. Ashley’s illness, had -given him two letters to mail at the Dorton -postoffice. He had opened them out of mere curiosity, -as he earnestly alleged, and they had been a millstone -about his neck. Terror of the law had made -him afraid to have them found in his possession, -and what conscience he had, refused to let him destroy -them. He had taken them to the woods and -placed them in the hollow of a tree too far up for -them to be seen from the ground, and hearing Mr. -Merryman say that the tree was to be felled, he was -compelled to remove the letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">The visit of Archie to the Merryman home had -left an avenue of escape, and he watched his opportunity -when the wanderer was about to depart to -slip them in the pocket of his coat; and the old man -went to “My Lady’s Manor,” unconscious that he -was bearing a message that would take Hilda from -the home where he had placed her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Perry was anxious to do all he could to atone, -and as a commencement was willing to leave a game -of ball to carry a note from Mrs. Merryman to -“Friedenheim,” that Rev. Carl might know the -whole story before writing that evening to Mrs. -Warfield, enclosing the letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield was one who never dallied over a -known duty. Her answer came by return mail, and -had Hilda been destitute of a home, or situated less -happily than she was, the letter would have given -her unmingled satisfaction. As it was, it brought -to her heart and to that of another a chill of bitter -disappointment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield wrote that she had received the -paper containing the notice of Mrs. Ashley’s death -while ill from the effect of the railway accident, and -the nervous terror resulting from it had kept her -from traveling since. She explained that Mrs. Lacy -having gone to France to reside, she had no one to -communicate with, and had written to the postmaster -at Dorton asking the name of any friend -of Mrs. Ashley whom she could address. He replied, -but had taken so little interest in the matter -that he sent the name of Mrs. Reginald Farnsworth, -of San Francisco.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield wrote immediately, and after several -weeks she received a letter saying that Mrs. -Farnsworth was traveling in Europe, but the letter -had been forwarded by the postmaster in response -to Mrs. Warfield’s request.</p> -<p class="pnext">She never received a reply, and still hoped the -time would come when she could visit Dorton and -learn for herself what she had used all means in -her power to know through others. She added that -she was rejoiced to know that Mrs. Ashley had intrusted -Hilda to her care, and so far as lay in her -power the trust should be faithfully cherished.</p> -<p class="pnext">The letter concluded by saying that her eldest son -would visit Philadelphia the following week, and -would take great pleasure in going to Dorton to -accompany Hilda to the home that would welcome -her gladly.</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening of the day that this letter was received -found Mr. Valentine Courtney in consultation -with his sister, and the next morning that lady -visited Mrs. Merryman, going early that she might -see Hilda before she set out for school.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney having—as she reminded Mrs. -Merryman—no daughter of her own, asked as a -favor that she be allowed to exercise her taste in -providing an outfit for Hilda which might not be -convenient to obtain in her new home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Merryman, taking the offer in the spirit it -was made, gave glad consent, and it was decided -that Hilda should accompany Mrs. Courtney to -Baltimore that morning upon a shopping expedition.</p> -<p class="pnext">This was a charming surprise to Hilda. She -was ready by the time Mrs. Courtney and Mrs. -Merryman had discussed the needs of the prospective -young traveler, and it seemed like a fairy -story that instead of walking to school, she was -spinning along the pleasant road between Dorton -and Baltimore in a roomy, comfortable carriage behind -a pair of fine bay horses, and with the charming -companionship of Mrs. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">Shopping proved to be the most attractive of -amusements as they drove from one business house -to another, and to the inexperienced girl Mrs. -Courtney’s purse seemed inexhaustible.</p> -<p class="pnext">“One article that Mrs. Merryman and I agreed -upon as being indispensable is a large trunk,” Mrs. -Courtney remarked as they reached the city. “We -will buy it the first article, and all the other purchases -can be taken home in it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was charmed with the selection made. It -was handsome, substantial and commodious, with -many little compartments dear to the heart of the -feminine traveler.</p> -<p class="pnext">The buying of dress goods came next, and Hilda -was in her element, and Mrs. Courtney was surprised -at the judgment she evinced in selecting what -was suitable to her age and appearance.</p> -<p class="pnext">Wraps, hats, gloves, ruffles, and all the articles -which complete a girl’s wardrobe were rapidly filling -the trunk which Mose had strapped on the rack -on the back of the carriage.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now, dear Hilda, I have a favor to ask of you, -and that is to sit for your picture. Mrs. Merryman -wishes one, I should like to have one, and brother -Valentine would be pleased to have you present one -to him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And one for Miss Jerusha Flint,” supplemented -Hilda, laughingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Of course,” assented Mrs. Courtney, amused -at the suggestion. “But first we will take luncheon -at the ladies’ restaurant where I always go upon -these shopping tours, then to the picture gallery, -then to a dressmaker’s to be fitted, and I think we -will feel that we have made very good use of our -time.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But, dear Mrs. Courtney, would it not be better -to wait for the photograph until one of these new -dresses is made?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, dear, we prefer seeing you in the pink cashmere. -It is the same you wore when last at ‘My -Lady’s Manor,’ and is very becoming. We will go -now and have a good luncheon which will refresh -us for our afternoon’s shopping.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The gallery was visited and the sweet face of -Hilda imaged for the friends she was soon to leave, -the dresses fitted, and she supposed all they had -come to do was accomplished.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We have had a pleasant day together, Hilda,” -said her friend, “and I wish to give you a remembrance -of it and of me—something useful as -well as ornamental. Would you like a watch?”</p> -<p class="pnext">No need to wait for an answer; the beaming eyes, -smiling lips and rosy tint which rose to the fair -face were more expressive than words, and Mrs. -Courtney led the way to a jeweler’s where she again -had occasion to admire the innate refinement and -courtesy of Hilda. What the donor selected was her -choice, and her pleasure was enhanced and the value -of the gift increased by the inscription which Mrs. -Courtney requested should be engraved on the inner -side of the case: “The Lord is my Shepherd; I -shall not want.”</p> -<p class="pnext">It was left with the jeweler to be brought out to -“Friedenheim” by Mr. Courtney. Then they turned -their faces homeward, and thus ended this red letter -day in the life of Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">It had always been a foregone conclusion that -anything in which Mrs. Courtney took part proved -to be a success; therefore the pretty new gowns, the -watch and the cabinet pictures reached “Friedenheim” -in good time, and were satisfactory in every -respect.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield’s son Paul came at the appointed -time and was, in the eyes of Mr. Valentine Courtney—who, -with his sister, called that evening to -see him and bid good-bye to Hilda—a young Apollo. -In the opinion of the others—Hilda not excepted—he -was a tall, finely formed young man, with good -features, dark hair and eyes and a firm mouth and -chin.</p> -<p class="pnext">He bore well his part in the after-supper conversation, -and Hilda had a feeling of pride that her -Aunt Ashley’s nephew was so worthy the attention -of her Dorton friends, while he was more than -pleased with them all.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He is young, handsome, cultured, well educated -and agreeable,” thought Mr. Courtney. “There is -every reason for Hilda to become attached to him -now that they will be under the same roof.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Obeying the request of Mrs. Courtney, and her -own inclination, Hilda selected the most perfect of -the pictures of herself to give to Mr. Courtney, and -had gone to her room early in the evening and had -brought it down to the parlor to have it in readiness -to give when he arose to leave.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was given and accepted, farewells were said, -and the Courtneys went to their homes; then Hilda, -who had borne herself bravely during the evening, -bade Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and Paul good-night -and went to her room, and from the window looked -with tear-dimmed eyes upon “My Lady’s Manor.”</p> -<p class="pnext">She watched the light gleaming in the library -where she knew that Mr. Courtney was sitting -alone, and when at a late hour it disappeared she -retired and wept until slumber closed her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next morning was bright and beautiful, and, -refreshed by sleep, and possessing the hope and -buoyancy of youth when not crushed out by affliction -or cruelty, Hilda arose and dressed for her -journey in the pretty new traveling dress, which, -with hat and gloves, she had placed in readiness before -retiring.</p> -<p class="pnext">Descending to breakfast, the first object that met -her gaze was a bouquet of roses which she knew at -a glance had come from Mr. Courtney. She had -been accustomed to seeing flowers all her life, but -these seemed the sweetest and loveliest she had ever -known. She examined each bud and blossom, and -admired anew the donor’s name and compliments -upon the card.</p> -<p class="pnext">Tears were in Mrs. Merryman’s eyes, and tender-hearted -Norah wept, when Hilda, equipped for the -journey, stood, bouquet in hand, ready to go to the -carriage which Perry brought to the gate.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Good-bye, dear Aunt Merryman!” she said, putting -an arm around that faithful friend as they -stood upon the piazza.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Good-bye, dear Hilda!” responded the lady as -she pressed kisses upon the lips and the fair brow -of the girl. “We shall miss you; do not forget us.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How can I forget, when I have found mother -and father in you and Uncle Merryman?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And, Hilda,” continued Mrs. Merryman in a -low tone, and noticing that Mr. Merryman and -Paul were engaged in parting words—“never, never -let your Aunt Ashley’s prayer grow dim in your -memory.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, dear Aunt Merryman, I will always look -upon it as my guide through life, and with it will -associate you who have tenderly kept it in my remembrance; -and see,” she added with a sudden -flush of color to her cheeks, “it is being answered, -in part, at least, for my home and that of Aunt -Sarah Warfield will be one and the same.”</p> -<p class="pnext">They all walked down the path to the waiting -carriage, Mr. Merryman helped her in and bade her -good-bye; then with a few last words they were on -their way to the Dorton station while Mr. and Mrs. -Merryman returned slowly to the house feeling that -something sweet and pleasant had been removed -from their home and lives, never again to be restored.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a few minutes the travelers reached Baltimore, -where the train halted, and to Hilda’s surprise and -pleasure Mr. Valentine Courtney appeared at the -window by which she was seated, his handsome -face growing brighter when he saw his roses in her -hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“They are lovely; I treasure them!” she said, -touching them with her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">“And this, also, I hope,” he said, putting a small -package in her hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know I shall,” she answered, flushing with -surprise and anticipation, giving him a smile and -glance which lingered long in his memory. She -waved her hand in farewell, and they were gone. -And he returned to his office, and in the evening to -“My Lady’s Manor,” feeling more desolate than he -had ever been in his life.</p> -<p class="pnext">The world in which he had lived since taking possession -of his home was not, as it had been, the -matter-of-fact world of business alone. It was a -new world, rosy with sweet companionship and -hope; morning sunshine which had now given place -to evening clouds and coming darkness.</p> -<p class="pnext">He tried to think that he was no more desolate -than before he had known Hilda, but his reasonings -brought no comfort. He was not—as when Anna -was taken from him—reconciled to the lot which he -had in Christian faith looked upon as not only out -of his power to prevent, but as something which -God willed, and it was therefore his Christian duty -to be submissive.</p> -<p class="pnext">Had Hilda been a few years older, Paul Warfield -should not have taken her away before he had made -known his attachment. He had not done this, believing -it not honorable to fetter her with a promise -before she had seen anything of the world. Now -she was gone, and he was grieved that he had given -her no hint of his feelings. He realized that he -had been unjust to himself and to her.</p> -<p class="pnext">As soon as possible after they were again on their -way, Hilda untied the packet and brought to view -a crimson velvet case in which was a fine picture of -Mr. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, it is so like him, so exactly like him!” she -exclaimed in delight, as Paul bent his stately head -to look upon it. “Isn’t he the very handsomest man -you ever saw?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He is very elegant looking, indeed, Cousin -Hilda,” responded Paul heartily.</p> -<p class="pnext">“And just as good as he is handsome! He is so -kind to everybody and urges poor Archie, who -saved my life, to make his home at ‘My Lady’s -Manor,’ and pass his days in rest and comfort; but -Archie will stay only for a night, preferring to -wander about.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He is handsome and of noble presence, Cousin -Hilda,” remarked Paul as he saw her looking again -upon the picture, “but I cannot agree with you that -he is the handsomest man I ever saw, and he is -somewhat gray.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Only a little upon the temples,” said Hilda eagerly. -“Some persons turn gray early.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Wait until you have seen my brother Fred,” said -Paul, a little confusedly. “Do not think me boastful, -Cousin Hilda, but all agree that Fred is very handsome, -and he is young.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I suppose he looks like you,” said Hilda, in all -sincerity.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Girls never see me when Fred is around. He -seems to know exactly what to say to interest -them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And ‘My Lady’s Manor’ is such a lovely place,” -resumed Hilda. “I wish you could have stayed -even one day longer and visited there and at ‘Friedenheim.’ -They are such beautiful places, and my -friends are all so kind.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They are indeed charming people. I was glad -to meet them and would have enjoyed remaining, -but, little cousin, I have something to tell you. -Shall it be now?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, now,” echoed the girl eagerly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I told your Dorton friends that we would remain -in Philadelphia until to-morrow with Mr. and -Mrs. De Cormis, old friends of my father. A niece -of Mr. De Cormis from Woodmont, a village near -my home in Ohio, is visiting there, and I am glad -to have you become acquainted.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is she a dear friend of yours?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, the dearest.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Did she come to Philadelphia with you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, she has been there several weeks. She has -many friends there to visit, for she lived there all -her life until the past four years, when she and her -father came to Woodmont. Her father, Rev. Horace -De Cormis, is pastor of our church and is one -of the best of men.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Will she go back to Ohio with us?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, her visit is not yet completed. Her uncle, -Mr. Robert De Cormis, and his family wish her -to remain the winter with them, but she is a devoted -daughter and is not willing to leave her father -longer than a fortnight more. You may know that -we were glad to meet again.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You love each other, then?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, little cousin, when you see her you will understand -how impossible it would be not to love -her! If nothing prevents, we expect to be married -before another autumn.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am glad, Cousin Paul, and hope you will be -very happy.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, cousin; I am sure you wish it. I -cannot fail being happy with Lura De Cormis.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What style of person is she, Cousin Paul?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is faultlessly fair, has coal black hair and -brilliant black eyes, lips like coral, perfect teeth, and -her hands are small, white, and beautifully formed.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She must be beautiful,” commented Hilda. “I -hope she will love me. Is it easy to make her acquaintance?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is considered very reserved, but she is interested -in you. I am sure you cannot help being -congenial friends.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Paul’s fiancée was out when the travelers arrived -at the handsome home of Mr. Robert De Cormis.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. De Cormis received them cordially and conducted -Hilda to the pretty apartment she was to -occupy, then left her that she might make her toilet -for dinner.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda took girlish delight in arraying herself -in one of the new gowns, which fitted her lithe -figure perfectly and was charmingly becoming.</p> -<p class="pnext">She heard the door-bell ring, and heard the sound -of cheery voices and descended to the parlor to meet -Miss Lura De Cormis. Paul met her at the door -and led her to the alcove window where the young -lady stood, so absorbed in reading a letter just received -from her father that she did not hear Hilda’s -step upon the soft carpet.</p> -<p class="pnext">The introduction was given and when Hilda -looked upon the face of the future Mrs. Paul Warfield -she saw a younger and fairer, but with those -exceptions, a living image of Jerusha Flint.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ixat-the-gypsy-encampment"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id10">CHAPTER IX—AT THE GYPSY ENCAMPMENT</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">It was evening of a cloudless day when Paul and -Hilda reached the Warfield farmhouse, which was -looking charmingly picturesque in the ruby-red glow -of the sunset.</p> -<p class="pnext">The flowers in the lawn were giving out their -sweetness, and birds in the maples were singing -their vesper songs as if in greeting to the travelers.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield’s welcome to both was tenderly -kind, and the marked resemblance she bore to Mrs. -Ashley was a joy to Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">Separated from those whose loving kindness had -made life a holiday to her, she had again found a -home and a mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will not weary you, my dear, by questioning -now, but will give you the opportunity to refresh -yourself after your journey,” said Mrs. Warfield, -and, conducting Hilda to a pleasant room adjoining -her own, she left her to herself and returned to the -parlor to talk with Paul.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Her beauty quite bewildered me, it was so unexpected,” -she said, laying her hand upon his shoulder -as he sat by the window, newspaper in hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and the Merrymans spoke of the sweetness -of her disposition. She will be a charming companion -for you, mother.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know I will love her as a daughter. How did -you like the family who have so kindly cared for -her?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I never met strangers whom I admire more. -We have taken her from an excellent home, mother, -and must try to make her happy here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We will. And now tell me of my future daughter-in-law,” -continued Mrs. Warfield, with a smile. -“I hope she is well and happy.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Perfectly so,” replied the young man, smiling in -turn and reddening slightly. “She sent her love to -her future mother-in-law.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“For which I am duly obliged. When does she -expect to come home?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“In a fortnight, and has promised to be my wife -within the year. Mother dear, you will have more -daughters than you can manage!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I can count upon three. Fred will be -bringing me a daughter one of these days, I suppose.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“If he can keep in love with any one girl long -enough. He is fickle, and the girls seem to know -it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He is a jolly, generous, conscientious boy,” -commented his mother with a glow of pride. “I -don’t believe he would intentionally wound the feelings -of anyone, and I hope the girls he flirts with -understand that he means nothing serious.”</p> -<p class="pnext">A step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment -Hilda appeared at the parlor door.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think I told you on our journey that Fred is -reading law with an attorney in Springfield,” remarked -Paul, as he arose to give her a chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and you also said that you expected him -this evening.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did, and he has come,” exclaimed Paul, glancing -eagerly toward the door, for quick footsteps -were coming toward it, and a buoyant voice had -called, “Mother, where are you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Here!” responded Mrs. Warfield, her eyes beaming -with pleasure. “Come and welcome your new -cousin!”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred came forward in his easy, graceful manner -and was presented in due form.</p> -<p class="pnext">“They are as handsome as pictures,” thought -Mrs. Warfield proudly. “The Garden of Eden -could scarcely have shown a handsomer couple.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How are you, old fellow?” said Fred, turning -with a bright smile to shake hands with his brother.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In fine health and spirits, and I see you are the -same.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I thought you were not coming until late. Having -you in time for supper is an unexpected pleasure,” -said his mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I intended coming out on the evening train, -but there are gypsies encamped in Mr. Barry’s -woods, and some of the young people of Springfield -came out in carriages to have their fortunes told, -and insisted that I should come with them, and -here I am.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have not the least belief in gypsies or in fortune -telling, but I am glad you are here. Now we -will go to the tea table.”</p> -<p class="pnext">With an arm about his mother’s waist, Paul led -the way, and Fred, with a radiant smile of pleasure, -offered his arm to Hilda, who accepted with a -smile and blush.</p> -<p class="pnext">If Mrs. Warfield allowed herself to be proud of -anything, it was of her sons, and not without reason. -They were sensible, well educated, attentive -to business, and honorable in their dealings, and -mothers with marriageable daughters could not forbear -pointing out, or at least alluding to the excellence -of these damsels when in the society of Sarah -Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">If it be true that happy people have no history, -then nothing could have been recorded of Fred -Warfield, for Mother Destiny had willed that his -pathway from babyhood should lie in sunshine, -never in shadow. He had experienced but few disappointments -and fewer trials to dampen his exuberant -spirits; but light, almost trifling as he was in -manner, his intimates knew that beneath it all was -a warm, affectionate nature, a steadfast love for -what was good, and a wish to help others to enjoy -life, as he undoubtedly did.</p> -<p class="pnext">That he was captivated by every new face and -fickle in his attachments was known to all who were -acquainted with him, but they looked upon it as no -more than might be expected of a handsome youth -who was courted and admired in society, a fault -which age and experience would correct.</p> -<p class="pnext">That evening at the farmhouse was an ideally -happy one to him, the only shadow to its brightness -being the knowledge that he could not study law in -Springfield and at the same time remain under the -home roof without attracting attention to the fact -that it was because Hilda was there.</p> -<p class="pnext">Without appearing to notice, Mrs. Warfield took -note of Fred’s manner to the young girl, and read -his thoughts as accurately as if inscribed upon the -page of an open book, and resolved to have a more -serious conversation with him than she had ever -had in regard to his failing.</p> -<p class="pnext">If it lay in her power to prevent it, there should -be no trifling with the affections of any girl, no -blighted happiness laid to the charge of her sons.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is really too beautiful this evening to stay indoors,” -remarked Fred, when, tea finished, they returned -to the parlor. “Mother, I will have Planchette -put to the carriage and take you and cousin -Hilda for a drive.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I would enjoy it, but Hilda will excuse me this -evening, as several ladies are coming from the village -to help arrange for a fair to be held in the hall -there, but that need not prevent you and Hilda from -going.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We will drive past the gypsy encampment,” said -Fred eagerly, turning to Hilda. “It is really romantic; -I could scarcely tear myself away. You -will go, won’t you, cousin?”</p> -<p class="pnext">No need to ask. Hilda’s face showed her delight -in anticipation of something so new and altogether -enchanting.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope you will not encourage the gypsies by -stopping to listen to their foolishness,” said Mrs. -Warfield gently.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, I would not have them tell my fortune for -anything!” ejaculated Hilda. “I would be afraid -they would tell me something evil.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That would depend upon what you paid them,” -smiled Mrs. Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred made no comment, but hurried out to give -orders for the conveyance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now, cousin mine,” he said as it came to the -gate, “allow me to assist you,” and with easy grace -he took the filmy white scarf from Hilda’s hand -and placed it adroitly and becomingly on her brown -hair and a few minutes later Planchette was speeding -away with the long swinging trot which characterized -her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred had said truly that nothing could be pleasanter -than the drive to the encampment, and nothing -more romantic than the scene upon which they -looked a little later.</p> -<p class="pnext">In order to observe, and, as he thought, be unobserved, -Fred selected as a good place to halt a -part of the forest separated from the encampment -by a running brook and the thick screen of willows -on either side, between the trunks of which they -could, with but slight obstruction, have a good view -of the camp.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the foreground were two small tents, in front -of which was burning a bright fire of brushwood.</p> -<p class="pnext">Two forked sticks supported an iron rod from -which was suspended a tea kettle, clouds of steam -issuing from lid and spout.</p> -<p class="pnext">Upon a large box which served as a table a middle-aged -woman had spread a white cloth, and was -placing upon it dishes of different colors, and with -an eye to effect.</p> -<p class="pnext">A young and handsome gypsy in a scarlet dress -and with a plaid kerchief about her shapely throat -was seated under a large oak tree that spread its -protecting arms over the tents.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her swarthy yet clear complexion was smooth -as satin, her eyes were large, brown and lustrous, -and her crimson lips parted frequently in smiles at -the gambols of the child at her feet, showing her -perfect teeth. Two robust little boys played about -the mossy bank, upon whom her eyes rested with -pride.</p> -<p class="pnext">Back of the tents stood two substantial, covered -wagons, and under the oaks beside them lay three -gypsy men, idly watching the horses, which, held -by ropes, were cropping the grass within reach.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It looks so lovely and peaceful,” commented -Hilda. “I wish an artist were here to sketch it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The full moon is rising,” said Fred, turning to -look through the window of the carriage; “the tops -of the trees are becoming silvered, which adds to -the beauty. Would you like to be a gypsy, Cousin -Hilda?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“At this hour it would be charming to encamp; -but during the bitter cold and snow-storms of winter -the poor creatures must suffer.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No danger but they will keep warm so long as -there is wood to steal; besides, they are accustomed -to rough it,” said Fred lightly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“And yet they suffer sometimes from exposure. -When I was a child Dr. Lattinger attended a gypsy -who was ill of pneumonia. Their encampment was -in the woods near Dorton during two months of -winter, and Dr. Lattinger saw her twice a day. He -said they were very respectful to him, and in sympathy -for the sick woman and in care of her were -much like our own people. They were of the tribe -of Stanley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I suppose they have good and evil among -them as have other communities, but it is the general -belief that gypsies are not trustworthy.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Which of those women is the fortune-teller?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Neither of those. I do not see her. She must -be in one of the tents.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is she handsome?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Handsome! She is gray and wrinkled, and -toothless and swarthy, cross-grained and disagreeable -in every way. Phew!” grimaced Fred, at the -remembrance of the prophetess.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She did not please you in your fortune, I think,” -laughed Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She was not very clever to me, that is certain. -Jack Prettyman gave her the largest fee, and is to -marry a rich and beautiful girl and live in Europe.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What did she tell you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She paid me a few compliments, which no doubt -I deserve. She caught me mimicking her, and I -never saw such a look of malignant hate as crossed -her ugly face.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Had you no faith in her predictions, then?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No; yet I felt almost startled when she described -my mother and my home better than I could have -done. She also told me of some of my flirtations,” -continued Fred, laughingly, while he reddened. -“The old vixen said I would meet my match at no -distant day, and would receive no pity, and deserve -none.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How could she describe your mother and your -home?” said his companion, amused at his discomfiture. -“She had never seen them, had she?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Not that I am aware of, but these strollers have -sources of information unsuspected by honest individuals. -She could not have told me so much of -my life since childhood had not someone given her -the information.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What did she tell the ladies who came with -you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Something that pleased them very much, judging -by their happy looks and smiles. We tried to -persuade them to tell us, but they would only give -us scraps and hints which might have been told any -young lady and not been far wrong.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They are such good-looking people. I imagined -that all gypsies had a wild, degraded look.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“These are the most respectable ones I have seen, -so far as appearances go, especially that one by the -oak tree. They also belong to the illustrious house -of Stanley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred’s laugh arose above the key to which they -had been modulating their voices, and they realized -that it had attracted the attention of the gypsies.</p> -<p class="pnext">The men arose, and tying the horses, stood awhile -looking about them, conversing in a low tone, then -went to the brook, laved hands and face, and went -to supper.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Cousin Hilda,” said Fred, who had been gazing -intently at the horses, “I believe that beautiful -cream-colored one is the very animal that was stolen -from an innkeeper in Springfield about two years -ago.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But there are many cream-colored horses; how -could you be certain that this is the one? Or why -do you imagine it is?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“By the peculiar manner in which she tosses her -head. The one I speak of belonged to a circus -company and had been trained to perform several tricks. -I feel quite sure that this is the animal.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But surely you do not intend hinting anything -of the kind to them?” said Hilda, anxiously.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, but Planchette is perfectly quiet. If you -will hold the lines a moment I will take a circuit -and come up back of the tents, and while the gypsies -are at supper will examine that horse.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But what proof would a closer view give you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“One of the tricks of the circus horse was to -kneel if touched upon a particular spot on his head. -I know that spot and will put it to the test. You -can watch from the carriage and see if I am right.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Cousin Fred, do be careful! Suppose they -should see you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I do not intend them to see me, and will -be back in a moment.” He swung himself lightly -from the carriage and disappeared behind the thick -underbrush.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda gazed anxiously in the direction of the -tents and saw Fred reach the place, keeping at the -same time his attention upon the gypsies.</p> -<p class="pnext">Patting the animal gently, and speaking in a low, -soothing tone, his fingers glided to a spot upon her -forehead. Instantly the intelligent creature knelt -and laid her mouth in the outstretched palm of -Fred. He raised his arm and she arose to her feet; -and convinced that he was not mistaken, Fred went -swiftly behind the tents on the way back to the -carriage.</p> -<p class="pnext">He found Hilda with a blanched face, a look of -terror in her eyes, and seeming almost on the verge -of fainting.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Fred,” she whispered, “the fortune teller -sprang from behind that bush the moment you left, -and I cannot tell you the terrible things she said -to me! She heard all you said and has gone to tell -them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred was no coward, nor was he foolhardy. He -realized the danger they were in, and his cheek grew -as pale as that of his companion.</p> -<p class="pnext">A commotion was visible among the gypsies—loud -talking, curses and threatening looks toward -the carriage, and a general uprising from the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred sprang to his place beside Hilda, took the -reins preparatory to flight, had turned Planchette’s -head toward the road and reached to take the whip -from the socket, when the bridle was grasped by one -of the men.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Halt, liar, and explain, or you shall not leave -this place alive!” cried the gypsy, his black eyes -blazing with fury.</p> -<p class="pnext">For answer Fred brought the lash down upon -his hand with a quick, stinging stroke. The bridle -was released, and Planchette sprang forward just -as a bullet whizzed through the back of the carriage -between the heads of the occupants, and amid -shouts and imprecations from men, women and children, -they cleared the woods, and were in comparative -safety.</p> -<p class="pnext">“This is only loaned,” exclaimed Fred, with -flashing eyes, and face pale from anger and excitement. -“I was single-handed, unarmed, and have -a lady with me. It shall be returned with interest!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Fred,” implored Hilda, almost faint from -terror, “promise me not to molest them! I should -never forgive myself if anything happened to you, -Which would surely be the case if you attacked -them. Promise me!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That horse was stolen, Hilda; they should be -made to return it! They fired upon me, and it is -not through any merit in them that one of us is -not lying dead at this moment. Would you wish -me to leave all these things unpunished?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, for we are the ones at fault. They did -not go to us; we came to them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then you wish me to act the coward’s part by -hiding their theft, and the attempt upon our lives?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, all; all for the sake of your mother. Oh, -to think that the very first evening of my coming -I should be the cause of bringing anxiety and perhaps -anguish upon her! Promise me, Fred, or I -will not return to your house.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You would despise me when you reflected upon -it,” commented the young man moodily. “Were -I to follow your advice I would be of no credit to -you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What credit would it be to you, or to anyone, -to quarrel with gypsies? Supposing you were victorious -and killed one or more of them, what would -it add to your advantage or happiness?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The woman insulted and frightened you. What -man worthy of the name would allow it to go -unpunished?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Words do not kill; I care nothing about them, -and would not have told you only to warn you of -the danger we were in. We were the aggressors.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They should be driven from the neighborhood, -which the authorities cannot do unless complaint -be made against them, and you will not let me make -it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We are unharmed, and have no right to complain -against them when it was our own fault. -They may not have stolen the horse, but bought -it from someone who did, as I am sure if they had -stolen it they would not encamp so near Springfield, -where at any moment the horse is liable to -be recognized.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That looks reasonable,” said Fred, reflectively.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Let us keep it a secret, at least for some time. -I am a girl, but I can keep it to myself.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Agreed!” responded Fred.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Promise that you will not pass the encampment -on your way back to Springfield, will you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, I will go by the way of the Lakes, or the -Pacific, or around by California and the Isthmus -of Panama, if you prefer.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“My mind is at rest now,” said Hilda with an -answering smile. “Thank you, Cousin Fred, I will -go home with you now.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Her mind was at rest so far as concerned the -safety of Fred, but her tried nerves could not recover -their tone for many days. Her sleep was -troubled, and in dreams she saw the wild faces of -the gypsies, heard their shouts and imprecations, -and saw Fred dying at her feet.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xan-offer-of-marriage"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id11">CHAPTER X—AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">One evening nearly a year after the adventure -with the gypsies, Fred came out on the train from -Springfield to pass the night under the homestead -roof, a thrill of boyish delight paying tribute to it, -as always, but more pronounced now that it was the -dwelling place of Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were expecting him, and Mrs. Warfield, -with motherly care, had seen that his favorite dishes -were prepared for the evening meal, and with a glad -light in her beautiful eyes, welcomed him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is Hilda, mother?” he asked, glancing -inquiringly through the open door of the parlor, -after pressing a filial salute upon the yet plump and -rosy cheek.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is in the garden arranging bouquets for -the vases. She expects several of the young people, -from the village to pass the evening here.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hoped she would have no visitors this evening,” -commented Fred, a shadow crossing his handsome -face.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She invited them because she was quite sure -you would be here, and, Fred, I hope you will divide -your attentions among the girls, and not -devote them to one of them, as you have a habit -of doing. You know that you care for no one long -at a time, so why do you give them reason for thinking -you are in earnest?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now, mother, that is cruel!” exclaimed Fred, -reddening, while his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. -“You will blight my prospects if you proclaim -me fickle. I am afraid an earnest girl would -be influenced by your opinion of me, and doubt my -sincerity should I offer my hand and heart.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The idea of a boy making an offer of his hand -and heart!” laughed Mrs. Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Twenty-one next fall, just in time to cast my -first vote! Lots of fellows are settled in life at that -age,” and he gayly left the room in search of Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">He did not follow the straight course, but instead -took a circuitous path to the arbor, where sat -Hilda upon a rustic chair, the table before her covered -with flowers, and all framed in by the vine-covered -arch.</p> -<p class="pnext">Very deftly her fingers were adding sweet to -sweet, apparently unconscious that a pair of handsome -eyes were regarding her with admiration. Her -simple gown of dark blue material fitted her graceful -figure to perfection, and was finished at throat -and wrists with filmy white frills. From the pocket -of her white apron peeped the handles of bright -scissors, and a broad-brimmed sun hat lay on the -bench beside her. Her luxuriant hair was bound by -a narrow crimson ribbon, and a crimson rose upon -her breast cast its warm glow upon her rounded -cheek.</p> -<p class="pnext">This costume was considered by Fred as the most -becoming of any in which he had seen her, yet he -called to mind that he had thought the same of -every toilet in which she appeared, only that the -sunlight flickering through the leaves made the -picture more lovely.</p> -<p class="pnext">An incautious step upon a stick which snapped -under the pressure betrayed his near approach. -Hilda smiled but did not look up.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come in, Cousin Fred,” she said; “don’t be -timid.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How did you know it was Cousin Fred?” he -asked, taking the hand she offered.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I saw you when you left the house. You reminded -me forcibly of the ostrich of school-book -renown.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Will you make a boutonniere for me to wear -this evening?” he asked, laughing, in spite of his -wish to frown.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Certainly! I have just finished one for Cousin -Paul. See the little beauty,” and she took it up and -inhaled its fragrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why do you bother to make one for Paul?” he -asked, his smile becoming less pronounced. “You -know he is engaged.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Because, like yourself, he is, by courtesy, my -cousin.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Miss Lura De Cormis is the one to make -bouquets for him, leaving you at liberty to make -them for me, as I am not fortunate enough to claim -a lady-love.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Were Paul in Philadelphia or Miss Lura here, -I am sure there would be no need for me to make -a boutonniere for him; but she has gone to purchase -her trousseau. Had you forgotten that, Cousin -Fred?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I should say not, when I am to be best man, -and you Miss Lura’s bridesmaid.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I would like more foliage for this large bouquet. -Will you please get it for me?” and she gave -him the scissors.</p> -<p class="pnext">He obeyed her with a lingering glance upon the -fair face bending over the flowers, and a resolve to -tell her what was in his heart, for “out of the abundance -of the heart the mouth speaketh,” and it came -as natural for Fred Warfield to speak of love to a -pretty girl as it is for a broker to discuss the rise -and fall of stocks, or an artist the lights and shades -of a new study. In truth, it was his chief amusement, -and practice had made him perfect.</p> -<p class="pnext">Just now, however, he was ill at ease, and in his -own eyes awkward and uncouth as, leaning against -the door frame of the arbor, he watched Hilda’s active -fingers add the foliage to the artistically arranged -bouquet.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are very beautiful, cousin,” he said almost -involuntarily.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know it,” she replied serenely, without glancing -in his direction.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred gazed upon her in undisguised astonishment.</p> -<p class="pnext">“This is not new to you; you have been told so -by others,” he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">“By admiring glances and appreciative smiles, -never in words.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you consider it good form, Cousin Hilda, -to express your opinion of your own beauty?” -he inquired of her, with commendable hesitation.</p> -<p class="pnext">“If you remember, cousin, it was not I who expressed -the opinion; I only agreed with yours,” and -she gave minute attention to the placing of colors -in the second bouquet.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes,” he responded uneasily, “but suppose someone -else should tell you; some stranger, for instance. -It would not be good form to agree with a stranger’s -opinion.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, cousin; you are very thoughtful, -and I mean it for your comfort when I suggest that -a stranger will not be at all likely to comment upon -my beauty in my presence. That bridge is so far -out of my latitude there is not the least danger -of my having to cross it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are so indifferent to me and my opinions. -Cousin Hilda! You keep me quite out of spirits.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do not wish that; instead, I hope to see you in -your very best spirits this evening, and willing to -charm us with your choicest pieces on piano and -mandolin. I wish I were the accomplished musician -you are. You cast me in the shade.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You will soon surpass me. Professor Ballini -remarked the last time that he went back to Springfield -in the train with me that ‘Meesh Heelda haf ze -exqueesite taalent for ze moozique; she is one woondare.’”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred was a good mimic. Hilda laughed heartily -at the expression of face and tone of voice assumed -for the occasion.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Fred, I hope I won’t think of you when I -take my next lesson!” she said, wiping away tears -of mirth with her handkerchief.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You never wish to think of me; I am only -Cousin Fred to you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes, I do think of you, and am grateful for -it is you who merit the praise for any progress I -have made in music. You gave me such thorough -instruction in the rudiments that my progress could -not fail in pleasing Signor Ballini. You have been -very kind to me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then why not show a little interest in me? You -know that I care for no one but you!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Fred, I should, instead, try not to have interest -in you, except as a cousin!” replied the girl, -flushing deeply as she bowed her head over her -work.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Why should you try? We are suited to each -other in age, position and disposition!” was his -quick reply.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Not in disposition; you have not my quick temper.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Temper, Cousin Hilda!” ejaculated Fred in -surprise. “We have never seen the least evidence of -it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Because there has been no occasion; and, moreover, -I have been taught to control it. Dear Aunt -Merryman saw many an evidence of it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But we are wandering from the subject in hand. -Have you forgotten that I asked you to care for -me, and told you that I cared for no one but you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, I have not forgotten, but you have said the -same to so many girls that I do not put much confidence -in it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Now, cousin, that is too cruel, and I know who -told you. It was Celeste Prettyman.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Have you been flirting with her, too, Cousin -Fred? She thinks you very handsome, and wonders -that you are so much handsomer than Paul, when -the same description answers for both.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I suppose she compares me with her brother -Jack. It is a pity that he is such a burlesque upon -his own name. I take it for granted that he will be -as awkward as ever this evening and will break his -goblet and upset his chair before he leaves.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, one cannot help noticing his awkwardness,” -said Hilda, laughing in spite of herself; “but I think -it is caused by embarrassment, and he has so many -good traits that one can easily overlook such small -defects.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You seem to be well posted as to his good qualities. -Please inform me of what they consist,” remarked -Fred dryly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In kindness to his mother and sister; in his genuine -goodness, earnestness and stability; there is -nothing trifling in his manner; one may be sure that -he means what he says, and can depend fully upon -him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You appear to have made quite a study of our -friend Jack,” commented Fred, flushing uneasily. -“I scarcely thought that one year’s acquaintance -could make one so thoroughly competent to judge.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I have the opinion of others; everyone -speaks well of Jack Prettyman.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Have you more than a friendly interest in him?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Not at all; I never thought of such a thing; but -am only saying what is my real opinion of him. He -is your friend; you should be glad to know that he -is appreciated.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“So I am in a certain sense, but if I tell the truth -I must say that he is awkward and uncouth.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is owing to his having so little confidence -in himself. He hasn’t a particle of conceit. Conceited -people are so comfortable that they can afford -to be agreeable. It really appears to be a desirable -thing to have a good opinion of one’s self. Don’t -you realize this?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you speak from experience?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and from observation.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Conceit would be too ridiculous in Jack Prettyman -with his red head and pug nose.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But he is very entertaining. The last time he -took me out driving he taught me the language of -flowers.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did not know that you go out driving with -him,” responded Fred, his face flushing and his -eyes shadowed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Neither did I know that it was expected of me -to inform you. Aunt Sarah sanctioned it and I -supposed that sufficient.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is cruel in you to take that tone with me. -Oh, Hilda, I feel so uncertain of you! You never -appear to believe me in earnest. Promise that you -will not go driving with anyone but me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Wouldn’t you think it selfish if I asked the -same of you?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, indeed; I promise gladly. Do you agree to -it?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I don’t care. Aunt Sarah and I drive out -as often as I wish to go.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then you only agree because you sacrifice nothing. -Hilda, why are you so cold, so indifferent to -me? You keep me always anxious. Promise me—” -taking her reluctant hand in his, “promise to be -my wife!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Fred, what is the use of promising? You -will change your mind as soon as you see a new -face.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Promise! I will not let go your hand until you -do!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The tea-bell is about to ring. I heard Angie -take it from the sideboard.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then promise!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will,” the hand was pressed, then released, and -Hilda gathered up the bouquets.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Here is yours, Cousin Fred,” she said, holding -the boutonniere toward him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I had forgotten it,” he said, candidly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You will notice that I have arranged them according -to their language. See, here is a sprig of -arbor-vitæ:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">“‘The true and only friend is he,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Who, like the arbor-vitæ tree,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Will bear our image in his heart.’</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">“With it I have placed</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">“‘The generous geranium</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">With a leaf for all who come.’</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">“Then a spray of myrtle:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">“‘Myrtle placed on breast or brow,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Lively hope and friendship vow.’</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line">“Then two pansies:</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">“‘Pray you love, remember.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">There’s pansies, that’s for thought.’”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Fred placed the boutonniere without comment in -the button-hole of his coat, and they went up the -broad path to the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield read in Fred’s happy face and in -the bloom upon the fair cheek of Hilda that which -she had hoped for was in the way of being realized, -but gave no evidence of it by word or manner—she -would wait until the young people saw their own -time to tell her of the agreement into which they -had entered.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred was at his best that evening in the way of -entertaining their guests, and Mrs. Warfield smiled -at the dignity of his demeanor, bespeaking as it did -the engaged young man, while Hilda comported -herself as if engagements of marriage had ceased to -be a novelty.</p> -<p class="pnext">The luckless Jack Prettyman succeeded in passing -one evening without upsetting his chair or breaking -his goblet, and to all it was an enjoyable evening.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next morning Fred arose earlier than usual -and descended to the garden, which was dewy and -fragrant, and wended his way to the arbor. Birds -were twittering in the trees overhead, and colonies -of ants dotted with their hills the ground at his -feet. Innumerable filmy webs festooned the evergreen -borders and flowering shrubs, which, jeweled -with dewdrops, sparkled in the beams of the sun.</p> -<p class="pnext">Happy as Fred had been in all his favored life, -he had never been so happy as that morning. Owing -to the relations existing between them, he fully -expected that Hilda would give him a few minutes -of her society before he left for Springfield. But -anxiously as he looked toward the house, he saw -no evidence of her coming. Instead, Angie rang -the bell and he went in to his breakfast, and found -Hilda quietly reading by the window which commanded -a view of the arbor.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She could not have helped seeing me,” thought -Fred; “she might have come out for a few words!”</p> -<p class="pnext">It had always been his custom to leave for Springfield -as soon as breakfast was finished, and he -had no excuse for waiting that morning. Moreover, -Paul, his mother and Hilda lingered, as usual, -to say good-bye before separating for the duties of -the day.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I may not let two weeks elapse before coming -home next time, mother,” he said, as he kissed -her at parting.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come whenever it suits you, my son; your homecoming -is always a joy to us.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Coke and Blackstone gave precedence to Hilda -Brinsfield in Fred’s mind for several days after his -visit home, and with chair tilted back, feet elevated -and eyes closed, he recalled the conversation in the -arbor, while alone in the office of Mr. Meade, attorney-at-law.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Meade noticed the abstraction and surmised -the cause, but was not disturbed in the least, satisfied -that in Fred’s case the malady was not incurable.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xihildas-letters-to-her-old-home"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id12">CHAPTER XI—HILDA’S LETTERS TO HER OLD HOME</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Hilda, in the meantime, was pursuing the even -tenor of her way. Her church and Sabbath school -duties were faithfully performed; she went daily to -the Woodmont high school, enjoyed her music and -art lessons, and took interest in the minor employments -of the home which would have naturally devolved -upon a daughter of the house. Always busy, -cheerful, amiable and affectionate, she endeared -herself more and more to the motherly heart of Mrs. -Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">Paul had taken upon himself the charge of the -farm, thus relieving his mother of all care, and Ben -Duvall, his efficient foreman and all-around helper, -was living happily with his wife and children in -their little home in the village, walking out to the -Warfield farm in the morning and back in the evening, -satisfied with the world and all it contained.</p> -<p class="pnext">One morning a few weeks after Hilda’s engagement -to Fred, she set out for a walk to the village, -having several little commissions on hand, among -them to call upon Mrs. Duvall with a message from -Mrs. Warfield. Her heart was buoyant with the -thought of the festivities that were to follow Paul’s -wedding, now near at hand, and her frequent meetings -with the young people of the neighborhood in -consequence. Her gown was being made by -the village dressmaker and her first call was there, -and all being satisfactory, she passed on to the neat -home of Mrs. Duvall.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Something told me that you would be here to-day, -Miss Hilda,” said Susie cordially, as she opened -the door; “the chickens keep crowing and a little -black spider came down from the ceiling, which is -a sure sign of a visitor, and I said to myself, ‘That -is Miss Hilda.’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am very glad you thought of me, Mrs. Duvall,” -smiled Hilda, amused at the superstition, as -she took the proffered seat. “Here is a package of -cake Aunt Sarah sent to the children, and she told -me to ask if it would be convenient for you to -come three days of next week to help Angie. You -know that Cousin Paul is to be married on Tuesday, -and on Thursday evening we are to have a reception, -and hope you can come on Tuesday morning.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nothing but sickness will prevent me, Miss -Hilda,” said Susie, warmly; “Mrs. Warfield has always -been a kind friend to me and I love the two -boys as if they were my own. You know I lived -with Mrs. Warfield for years, and the farmhouse -was a real home to me, and she was always good -and kind to me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and aunt said she could always count upon -you, and is quite sure you will come and help.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wish she could always count so surely upon -that wife Paul is getting. I am fearful of it, Miss -Hilda. Lura De Cormis has a temper, and what -is more, she doesn’t try to curb it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is an only child,” remarked Hilda, “and -her mother died while she was very young and I -suppose her father indulged her too much.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well, I reckon he thought he ought to put up -with her bad temper, knowing that she got it from -him. People that know him say that his high temper -has been a terrible trial and cross to him, and he -has grieved so much over it and over his unforgiving -nature that he has bettered himself in both ways, -as a minister ought to, if he expects to be an example -for the people who hear him preach.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do hope for Aunt Sarah’s sake that Lura will -try to improve her temper; they are, as you know, -to live together.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and Miss Lura will be boss. Mrs. Warfield -will have to give the right of way to her, if I -know anything about Miss Lura De Cormis. It -makes me sorry to think of it, for a sweeter, nobler -Christian woman does not live than Mrs. Warfield, -and everybody that knows her loves her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“People in Springfield who knew her and her -sister Janette when they were young said they were -rich orphan girls, and that they and their brother -Herbert lost nearly all through the failure of people -who had their money in trust, but that did not spoil -their sweet dispositions. Just think how Mrs. Warfield -struggled along and kept that farm for the -boys, and with it her generous nature that oppresses -nobody but helps everybody along! I do -wish that Miss Lura had her sweet, kind disposition,” -she concluded.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Have you had any evidence of her temper, Mrs. -Duvall?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Indeed I have! The last Sabbath school celebration -we had, she had charge of one of the dinner -tables, and my Johnny broke a tea cup. She was -so angry at his carelessness, as she called it, that -she shook him, and her black eyes fairly blazed. She -made him pick up every scrap on a newspaper. She -said that if I would make him behave himself at -home, he would do so when out in company.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda had heard the subject of Miss Lura’s temper -discussed, but not so freely as by Susie, and -knew that what she said was entirely correct. In -her own mind she believed that no one could resemble -Jerusha Flint so closely without partaking of -her nature. “I do hope that Cousin Paul has made -a good choice,” she said sadly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope that both boys will make good choices. -Folks say that Fred has a notion of getting married, too.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do they?” asked Hilda, her face flushing.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, to a girl in Springfield,” continued Mrs. -Duvall, not noticing her visitor’s embarrassment. -“She is a great friend of Miss Lura’s and of course -will be at the wedding and you will have a chance to -see her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I never heard that Cousin Fred was waiting -upon anyone in Springfield,” said Hilda faintly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, I reckon not. Fred Warfield waits upon -so many girls it is hard to keep track of him. It -was about a month ago that I heard it, so most -likely he has dropped the Springfield girl and is in -love with another. He always had a sweetheart, -sometimes one, and sometimes another, ever since -I first knew him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda breathed more freely. It had been a fort-night -since Fred had engaged himself to her, and -Mrs. Duvall evidently knew nothing of his attachment. -Fred had told her of the girl in Springfield -that last time he was at home, and in his happy-go-lucky -manner had made merry over the flirtation -between them, at which Mrs. Warfield had reproved -him while she vainly tried to conceal her amusement -at his travesty of the affair.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That Fred Warfield was always the best-natured -fellow that ever lived,” resumed Mrs. Duvall. -“Paul would get mad sometimes, but Fred you -couldn’t make mad no matter what happened. He -just made merry over everything and was the kindest, -tenderest-hearted boy that ever lived, and -wouldn’t hurt the feelings of a fly.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I must go now, Mrs. Duvall,” said Hilda, rising. -“Aunt Sarah will be glad to know that you -can come. I have to call at Uncle Herbert’s store -for spices and other things, and will ask him to -send them here for Mr. Duvall to bring out in the -morning if convenient for him to do so.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Certainly, Miss Hilda! Nothing pleases him -better than to oblige Mrs. Warfield or any of the -family. I will be sure to come early, and please -tell Mrs. Warfield that I can stay as long as she -needs me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“She will be glad to know that, and Aunt Sarah -requests you not to walk to the farmhouse, for I -am to drive to the dressmaker’s in the village on -Tuesday morning for my gown and will take you -home with me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“What kind of a gown are you having made, -Miss Hilda, if I may be so bold as to ask?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“A white silk, and the bride’s is white satin. It -was made in Philadelphia and is very elegant.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“They can well afford to have fine clothes for -Miss Lura,” commented Mrs. Duvall. “People who -know them in Springfield say that Mr. De Cormis -got a fortune from France, where his grandfather -came from. He needn’t preach if he don’t want to, -but he likes to live in the country, and wants only -a small church, so has here what suits him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It would interest you to go to the church on -Tuesday evening and see them married, Mrs. Duvall?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It certainly would, and I’ll go. A cat can look -at a queen, I reckon, whether the queen looks at -her or not.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda laughed, and then nodding good-morning -to Mrs. Duvall, drove to the store, made her purchases -and went home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Tuesday evening came, the church was filled to -overflowing, and Rev. Horace De Cormis gave his -daughter to the one above all others whom he would -have selected had he done the choosing.</p> -<p class="pnext">Beautiful as was Hilda at all times, she never -looked more lovely than upon that occasion, and -Mrs. Duvall was not the only one whose gaze wandered -to the handsome attendants, who expected -to be only secondary objects of interest.</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening reception at the parsonage was followed -by that given by Mrs. Warfield, and this in -turn by friends of the bride among her father’s congregation. -The quiet neighborhood had never -known such a festive time.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred was always mentioned as Hilda’s escort to -these festivities and was an attentive and courtly -cavalier. Hilda’s confidence in him became firmly -established and confidence became esteem, which -she mistook for love.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lura Warfield remained several weeks at -the parsonage, then became one of the home circle -of the Warfield farmhouse. Yet her taking up her -abode in a new home did not prevent her from keeping -her place as head of her father’s household. She -attended to his wardrobe, visited the poor and ailing -of his congregation, purchased the supplies, answered -his letters, and in every way in her power -kept him from realizing the loss he had sustained in -her marriage and her removal to another home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lura was a good, dutiful daughter, and -there was scarcely a day passed that she was not -engaged upon some work for him, and Hilda was -glad that there was something to interest her outside -the farmhouse. Sometimes by invitation she -accompanied her, driving Planchette to Mrs. Lura’s -phaeton, and could not help admiring the executive -ability of the brilliant little woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">Although she had seen but little exhibition of a -Jerusha Flint temper, Hilda never gave up the -conviction that it was there, only waiting occasion -to be called forth. Many traits which she remembered -as being possessed by the adversary of her -childhood were noticeable in this fair and refined-looking -prototype.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Paul Warfield resembled Jerusha Flint in -her untiring industry and her methodical habits, -her uncompromising neatness, her ability, her -satirical opinion of anything that failed to agree -with her ideas and her extreme selfishness. She had -a much better education than had Jerusha and her -environment had been of the best, but the texture of -her mind was no finer; she was cold, calculating and -heartless. In short, Mrs. Lura was so much like the -one with whom part of her childhood had passed -that, try as she might, Hilda could not persuade herself -to love her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Happy as was the young girl in her Ohio home, -and tenderly kind as were Mrs. Warfield and her -sons to her, she did not forget her Dorton friends. -She looked eagerly for letters from them, and the -most trifling incidents which interested her Maryland -acquaintances were full of interest to her, and -knowing this, Mrs. Merryman let nothing which -came to her notice pass unmentioned.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was informed of Erma attending school -in Baltimore, staying five days out of the week -with her grandparents there, of Norah’s faithfulness, -and Perry’s improvement in all branches of -farm work, of everything in fact that would keep -up Hilda’s interest and affection for those who -loved her and held her in remembrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the rule from the beginning that after -the Merryman household had read Hilda’s letters, -they were passed on to “Friedenheim,” for the -Courtneys had always evinced much interest in her, -and she had made no restrictions in regard to her -letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Mrs. Courtney had read them aloud to her -family they were sent the same evening by Mose -to “My Lady’s Manor,” and in this way Mr. Valentine -Courtney was kept in touch with Hilda’s -everyday life.</p> -<p class="pnext">When she left Dorton “My Lady’s Manor” lost -its charm for him. He missed the gentle girl more -than he had ever before missed a human being, and -felt that life was scarcely worth living when she -was not there to brighten it.</p> -<p class="pnext">He tried to arouse himself from what he considered -unmanly weakness, but without avail. He -went from his home each morning disconsolate, and -returned to it despairing. Had it not been for the -efficient management of Mrs. Flynn within doors -and Sandy MacQuoid without, home life would have -been at low ebb. But these faithful servitors, without -appearing to notice the changed manner of -their once cheerful employer, attended to their allotted -duties, enjoyed each other’s society, fed the -terrier and the parrot, entertained the Courtney -boys and Ralph and James Rivers, and Norah and -Archie, to the best of their ability, when they gave -“My Lady’s Manor” the pleasure of their company.</p> -<p class="pnext">The first gleam of comfort which Mr. Courtney -received lay in the knowledge of Paul Warfield’s -engagement. Each succeeding letter of Hilda’s -spoke of Fred, dwelt much upon him, but for -months it did not occur to Mr. Courtney to fear -a rival in him. Hilda was so unrestrained in speaking -of him, even making merry over his love affairs, -more as an older sister would jest of a young -brother or some other jolly companion than a maiden -of a lover. Then came a time when Fred’s name -dropped from her letters, and a grave maturity -came into them, unnoticed by any reader save Mr. -Courtney; and then it dawned upon him that he -had indeed a rival. His heart ached with its burden -of unrest; his home had grown into a prison; -he felt that he must leave it and seek change from -the thoughts which oppressed him; he resolved to -close “My Lady’s Manor” and pass at least a year -in travel. Ralph and James Rivers could attend to -the law business, and if it suffered financial loss in -their hands it was of but little moment to one of -Mr. Courtney’s wealth and disposition.</p> -<p class="pnext">One evening after coming to this decision, he sat -alone in his library. It was cool for the season and -Chloe had made a glowing fire upon the hearth before -which he sat, lost in thought.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rich curtains hung in heavy folds over the windows, -the glow of an astral lamp on the table beside -him gave light for reading, but books had lost their -charm. Pictures with sunny Italian skies, of Alpine -peaks, of arctic snows, of fair English landscapes, -lined the walls. Comfort and beauty was -on every hand, but they brought him no happiness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Chloe came with a letter upon a silver waiter, -presented it and quietly withdrew. And Mr. Courtney, -with a presentiment of further unrest in store -for him, opened it and read to the end. It was -from Hilda to Mrs. Merryman, and as Mr. Courtney -finished it he contrasted his feelings with those -of light-headed, light-hearted Mose, who had -brought it, and whose boyish laughter was heard -from the kitchen where he was recounting to Chloe -some of the adventures in which he was, as usual, -the hero.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was no mention of Fred throughout the -letter, but a postscript was added which thrilled his -heart with pain.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dear Aunt Grace,” it said, “I feel that it would -not be right not to tell you, my dear second mother, -that Cousin Fred has asked me to be his wife and I -have accepted him. Aunt Sarah says it is what she -has hoped for, and in this way Aunt Ashley’s -prayer will be answered.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney knew the trial it had been to Hilda -to write this. He was glad at the prospect of happiness -for her in her future home, but he groaned -in spirit at the thought of his own loneliness. How -was he to pass the years of life allotted to him? -After a time he rang the bell and Sandy appeared.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wish to have a few minutes conversation with -you, Sandy,” he said, as his stately Scotch servitor -stood respectfully beside his chair. “Take a seat.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandy obeyed, his well-trained countenance showing -no surprise.</p> -<p class="pnext">“When I employed you,” said Mr. Courtney, “I -did not foresee that I would wish to leave ‘My -Lady’s Manor.’ Circumstances have made it necessary -that I should seek change. I have sent for -you to tell you this, and to express my hope that this -sudden resolve may not inconvenience you. I shall -advance you three months’ salary for any disappointment -it may be to you, and will do the same by -Mrs. Flynn when I speak to her, which will be this -evening. Chloe can go back to her old home at -‘Friedenheim.’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Excuse me, sir, for asking, but do you expect -to return here sometime?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I may, Sandy; I cannot say.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do not wish to pry into your affairs, sir, but -do you intend renting this place?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, it will be closed for the time I am absent.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You have encouraged me, sir, to make free to -tell you my plan,” said Sandy, gravely. “Perhaps -you will do us a greater favor than to advance three -months’ salary.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Us?” echoed Mr. Courtney, looking up in surprise.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir; Mrs. Flynn and myself are intending -to marry.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney smiled almost cheerfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is news indeed, Sandy, and very agreeable -news,” he said. “She will make you a good -wife.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And she will have a good husband,” responded -Sandy.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are right. What do you propose as to -housekeeping?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am not sure as yet, sir. We had intended, if -you were willing, to remain here with you in the -same positions we now occupy. We know that we -could find no better home than this. Now that you -are going away, no coachman or housekeeper will -be needed by you, but perhaps you will let us stay -and take care of ‘My Lady’s Manor’ while you are -away.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will be more than willing; it will relieve me of -a great care,” replied Mr. Courtney cordially.</p> -<p class="pnext">“If there is nothing in Dorton for me to do, I -can, I think, get some employment in the neighborhood,” -continued Sandy, reflectively.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am not anxious to dispose of the horses, -Sandy. If you can get any employment in which -you can make use of them, you are more than welcome -to them until my return.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, sir! I am sure I can, and am more -grateful than I can say for your kindness.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It will not be necessary now for me to speak to -Mrs. Flynn. You have taken that out of my -hands,” smiled Mr. Courtney. “I wish you every -happiness in your married life.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, sir, we will try to deserve it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The next evening in the presence of the Courtneys, -Mrs. Merryman, the delighted Norah, and a -few of the villagers, the Rev. Carl Courtney performed -the ceremony which made Mrs. Flynn Mrs. -Sandy MacQuoid, much to the astonishment of Roy -and Cecil, who had never suspected any love-making -between the dignified Mrs. Flynn and the more -dignified Sandy.</p> -<p class="pnext">As nothing remained to prevent, the following -week saw Mr. Valentine Courtney upon the Atlantic, -bound for he knew not and cared not where.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiijerusha-flint-and-hilda"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id13">CHAPTER XII—JERUSHA FLINT AND HILDA</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">One favor stipulated by Fred, after his engagement -to Hilda, was that she should answer his letters -promptly when anything prevented his weekly -visit to the farmhouse, and she promised.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the commencement of this correspondence -Fred ignored the title “cousin” in inditing and ending -his epistles, and substituted “My Dearest Hilda,” -or “My Beloved Hilda,” as the fancy of the moment -dictated, and signed them “Your Devoted -Fred.” Her answering missives were guided by -his letters, modified, however, by maidenly reserve, -but at his request she ceased to address him as -“cousin.”</p> -<p class="pnext">As the winter wore on, snows and rains and like -excuses were utilized by Fred as preventing his -weekly visits; and after the spring came and merged -into summer he made only fortnightly visits to the -farmhouse, as was his custom before Hilda became -a member of the home circle. His letters, however, -came punctually and gave lively details of the -social festivities in Springfield society. “Dear -Hilda” appeared to be a sufficiently affectionate appellation -in inditing these missives, and before the -autumn came “Cousin Hilda” seemed to satisfy his -surely waning affection.</p> -<p class="pnext">A silent, but none the less attentive observer of -all this was Mrs. Warfield, although she never saw -or asked to see a line of the correspondence. But -after Hilda’s reception of a letter from Fred she -failed to see the glow of pleasure which had illuminated -the sweet face in the early days of the engagement; -instead, a wounded, unsatisfied expression -sat upon the sad lips and tried to hide itself in -the depths of the pensive eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">One morning Hilda received her usual letter -from Mrs. Merryman and one from Fred, brought -from the village post-office by Ben Duvall. She -hurried to her room to read them. Mrs. Warfield, -who had gone to her own room adjoining, heard -her ascend the stairs, enter her room and close the -door, and expected after time was given her to -peruse them to hear her gentle tap upon her door -Mrs. Merryman’s letter in hand to read aloud, as -was her custom. All remained silent for such a -length of time that Mrs. Warfield had almost concluded -that her eyes had deceived her, and Hilda -had not received letters, when she heard her foot-steps -pause at the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Come in, darling, I am here,” she called, and -Hilda came in slowly with Mrs. Merryman’s letter -open in her hand. A bright spot burned on either -cheek, but it was evidently not caused by pleasure. -There was a look of having shed tears, and when -she took a low chair near Mrs. Warfield and read -the letter her voice trembled, although she made -an effort to steady it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Merryman’s letter was long and interesting. -Her former letters had informed Hilda of the absence -of Mr. Valentine Courtney. This one mentioned -the place of his sojourn in the old world as -heard through Mrs. Courtney. It gave details of -all the little happenings in Dorton and in its neighborhood, -and of affairs at “My Lady’s Manor” under -the management of Mrs. MacQuoid, as reported -by Norah, and closed with the intelligence of the -illness of Jerusha Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield listened attentively to the letter -from beginning to end, and thanked Hilda for giving -her the pleasure of hearing it; at the same time -she heard nothing to warrant the subdued excitement -of the reader.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was quite sure that it was not the illness of -Miss Flint or Hilda would have made allusion to it. -Moreover, her manner appeared to take more of anger -than grief, and Mrs. Warfield felt assured in -consequence that a letter had been received from -Fred, and it was responsible for that anger.</p> -<p class="pnext">As soon as Hilda finished she arose and returned -to her own room.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Aunt Sarah,” she said a few minutes later, “do -you wish anything from the village? I am going -to the post-office.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, dear, I do not know of anything needed.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda went to her room to put on her wraps, and -Mrs. Warfield, after a moment’s reflection, laid -aside her sewing and followed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My dear,” she said, as Hilda opened the door -for her, “if you are writing to Fred, I hope you -will be careful what you write. He is very careless -of his letters, and other eyes may see what you -only intend for his. I do not seek to question into -what should perhaps not concern me, but you appear -a little different from your usual manner and -I only wish to warn you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The color left the face of the girl for a moment, -and she leaned against her dressing-table for support.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You are his mother,” she said with tear-dimmed -eyes. “Read what he says.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope, my child, that you have not asked me -to do this unless you are desirous that I should read -it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I did not even imagine, five minutes ago, that -I could ever allow anyone to see it; now I wish -you to read it,” and tears rolled down the pale -cheeks.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield opened the sheet and glanced over -the words:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst">“My Poor Little Hilda:</p> -<p class="pnext">“No one could have convinced me half a year ago -that I would address you, whom I then loved, to -tell you that my feelings in regard to you have undergone -a change. I am heartily ashamed of myself -to have to acknowledge this, and no doubt you -will be disappointed in me. Perhaps if I could have -seen you oftener it might have been different. If -I could know what my future sentiments toward -you will be I would gladly tell you. I hope you -will care a little because of this, but I do not wish -you to grieve too much.</p> -<p class="pnext right">“Your Cousin Fred.”</p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">The flush which had arisen to the cheek of Hilda -was eclipsed by the glow that spread over the face -of Mrs. Warfield. She gave the letter back without -a word, her eyes refusing to meet those of the -girl standing before her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Will you read my answer?” asked Hilda, taking -it from the envelope not yet sealed.</p> -<p class="pnext">“If you wish it, my love.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I would rather have you know the whole -story.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Warfield’s face brightened into a smile as -she read:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst">“Dear Cousin Fred:</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yours received and I reply merely to advise you -not to distress yourself fearing I will grieve. Why -should I be disappointed in you, when it is exactly -as I expected? I was favored with the experience -of other girls, and as you will remember -was not willing to engage myself to you, knowing -your fickleness; but after you remained faithful a -few weeks I was foolish enough to believe you in -earnest, and for this I am heartily ashamed. I shall -be in no danger of committing again the folly of -believing it, so you need not trouble yourself to -tell me ‘your future sentiments.’</p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst right">“Your Cousin Hilda.”</p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Mrs. Warfield arose upon finishing the letter, and -taking Hilda in her arms pressed a kiss upon the -trembling lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I feared you would not be willing to have me -send it,” faltered Hilda, as tears for the sympathy -received filled her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, send it, by all means, and the earlier the -better. It will do Fred good to find that one girl, -at least, is not so much in love with him as to withhold -resentment for his unmanly fickleness.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda put the letter in the envelope, sealed it and -went out, and Mrs. Warfield returned to her room -and took up her sewing.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Without intending it, she has taken the very best -way to retain him,” she communed with herself. -“She is a noble girl. Fred will rue this.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Bravely as Hilda had borne the trial, try as she -might to conceal her wounded feelings, Mrs. Warfield, -apparently unobservant, knew as time passed -on that the reaction was harder to bear than the -first knowledge of Fred’s inconstancy.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda had watched for his coming, the correspondence -had been a stimulus in her uneventful life -at the farmhouse, and when it ceased, in spite of her -good sense and excellent judgment for one so young, -she felt desolate and unsettled. She dreaded Fred’s -next visit home. How could she meet him under -these changed circumstances? What could she say -to him, or he to her, under the piercing, satirical -gaze of Mrs. Paul Warfield? And Mrs. Merryman—what -would she think of it, she who was so glad -to know that Hilda had such kind and loving -friends in her new home?</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a bitter trial to tell her, but Hilda’s conscience -would not allow her to leave that faithful -friend in ignorance of how matters stood, and in -the postscript to her next letter she said: “Dear -Aunt Grace, the engagement between Cousin Fred -and myself is broken.”</p> -<p class="pnext">That was all; she could not tell her now the cause, -and was very sure that Mrs. Merryman would never -ask.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda was sincere in saying that she would not -grieve. She read, she studied, practiced the most -difficult of the pieces given her by Professor Ballini, -and in other ways kept herself constantly employed; -and Mrs. Warfield’s motherly heart yearned toward -her as if she were indeed her own loved daughter.</p> -<p class="pnext">After a time Fred’s letter set Hilda to analyzing -the real state of her feelings toward him. She -loved him because, like the others of his family, he -had been so kind to her. He was one of the best -of sons, one of the most affectionate of brothers. -She doubted if any girl could have helped becoming -attached to one so handsome and attractive, if placed -in his companionship as she had been.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet she realized that the affection she had cherished -for him was unlike that which she had thought -a woman’s should be for the one who was to fill the -place of protector and life-long companion; different, -as she now discovered, from the affection she -entertained for Mr. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yes, like a revelation it came to her in the quietude -of her room that the feeling with which she -regarded him was different from that felt for any -other human being. She remembered his manly -steadiness and strength of character; his protecting -care of her and of everything feebler than himself; -the repose and peace and contentment she always -felt in his society. She remembered the last evening -she passed at “My Lady’s Manor,” and tears -filled her eyes as she thought of the loneliness that -reigned in the beloved library, now that he was far -away.</p> -<p class="pnext">She took the miniature portrait of Mr. Courtney -from its velvet case and looked long and earnestly -at it.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He has not a superior,” she said to herself; “he -is noble and true and I love him and only him, -though he may never think of me or see me again.”</p> -<p class="pnext">That afternoon Mrs. Lura invited Hilda to make -parochial calls with her, after which she intended -stopping at Uncle Herbert’s store in the village to -purchase material for her embroidery. She was -proficient in all kinds of fancy work, and just at -that time was exercised over the completion of a -sofa pillow for a birthday gift for her father.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the fancy line Uncle Herbert’s stock was far -from extensive at any time, and at that particular -epoch was poor indeed, and Mrs. Lura was unable -to obtain any of the shades of silk desired. Consequently -she lost her temper and sharply reminded -him that he ought to keep a store where customers -could get at least a third of the articles called for, -or give it up that a more enterprising man might -take his place.</p> -<p class="pnext">Uncle Herbert laughed good-naturedly at this -candid opinion, accompanied by a frown upon the -fair brow and the flashing of brilliant black eyes, -and informed her that he intended going to Philadelphia -on the early morning train to purchase his -half yearly supply of merchandise, and would be -happy to get anything she needed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Equanimity restored, Mrs. Lura made out a list -which Uncle Herbert put carefully in his memorandum -book, searchingly watched by Mrs. Lura, -accompanied by the injunction not to forget until -she came for the silks that it was there.</p> -<p class="pnext">The errands all completed, they drove back to the -farmhouse, at the entrance of which Mrs. Warfield -met them, more disturbed than they had ever seen -her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My love,” she said taking Hilda’s hand, “a -telegram has just come from Dorton. Jerusha Flint -is very ill; they think she cannot live, and she says -she must see you, and you cannot go alone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Uncle Herbert is going to Philadelphia in the -morning,” said Mrs. Lura promptly. “Hilda can -go with him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is an excellent opportunity,” exclaimed -Mrs. Warfield. “I will send immediately to the -village and tell him that Hilda will meet him at -the station in good time.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Planchette and the carriage are yet at the gate,” -said Mrs. Lura, glancing through the window. “I -will drive back and tell Uncle Herbert, although I -wonder that Hilda is willing to trouble herself to -visit one who treated her so unkindly as did Miss -Flint. I should not go near her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I grieve to have Hilda leave us, but it is a duty. -Miss Flint must have some important reason for -wishing to see her. She has possession of the few -articles of furniture which were my sister’s, and she -may wish to see her in regard to them; or she may -wish to ask forgiveness for her cruelty. Be the -reason what it may, she must have her wish granted, -if possible.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda passed the evening packing her trunk, and -although she reproached herself that she could be -glad to go from friends who were so tenderly kind, -and her conscience troubled her that she could not -be more sorry for the cause that was calling her -back to Dorton, in spite of her reasoning she could -not help rejoicing over the prospective visit.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will see dear Aunt Merryman and all my Dorton -friends,” she said to herself with an exultant -throb of her heart. “Besides, I shall miss seeing -Cousin Fred.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The next morning Mrs. Lura, who had another -commission for Uncle Herbert, took Hilda to the -Woodmont station, where he had not arrived, much -to her displeasure, for it was nearing train time and -she prophesied that with his usual want of punctuality -he would be left.</p> -<p class="pnext">Just as she arrived at the stage of impatience as -to be upon the point of driving to the village for -him and giving him a piece of her mind, he came -in sight, walking at his usual leisurely, dignified -pace, and in a few minutes they were off and Mrs. -Lura went home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Uncle Herbert was a genial traveling companion, -and Hilda enjoyed the trip thoroughly. He -accompanied her to the Baltimore depot as soon as -they reached Philadelphia, and saw her on her way. -Mr. Merryman’s carriage met her at Dorton Station -and conveyed her to the cottage of Jerusha -Flint. And thus, without a moment’s delay which -could be avoided, Hilda stood again in one of the -homes of her childhood.</p> -<p class="pnext">Diana Strong was in attendance upon the invalid -and welcomed Hilda warmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“How much you have grown!” she said softly. -“I never would have thought that a person could -improve so much in less than two years; you are -really an elegant young lady.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is she very ill?” asked Hilda in the same tone, -as she laid aside hat and gloves in the little sitting-room.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She is at death’s door. It appears that only her -longing and hope of seeing you have kept her alive. -She has something on her mind that troubles her, -poor creature, and has fretted and worried to see -you, and I had to get Mr. Merryman to telegraph -for you to come.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda,” moaned a feeble voice, “won’t you -come?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am here,” replied the young girl, passing into -the room, and bending over the invalid. “Tell me -what I can do for you, and it shall be done gladly.”</p> -<p class="pnext">And thus the two whose heredity and paths in -life had so contrasted met for the last time upon -earth.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Forgive me, oh, forgive me for my cruelty to -you!” implored the fast failing voice slowly and falteringly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do forgive you, freely and fully, as I hope to -be forgiven.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am almost gone,” whispered Jerusha. “I was -unjust to you as well as cruel. Your Aunt Ashley -left—two letters—for you. I read them—and destroyed—one. -All in the cottage—was—yours,—there -was money—I kept—every penny—of it—safely -for you. It—is with the—letter, and—her -pen—in the—the—”</p> -<p class="pnext">Eagerly as Hilda listened, she heard no more. -Jerusha’s lips were closed in death.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiiihilda-by-the-merryman-fireside"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id14">CHAPTER XIII—HILDA BY THE MERRYMAN FIRESIDE</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Excepting Erma, who was growing into healthy, -attractive young womanhood, Hilda found no -change in the Merryman household.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her room was just as she left it the morning she -and Paul set out for Ohio. She was glad to be -again in it, and was as tenderly welcomed to the -home as if she were a beloved daughter, and -dropped naturally into the place she had once filled.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Courtney had forwarded Hilda’s last letter -to her brother Valentine, and had not expected to -write so soon again; but having called to see Hilda -the evening of her arrival, she could not forbear -writing to him as soon as she reached home telling -him of the unexpected call which had brought the -young girl to Dorton, and speaking warmly of her -beauty and the sweet dignity of her manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">The day following that in which Jerusha Flint -had been placed in her resting place in Dorton -churchyard, Mrs. Merryman went with Hilda to -visit the cottage abandoned by Diana Strong.</p> -<p class="pnext">Following the rule adopted at the commencement -of her occupancy, of renting by the year and paying -in advance, Jerusha Flint, though in her grave, held, -in a manner, possession of the cottage, so all remained -as she had left it until Hilda could consult -with Mrs. Warfield through the medium of letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">With the exception of the desk, and a few small -articles, there was nothing that she cared to keep; -yet as all there was bequeathed to her by Mrs. -Ashley, she did not wish to act unadvisedly.</p> -<p class="pnext">The main object of her visit was to examine the -writing desk in search of the papers and the ruby -inlaid pen of which Jerusha had spoken.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wrote a letter to you with it, but did not send -it, as Mr. Merryman, who called, said a telegram -would be better,” Diana Strong had told her the -day she came. “I laid the pen back in the desk and -while standing at the gate talking to Mr. Merryman -I saw Jerusha rise from her bed, totter the few -steps to the desk, lock it and put the key under the -pillow where we found it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">All searching for the papers was vain, but Hilda -never passed the cottage that she did not examine -the desk, believing there was a secret drawer that -was baffling her search.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her walks to “My Lady’s Manor” were resumed, -to the delight of Mrs. MacQuoid and Chloe, -who made it a rule to have the library warm and -bright when Hilda came.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sometimes she remained only long enough to exchange -books, but they had seen her, she had chatted -with them, had petted the terrier, exchanged -some words with Sandy and left all cheered by the -visit.</p> -<p class="pnext">One afternoon she extended her walk to Dorton -post-office, intending to call at “My Lady’s Manor” -upon her return in order to get a volume which an -adverse and scathing criticism had tempted her to -read.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was expecting a letter from Mrs. Warfield, -and saw that she was not to be disappointed when -the postmaster, with a benevolent smile, commenced -looking over the mail in the Merryman -box.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was one for her, but not addressed in the -feminine script of Mrs. Warfield, but in the bold, -business hand of Fred.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had not remembered that it was the fourteenth -of February, and with trembling fingers -opened it the moment she reached the seclusion of -the library at “My Lady’s Manor.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred’s remorse for his fickleness had found relief -in rhyme, and under the wing of St. Valentine he -poured forth his plaint:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">“Each sound hath an echo, like to like doth incline,</div> -<div class="line">But where is the heart that respondeth to mine?</div> -<div class="line">In sunshine and shade life is lonely and drear,</div> -<div class="line">I call my beloved, but no answer I hear.</div> -<div class="line">I seek my beloved as the dew seeks the flower,</div> -<div class="line">As moonbeams seek stream, meadow, forest and bower.</div> -<div class="line">Oh, sadly I wander o’er woodland and lea,</div> -<div class="line">And muse on the one so far distant from me!</div> -<div class="line">I question my fate, and try to divine</div> -<div class="line">If Hilda, my loved one, will ever be mine.</div> -<div class="line">But all, all is silent; I wander alone;</div> -<div class="line">I hope against hope, for I know she is gone.</div> -<div class="line">She is loved by another, his bride she will be</div> -<div class="line">And all pleasures in life must seem hollow to me.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">His reminiscences had a different effect upon -Hilda from what he intended. They cheered and -warmed her heart, it was true, but not for him. -Kind-hearted and sympathetic as she was, the prospective -hollowness of Fred’s pleasures did not in the -least disturb her serenity. Instead, the last two -lines of his valentine held a prophecy which filled -her heart with sweet content. In the loving arms -of kind Destiny she had been fostered, and she had -faith to believe that she would ever there repose. -Fred’s written words only confirmed what she in -thought was beginning to cherish. She loved Valentine -Courtney, and had the conviction that the -time would come when he would think of her; for -that time she would wait.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was growing twilight, and folding her letter -she left the library, and to her great pleasure saw -Archie sitting by the kitchen hearth, who spoke to -her as he would have done had he seen her every -day.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Got any valentines yet, Miss Hilda?” asked -Chloe. “You must not forgit that you is a valentine -yer own self, that Archie done found in the -snow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Chloe, I can never forget that good Archie -saved my life on St. Valentine’s day,” replied Hilda, -looking kindly upon the wanderer.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie can find no more people in the snow; -he has looked and looked for them,” he said sadly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I suppose it is yourself that gets plenty of valentines, -Miss Hilda,” remarked Mrs. MacQuoid respectfully, -gazing with admiration upon the fair -girl.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Mrs. MacQuoid, there is no prospect of my -getting many,” smiled Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie wishes that he could bring one,” said the -old man. “He would find one in the snow if he -could.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, Archie, I am sure you would bring -me a valentine if you could find one,” and nodding -a cheery good-bye, Hilda ran down the steps of the -porch and in a little while reached “Fair Meadow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Miss Hilda,” said Norah, “Mr. Merryman had -a message from his sister in Baltimore, saying that -relatives from Boston on their way south for the -winter are there to remain over night, and she -would like Mr. and Mrs. Merryman to come there -for supper, and they have gone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Very well, Norah; then you will please bring -in the tea while I run up to my room to lay aside -my wraps.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda had worn a crimson cashmere dress to the -village, a costume very becoming to her fair face; -and, adjusting the soft lace about throat and wrists, -she put on a filmy white apron with a pocket to -accommodate the ball of some fleecy white knitting, -and with it in her hand descended to the tea-room, -which was very bright and cheery in the lamp and -fire-light.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda’s brisk walk in the crisp air had made the -simple meal very enjoyable, and as soon as Norah -had again put the center-table in order, Hilda drew -it closer to the hearth and was soon absorbed in her -book. Nothing disturbed the stillness of the room -save the singing of the hickory wood blazing in the -open grate, or the purring of the kitten upon the -hearth.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the same hour the household of “My Lady’s -Manor” was agreeably surprised at the unexpected -arrival of Mr. Courtney; and his welcome home, so -far as they were concerned, was all that could be -desired.</p> -<p class="pnext">But during his voyage across the Atlantic, and -every reflective moment since, he had pictured a -fair girlish face that he longed to see brighten at -his coming, and had felt the clasp of a dimpled hand -that was dearer to him than all else upon the broad -earth.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope you will not allow my coming to disturb -you, Mrs. MacQuoid,” he said kindly when both -arose from their evening meal at his entrance. -“Do you and Sandy finish your tea; I will chat -with Archie a while and then rest in the library -until it suits you to ring for me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Archie had been asleep in his chair, but awoke -at the sound of Mr. Courtney’s voice and looked -up at the handsome, kind face with an appreciative -smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie is glad you are home; he has often -been here, but could not see you,” he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Miss Hilda was here this afternoon, sir,” said -Mrs. MacQuoid. “She was reading in the library.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney’s heart thrilled with pleasure, and -a smile illumined his countenance. He was now -where she had lately been; the sweet consciousness -of her presence made his home doubly dear.</p> -<p class="pnext">While he was chatting with Archie and asking -Mrs. MacQuoid for the welfare of Rev. Carl and -family and the neighborhood in general, Sandy -lighted the library lamp, drew the blinds, and -wheeled Mr. Courtney’s favorite chair before the -grate.</p> -<p class="pnext">“If we had knowed that Marse Val was comin’,” -remarked Chloe, after he had withdrawn to the -library, “we could have had fried chicken and hot -waffles, an’ invited Mis’ Emma an’ Miss Hilda over, -an’ it would have been like ol’ times.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He knows we didn’t expect him, Chloe, and I -am sure this rich ham, and your beautiful white -rolls, and the sweet butter and honey will suit him,” -replied Mrs. MacQuoid as she placed glass and -china for one upon the tea-table.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He allus was that easy to please; never had no -bother nohow with Marse Val, and Marse Carl an’ -Miss Emma. They is angels, that is certain sure.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“True for you, Chloe, and now if the coffee is -ready, I will ring for the master.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It’s done ready, an’ is the Simon-pure an’ no -mistake. Kitty done say, she did, that when Marse -Val was a little fellah, he couldn’t be humbugged -when it come to coffee. He knowed the very fust -sip that the culled folks’ Rio wasn’t the white folks’ -Mocha.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The meal appeared to suit Mr. Courtney perfectly. -Refreshed in spirit by his sojourn in the -library, his manner proved the return of hope. -When he finished he again sought the library.</p> -<p class="pnext">On his homeward journey he had read and reread -Mrs. Courtney’s two latest letters, received by -the same mail—one telling him of the broken engagement, -the other of Hilda’s return to Dorton. -They had found him lonely, restless, seeking for -happiness that change did not bring. After reading -them he was, as it were, in another realm, and -obeying a sudden impulse made haste to return to -his native land, was now at “My Lady’s Manor” in -his favorite room. Alone and at leisure, he had -time to reflect.</p> -<p class="pnext">If, after all, his coming were fruitless, what had -life to offer in compensation for his great disappointment? -He reasoned that the broken engagement -was, perhaps, the result of a misunderstanding -which had been explained away, and the engagement -renewed upon a firmer basis than before.</p> -<p class="pnext">He called to mind that business alone had brought -Hilda to Dorton. She had not come because she -wished to see him or “My Lady’s Manor,” for she -knew of his absence, and could have no knowledge -as to when he would return.</p> -<p class="pnext">If she loved Fred Warfield, this visit to Dorton -would not weaken the attachment, nor would he -wish it to do so; yet her return to Fred would leave -him desolate, and “My Lady’s Manor” a prison.</p> -<p class="pnext">What presumption—he reflected—for one whose -age was nearly double her seventeen years to hope -to win one so lovely! What advantage had he over -the bright, buoyant beauty, the youthful companionship -of Fred Warfield, except his wealth? And -he knew Hilda’s noble nature too well to believe -for a moment that she would make of it the most -remote object. He arose from his place by the -hearth and walked to and fro in the quiet room.</p> -<p class="pnext">The library door opened softly and Archie came -in. “I want you!” he said, in a subdued, impatient -tone. “I promised her. Come!”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney made no response; mutely he -obeyed, and swiftly and silently Archie led the way -across the meadow to Mr. Merryman’s. Taking -neither path that led to the front entrance, he took -his accustomed way, opened the tea-room door, and -they stood in the presence of Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have brought you a valentine, but I could not -find one in the snow,” said Archie in a low tone. -“Archie would have tried and tried, had there been -any snow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda arose, a flush of joy illumined her sweet -face, she advanced a step toward Mr. Courtney, then -withdrew.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She does not love me, Archie,” said Mr. Courtney, -noticing the action, “youth and loveliness can -have no affinity with middle age.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Please tell him, Archie,” said Hilda, gently, -“that youth trusts to middle age for faithful love -and protection. Hair tinged with silver is beautiful -in my eyes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney advanced eagerly and taking her -hand in his pressed his lips upon it.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Archie, dare I ask for this dear hand?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“If he asks, Archie, it is his,” said Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“But the heart, Archie? The hand is valueless -to me unless the heart goes with it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Tell him, good Archie, that the heart has always -been his, though part of the time it knew not its -master.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I feel as if in a dream,” faltered Mr. Courtney; -“an hour ago despairing, now filled with -greater happiness than I had dared imagine.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We owe our happiness to Archie. He has been -my good genius from childhood. He is my mascot.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will make another effort to have him share our -home at ‘My Lady’s Manor’,” said Mr. Courtney. -“Your persuasion will, I think, prevail.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Our home!” Hilda’s heart thrilled at the sweet -words. An orphan, homeless, save for the goodness -of dear friends, she was now the promised -wife of one who would protect and care for her as -long as life was granted, one whom she could truly -love and honor for his noble, tender and steadfast -nature. How could she ever be grateful enough -to God for His goodness to her?</p> -<p class="pnext">“This is one of Archie’s homes; Archie will stay -till morning,” and, passing into the kitchen, the old -man, without so much as a word to the occupants -thereof, went up to his room, leaving Norah and -Perry amazed at his sudden appearance.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a look of supreme content Mr. Courtney -took a chair beside the center-table whereupon lay -the book which Hilda had been reading. His glance -fell upon the letter lying beside it and a look of pain -crossed his handsome features.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is only a valentine,” said Hilda. “Will you -read it?” and she gave it into his hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">“This is from young Mr. Warfield, I suppose?” -he commented with a smile as he finished the closing -lines.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, it is from Cousin Fred, and I suppose it is -my duty to tell you that he once asked me to be his -wife.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You loved him, of course,” said Mr. Courtney, -a little anxiously.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will tell you, sir, exactly as it was,” she replied, -with the straightforward look and manner -of one who had nothing to conceal. “The girls told -me that Fred is fickle, and they did not believe that -he could really love anyone. When he told me of -his affection for me, I knew it was what he had -said to every girl with whom he was well acquainted, -so did not believe him sincere. He wished -to correspond with me, and through his letters I -began to have a warmer affection for him, and was -disappointed when they began to grow cold, or -failed to come when expected. It ended by his -writing, releasing himself from the engagement.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And you were grieved, my darling?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir, and I was angry. His letter was so -patronizing, so full of his own importance, that had -I asked him to marry me, he could scarcely have -worded it differently. I let him know that, attractive -as he considered himself, I could quickly give -him up.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you were sorry it occurred?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“For a while I missed his visits and his letters, -then I grew glad it happened, for I would not have -known my feelings toward you had not Fred engaged -himself to me, and then broken the engagement. -I compared him with you, and he appeared -boyish and unstable. I could have no confidence in -him. He would change his mind at the altar if he -should see a prettier face among the spectators.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Was Mrs. Warfield aware of the engagement?” -asked Mr. Courtney, amused at the quaint seriousness -of the little woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Mr. Courtney, no mother could have acted -more nobly than she! I told her all, and gave her -his letter and my reply.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Could you welcome Mrs. Warfield and her -younger son to our home without one regret for -‘the might have been?’”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Without one regret.”</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xivarchie-finds-a-package"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id15">CHAPTER XIV—ARCHIE FINDS A PACKAGE</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Mrs. Warfield was deeply grieved and disappointed -that Fred had given Hilda cause to lose -confidence in him so utterly, as she had given evidence -in her letter to him. She had intended speaking -plainly to him in regard to his heartless conduct, -thinking it would influence him in his future -companionship with Hilda, and was much disappointed -that the summons came for her to return to -Dorton before his next visit home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her resolutions, like many others depending upon -circumstances, were put aside, for instead of -setting out to chide she remained to comfort. Fred, -for the first time in his life, was completely cast -down. Ever since receiving Hilda’s letter he had -been revolving in his mind what he would say when -they met, in order to place himself upon the former -basis.</p> -<p class="pnext">The passage at arms had aided him, as it had -Hilda, to define his feelings. He realized that he -loved her, and this time, if never before, was in -earnest. It was his intention to offer a humble -apology, and to ask a place in her esteem with the -eloquence of which he was master, and he did not -believe that she would refuse.</p> -<p class="pnext">His hopes received a blow when he came home -and found her gone, and no time specified for her -return. He could have shed tears in the bitterness -of his soul, and Mrs. Paul Warfield, who suspected -how matters stood, shook her shrewd head and -agreed with herself that it served him right.</p> -<p class="pnext">After sending the valentine he hoped to hear a -word from Hilda, but in her letter to his mother -no special mention was made of him, so he wrote to -her imploring her to believe him sincere in his profession -of affection for her, and asked for a line -bidding him hope. Perry brought the missive from -the village post-office and Norah took it to the parlor -where Hilda and Mr. Courtney were conversing by -the early evening fire-light.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda, with a deep blush, opened and read it and -passed it to Mr. Courtney.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope you don’t think I expect this of you,” he -said gently. “Believe me, I have not a particle of -jealous curiosity.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, sir; I gave it because I wish your advice in -regard to answering it, and you could not give it -unless you understood the whole affair. Aunt Sarah -has also written to me, and says that Fred deplores -his mistake and she hopes I will reconsider the matter, -for she knows him to be sincere and pities him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It would be well to answer both letters immediately,” -remarked Mr. Courtney when he finished the -perusal of Fred’s letter. “It is far kinder to tell -them the relation in which we stand to each other -than to allow them to indulge a false hope.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do not mind telling Fred,” replied Hilda, a -flush very like anger coming into her face, “but I -do feel sorry to grieve Aunt Sarah. She is as kind -to me as an own mother, and I love her so dearly.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know it, but it will not be the task to write it -that it would be to tell them were you there. I -should write at once to both.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will do as you advise. I can see that it is the -kinder way.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is another favor I would ask of you, my -dear one, and that is not to address me as ‘sir.’ It -keeps the difference in our ages in very large figures -before my eyes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I never thought of that,” responded Hilda, -laughing and blushing.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I hope you will never feel under more restraint -in my company than in that of Fred Warfield or -any other person near your own age. I should be -grieved to know that we were not in every way -congenial and at home with each other.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I never felt otherwise with you; you have always -appeared young to me,” said Hilda, sincerely.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Thank you, my darling; I am truly glad to hear -this. I have known two instances where the husband -was double the age of his wife, and the lady -in both cases seemed to be in awe of her husband. -I would be miserable to know that you felt so toward me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“You need not dread my being in awe of you,” -laughed Hilda. “You were somewhat younger than -now when I first became acquainted with you. I -suppose that accounts for my lack of deference. We -have grown old together.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney had suggested an early day for -their marriage, and there was nothing to prevent except -the item of a trousseau, a subject which Hilda, -penniless, and having no claim upon a human being, -did not consider open for discussion.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney believed that to be the cause of -her reluctance to agree to his suggestion for an -early day, and had he not appreciated her fine nature -so thoroughly, might have been tempted -through the aid of Mrs. Courtney, to do away with -that hindrance. As it was, he could only await -Time’s adjustment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda wrote to Mrs. Warfield and to Fred and -waited for the second time in her life with keen -anxiety for Mrs. Warfield’s reply. Would she be -wounded because Hilda remained indifferent to the -united appeal of mother and son? Would she resent -the reticence of Hilda in not giving them -knowledge of her attachment to Mr. Courtney in -the nearly two years she had been with them and -thus misleading Fred?</p> -<p class="pnext">Smothering the pain in her heart, Mrs. Warfield’s -letter was candid, cordial and affectionate. She -wrote nothing that would mar the happiness of the -girl whom she held blameless. She offered her sincere -congratulations, and added to the measure of -her kindness by enclosing a check for the purchase -of a handsome outfit as a wedding present.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was now nothing to prevent Hilda from -acceding to Mr. Courtney’s wish to appoint an early -day for the marriage, which would be at the home -of the Merrymans, Rev. Carl officiating, and the -bridal tour followed by a reception at “My Lady’s -Manor” under the auspices of Mrs. Courtney and -Mrs. Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">As upon a former occasion, Mrs. Courtney offered -her assistance in the matter of shopping, and the -offer was accepted gladly by Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening before they were to drive to Baltimore, -Mrs. Merryman and Hilda took a walk to the -cottage, and upon reaching the gate saw Archie -coming down the road from “My Lady’s Manor,” -where he had been the past night and day.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am sure he is on his way to ‘Fair Meadow,’” -said Mrs. Merryman. “Ask him to wait and go -with us; he can carry the things you wish to take.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Archie was willing to oblige and followed them -up the grass-grown path. He sat down upon the -door-step while the ladies went inside and opened -the windows, letting in the soft evening air, laden -with the odors of early spring.</p> -<p class="pnext">As upon former visits, Hilda went to the desk, -let down the lid and searched through the small -drawers and other receptacles, but found nothing, -and was about to lock it again when the old man -entered and stood beside her.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie knows where there is money,” he said -abruptly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Archie,” said Hilda, “we have searched -several times and can find nothing.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Archie knows it is there. Archie saw the -woman put it in there one night when he was looking -for people in the snow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Where is it, Archie?” asked Hilda, trying to -conceal her eagerness, knowing it would confuse -him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In that tall box,” pointing to the desk.</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is no money there, Archie,” said Mrs. -Merryman. “We have looked for it several times.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie can find it; he saw the woman put it -there. Archie was looking through a crack in the -shutter. The woman didn’t know Archie saw her,” -he added earnestly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Show us where it is, Archie,” said Hilda; “take -your own time.”</p> -<p class="pnext">He stepped to the desk, put up the lid, lowered it -again, and stood contemplating it with a look of -perplexity upon his worn face.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie forgets. He must think,” he said. He -locked and unlocked the desk several times, the -ladies sitting quietly by.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, Archie knows!” he cried exultantly. “The -woman held the lid so, and put her hand under -here,” and suiting the action to the word, he drew -forth a small flat package and gave it into the hand -of Hilda. It was addressed to her. She opened it -and found Mrs. Ashley’s letter, the money, a letter -from Jerusha Flint to her and the gold pen with its -holder set with rubies.</p> -<p class="pnext">Pale and silent, Hilda held them, her eyes brimming -with tears. It seemed almost as if her aunt -had returned to hold converse with her, and that -poor Jerusha was yet craving forgiveness, though -“after life’s fitful fever,” she was at rest in the -grave.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Hilda,” ran the letter, “I was cruel to you, and -can never atone for that, but I give back all I kept -from you. I did not intend to keep the pen, but -forgot to send it with the trunks, and then, wishing -to have no communication with you, put off -sending it. I have used it twice, there being no -other pen in the house. The first time was in writing -my letter to Mrs. Merryman to keep you. You -did not return, and I looked upon the pen as bringing -me good luck. Diana told me that she used it -in writing to Mrs. Warfield; you found a home -with her, which I regarded as better luck, for it -took you out of my sight. I directed an envelope to -my brother Horace with it, enclosing three letters. -One was my mother’s letter to me, received on my -sixteenth birthday. The other two I requested -Horace to forward to our grandfather after I am -gone, and I wish him joy in reading my mother’s -letter to him from Baltimore, and his reply. I also -enclosed for Horace a slip cut from a London newspaper -years and years ago, by my grandmother, -which confirmed the record of our ancestry and heredity -given in my mother’s letter to me.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That letter from my mother served to keep in -remembrance my miserable childhood. Her pride -of ancestry kept her from allowing me to associate -with the plebeian children of the neighbors, among -whom our poverty-stricken homes were compelled -to be, and to add to my half-starved, and in winter, -half-frozen condition, I was shut up with her sighs -and tears, her heart-sick waiting for forgiveness -and help from her father which never came, and -her unavailing regret for her disobedience to him -and to her mother, which was the cause of all her -troubles.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My sleep was broken, my nerves wrecked; and -I imagined and dreamed of all kinds of terrible -calamities which we were powerless to escape. When -my mother died, I was taken to an orphan asylum, -which I hated from foundation to roof; and when -old enough to earn my living was compelled to earn -it by means of an occupation I despised.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I mention these things as some little excuse for -my warped disposition which made me so disagreeable -to my fellow-creatures that I had not one real -friend, and was so cruel to you that I wonder you -lived. For that I implore your forgiveness.</p> -<p class="pnext right"><span class="small-caps">“Jerusha.”</span></p> -<p class="pnext">“Poor Jerusha looked upon this pen as a mascot,” -remarked Hilda, taking it up to examine it after -finishing the letter. “Oh, Aunt Merryman, how -could I bear resentment toward her after reading -this story of her life?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, we should be patient with our fellow creatures. -We cannot know the burdens that many of -them are bearing. I have often wondered what -trials poor old Archie has had to bring him to the -condition he is in now, for he has evidently seen -better days.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have often said that Archie is my good genius. -Besides saving my life, it seems that through him, -guided by a kind Providence, I have found three -beautiful homes, and now through him this package -has been found.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Did you ever see anything so capable of keeping -a secret as is this desk?” commented Mrs. Merryman. -“Let us examine it more closely.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“How simple when one understands it!” said -Hilda, raising and lowering the lid. “The desk has -a false bottom to which the lid is attached by -hinges not placed at the end, but a short distance -above it. Thus, when we put up the lid it closes -the secret space, and when the desk is open—that is, -the lid down and resting upon the open drawer beneath -it—it is concealed.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is the greatest curiosity in the shape of a desk -that I have seen,” commented Mrs. Merryman. -“Who would suspect a vacancy under what they -suppose to be the floor of the desk, large enough to -hold a larger package than yours? In truth, several -of that thickness could be concealed there if laid -side by side.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But the hiding place is easily seen if one knows -that the secret lies in holding the lid in a horizontal -position; but being always under it, and the entrance -to the secret nook being partly filled in by -the lower end of the lid, it is sure to elude detection.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It eluded ours, and Archie was puzzled, although -he had seen it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It cannot be seen except at the moment that -someone is raising or lowering the lid,” remarked -Hilda, experimenting, “and then only by an observing -person who was standing where a side view of -the desk could be had, as did Archie. When the -desk is closed it conceals the false floor; when it is -open it conceals the real one.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you and I are as intelligent as most persons,” -said Mrs. Merryman, reflectively. “How is -it that we could not find out the secret of that desk -as did Jerusha Flint? She said in her letter that -she had used the pen, and yet we find it with her -letter in the secret nook. Who told her how to -find it?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The information must have been in the letter -she destroyed. She feared it would fall in other -hands.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I am sure you are right,” answered Mrs. -Merryman.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is no wonder that she longed to see me,” continued -Hilda. “I wish for her sake that I had -reached here in time to listen to all she wished to -say.”</p> -<p class="pnext">They arose, locked the desk and the cottage door, -and, followed by Archie with the basket, went -home, Hilda carrying the package which had been -kept so long from its rightful owner.</p> -<p class="pnext">Since her return to Dorton she had gone several -times to the village churchyard to visit the grave of -her Aunt Ashley—on which Mrs. Warfield had -long before ordered to be placed a handsome memorial -stone—and never left it without evincing -her forgiveness by pausing at that of Jerusha Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">The wish had been in her heart to mark that -lowly mound by a headstone, however small and -plain—a greater longing than she had ever felt for -any acquisition for herself. Now the way was -opened, and the next day she made it part of her -errand to the city to visit the marble yard where -Mrs. Warfield’s order had been faithfully executed, -and order one of snow-white marble bearing only -the carved words—“Jerusha Flint.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Invitations to the wedding reception at “My -Lady’s Manor” were sent to the four members of -the Warfield family, but Mrs. Warfield and Fred -sent a courteous regret, promising to visit Hilda at -some future time.</p> -<p class="pnext">“They will never come,” commented Hilda, after -reading the letter aloud to Mr. Courtney. “Fred -will not wish to come, and Aunt Sarah would not -travel so far unless Fred or Paul accompanied her.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“After we are settled in our home we will invite -them again,” said Mr. Courtney, “and if they are -kept in ignorance of my knowledge of the engagement -between you and Mr. Warfield it will save -them embarrassment.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I shall never tell them unless they ask, and I -scarcely think they will mention it to us, or to -anyone.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lura purposed making her annual visit to -her uncle Robert De Cormis and his family in -Philadelphia about that time, and Paul accompanied -her there, and to the reception at “My Lady’s -Manor.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Upon her return to Ohio she discanted so volubly -upon the beauty of the bride, the elegance of the -bridegroom, and the grandeur of their home when -in the presence of Fred that Mrs. Warfield was constrained -to think that the chief pleasure she took -in the visit was the opportunity it gave her to embarrass -him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. MacQuoid and Chloe were rejoiced that the -home had a mistress, and that mistress, Hilda, and -Sandy, who had resumed his position as coachman -as soon as Mr. Courtney returned from Europe, was -more than satisfied, and drove the iron-grays to -town and back happier than a king.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. and Mrs. Valentine Courtney made an effort -to induce Archie to give up his wanderings and remain -with them, but to all inducements he made -the same reply, “No, Archie has plenty of homes; -he must walk about to find people in the snow.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“My Lady’s Manor” was a charming visiting -place to the young people of the neighborhood, and -to no one more so than to Erma Merryman, who -looked upon it as a second home, and upon Hilda -as a loved sister.</p> -<p class="pnext">One morning, about two years after Hilda had -taken up her residence there, Mr. Courtney came -into the nursery with an open letter in his hand. -The king of that small realm was Valentine Courtney, -Jr., a healthy, handsome boy, “just as good as -he is handsome,” being the opinion of each and all -who saw him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think I have a pleasant surprise for you, dear,” -said Mr. Courtney, taking the infant upon his knee -and looking with loving admiration upon mother -and child.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am not easily surprised, but have my share of -woman’s curiosity. What is it?” smiled Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Judge Sylvester happened to mention to me -some time ago that he wished a partner in his law -business and preferred a young man. I thought -immediately of Fred, and as Sylvester appeared -willing to have me write to him, I did so, remembering -that Mrs. Warfield said in one of her letters -that he wished to go into partnership with an established -firm. Fred answered promptly, and the result -is that he is coming to Baltimore and we will -have him near us.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“That was so kind and thoughtful in you; Aunt -Sarah will appreciate it,” said Hilda, gratefully.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have been wishing to do them some favor that -they would accept, in return for their kindness to -you, and am glad that this was acceptable.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda wrote that evening to Mrs. Warfield, inviting -her to come with Fred and make a long visit, -a request with which Mrs. Warfield gladly complied.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus before a month passed Fred Warfield was -established as partner with Judge Sylvester in Baltimore, -and Mrs. Warfield was at “My Lady’s -Manor,” where her son was always a welcome -guest.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvhildas-home"> -<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref" href="#id16">CHAPTER XV—HILDA’S HOME</a></h2> -<p class="pfirst">Five happy years had passed since Hilda had become -the cherished wife of Mr. Courtney, and during -those years Mrs. Warfield had spent two winters -at “My Lady’s Manor,” and was there for the -third. She was expecting to return to her Ohio -home, for spring had again made the earth jubilant -with the song of birds and fragrant with the perfume -of flowers.</p> -<p class="pnext">Although no confidences were solicited or given -upon the subject, Hilda knew that her beloved guest -was happier during these visits than at any other -time since Paul’s marriage, because away from the -domineering presence of Mrs. Lura, who was growing -more like Jerusha Flint every year of her life.</p> -<p class="pnext">No childish voices disturbed the quietude of the -farmhouse; perfect order reigned, and Mrs. Lura -could devote all the time she wished to embroidery, -the chief pleasure of her existence.</p> -<p class="pnext">There were many reasons for the sojourn at “My -Lady’s Manor” being pleasant to Mrs. Warfield, -not the least of which was having Fred so near, a -lawyer in good position, popular in society as he -had been in Springfield, and, as was characteristic, -falling in love with every beautiful face new to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Courtney invited him frequently to pass the -night with them, taking him back to his office in the -morning; and Fred thought, as had Hilda years before, -that nothing was more enjoyable than the -drive in a luxurious carriage drawn by a span of -handsome, spirited horses.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then Mrs. Warfield was always happy in the -company of children, and believed that no better or -handsomer boy could be found than the small Valentine; -and the dainty blue-eyed darling—Sarah -Warfield Courtney—was, in her eyes, the perfection -of infantile beauty and excellence.</p> -<p class="pnext">Another tie which bound her to Hilda and Hilda’s -home was the articles which had belonged to Mrs. -Ashley; and she passed some time each day in the -room containing them; relics hallowed by the touch -of the lovely and beloved young sister.</p> -<p class="pnext">She loved the neighborhood of Dorton and its -people; she and Mrs. Carl Courtney were congenial -in every way, were members of the same denomination, -and although both were too broad-minded -to be rigidly sectarian, it was a dear tie that attached -them to each other.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her visit, however, was nearly finished, and she -was making preparations to return to Springfield, -when she received a letter from Mrs. Lura, eminently -characteristic of that managing little matron. -It read:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst">“Dear Mother—I think you will be surprised to -hear of a change made in our household arrangements. -Father has always been lonely since I -married and left him, and it occurred to me that it -would save me much time and trouble going back -and forth if I could have him with us. So he has -given up the parsonage, and as he has always been -accustomed to a large front room with southern -exposure, and where sunlight comes in freely, I -have given him yours, which, being just across the -hall from Paul’s and mine, I think suits him well, -and I am sure you should be satisfied with the one -back of it, as Angie tells me you used it the summer -that Mrs. Lacy and two other visitors were at the -farmhouse, so you must have preferred it.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Believing that you cannot fail in agreeing to -this, I remain</p> -<div class="line-block noindent outermost right"> -<div class="line">“Your affectionate daughter,</div> -<div class="line">“Lura Warfield.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">After receiving this epistle it appeared to be a -suitable time for Mr. and Mrs. Courtney to again -urge their loved friend to remain with them, and -as that letter seemed to be the only thing required -to make her decide, she agreed to stay.</p> -<p class="pnext">They all had occasion to rejoice that she had -thus decided, for the next week after she had appointed -to go to Ohio, little Valentine was ill of -scarlet fever, and Mrs. Warfield, who loved the boy -as if he were of her own flesh and blood, was, next -to Hilda, his devoted nurse.</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Pears like ter me, Kitty,” said Andy one morning -when the dangerous symptoms were at their -height, “dat Marse Val didn’t seem chipper dis -mornin’ when he com’d over to see Marse Carl an’ -Mis’ Emma; has yer took notice to it, Kitty?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Marse Val never looked handsomer than he did -this yer mornin’,” replied Kitty, decidedly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I didn’t say nothin’ ’bout handsome, Kitty!” -exclaimed Andy irately. “I done said he wan’t so -chipper. I don’t like dat pale face, Kitty; ’tain’t -for no good, min’ dat.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I may as well tell you, Uncle Andy,” said Kitty, -hesitatingly, “that Chloe told me all about it; she -was in de china closet when Mis’ Emma was over -dar yistady, and heard her an’ Mis’ Warfield talkin’. -De doctor comes twice a day to see little Marse -Valentine and little Mis’ Sarah; dey has de scarlet -fever, an’ Dr. Lattinger is afeard dat little Marse -Valentine won’t live.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Well! well! well!” cried Andy, shaking his -white head, and brushing away a tear with the back -of his wrinkled hand. “I’s nearly a hundred years -ol’, an’ has toted Marse Val in my arms when he -was a chipper baby. I done lubed dat chile like I -lubed my own chillen, an’ now can’t help him none -in his trouble.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“We must all have trouble in dis world, Uncle -Andy.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know dat, but de good Lord won’t shorely -take little Marse Val an’ leave me who ain’t no -’count nohow. I’s like a withered apple on a dead -branch, dat no wind nor frost nor hail kin fotch -down from offen de tree.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Chloe told me that Dr. Lattinger says much depends -on de nursin’, and dey has good nurses. I -tell you that it is a mighty good thing Mis’ Hilda -has dat Ohio lady to call on in time of trouble.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“’Pears ter me yer knows a heap dis mornin’, -Kitty,” remarked Andy dryly. “’Spose yer was -’tendin’ to keep all dis from de ol’ man.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, Uncle Andy, but Mis’ Emma said it was -better not to tell you unless you asked, for it would -only distress you, for you think so much of Marse -Val.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Of course I does, Kitty, but nobody wants to be -kep’ in de dark, yer knows dat yer own self! Ol’ -folks wants ter know what is goin’ on, an’ how is -dey ter know widout somebody tells ’em?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will tell you all I know, Uncle Andy,” said -Kitty remorsefully, as the old man took out a remnant -of plaid handkerchief to dry his tears. “What -do you want to know next?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Whar did de chillen catch de feber?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Dr. Lattinger says it is in de atmosphere.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is dat sumpin’ to eat or drink, Kitty?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, it is the air.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Den why couldn’t he say de air? Oh, ’twill be -mighty hard for Marse Val to part wid dat little -boy and gal. Dey is de light of his eyes.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But maybe he won’t have to part wid dem, Uncle -Andy,” said Kitty, cheerfully, “and de sorrow -of a night will be forgot in de joy of de mornin’.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I am afeard dey’ll be taken, Kitty,” sighed -the old man tearfully. “I ain’t axed my heavenly -Marster to let me lib a little longer, not sense I had -seen Marse Val so happy in dem chillen, but I suttenly -wants to lib now; an’ if dey is taken I hope de -good Lord will spare ol’ Andy to comfort Marse -Val.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Andy was spared this grief, for to the joy of -many hearts the children recovered; and when the -balmy summer weather came were well enough to -enjoy many pleasant drives over the shady country -roads.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hilda, though favored with efficient helpers, lived -far from an idle, aimless life, for her days were -filled with good works. The plans originated by -Mr. Courtney for promoting the temporal and spiritual -welfare of his fellow creatures were heartily -seconded by her; she was in every way a helpmeet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Time passed speedily and happily in their home, -varied by visits from friends from the city and the -neighborhood, one of the best loved being Erma -Merryman. She had returned from her school in -Baltimore, a cultured and accomplished young lady, -cherished by the home circle and admired in society.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred, in his frequent visits to “My Lady’s -Manor,” saw, admired, and as was his wont, fell in -love with her which impelled Hilda to have a serious -talk with him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Erma is a sweet, confiding girl,” she said, “and -if you are only intending to flirt with her I consider -it my duty to warn her and her parents that -their confidence in you is misplaced; for you will -leave her for the next pretty face you see.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Oh, Cousin Hilda, please don’t prejudice them -against me! I am really in earnest this time.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“So you always say. Fred, what does make you -so fickle and inconsistent?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Absence, Cousin Hilda.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Absence! Oh, shame. What style of husband -would you make when you so easily forget a loved -one when separated for a time?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But the case would be entirely different, if the -lady were my wife. Never fear, Cousin Hilda. If -I am fortunate enough to win Miss Erma Merryman -you will see me one of the best of husbands; -you will be proud of me yet.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Listen, Fred; you and your family have been -dear, kind friends to me; but so, also, have been -Uncle and Aunt Merryman, and it would distress -me beyond measure to have them made unhappy -through you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I will not give them unhappiness; instead, -I wish to give them a son-in-law first-class in every -respect. Do, Cousin Hilda, lend a helping hand by -speaking a good word for me.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, sir; I will do nothing of the kind. Making -or breaking matrimonial engagements is something -at which my conscience rebels; and if ever I should -be tempted to aid in that line, it certainly would not -be for one so unsettled in the affections as yourself.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred laughed in his usual amiable and lighthearted -manner, but Hilda was too much disturbed -to smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It was never excusable in you, Fred, even with -youth on your side; but at your age it is positively -culpable. You will lose the respect of all right-minded -people, for if there is a person who merits -ridicule, it is a light-headed, trifling old beau.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Cousin Hilda, how can I convince you that -I am in earnest this time? I really love Miss Erma -and intend asking her to be my wife.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“No doubt; but unless you give me your word of -honor, as a gentleman, that you will not trifle with -the affections of that lovely girl, but will keep your -word, Mr. Courtney and myself will not consider -you worthy of respect, and our home will be closed -against you.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I do give you my word of honor as a gentleman -that I will ask Erma Merryman to be my wife; -and if she accepts, will ask the very earliest time -that she will agree to for our marriage, and will -not make the least effort to break the engagement -though the face of an houri should tempt me. Will -that satisfy you, Cousin Hilda?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, and no one will rejoice more than I to see -you happily married; and you cannot fail in happiness -if your wife be Erma Merryman.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening that Hilda and Fred had this conversation -Erma received a letter from Anita Appleton, -a school friend in Hagerstown, accepting the -cordial invitation given her by Erma the week before, -to pass a month at the Merryman farmhouse.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had scarcely finished the perusal of it when -Fred called and was told of the expected visitor, -and innocent satisfaction beamed in her gentle face -when she noticed that his brow grew clouded, and -the smile left his lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You do not seem glad, Mr. Warfield,” she said. -“I am sure you will be pleased with her. She is not -only very beautiful, but is lovely in disposition. She -is accomplished and witty; very different from me, -which is, I suppose, my reason for loving her more -than any girl in the school in Baltimore.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am glad for your sake, Miss Erma, but not -for my own. I wish only your society,” he said, -taking her small, white hand in his, “not only for -the evenings of the coming month, but for all -time. I came to ask you to be my wife,” and accustomed -as was Fred to making proposals of marriage, -his voice trembled with apprehension as to -the answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">Erma’s face flushed, then paled, and she remained -silent; a silence which Fred misconstrued.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I am aware that it was my duty to have first -asked your parents’ consent, but you have given but -little encouragement that you cared for me, and -now this expected visitor has unsettled my plans.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Erma was still silent; she seemed to be collecting -her thoughts for an answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Promise me that you will be my wife; promise -now, before a stranger steps in to prevent us being -alone together! If you will consent, I will seek the -consent of your father and mother before I leave -this evening.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I must have time to consider,” said Erma; “you -cannot expect me to take such an important step -without reflection, or consultation with papa and -mamma.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But you can certainly give me some hope, or appoint -some early date when you can give me your -decision!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I will appoint a time,” she said, gently. -“When Anita’s visit is over, if you ask me again I -will give you my decision. There is no need to -speak to papa and mamma in regard to it; their only -wish is for my happiness. They could say no -more to you than I have already done, and I am -sure that they will give free and full consent to any -choice I may make.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I would be so much happier if you would -promise me now, so much more settled in mind -than if kept in suspense for more than a month.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The time will soon pass, and we must bend all -our thoughts toward making Anita’s visit pleasant. -We will take her out driving and on horseback. -Cecil Courtney would, I think, help make a party of -four for many a pleasant expedition.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Then Cecil must be her escort; I will not give -you up to him!” said Fred, his face flushing warmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We will not consult our own pleasure,” replied -Erma, gently. “Whatever will be most agreeable to -Anita for the short time she will be here must be -our pleasure. I only hope that you will assist in -entertaining her by coming as many evenings as -you can.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“There is nothing to prevent my coming from -Baltimore every evening with Mr. Courtney; you -know that I have a standing invitation to ‘My -Lady’s Manor.’ Mr. Courtney is glad to have my -company in the drive out and back to the city.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I know it; Mr. Courtney loves you as he would -an own brother.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Early the following week Miss Appleton came, -was cordially welcomed by the Merrymans, and -proved to be one of the most agreeable of guests, -a brilliant, attractive creature, with whom every -member of the family felt at home from the moment -she crossed the door sill, and whose cheery presence -seemed to pervade the whole house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Anita had perfect taste in dress; and every article -of her artistic and elegant wardrobe was becoming -to her. More than once, the very first evening in -the parlor of the Merryman home, where several -young people were congregated in honor of her arrival, -Erma saw Fred’s glance rest upon the beautiful -face of her friend, and then upon hers, and she -read his thoughts as correctly as if they were spoken -words.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Bird of Paradise and gentle dove,” he had said -in a low tone to her, and she had the intuition that -“Bird of Paradise” was the ideal of the spoiled -favorite of society, and not the sober plumaged -dove.</p> -<p class="pnext">Cecil Courtney was more than pleased to act as -escort to one of the girls, and, seeming to prefer -Erma, Fred did not object; so after the first drive -and horseback expedition, all fell naturally into the -places which they had filled the beginning of the -visit.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fred made no secret of his preference for the -companionship of Anita, and soothed his conscience -with the thought that he had been solicited by -Erma to help entertain her friend, and she surely -could not be so unjust as to feel aggrieved that he -had taken her at her word.</p> -<p class="pnext">The visit was over and Anita returned to her -home, and Fred, true to the letter of his request, -and his promise to Hilda, called to hear Erma’s decision.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I have concluded that we are not at all suited to -each other, Mr. Warfield,” said Erma when he -again made his offer of marriage.</p> -<p class="pnext">A swift look of relief crossed Fred’s expressive -features, and any lingering idea that he really cared -for her fled from Erma’s mind.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next day she went to take tea at “My Lady’s -Manor,” and Hilda rejoiced at heart that she was -not a love-lorn damsel, but was, as usual, bright -and cheerful.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Fred seemed pleased with your friend Anita,” -remarked Hilda as the two were seated in the -shaded veranda while Mrs. Warfield and the children -were taking their afternoon rest.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Not pleased only, but captivated. He is certainly -in love now, if never before.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But Erma, dear, if you care for Fred, was it -wise to invite your beautiful friend to visit you at -this time?”</p> -<p class="pnext">A smile, as if the question had called up some -pleasant remembrance, hovered upon the lips of -Erma, and Hilda’s heart grew so light that she -laughed gleefully.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Tell me, my Erma,” she said, assuming a tragic -air, “pour out the secrets of that heart into my -faithful bosom.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I will, oh friend of my childhood!” laughed -Erma; then with tears of feeling in her eyes she -added, “Oh, Hilda, how grateful I am every hour -since Anita’s visit that I was willing to agree with -papa and mamma’s advice to invite her to visit me at -this time.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“The advice of Uncle and Aunt Merryman?” -exclaimed Hilda in surprise.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, I had told them of Mr. Warfield’s flippant -manner of speaking of his broken engagements, -and they trembled for my happiness should I become -his wife. That was our reason for inviting -Anita at this time and the result is just as we expected.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“And you are not crushed by the blow? Ah, -Erma, dear, someone has taken possession of that -gentle heart of yours.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Erma’s downcast eyes and flushing cheeks confirmed -her in this opinion in advance of the artless -words, “Yes, Hilda, I compared him with Cecil -Courtney, and he dwindled into insignificance beside -that manly, reliable friend that I have known -from babyhood. And oh, Hilda, Cecil has always -cared for me and I did not know it! Nor did I -know until Anita’s visit that I cared for him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I congratulate you both from my heart; but -Erma, dear, there is another side of the question to -be considered. Was there not danger of your friend -Anita becoming attached to Fred? You cannot -deny that he is handsome and agreeable.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I told her that he was a known trifler, and she -was not many evenings in his society until she saw -that my opinion was correct. She went away perfectly -fancy free, so far as Fred was concerned. I -cannot answer for him.”</p> -<p class="pnext">Erma had not long to wait to hear how Fred -fared, for Anita’s second letter informed her that -he had written an offer of marriage which she declined -for two reasons, one being that she could not -respect a man who so trifled with the affections, -and the other, that after her return she promised -herself in marriage to a young man worthy in every -respect, absence proving that they were all in all -to each other.</p> -<p class="pnext">Winter, with its sleighing parties and other -amusements, brought the young people together frequently, -and Cecil Courtney was always Erma’s -escort, both their families, the Lattingers, and in -truth the whole neighborhood approving highly of -the prospective union.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus the months passed, and one sweet June -morning a company of dear friends were gathered -in the parlor of the Merryman farmhouse to witness -the marriage, after which the newly-made husband -and wife went upon a wedding journey and -then took up their residence in Baltimore, as happy -a young couple as could be found in “Maryland, -My Maryland.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening of the wedding day Hilda and the -children took one of their favorite walks to Dorton -churchyard, and while the little ones, under the care -of Chloe, gathered wild flowers that dotted the -grassy enclosure, Hilda went to the resting place of -Jerusha Flint.</p> -<p class="pnext">When she reached the spot she was surprised to -see a lady beside it, and more so to find in her no -stranger, but Mrs. Robert De Cormis, of Philadelphia, -the aunt, by marriage, of Mrs. Lura Warfield.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No wonder that you are surprised to see me, -my dear,” she said, as Hilda greeted her cordially. -“I am on my way to your house to pass the night -with you, if agreeable to you to entertain me at this -time. The postmaster at Dorton pointed out ‘My -Lady’s Manor,’ but I took a circuit from the direct -way in order to visit this churchyard.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Nothing would give us greater pleasure than to -have you with us, Mrs. De Cormis. Shall we walk, -or would you prefer that I send Chloe to have the -carriage come for us?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I prefer walking this lovely evening, and we -can converse on our way. I came from Philadelphia -this morning, and stopped off in Baltimore in -order to see Horace Flint, the brother of Jerusha -Flint. He had forwarded letters to our address -which was the reason for my coming. My dear, do -you know that Jerusha was my husband’s niece, the -daughter of his only sister?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“His niece!” echoed Hilda, halting to look into -the face of Mrs. De Cormis; “his sister’s daughter! -Then she was first cousin to Lura Warfield, wife of -Cousin Paul.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, her own cousin; Lura’s father and Jerusha’s -mother were brother and sister.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Lura Warfield has no knowledge of it, I am -sure. I have every reason to know that she never -heard of Jerusha Flint until she became acquainted -with me,” commented Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“No, I am sure of it. My husband never heard -of Jerusha until we received the letter from her -brother—Horace De Cormis Flint—which Jerusha -requested should be forwarded to her grandfather. -The letter proved itself, having been written by -Jerusha’s mother—my sister-in-law, long since -dead; and enclosed in it was my father-in-law’s reply.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“But I cannot understand it,” exclaimed Hilda -in bewilderment. “Jerusha died several years ago. -Why were not her mother’s and her grandfather’s -letters forwarded at that time to your husband, Mr. -Robert De Cormis, instead of waiting until now?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Horace Flint gave the excuse that as he and his -sister Jerusha had lived until past middle age without -any acquaintance with their mother’s relatives -he should never have made himself known were it -not for the request of Jerusha.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I never saw Horace Flint,” remarked Hilda. -“He may never have lived in this neighborhood, or -if so, must have left it before my remembrance.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“He did not mention how long he has lived in -Baltimore, but just incidentally mentioned that -Jerusha’s home was with him until she rented the -cottage where a lady lived whose name was Ashley.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It is so surprising that I can as yet scarcely -comprehend it,” said Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It was the same to me, and the perusal of the -two letters sent by request of Jerusha was a great -grief to my husband. I will tell you of them.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The mother of Jerusha and Horace Flint was -the only daughter of Father De Cormis, and was -several years older than her two brothers—Rev. -Horace De Cormis, of Woodmont, Ohio, and Robert -De Cormis, my husband.</p> -<p class="pnext">“She was beautiful, but self-willed, and in spite -of the threats of her father and the entreaties of her -mother persisted in receiving the attentions of a -young man named Archibald Flint, who was visiting -Philadelphia from San Francisco.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He was handsome, cultured and amiable, but -without knowledge of business of any kind.</p> -<p class="pnext">“To break off this intimacy Miss De Cormis was -sent to a distant boarding school. Mr. Flint followed, -she eloped and they were married, and for -several years her parents heard no word of them. -Not knowing that during this time her mother had -died, and being in abject poverty, Mrs. Flint wrote -to her parents from her poor home in Baltimore, -beseeching them for the sake of her little daughter, -Jerusha—named for Mother De Cormis—to send -relief.</p> -<p class="pnext">“My father-in-law was a man of implacable temper; -he wrote commanding her never to communicate -with him again. He reproached her as being -the cause of her mother’s death, and added that her -ingratitude and disobedience to her parents was being -visited upon her children. He concluded his -letter by saying that he disowned her as a daughter, -had disinherited her, and had commanded his young -sons, Horace and Robert, under the same penalty, -never to see her or communicate with her in any -way.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In this letter he returned the one she had written; -and these were the two letters which Jerusha -had requested her brother Horace to send their -grandfather; but he being years before in his grave, -we, who are living in his old home, received them.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Poor Jerusha had these letters,—her mother’s -to grieve over, and her grandfather’s to sour her -against the world,” sighed Hilda. “Her poor young -mother was severely punished for her disobedience. -I wonder how long she lived after receiving that -letter?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It must have been several years, for Horace -Flint mentioned in our conversation to-day that -Jerusha was ten years of age and he was six, when, -after the death of their mother, they were taken by -their father to the orphan asylum.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wonder what became of the father?” questioned -Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“We always supposed that he died years ago, -our reason for thinking so being a letter found -among the papers left, by Father De Cormis. It -was written to him by a nurse in the hospital in -Baltimore, saying that a man was lying there dangerously -ill of brain fever, and in his pocket they -had found a letter which, being addressed to Father -De Cormis, the nurse had written to enclose it. But -Horace informed me to-day that his father recovered.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“I wonder if Father De Cormis gave any attention -to the letter of the nurse?” questioned Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“I think not, nor to the one Archibald enclosed -in it, which was so pathetic in its appeal that, so -well as I knew my father-in-law, I wondered that -he could steel his heart against it.</p> -<p class="pnext">“It was written at the bedside of his sick wife, -and in it Father De Cormis was implored to send -relief to the suffering woman and her little children. -The writer added that he was ill, and exhausted -from watching, and from a long walk of -several miles to ask assistance of his brother-in-law, -Joshua Farnsworth, of ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ who -was willing and able to assist him, but who had -died suddenly, so that hope was extinguished.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He wrote that he had no expectation or wish to -live, but while able to write, and with a clear mind, -he wished to state the incidents of his visit to his -brother-in-law, Joshua Farnsworth, at ‘My Lady’s -Manor,’ which, with his many anxieties and insufficient -food, had brought on the fever from which -he was then suffering.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In order to make his statement plain, he dated -back to his boyhood in San Francisco, where he and -his sister were the only children of wealthy parents -who indulged them in every wish. He grew up -without knowledge of business of any kind, his -parents lost their property, and this was followed -by their death.</p> -<p class="pnext">“His sister married Joshua Farnsworth, who at -that time lived in San Francisco, and at the age of -twenty-one she died, leaving an infant son—Reginald—whom -Mr. Farnsworth placed in the care of a -friend and left for Maryland and became owner of -‘My Lady’s Manor,’ now your home.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archibald wrote that being without home or -kindred—except his little nephew, Reginald Farnsworth—he -left San Francisco for Philadelphia. At -this point in his letter he implored pardon—as he -had done many times before—for the elopement, and -added that they had wandered about seeking employment, -until compelled to remain in Baltimore -owing to the ill health of his wife. They were reduced -to want, when he heard incidentally that his -brother-in-law, Joshua Farnsworth, was living here, -and he walked from Baltimore to see him, ask for -help and then return the same night. He saw Mr. -Farnsworth at the post-office and walked with him -to ‘My Lady’s Manor’ and up to the seats upon the -roof, where they could converse undisturbed. There -Mr. Farnsworth agreed to take him back to Baltimore -that night in his carriage and provide liberally -for his family.</p> -<p class="pnext">“He had scarcely finished speaking when he -placed his hand upon his heart and fell back lifeless. -The shock to Archibald was so great that for -some time he sat motionless; then, realizing the -danger to himself if found there alone, he resolved -to escape from the house. When he reached the -corridor he saw the open door in the wall of a back -attic room. He crept through it into a meat room, -closed it after him and went down a flight of steps -and out a door which he locked and took the key, -unconsciously. He walked back to Baltimore, -where at the bedside of his wife he wrote the letter -to Father De Cormis, closing it with a heartfelt -petition for assistance, and taking all the blame of -the daughter’s disobedience upon himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The letter was never mailed by him, for his wife -died that night. The next morning he took Jerusha -and Horace to the orphan asylum, then went to the -hospital, where the letter was found upon his person.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Does Horace Flint say that his father is yet -living?” asked Hilda.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, but he has no home, but wanders about, -his mind nearly a blank since his attack of brain -fever.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“It surely is Archie, the Archie who saved my -life!” exclaimed Hilda. “No one in the neighborhood -knows his last name, for he has forgotten it.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Horace mentioned that he sees him frequently, -as did Jerusha, but without making themselves -known to him. I think there is no doubt but he is -the Archie you speak of; and, my dear, I am sure -you will be surprised to know that Jerusha was the -great-granddaughter of a French nobleman—the -Marquis De Cormis. He was a noted officer in the -French army, but owing to a sudden ebullition of -temper was forced to flee from his native land.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is it possible?” exclaimed Hilda. “I wonder if -Jerusha knew it!”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, her mother told her of it in the letter -which Jerusha sent to her brother Horace, and -which Horace forwarded to Philadelphia. He also -showed me a slip cut from a London newspaper of -that date which gave all the details of the affair -which made a refugee of the marquis.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Do you know what it was?”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Yes, my father-in-law told us of it a short time -before his death, and we also found a full account -of it among his papers and those of the marquis, -which he had kept. The substance of it was that -the young Marquis De Cormis was at one time -summoned from the frontier by his superior officer, -and when he upon a dark, stormy night arrived at -the tent of the officer, cold, wet, and exhausted from -a long ride, he was severely and insultingly reprimanded -for his delay in reaching there.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The haughty spirit of the marquis could not -brook the injustice from one whose social position -was inferior to his, and seizing a boot which the -officer had just removed, he hurled it at the head of -its owner. It struck him upon the temple and he -fell to the ground unconscious.</p> -<p class="pnext">“The marquis rushed from the tent and with the -help of his aides escaped to England, and from -thence sailed to America, where he lived in the -strictest retirement. He married in Philadelphia -and my father-in-law was the only heir to the -property in France, and to the title, neither of which -he made effort to claim.</p> -<p class="pnext">“In my father-in-law’s will was a request that my -husband should go to France and lay claim to the -property, and divide it equally between himself and -Horace, which has been done.”</p> -<p class="pnext">The two ladies had walked slowly toward “My -Lady’s Manor” during the conversation, and upon -reaching it found that Archie, who had come the -evening before, was still there; and after Hilda had -shown Mrs. De Cormis to her room she returned to -have a chat with him.</p> -<p class="pnext">“You have never told me your last name, Archie,” -she said gently as she took a seat beside him. -“Every person has a last name, and it would please -me to know yours.”</p> -<p class="pnext">“Archie forgets; he has tried, and tried, and cannot -think,” and a look of sad perplexity came into -the worn face.</p> -<p class="pnext">“Is it Flint? Archibald Flint?”</p> -<p class="pnext">A gleam of glad recognition came into the eyes -of the wanderer, and he clasped his hands in delight.</p> -<p class="pnext">“That is it! Archibald Flint! Archie has never -heard it since he had the fever. Archibald Flint! -Yes, that is Archie’s name.”</p> -<p class="pnext">From that time he made no effort to leave “My -Lady’s Manor.” He said he was tired of looking -for people in the snow; he must rest. So he remained -in that comfortable home, frequently saying -to himself, “Archibald Flint! Yes, that is Archie’s -name,” and the home of the one whose life he had -saved was truly a haven of rest to his weary feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Lives of usefulness, peace and happiness were enjoyed -by the Courtneys and their loved Mrs. Warfield; -and Mrs. Ashley’s prayer had, in God’s own -time and way, been fully answered; for Hilda was -a consistent Christian, and her home and that of -Sarah Warfield was one and the same.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst">THE END.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>HILDA’S MASCOT</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40620"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40620</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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