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diff --git a/41440-8.txt b/41440-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d8f97c9..0000000 --- a/41440-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10247 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Poppea of the Post-Office, by Mabel Osgood Wright - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Poppea of the Post-Office - -Author: Mabel Osgood Wright - -Illustrator: The Kinneys - -Release Date: November 22, 2012 [EBook #41440] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POPPEA OF THE POST-OFFICE *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, HathiTrust, Mary Meehan and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - - POPPEA OF THE POST-OFFICE - - BY MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT - (BARBARA) - - AUTHOR OF "THE GARDEN OF A COMMUTER'S WIFE," "PEOPLE OF THE - WHIRLPOOL," "THE OPEN WINDOW," ETC. - - WITH FRONTISPIECE - BY THE KINNEYS - - New York - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1909 - _All rights reserved_ - - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO - ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO - - MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED - - LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA - MELBOURNE - - THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. - TORONTO - - COPYRIGHT, 1909, - BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. - - Set up and electrotyped. Published July, 1909. Reprinted - July, 1909. - - Norwood Press - - J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. - Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - - To - E. C. S. - IN REMEMBRANCE - - - - -[Illustration: _Poppea glanced wistfully across the room and then -slipped out through one of the long windows_] - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE TENTH OF MARCH 1 - - II. THE WRONG AT HIS DOOR 19 - - III. THE NEXT DAY 32 - - IV. THE FELTONS 50 - - V. THE NAMING 68 - - VI. AS IT WAS WRITTEN 83 - - VII. INTO THE DARK 101 - - VIII. SANCTUARY 116 - - IX. THE MYSTERY OF THE NAME 134 - - X. PHILIP 154 - - XI. INCOGNITA 172 - - XII. FRIENDSHIP? 192 - - XIII. THE TURNING 213 - - XIV. A PROPOSAL 231 - - XV. NIGHT AND MORNING 251 - - XVI. OUT OF THE ASHES 267 - - XVII. DADDY! 284 - - XVIII. THE SCAR ON THE HAND 305 - - XIX. JOHN ANGUS 318 - - XX. ON THE WINGS OF THE MORNING 337 - - - - -POPPEA OF THE POST-OFFICE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE TENTH OF MARCH - - -The six-thirty New York mail was late. So late that when the tall clock -that faced the line of letter-boxes boomed eight, the usual hour for -closing, Oliver Gilbert, the postmaster, ceased his halting tramp up and -down the narrow length of the office, head and ears thrown forward in -the attitude of a listening hunting-dog. Going to the door, he pulled it -back with a nervous jerk and peered into the night. - -As he did so, he was followed by a dozen men of various ages and social -conditions, who, in waiting for the evening mail, the final social event -of their day, had been standing about the stove, or, this choice space -being limited, overflowed into the open room at the back of the -post-office, with its work bench, chairs, and battered desk, topped by -book shelves; for, in addition to his official position, the postmaster -was a maker and mender of clocks and the Scribe for all those in the -village of Harley's Mills who could not safely navigate the whirlpools -of spelling. - -In fact, a smattering of law, coupled with the taste for random browsing -in every old book on which he could lay his hands, had given Gilbert -the ability to draw up a will, a promissory note, or round an ardent yet -decorous love-letter, with equal success. - -It was nothing unusual that the men saw as they looked into the bleak -March night, and yet they huddled together, listening spellbound and -expectant. A week before there had been a breath of spring in the air. -In a single day the heavy ice left the Moosatuck with a rush, to be lost -in the bay; a flock of migrant robins rested and plumed themselves in -the parsonage hedge; ploughing was possible in the fields that lay to -the southwest, and the wiseacres, one and all, predicted an early -spring. But in a single night this vision had vanished and winter -returned in driving snow that, turning to rain, coated everything -heavily with ice. Roadway, fences, and the sedate white colonial houses -that flanked the elm-bordered main street absolutely glittered in such -light as an occasional lantern on porch or fence post afforded. It -seemed almost mocking to the men in the door of the post-office; in -every way it had been a cruel season, this first winter of the War of -the Rebellion. It was not yet a year since the entire North had been -brought to its feet by the loss of Fort Sumter, and had sent forth an -army of seventy-five thousand volunteers as its reply. - -The gloom of repeated defeat settled heavy as a cloud of cannon smoke -over New England, whose invincibility had given birth to the union of -states that it now sought to preserve, the only recent glimmer of light -having been Grant's capture of Fort Donelson in February. - -This was discounted on the east coast by the terrifying career of the -_Merrimac_, beforetimes a United States cruiser, but now in Confederate -hands, that, by closely sheathing the wooden vessel with metal plates, -had converted her into a deadly ram which no wooden ship could -withstand, and already having ran amuck through the waters of Hampton -Roads, showed the possibility of putting every Union port in peril. - -Then had come the news this very Monday morning, vague in detail and -almost unbelievable, that the _Monitor_, the mysterious invention of -Ericsson, a craft that to the casual observer looked as harmless as any -harbor buoy, going from New York under tow, had, on Sunday morning, met -and vanquished the great fire-spitting dragon that guarded the entrance -to the James. - -It was for confirmation or details of this news that the men of Harley's -Mills were waiting and listening for the mail-train that did not come, -in their unfeigned anxiety interpreting its unusual delay as a bad omen. - -Presently, a faint whistle struggled up against the fierce gusts of east -wind; a locomotive headlight, gaining in power after every -disappearance, flashed across the rolling fields that lay toward -Westboro. The train was coming at last. - -"Here, take these lanterns, boys," cried Gilbert, "and do some of you go -down to meet her and come back with the mail-bag. It's a tough walk for -Binks's boy to bring it up alone in this storm." - -"'Lisha Potts, do you unhook that red light from the horse-post yonder, -and if the news is good (Binks will likely have it from the train crew -or some passenger), wave the light above your head as you come back." -This to a broad-shouldered, up-country giant, with a grim, square jaw, -and hair the color and consistency of rye stubble. - -"Good God! I can't stand this waiting and not knowing!" Gilbert almost -shouted as he closed the door behind the crowd and found himself alone -in the now dimly lighted post-office, except for old Selectman Morse, -white-haired and fragile, who, not being able to go out into the storm -with the others, was groping his way towards the stove. - -"If I had two sound legs," Gilbert continued, "my fifty years shouldn't -stand between me and seeing and helping do what must be done down there -south of Washington; the bitter part of it is staying here. Next month -when the Felton ladies come back, I guess we'll have a telegraph -operator right at the station, at least that's what Wheeler their -foreman told me yesterday. You see, both Mr. Esterbrook and John Angus -are directors in the Railroad Company, and what with one's wanting to -hear the good news and the other the bad, we're likely to get it. Come -back into the workroom, neighbor Morse. After your long wait you'll find -a chair easier sitting than the coal-box lid." - -"There's more than you that has to fight it out at home to give those -that's gone free minds," replied the old man, shivering as he settled -back in a carpet-covered rocker of strange construction. "Dan had turned -forty when he went, and now little Dan has run off to follow him and -he's scarce sixteen, so my fight must be fit out to keep son's wife and -girl children in food meantime; but I hope the Lord'll understand and -count it all for the same cause." - -Gilbert, who had seated himself at his desk and was fumbling among some -papers in an absent-minded way, wheeled toward the old man quickly. - -"Of course He will, for that's what Lincoln wrote me, and he and the -Lord have got to be of one mind in this business if it's going through -as it must." - -"Wrote _you_? Lincoln wrote you? When? How? Why didn't you tell the -boys? They'd burst with pride to know a letter from Lincoln was in the -town, much less right here in the post-office that's public property, so -to speak!" cried Morse, leaving his chair and stiff limbs together, and -coming toward the desk almost with a bound. - -Gilbert started as he realized what secret had slipped past his lips, -hesitated a moment, and then pulling a stool from under the desk, -motioned his companion to sit beside him. - -On the wall directly in front hung a very good engraving of Washington, -in a home-made frame of charred wood; under it was suspended an old -flint-lock, worm-eaten in stock and rusty at trigger. Below it, at one -side of the desk so that it came face to face with the owner, a large -colored lithograph of Lincoln was tacked to the wall, framed only by a -wreath of shrivelled ground-pine and wax-berries. - -Taking a key from his vest-pocket where it lay in company with bits of -sugared flag-root, Gilbert wiped it carefully and unlocking a drawer in -the desk that, to the casual glance, seemed merely an ornamental panel, -took out two letters and a double daguerreotype case that held the -pictures of a young woman and a little girl a year old. Placing these -things before him, Gilbert leaned back, grasping the arms of his chair -as if bracing himself for an effort. - -"Last year when Curtis died and it was thought well to have the -post-office come up here in the centre of the town, the boys did all -they could to push me for the place in spite of John Angus's opposition, -and Mr. Esterbrook drew up a nicely worded account of who I was and why -I should have the office, to go to Postmaster Blair by our Senator. Of -course it was done the right way I suppose, with this and that claim for -consideration, but I'd never known it was me it spoke of, and somehow it -didn't seem quite square, for I'm nobody. So I thought I'd just send a -few words to the President, explaining things, if word of such small -offices ever reached him; anyway it would ease my mind. I made it short -as I could: just told him that it wasn't all money need made me want the -office, for I'd a trade, but I was lonesome with only the dead-and-gone -people in books for company, and I wanted something to do that would -keep me near to my fellow-men, without which age is souring. - -"Well, Morse, in due time my appointment came and in with it, this--" -carefully opening and spreading out one of the letters:-- - - "'WASHINGTON, April 2, 1861. - - "'MR. OLIVER G. GILBERT: - - "'MY DEAR SIR:-- - - "'Your letter is in my hands. I have been lonely and have lived in - books. I was once a postmaster and I understand. - - "'Faithfully yours, - - "'A. LINCOLN.' - -"When a couple of weeks ago, in the midst of all this turmoil, his son -Willie died, I waked up in the night from dreaming of Mary and little -Marygold, and thought that Mary wanted me to write something. So I says -I guess I'll write Lincoln that I'm sorry, and that I understand his -trouble because of Mary's leaving me ten years ago, and Marygold the -next year, and how the Lord, through my crooked leg, won't let me join -them quick by way of battle. I put it down right then and there and sent -it the next morning, never thinking of a reply. - -"Saturday, this came," and Gilbert unfolded the second letter:-- - - "'WASHINGTON, March 3, 1862. - - "'OLIVER G. GILBERT: - - "'MY FRIEND:-- - - "'It seems that we understand each other. I thank you for your - letter. If the Lord's Will has stayed your joining in this - conflict, be sure that He will find some other wrong for you to - right, by your own door. - - "'Gratefully, - - "'A. LINCOLN.' - -"Now, Morse, you can see why I haven't spoken of these letters and why I -shouldn't brag of them, for they are not from the President, but from -man to man. - -"My grandfather, whose musket hangs up there, fought through the -Revolution. That picture of Washington is framed in a piece of oak wood -from this house that was set on fire by Arnold's men. Grandsir' revered -Washington next to God, and later, when he saw him as President, he -wrote a long letter, that cost eight shillings to deliver, to my -grandmother, telling her of his visit to Mt. Vernon. One part I've -always remembered, I've heard it read so often; it ran thus: 'His whole -demeanor was so full of dignity that he assuredly is great enough to -hold his own with kings, and be one in their company; yet though I -desired to have speech with him, as others did, I dared not take upon -myself to begin it. As he did not, I presently came away, much -disappointed.' - -"Don't shake your head, neighbor Morse, I'm drawing no comparisons, for -there's no man fit to pair with either of them; but, mind you, if -Washington was fit to match with kings, Abraham Lincoln is humble enough -to be a man, a brother of the Man of Sorrows, who well knew loneliness -in the midst of a multitude, saying, 'Foxes have holes and the birds of -the air have nests, but the Son of Man has not where to lay his head.'" - -A shout came down the street. Hastily pushing his treasures into their -drawer, the postmaster locked it with fingers that trembled, and reached -the door with his old friend, in time to see the little procession -crossing the road, the red lantern, held by a rake, swinging gayly -above 'Lisha Potts's head. - -"It's a true victory!" he called; "we've got the paper. Shouldn't wonder -if next month saw the war end. Hey, Gilbert, now's the chance to run -your big flag up with the little one atop, unless the halyard's frozen -fast." - -"Now, boys, bunch the lamps," said Gilbert, presently, as he cleared a -place on his work table, adjusted his spectacles, and spread out the -coveted sheet. The newspaper being fully three feet in length, the print -very small, and the large captions of to-day lacking, it took Gilbert -some time to locate the desired news. Meanwhile the boys pressed closer -and closer until, as he stopped for the second time to adjust his -glasses, 'Lisha Potts, peering over his shoulder, read at the top of his -voice: "Naval Engagement in Hampton Roads--Loss of the Frigates -_Cumberland_ and _Congress_--Great Success of the Ericsson Battery!" - -"That'll do, 'Lisha," said Gilbert, with some asperity. "I believe that -I'm reading this paper-- - -"_First Edition_--Fortress Monroe, March 9.--The _Monitor_ arrived at 10 -P.M. yesterday and went immediately to the protection of the _Minnesota_ -lying aground just below Newport News. At 7 A.M. to-day the _Merrimac_, -accompanied by two wooden steamers, the _Yorktown_ and _Jamestown_, and -several tugs, stood out toward the _Minnesota_ and opened fire. The -_Monitor_ met them at once and opened fire, when the enemies' vessels -returned, except the _Merrimac_. The two ironclads fought part of the -time touching each other, from 8 A.M. until noon, when the _Merrimac_ -retreated--" - -"Never mind the whole story now, get the finish first," chorused the -audience. - -"Here on the next page," cried 'Lisha. - -"_Second Edition_," read Gilbert, deliberately. "The side of the -_Merrimac_ pierced by the _Monitor_! The Ericsson battery finally -succeeded in forcing a long hole in the port side of the _Merrimac_ and -she retired with the whole rebel fleet to Norfolk about one o'clock!" - -Cheers drowned Gilbert's voice, and the paper passed from hand to hand, -each man reading some particular phrase that pleased him, while Seth -Moore, one of the retired sea-captains of which every coast town at this -period had its quota, banging on the floor with his cane, cried: "It -isn't only a blow to the rebels but to wooden ships as well; I didn't -think so much scrap-iron could keep afloat. Mark my words, first thing -we know even the passenger liners will all want their iron trim, and the -Lord knows but what even the coastwise service'll come to it some day!" - -It was after ten o'clock before, discussion ended, the men went their -various ways. The storm had ceased, and the intense blue black of the -sky set with stars seemed only a degree less cold and burnished than the -ice-coated earth over which the "boys" went home, slipping and sliding; -the younger making a frolic of the matter, the older clinging to the -fence rails. - -"It's going to be a mean walk for me to-night, three miles straight up -hill and against the wind," said 'Lisha Potts to Gilbert, as he helped -him fix the inside bars on the shutters, preparatory to closing the -office. - -"Then why not stop with me?" questioned the postmaster. "I couldn't -think of sleeping for a couple of hours yet, and somehow, the idea of -reading don't come natural to-night, though I've been mighty interested -getting into the workings of the wars of the ancients, all about the way -Xenophon managed to get those ten thousand Greeks to retreat across -country, without really skedaddling. Ever heard about it? Mebbe you'd -like I should read it to you." - -'Lisha, a man of the remoter farming country and timber land, used to -the big open spaces of life that some call loneliness, shook his head in -an emphatic denial that almost amounted to alarm, and began to button -his heavy frieze top-coat. - -"Well, well, I won't, so don't get scared," laughed Gilbert, -indulgently. "If folks don't thirst for knowledge, there's small use -choking it down their throats. Not that the best of learning comes out -of books, for you learned your trade of reading the ground and the -weather 'n' hunting and tracking all out o' doors." - -"I tell you what we'll do, go over back into the house, light all the -lamps I've got, and set them in the windows for a victory illumination. -Then we'll cook up a nice little supper for our two selves and have a -smoke by the fire. I don't often do it these days, haven't felt peart -enough; but to-night, somehow, I feel skittish, like I did forty years -ago when a pair of yearling steers I'd trained got first premium at the -Old Haven Fair. To-night a pipe between my teeth's not a bad habit as -the parsons preach, 'Lisha, but a necessity, yes, a bare, vital -necessity." - -This proposition being in the direct path of 'Lisha's own desires, he -gave a cheerful whistle of consent and followed Gilbert through the -partly roofed grape arbor that made a passageway between the post-office -and the sloped roofed house of Gilbert's forefathers, that stood well -back in the garden with its porch facing the hill road. - -"Nobody'll see the lights this time of night," criticised 'Lisha, as -Gilbert, mustering an array of six sperm-oil lamps and three sturdy -pewter candlesticks, proceeded to distribute them between the various -rooms, not forgetting the icy "spare chamber" upstairs, or the -"foreroom" at the right of the front door with its scriptural -engravings, bright three-ply carpet, and melodeon. - -"That's as may be," Gilbert answered, while he regulated a wick, stiff -from lack of use, "but they'll be there all the same, and we'll know it -anyhow. What'll you have? There's beans and brown bread been in the oven -all afternoon, besides apple pie, crullers, biscuits, and spice snaps in -the pantry. I think this time o' night when we're wakeful anyway, we -might as well have hot coffee to mix and blend the vittles and put some -ginger in us. Mebbe you'd prefer hard cider, but since I found the stuff -was tangling the feet of some good neighbors, I haven't kept any about. -Yes, get a pail of fresh water while I grind the coffee; you can never -get the flavor, Mary always said, without fresh-drawn water come to its -first boil." - -To have seen the neatness of the kitchen, pantry, and long, low bedroom -that ran across the back of both, no one would have supposed that the -house had been without the touch of a woman's hand for nine years. To be -sure, at the critical periods of spring and fall cleaning the -postmaster's sister, Satira Pegrim, a bustling widow of forty, came down -from her little hill farm to officiate. Why she did not stay on and keep -house for her brother had been a subject of much speculation during the -year after the baby Marygold had followed her young mother. But though -Gilbert said nothing, they came to understand that without the child to -care for there was not sufficient work to keep in check Mrs. Pegrim's -nervous energy, which found vent in a species of incessant reminiscent -sympathy that poor Gilbert could not bear. - -When the only love of a silent man's life comes upon him when he is -nearly forty, fairly sweeping him from his feet, and in less than three -years wife and the child just forming her first words are snatched away, -leaving him deaf at heart, work is the only consoler that can gain even -his ear. So Gilbert had baked and swept and garnished, kept the -geraniums and the calla lilies and pink flowering "Gypsey" in the -windows, and a white spread upon the bed, and the hooded mahogany -cradle-cover of pink and white basket-pattern patchwork, as it had been -during those years. - -As Gilbert added an armful of wood to the fire in the cooking stove that -was set in the wide chimney place, and opened the iron door of the -brick oven at the side, the bright light threw against the opposite wall -his somewhat remarkable silhouette. He was fully six feet tall with -close-cut, iron-gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and long, gray beard that -reached his waist, and so frequently got in his way that he twisted it -up and fastened it under his chin with an elastic band, or hairpin, as -upon the present occasion. Gilbert had craved education, but lacked the -strength to force the opportunity, though his reading had nourished a -gentle sentiment in him, and better speech than is often found in New -Englanders of his surroundings. - -When 'Lisha had filled the kettle, the two men lighted their pipes, and -slipping off their clumsy shoes, in unison, spread feet covered by blue -yarn socks before the open front of the stove and, puffing comfortably, -drifted into desultory talk. - -"It's mighty queer that John Angus, leading man in this town and his -folks Yankee all through after they stopped being Scotch, should stand -for slavery," mused 'Lisha. "Do you suppose he's got any reason other -than his usual one of taking the off side of things?" - -"He has big cotton interests for one thing," said Gilbert; "otherwise, -who can tell why he does this or that? Why does he hate me? Because he -can't drive me off the earth, I take it. We played together as boys, but -I've never presumed on that. His father left him fully two hundred acres -of land, mine left me three; but it stood something like a nose on the -face of his holding, coming in the south front of it. He seemed to -think all he had to do was offer me money for my home; he thought I had -no right to love the place where I was born, but that he had. Once or -twice I've been on the point of yielding, but never since it became the -home of my wife and child." - -"That's why, then, he did all he could to keep you from getting the -post-office?" - -"I reckon so, and now I've got it, he has all his mail sent to Westboro -to keep down the receipts." - -"Whew--!" whistled 'Lisha. "I didn't think he'd spite himself that far." - -"Well," replied Gilbert, "I don't know but at bottom I'm sorry for him. -He's got a grand place here, a city home, and money; he's been senator, -and, they say, could have been governor; but he's all alone up there -without love or kin." - -"He had a dreadful pretty wife, and pleasant spoken. I remember selling -her quail and partridge every fall of the year." - -"Yes; when she first came home, she was not over twenty, and most as -pretty as my Mary. He met her when he was travelling in Europe, the Miss -Feltons said. She was there learning to sing or something. I heard her -sing once up where the end of their garden stops short and the ground -drops to my bit. It was just like the voice of the last wood robin that -keeps singing till after dark, and then quits sudden as if he was -lonesome. After living up there for ten years, she, that at first had a -laughing face and skin like a peach, grew thin and white as marble, and -then all of a sudden, she left him and died away in England, they say, -about a year ago. Some claim he was always reproaching her because she -was childless; others, that once when he was away, she went to the -midsummer ball up at Felton Manor against his wish and danced with a -nephew of Mr. Esterbrook's so beautifully that folks spoke of it until -it got round to him. He'd never let her dance before, so nobody knew she -could. Then next Sabbath the young man walked from church with her. - -"I well remember the day she went, it's less than two years since. There -was no running about it; she came down the hill in her carriage as if -she was only going on a short journey. As she passed the shop, she -plucked the coachman by the coat to stop him and came in to ask me to -fit a key to her watch. I remember the watch too, small and thin, with a -flower on the back in diamonds. Oh, yes, Angus was generous enough, and -kept her well in clothes and jewels. - -"All of a sudden she said, 'Mr. Gilbert, I'm going away and never coming -back, and there's nobody to miss me or be sorry.' - -"I was struck all of a heap, for I'd always liked her and spoke my mind, -which added to his dislike of me, but I knew by her face she meant what -she said. She looked like a crumpled roseleaf, so young and frail, that -before I knew it, I had taken her cold little hands in mine and was -telling her that _I_ should miss her, and that I never should forget the -soft white slip made with her own hands she sent for Marygold to go to -sleep in, or how she came to comfort me in face of John Angus's -dislike. 'If ever I can do you a good turn, it's all I'd ask,' I said to -her. - -"With that, she put her poor thin arms about my shoulders, looked me -straight in the face, and said, 'Yes, I believe you would,' and pulling -my head down, kissed me on the forehead as if I'd been her father. -Before I got my wits again, she was in her carriage and away, and now -she's dead and gone. They say that the Miss Feltons have heard that John -Angus is to be married again this spring to a woman as rich as he is, -the daughter of somebody high up in New York life. So I suppose he'll -raise a grand family now, and poor little roseleaf is forgotten." - -"Hi there! the water's biled over," cried 'Lisha, and soon the subtle -aroma of good coffee filled the kitchen, and the men drew the table -toward the stove before sitting down to their supper, for in spite of -the rousing fire, the room was draughty. - -Three clocks that hung in a row between dresser and chimney, which were -undergoing the delicate process of being regulated, struck twelve with -different emphases and in three different keys before Gilbert had made a -bed for his guest upon the wide lounge by the chimney-corner, and the -two men went about the house to put out the lamps. - -"What's that?" said Gilbert, pausing as they came down the creaking back -stairs. - -"Just a log of wood rolling off the heap on the stoop, I reckon," -answered 'Lisha. - -"There isn't any wood there; I fetched it all in," said Gilbert, giving -a decided start, as the noise was repeated and this time resolved itself -into a rhythmic knocking on the outer door. - -'Lisha strode through the kitchen, picking up the poker on his way, and -threw open the door. At first he saw nothing, the change from light to -darkness was so sudden; then something white in the shadow beside the -door caught his attention. - -"It's only a dog," he thought; yet as training had made him cautious, he -called, "Bring the lantern," to Gilbert, who had stopped to pull on his -coat. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE WRONG AT HIS DOOR - - -As the lantern held by Gilbert flashed upon the furry object, 'Lisha, -who was bending over it, jumped back as though he had been shot, crying, -"Good God, Gilbert, it isn't a dog; I reckon it's a child!" - -At the same time he gathered up the bundle, and, almost trampling -Gilbert in his haste, strode into the kitchen, where he laid it on the -table. - -The outer wrapping was a well-worn buffalo-robe, and from between its -folds a small, white-mittened hand was visible. - -For a moment the two men stood side by side, speechless with -astonishment; then Gilbert began to unfold the robe with fingers that -trembled so he could scarcely direct them. Inside the skin was an afghan -of soft wool tied crosswise, while in the depths of this nest lay a -child, wrapped from foot to head in coat and cap of white coney, even -the face being hidden by a knitted Shetland veil. The little form was so -still that Gilbert dreaded to touch it, but 'Lisha, having pulled -himself together, lifted the veil, disclosing softly rounded, pink -cheeks and red lips slightly parted in regular, if rather heavy, -breathing. This action disturbed the sleeper without waking her, for -she relaxed the arm that had been pressed close against her breast, and -from under it a tiny puppy sprawled out, dragging with it a large -handkerchief in which it had been wrapped, as if to make a doll of it. -He was not an aristocrat of the dog world, but one of those waifs that, -decorated with a bit of ribbon, are sold on city street corners for a -dollar, the appeal of their youth, added to the speculative element in -all of us, finding ready purchasers for them. - -The puppy, tawny and roughish as to coat, having one ear that stuck up -while the other lopped, and the keenest of eyes, after licking the face -and the long-lashed lids of the child without getting a response, -tumbled to the edge of the table and began wagging his ridiculous rat -tail and making friendly advances to the men. Seeing that even the -puppy's rough caresses did not waken the baby, Gilbert raised one of the -eyelids gently, and then after holding his face close, whispered to -'Lisha: "Just as I thought, she's drugged with paregoric; we'll have to -rouse her even if she is scared of us and makes a time. I well remember -how it was with Marygold when sister Pegrim, not having her glasses, -gave her a large instead of a small spoon of cough syrup by mistake. -I'll wash her face and see if I can't liven her up. Just pull that -rocker over here, 'Lisha, and give me the tin basin of water." - -As he talked, Gilbert was undoing the coat and cap from which came the -head of a child of about a year, covered with a mass of hair that lay in -close golden rings, with here and there a tinge of copper, in strange -contrast to the dark lashes and eyebrows. - -From the moment his eyes had rested on her, Gilbert had unconsciously -said _she_, for every curve and line was feminine. Yet even with closed -eyes, there was nothing doll-like about her, while there was almost a -suggestion of resolution about the mouth corners. - -"Now, precious, wake up and look at the pretty light," crooned Gilbert, -holding her with awkward hands, against his shoulder, so that her head -came above it, yet in a way that no man would have done who had not held -his own child. - -Presently, the heavy eyelids drew upward, and then after the -consciousness of light became complete, she looked about the room, gave -a little cry of delight, and held out her hands when she saw the puppy, -rounding her lips into a sound like wow-wow; but as her eyes rested upon -big, ugly 'Lisha, her chin quivered, her cooing voice trailed off into a -heart-broken wail, and she hid her face in Gilbert's neck. - -What the confiding touch meant to the lonely man, only he and his Maker -knew. It thrilled him to his finger-tips, awakened life springs that he -believed forever dry, and tears, unknown to him these nine years, became -a possibility, but not while 'Lisha stood there gaping at him with -hanging jaw. In a few moments the wailing stopped, and she began to look -about once more. - -"Fetch me a cup of water, 'Lisha; mebbe she's thirsty." - -As he turned to carry out Gilbert's directions, the young lady began to -smack her lips and show by her bodily motions that she knew what the -word "thirsty" and a cup in sight promised. - -As Gilbert helped to guide it to her mouth with one hand, the corners of -her lips, assisted by a little quiver of the nose, expressed -unmistakable disgust at finding only water. - -"Guess she's looking for milk same as kittens do," suggested 'Lisha, -tiptoeing to the table and peering into an empty pitcher. "Great -snakes!" his favorite ejaculation, "I spilled the last drop into my -coffee. The pup wants some, too, I reckon," as the queer little beast, -nose in air and tail wagging furiously, seemed bound to climb up his -trousers leg. - -"Of course she does, the lamb!" said Gilbert, holding her from him upon -his knee, the better to look over her. "But where is it to come from? -It's half an hour past midnight and I don't like to wake up the -neighbors," he mused. - -"Got a small open kettle?" asked 'Lisha, rummaging in the pantry. "I've -found it; now do you fix up a place for her to sleep while I fetch her -supper," he continued, with the air of one to whom the care of strange -lady babies was an everyday occurrence, when, truth be told, he had -never before come in contact with any young thing more delicate than a -calf or a long-legged colt. - -"Don't go to the Bakers'," pleaded Gilbert; "I know they're the nearest, -but Mrs. Baker'll come back with you for sure, and I want time to turn -around before any women folks bear down on me." - -"Nope, I'm not going to confide in any female, least it's Brooks's red -cow. I milked for them when the old man broke his leg last fall, 'n' the -cow knows me. It's only a quarter of a mile up the road; cow barn has no -windows on house side; key's kept under a mustard box on the -window-sill. Baker took his gun to Bridgeton Saturday to get her -cleaned. Not a bit of danger, and I'll explain to 'em to-morrow. Back in -no time." - -So, jerking out his words with gestures as mysterious as if he were -going to commit a desperate crime, 'Lisha went out through the back -hallway, lest opening the front door should let in too much air. - -He had no sooner gone than Gilbert's whole attitude changed. Settling -the little girl comfortably on his knees, he began to scrutinize her -clothing carefully, babbling a string of baby talk that would have been -almost unintelligible to the uninitiated, but that seemed very soothing -and reassuring to the child, who, after wriggling for a few minutes, as -though determined to get to her feet, suddenly discovered Gilbert's -beard, which he had knotted up to get it out of the way of the cooking. -It was fastened with a large shell hairpin that he had probably picked -up in the post-office. Fascinated by this unusual object, she clutched -at it with both hands, gave a crow of delight, and began jerking up and -down on his knee as if riding on a hobby-horse, treating Gilbert's beard -as its mane. Next spying the puppy on the floor, she stiffened herself -and prepared to slide down to him. - -"All right," crooned Gilbert. "Let's see if the little lammy can stand? -Yes, but not so very well," he added, as, after taking a single step, -she doubled up and almost sat on the pup. - -"Now we'll sit her on the lounge to play with doggy, while daddy gets -her bed fixed." - -The word "daddy" slipped from his lips unconsciously, as he pulled the -high-backed sofa out from the wall and propped the child up with some -husk pillows and a comforter. Then he stole across to the bedroom where, -after choosing a key from the chain that was fastened to his pocket, he -unlocked a high chest of drawers still keeping his eye on the lounge and -its occupants. - -"She's somewhere about a year, I reckon," he said, talking to himself, -after the fashion of those who are much alone. "She's bigger than -Marygold was at fourteen months, but not so clever on her feet. As for -talking, they're something alike; Marygold only said 'Daddy' and 'Puss,' -and I guess I can piece out some words from what _she_ says when I get -the time. Wow-wow means dog plain enough. I must get her undressed -before 'Lisha comes back; he's all right, but too rough in his ways for -handling a lady baby, and that's what the little one is." - -Having taken some clothes from the drawers,--a pair of knitted socks, a -little night-dress of yellow shaker flannel, and a quilted wrapper in -gay-flowered print, all smelling of camphor and their long, pent-up -years in the chest,--he spread them on a chair by the stove to air and -warm. - -Meanwhile, the child had nestled back among the pillows and was half -dozing, the puppy clasped tight in her arms. Going once more to the -bedroom, Gilbert stood a moment before the quaint hooded cradle, made up -ready for occupancy from spread to pilch, the cradle from out of which -he himself had gazed alternately at the leaves on the wall paper and the -leaves against the sky, dreaming in knowledge after the manner of -babies. Then lifting the cradle, he carried it into the kitchen, -negotiating the doorway with difficulty, for his burden was heavy and -the rockers wide of angle to prevent the overthrow of the occupant. -Pushing his hand between the sheets and finding them clammy to the -touch, he pulled them off and brought others from the inexhaustible -chest. - -Then came the undressing of the lady baby herself, which was done as -dexterously as a woman might, for Gilbert's fingers, used to the -handling of mere specks of machinery, did not fumble with strings, -buttons, or the intricacies of shield pins. Moreover, memory crept into -his finger-tips and guided the almost-forgotten task, even as feet that -once have trodden a daily path, returning to it in the dark, after the -lapse of a lifetime, follow each rise and fall. - -Piling the clothes she had worn upon the table, he held the little feet -in his big, rough palm, warming them, rocking gently the while. With a -sleepy friendliness, the child nestled to him; then, twisting as though -something pressed uncomfortably on her flesh, pushing her hand into the -neck of the knitted shirt that Gilbert had left on for extra warmth, she -began tugging at something, looking into his face and patting his hand -as if to ask his help. - -"What is it, lammy? A tight string that chokes? Let daddy feel." - -Drawing up a chain of intricate links, his fingers closed upon a thin -locket or watch, he could not tell which, as it would not open. He -unfastened the chain and put it with the heap of clothes, as the door -opened and 'Lisha, fairly blue with the cold, some of which rushed in -with him, returned with the milk. The trip from the Brooks farm had -cooled it sufficiently to make it palatable and this time the child took -a long drink, sighing with satisfaction when she paused for breath, with -her four tiny teeth clenched on the thick china cup to prevent its being -taken away. - -Then with unmistakable gestures, she asked that the puppy might also -have some. She sat blinking and keeping her eyes open with difficulty -watching until his little elastic stomach began to grow heavy, and -rummaging a bit of carpet into a sort of nest, he settled for the night, -half under the stove. This did not suit the lady baby; she wished to -hold the puppy and began to show a decided bit of temper, until Gilbert, -lifting her from the lounge, carried her on his shoulder to the bedroom, -saying, "Hold crying a minute, lammy, 'til daddy sees what he can find -in the drawer. Yes, I thought it was here;" and the child, hugging a rag -doll flat faced and faded, allowed herself to be tucked into the cradle -without a murmur, and fell into natural sleep, the deep hood of the -cradle completely shutting off the light. - -'Lisha gave a sigh of relief that was almost tragic. "She's safe off to -sleep and we ain't dropped her, nor broke her, thank the Lord! Well, -Gilbert, what do you think?" and the giant, spreading his hands behind -him, backed toward the stove. - -"Think? Why, I reckon, after Marygold, she's the sweetest little one I -ever set eyes on, and in some ways she's remarkably like her, 'specially -the way she sets her chin,--" - -"Great snakes! I don't mean that," snorted 'Lisha. "How do you think she -come here? Who brought her and why? Don't it strike you as anything -unusual that a child of her age, all togged out fine, should be left on -a porch in the middle of a perishing cold night?" - -"Of course, of course, 'Lisha, it's unusual, and I reckon that's half -the reason that I've been in a daze ever since; that, and feeling -something warm and small on my knee. Now she's safe and asleep, it's our -duty to investigate and let her people know her whereabouts soon as I've -made up the morning mail. Draw up to the table and we'll find if there's -any marks on her clothes. - -"To my thinking, it's a case of kidnapping," Gilbert continued, "either -for money, or perhaps spite. Even parents do queer things to outface -each other sometimes. Oh, you needn't shake your head, I _know_; there's -a chance to see a deal of life in a post-office. - -"Whoever was making away with the lady baby likely got scared, or was -sorry for the job, so left her here in a public place where she'd be -soon found." - -"Where'd they come from _last_?" persisted 'Lisha, but received no -answer, as Gilbert was examining each garment, fingering them carefully, -inch by inch, and though 'Lisha did likewise, no marks of any sort, not -even an embroidered initial, could they discover. - -The large locket of heavily chased gold, the pattern much worn on the -sides, after many efforts at prying, at last flew open, purely by -accident when its secret spring was touched. Within, the picture of a -young woman seemed to look so directly in their faces, that both men -exclaimed. The face was that of a girl of eighteen or nineteen. Dark -brows and lashes guarded large hazel eyes, the nose was a trifle -tip-tilted, and this, together with the parted lips, gave the impression -that she was about to speak, while a very firm chin lent decision to the -youthful roundness of the face. Exquisitely shaded hair, in tints of -gold, copper, and ash, curved back from the broad forehead, and was -loosely braided and coiled about the small head, while resting lightly, -half sidewise on the braids, was a wreath of poppies, not the flaming -oriental flowers that suggest sensuous drowsiness, but delicate, -rosy-flushed blossoms with petals frail as the wings of a night moth. - -The two men did not analyze the face that looked frankly into theirs, -they only knew that it was beautiful. Presently, the light caught upon -the inside of the cover of the locket showing, imperfectly, letters -engraved thereon. - -"Get me my watch-glass from the work bench," said Gilbert, his hands -trembling with expectation. But this revealed only a single word and -date,--"Poppea--1850." - -"Poppea! what's that, a place?" asked 'Lisha, turning the locket this -way and that in the hope of finding more. - -"It's a woman's name if I remember rightly, and I think I've met it in -Mr. Plutarch's book or some history. The wife of one of the Cæsars or -some one of importance. I'll look it up to-morrow. Anyway, the picture -is done on ivory like the one of Miss Felton's mother that she wears in -a brooch. Some said it was only made of tea-cup china, so one day, when -she was waiting for me to weigh a package, I made bold to ask, and she -said, 'No, Mr. Gilbert, it is painted on ivory and is a work of art.' So -I judged only the well-to-do can lay claim to this sort, which carries -out what I say, as I did before, the lady baby has been kidnapped. Now -lets us turn in. You go in my room and I'll take the shake-down on the -lounge and keep a watch on the lady baby." - -'Lisha, pulling himself stiffly to his feet to obey, stumbled over the -corner of the buffalo-robe that had been pushed under the table and -remained unnoticed. - -"I wonder if this thing has anything to tell on the subject," he said, -spreading it wrong side up on the floor and scrutinizing the patched and -faded lining slowly. - -"Look here, Gilbert! Just look at that patch there in the northeast -corner, that piece of felt with moon and star figgers on it! 'Long about -Christmas, Dr. Morewood was up at the farm in a sleigh from the stable -at Westboro, his own being in the shop for new irons. He'd throwd the -robe over his horse, and it slipping off, it got trampled, so he asked -mother to take a stitch in it. But the hole being big, she threw in a -hasty patch made from the end of an old table cover that had been in our -setting room since I was knee high to a toad. What you're looking at is -that patch." - -"You'd reckon the party that brought the child had a team from Beers's -stable then," said Gilbert, now all eagerness. "If so, why didn't we -hear the rumble of it on the ice, and how would they account for the -robe when they got back?" - -"As for the team, it might have been a sleigh with hushed bells; we -fellows up our way often fix them like that when we want to take the -girls out riding on the sly and the old folks asleep. As for their going -back, yer running on too fast; that's to be found to-morrow. That we've -got a clew right here's enough for you now. One o'clock! Great snakes! -it's to-morrow right now, and me due up home to milk at six and you to -pack up the first mail down. Say, Gilbert, don't you want me to stop at -Mis' Pegrim's as I go up and hustle her down for the day until this -child business is settled up? You'll have your hands overflowin', what -with her and it and all the people that'll be in ponderin' and -advisin'." - -"Well," replied Gilbert, his hands working nervously, as he twisted and -untwisted the long beard from which the lady baby had pulled the pin, -"under the circumstances, I guess it'll be best, and I'd be obliged if -you'd hook up and fetch her yourself. 'Tisn't necessary for her to stop -and talk to every fence post on the way, either. As to the locket, -that's most likely _her_ mother's picture; we'll keep quiet about it, -lest, being valuable, it's wrongly claimed." - -Soon comfortable snores sounded from the inner room. Gilbert, wrapping a -quilt about him, lay down upon the lounge without undressing. Sleep -would not come; instead, scenes and people of long ago flitted through -the room as across a stage; the wind from chimney, keyholes, and -window-sash supplying speech. Presently the light of the old moon, that -would loiter in the west until after sunrise, crept in the window -through the geraniums and reaching out long fingers toward the cradle, -seemed to Gilbert's burning eyes to draw it from him. Getting up, he -looked at the child, rosy with sleep, still clasping Marygold's faded -doll, turned the cradle once more into the shadow, and kneeling by it -with his arms clasped over the hood, half thought, half whispered, "I -can't tell how or why, only that a child is here, but if to make up for -my home-staying, as he wrote, this is that other wrong for me to right -at my own door,--I thank Thee, Lord!" Then quickening the dying fire, -Gilbert finished his vigil before it in Mary's rocking-chair. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE NEXT DAY - - -Mrs. Jason Pegrim needed no urging in the matter of making haste to go -to her brother's assistance. During the nine years that she had lived in -her farm-house on the hill, her one desire had been to get back to the -village, and ever since her brother had been appointed postmaster she -had spent many sleepless nights in fruitless schemes for bringing it to -pass. For if the clock-maker's little shop had been a place of social -opportunities to the alert widow, how much wider a field could she find -in the post-office? - -Now the opportunity had almost dropped out of a dream, as she told -'Lisha Potts, when she hurried to admit him in the early dawn, her -toilet being so far from complete that hairpins bristled from her mouth -and rendered still more incoherent her announcement. "There now, and -folks say there's nothing in dreams! To be sure, the man in my dream -last night that came to price the heifer was dark and you're sandy, and -while I went to lead her out, he stole my best spoons out of the -clock-case, and slipped out of the back door, which, of course, no Potts -would do, even in a dream. But where it comes out true is that a man -did come, which is a matter for thankfulness, the first that's opened -that gate in a week." - -As 'Lisha explained his errand, his native shrewdness making him tell as -little as possible, brief as the time was, Mrs. Pegrim finished the -securing of the doorknob coil of hair at the back and freed her tongue -for better action. - -"Brother Oliver has his hands full and wants me to come down and help -him out for a week? You're sure he doesn't feel sick and doesn't want to -allow it? Or mebbe he's minded to get the spring cleaning done early; if -so, he's too forehanded, for March cleaning won't hold over till fall, -not but what I'm glad to go down and get three miles nearer to the -news." - -While her tongue flew, her hands and feet were not idle, for, shoving -'Lisha before her into the kitchen, Mrs. Pegrim quickly assembled a -pick-up breakfast, of which she motioned him to eat in expressive -pantomime, while continuing her questions. - -"Do you reckon he'll want me for more than a week? If I thought he -would, I'd put in my Sunday pelerine, but if not, I'd hate to muss it. -Didn't specify any length of time, only said fetch her down? That's like -a man. Anyhow, I'll tell neighbor Selleck to feed my fowls and the cow -and heifer until he hears contrary, besides which, you'll have to get -him to milk for you this morning if you're going to drive me down. -Oliver must be in some sort of strait if you can't even wait to milk and -do your chores first." - -Having packed a capacious carpet-bag, drawn down the gayly painted paper -window-shades, emptied and dried the tea-kettle, and made sure that not -an ash was at large on the hearth, for she still cooked in the open -chimney over a bed of wood embers by the aid of pot hook, crane, and -trammel, Satira joined 'Lisha at the table and poured herself a cup of -coffee. She had barely raised it to her lips when she set it down so -suddenly that the coffee splashed upon her cherry-colored bonnet -strings. - -"'Lisha Potts," she adjured solemnly, "I know what it is! Oliver is -going to take a second and he wants me to put things in shape! And why -shouldn't he if he wishes? He's got a tidy sum laid by and a trade and a -position under government. Of course I'll go and help him, not but what -a widow must feel, losing her only brother twice, so to speak, but if I -suspicioned who she is, I could ride down easier, and resign my spirits -better if I knew it wasn't widow Baker." - -"It isn't marrying anybody, so you're way off the track. It's just -unexpected company that Oliver ain't got time to entertain suitable, and -the quicker we get down there, the sooner you'll know all about it," -said 'Lisha, indulging in what for him was a wild flight of fancy. - -After the Sellecks had received instructions as to her live stock, -Satira Pegrim relapsed into a silence that lasted for almost a mile. - -"How much company is there?" asked Satira, launching the question -suddenly in the hope of taking 'Lisha unawares. - -"Two!" he replied, a gleam of amusement flitting across his grim visage. - -"Males or females?" - -"One of each." - -"Married couple?" - -"Nope." - -"Brother and sister?" - -"I reckon not." - -"Just friends, then?" - -"I guess you've hit it now, pretty near, though I should call them two -down to Gilbert's more sort of travelling companions that was on the way -to growin' real friendly." More than this, Satira Pegrim could not -extract, and she contented herself by weaving romance about the unknown -couple, paying no attention to the beauty of the morning, wherein every -ice-covered twig glistened in the sun. - -'Lisha pulled up at the post-office-house door, and after steering Mrs. -Pegrim carefully along the slippery path to the side porch, having -suddenly made up his mind to stay down at the village for another day, -he led the horse and bobbing two-wheeled chaise to Gilbert's barn that -stood at the end of the lot against the high bank that made John Angus's -boundary. - -The side door being open, Mrs. Pegrim went in without knocking, found no -one in either kitchen, bedroom, or pantry, though the general confusion -told its own story; as she almost fell over the cradle, its bedding -tumbled about as if to air, the last straw was added to the mystery. -With a gasp, combined of suppressed speech and astonishment, she seized -her bag and going up to the room over the kitchen that she had -previously occupied, donned a gown of stout indigo print, and throwing -over head and shoulders a wonderful shawl of her own knitting, a -marvellous blend of gray and purple stripes, resolutely crossed the -passage between house and post-office, and entering by the workshop -door, peered through into the office in an effort to see without being -seen. - -An unusual number of men for the time of the morning when chores are -most pressing stood about the stove, while two women, one being the -objectionable widow Baker, were actually holding an animated -conversation with Gilbert through the delivery window of the beehive, -standing a-tiptoe in their endeavors to see some object within the -sacred precinct. At the same time Mrs. Baker exclaimed--"The darling!" -in a wheezy tone that was meant to be confidential. - -To the searching eye of his sister, Gilbert looked completely unnerved. -His hair, usually so sleek and divided low over the left ear, stood on -end; his beard was buttoned under his collarless blue flannel shirt, -giving his face a curiously chopped-off appearance, while his hands -shook as he fumbled with the letters, and he continually cast furtive -glances behind him. - -Finally, Satira Pegrim made a dive through the group of men, and, -without appearing to see the women, slipped through the door at the back -of the sorting bench, only to trip over a soft something on the floor, -and suddenly find herself kneeling and very much jarred upon the edge of -a bright patchwork quilt, in the centre of which sat the lady baby, -alternately feeding herself and the puppy with a thick slice of bread -which she held butter side down. In the dull morning light, the child -looked more pathetic than pretty, for she had an unmistakable snuffly -cold, and a pair of tears that had been quivering on her long lashes -rolled down her cheeks as she looked up at Mrs. Pegrim. - -The puppy gave a shrill bark and began to play tug-of-war with a corner -of the cherished shawl. At the sound Gilbert turned, a look of infinite -relief spreading over his face when he saw his sister. - -"Thank the Lord you've come," he jerked out over his shoulder as he -handed widow Baker ten three-cent stamps that she had bought merely to -prolong the interview. "Take 'em right back to the house and I'll come -over soon as I can. She's got a cold and is wheezy; if you can't fix her -up, I calculate 'Lisha'd better go for the doctor." - -"Yes, I will, Oliver; the minute I set eyes on her it flashed through -me, lard and nutmeg, on the chest, that's what she needs. But who _be_ -they, 'nd how'd they come here without parents is what I'd like to know; -that is, the child, I mean, for lots of puppies don't have any." - -"That's what we don't know and have got to find out. Didn't 'Lisha -explain?" - -"Not a word, only rigmarolled about company." - -"'Lisha," called Gilbert to the backwoodsman, who had now come in, "will -you go over home with sister Pegrim? She wants to talk to you 'bout last -night." - -"I reckon if it isn't against the law, I'd ruther step in there and dish -out the rest of them letters," said 'Lisha; so brother and sister, the -lady baby muffled in the quilt, and wow-wow nipping at the heels of -Gilbert's carpet slippers, went together. - -The door had no sooner closed behind them than the men began questioning -'Lisha all together, propounding their theories of the event before -which the war news had temporarily paled; for never, even in the memory -of Selectman Morse, the oldest of them, had a baby been abandoned in the -township,--much less a well-grown child of a year. - -Mr. Morse, in view of his position, appointed two of the men present to -take up the clew; for in these good old days of New England, the First -Selectman was virtually mayor of the township and was so chosen. - -'Lisha, by reason of his being the first to discover the child, was -deputed to go to the stable at Westboro with the buffalo-robe, after -which the course of the search would depend upon what the stableman -could tell. - -"Gilbert, are you willing that the child should stay here while we -investigate?" the Selectman asked when the postmaster returned and -'Lisha had driven off to Westboro; "or would you rather she were handed -over to proper authorities right now?" - -"Who might those be?" asked Gilbert, by way of reply. - -"Well, now, that raises a question of some moment," said the Selectman, -fitting the tips of his fingers together precisely and making a flywheel -of his thumbs, at the same time adjusting his upper teeth in place with -a clicking sound. That it was the wandering disposition of these teeth -that had prevented their owner from becoming an orator in the cause of -patriotism, he firmly believed. - -"If the child's an orphan foundling, she goes to the county asylum; if -merely abandoned by worthless parents, she goes to the poor-house free; -while if she can be attributed to a living male parent, he must pay her -board either to the town or her mother." - -"It appears to me," said Gilbert, moistening his lips nervously, and -dangerous gleams shooting from his keen gray eyes, "that as you don't -know where to send her, and you've no authority to take her, she will -stay right where she was left! And now, boys, while I'm obliged to ye -all for your interest, this matter isn't federal business, nor connected -with this post-office, so if there's anything to say, come 'round to the -house later on and have it out. Under anything that may come out, the -child is innocent, and it might come pretty hard a score of years from -now if she knew she was made light of by you fellows." Gilbert's voice -broke at this juncture, and the boys were looking at each other -sheepishly when a team rattled up to the door and 'Lisha and Beers, the -Westboro liveryman, came in together, having met at the lower end of -town. - -"They hired a sleigh from Beers's all right and hushed the bells," cried -'Lisha, triumphantly. - -"Who?" chorused the boys. - -"The man and woman who brought the child here, of course." - -"I didn't say it was a man _and_ a woman," put in Beers, cutting off a -generous quid of tobacco and passing the remainder around, as though -preparing for a social occasion that would be a strain on the juices of -speech. - -"This here was the way of it," he said, settling himself within easy -range of the box of sawdust by the stove, while Gilbert came from the -hive to lean over the case where a collection of stationery, -knickknacks, cigars, and packages of lozenges was kept. - -"You know how late the mail-train was last night, and how it stormed? -Well, the last train was late by that much too; after waiting 'round a -spell I came home and I made up my mind I wouldn't send a team over to -the depot again but trust to any folks that wanted one coming over, for -it was near midnight. I suppose I must have dozed off by the stove in -the office, because the first thing I knew, a man stood there by the -fire stamping his feet to warm them, the spring bell on the door having -waked me. 'I've got off at the wrong station, intending to go on to -Harley's Mills,' says he in a voice like he'd an awful cold; 'can I get -a team to drive my wife over? She's at the depot.' - -"'A team you can have,' says I, 'but I've not a driver I could send out -to-night. What part are you going to?' - -"'To the post-office,' says he. 'Maybe you'd let me put up the team -there and bring it back in the morning. I'll pay you ten dollars down -for security,' says he, coughing and acting tired like. - -"Thinks I, this isn't any night for horse thieves and if I give him -Spunky Pete, it'll be a safe risk, for he won't go but just such a ways -from the stable when he balks and bolts back. - -"'All right,' says I, 'what kind of a team do you want, chaise or -sleigh?' He thought a minute and says, 'A sleigh'll jar less a night -like this, and if you've got any old rag of a robe, just pile her in.' -Well, he started off all right toward the depot, the bells jingling -nice, and pretty soon I see the sleigh come back with somebody else -within and go up the turnpike this way, and so I went upstairs and -turned into bed. It was after I'd got into a good first sleep when -something seemed to be pounding me in a dream and I started up with wife -pulling my sleeve and calling, 'There's somebody pounding away on the -front stoop and yelling like mad. Do you suppose one of the mules could -have broke loose?' - -"'One of the mules? That's Spunky Pete and no other,' says I, tumbling -into my clothes and grabbing a lantern. He always pounds and screeches -that way if I don't give him his feed first of the bunch. Yes, sure -enough, there was Pete pounding away on the porch. At first I thought -he'd served them some trick and upset them, but when my eyes fell on the -lines, I knew different; they were tied to the dash rail with a bit of -string! - -"That made me suspicious and I looked Pete over as I led him to the -stable. For a cold night he had surely sweat more than the short run -warranted. Then I noticed the bells didn't jingle--the string on the -girth was gone (I found it after under the seat) and the two big ones on -the shafts were hushed by being wrapped in paper. 'I wonder what's up,' -says I, 'the horse has come back safe, but there's something amiss -somewhere. A man doesn't give up ten dollars to ride three miles on any -straight errand.' So this morning I started up to find if any company -had come up to Mr. Gilbert's, and I met 'Lisha here with the buffalo, -which, I declare, I hadn't missed, and he told me the rest." - -"Did you keep the bits of newspaper?" asked Gilbert. - -"Yes, they're down home; they're torn from _The Boston Traveller_ of -last Friday." - -"I wonder if any one took the milk freight down last night; it carries a -passenger car," ventured the Justice of the Peace. "Nobody, so far as -Mr. Binks the agent saw; he loaded on some milk, but the ticket-office -isn't open for that train," said 'Lisha. - -"Can you describe the man?" asked the Justice of the Peace, poising his -pencil. - -"That's just what I've been trying to do for myself," said the -liveryman. "Not suspecting anything, I wasn't particular, and he had a -dark cloth cap with a chin piece that pretty well covered his mouth. He -was short and thick-set, 'n' I think his eyebrows were light, but that's -about all, except that he had a long scar between the two first fingers -of his right hand. I noticed that when he slapped the ten-dollar note -down on the table." - -"He asked you how far it was to Harley's Mills Post-office?" said -Gilbert. "Then wherever they came from and whoever they are, they -_meant_ to leave the child here, it wasn't mere chance. Do you hear -that, all?" - -"Yes," answered the Justice of the Peace; "but as you've said that you -have no kin that she could come from, mightn't she be of some distant -kin Down East of old Curtis's, who didn't know he was dead? He'd had the -office about ever since there was one and was reputed rich, you know." - -Gilbert winced as though some one had rudely touched a vital spot, and -then, turning to the First Selectman, said quietly: "I don't know -whether it's law or not, but I think a notice should be put in the best -county paper. I reckon those from whom the child was stolen should have -as much chance to know of it as if one of us had found a good horse tied -at his gate. Then in a month's time, if there is no clew, other plans -can be made. Meantime, as it seems she was left here with intention, -sister Pegrim and I will look after her." - -"That's well said--liberal too, for a man of your years--with prices -what they are--" were some of the comments. - -"That'll do for the present," said the First Selectman, gathering his -gray long-shawl about him and steadying himself with his cane; "but we -have a mystery among us for the first time, boys, and we must not treat -it lightly. If Mr. Allan Pinkerton was not at this time needed by Mr. -Lincoln, I should vote that we put the case before him." - -Then, led by 'Lisha Potts, who announced that he was going to finish the -day by asking a few questions at the Bridgeton station, the group, -having already shortened their working day by a couple of hours, drifted -away. - -Oliver Gilbert watched them go, and mechanically took his seat before -the sorting table. He was dizzy from lack of sleep and the rush of many -emotions that he had almost forgotten he had ever felt before, blended -with others wholly new. His life had been slow in blossoming, the -crippled hip from his very childhood had kept him aloof and apart. Then -he had lived in the full for three years and twilight again fell around -him; for a while he had struggled against it, and then, as the neighbors -said, "become resigned." Now, everything was upheaved; work, his -consoler, lay on the bench untouched; the sun melted the ice from the -halyards, and yet he did not go to raise the flag of victory where it -must be seen from John Angus's windows. The hour struck and then the -next before noon; he did not even remember that he had not eaten -breakfast. Presently the outer door opened and a pair of small, heavily -shod feet clumped across to the delivery-window, through which their -owner could not look, even on tiptoes, and after waiting for a few -moments, the piping voice of a boy of six or so called, "It's me, Mr. -Gilbert. I've come over to see your little girl, please." - -Gilbert started from his revery and came toward the voice. "Oh, it's -you, is it, Hughey, and who told you about her, pray?" - -"Nobody told me 'xactly, but I heard Mr. Morse telling father and -mother, and I asked her if I might come right down, and she said yes. -You see, there wasn't any school this morning because it was too -slippery, but now it's all wet. Broken for spring, father says. See my -new rubber-boots, Mr. Gilbert; all red inside," and he held up one -sturdy leg. - -"As it's so close on to noon I guess I'll shut up, and we'll go in -together and see little missy. Isn't this about the time of day for a -barley stick, sonny?" said the postmaster, taking one from the glass -case as he passed. - -The kitchen was in its usual order; a boiled dinner was under way on the -stove, beneath which the puppy slept, while Mrs. Pegrim sat mending some -socks with the rocker drawn up close to the lounge upon which the lady -baby was enthroned and playing gayly with a string of spools. When she -saw Gilbert, she dropped them and tried to roll off the sofa to her -feet. - -"No, no!" said Mrs. Pegrim, pleasantly but decidedly, "it's too cold -down there for little girls." Her face flushed, puckered up to cry; -then, for some reason, she changed her mind and held out her arms. - -"So she knows daddy already, does she?" crooned Gilbert, "and here's a -little boy come to see her, the very first caller. Satira, this is Hugh -Oldys from the Mills--Richard Oldys's boy, you know." - -Richard Oldys was one of the representative men of this section of New -England. He had rebuilt the original Harley's Mills near the mouth of -the Moosatuck, for which the town had been named, and made them a great -distributing centre of flour and all grains. The land had come down to -his wife, whose mother had been a Harley and was, therefore, kin of the -Misses Felton, who also had Harley blood in the female line. While a man -of less wealth than John Angus, Oldys was so much more liberal with it, -so much broader in his sympathies and culture, that nothing of -importance was undertaken in the community without his advice and -sanction. As for his wife,--in that clannish and conservative little -town, almost old-world-like in its simplicity and loyalty to -tradition,--it was a belief that a real Harley could do no wrong. -Coupled with this, Pamela Oldys was a rare woman, almost too highly -keyed to the needs and wishes of others for her own peace, and wrapped -up in this boy Hugh, the only child that her frail health had allowed -her. - -Hugh surveyed the lady baby in silence for a moment, and then gravely -shook her hand, saying, "How do you do?" A crow came from the prettily -curved lips by way of answer, and she began a sort of game of -peek-a-boo, covering her face with her hands and then peeping out. -Evidently she had lived among responsive people. - -"I suppose God sent her the same as usual," remarked Hugh, in the most -matter-of-fact way. "She's nice and big though, being so new; they're -mostly blinky and queer at first, like kittens. We've never had a baby -at our house; they often have them next door, but not as nice as this -one." - -At this moment the puppy spied Hugh's rubber-boots that had been left at -the door, and made a dash for them, for if there is anything a young dog -loves, it is either shoe leather or shoe rubber. - -"Hi! there's a puppy. Is it yours, Mr. Gilbert? I had a puppy once and -it died, and father's going to buy me one of a better kind next -Christmas. I'll be seven then. There's so many cats around the mill -that I hope they won't scratch its eyes out." - -"That pup belongs to the lady baby," answered Gilbert, who was now -brushing his tousled hair in front of the mirror over the sink. - -"Did it come with her?" asked Hugh, eagerly. - -"It surely did; she had it right in her little arms," answered Gilbert, -busy with a collar button and not thinking ahead. - -"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Hugh, clapping his hands, "for now I know that -if dogs come from heaven, they must go back there too, and I was afraid -that my puppy would be dreadful lonely if he couldn't go where there -were little boys and girls, for he just loved them." - -Satira Pegrim looked at her brother with a horrified expression. Her -lips opened to speak, but something that she saw in his face made her -close them again. Whatever her feelings as a hard-shell Baptist upon the -future state of dogs might be, she did not propose to shorten her visit -to her brother by expressing them. - -"Have they got names yet?" asked Hugh, his attention now embarrassingly -divided between the lady baby and the pup. - -"No, sonny; that is, I'm not plumb sure, so I'm going to take time, say -until along about the first of the month, to think out a name for the -lady baby. As for the pup, suppose you help me out with that. Think up -all the names that's short and slick, and then we'll have a choosing -bee." - -"Dinner is ready," called Mrs. Pegrim from the pantry, where she was -slicing bread. "Won't you set up to the table, Hugh, and eat with us?" - -"I think I'd better go home now, mother didn't say anything about -dinner. Next time I come, I'm going to bring you something, lady baby," -Hugh said, gently kissing the dimpled hand she thrust into his face, -"and byme by, when you can walk, I'll bring you up to my house to see my -mother and lend you part of her, 'cause you've only got a daddy." - -"That's just it, at best there'll only be a daddy," murmured Gilbert, -drawing his chair to the table and eating as in a dream, in which the -wording of the notice for the papers was the chief theme, until he was -roused by a spoon pounding his hand vigorously, and found that the child -was seated close beside him in Marygold's high-chair, her eyes fastened -on his face. - -"Look a-here now, Oliver," said Satira Pegrim, resting her arms on her -elbows, with knife and fork raised in midair; "I've been thinking, -suppose'n the Oldys took a fancy to adopt her. Wouldn't that square up -everything for everybody just right? For it's plain to see that Hugh's -just achin' for a sister." - -Again the forbidding expression settled on Gilbert's face, but Satira -did not see it until too late. - -"Mrs. Pegrim, I don't know just how long you may be called to visit -here, but longer or shorter, recollect one thing, you'll have no call to -_think_ about my business nor to _talk_ about it to me, but just to keep -quiet." - -"Don't you want me to visit or have speech with the neighbors?" pleaded -Satira, her cheery voice dropping to a ludicrous whimper, as the vision -of social cups of tea flavored by neighborhood gossip began to fade. - -"I don't ask anybody to do what they manifestly according to nature -can't; I said _me_!" retorted Gilbert, about whose long forefinger the -lady baby had gripped her hand as a bird clings to its perch. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE FELTONS - - -A month crept by with warm rains at the end of it, and the spring called -the blood back to the pale tree-tops with a bound. - -Though the people of Harley's Mills did not by any means hibernate in -woodchuck fashion during winter, they did conserve their forces after -the habits of their thrifty forebears and did not light or heat any more -of their usually ample houses than was absolutely necessary. A strong -tie of kinship threaded the whole community. The stately residents of -Quality Hill and Westboro Road were often second and third cousins of -the owners of the lonely hill farms, of the blacksmith at the -cross-roads, or the joiner and carpenter, whose correct eye and a -self-taught course of mechanical drawing enabled him to supply plans -when required. Nor did this carpenter think it necessary to call himself -an architect and builder, as he would to-day, in order to back his -claims to consideration. - -No one was jealous because the Misses Felton, year after year, went to -New York after Thanksgiving, and returned via the South late in May. -Rather were their doings a sort of general stimulant and tonic, -administered in regular doses through the letters that Miss Emmy Felton -wrote weekly to pretty little Mrs. Latimer, the Episcopal minister's -wife, who had a love of life beyond the radius of eight hundred a year, -while Miss Felton herself was in constant communication with her -steward, Wheeler, as to every detail of the management of the place, so -that all Harley's Mills knew exactly what to expect before it happened. - -With the other wealthy landowner of the town the conditions were wholly -different. When John Angus left his house for travel or the city, the -gates were closed as far as knowledge of him was concerned. Ever since -he had come home to take the property at his father's death, twelve -years before, he had been a builder of barriers, not only between -himself and those he thought beneath him, but he hedged himself with -ceremony in his own household, his own inflexible will being his -universal measure, and every act being in accord with a fixed plan. If, -in his dislikes, he was deliberate and inexorable, those who knew him -said that it was the same with his passions; in nothing had he the -saving grace of spontaneity. Small wonder that his roseleaf wife -withered by his side until some final shock, too strong for her -endurance, swept her away to die in oblivion. - -Thus the news came to Harley's Mills not only that the Feltons would -return the middle of April because the disturbed state of the South had -made their usual journey impossible, but that John Angus, who had been -running up at odd times all the month, was going to remodel his place -for the reception of his bride in June; while following on the heels of -this report, house-painters, paperers, masons, and a landscape-gardener -came to confirm it. So it fell out that, for a time, the lady baby, who -remained unclaimed at Oliver Gilbert's, became a thing of secondary -interest to every one but the postmaster and Satira Pegrim, until the -full month having gone, the village was again excited, this time by the -news that Gilbert had taken the final steps toward adopting the child. - -Immediately several impromptu debating societies of villagers took up -the merits of the case for and against the adoption. The women of the -Hospital Aid Society vowing, as they rolled bandages and scraped lint, -that a man of Gilbert's age was no fit guardian for a female child, -especially as Satira Pegrim might be relied on to take her second at any -time he should come to hand, which might easily happen in a post-office, -and leave her brother in the lurch. - -The men did their talking in the blacksmith's shop, a place where -Gilbert was not likely to appear suddenly, their objections being -impersonal and based chiefly on the fact that it wasn't a good plan to -encourage the leaving of stray children on people's stoops, also that -the presence of the mysterious child might be prejudicial to his -official position; next the three ministers of the town, Episcopal, -Congregational, and Methodist, had all made friendly calls at the -post-office house and asked, according to their different methods, -whether Gilbert recognized the responsibility he was contemplating. -Meanwhile, in the thick of the discussion, the Misses Felton and Mr. -Esterbrook arrived. Not all together, it is true, for Miss Emmy, being a -trifle delicate and disliking the mixed air, crowds, and jolting of the -cars, always drove from New York in the family carriage, a spacious -landau, lined with rose satin and swung high upon C springs, the journey -of fifty odd miles being broken for luncheon and a change of horses, the -sedate family grays having been sent on to this point the day previous. -Mr. Esterbrook accompanied Miss Emmy on this excursion; Nora, maid and -general factotum, making the third. - -As for Miss Felton, this means of progress was too slow. She took the -train with the other maids and Caleb, the colored man-servant; but even -this method of progression was far from rapid, as the cars were pulled -singly by horses from the station in East Twenty-sixth Street, a little -above the Feltons' house on Madison Square, through Fourth Avenue until, -the press of traffic left behind, the cars were united and an engine -attached. Still, journey as they might, the family group that parted -after breakfast in the great high-ceiled house facing the square would -meet at a flower-decked supper table in a new and healthier atmosphere, -without hurry or disarrangement, so harmonious was Miss Felton's -housekeeping in the subduing of annoying details. - -Not to understand the component parts of the household that lived, or, -one might almost say, reigned, at Felton Manor would be to have little -understanding of the conditions of the life and surroundings into which -the lady baby bid fair to be adopted. The Felton ladies were Bostonians -by birth and education, their father having been a prominent judge. -Failing of sons, he had, after being some years a widower, virtually -adopted and educated a cousin's son to be his confidential secretary, -and afterward appointed him in his will as a sort of guardian and -adviser to his daughters, who were left at the respective ages of -eighteen and twenty with a large property for those days. This man was -William Esterbrook, ten years the senior of Elizabeth Felton. - -When Squire Felton died, the combination household continued as before, -except that the Boston house was given up for one in New York, as the -east winds were bad for Miss Emmy's throat. Miss Felton, however, took -her Aunt Lucretia's place at the helm. Strangers sometimes remarked upon -the peculiarity of the household arrangements, where William Esterbrook, -in a house not his own, filled the old-world position of guardian over -attractive and marriageable wards. The family friends, however, saw -nothing more than a brotherly and sisterly arrangement, and this was the -view that the trio thought they held themselves. The real fact was that -the kinship, so remote as to be merely a shadow, had kept them all three -from leading the normal life that was their due. - -Twenty years had passed, years full of event and social intercourse with -the best that either came to or lived in the land, and still it was the -Misses Felton that bought a picture from a rising but struggling artist; -gave the young poet or musician a chance to be heard; entertained the -sedate at dinner or the opera, and, though they no longer joined in it, -gave the young a chance to dance in their great rooms, or sit out the -dances on stairs or in the trim conservatory. For, motherless and young -as they had been at the time of their father's death, they realized the -true social and moral responsibility of their wealth. Miss Felton was -independent, I had almost said masculine, of action; without being -brusque, she was direct and to the point, comprehended financial -questions, and had an accurate judgment in real estate. Tall and of -elegant proportions, she wore dark rich silks of simple lines, a plain -linen collar and brooch, while her splendid hair, without a thread of -gray, was drawn loosely over the ears and braided close to her head. She -did not seem to make any exertion to follow the fashions, and yet was -always distinguished. - -Miss Emmy, having been the younger, and the pet of her father in -addition, was of the spontaneous, romantic, and feminine type that, -while it seems very yielding, has quite fixed ideas. She was but a -trifle above medium height, with large gray eyes and light brown hair, -that at forty was either heaped high in puffs, gathered in a netted -"waterfall" at the back of her head, or let loose in a shower of -ringlets as the whim of the moment required. She loved everything -dainty, in people as well as in clothes; her skirts rippled with ribbons -and lace as she trailed slowly along, her sunshades were of the -daintiest, and her flowery hats bits of art that almost defied nature. -Lyric music was her passion, and in spite of her years she still had a -pretty voice, quite the size for ballads. Small wonder that between -these two opposites William Esterbrook, who, though of somewhat -superfine tastes combined with an undeveloped sense of responsibility, -was still a man, stood undecided. - -Twenty years before, his interests had centred upon Miss Felton, and -together they had regarded pretty, kittenish Emmy as a child, a -plaything. This aspect soon ceased, when Emmy, coming into the social -world, had taken the sedate man of thirty-two for her cavalier quite as -a matter of course, and alternately bullied him and turned to him in -every strait. Once only he had come face to face with his manhood and -resolved to make the plunge and propose to Emmy, but an over-estimate of -the effect it might have upon Elizabeth held him back, and so the three -had drifted through the best years of life, loyal to each other, yet too -supremely and evenly comfortable to ever know the highest happiness. - -If the trio had been separated even by a season of travel, they might -have discovered their real selves, for absence is often quite necessary -to give the perspective for rightly judging the feelings and relations -with one another. - -Six months before, the fire of war had entered Esterbrook's veins, and -he, the veteran of a militia regiment, had almost broken away to join a -company of his old comrades as a minor officer; but even here he was -rebuffed and turned back by something wrong with his heart action that -his physician discovered at the last moment. Consequently, at fifty odd, -William Esterbrook, whom Miss Emmy called Willy, and Miss Felton, -cousin Esterbrook, though a very well-preserved man, who had no need as -yet to use either hair tonic or other toilet accessories, was possessed -by a sort of self-consciousness and a certain agitated courtesy of -manner. - -A married man of this age usually has relaxed his tension through -natural processes; a confirmed bachelor, living in his own apartments, -takes his ease because there is nothing to goad him to do otherwise; but -for Esterbrook, he was still living in the play that had absorbed his -youth without realizing that it was a play, and sometimes he was -horribly bored. - -In personal appearance he had a style quite his own. At a time of beards -and many whiskers, low collar, and loose tie, he kept a clean-shaven -face and still affected a modified stock. His coat--except in the -evening, a Prince Albert--had a decided waist line; he wore spats that -broke the plainness of the customary high boots of the time, and his -taste in waistcoats was as refined as it was fanciful. After all, it was -the hat that was the most distinguishing characteristic of his apparel. -This was of the softest beaver, brushed until it shone like silk; the -crown of moderate height was belled out at the top and the brim curled -well at the sides. In the crown of this he invariably carried his -right-hand glove, the left being always in place and neatly buttoned. -This habit came of the old-time courtesy of either removing the glove -when shaking hands with ladies or apologizing for its presence. Once -Esterbrook had removed the glove with graceful ceremony before extending -his well-shaped hand. Now?--well, he was a bit weary of manners and -customs, so that the offending glove lived in his hat. - -About ten o'clock on the morning after the Feltons' arrival Miss Emmy -and Mr. Esterbrook were seen walking on the road that ran from Quality -Hill down to Westboro. Many heads looked out of windows and nodded, and -not a few hands were extended over gates by way of greeting, together -with bits of local news, either offered at random or for exchange. - -"Had the ladies heard of the lady baby left at old Oliver Gilbert's, and -his preposterous idea of keeping her?" asked the farrier's wife, who had -been one of the many helpers who had married from Felton Manor. - -"Had they seen Miss Marcia Duane, John Angus's intended, and was she as -handsome and rich as folks said? Able to wind him, who had never before -bent head or knees, around her little finger? And if so, why did she -take a man old enough to be her father?" - -"Why?" said Mr. Esterbrook, with his jauntiest air. "John Angus and -myself are nearly of an age, and I'm not yet out of the running." - -"Oh! Mr. Esterbrook, present company is always suspected, and then I'm -sure no one ever thinks how old _you_ are; you've always been just the -same," said the farrier's wife. - -Yes, always the same, a house cat by the fire; the bitter thought -flashed through his brain, yet the next moment he was stooping -courteously to disentangle Miss Emmy's parasol from the fringe of her -silk mantilla. Then they proceeded along the street, Miss Emmy's full -skirt of gray chiné silk, with its bordered flounces of pink roses, -rustling as it swung about her, buoyed out by many petticoats, for this -dainty lady followed the fashion without the use of what she considered -the unnecessary vulgarity of a harsh and unmanageable hoop-skirt. - -Little Mrs. Latimer ran out to remind her friend that the Hospital Aid -Society would meet at the Rectory that afternoon, and did she suppose -that dear Miss Felton would come and say something to the ladies about -the necessity of rolling the bandages straight, as Dr. Morewood had said -that to expect an army surgeon in a hurry to use a long bandage rolled -loosely on the bias, was simply to invite a lesson in profanity. - -Finally the post-office was reached. Oliver Gilbert, who was at his work -bench in the back shop, put down a cuckoo clock that he was tinkering -with and came forward quite spryly to meet his visitors, the limp, -caused in boyhood by the ill setting of a broken hip, being less -noticeable than usual. - -"We've come to see you first, and then to take a peep at this wonderful -lady baby about whom the village is agog. That is, _I_ have; Mr. -Esterbrook would probably rather stay here and talk with you about the -new soldier, Grant, who has come out of nowhere and is doing such great -things. - -"By the way, my watch has been losing time, though sister Elizabeth -declares that I wind it in the dark and turn the hands backward; at any -rate, it will be the better for a visit with you." Then turning to Mr. -Esterbrook, who was trying to decide which of the three morning paper -she should read first, "Willy, my watch, please; you have it in your -pocket." - -As Miss Emmy passed through the arbor to the house, she was surprised to -hear the halting tap of Gilbert's footsteps behind her. "I do not need -to take you from the office," she said, "for you must not forget that -Mrs. Pegrim is an old friend of mine." - -"'Tisn't that, but I want to know what you think of _her_." - -"Hasn't she any name? I mean, haven't you decided what to call her?" - -"I've pretty much made up my mind; I had to, for she's to be baptized -this afternoon." - -At this moment, Mrs. Pegrim, who had been chafing with impatience ever -since she saw Miss Emmy go into the post-office, opened the door. By her -side, standing straight and true, even though one hand clung to the -woman's apron, was the lady baby. - -Very scant was the greeting that Miss Emmy gave Satira Pegrim, for -suddenly she picked up the child and, carrying her across the room, -stood her upon the table so that their faces were upon a level, all -oblivious of the fact that her mantilla had slipped from her shoulders -and that the lace sunshade she had dropped had been seized by the pup, -who bore it to his usual câche under the stove. - -"The darling! how could any one have the heart to desert such an -exquisite little creature? Positively, Mr. Gilbert, you must let us -have her; I've always thought that I should adopt a young girl some day, -twenty years hence, to buy pretty clothes for, after I grow too wrinkled -and gray to wear pink and corn color, but I never before realized what a -dear a lady baby could be. After all, it will be much nicer to watch her -grow up; how surprised sister Elizabeth will be, and as for Mr. -Esterbrook, I wonder what he would do if I asked him to carry her home -for me." - -As she leaned toward the child, who was clutching at her long pearl -earrings, shaped like bunches of grapes, seeming to regard her as a new -and improved species of doll, Gilbert's hand closed on Miss Emmy's arm -with a grip that was by no means gentle. - -"Hush!" he said almost roughly in her ear, "we don't speak about her -being deserted and talk of that sort any more. None can tell when she -will begin to understand. As for her being adopted by you or any one -else, that's not to be. She was not left on Quality Hill; no lights were -there that stormy night; there were no folks awake! She was as good as -born to me. There's just three of us in this, God and her and me, and -we've got to work it out between us, stand or fall." - -"I could do so much more for her," Miss Emmy murmured apologetically; -then stopped, checked by the expression of his face, though she did not -understand it. - -"Yes, ma'am, you could and would as far as boughten things would carry, -but I've held Marygold in my arms, her little fingers clasped around my -neck, so I _know_, and time out of mind it's come to me that with women -folks and children the _knowing_ and _feeling sure_ is more than the -_having_." - -"Miss Emmy, what is a parrotpet?" Satira Pegrim had been on pins and -needles during this interview, and in seeking to cut it short, jerked -out a sentence quite as irrelevant as those two that have become -famous,--"There's milestones on the Dover road," and "Barneses goose was -stole by tinkers." - -"A paroquet is a bird, a small parrot. Don't you remember that I kept a -pair until one died and the other one grew moody and bit Willy--I mean -Mr. Esterbrook?" said Miss Emmy, also glad of the break in a strained -situation. - -"No, it isn't a bird, it's something to do with bricks. They've been -carting them from sloops in Westboro Harbor up to John Angus's place -this week past, and this morning, when I was raking up the leaves in the -garden down beyond the apple trees, making ready to sow early radishes -and lettuce, I climbed up the bank to Angus's boundary to take a look, -and if the old fence wasn't gone! Half a dozen men were filling out the -bank even with dirt from what was the old flower garden; the old shrubs -was uptore and lying roots in air, and right at the end of what was the -long path was a mountain of bricks. - -"Peter Nichols, the overseer, was there, so I called out and asked him -what became of the fence and said I wished I could have had some of the -piney roots and garden stuff that was just tossed out for filling. He -says, 'There's going to be a fine brick parrotpet instead of the fence, -'cause this here's to be a rose garden, and as for the posy roots and -things, I daresn't give 'em, but later on I reckon that some of 'em'll -root and sprout on the filled bank your side of the parrotpet." - -"Oh, it's a parapet you mean!" exclaimed Miss Emmy; "a wall something -like a fort. That proves the reports that John Angus is anxious to -please his bride and let her carry out her tastes, for she has a -charming rose garden at their estate on the Hudson that ends in a stone -parapet overlooking the river." - -"Only this one overlooks the post-office and me, though I believe they -_can_ see over the trees to salt water," said Gilbert, dryly; and then -his frown changed to a smile, as the lady baby, tiring of her fingering -inspection of Miss Emmy's ribbons, crawled to his knee with the -sidewheel motion she used when she wished to hurry, and holding her head -on one side like an inquisitive bird, stretched out her arms and called -"Daddy!" with unmistakable clearness. - -"Mr. Gilbert, did I understand you to say that the child is to be -baptized this afternoon?" asked Miss Emmy, presently, not a trace of -annoyance at his rebuff remaining in her manner or voice. "Who is going -to do it, and will it be here or at one of the churches? I should like -to send the lady baby some of our roses; I know she will love flowers by -the way her eyes follow my hat." - -"Mr. Latimer is going to do it; he's coming here, Miss Emmy, and we'd be -grateful for a few posies to trick out the foreroom. I reckoned to get a -new paper on it before this, but it doesn't seem any season to spend -for ornaments." - -"Mr. Latimer, an Episcopalian? Why, I thought that you were a -Congregationalist, and your wife was certainly the daughter of Mr. -Moore, who used to be Methodist preacher in Bridgeton." - -"That's all so, Miss Emmy; but what I'm striving at in regards to the -bringing up of lady baby is to be fair and unbiassed in all things where -I can. Now, Mary belonging to one of the sects in town and me to -another, it seems fair to divide 'round and give this child whatever -benefit there is in the third. Then, too, they've got an organ down to -the 'Piscopal Church and we've only got a tuning-fork, 'cause whenever -an organ is brought up, John Angus votes it down as sinful." - -"Aye, aye! he still holds to Kirk o' Scotland; he's vairy serious and -canty," interposed Miss Emmy, with a well-feigned accent, "for his -housekeeper told that last winter, when the cook asked higher wages, he -couldn't give an answer until he'd pondered it on communion sabbath, -which put off the evil day four weeks." - -"The child likes music," continued Gilbert, "for only yesterday, when a -fiddler with a dancing bear came past and I had him in to play, she'd a -crept off after him in a twinkling while Satira's back was turned, if -the pup there hadn't barked and tugged her by the skirt. - -"Well, I asked Mr. Latimer and explained to him, and he said, 'Why not -bring her to the church after service Sunday morning,' but when I told -him Marygold was named in the foreroom, then he said he'd come up. I'm -not asking a company,--Satira couldn't see her way to manage,--so -there'll only be jest two or three, but I'd be pleased to see you, Miss -Emmy, if you're interested that far to take the trouble." - -"What is the news?" asked Miss Emmy, as she joined Mr. Esterbrook, who -was walking to and fro under the maples that lined the walk opposite the -post-office, a goodly quantity of their scarlet catkins decorating the -wide brim of his hat. - -"News? There isn't any, except that McClellan is still on his way to -Richmond and there are some war bonds, 5-20's and 6-20's, going on the -market that I think we should all subscribe to as far as we are able. I -must speak to Elizabeth about them to-night." - -Then as he raised the parasol in which there were several holes not in -the original pattern and held it between her and the now really hot sun, -he glanced at her face and saw, not only that it was flushed, but that -it wore a wholly new expression, while the strings of her bonnet, that -had been tied with a graceful precision, hung loose and bore the -unmistakable print of moist fingers. Her face held Esterbrook's eyes -until, unconsciously drawn, she looked up and in her turn was amazed at -the sudden intensity of his usually placid countenance and the flash of -his eyes as he shifted them. - -"What is it? What has happened?" he said. "Has the child been temperish -and vexed you, or did she pull your ribbons awry in play?" - -"No, she was lovely, far too lovable;" then she paused to look over the -neat picket-fence into one of the many gardens that filled the spaces -between street and white-pillared porches, where tufts of golden -daffodils shone like prisoned sunbeams on the lawn and single white -violets, short stemmed and fragrant, huddled timidly about the roots of -leafless rose-bushes in the long borders. "What has happened is that in -this last hour I've been away, Willy," she said, as she made a -wide-sweeping gesture, "so far away from you and Elizabeth that I almost -forgot how you looked. So far that I saw quite back to things that might -have been." - -Emeline Felton had always been, within fixed boundaries, of a romantic -and emotional disposition, but with that gesture, suggestive of the -breaking of bonds, Esterbrook felt that she swept these boundaries -aside. - -"Was I other than I am now in those far-away days? Have I not always -been the same to you? Do I not always study your interests?" Esterbrook -said, again meeting her eyes that did not turn away. - -"Yes, but you were different once, though not for long; since then, as -you say, you've been always the same, and that's part of the matter." - -"I wish that in those other days I'd had the courage to go away far -enough to see if you would miss me and then haunt you until I'd made you -marry me, Emeline." - -"And I--I wish you had!" - -Esterbrook caught his breath: "Is it too late? Am I too old to change -the might have been?" - -"Ah, yes; if I married, after to-day, it must be a younger man than you. -Besides you could not stand the shock of telling Elizabeth, and if I -told her, she might send me to bed without my supper! - -"Then at our age we must consider our obligations to society; as -Elizabeth puts it, how disappointed it would be if the institution known -as the _Misses Felton and Mr. Esterbrook_ should disintegrate! How we -should be missed, we nice _safe_ people! Ah, no, Willy, don't look so -serious; it's only some left-over mad March Hare that has bewitched me," -and Miss Emmy laughed with the same ripple in her voice as that of the -bluebird on the roof of its box in the garden. - -"We must not forget to be patriotic; we must hurry home to consult -Elizabeth about those 6-20's you spoke of, and please, Willy, ask -Wheeler to make me a nice little bouquet of roses with lace paper around -it by three o'clock to-day, and tie up a box of loose flowers also. I'm -going to the christening of Oliver Gilbert's lady baby." - -The bonnet strings were tied as usual and the flush on her cheek had -faded to its normal tint when Esterbrook next glanced at his companion, -but in those few minutes he too had looked back and travelled afar, and -his face changed as though he had been a ghost of himself. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE NAMING - - -The Feltons, in common with their neighbors of Quality Hill, dined at -one o'clock and had tea or supper, according to the heartiness of the -meal, at six or half past, the village and farm folk having their -mid-day meal at noon. While a number of these families kept the same -hours in their winter city life, during the past four or five seasons -there had been a move toward afternoon dinner at five. Dinner parties -were given at even a later hour, oftentime not beginning until six, the -Feltons being among those who adopted the extreme custom. So far, -however, no one had brought the innovation to upset the almost historic -domestic regulations of Harley's Mills. - -Promptly at half-past two on this April afternoon, the carriage came -around to take Miss Felton to the meeting of the Hospital Aid Society, -where she was preparing to inaugurate a better system of work, the -material for which was tied in a great bundle in the porch,--cotton -cloth, soft unbleached muslin for bandages, and rolls of the gray blue -flannel of the hue that for years after was known as army blue. - -"Are you coming, Emeline? Or are you too tired after your long drive -yesterday?" asked Miss Felton, as she stood before her bureau fastening -a wide lace collar with the brooch to which Gilbert had referred, and -then catching the folds of her India shawl with an inconspicuous pin of -Scotch pebbles that blended with the fabric. Her bonnet was of finely -braided straw of soft brown, the chaise-top front being filled in with -geraniums of crimson velvet; the broad strings of brown watered ribbon -were of the exact shade of her gown. Though the Misses Felton were but -two years apart, Elizabeth, by far the handsomer of the two, dressed as -a doting mother, who considers that all the daintily pretty things of -life belong by right to her daughter. - -Miss Emmy, who was searching for something in the many small drawers of -her dressing-table, did not answer immediately, and her sister repeated -the question. - -"I'm not in the least tired, but I'm not going with you because I've -promised dear quaint Oliver Gilbert that I will go to the christening of -the mysterious lady baby this afternoon." - -"Do you think under the circumstances it is necessary? Is it not a -rather public expression of our approval of what the conservative -townspeople consider a very unwise action of Gilbert's?" - -"It certainly is approval,--_my_ approval, that is,--for really, -Elizabeth, the only objection that I have to Gilbert's taking the lady -baby is that it prevents me from adopting her myself. No, this isn't one -of my little pleasantries, as you call them. I asked Gilbert for her -and he refused. From your standpoint it may seem strange, and I have no -wish to compromise you. I've come to think now that as we are both past -forty and likely to remain the Misses Felton and live in one house to -the end of our days, it is time that, at least, we allow ourselves to -hold different opinions. It will make variety and keep us fresher, you -know. See, I'm going to take the lady baby these coral beads that I wore -at her age. She has precisely the colored hair and eyes to wear coral; -when she looks up from under her long lashes, she might be a mer-baby, -or whatever a mermaid's child should be called." - -Miss Emmy chatted gayly along, nonchalantly and without the slightest -air of being put out, yet Miss Felton knew that some great change had -come over her volatile sister, but instead of accepting the warning in -silence, she still felt called upon to chide. - -"Do you think under the circumstances it is a wise thing to give -ornaments to a foundling of whose antecedents we know nothing? Isn't it -putting possible temptation in her way?" - -"The knowing nothing is precisely what makes it right, my dear -emotionless sister. As we know nothing about her, we can take it for -granted that she is everything we could wish for. There, don't be vexed; -you are so compounded of judgment and righteousness that you can't -possibly understand people that want to do things simply because they -feel that they must. Don't wait for me, but send the carriage back, -please; I'm taking down some flowers." - -Miss Emmy went on with her toilet, Nora lending a helping hand now and -then to adjust the net of silk and beads that to-day held her curls, but -so rapid and nervous were the fragile lady's movements that she had the -air of a paradise bird pluming itself, and while the color her exertions -spread upon her cheeks lasted, no one would have guessed her due in -years by ten or fifteen. - -The front yard at the post-office house was decked as for summer when -Miss Emmy arrived. She had refused Nora's aid, preferring to carry her -own bundles, and had a little single-handed tussle with the gate that -allowed her to see in detail the row of pink conch shells, alternating -with round stones freshly whitewashed, that outlined the path. While two -settees, also spotless white, of the form once used in schools, set off -the bit of lawn, one resting under a tall lilac bush, the other standing -aimlessly in the open, as though it lacked the decision of character -necessary for a choice of background, between a crab tree, the grape -arbor, or the bank that rolled up to John Angus's garden. The -little-used front door was open, and a pair of gigantic overshoes beside -the mat told that one guest had arrived from a region where the roads -were still "unsettled." - -Satira Pegrim was at the door before Miss Emmy had reached the top step, -and rushing out, laid hold of the boxes of flowers with one hand, while -she half led, half shoved her visitor in with the other. - -"Do mind your step, Miss Emmy; Oliver hasn't got the storm door off'n -yet, he's been so eat up with worry this last month. Neither have I had -the pluck to attack that hall tread and turn it. It's now dark figgers -on light, but bein' three ply, if turned it would be light on dark and a -sight fresher; so if you kin just play to see it that way, you'll ease -my feelin's. Won't you step up into the best room and lay off your -bunnit? - -"Going to leave it on? Well, it's real handsome, and I've heard say that -folks in New York keep their hats on to most all kinds of day parties, -which I lay to folks not bein' as well acquainted as they are this way. -Besides, there being such a heap o' ornery thievin' ones, the bunnits -might get mixed or done away with if laid off'n. Still, bein' as it's -right here in town, I do wish you'd loosen yours; it would seem more -friendly like, and as if you was one of the family, of which the good -Lord knows there's a lack, 'specially on an occasion like this." - -Miss Emmy laughingly expressed her willingness to take off her -head-gear, and after arranging the roses in two yellow and brown lustre -pitchers on the mantel-shelf, and laying the little bouquet beside the -deep bowl of Russian cut glass that was to do duty for the christening, -she followed Mrs. Pegrim upstairs. - -"Why, where is the lady baby?" she asked in surprise. - -"I'm letting her sleep until the last moment, and Oliver, who's dressing -and fussing between his room and the kitchen's, got an eye to her. -'Lisha Potts's in there talking to him. Oliver would have 'Lisha to the -naming 'cause of his being the one to open the door _that_ night, you -know." (This was as near as Satira ever allowed herself to approach the -forbidden subject.) "He balked considerable, not being used to society -down here at the centre, and settin' in there now he does look uncommon -like a coon they had in a cage last county fair, 'n' we-all didn't tell -him one of the Miss Feltons was coming, for fear he'd streak it, so -you'd best stand just behind the door 'ntil he gets in. - -"I'm turrible glad to see your bunnit off'n, and how you do your hair. -Only a few of the daring hereabout has fixed theirs in what's called a -waterfall, and those as has looks like they'd put spice bags on the back -of their necks for a crick' n' they'd stuck fast. Yourn is just elegant, -trickles down and hangs as easy as if there wasn't no net to gather it. - -"Who all is coming to the naming? Only First Selectman Morse, little -Hughey Oldys, me and you and 'Lisha and Gilbert, besides Mr. Latimer -that does it. Gilbert he wanted more, but, says I, not having cleaned -house I'm not ready for a charge o' the whole town 'at would come if we -loosed the line, so we'd best draw it close as we can without choking -ourselves, and that's how. - -"No, brother hasn't told me the name yet, but I suspicion it's something -choice and bookish, for though Gilbert never made out to get further'n -three terms at the old Academy (that little building 'nexed behind the -new one), he's always thought a sight of books. In fact, he got -something of the taste from pa, who was a carpenter and the -forehandedest man about naming his family in all Newfield County; he'd -names for us all before he'd picked out his wife, pa had. - -"You ain't never heard? Well, it come about this way: Thomas, Henry, and -Gideon had been the male names among the Gilberts ever since they set -foot in this land o' promise near two hundred years ago, and as they -slumped down in one spot and didn't journey to speak of, with first, -second, and third cousins all clinging to those names, things got mixed -pretty well. - -"Father, he that was to be, was jobbing around down at the Harley house, -which is now Mis' Oldys's, fixin' more shelves in grandsir' Harley's -liberary. My, but isn't there a sight of books there! They do claim that -grandsir' Harley had every one that was made from Adam up to the time of -his death, and the Oldys folks has been buyin' ever since. - -"Well, they knowin' and trustin' father, he put in his dinner hour there -in the liberary instead o' coming clear home, and he got real interested -in the printing outside the books, and he came to find there was quite a -few double names he'd never heard of. So he says to himself, says he, -'I'll put a few down; they'll come handy some day mebbe, and freshen up -the family,' and so he did, and after ma died we found his pocket-book -all full of figgerin' on work and the names writ in the end. There was -more than he ever used, there bein' only ten of us, six boys and four -girls. Some o' the names he'd passed over, I reckon, 'cause he wasn't -quite sure of their sect. - -"The first of us was a girl and she was named Jane Grey, but didn't live -out her second year; then come Edmund Spenser, Christopher Marlow, and -Clarissy Harlow, Robinson Crusoe, Charlotte Temple, Daniel Defoe, -Oliver Goldsmith, Cotton Mather, and lastly me, with Oliver, all that's -living. I was called for grandma on ma's side on account of her silver -spoons, two candlesticks, and snufflers, which I didn't get, marryin' -against her wishes before she died. - -"Some of the names were a mouthful, but they did look real choice on -headstones, and liven up the West Hill graveyard a lot. The marble man -that came from Boston to set up John Angus's father's moniment allowed -he'd never seen such a litery crop o' stones outside east -Massachusetts." - -A knock at the door sent Mrs. Pegrim scurrying away, Miss Emmy following -more slowly, as the front stairs were so steep and high that a misstep -was all that lay between the top and bottom. In the foreroom Mr. Latimer -was alone, standing hands behind him looking out the south window, the -waking voice of the lady baby having called away Mrs. Pegrim. - -Miss Emmy had entered softly and waited a moment before she spoke. There -was something about Stephen Latimer that always seemed as though it -belonged to another world and appealed physically to her spiritual -sense. Though of American birth and ancestry, he was a type of the -old-world vicar, well born and cultured, yet who, through his intense -introspection, spends his life in a small church of a remote parish, -seeing each morning's sun through the dimly colored glass of the chancel -windows, as a light sent especially from heaven to him, and basking in -mystic joy as, between times, his fingers draw from the organ the -simple linked notes that hold the village children to their hymns. - -In figure Latimer was rather above the medium height, spare without -thinness; a smoothly shaven face was saved by distinct mouth lines and a -firm chin from the perfect symmetry that seems to lack sympathy. -Iron-gray hair belied his age, which was barely forty years. In New -England towns at this time people looked askance at men of this type. -Patriotism rushed to any form of dissent in which to cloak itself rather -than lean toward anything that might be preëstablished and, therefore, -un-American,--the middle classes knowing no distinction between -catholicity and Romanism. - -Such feelings had Stephen Latimer met with in coming to Harley's Mills -six years before, yet he stayed on and soon came to be reckoned with as -an influence, holding his own and more, by seeing over what he might not -see through. The Misses Felton, though not of his fold, had given St. -Luke's an organ, such as was not known in Newfield County, and through -it, Latimer's influence went out even more than by the pulpit. For -though his young wife played at service, on Wednesday afternoons, rain -or shine, he sat before the keys and let his fingers speak the words -that all might hear who would. - -Sometimes the little church was filled by the Quality Hill folk and -their guests, sometimes a tired woman with a fretful, half-sick child, -or a pauper laborer creeping in to rest from his work on the roads, -would be the only audience--it made no difference in the music. - -Presently Latimer turned,--"Ah, so you are here! I thought I recognized -your roses. Is it not a brave deed of Gilbert's, this going again into -the fray after time had healed his wounds and let him at least build a -shelter around his sorrow? Talk of the bravery of those who go to -battle, I believe his courage in this matter in facing the unknown is -the real heroism." - -"I think you are right, though I had not looked at it in this way -before; I only thought of the amusement of the child's companionship, -not the responsibility. Ah, here is little Hugh Oldys." - -Presently, Satira Pegrim came in, carrying the lady baby, who would have -much preferred to walk, for having acquired this accomplishment all of a -sudden, she was loath to relinquish it. Gilbert and 'Lisha Potts -followed. It was not until Potts had come quite into the room, crossing -to between the centre-table and Mary's melodeon that stood between the -windows, that he saw Miss Emmy. All retreat being cut off, he gave a -sort of gasp and tried in vain to sink into the depths of his -stiff-collared, deep-cuffed Sunday shirt as a turtle disappears into its -shell. - -The sight of Miss Emmy produced a different effect upon the child, who -crowed and stretched her hands toward her new friend, quietly allowed -her to fasten the corals upon the plump, bare neck, and afterward tried -to look at them with real satisfaction, moving them up and down with her -dimpled chin. - -For a moment general conversation reigned, then-- - -"What is she to be named? I cannot wait another moment," cried Miss -Emmy. - -"It's writ in this book," said Gilbert, taking a small morocco Bible -from the table and showing the fly leaf, upon which, in characters -painfully round and precise, was "Julia Poppea Gilbert, from her loving -Daddy on her first birthday, April 20, 1862." - -For a moment no one stirred, for all realized the final way in which the -quiet man had settled the matter of birth and name, giving her an -anchorage so far as might be. - -Then Stephen Latimer spoke. - -"Julia Poppea! Where did you find that name, Gilbert?" - -"Julia was my mother's name; seems as if there should be family in it -somehow. And the other--I've read it somewhere, and it's got my fancy." -(Not a word of the locket.) - -"If I remember," said Mr. Latimer, hesitatingly, "it was the name of one -of Nero's wives; would not something nearer home be more suitable, -neighbor Gilbert? Mary, or a flower name, if you like fanciful things, -such as Violet or Rose?" - -"No, I've settled to Poppea. I've known of some one called by it that -wasn't kin of any Neroes or spoken of in Mr. Plutarch's books. Poppea -comes near to being a posy too,--poppies, nice cheerful flowers that, -come to recollect, have long lashes to their eyes, just like the lady -baby." - -When Stephen Latimer explained the need of sponsors according to his -ritual, and their duties, Gilbert knit his brows at the unforeseen -complication. - -"It is customary to have some others than the parents of the child to -stand, as it were, in their place of responsibility in case of need; -under these circumstances, surely no one can be more suitable than Mrs. -Pegrim and yourself, neighbor Gilbert." - -"I couldn't stand for any such strange customs or their results," said -Satira, closing her jaws quickly; she had been reading the sentences of -promise in the prayer-book that Mr. Latimer had marked. "I couldn't go -further than to agree to keep her in clothes, her body clean and well -fed, and to say, 'Now I lay me.'" - -"As I am in the eye of the law her father, the choice must be outside of -me, parson," Gilbert said slowly. "Who is usually asked?" - -"Near kin, or friends upon whom one can rely to take a true interest in -the child." - -"Then I ask you, Miss Emmy, and you, 'Lisha Potts." - -"I'm Baptist born, but no church-member," said Potts, his words forced -out as by some explosive. - -"And I am a Channing Unitarian and therefore an arch dissenter," said -Miss Emmy; yet at the same time, through the yearning of her eyes, she -already had the lady baby in her arms. - -Stephen Latimer looked from one to the other, an expression of -satisfaction stealing over his features as if he saw some special -significance in this strange combination, then whispered to Miss Emmy -that upon her devolved the duty of holding the child, who began to fret -strangely and pucker her face for tears. - -Latimer said something to little Hugh, his music pupil, and going to -the melodeon, covered and silent these many years, threw back the lid, -coaxed the fitful breath and reluctant keys to speak again, so gently -that there was no discord, only a far-away voice as of memory. Then the -two, the childish treble and the baritone, sang, - - "Saviour, Who Thy flock art feeding - With the shepherd's tenderest care, - All the feeble gently leading, - While the lambs Thy bosom share." - - * * * * * - -"That was her tune, Mary's, the last she sang to Marygold. How did you -know?" asked Gilbert when the hymn ended, his voice sinking -unconsciously to an awed whisper. - -"_I_ did not, but God does not forget." - -Slowly and clearly Latimer read the brief service of private baptism, -ending with the sentence, "If thou art not already baptized, Julia -Poppea, I baptize thee in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy -Ghost--Amen." - -"Is that in the book?" asked Gilbert; "then if it is, there are enough -other children named that 'tisn't known about where or when, so that she -isn't the only one." - -"No, we are none of us the _only ones_ either for sorrow or joy; in that -lies the love of God, which is brotherhood;" and seeing the light of the -smile upon Stephen Latimer's face, the child laughed and crowed, and -succeeded in wriggling from Miss Emmy's arms down to the floor, where -the pup was wagging furiously, as though trying to shake hands with -everybody at once, having slipped in as Mrs. Pegrim hurried out for the -christening cake. - -"It is not as light as it should be," she said, bustling back, "but I -made it sponge, so's the children could have it (I've fruit cake coming -for we-all). It was the last of the limed eggs I used, and though fresh -to taste, they do act sort of discouraged when it gets spring o' the -year and the responsibility o' hefting sponge cake is laid on them. - -"Would you mind, Miss Emmy, seeing as you stepped so far into the -family, as to cut it, I mean break it, as a knife spiles sponge cake, -while I pour the coffee?" - -"Hasn't the pup got any name yet?" asked Hughey, joining the pair on the -floor. "Mr. Gilbert, you promised he should have a name and that I might -help choose." - -"The boys in the office of nights call him Mack, after that little -General McClellan, 'cause he's always busy barking and running about, -planning great things he never does, so I reckon that'll stick to him." - -"Oh, I forgot! I've brought _her_ a present," and Hughey tugged at a -small parcel that was bulging from the pocket of his overcoat. "It's tin -soldiers and a little cannon; father brought me them from Bridgeton. -Aren't they fine? I'll show her how to stand them up." - -"I've a whimsey name for you," said Miss Emmy, as she set down her -coffee cup, a relic of grandma Gilbert's old Lowestoft with the little -half Chinese flower on front and in bottom, and stooping over the child, -kissed the rim of her ear that had an odd break in its curve like the -blemish on the petal of a flower that has folded too tight in the bud, -"a name that won't mix you up with any Mrs. Nero. You aren't to be -called lady baby any more, but Poppea of the post-office!" - -Poppea, however, gave no heed; she was absorbed in the ecstatic task of -tasting tin soldier. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -AS IT WAS WRITTEN - - -The twilight had been long for April, as though the vivid sunset colors -had fairly dazzled night, but now it was fading. Oliver Gilbert sat -before his desk in the workshop. He was not looking at what was before -him, but out of the window across road and fields to where a pearly -mist, in which floated the crescent of the new moon, hung above -Moosatuck. The rush of the river over the last dam that checked it above -the mills was occasionally punctuated by the cry of a little screech-owl -or the call of a robin shifting its perch, while the rhythmic chorus of -peeping frogs insisted upon "sleep-sleep-sleep." - -That Gilbert was tired was apparent in the deepened lines of his face -and droop of his shoulders, but it was wholly fatigue of mind. The -adoption which had for a month filled his waking and sleeping thoughts -was a thing accomplished. A week before, when the matter hung in the -balance, possession of the child had seemed the finality. To-night it -appeared as merely an open gate through which stretched a vista beyond -ken; across this many figures passed to and fro, but with faces in -shadow or averted. A question asked by Satira Pegrim at supper had given -birth to the entire throng. - -"Don't you calkerlate, Gilbert, it'll be best to lead her up to calling -us aunty and uncle? Then byme-by, when she comes to know, as know she -must, there won't be such a mess o' unravellin' to do." - -Gilbert had answered hotly, chided her unreasonably, ending by saying -that the child called him Daddy already, and that it could do no harm as -she grew up for the two white stones on the hillside to stand for Mother -and little sister. Perhaps, God helping, she might not learn the truth -until she was a woman and married. Then it need not hurt so much. Thus -Gilbert drugged himself reckless with hope, after the manner of us all. - -Darkness fell about him as he sat, his head fallen between his hands, -the side rays of the post-office lamp only seeming to draw the shadows -closer. Presently he pulled himself together, lighted the other lamps in -office and workshop, talking to himself in an argumentative strain as he -walked about. One man came in for a paper of tobacco and another for -some stamps, but seeing that the postmaster was preoccupied, they did -not linger. - -"That's just what I'll do," he said, as though after arguing with some -one he had suddenly achieved a conclusion. Again seating himself before -the desk and selecting a particular key from the chain he continued the -conversation with the opponent who, being speechless, could not -contradict. "When I was a boy, I always was scheming to write a book -some day that should be printed out like them in Squire Oldys's study. -The printing won't be compassed, but I can write out all that happens -from _that night_ on concerning the child, and the village doings, so's -it'll be there plain and no hearsay when she comes to read it and I'm -not here perhaps. Yes, and I must not forget discretion in the doing of -it. Mr. Esterbrook lent me some books of Mr. Pepys's, his remarks on his -own and neighborhood doings. They were fine and edifying in parts, but -lacked the discreetness and holding back I always find in Mr. Plutarch. -I wonder anyhow, if in the beginning books weren't written just for the -sake of talking to some one." - -After searching in a cupboard under the desk, Gilbert drew out a large -ledgerlike volume, bound in sheep. The cover was worn merely by lying -for years side by side with its shelf mates. The pages within were of -thick smooth paper, finely ruled. Gilbert tried several pens, quill and -steel, and finally brought a new one from the office; then slowly and -painfully he inscribed on the first page:-- - -_As it was written--by Oliver G. Gilbert for Julia Poppea, beginning -March 10, 1862._ Next he took his two precious Lincoln letters from -their drawer and fastened them between the first and second pages by -corner strips of gummed paper. Then began the diary. - -Two hours passed ere he had finished the first week, but as time went -on, he would naturally grow more brief--the more action the fewer words. - - * * * * * - -By the first of May the reconstructed post-office household was accepted -as a matter of course, Satira Pegrim having leased her farm for a three -years' term to 'Lisha Potts, and stored her furnishings in the empty -half hayloft of the post-office barn. When urged by Potts to sell her -farm, she had answered: "No, Gilbert or I either one of us may feel -called to marry, then what's to do? 'Cause I wouldn't be number four to -Deacon Green with his white chin whiskers, and his 'it's all for the -best' and other heartless sayings when number one, two, and three was -took, or, I claim, clean froze to death, isn't to say I'm set against -the institution. To camp 'longside of an ice pond isn't marriage. I -never did like lizards, real or human, since brother Cotton Mather put -one down my neck in Sunday-school the day sister Clarissy Harlow -'sperienced religion and I screeched so folks thought I had it too." - -On May Day itself, Poppea emerged from the hands of Satira Pegrim -clad in the first attempts for many a year of that good woman in -fashioning clothes for a child. The result was a sunbonnet of -brown-and-white-checked gingham, a sack-shaped slip of the same -material, reenforced by the species of extension-legged underwear called -pantalets, below which came a glimpse of sturdy ankles and feet shod in -stout ties. This being the universal garb of children of her age and -station all over Newfield County, the color of the gingham being -diversified. - -Miss Emmy Felton had protested and begged to be allowed to keep the -child in dainty nainsook and dimities, ribbons, and flowery hats, but -Gilbert had stood firm that in clothing at least she must be like the -neighborhood children, as he expressed it. Thus Poppea began life at -Harley's Mills without pretence, having for guardian Mack, who was fast -developing into a brown-and-white hound of medium size, a trace of -setter blood showing in the grain of his hair, and having the -forethought and human intelligence that is more often found in dogs of -unknown parentage than in pampered thoroughbreds. - -The parapet that made a barrier between the Angus garden and Gilbert's -home acres was finished. A series of massive stone urns, filled with -foliage plants that topped it, seemed in the half light of night and -morning like seneschals in plumed helmets, keeping watch over the doings -of those humbly encamped below, whom they suspected, but might not -displace. Yet what does Nature care for such distinctions and -boundaries? She does not even stop to snap her fingers at them, but -simply keeps on surrounding, overlapping, or undermining all barriers -that oppose her plans. - -The wash of earth and water from Windy Hill was toward Gilbert's -orchard, with its trees of mossed-branch crannies and knot holes, -beloved of robins, bluebirds, and woodpeckers, where the ample red cow -flavored her cud with apple blossoms, meadow mint, or nips of the sweet -corn in the vegetable patch, according to season and the location and -length of her tether. - -Down through the ground gaps in the parapet, a combination of -architectural design and necessity, came the spirit of that other garden -that the roseleaf wife had created, tended, and left to outlive her. -From the bank presently there sprang a bunch of tulips here, a crimson -peony there, a musk rose-bush in the débris put forth new branches -reaching toward the light, then came the matted green of violets, tufts -of velvet sweet william, a wand of madonna lilies. All through this -season and others some deep-sleeping seed or bulb put forth, -Johnny-jump-ups, prim quilled asters, and, with June, there swayed a -flock of butterfly-winged poppies that in still other seasons would -wander from their earth bank and alight among the plumes of orchard -grass to colonize all the sunny spaces. This was the child's playground, -where she first rolled among the daisies, while Mack, led by his nose, -made quest of ground-hog and cottontail; there she sucked clover honey, -was stung by jealous bees, solved the first mystery of the nest and -eggs, told time by puff-ball clocks, and by and by, through playing -make-believe, approached the real. Like the good fairy of a story who -always comes to the christening to mend with her gift any evil that -others have wrought, so at Poppea's naming, Nature the mother was the -invisible sponsor, who gave her three gifts: love of the beautiful -through eye and ear, love of the best through a warm heart, and the -precious gift of the tears that cleanse the spirit. - -As soon as the wind-flowers starred the lowlands and the red bells of -the columbine swung from their many shrines in the rocky banks, Oliver -Gilbert once more resumed his Sunday habit of taking a posy to Mary and -Marygold in God's-acre on the hillside. When the afternoon was right, -Poppea went with him, riding in the old chaise safe in the grasp of -Daddy's left arm. It was on one of the first of these visits that -Gilbert began to train the five-fingered woodbine, that, creeping -through the half-wild grass, clung to the two white stones and would not -be denied. Heretofore he had always pulled it away ruthlessly, but now -he plucked a leaf here, a tendril there, coaxing it gently to make a -living frame about the names and date of day and month, but praying it -to overgrow the _year_ that filled a sunken oval near the base of both -the stones. - -While he worked, he prattled unceasingly, as a child might, to the -little one crawling in the mossy grass to gather the light-hued, -short-stemmed violets and soft-pawed "pussy-toes." She neither paused -nor seemed to heed, yet two sounds heard week after week lingered in her -brain until her tongue should one day release them, and these words were -"Mother" and "Ma'gold." - -There was no Fourth of July celebration at Harley's Mills that year,--no -picnics, no speeches. The depressing summer of McClellan's fruitless -meanderings, as well as lack of money, forbade crackers or fireworks, so -that the return of John Angus with his bride, the second week of the -month, was an event that helped to relieve the general tension. - -Mr. Binks, who saw Mrs. Angus on her arrival as she crossed the platform -of the little station, reported:-- - -"She's good-lookin', middlin' young 'n' dark haired with pale skin. -She's a high stepper 'at knows which way she wants to go, 'n' mark my -words, if John Angus's goin' to foller like she 'spects him to, he'll -have to act freer and more quick'n he ever did for t'other one." - -Next day the village had a shock almost as great as if Lee had suddenly -entered Washington. Mr. and Mrs. Angus appeared, walking in the village -street, he holding her sunshade to the best advantage, while she let her -flounced, fresh organdie gown brush the ground that she might clasp both -her hands over her husband's arm, the white roses on her wide chip hat -tickling his ear the while as she moved her head in talking. - -In and out of the half dozen shops they went marketing (John Angus had -habitually marketed in Bridgeton), she chatting gayly. Presently, as -they reached the post-office, there was a pause. Then she was heard to -say, by a loiterer who sat upon the steps:-- - -"Don't be tiresome, Jack; you mustn't expect me to help keep afloat -senseless old grudges. Please open the door, it hurts my hand. Oh, what -a lovely child!" For though Angus did not actually enter with her, he -held the door back without further opposition. - -"I will take box fifteen," she said to Gilbert with decision. "I see -that it is vacant. Is that your little grandchild? No, your daughter? -You must let your wife bring her up to see me some day. I'm devoted to -little children." - -"I thought that he looked red and was getting mad," the witness said, -"but when she come out, she stuck a big yaller rose she was wearing in -her belt right under his chin, and says she, 'Jack, do you love butter?' -Oh, Lordy, I thought I'd die, her callin' John Angus Jack, and ticklin' -of his chin!" - -Quality Hill called immediately, both those who had previously known -Mrs. Angus in New York as Miss Duane and those who had not. Meanwhile -the stern mansion on Windy Hill relaxed and bade fair to become a factor -in the town, drawing its social life westward. - -There was much discussion among the village people as to Mrs. Angus's -age; at one of the Feltons' piazza days at home, Miss Emmy, by a process -of calculation all her own, said thirty-six, but Mr. Esterbrook -gallantly declared that as looks should be the only way of reckoning -such matters, the lady could be barely twenty-five. - -When Mrs. Angus returned her calls, a trim footman in white tops seated -by the coachman on the box of the barouche, the first ever brought to -Harley's Mills, the good folks stared and raised their hands. When she -took a pew at St. Luke's church, her husband escorting her to the door -each Sunday, they lost their breaths completely. But when she invited -all to a garden party to see a new lawn game called _croquet_ that had -been sent her direct from London by a married sister, they found their -tongues again to wonder if the mastering of its fascinating mysteries -would in any way impeach their loyalty to the Declaration of -Independence; then straightway succumbed as to an epidemic, grace hoops, -battledore and shuttlecock, and even archery having to yield it place. - -If Marcia Angus handled her husband somewhat dramatically, his -satisfaction seemed complete as it was deep. Only two in the place, -Gilbert and Miss Emmy, ever whispered even to themselves that she was -playing the sort of comedy that is only possible to a woman when some -motive of ambition rather than her affections has sway. So that it was a -relief to both when, on the Anguses' return from town late the next -spring, the touch of nature that makes all women kin colored the village -gossip, and it was known that at last there would be a child born in the -great house on Windy Hill. Satira Pegrim, who chatted often with the -gardener's wife, though her brother had never let her take Poppea for -the oft-requested visit to the hill, repeated wild tales of the fineness -of the cambric needlework and lace upon the little wardrobe; of the blue -silk draperies of the south room now fitted for a nursery; of the gilt -bassinet, with its pillow and spread of real lace, and bed, they said, -of swan's-down. - -Finally a new rumor was whispered and then took visible shape. Harley's -Mills, with its staff of competent women, single and widowed, who were -ready and willing to "accommodate," was overlooked; an English head -nurse of the brand accustomed to rear an infant from its birth and -chosen by Mrs. Angus's sister, who had sent croquet, appeared in the -stalwart person of a Mrs. Shandy. - -Then the village pursed its lips, folded its hands, and waited. - - * * * * * - -_Some random extracts from Oliver Gilbert's book, 1863, Jan. 1._--Three -million slaves were freed to-day according to the promise of September. -It had to be, but now I'm wondering what will become of them. Poppea may -see the working out of this, though I shall not. Having her, there's -somebody ahead to hand out hopes and fears to. Without somebody ahead to -keep up with, old feet must stumble and get tired on the march. - -_July the 3._--Meade is in command and they're at it again hot and heavy -around Gettysburg. Morse's boy is there and his grandson, or they were -when it began. We've all been living around the station for the last -three days, just gasping for news like stranded fish for water, but half -the time the operator can't get the wire, and then it's only that -they're at it still, with Lee to the better last night. - -My head is on fire and seem's as if my hands can't feel. What if they -should win--but they _can't while Lincoln's above ground_. - -_July 4._--We've won Gettysburg; but now the fight's over, the fields -yonder are just seeded down with bodies, blue and gray together. The -Union's safe, and all the town boys, big and little, are firing cannons -and muskets, there not being a store that's charging for powder! There's -been hallelujahs in the meeting-house, bell-ringings and speeches on the -green. I've run up both the flags, one atop of t'other, and yet now it's -night and I've come in out of the crowd, it seems like I must put a bit -of black out somewhere for _those others_! The picture of them in the -glass looks darkly, but byme-by, when Poppea comes to read this, mebbe -it'll shine up clear and be seen face to face. Joy and sorrow, there's -always the two around; the matter is _which of us gets which_. - -_July 5._--It's just come in by 'Lisha Potts that plucky Grant, who's -been meandering down-stream and in the marshes this long time, got safe -down the river past the fort and in back of Pemberton's men, and through -battering and starving, Vicksburg has given in! _Hallelujah for -victory!_ say I with the rest, yet I can't get the thought out of my -head of those famished women and children living in ground-holes and -caves to keep out of shot range. Maybe when Poppea is grown, there'll be -some way of keeping peace and right _without this murder_. Perhaps it -might come about even through women themselves! Who knows? - -_July 7._--Joy and sorrow! Both amongst us in this village. John Angus's -wife has borne him his long-wished-for son, but she is dead! - -Oh, God! what has he done to be so dealt with? He bent his will -considerable through love of her, or maybe it was pride. Must it be -altogether broke? Or is it because he withered little Roseleaf? I hauled -my victory flags down just so soon as Dr. Morewood told me. Then I run -the little one back, halfway up. I wouldn't want Angus to think that I -bear malice or was aught but sorry; though if I told him so, he'd likely -read it as a taunt. Mrs. Angus was pleasant spoken to the child and me; -mebbe some day Poppea can pass those kind words back _to the little -boy_. - -_July 10._--To-day they buried her up in God's-acre on the hill. The -flowers and singing were beautiful,--'specially the little boys from -Mr. Latimer's church that he teaches music. Hughey Oldys sang one piece -all alone about flying away on the wings of a dove to find rest. It took -me straight up after it and set me down far away, wondering where little -Roseleaf lies and if any bedded her with flowers and singing. - -The women folks brought home satisfaction from the funeral anyhow, for -there on a graven silver plate was the age out plain--"In her -thirty-seventh year." - - * * * * * - -_1864, July 13._--Early tried to get into Washington yesterday, but he -didn't. What a terrible year it's been so far, and only half over. Blood -it seems everywhere, in earth and sky and sea. Our boys dropping down at -more'n a thousand a day, week in and week out. Can we hold out? Yes, to -the end, with patience; for Lincoln says, "Victory will come, but it -comes slowly." - -There's nobody else left to go soldiering from this town. 'Lisha Potts -was the last likely one and went yesterday. His mother has come down to -widow Baker's and they've sold most of their stock,--fodder and labor -both being so high. Three dollars a day for a man at haying. Tough bull -beef at thirty cents the pound; sack flour taken over from the Mills is -at the rate of seventeen dollars a barrel, and taxes up to eight mills -from five, they say, to help pay the war debt; things look pretty blue -in my purse. Did I do wrong in keeping the child from those who could do -better by her? - -Sister Satira is all shook up by 'Lisha's going. I never suspicioned -before that they were courting. But she claims ever since he hired her -farm it sort of seems as if she belonged with it, and he claims ever -since she left and shut the door more'n half the place is missing. -Satira isn't in any hurry, even if 'Lisha hadn't enlisted, for she says -she had less than a month's courting before and poor quality at that, so -now she means to make it last. - -I pray she does. What would become of us? - -_Nov. 12._--_The Union is safe for Lincoln is reëlected!_ - - * * * * * - -_1865, Feb. 10._--Lincoln wanted to pay the owners something for the -slaves set free, but the cabinet would not let _him_! Others wanted to -hang the chief Rebel leaders, but he would not let _them_. So it goes. I -want the child by and by to think of this every time she sees those -letters that he wrote her Daddy, so's she'll remember what times and -doings she came into to make her loyal to the land and the folks that -stand next her. - -This month the thirteenth amendment to the Constitution was passed that -cuts out slavery from every State and Territory. So help us, God! that -every soul of us on this soil may be free forever more, black or white, -man, woman, or child. Keep us from bondage to ourselves, for slavery -isn't only the body being bought and sold. - -_March 5._--Yesterday, Lincoln took oath again. - -_March 12._--'Lisha Potts came home to-day, honorably discharged and -wounded some, but not past mending. He's been in three battles, and -looks old enough to count out those four years that he's younger than -Satira. Dave Morse came with him, but little Davy lies at Gettysburg. -It seems as if we ones behind can't keep our hands from touching and -feeling of the flesh of them that was there, or our eyes from searching -the eyes of them that have seen! - -_April 5._--Yesterday, Lee surrendered and Richmond fell. This ends the -war. Yet woe is still upon the land. What martyrs' blood must be shed to -cleanse it? - -_April 15._--_He is dead! Assassinated! None else would suffice!_ - -_April 24._--To-morrow we are going to see them take him home, the -child and I. The Fennimans have made me free of their front porch; they -have a house on Union Square, New York. He will pass that way. The -neighbors think I'm crazy to take a child of four or five. She may not -understand, but she will see, and byme-by, some day, it will come back -to her, and she'll be glad that Daddy took her with him. - -_April 25._--We left at daybreak. As it was raw and threatening, the -child wore a little blue cloak and cap like a soldier's that Satira made -to please her last winter. It being eight years since I've seen the -city, I was forced to ask my way, but Mr. Esterbrook being at the -station to meet some friends, he counselled me. Carrying Poppea, for the -streets were thronged, I went out to Madison Square and so down to Fifth -Avenue. Black on every side, hanging from roof to street, black-banded -flags, black bands on people's arms, the great clock shrouded in black. -There were no public stages on the streets that I could see, so I walked -down Fifth Avenue to Seventeenth Street, then eastward to Union Square, -and so down to Fourteenth Street. - -One large building in particular was covered with black from the dormers -down to the street, with all the windows hid by black-trimmed flags. I -asked a passer-by whose house it was, and he told me that it was the -home of a society called the Union League, formed by the best men of -this city for the upholding of the Union. - -We got to the house at half after one o'clock. I don't know how long we -waited, bells tolling. A groan ran up and down the street, and then a -great silence. From where I stood out by the fence, the porch and -verandy being crowded, I could see the black-covered horses swinging -round the corner from Broadway, and after them the car. Down the street -it came, from the corner seemed an hour. I lifted Poppea to the iron -fence post by the walk. The groan rose once more, and then silence, with -all hats off. When the car passed, it seemed as though the world was -dead, and that after the minute guns would follow the last trump! - -Gazing before her at the car, the child pulled her little soldier cap -off, then whispered to me, drawing my head down, "I don't see him, -Daddy. Is he going to heaven in that bed asleep?" "Yes, yes," I said. -"'N' when he wakes up, will he see muvver and Ma'gold and tell 'em we -was here?" - -A band struck up a dirge, so I didn't have to answer. I can't but think -perhaps he'll find _her_ mother, and tell her that there's an old fellow -who couldn't fight, that just lives to right her wrongs. - -After the car a stream of faces followed, men and more men of high-up -societies and committees. I was looking at them without seeing, until -one man passed and looked back as he went, at us I thought. It was John -Angus! My suz, but he's aged or something. His face was drawn as if by -pain or anger, I can't judge which. - -Poppea saw him too, and as he passed she waved her hand, she's such an -eye for faces. Then she turned her mind to some cakes the ladies gave -her, with pink tops. It's wonderful how nature eases things for -children. - -_May 10._--The Anguses are back, and folks say that Philip is not well, -does not keep his footing as a boy should who is turning three. Satira -saw him yesterday, sitting in his little coach behind the parapet, and -she says he looks old and tired across the eyes. - -Some doctors are coming from New York to-night to see him. Morewood only -shakes his head when asked, as much as saying, _I know_, but he will not -believe _me_. - -_May 12._--Mrs. Shandy came down to Satira last evening crying, and -blurted out that Philip has a twist or something in his -backbone,--Pott's disease they call it. He will be a hunchback. "An' -when he looks at me so lovin' with those big gray eyes of his, it seems -that I can't bear it," she sobbed right on Satira's shoulder. - -"What did his father say?" asked she. - -"Mr. Angus? Well he was hard struck and stayed above stairs all -yesterday. But this morning he came down and says to us help standing -by, 'Do all the doctors say, but never mention to my son or to me that -he is different from other boys. Who breaks my order--goes.' Ah! Mrs. -Pegrim, but he's got an awful pride and will; I have my _doubts if God -himself could break it_." - - * * * * * - -_1867, May._ Poppea is past six now and the Misses Felton think she -should have lessons. She knows her letters from her blocks, and Hughey -Oldys reads fairy books to her, but it's the hill-country speech that -worries me, and also the Felton ladies. When I talk, I talk like those I -live among, but when I put pen to paper, I do better, and write more -like those I've met in reading. - -Miss Emmy wants to learn her every day so when she's eight she can go to -the Academy, and being a lady baby as she was, not shame her breeding. -For manners, she's catching them already, and Stephen Latimer says she -has a great ear for music, and can sing anything she hears Hugh sing in -Sunday-school; not out loud, of course, but soft and strange, like a -young bird that's trying. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -INTO THE DARK - - -During the week of the greenest Christmas that had been known at -Harley's Mills for years, sudden and bitter cold turned a heavy rain to -an ice-storm that locked village and country-side, laying low great -trees by the clinging weight of icicles, freezing outright more than one -veteran crow in the roost on Cedar Hill, and making prisoners of the -ruffed grouse and bob-whites in their shelter of hemlock and juniper in -the river woods. - -In two nights Moosatuck became a vast mirror, in which the figures of -the skaters by daylight and torchlight were reflected, framed by -wonderful prismatic colors. Below the falls, however, the water, -tempered by the breath of the sea, bedded the wild fowl, repulsed by the -ice-pointed reed bayonets from their usual shelter. - -From all the bordering towns the people gathered along the banks this -particular Wednesday afternoon in a spirit of holiday festivity, whether -they took the part of actors or spectators. Contrary to the custom of -years, the Feltons and Mr. Esterbrook had returned to Quality Hill for -the week, though quite against the wishes of Miss Elizabeth, who -insisted that for Miss Emmy, with her sensitive lungs, the tropic -atmosphere of a steam-heated New York house, with double windows to -prevent even a breath of fresh air from entering unduly, was the only -place. Miss Emmy, however, had rebelled, and seemed bent upon following -the advice of a young practitioner, who had for two years been -propounding the radical doctrine that fresh, cool air was the natural -cure. The absurdity of his theory was on every tongue, even though he -was backed by a few women of the progressive sort, who are always said -by others to fly in the face of Providence. - -Be this as it may, a quaint old push-sled that had belonged to Madam -Harley, and been many years in the loft at the Mills, presently appeared -on the ice, propelled by Patrick, somewhat indignant at his descent from -the thronelike box of the carriage. When above a mass of fur robes Miss -Emmy's eager face appeared, framed in a chinchilla hood tied with wide -rose-colored ribbons, she was quickly surrounded, even before she had -time to shrug her shoulders free and draw one hand from the depths of -her great muff, extending it toward a young girl who had come toward her -with the grace of a swallow skimming the air, bending to kiss her almost -before she had paused, saying in the same breath: "Oh, Miss Emmy, I'm so -glad that you've come out; I was afraid that we had missed you, and I -must be going soon, for I promised Daddy that I would be home by four. -No, it's not cold if you keep moving, but it will never do for you to -sit stock-still. Please let Hugh push and I will skate beside you, and -Patrick can wait in that old shed yonder, back of the bonfire the boys -have made. - -"We've been pushing Philip Angus all the afternoon. His tutor is ill, -and the man that brought him out only stood about stamping his feet and -beating his hands. It must be hard enough not to be able to skate, for -there's nothing like flying down with the wind and fighting your way -back in spite of it, without having to be stuck in one spot like a snow -man. So we simply made Philip fly along, until he said that he really, -truly felt as if the runners were on his feet instead of on the sleigh, -and his cheeks grew red and his big gray eyes shone so. He is such a -dear little fellow, Miss Emmy, and so clever at making pictures and -images of anything he sees. Last summer he made Mack's head out of pond -clay and baked it in the sun, and it was ever so much like Mack when he -holds one ear up to listen, you know. Then he tried to do a head of Aunt -Satira, but it wasn't so good; the nose and bob of hair behind looked -too much alike. But then he coaxed Mack up through one of the parapet -holes into his garden, but he had to look over at aunty where she sits -to sew or shell peas under the first apple tree. You see, Philip and I -can't visit to and fro like other people, because his father is angry -with Daddy about something that isn't Daddy's fault, but we love each -other over the parapet just the same, so now I have two make-believe -brothers, little Philip and big Hugh." - -Poppea had chattered on without a break in obedience to a signal from -Miss Emmy, who, putting her muff to her face, indicated that the young -girl must carry on the conversation, as she did not think it wise to -talk in the face of the wind. Then looking about for Hugh Oldys, Poppea -saw that he was evidently searching for her in the zigzag line of -skaters near the opposite bank, and as a wave of her scarlet muffler did -not attract his attention, she started in pursuit, still with the grace -of birdlike flight that makes of motion an embodied thought rather than -a muscular action. - -As she glanced after the girl, Miss Emmy seemed to see as a panorama all -the years between the time that she had first found the lady baby in the -post-office house, with Hughey Oldys giving her his beloved tin soldier -and the present, nearly thirteen years. Poppea, now at the crisis of her -girlhood, Hugh in his first college year. Did she realize the lapse of -time? In some ways not at all. Mr. Esterbrook was as courteous and -precise as ever; if his morning walk was a little shorter and his -before-dinner nap a little longer, the change was imperceptible to any -outsider. - -But it was through her interest in Poppea that Miss Emmy knew that time -was passing, and yet the same interest kept middle age from laying hold -upon her, either physically or mentally; Poppea, whom Miss Felton had -from the beginning called Julia as a matter of principle, the second -name having too theatrical a flavor to suit her. At first it had been -the little child of five, coming to take her lesson in needlework on -squares of dainty patchwork, one white, the alternate sprigged with blue -forget-me-nots. The tiny silver thimble and work-box as a reward when -the doll's bed-quilt was completed. With this came almost unconscious -teaching of pretty manners, rising when some one enters the room, -standing until all are seated. - -Next came the discovery that Poppea was all music and rhythmic motion to -her toe tips. At one of the summer afternoon concerts for which Felton -Manor was famous, Louis Moreau Gottschalk had been the soloist, playing -some of his Cuban dances, when to the surprise of all, the child of -seven, who had been sitting on the porch steps listening intently, got -up and, creeping inside the window of the music room, began to dance, -suiting her steps to the music, now slow, now rapid, perfectly -unconscious that any one was present, until the great emotional pianist, -glancing up, finished abruptly, pausing to applaud, and Poppea, brought -suddenly to herself and covered with confusion, fled out into the -shrubbery, where, her face hidden in Mack's soft neck, she cried out her -excitement. Then followed the music lessons, Poppea's legs dangling from -the high piano-stool as Miss Emmy leaned over her, repeating the -ceaseless, "one-two-three (thumb under) four-five-six-seven-eight" of -the scale of C for the right hand. - -Now, born of the last Christmas, a small upright piano stood in the -foreroom of the post-office house, the room being further transformed by -frilled draperies, flowery paper, and a few good prints, while in -another year, Poppea would, if Oliver Gilbert could bring his mind to -allow it, go away to school to have the necessary companionship of girls -of her own age; not that she had the slightest feeling of aloofness or -did not mingle with the village young people in the simplest way. It was -the village people themselves, not Poppea, who seemed to hold aloof, as -if they did not know how to place the girl, who, though belonging at the -post-office, had the freedom of the Felton home, calling the ladies -"aunt." Gilbert could not realize this, and a possible parting put him -in a state of panic, not only for himself, but for her. What questions -might be asked her? What doubts raised? - -The Misses Felton and Mr. Esterbrook, on this topic being united, said, -"Farmington, of course!" Yet they had to confess that there were certain -difficulties in the way, and were oftentimes inclined to agree with Hugh -Oldys's mother, who said in her gentle way, "You may be right, cousins -Felton, but my feeling would be to keep the dear child here close -amongst us, Stephen Latimer helping, so that when the time comes when -she must realize her natural loneliness, she need never otherwise feel -alone." - -Miss Emmy's momentary fit of retrospection was broken by the return of -Poppea and Hugh, skating "cross-hands," and in a moment Miss Emmy was -whirling over the ice until she began to feel, like Philip Angus, that -the runners were on her own feet. - -After a mile of this exhilaration, Hugh pushed the sled into a little -cove, to the shelter of the high bank and a hemlock tree combined, that -he might ease his numb hands and give Poppea a chance to collect her -straggling hair. - -"How do you like that, cousin Emmy?" he cried. "If it wasn't that -gripping that confounded handle bar paralyzes my hands, I could push -you clear up to Kirby; the mischief of it would be coming down again. -Face the wind, Poppy, then your hair will blow back so you can grab it." - -Hugh, of man's strength and stature, was still a boy in the joy of life -that was stamped in every line of his frank, well-featured, dark face. -His hair, tousled by a fur cap, had a wave above the forehead; his -almost black eyes looked straight at you without boldness. The corners -of both nostrils and mouth had a firmness of curve that might either -develop to a keen expression of humor or the power of holding his -emotions in check. - -As he looked at Poppea who, having taken off her red woollen hood, was -struggling to rebraid her long hair that had escaped from its ribbon, -his expression was of the affectionate regard of a boy for his sister, -who is also his chum, and so much a part of his normal life that it -never occurs to him to analyze their relations. - -"Here's your ribbon," he said, tossing it to her at the moment she -reached the end of the strand. "It blew into my hands a quarter of a -mile back. You tie and I'll hold; I never could manage a bow." - -"Put on your hood quick or you'll lose that too," laughed Miss Emmy, -revelling in the youth and freshness of the pair before her. So Poppea -tied tight the ample head-gear crocheted by Satira Pegrim's generous, if -not artistic hands, and in so doing, hid her thick, long mane of golden -brown, with the tints of copper and ash that painters love. Beautiful as -her hair was, the great charm of her face lay in her eyes. These, a -casual observer might say, were hazel, but at times they held slanting -glints of gold and green, like the poppy's heart, shaded by dark lashes, -and all the opal colors: yes, even the fire opal. - -Sometimes as they looked out from under the straight, dark brows, their -expression would have been wistful, almost sad, had it not been for the -upward curve of the lips and tip tilt of the straight nose that -separated them, the sort of a nose that in a child is termed kissable. - -"Once more up to the turn," said Hugh, "and then home. I'm afraid it -will snow to-night and spoil the skating." - -"No, home now; that is, for me," answered Poppea, looking for a hump -where she could take off her skates. "Daddy hasn't been feeling quite -well for a few days and he likes me to look over the mail after he has -tied up the packages. You see, he mismarked one, day before yesterday. -Quarter of four already? Then I shall be late." - -"Not if we take a short cut across the fields and go down the hill -through the cemetery. There's no snow to speak of, and it will be easier -walking that way than over the icy main roads. Yes, I'm going back with -you; I've got to, anyway, for father told me to go to the express office -and also buy a lot of stamps, and I forgot both this noon. - -"Bah! How cold my hands are! I wonder if, by any chance, Mrs. Pegrim -would give a couple of tramps a cup of tea and a doughnut." - -"Not tea, Hugh, chocolate with whipped cream on top, and I'll make it. -I've learned up at the Feltons'; the aunties have it every afternoon, -and it's delicious." - -In this mood, the girl and man tramped over the brown-and-white meadows -with their tumbledown stone fences, until in the high pickets of the -graveyard fence they met the first real obstruction, which they avoided -by going around to the north gate that opened above Oliver Gilbert's -plot. - -"I hope the ice hasn't broken the young dogwoods," said Poppea; "they -were growing so nicely. No, but they are bending. Stop one minute, Hugh, -and help me break off the biggest icicles that are weighing down these -branches until they will snap. - -"Oh, look! the ice and wind have torn all the vines from Mother's stone -and Daddy will feel dreadfully; he's trained it so as to make a frame -and he would never let me touch even a leaf. I wonder if we can put it -back? No," and she stooped to lift the vine; "the ice is too heavy." - -As Poppea bent over she suddenly slipped to her knees before the stone, -her eyes fixed upon it with an intensity amounting to terror. Hugh, -close behind her, followed her glance. For a second, neither moved or -spoke, then turning toward him, her hands outstretched and pleading, she -cried:-- - -"Look, Hugh! look quick, and tell me if the snow has blinded me, or are -those numbers 1851?" - -He stooped and looked intently before he answered what he already knew, -had known, these half dozen years; then said, "It is 1851, Poppea." - -"But it must be a mistake then of the stone-cutters, that we've never -noticed before because of the vines; it should be 18_6_1, the year that -I was born and Mother died, so that I never saw her. - -"Don't you think that is the way of it, Hugh? Why don't you speak? What -ails you?" - -Again she turned from the stone to look him in the face. Something she -saw there struck a chill into her more penetrating than the icy ground -on which she continued to kneel. - -Poor Hugh Oldys! What avail was his athletic strength or moral courage? -If his playmate had been drowning, burning, or in any other form of -physical peril, he could have dashed through anything, or even killed -men to rescue her from harm, but now--He stood facing the intangible, -with bent head, helplessly groping for some way of escape, not so much -for himself as for Poppea. The truth lay bare before them, and he knew -that it could no longer be veiled. The protective instinct of manhood -told him to get her home quickly and under cover, that the blow need not -seem so brutal as in the open cold. While he was trying to collect -himself and form a plan, Poppea's intuition, keyed almost to second -sight, was reading his mind through his eyes. - -"You do not think the date is a mistake, but you don't know what to -say!" - -The words came out so slowly that her lips hardly seemed to form them; -then Poppea faced the stone once more, her hands pressed to the sides of -her face. - -"If 1851 is right, then '_Mary, beloved wife of Oliver G. Gilbert_' -can't be my mother. Do you understand, Hugh? Not my mother. Why don't -you speak? Oh, do say something, Hugh; that is, if you understand!" - -Stumbling to her feet, Poppea went to the little stone and, pulling away -the vine, exposed the other date, 1852! - -"Then Marygold isn't my sister either! Who was my mother, Hugh? And -Daddy--isn't Daddy my father? Tell me, you must!" - -Grasping Hugh by the shoulders, half to steady herself, half in frenzy, -she shook him as she swayed to and fro. - -"Come home, Poppea, and ask Daddy himself; he is the one to tell you all -about it," the lump in Hugh's throat almost stopping his voice, as he -took her arm and tried, without force, to turn her homeward. But Poppea -was at bay. Still holding fast and looking in his face, she gasped:-- - -"What were my mother's and father's names? Tell me that _now_! Where did -Daddy get me? Tell me that!" - -Unconsciously Hugh shook his head, at the same time his lips said, "This -also you must ask Daddy." - -"That means that no one knows; that I'm not anybody, not anybody," she -repeated with a moan. "Did Miss Emmy and Mr. Esterbrook and 'Lisha and -Aunt Satira and everybody know but me? Does little Philip know? Take -your hand off my arm, Hugh. I'm not going home any more; how can I, when -I haven't a home or even a _dead_ mother or a Daddy, and every one has -deceived me?" - -The poor young fellow, meanwhile, was trying to lead her toward the -highway gate in the hope that a team might pass so that they could beg a -ride, for heavy snow clouds were hastening the dark, and even he began -to feel the chill of it through his pea-jacket, while Poppea was -colorless and rigid as one of the icicles that hung from the trees. -Could this be the same being who, less than an hour before, joyous and -radiant, was skating up the river holding Miss Emmy by the hand? If she -had cried, ever so passionately, it would have reassured him. - -"If you don't want to go back, you must go over to my mother or Miss -Emmy," he said, as she again halted outside the gate in sight of the -cross-roads. "Listen, I hear a wagon in the turnpike; wait a moment -while I stop it and beg a ride down; you are trembling all over, and if -you stay here any longer, you'll be very ill maybe." - -Hugh ran down the side road to the turnpike in time to stop the team, a -wave of relief sweeping over him when he saw that it was 'Lisha Potts -taking his evening milk down to the centre. ('Lisha, who was still -courting Satira Pegrim.) - -To 'Lisha no explanation was needed save the fact of the discovery of -the date and the need of getting Poppea home. - -"Great snakes!" he ejaculated, closing his jaw with the snap of a steel -trap. "So it's come at last! At the very first I rather sided with -Gilbert's keeping the thing dark from her, but Satiry had the common -sense,--'It's got to come,' says she, 'so why not let her grow up with -an aunty and uncle and fetch up to it drop by drop instead of gettin' -the whole thing some day like a pail of cold water on the head that may -jar the brain.' Now it seems the cold water's come. Go back and fetch -her, Hughey man, I'll wait; but I can't turn this long wagon on a hill -noway, nohow." - -Hugh hurried back, calling Poppea's name as he went, but when he reached -the gate, she was gone. - -Rushing frantically to and fro, he looked back into the graveyard and -behind the long line of stone fence opposite that the night was fast -blending with its other shadows, but Poppea was nowhere to be seen. - -"She would ha' passed this way if she'd gone down home," said 'Lisha, -now thoroughly startled at Hugh's drawn face and hurried words of what -had happened. "I can see almost all the way down the other road, and she -ain't on that. 'Tain't like she'd take to the hill-country this time o' -night. Anyway, it isn't no use trying to track her; the ground's froze -so hard it doesn't take a hoof print. Well, come to think of it, if that -isn't darned queer! It was froze jest like this the night she was left -at Gilbert's! Best come down to the centre and I'll drop this milk and -borrer a buggy and you and me'll do some tall searchin'. It does look -some as if the Lord had meant I was to be sort of trackin' of the little -gall from the beginnin'. But mebbe it's jest because I'm a good deal -round about and keep my eyes open. - -"You'll best tell Gilbert, but make him stay to hum, and we'll do the -searchin'. It's no fit night for his lame leg; jest say 'Lisha Potts's -going on the trail and he'll trust me, and mention to Satiry that the -coffee-pot on the back of the stove'll make a nice picture for us when -we get back." - -Meanwhile, the long-legged horses were making good time toward the -village, and presently, as Hugh entered the post-office, he could see -Oliver Gilbert's face looking anxiously up the road through the window -by the beehive, for the Binks boy had already come for the mail-bag. - -"Where's Poppy? Has anything happened? Don't say she's fell through the -ice and drowned!" Gilbert said almost in a whisper. - -"No, no, she's safe enough," and Hugh paused, realizing that even these -words might not be true. - -"Sit down, Daddy" (Hugh had fallen into using Poppea's epithets). "I -must tell you something." - -Hugh told all as it had happened, repeating Poppea's broken sentences -word for word with unconscious emphasis and pathos. Then, after giving -'Lisha's message, he stopped short and, still standing, looked at the -old man, who was sitting motionless. - -Gilbert arose with difficulty, steadying himself by the table corner. -"Go, Hugh, and do you and 'Lisha do the best you can. She--she came to -me in the night, and in the darkness she has gone from me," and hiding -his face in his arm he left the office and, stumbling across the passage -to the house, passed through the kitchen and entered his bedroom, where -he closed and locked the door. - -Hugh followed to say a few words to Satira, and remind her of the -deserted post-office. She, overcoming her desire to set forth the -fulfilment of her prediction in all its details, sat down suddenly in -the rocker, head between her hands, until the honest tears spattered -both on the floor and on the coat of old Mack, who, gray and rheumatic, -still kept the place, half under the stove, that he had first chosen -almost thirteen years before. - -Oliver Gilbert meanwhile paced up and down the inner room, the irregular -tapping of his heels telling its own story to Satira Pegrim, though she -could not see the pitiful working of his face or the nervous clenching -of his long, thin hands. Presently he paused by the hooded cradle that -stood as of old between the bed and wall. Lighting a candle, he set it -upon the chest of drawers, where its rays fell upon the cradle. Upon the -white counterpane was a little bouquet of Prince's pine, wintergreen -berries, and holly ferns that Poppea had placed there on Christmas eve. - -Stiffly Gilbert dropped to his knees, his arms clasped about the cradle -as on that first night.--"God keep her and lead her in somewhere out of -the cold and harm. Oh, Lord! I've been short-sighted and selfish. I -wanted her for my very own so bad that I've lived out a lie rather than -have the truth come between ever so little. Now she is suffering for it -when it should only be me. I was puffed up and said to myself in my -pride,--'A wrong has been laid at my door because the Lord knew that I -would right it,'--but instead I have added to it. Oh, Lord! have pity; -keep her away from the river and the railroad and Brook's pea-brush -swamp until she gets time to think." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -SANCTUARY - - -When Hugh Oldys left Poppea by the graveyard gate, her first blind -impulse was to hide somewhere, anywhere from familiar faces, this being -an instinct common to all healthy young animals when either physically -hurt or in trouble. Knowing as she did all the by-ways, lanes, and pent -roads of the entire township, the very last thing she thought of was to -follow the highway or any of its cross-roads. So when Hugh was peering -among the shadows of the walls and bushes that hedged them on either -side, Poppea was crossing the graveyard toward the Northeast gate by -which they had entered, flitting swiftly behind the larger stones for -concealment. - -She had no voice to answer Hugh's call even if she had wished to; her -throat was contracted and dry, and to her ears, still ringing with the -rush of blood brought by the first shock, his voice sounded miles away. -When finally she heard the rattle of the milk wagon going unmistakably -downhill, she stopped her efforts at concealment, and walking directly -to the round hill above the graveyard took such a view of the -surroundings as the dusk would allow. The bitter north wind sweeping -down from the hill-country turned her about when she faced in that -direction, putting an end to a wild idea she had of spending the night -in a rough camp the young people had made the previous summer in the -hemlock woods. The Moosatuck was already being outlined by many bonfires -and all the lanterns that the young folks could collect, for they meant -to make the most of what might prove the only snowless skating of the -winter. - -The village lights began to twinkle below, and an up train, stopping at -Harley's Mills Station, drew out again, taking long breaths, and, -creeping through the fields like a great glow-worm, made its way toward -Bridgeton. There would be a down train in a quarter of an hour; could -she reach the station in time, she might gain the last car from the -brook side of the track without being seen. - -Then she realized that she had no money, and the Felton ladies, her only -friends in what was to her the fathomless mystery of New York, were at -Quality Hill. Could she have gone to Mrs. Oldys, sure of finding her -alone, and begged to be hidden for a few days, that would have suited -her mood and necessities the best. As she closed her eyes for a moment, -she saw the peaceful picture of Mr. Oldys sitting with his evening paper -by the fire in the library of endless books in their white, varnished -cases, discussing the doings of the day with Hugh. Through the doorway -into the dining room was a glimpse of white-clothed table, a jar of -flowers, and the delicate outlines of Mrs. Oldys' sensitive face, as she -bent over the great silver tray, tea-caddy in hand, watching for the -first puff of steam from the kettle in order to complete the brewing of -her perfect tea, and summon the father and son to table. - -To go there would be once more to give herself up to all the dearest -things of home that she had experienced through the kindness of friends, -but thought that she must forever more lack; but above all, she was held -back by a bitter feeling of resentment toward those who had been kind to -her, for had they not all banded to deceive her? she, who was nobody, -saved from charity possibly,--so quickly did her mind travel ahead of -what she knew,--from being a town charge! At this bitter moment, the -conventional expression came back to her as applied to a child who was -being brought up by the widow Baker, much being expected of her and -little done for the girl. - -Poppea did not analyze her feelings, she was too young and too miserable -for any logical reasoning; it was only that impressions crowded her -brain with the rapid confusion of a nightmare, and at this moment the -germs of two distinct natures began to develop rapidly: one sensitive -and emotional; the other stern, proud, and unflinching to the verge of -stubbornness. - -For a few moments she stood thus, overlooking the village, the upland, -and marsh meadows that stretched to salt water, until it seemed that the -winking eyes of the lights, one red and one yellow, that guarded the -entrance of the shallow bay, were beckoning her to come to them. As she -waited, a curtain dropped about her from the clouds, and fine, crisp -snowflakes melted upon her upturned face. - -Then she began to walk rapidly through the pasture, but whichever way -she turned thickets of bay or huckleberry bushes caused her to go back, -until, tired with groping, her feet found a worn track, one of the many -cow-paths that wound about the lot. Keeping to it, no longer trying to -think but walking blindly, she slipped and lost the narrow hollow worn -smooth in the thick old turf; then picking it up again, stumbled on. - -After she had gone many miles, as she thought, the path came to some -bars; two of these were down, left so probably since the cows had made -their last homeward trip in November. On the other side of the bars, the -path that had previously zigzagged down a steep hillside continued on a -level, and the whistle of a locomotive sounded very near. - -In a few minutes more a great hayrick stopped her short, and feeling a -way around it, she could see two cows, who were pulling their supper -from one side of the stack that had been hollowed into a sort of shelter -by many such meals. Then a lantern shone a few steps ahead, and a voice, -that she recognized as belonging to an old neighbor of their own, called -the cows into the shelter of the barnyard. - -Poppea, finding that she had travelled only a mile and was within a few -feet of the village street, and thinking that the farmer had awakened -and come to protect his cattle from the storm, was tempted to crawl into -the hay for warmth and rest; her feet were almost without feeling, her -hood and muffler were frayed in many places; she shivered so that she -had bitten her tongue until it bled, and faintness was creeping over -her. - -As she groped to find a place where the hay was loose enough to make a -place for her body, the clock in the tower of St. Luke's struck -melodiously, not counting out ten or eleven strokes as Poppea expected, -but stopping short at six. - -It was the joy of Stephen Latimer that both clock and bells sent forth a -cheerful message of love and hope for what good time might bring forth -rather than a warning of passing hours. 'Lisha Potts had once voiced -this interpretation with his characteristic direct emphasis, saying one -day to Miss Emmy, who had given the bells and was asking his opinion of -them:-- - -"Yes, marm, they're real coaxin', persuasive, and comfortable; the First -Church bell allers calls jerky like, 'Re-pent, re-pent, re-pent,' and -the Hill Meeting House's says, 'H E L L! HELL! _Hell!_' plain as words, -so's I don't feel called to go, though they do say bein' set against a -rock has a powerful lot to do with the expression." - -Be this as it may, the chimes had hardly ceased when Poppea left the -haystack and found her way to the main road through another pair of -bars, familiar to all the village children as the daily short cut to the -Academy. Perhaps the church door might be unlocked, it often was; surely -no one would look for her there. - -The snow flurry was one of a series of squalls, that stopped long enough -for her to see her way across the road, also that a dim light came -through the chancel window. Then the snow began to fall again in large, -loose flakes that quickly filled her footprints. - -Her scarf caught upon one of the shrubs that lined the bit of flagged -path from road to door, and when she had pulled herself free, she -noticed that the outer porch door stood open; then the notes of the -organ reached her. - -What day was it? It took her a full minute to remember that it was -Wednesday, the afternoon upon which Stephen Latimer played the organ, -only it was much later than he usually stayed. Expecting that the people -might come out at any moment, Poppea tried to turn away, but she was -nearly spent. Pulling herself into the vestibule with great effort, she -looked through the diamond panes of the inner door into the church; it -was quite empty save for the figure of Latimer himself at the organ, a -single lamp above his head breaking the darkness. The truth being that -the skating carnival had drawn all the people toward the Moosatuck, and -finding himself alone, Latimer had this day let loose his very soul, -dreaming and playing on, oblivious of time or falling night. - -Cautiously Poppea pushed open the felt-edged door and crept into the -church, watching intently for any move on the part of the player. Once -within she slipped into the first of the pair of pews, that were in the -deep shadow of the loft that once held the organ before the new -instrument had been placed beside the chancel. The backs and door ends -were high to keep out draughts; likewise these pews were seldom used -except for the infant class. Sinking upon the tufted seat, after trying -in vain to sit up, she gradually took a half-crouching position, her -head and shoulders supported by one of the little carpet footstools. - -Oh! the unspeakable relief of it, after the hour out in the storm, this -being surrounded once more by friendly walls, the sudden cessation of -cold, the light, the subtle fragrance of the fir trees and pine of the -Christmas greens, and the sight of a human being who was, at the same -time, unconscious alike of her presence as of her misery. - -Stephen Latimer, sitting upon the organ bench with the soft light of the -oil lamp outlining his face, looked little, if any, older than on the -day when he had baptized Poppea. It was his double vocation that kept -him young, for in reality he led two separate lives: in one he was the -tireless and sympathetic priest; in the other, romanticist, musician, -and dreamer. To-night he was leading this second life to the full. Once -he set the stops in order as though he had finished, then releasing a -few of the more delicate, he began to improvise, weaving together the -themes of the Christmas carols in which he had been drilling his little -choir throughout the Advent season. The very joy of the strains seemed -to mock the young girl listening back among the shadows, and she sat -upright with a gesture almost of impatience, so far away seemed the -singing and lighted tree of Christmas Eve. - -Presently his mood dropped from exalted joy down into the depths of -stern reality, and the little church began to tremble with the opening -chords of the _Stabat Mater_ of Rossini. - -Poppea knew nothing of the meaning of the music or the idea that it -interpreted, yet the emotion of it seized upon her, and she felt that -something inexplicable had found her in the dark hiding-place, and was -struggling with her body and soul. Her breath came quick and fast when -Latimer began the massive splendor of _Cujus Animam_, and when he let -the stop _Vox Humana_ sing the unpronounced words of _Sancta Mater_, it -seemed as though she must cry out, while the _Amen_ exalted her, but -painfully, and without final relief. - -Evidently, it had somewhat the same effect upon the organist, for he -stopped abruptly, wiped his forehead, that was beaded by the masterly -exertion, and, passing his hand wearily across his eyes, shut off the -stops still quivering with passion, leaving only _Vox Humana_, and then, -after a moment's pause, played the hymn of childhood, as though -convinced that in its simplicity alone lay peace. - - "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, - Look upon a little child." - -Poppea rose to her feet, grasping the back of the seat in front of her: -the hymn was the first that Gilbert had taught her while she still slept -in the hooded cradle. At last God was merciful: the tension broke; tears -rained from her strained eyes and began to quench the fire in her brain. - -Burying her face in her hood to stifle the blessed sobs, she again -crouched in the pew corner. - -At the same time, the door opened and Mrs. Latimer came into the church; -feeling her way, she steadied herself by the door of the pew where -Poppea lay until her eyes focussed to the surroundings. As Latimer -reluctantly closed the keyboard with the lingering of one parting from a -friend, she called, walking toward him as she spoke: "Stevie dear, what -have you been about? It is half-past seven and the popovers that I made -for tea have grown quite discouraged. I was expecting you hours ago, but -Hugh Oldys came rushing in looking so ghastly that he put everything -else out of my head. He was coming home with Poppy Gilbert from skating, -they took the short cut across the graveyard--" then, as Mrs. Latimer -reached her husband, she leaned over his shoulder and finished the -sentence, but the crouching girl knew its import perfectly. - -In a moment, husband and wife were hurrying from the church. As Stephen -Latimer stooped to bolt the swinging inner door, Poppea heard Mrs. -Latimer say, "Elisha Potts and Hugh are hunting everywhere, but if they -do not find her by nine o'clock, don't you think we would better ring -the church bells to collect the skaters and have a general search?" - -"Yes, if it must be; but I wish we could find some less public way of -reaching her, she is such a sensitive child, yet very proud beneath the -surface. Do you know, Jeanne, she very often reminds me of you yourself. -If you had fled before a cruel hurt, would you like to be brought home -by the ringing of bells?" - -"No, Stevie, all I should need _now_ would be time to remember and know -that you were waiting for me with your arms outstretched." - -Then the doors closed, and Poppea was a prisoner. Yet in those few -moments she had been given a glimpse of the perfection of one of the -great mysteries of life, and it made a lasting impression on the soul of -the girl who was pushed into womanhood in a single night. For the time -being she had what she most needed, rest and silence, with the single -lamp that had been forgotten, to prevent the oppression of darkness. She -was too physically numb to care what happened during the next hour or -realize the possible necessity of the ringing of the bells. Fixing -herself as comfortably as might be on the narrow seat, she fell into a -heavy sleep pillowed by the little carpet stool worn bare by the -restless feet of the infant class children. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile 'Lisha Potts and Hugh Oldys had gone to all the places where -Poppea would have been likely to take refuge, and finally, a little -before nine o'clock, meeting with Stephen Latimer at the Feltons', where -they snatched a hasty supper, held an impromptu consultation. - -"Do you think," sobbed Miss Emmy, "that she could have drowned herself? -It's all open water below the dam at Harley's Mills." - -"No," almost shouted Latimer, "and do not let us give the ugly thought -shape even by suggestion. To a healthy-minded, responsible girl such as -Poppea, the idea would not even occur, for suicide is the final proof of -irresponsibility. That she may be wandering, dazed, in the bay marshes -is my greatest fear; still, before we make a general hue and cry, let us -go back to Gilbert's and ask him his exact wishes. Whoever may be her -father after the flesh, Gilbert is now according to the law." - -"Yes," seconded 'Lisha, "we'd best go back and ask Daddy, and keep a -good lookout by the way. She may head for home after a while, but not -have push enough to get there." - -For the third time during the twelve hours the mood of the weather had -changed. The wind had parted and banished the heavier snow clouds, and -the moon, edging its way persistently through those that remained, made -the lanterns that the three men carried almost unnecessary. - - * * * * * - -Oliver Gilbert had sorted and distributed the seven o'clock mail, closed -the post-office at the earliest legal moment, and was sitting by the -kitchen fire; that is, he sat there in the brief intervals when he was -not peering from the window toward the road or listening at the -different doors where the wind kept up a disconcerting tapping and -rattling. - -For the third time Satira Pegrim spread supper before her brother, but -she had ceased urging him to eat. Mixing his coffee exactly to his -taste, she set it close to his elbow and then silently left the room. As -she closed the door at the bottom of the attic stairs and began a -creaking ascent, Gilbert called after her: "Satiry, will you fetch the -pair of little iron fire dogs from under the eaves when you come down? -They lie to the north side under where the seed corn is hung." - -Noticing the food apparently for the first time, he ate a few morsels, -drank the coffee slowly, and then going to the side porch collected a -large armful of logwood topped with kindlings which he proceeded to -carry upstairs with no little difficulty, and coming in collision with -his sister on the landing at the top. - -"Sakes alive, man, what are you doing!" she cried, almost dropping the -heavy andirons. - -"I'm going to take out the chimney board in Poppy's room and start a -fire so's it will look real cheerful when she comes home--for--she'll be -tired and cold--most like. Mayhap the hearth'll need brushing," he -added; "the swallows' nests always fall down of a winter." - -The spare bedroom that was now Poppea's had an empty look, in spite of -the bright-flowered wall paper and braided rugs. The straight white -drapery at the windows, and on the old high-posted bed in which several -generations had been ushered into the world, suggested ice and snow to -Gilbert rather than a soft fabric. - -"Haven't you got a warm-looking comfortable to throw over that?" he said -to Mrs. Pegrim, who was standing in the doorway, jerking his thumb over -his shoulder toward the bed without looking at it. When, after a few -minutes of kneeling on the hearth and coaxing with the bellows, the -ruddy glow of the fire had penetrated all the ghostly nooks, Gilbert got -up and looked about with a sigh of satisfaction, letting his eyes rest -upon the white bed for the first time. - -Asking Satira to watch the fire until the sparks from the kindlings had -subsided, he lit a lantern and made his way slowly to the little -workshop back of the post-office, and seating himself before his desk, -drew out the shabby ledger in which was written the record of the years -since Poppea's coming. Below the record of the previous day he drew a -heavy line. Then writing _December twenty-eighth_, across the entire -page, he traced under it, writing painfully and making three strokes to -every letter,--"This day has the Lord taken the pen from my hand to put -it into hers. In three days comes a New Year. Amen." From a panel -beneath the drawer, that flew open when he touched the spring, he drew -the miniature and its slender chain, wrapped in a piece of chamois -leather. - -It was several years since he had looked at it; yes, he was almost sure -that the young woman must be of Poppea's blood, if not her mother, for -the likeness between the two was now more than mere fancy. Dropping it -into his pocket, he returned to Poppea's bedroom, where he fastened the -miniature against the frilled pincushion on top of the high chest of -drawers, and lighting the candles in the two straight glass holders that -had been Miss Emmy's Christmas gift, set one on either side of it, then -laid the precious book upon her work-table by the window, and crept back -to the kitchen, where Mack was whining uneasily as though he missed some -one, and scratching at the door to be let out. - - * * * * * - -Elisha Potts took the lead as the three men started on their slippery -walk from Quality Hill down through the main street of the village. As -they reached the Rectory, Mrs. Latimer flitted out to ask for news. When -they came abreast of the church, her husband, who had a veiled idea that -he had left the lamp burning, glanced up at the chancel window only to -be reassured that all was dark within. - -Brief as the stop was, Hugh Oldys, who had half turned toward the -flagged pathway, saw something fluttering from one of the shrubs; -raising his lantern he recognized it as a fraying of Poppea's scarf. - -"She has passed this way," he cried, "and since the snow has stopped, -for the worsted is quite dry, while the bush is crusted!" but lowering -the lantern to the pavement, the footprints there shown were confused -and told nothing, as Mrs. Latimer had gone in alone and come out with -her husband. - -"Have you the keys, Mr. Latimer? We must look here, though of course she -may have merely stumbled into the bushes and gone on." - -"I have them in my pocket, but I was in the church alone until half-past -seven and heard no one." - -"Most likely not, if you was a-playin' the organ," said 'Lisha, "for you -kin make her beller powerful disconcertin', Parson. Lemme have them -keys." - - * * * * * - -How long Poppea slept, she did not know. When she awoke, the church was -in total darkness, the lamp having burned out, and the cold of the -floor was creeping up to where she lay. Sitting up, she touched -everything in reach, yet could not place herself. Was it one of the -mazes of a bad dream? - -Then the pungence of the fir trees came to her, and the moon without -outlined the long window over the chancel. - -Something shook the outer door, and then some one fumbled at the keyhole -of the inner. The door was cautiously pushed open, and Poppea heard Hugh -Oldys's voice saying, "Go quietly and don't stamp so, Potts; she may be -asleep," and then Stephen Latimer's lantern was turned so full upon her -face that she raised her arm to shield her dazzled eyes. - -Hugh and Elisha drew back into the doorway, and it was Latimer who, -sitting beside her, said: "We have come to take you home, Poppea. How -long have you been here?" The answer came in a whisper. - -"Ever since six o'clock." - -"Then you were here while I was playing; it was you who were struggling -with yourself. It seemed to me suddenly as I played that some one was in -hard conflict, and that I must play to help them in some unseen way. I -did not dream that it was you, my child. Now I know from the soul that -struggled with me that you are ready to go home." - -"Let me give her some supper and go up with her," begged Jeanne Latimer -in her husband's ear, as she, alarmed by their long stay in the church, -joined them when they were leaving. "Send Hugh home, and ask Potts to -let Oliver Gilbert know that she will soon be there. She needs a woman -of her own sort to be with her at this moment, not Satira Pegrim." - -A pressure of the hand from Latimer told her that she was right, and -putting an arm about Poppea, she drew her into the Rectory and -ministered to her by the dim firelight, and presently the two were -driven to the post-office house by Potts, going together to Poppea's -room without meeting any one except old Mack. - -For a moment Poppea paused, her hand on the doorknob. The crackling -sound of the fire within made her turn it quickly. Mrs. Latimer hastened -to undress her, for she was nervously exhausted, and a red spot glowed -in the middle of each white cheek. - -As Poppea stood before the chest of drawers to braid her straggling -hair, her eyes fell on the miniature. Seizing it, she gazed at the face -intently, and then, with dilating eyes, turned to Mrs. Latimer. - -"Who is it?" she whispered; "how did it come here?" - -"You brought it with you about your neck the night you came. We do not -know, Daddy and I; we can't be sure, but we think it must have been your -mother." - -Without speaking, Poppea looked at it once more, put her hand to her -face as though struggling intently with memory, pressed the picture to -her lips, and then slipped the chain about her neck. - -Lying back between the white curtains with the flowery counterpane -across her breast, her loosely braided hair wreathing her head, the -resemblance to the miniature became almost startling, but Jeanne Latimer -put a restraint upon her tongue and all she wished to say. Stooping, -she quickly kissed Poppea good-night. - -"Shall I never know anything more?" Poppea asked pleadingly; "isn't -there anything to tell except that I am not me--that I don't belong to -them?" - -"Yes, a little more, but the telling of that belongs to Daddy." Then -even as Mrs. Latimer spoke, Poppea's expression changed, the mouth -hardened, and a rigid expression mantled the delicate features, that -remained after the long fringed lashes shut out the changeful fire of -her eyes. - -Waiting a moment to see if they would open again, Mrs. Latimer tiptoed -out. - -From forcing her eyes shut, Poppea really dozed, and only awakened as -the candles gave their final splutter before going out. Mack lay upon -the mat before the fire twitching and whining in his sleep. Starting up, -she felt, rather than saw, that there was some one in the room. Peering -around the curtain, she came face to face with Oliver Gilbert, who, -wrapped in his double gown, was sitting in the deep chintz chair by her -bedside. - -Instantly a long, thin hand was laid upon hers that struggled under it -for a moment but could not pull itself away. - -"Some things are real if others are hid from us for a little while, -Poppy. You see your home is here, yours to have and hold under love and -law, and you see you've still got a Daddy; perhaps if you'd _say_ the -word just once, we'd both feel better." - -The prisoned hand stopped struggling; raising herself on one arm she -repeated slowly, "Yes, I've a Daddy." Then she hid her face upon his -shoulder, the miniature of the other Poppea dangling from her neck. - -When she fell asleep, he did not go away, but sat there, replenishing -the fire lest she should wake in some new terror. - -Thus Gilbert kept his second vigil until dawn. In putting a last stick -upon the embers he stumbled over Mack, who did not move; his faithful -old life had gone out peacefully in the night, and with it his -mistress's careless girlhood. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE MYSTERY OF THE NAME - - -It being Saturday and market-day, Satira Pegrim had gone to Bridgeton -with 'Lisha Potts to look at furniture, for liberal as to matters of -time though Potts was as a wooer, he had told Satira on Christmas Day -that when a man reached fifty it was time he did something more about -settling down than talk of it. Satira, on the whole, had enjoyed a very -pleasant courtship during the years of her reign at the post-office. It -is given to few women to attend the county fair for thirteen consecutive -years at the expense of the same man without incurring further -responsibility. - -She was now divided between conscientious motives about leaving her -brother until Poppea was able to keep house, and the fear lest 'Lisha -become discouraged and transfer his affections to Judith, daughter of -the widow Baker. This veteran, having failed to secure a second spouse -for herself, was now trying to checkmate in turn every available man in -the county for the benefit of her daughter. The Bakers lived almost -opposite the Pegrim farm that 'Lisha leased, and well Satira knew that -nearness means a good deal, especially in winter, so she had consented -to look at furniture, saying demurely at the same time:-- - -"Of course, if you wish my housekeepin' 'xperience in trading, it'll -pleasure me to give it, but if you want a woman that can rush into -things helterskelter and unthinkin', why not try Judy Baker?" - -"No old maids for me, Satiry," he flung back, slapping his knees to give -emphasis to his words. "When I get spliced, it'll hev to be either a -young woman or a widder, the last bespoke and preferred." - -"Sakes alive! and what's Judy but a young woman? She's only turning -twenty-four." - -"Age hasn't got a thing to do with it; there's old maids at twenty and -women folks turning forty that though unmarried ain't, and is young." - -"Oliver Gilbert, he hit them differences plumb on the head once't some -years back, when he was havin' considerable trouble in making folks -understand that he wasn't calculatin' to take a second. Gilbert he's -read lots of unor'nary thoughts in books, and he says, says he: ''Lisha, -there's three kinds o' females when it comes to considerin' matrimony: -widders that understand us men through 'xperience; just plain nice women -folks that know what's necessary about us by intooition, as the Lord -meant they should; and old maids that thinks they're dead wise, but all -they know's by suspicion. Now don't you take one of those last, 'cause -they suspect so much more bad of us than we really are that their idee -is darned hard to live up tew!' Well, just at that time what I took to, -was not gettin' married, but to the woods, and went in for trapping and -lumbering for quite a spell. - -"Judy Baker's terrible knowin' by suspicion. When she shakes hands, -she'll jerk hern away before a man's really caught his grip, like she -most _knew_ he was goin' to squeeze it, which he, bein' I, hadn't no -such idee. Then she looks mad, 'cause he, bein' I, didn't." - -After this complete understanding, Satira Pegrim, who felt that in -addition to the trip of inspection 'Lisha deserved some more positive -encouragement, told him that if he would begin and mend the fence up at -the farm and reshingle the buildings, she would begin to sew her carpet -rags and sheets, and that would give them both time to be ready by -Poppea's sixteenth birthday--this being the earliest age in Newfield -County at which a well-brought-up girl could be expected to keep house, -with a neighbor to accommodate in matter of washing and house cleaning. - -'Lisha, jubilant over something so definite, not only bought tickets for -Christy's Minstrels that chanced to be in Bridgeton that night, but -insisted that they two sup at the Railway Hotel as well. Hence Satira's -prolonged absence. - -Thus it chanced that in two days after the night of Poppea's awakening, -the post-office house, put in order from attic to porch, was left in her -charge, and in the afternoon she read Gilbert's record written in the -old ledger, they two sitting together in the long kitchen where the -first scene had been set. - -As she read, Gilbert, from the south window, where he sat fitting and -adjusting an intricate bit of clockwork, furtively watched the varying -color and expression of her face. After slowly reading his simple story, -Poppea could not feel for a second that she was an unloved intruder, or -fail herself to be filled anew with love for the old man who had opened -his door. Her quick intuition and rapidly developing mentality scanned -between the lines, learning of many acts of self-sacrifice and devotion -that Gilbert believed locked securely in his own thoughts. It was the -_why_ of it all that rankled: the circumstances, people, or both that -had made the charity necessary. When the girl thought of this, a steely -flash came from her eyes, and the will that had been latent, except for -childish bursts of impetuosity, set its signals at the corners of lips -and nostrils, making the watcher sigh. - -"Well, perhaps she may need it to stiffen her up by and by, who knows," -said Gilbert to himself; "if only the Lord lets her always love -something harder than she hates something else." - -Dear, patient Oliver Gilbert, in those few words he summed up the -struggle that Poppea must fight her way through in the next ten years. -Would she be victor or vanquished? As a girl glides unconsciously into -womanhood, the mysteries that surround her are like the intangible, yet -real, mists of daybreak that may clear away before the purifying rays of -the sun, or solidify into angry storm clouds to blot out the entire day. - -In addition to these, over Poppea there hung what to her was a darker -cloud,--the mystery of the name; and the only rays that could penetrate -its shadow must come from the sun of love. - -Presently Poppea closed the book, and after resting with her arms -clasped about it for a moment, laid it on the table. Going to the window -where Gilbert was sitting, she stood behind him, stroking his hair -gently and smoothing back one troublesome lock that kept falling over -his eyes. Then stooping and laying her cheek upon his, she whispered:-- - -"Daddy, please say that I need not go away anywhere to school. I can -learn a great deal more at the Academy if I try, and besides the Felton -Aunties and Mr. Oldys lend me so many books, and they are going to have -a French teacher next summer, and Miss Emmy has asked me to read with -them. I want to work hard at my music, so that by and by I can play an -organ perhaps, or sing in a Bridgeton choir. And I must help you in the -post-office. You've said so often lately that people are more careless -of their spelling than they used to be, and do not write the addresses -well, that I'm quite sure your eyes are getting tired. Please, Daddy? It -will make things so much easier." - -Gilbert paused a moment in order to control his eagerness to assent. - -"I never wanted you to go away, child, but for your own good, and -now--it doesn't seem to me that I could bear it. Miss Emmy thinks, -though, that you'd be better of a little change, and she's spoken with -me about your going down to them next month to spend a fortnight or so, -to see the city, hear some good singing, the Opery she calls it, and -things like that. Wouldn't you like it, Poppy? Yes, I thought so. Well, -you go try your wings outside of Harley's Mills a bit, dearie. Mayhap -you'll think you've never tasted life before, but if you get homesick -for Daddy and the post-office, and feel peeky for a sight o' the river -again and a sniff of the salt harbor wind that blows over Quality Hill, -they'll be here, and all you've got to do is just to come right back." - - * * * * * - -A month later, Poppea was standing between the heavy crimson curtains of -one of the Feltons' parlor windows on Madison Avenue, overlooking the -Square. The sound of the traffic from the opposite side where Fifth -Avenue and Broadway meet and cross was deadened to a sullen roar by the -heavy double windows except when the stages passed, and then for a -moment the distinct sound of hoof and wheel was distinguishable. - -Over in the park many children were playing, rolling hoops to and fro, -or wheeling about on roller-skates, having a row of small wheels set -lengthwise under the foot that made the sport as much a matter of -equipoise as ice skating. - -Poppea longed to join them, to rush along and feel the air around her -and facing the wind, meet it halfway. For an airing she went to drive -every day with the Felton ladies in the new landau which was lined with -tufted blue satin, with little mirrors let into the side panels. -Sometimes they drove up Fifth Avenue to Central Park, through the east -drive to the turn and back again, at a decorous and leisurely pace, -Poppea and Mr. Esterbrook sitting opposite the ladies, who were -continually bowing and smiling to those in other carriages that they -passed. Even as late as 1874 to 1876, all those who kept private -equipages were well known to one another, and if a stranger appeared in -Mrs. ---- barouche, the identity was soon revealed by the sending out of -cards for a more or less stately reception to meet the guest. The -informal and irresponsible afternoon teas of the last two decades of the -century, their chief motive, as voiced by the Autocrat, being to -"gabble, gobble, and git," were as yet unconceived. Sometimes a party of -young folks on horseback, followed by an instructor, would come in -sight, winding among the trees that separate drive from bridlepath, and -pass before Poppea, all eagerness, could really see them, for except on -very mild days the carriage windows were closed in spite of Miss Emmy's -protestation that she never really breathed except in the open air. The -windows of Madam Felton's coach had always been closed against the east -winds of Boston fifty years before, and Miss Elizabeth felt that to do -otherwise would be too much of an exhibition of change. If Miss Emmy -chose to sleep with her bedroom window open, that was a different -matter; eccentric, of course, but inconspicuous. - -One day Mr. Esterbrook had suggested that they two should leave the -carriage, walk back to the entrance gate and take a stage or a horse-car -home. How Poppea had enjoyed it. There had been enough wind to ripple -the water of the reservoir, and the gulls were flying over it, preparing -to bed down for the night as they did on Moosatuck. Another time, the -ladies always being interested in everything concerning the good of the -city, had driven across the park and out the west side of it to see -where the building of the Museum of Natural History was to be located, -the laying of the corner-stone by President Grant having been set for -the following June. Continuing on over poorly paved streets or muddy -roadways that ran between partly decayed country houses, or the shanties -of squatter settlements, they came within sight of the Hudson, making -their way northward through Manhattanville and Bloomingdale to a hill -called Claremont, where there was a place of refreshment in an old -farm-house. - -The sight of the glorious river sweeping down between the high walls of -the palisades, with shadowy suggestion of headlands and mountains, made -the young girl's breath come quick and short. She could not keep her -eyes from the window and she spoke either in monosyllables or kept -silent. Could she, might she go out on the bank and see, not through the -glass, and feel the wind that was bending the old tulip trees with the -rattling seed cups? - -Alas, no; it was a place of public entertainment where one, especially a -young lady, must be very careful to do nothing unusual. So, though Miss -Emmy looked as though she would not only have encouraged Poppea in her -desire but gone with her if it had not been so cruelly windy, they -turned their backs on the wonderful panorama, while Patrick sought an -easier, if less picturesque, way home. - -He, in fact, scowled upon the whole trip to such an extent that it was -not repeated. The horses, used to half a dozen miles at most, had -sweated unduly; the rim of one of the newly painted wheels had sunk -between two cobbles and become badly scratched, while Patrick himself -had been jolted to such an extent that he had been obliged, in order to -keep his seat, to adapt himself to circumstances and do something more -than sit on the box and hold the reins, a new condition which raised his -ire. It may be said with truth that the tyrannical family coachman of -the old régime in New York was the logical and fitting ancestor of the -arbitrary chauffeur of to-day. The first, however, having only the "lame -horse" plea as his weapon; the other, any one of an endless series of -complicated intestinal diseases concealed in the corpulent tonneau. - -Thus, after the first week, Poppea's exercise was limited to the correct -walk for girls of her age, up or down Fifth Avenue to Washington Square, -or with Nora for attendant, dressed in the neat garb of a city maid, -down Twenty-third Street and eastward to Gramercy Park, a key to which -exclusive enclosure had been given to the Misses Felton by one of their -many friends in the surrounding houses. She often looked longingly at -the girls of her own age who walked in groups of twos and threes, -chatting vivaciously, the maid following far enough away to be out of -sight if not out of mind. At home she had never felt lonely. Now, for -the first time, she realized that she had no real girl companions of -her own age. - -This particular afternoon when she stood between the curtains, a hand on -each, looking alternately out into the square and then down the length -of the three great rooms, divided by marble columns, their size further -magnified by the vistas seen in the pier and mantel mirrors, she felt -like some wild thing at bay. The ladies had gone in the carriage to -Staten Island to visit a distant relative who was ill, taking Nora with -them. Mr. Esterbrook had lunched as usual at his club, the Union League, -only a few blocks further up the avenue, it having been his considerate -custom to leave the house to the ladies and their friends at mid-day -ever since luncheon had taken the place of early dinner. - -Poppea tried to open first a front and then a back window to get a -breath of air, but without success. She was too wise now to refresh -herself by sitting on the outer doorstep, since the doing of it, during -the first week, had brought a very decided remonstrance from the usually -sympathetic Miss Emmy. - -For a minute she was minded to get her hat and join the children in the -square; then some street musicians with harp and violins struck up -before the next house, riveting her attention. The playing was spirited -and the time good, though imperfect as to technique. The pent-up energy -in Poppea began to surge and sway her body to the music. Stepping from -the recessed window before the long mirror, where there was a space -clear of furniture, she began to dance, not with set steps or -calculated gestures, merely letting the music lead her. - -When she finally stopped, head forward, a sort of half-mocking courtesy -to the looking-glass, laughing,--her good temper restored,--she was -startled to see a reflection besides her own, that of a young man of -perhaps eight and twenty, of medium height, clean shaven at a time when -this was uncommon, immaculate as to clothes, having an air of being -perfectly at ease in unusual surroundings that Poppea noticed even in -her confusion. - -Caleb had ushered him through the sliding door unthinkingly, for the -colored servitor was standing transfixed, one hand raised in warning, -saying in the brief time that it took Poppea to prepare for flight:-- - -"Sho, I didn't know you was here, Miss Poppy; I 'lowed Marsa Esterbrook -was corned in." - -Then in a confidential whisper to the caller as the girl slipped past -him and flew rather than ran up the thickly padded stairs, he added:-- - -"It's jest Miss Poppy, a young missy from de country that Miss Emmy -thinks a mighty heap of. She was lonesome-like I reckon, and just -a-dancin' to keep up her spirits. Do set down, Marsa Winslow; the ladies -should shuah be back by now and they'll feel powerful bad to have missed -you. I well recomember your lady mother back in the old Boston time; she -and Miss Emmy was like two twins for standing up for each other. - -"Oh, so you'se livin' in New York an' can drop in any time. I'll deliber -your message wif honah, sah, to the ladies' pleasure," and Caleb bowed -the young man out, laying the silver salver with the bit of pasteboard -in a spot upon the hall table where it could not fail to attract -attention. The card read, Bradish Winslow, The Loiterers' Club. - -"I should like to meet that girl four or five years hence; she's a -wonderful bit of live color already," was Winslow's mental comment as he -went down the steps, hesitating at the foot whether he should go up or -down the avenue, or across the square. - -Poppea, having gained her room, where the windows consisted of a single -sash, threw one of them wide open, and kneeling on the floor so that her -chin rested on the sill, drew in a long, refreshing breath. - -For a moment she wondered who the caller might be, and thought of her -dancing with regret, but on the return of the Misses Felton they had -such a delightful bit of news to impart that she forgot even to ask his -name. The following week the opera of Lohengrin was to be sung, -Christine Nilsson taking the part of Elsa for the last time in New York. - -No such voice, Miss Felton declared, had been heard in America, except -possibly that of Nilsson's countrywoman, Jenny Lind. To hear her would -be a musical education in itself for Poppea; so not only had a box been -secured for the night, but Stephen Latimer and his wife were coming to -complete the party, in spite of the fact that there were some who -thought the witnessing of all dramatic performances unclerical. That -evening Miss Emmy played some fragments of the opera on the grand piano, -promising Poppea that Stephen Latimer should explain its construction -and motive to her when he came. - -For a few days Poppea forgot her desire to run away in thinking of the -opera, and trying to pick out bits from the score, but its complication -baffled her and she had to content herself with persuading Nora to -continue their walk from Gramercy Park down Irving Place to Fourteenth -Street that she might look at the outside of the Academy of Music that -was her Mecca. - -When the strain began again and she was once more longing for freedom -and a five-mile walk up the bank of the Moosatuck, alone or with Hugh, -the magic day came and with it the Latimers, Mrs. Stephen dimpling under -a bewitching spring bonnet entirely of her own manufacture, a cherished -possession. This, Miss Emmy told her playfully but firmly, she could -_not_ wear to the opera, but that Bachmann should dress her hair when -she came to do theirs. - -"No matter what Stephen may say to-night, I'm going to dress you to suit -myself," said Miss Emmy. "This pink brocade with the silver trimmings, -your hair loosened into a crown of puffs with the pink feather at the -side, and the coral comb. The coral necklace and the white lace shawl -for shoulder drapery, if you think low neck a trifle too much for a -clergyman's lady, and these white gloves topped with coral bands." - -"I will wear the white gloves gladly," said Jeanne Latimer, looking at -her two forefingers rather ruefully. One was roughened by the use of the -vegetable knife, for the times had been hard and houseworkers scarce at -Harley's Mills that winter; while the other was pricked deep from the -sewing of harsh muslin for the clothing that some would otherwise have -lacked. "But really, Miss Emmy, don't you think it would look more -honest if I wore my own gown?" - -Miss Emmy laughingly acknowledged that perhaps it might, yet held her -point with determination, and eight o'clock saw the party of six -gathered in the opera-box, their faces differing almost as much in -expression as the details of their clothing. - -Jeanne Latimer and Miss Emmy were what might be called very much dressed -without having overstepped the bounds of good taste. Miss Emmy wore pale -blue satin with much fine lace and pearl ornaments; though pale in the -morning, her color always grew somewhat hectic at night and helped -justify a combination by far too young for her years. - -While Jeanne Latimer enjoyed the novel sensation of wearing her gay -attire, Miss Emmy's pleasure came from the conscious result of wearing -hers. Miss Felton, who sat behind her sister, wore an almost straight -robe of black velvet; the point lace fichu crossed in front and fastened -by a heavy diamond brooch, her only ornament, covered all but her slim -white throat. Her hair was parted in bandeaux and coiled at the back of -her head as usual, the only addition being two waxy white camelias -tucked into the mass. During the last two years, however, a decided -thread of silver had woven itself among the dark coils. Talking in short -sentences to, rather than with, Mr. Esterbrook, who sat next her, she -had an anxious air and seemed to be striving to keep him awake, for -scarcely had they been seated when an air of intense weariness came over -his elaborately dressed person, and he began to nod. - -The remaining two of the party thus had the right-hand corner of the box -to themselves, Poppea, in her simple white summer muslin relieved by a -cherry sash, sitting in a low chair, with Stephen Latimer back of her. -From the moment of their entrance, he had busied himself in explaining -the great building to her, from the arrangement of the seats, boxes, and -orchestra, to the uses of the prompter's egg-shaped box. Music and -certain phases of human nature that he felt allied to the Divine were -the food for this man's dreams, and to-night he would have both very -near. - -Presently the orchestra took their places, falling into silence at the -tap of the leader's baton and the prelude to the first act began with -the high notes of the Grail motif, rising to a climax of trumpets and -trombones, then fading away to silence again. With a word here and there -to focus the story of the libretto, Latimer called Poppea's attention to -the new theme, where the Herald calls for a champion for the accused -girl, the Elsa motif is voiced by the wood-wind instruments, and -presently Lohengrin appears in the boat drawn by the swan. - -To Poppea the scene had the mystery of fairyland, but it was, at the -same time, her first glimpse of visible active romance, and through the -scenes that followed came her primal realization of the love of man and -woman as separate from the friendship of girl and boy. - -When Lohengrin sets the one condition for the marriage that Elsa shall -never ask him his name and Latimer explained the _Mystery of the Name_ -motif, Poppea with hands clasped in the folds of her gown sat with -strained eyes and parted lips scarcely breathing. Once heard, this motif -never left her ears, whether it was whispered by the wood-wind -instruments, the horn, or proclaimed by the whole orchestra, as when in -the scene of the bridal chamber the knight calls Elsa passionately by -name, but she, not knowing his, may not speak it, and so at last rebels -and demands to know. - -As Latimer watched Poppea's face, he saw the change that fell upon it. -The joy of music, color, and pageant faded from it, until, finally, when -the boat, now guided by the Dove of the Grail, bears Lohengrin, its -knight, away and Elsa falls fainting, he saw Poppea's lips, from which -the color had fled, frame rather than say:-- - -"She would not marry him because she did not know his name, and when at -last she knew it, he had to go away; suppose, oh, suppose--?" Poppea -turned her head from him, but Latimer, through the music and the -dreaming, read the thought that had taken possession of her. - -The Latimers returned to Harley's Mills the next afternoon, and Stephen, -at his wife's instigation, asked Miss Emmy if Poppea might not accompany -them. "It's very hard for her, Stephen," she said; "she isn't in a -natural frame of mind now at best, and all the new things she sees and -feels exaggerate it. I know how it is; last night, at first I loved my -fine feathers and then they pricked like pins, and I thought, 'Oh! -suppose I should have to wear them always and play a part and turn into -some one else and never go back to tell you what day of the week it is, -Stevie, or play the organ and peel potatoes and make nighties for stiff -old Mrs. Ricker, who scolds because it is so much trouble to wear and -wash them!' It simply paralyzes me. - -"I _know_ that Poppy feels, 'Suppose I should turn out to be somebody -else, who was born to live indoors and be shut in by these double -windows and never get back to Daddy and the post-office, and never any -more hunt for lady's-slippers and arbutus in the Moosatuck woods with -Hugh.' - -"I never could understand why people's friends always try to get them -away from home if there's anything they want them to forget. At home I -can always keep a worry in one place and needn't go out of my way to -look at it, but when one is away, it may turn up unexpectedly at any -corner." - -Miss Emmy, however, had replied: "Send Poppea home with you when she's -only been here two weeks? Not a bit of it. The house hasn't been so gay -in my memory, besides, I'm having Nora and the seamstress turn her out -such a lot of pretty clothes. I'm sure, too, I'm giving her as nice a -time as any girl could ask." - -A few days later the roving mood returned, and would not be restrained. -When the ladies had gone to a morning charitable meeting, leaving Poppea -practising some little ballads she had found in one of their many music -books, she slipped on her going-out things and, closing the front door, -made her way quickly across the square to where the omnibus passed that -Mr. Esterbrook had taken the day they two had left the carriage in -Central Park. Once in the park, she felt sure she could find her way to -that high bank overlooking the river, where she could feel the wind from -the hills on her face and look at the water that was always coming, -always passing, and yet never left one behind. - -She had a small netted purse of dimes and nickels that Satira Pegrim had -given her on parting, with the admonition, "'Tain't but what they'll -feed and lodge you, Poppy, and more too; 'tisn't that, but mebbe you'd -fancy an apple or a bit of spruce gum, and not be able to lay hand on it -without buying, or need a penny for an organ monkey, for they do say -that all the organs that goes through here in summer heads for New York -in winter, and consequently monkeys must be plenty. There's 'busses in -New York, too, they say, and most like you'd like to make a change from -carriage riding." - -Thus equipped, Poppea paid her fare and stole into a corner, where she -remained until the omnibus reached the end of its route. Her walk up -through the park to the northern outlet was easy, but after that, the -other mile was broken and irregular; for though there were old country -houses here and there, interspersed with newer buildings, the ground was -hilly, many shanties perched upon the rocks and huddled together in the -open fields. - -Once she asked her way of a pleasant-faced woman at the gate of a large, -brown building which proved to be an orphan asylum, and her informant -told her that the location was called Bloomingdale, that another large -building set in ample grounds that they could see to the northward was -the asylum, and that if in going back she would walk down the -Bloomingdale Road (Broadway) a piece, she would find a stage that would -take her back through Manhattanville and Harlem into the heart of the -city. Also she cautioned Poppea not to loiter, for the water side was a -lonesome spot for girls. - -At last the river was in sight. Getting her bearings, she crossed a lot -where a friendly cow followed her, trying to lick the rough woollen of -her coat, and crawling between some rails, reached the bank that she had -remembered, sitting to rest upon a low stump, where had been laid low -one of a group of giant tulip trees. - -The grandeur of it almost oppressed Poppea for a moment, then it seemed -to compact itself and close up until the river became the Moosatuck -winding its way from the hill country down to the Mills, and then onward -through the marshes to the bay. There were not many boats upon it, but -one was hers, built by 'Lisha Potts, and one was Hugh Oldys's, and they -two were deciding which boat they should use, and whether both should -row or only Hugh, for often they rowed together. Then the second boat -disappeared, and Poppea rowed her boat, and in the stern sat Daddy -fishing--Daddy, who seldom took a holiday. How young he looked when he -caught that fine big bass; what jolly stories he told, and how good -Satira Pegrim's basket lunch had tasted. This vision was vivid, and -reminded Poppea that she was hungry. - -Close in some bushes beside her a song-sparrow warbled his clear spring -ditty, and the lump that had been gathering in her throat tightened and -would not be swallowed. Scrambling to her feet she took one final look -up and down before turning homeward, and, as she did so, her eyes fell -upon a small marble shaft surmounted by an urn that stood not a dozen -feet from where she had been sitting. - -There were several like it in the hill graveyard at home, but this could -not be a graveyard with only a single stone. Going near she looked for a -name or date, but found only these words, _Erected to an Amiable Child_. - -Who was it? Was this another mystery of a name. Had the child none? - -Waving her hand good-by to the great river, she retraced her steps -toward the Bloomingdale Road, and at that moment she heard in her ear, -with bell-like clearness, the voice of Gilbert, calling to her as he -often did when she stayed out late in the bank garden below the orchard: -"Come home, Poppy, it's lonesome for you out there by yourself; besides, -Daddy needs you!" Yes, Daddy needed her; that must be the answer to -everything that troubled her. - -The next day it was Poppea who asked if she might go home, and Miss Emmy -said yes. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -PHILIP - - -When Poppea was nineteen, she became the assistant postmaster at -Harley's Mills, with all the legal formality that the name implied, Mr. -Oldys having "gone on her bond" as the local saying ran. Not that -Gilbert's mental faculties were in any way impaired, but at seventy he -was naturally less alert physically, and the long hours told on him. At -least Poppea said so, and urged him to spend more time in the garden -during pleasant weather in company with his pipe and one of his -well-worn books. These, however, had palled upon him, or, as he once -told Stephen Latimer, "It seems as if since Poppy grew up and into -things, Mr. Plutarch is rather far back, and I don't any more care if -Alcibiades returned or not, or much about the siege of Troy, though -that's livelier. I want something with more up-to-date flesh and blood -in it that'll help me to understand things that come up." - -Latimer had suggested Shakespeare as a remedy, at the same time offering -to lend Gilbert an edition that had clear print, and yet could be kept -in the pocket. So from the day that Latimer brought the books, Gilbert -had been under a new spell, while at the same period Miss Emmy had given -Poppea the Waverley Novels, which still further changed his emotional -horizon, and made him the more willing to leave the office in the warm -June days and go to the bench under the widest spreading tree in the old -orchard, with clover all about and the brilliant hues and perfumes of -what Poppea called her parapet garden showing between the trees. - -Satira Pegrim and 'Lisha Potts had finally joined names and farms, -though the bustling woman had left her post of vantage at the village -with many regrets. When Mrs. Shandy, Philip Angus's erstwhile nurse, had -been obliged to leave him at fifteen altogether in the hands of a tutor, -she had gladly, for the sake of being near the boy whom she almost -worshipped, slipped into Satira's shoes as general caretaker at the -post-office house, for Poppea's earnings, with her voice and as -Gilbert's assistant, made such a helper possible. - -No one in the village ever thought it strange that Poppea should fill a -position hitherto occupied by a man. Once Harley's Mills, in the person -of its elderly females, would have raised its hands in horror at the -thought of a young girl engaging in public business; but the Civil War -had changed all that by becoming the origin of the general necessity in -North and South alike for the woman's stepping into the man's empty -shoes, so that the labor horizon for all time widened for all women. - -From John Angus had come the only objection to the innovation. He said -openly on several occasions that the charge of the United States mail -should not be left in hands that were only fit to tie ribbons or tell a -fortune with cards. This superficial criticism was attributed to his -old grudge against Gilbert and his evident disgust at not having the -chance to dislodge him that a change of postmasters might have rendered -easier. As he took no steps toward doing anything in the matter by the -usual method of presenting a petition, it was supposed that he had -forgotten it, especially as immediately after, Angus went to Europe to -be gone six months, on business, his lawyer announced, the truth being -that the inscrutable man, jarred and rent by many disappointments and -his own unyielding temperament, had received several warnings that he -held life by a rather uncertain thread. Too secretive to confess that he -was not well by calling in local physicians, he had gone abroad to seek -advice under the plea of business. - -The last disappointment that he had forced himself to bear with an -immovable exterior was concerning Philip. Never from the day that he -knew that his only child had the inexorable disease covered by so short -a name, had he allowed any one to sympathize with him upon the subject, -nor had he admitted by any word or sign that the boy was suffering from -any physical limitation. Philip's life was arranged upon the same plan -as that of normal children, and nothing by way of affectionate regard or -added companionship was allowed to fill the place of all that he must -refrain from doing. - -Thus the greatest craving that the child had was for the warmth and -protection of affection; he saw the fathers of other boys whom he -sometimes visited put their arms about the lads' shoulders, draw them to -their knees, or make room for them in the great easy-chair, where -confidences about the work and play of the day were exchanged. Not so -with Philip; the little real love that made him hunger for more had come -from the servants and Mrs. Shandy, when they felt that they were out of -eye- and ear-shot of the master. - -Even this was stopped when Philip was fifteen by Mrs. Shandy's dismissal -because John Angus deemed that she was retarding his son's development -and keeping him childish. Henceforward a tutor and various teachers of -languages were the boy's associates, for Philip must needs go to college -and become, if not a lawyer, a man of affairs and politics like his -father. - -Now Philip loved learning, but on its æsthetic rather than positive -side; beauty of form, color, sound, all appealed to him intensely, and -the thought of the beauty shone from his great gray eyes and beautified -every feature of his exquisitely modelled face, as though in this Nature -had outdone herself. - -From the time he was a mere baby he had watched every butterfly and bird -and tried to copy them in what Mrs. Shandy called his mud pies; which -taste, as he grew, developed itself into a wonderful ability to -comprehend both the anatomy of things and their spiritual expression. -From time to time, during his winter city life, he had bought small -copies of the great statues, for at least he was never at a lack for -spending money, and gazed and gazed at them until he knew every curve -and line by heart. In short, as boy and youth, Philip's one desire was -to be a sculptor; but though John Angus never interfered with his -modelling as a recreation, to his appeals to be allowed to enter a -studio and study seriously he never made the slightest reply, and the -preparations for college were forced on. - -One day Philip's brain strength had flagged, suddenly, and, as his -father thought, unaccountably. Once again physicians gathered, and this -time the word came to John Angus, "If you wish your boy to live, his -life must be of the open, and his work, if any, something that he craves -and loves." - -Then again did John Angus shut himself up for a day and night, to emerge -as before and accept the inevitable with a denial of any need of -sympathy. In a week he announced that Philip was to study modelling, -therefore an outdoor studio was to be built in the garden, and he was to -be under the guidance of Clay Howell, a famous sculptor, who not only -had studios in Rome and New York, but also a summer home at Westboro. -The latest tutor was retained as a companion, and Angus, more ill than -he would confess even to himself, set sail at Christmas nominally for a -six months' absence. - -Philip had as a child a beautiful soprano voice which, by the time he -was seventeen, had developed a tenor quality without losing any of its -impersonal boyish sweetness. Stephen Latimer had taken great pains in -its training, and in his friendship the boy had found the one soul who -seemed to understand without spoken words. It was through this -companionship that he found that other that seemed to him in his dark -hours of self abasement and disappointment, the one light that kept hope -alive,--this was Poppea. - -As a child he had longed to play with her, and used to watch her by the -hour through the port-holes of the parapet, while she was working in the -garden that extended from the treasure-trove bank little by little until -it finally reached the apple trees. That they might not be playmates -Mrs. Shandy made plain to him, though never the reason why. Later on -they had met at children's parties at the Feltons' and at the choir -practice at St. Luke's, and Poppea had always so sweet and gentle a way -with him, that when he used to dream of angels or try to think what his -mother must have looked like, Poppea's face was always blended in his -visions, for he never _felt_ the stately portrait by Huntington in the -library to be his mother. - -When at last it was decided that he was not to go to college and life -held out an olive branch to Philip, Poppea seemed to be the dove that -brought it; Poppea, for whom Stephen Latimer asked Philip to play -accompaniments when she went of an afternoon to the Rectory for a -singing lesson "between mails," and Jeanne Latimer could not be of the -party. - -To Latimer, Philip seemed a mere child; it never occurred to him that he -might be reckoned with emotionally and sentimentally as a man, and it -rejoiced his gentle heart to see the boy so happy. - -Any boy is spiritualized and made better by the sympathetic -companionship of an older woman if she be of the right mettle, and -Latimer believed that this companionship would give Philip the very -thing, the conception of the essence of woman's sympathy, that he had -lacked all his sad life and that must be realized if he was to grapple -successfully with his art. Consequently, he was quite unprepared and -almost angry, when after coming into the room one day while they were -practising, Jeanne had said:-- - -"Have a care, Stephen dear, that you do not develop a tragedy in, as you -say, cultivating Philip's artistic perceptions. Will it be well, think -you, that he falls entirely in love with Poppea?" - -Even then Latimer would not understand. "There are many kinds of love -that are far removed from tragedy," he answered. - -"Yes, but to a sensitive dreamer for a woman like Poppea there is but -one love," she had replied almost vehemently. - -"You are mistaken, Jeanne, in this. I am with them, and I stand between -their thoughts as they pass, and my soul reads them. The safety lies in -that Poppea is what she is." - -"Time will prove," said Jeanne, half sadly. By the very insistence of -certain word combinations this commonplace saying of his wife refused to -leave Latimer's memory, and even though it failed in any way to impress -him, it left an irritation like the prick of an invisible thorn. - -Meanwhile, Poppea and Philip drew nearer together each day. - -Howell was finishing a large and important piece of work at his Westboro -studio, and for this reason remained there during the summer, and there -it was that Philip went every day. The master, to test his creative -quality, told him to set about the bit of work he felt he would most -like to do, and that he would help him with the technique. Philip's -response had been to bring a rough crayon sketch that he had made of -Poppea's head and shoulders the last summer when he, looking over the -parapet, had seen her pick up a little bird that had fallen from the -nest and, after holding it in her hand a moment to still its -flutterings, put it back with its brothers. Under the drawing was -written _Amor Consolatrix_. - -"Who is it?" the sculptor had asked abruptly. "She will make a good -model. I will send for her to come up here if she lives in the -neighborhood, as I suppose she does." - -"Oh! I couldn't ask her; she isn't a model, but I can remember her face -as well as if she were here. Is it not perfect?" - -"Head is well set on; forehead, eyes, and chin good; nose a bit too much -tipped up for classic proportions." Then, as he saw Philip's face flush -and quiver, he added "After all, noses are a matter of taste nowadays -when we are getting a long way on the road from Greek placidity, that in -the female face expressed little but form, toward the expression of -temperament. She'll do, my lad, she'll do; if for no other reason than -that you think so. - -"Who is she, that is neither a model nor askable?" he inquired a half -hour later, as he looked over from his work to where Philip was -wrestling mentally and physically with the lump of clay of the size for -a bust that the attendant had set upon its block. - -"Poppea Gilbert; she lives at the post-office in our town, and there is -nobody quite like her," Philip answered, his shyness suddenly rent by -the man's offhand air of comradeship, as well as in response to his own -need of some one to whom he might speak without restraint. - -Howell seldom took pupils, and the price that John Angus had offered him -for his services would not alone have tempted him, but the boy had -interested him from the first. Now, as he stood there watching the eager -face, the light in his eyes, the energy with which he was attacking a -well-nigh impossible task, he sighed and said to himself: "So long as he -believes there is no one like _her_, whoever she may be, so long will he -be able to work. Her strength will make up for his lack--but if his -belief ends--" Here Howell had made an unconscious downward gesture that -in its expression of complete destruction knocked the index finger from -the outstretched hand of the figure upon which he was impressing the -final details. - -For Poppea the last year had been rather lonely, so that the post-office -work was welcomed as a distraction as much as a necessity. A break had -come in the one companionship of her life, for after graduation from -college and the law school, Hugh Oldys, to carry out the carefully laid -plans of his father, was spending a year in foreign travel before -settling in New York, where a niche was waiting for the young man of -whose ability and qualities of determination no one who had come in -contact with him during his college life had any doubt. - -During all this period Hugh had come home at the week ends, so that -there had been no absolute break; but when he had finally gone, Poppea -felt herself surrounded by a sort of open space wherein the air blew -chilly and nothing offered a satisfactory shelter. She did not fully -connect cause with effect in all its subtlety, but confessed to herself -a loneliness that came simply from the cutting off of her glimpse of the -outside world that Hugh had given her. His letters came at regular -intervals, but they were largely of things, not people, and least of all -himself, so that it was only when she went to see his mother and heard -her homely talk that she felt any of the vitality that belonged to the -real Hugh. - -As for Mrs. Oldys, her eagerness to have Poppea with her was almost -pathetic. Locked in her heart, where no one suspected its existence, was -the simple mother-vision that so few cherish in its unselfish -perfection: in this lay the future of her boy, spent away from her if it -was best, and her place supplied by a younger woman to whom the -knowledge she had held of his innermost thoughts must be transferred. -But in this plan of hers for these many years it had been Poppea who was -to be that other woman. Poppea, whom she had watched and brooded over -almost as though she had been her own, and to whom now she revealed day -by day the devotion with which she had surrounded this only child -without in any way letting it hamper his freedom or his manhood. - -No word or hint was ever dropped by her, and yet her belief in the -outcome was as firmly fixed as if it had been a vital point of -religion. Would her faith be shattered? Who could tell or count the -pulse beats of a man and a maid, that, being good friends, have -temperament and the world before them? Hugh was now trying one with the -other. Might it not happen, far away as it seemed, that the change might -also lie before Poppea? - -It was now May; in August Hugh would return. As for the other traveller -from Harley's Mills, John Angus, he was due at almost any moment, and -the chill that was settling over his household at the prospect was a -tribute to the awe in which he was held that, had he been asked, he -doubtless would have preferred to any demonstration of affection. - -Philip alone seemed to look forward with pleasure to seeing his father. -He was in love with his work; Howell, seeing genius even in his crude -efforts, had not only written John Angus, but had told the boy himself -all that he dared, knowing that his temperament lay too much on the side -of self-abasement to take undue harm from praise. Moreover, Philip had, -with his master's help in technique, the expression being all his own, -finished the bust of Poppea and had placed it at the window of his -garden studio, where the beauty of its modelling was brought out by a -background of living green. Surely John Angus must be pleased; must see -at last that his son had not so much found his calling as that it had -found him. - -All about the studio were a score of other attempts of Philip's, very -crude, and yet none lacking in a truthful force, and in half of these, -what might be called the Poppea motive was visible. This he did not -realize, nor would he have thought it strange if he had. Why should he -not worship her? - -His feeling had been the motive of all art in all ages. So had many a -dreaming monk of old in a cloistered garden wrought his thought into a -missal's page, his inspiration coming not from his walled-in self, but -from the light upon it, shed, it might be, from the ideal of the real -Virgin behind her image in the dim-lit shrine. - -It chanced that upon the afternoon of John Angus's unheralded return, -Poppea and Philip had been bidden to the church to practise a duet which -they were to sing on Whitsunday at St. Luke's. This time Stephen Latimer -accompanied them on the organ, and the pair standing side by side in the -front choir stall facing the empty church, Poppea leaning forward -slightly that she might see the music Philip held, with a tender, -protective air, made a picture that would have appealed to any painter. - -Going to his home to find it empty, Angus felt a quickening of the -blood, a desire to see his son for his own sake, perhaps for the first -time. Howell's words had pleased him in spite of himself; the crude, -early American idea of material progress was now rapidly making way for -the realm of literature and art. His life abroad had opened his eyes. To -be the father of a famous sculptor had its mitigations, and then too, -narrow though he was, he could not but realize the underlying -compensation that art deals with the spirit of things and makes as -naught any physical defect in its medium. Philip should also travel; he -himself would take him. - -So on the whole, John Angus was in what might almost be called a genial -mood when, on hearing that his son was down at the church with Stephen -Latimer, he ordered the carriage (he had walked up from the station) and -went to seek him. He also looked in much better physical condition than -when he went abroad, and only those who are expert in such matters would -have detected the tension at the corners of the nostrils that came from -the continual apprehension of the heart condition that had been his for -years. - -"They are in the church," Jeanne Latimer said, as he greeted her with -the polished manner for which he was famous on the doorstep of the -Rectory. Then she had fled indoors with the swift sense of foreboding -and desire to reach cover that a bird feels when, on a summer day, the -wind suddenly changes and the murmur rises of a thunder cloud that as -yet but edges the horizon. - -Angus, hearing music, opened the door and stepped into the shelter of -the very pew that had shielded Poppea that winter night more than six -years before. Why he did it he could not have said, but when one is -watchful and suspicious by nature, the habit often becomes the dictator. -Having turned aside, he waited until the song ended, waited in a -condition of mixed rage and pain that amazed him, feelings stirred in -him which he believed buried; he seemed in some distant place; he could -not account for himself to himself. Even then he did not move at once; -the blending of the voices to any other ear had been uplifting. As -Philip stepped from the stall to the lower level of the chancel steps -and Poppea laid her hand lightly on his shoulder to steady him, John -Angus caught the expression of his face, and suspicion, as ever, being -his interpreter, he gnashed his teeth. - -In another minute he was walking up the aisle masked in the perfect -self-control he wore to all outside his household. - -"Philip, I have come for you," he said in clearly modulated tones, not -realizing that a warmer greeting might be expected after five months of -absence. - -"Some other day, Mr. Latimer; I've only within an hour returned and wish -to see my son," without even a hand clasp, was his reply to the rector's -outstretched hand, words of greeting, and invitation to join Mrs. -Latimer in a cup of tea in the Rectory. - -To Poppea he did not speak; looking toward her, he swept her with a -deliberate stare in which dislike and absolute non-recognition were -curiously blended. She at first had been impelled to look away, but -feeling his glance, she turned and met it proudly, head erect, without -either contempt or flinching, and even as she stood thus, John Angus, -gathering up the boy's music and the cloak he always wore, hurried him -from the church, without time for a word of explanation or good-by. - -"Poor Philip," said Poppea, lowering her head, while tears filled the -eyes she turned toward Latimer. - -"Yes, poor Philip," he echoed; "yet not so poor in any way as John -Angus." - - * * * * * - -Once in the carriage, the man's self-control seemed to dominate him once -more. He said nothing about the happenings of the past few minutes, but -turned the talk to Philip's work, even before the boy himself had -recovered from the suddenness of the meeting with its incomprehensible -discordance. The tutor, who had been in Bridgeton, whither he frequently -went during Philip's practice afternoons, had returned, and in an agony -of apprehension was superintending the arrangements of the tea things on -the screened veranda overlooking the garden. He need not have trembled, -for John Angus paid no heed to him after a formal greeting, but relaxed -unusually in his effort to interest Philip and draw him out, and the -boy, warming under his father's rare interest, spoke frankly of his -hopes and fears. - -"Now will you come to the studio and see it for yourself, father? Of -course it's lumpy and out of line in many ways yet, but Howell says that -I can do it over and over until it is right, and then, perhaps, you'd -have it cut in marble, not because it's good, but because it's the first -and I love it so." - -Hand in hand father and son crossed the garden, the maids and -men-servants peeping from their various windows in amazement until the -pair disappeared within the studio door. - -"There she is, father. Do you think it is like her?" Philip asked -eagerly, pulling the wet cloth from the bust, for every day he saw the -need of an added touch here and there. - -John Angus had seated himself in a high-backed, carved chair and was -gazing at the bust with fierce intensity; whenever he turned his eyes -away, it was to see its lineaments in the crude attempts that filled -every nook in the long room. - -"Like? who is it?" he finally managed to say in well-feigned ignorance. - -"Ah, then it can't be, if you do not know, for you saw her singing with -me at the church half an hour ago. It is Poppea Gilbert from the -post-office house. I suppose it was foolish of me to try to make her as -lovely as she really is, though Howell sees the likeness, and yet you -did not know." - -"Lovely! Know!" John Angus half shouted, jumping to his feet and going -toward Philip with an almost threatening gesture. "Do _you_ know who -this woman is, this adventuress? She was a waif left on Oliver Gilbert's -doorstep; he took her in and bred her up, what for no one knows, unless -to harry me; he who with his paltry four acres of ground and his -damnable Yankee independence has been the only man who has dared to balk -me with success. But now his time has come." - -"I only wish she had been left on _our_ doorstep; how different -everything might have been," said Philip, who in a moment seemed to have -gained bodily height through the sudden development of spirit. - -"Yes, so do I!" shrieked John Angus, "and, as you say, everything would -have been different, for I should have sent her to the almhouse! - -"What do you know of those she came from? Tell me that. What do you -know?" continued the man, lashed to frenzy. - -"What do I know of you or you of me, either; what we are or may be?" -said Philip, in the accents not only of manhood, but of a champion, the -words coming from lips that once and for all had ceased to tremble. "But -I do know that Poppea is a good woman and that I love her." - -With a word that rang in Philip's ears for many a day and night, John -Angus turned upon him as if to strike him down, even as long ago he had -struck his roseleaf wife the day before she left him. Then as an -invisible something stayed his hand, he rushed across the studio, and -picking up a chair, brought it down full upon the bust, crashing it -outward through the window in many fragments. - -For a moment Philip stood with one arm across his eyes as though to shut -out what to him seemed murder. Then dropping it to his side, he faced -his father, who, his wrath having reached a climax, had sunk back in his -chair, clutching his side, while an awful expression of apprehension -crossed his face. - -"I cannot tell you to leave the room, for it is yours; but I must go," -Philip said slowly and clearly, then crossed the studio and closed the -door quietly behind him. - -For two days no one but the tutor saw John Angus, who remained in his -room, to write important letters, the tutor said. Then word went forth -that the house would be closed for the summer, as father and son were -going yachting for a change of air. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -INCOGNITA - - -Philip and his father went away in early June. There were, of course, -many rumors about their plans, one being to the effect that the house on -Windy Hill might not be reopened for several years, in spite of the fact -that greenhouses and gardens were to be maintained as usual. One thing -alone was certain, that they were to spend the summer either on board -the yacht of a Mr. Challoner, John Angus's close business associate, or -at his house at one of the resorts on the Maine coast. - -Poppea had seen very little of Philip since his father's return, for his -singing lessons had become more and more irregular, until they finally -ceased. Stephen Latimer, when he frankly asked John Angus the reason, -was met by the vague excuse that he had been so long away that he wished -his son's society; there was much to be arranged. Also Philip was tiring -of singing. - -On the day before he was to leave, Poppea met Philip at the Feltons', -whither he had gone to say good-by. When she entered, he was in the -great, cool library, and the blinds being drawn to keep out the -afternoon sun, all the light in the room seemed focussed on his face -where he sat by the book-strewn table, his head resting on one hand. He -was so intensely quiet and so pale Poppea's heart went out to him more -than ever; that he was suffering pain not merely physical she was sure, -and equally so that she must not ask its cause. - -Nora came into the room at that minute to say, "Miss Felton and Mr. -Esterbrook had gone to Bridgeton and would Miss Gilbert come upstairs? -Miss Emmy was suffering from a bad headache, and so Mr. Philip must -excuse her." - -"Then I must tell you good-by and go home," Philip said to Poppea; -"Harvey is waiting for me with the chair, for somehow I'm rather tired -this week. Please come into the light and turn your face as I saw you in -the garden from the parapet the day, long ago, when you picked up the -little bird. There, that is it. I want to remember every line to take -with me, for I shall be so lonely." - -"And I too, Philip. Look up at me and remember, that whatever is -worrying you worries me also, and let me halve it with you," and Poppea, -stooping, lifted his face and kissed him gently on the forehead. - -The young man bent his head as if in reverence for an instant, then -raising it again to look Poppea in the eyes whispered, so far away his -voice sounded, "I shall not be lonely any more, for it seems as though -you must have called my mother's angel and she kissed me." And yet John -Angus could not understand, and would not had he been there. - - * * * * * - -The summer residents of Quality Hill had returned in full force, -increasing the work at the post-office so much that Poppea had but -little time to herself. Yet she was satisfied so long as everything ran -smoothly and no possible criticism could fall upon the postmaster; for -it was not only the income and certain fixed position that mattered so -much to Oliver Gilbert, but in and about the associations of his -appointment were woven the very elements of his patriotism and the -verbal contact with Lincoln that became more precious as time went on. -Of course Gilbert knew that the day would come when he must resign what -he called his trust, but that was not yet. In some respects he felt his -seventy years less than he had the weight of a lonely fifty. That his -conducting of the business might be unsatisfactory or the post-office -might be taken away from him had never troubled his thoughts even -remotely. - -It was therefore a great surprise to both postmaster and mistress, when -one day, about the middle of June, a duly accredited government -inspector appeared one morning, and after going over the accounts and -putting many abrupt and, to those in charge, meaningless questions, took -a seat by the sorting shelf, opened a newspaper, and seemed prepared to -spend the day. The visit being all the more strange from the fact that -the usual but rather perfunctory official visit had been paid less than -two months before. - -When noontime came and the official made no move to leave, Gilbert, -knowing that there was no suitable place of refreshment in town, with -old-time hospitality asked the stranger to join them at their mid-day -meal. The invitation was accepted, and the moment that the official left -his post behind the beehive, his entire manner changed; he talked and -laughed with Gilbert in a way that dismissed a growing apprehension, -complimented Satira Potts, who was substituting for the day, upon her -cooking, and kept his eyes fastened upon Poppea in a way that made her -color hotly and then turn rigid with resentment, saying that he had -heard Harley's Mills was a very quaint town, and that there was a pretty -walk by the river toward the hills. Wouldn't she be his guide that -afternoon? - -Poppea, feeling that she must hold herself in check at any cost, replied -that she could not leave the office, but that Oliver Gilbert would -doubtless drive him about town with horse and chaise; then turning to -the old man, she urged him to go, as he had been out so little of late. - -Poor Gilbert, entirely oblivious of the undercurrent, protested that he -could do all the office work required before night, saying in -good-hearted indiscretion, "Go you out, Poppy; the young gentleman will -enjoy the trip much better than with a half-deaf old codger like me." - -For a moment Poppea struggled for words less abrupt than "I will not -go," with which to extricate herself from the net. Then Satira Potts -(who was Pegrim, and having once taught Poppea what she called her -manners never forgot it), grasping the situation, rose so suddenly from -the table that she scattered the crumbs that she had in her apron, and -said, "Poppy couldn't go with you noway, nohow, Mister--I don't think -you've mentioned your name. Our Newfield County girls don't take up -with strangers, and besides, even if they did, Miss Gilbert, holding -what might be called a public place, has got to draw the line even -shorter!" - -Gilbert, who had raised his hand deprecatingly toward his, as he -considered, too officious sister, stopped short as he caught sight of -Poppea's face, while into the other man's eyes there flashed a glare of -rage which was far less offensive than the expression it replaced. -Getting up slowly with an affected yawn of boredom, he bit the end from -a cigar, lit it without asking leave, nodded curtly to the postmaster -and, picking up his bag of papers and hat, which he put on before -reaching the door, went on his way. - -"Shoo! Scat!" said Satira Potts, who, following him closely, drove away -a stray cat from the porch and scattered the remaining crumbs in her -apron on the flagging for the birds. - -For a minute Gilbert and Poppea sat looking at one another, then he -said: "I wonder why that smart Aleck dropped in here just now and hung -around so? Most likely missed connections in Bridgeton for somewhere -else and thought he'd pass the time and get a dinner. He wasn't mannered -like the regular inspector that's been here for three years past. It's -too bad he riled you so, Poppy; it's likely he thought he was being -polite and pleasuring of you." - -It was well for his feeling of content that Gilbert did not look back, -for when Satira Potts returned to the kitchen, Poppea, who had left the -table for the window and was looking with eyes that did not see up -through the orchard to the back garden, wheeled suddenly, and, throwing -her arms about Satira's neck, began to sob with the broken-hearted -abandon of a child. - -"There, there, dearie, that skate has gone flying, so don't you care. I -sensed right off the way he was squinting at you, and if only you hadn't -been born a lady baby, and so mustn't, I could have wished you'd slapped -his face." - -All that afternoon and for many days, whenever Poppea paused in her work -in the office or in the bank garden, where the flowers seeded from the -garden above ran riot and needed much restraining, the thought, "I -wonder, oh, I wonder, who sent that man here?" came to her. - -One day, as the insistence of the query was beginning to pass, Miss Emmy -sent for Poppea to come up to luncheon and hear the plans for the -afternoon and evening entertainment that the Felton ladies were in the -habit of giving each year, either at rose time or at midsummer. This -year, the season being late and also the roses, the twenty-first of -June, the summer equinox, was chosen; for, as time went on, the ladies -felt less like entertaining and keeping open house in the humid July -weather, though they did not yet acknowledge it even to one another. But -at sixty and sixty-two, why should not even those to whom that form of -tyranny known as duty to society is a law relax, and prepare to spend -the afternoon of life a little more naturally? - -As for Mr. Esterbrook, at threescore and ten, relaxation of any kind -would be impossible. For the last dozen years, having practically ceased -to take manly exercise, he was propped by his rigid surroundings, -courteous formalities of the old school, and clothes to such a degree, -that had he sought to escape from them, collapse would have resulted, -and it would have been as impossible to collect him as water that -suddenly rebelled against the confines of its pail. - -The ladies themselves could hardly have told when the thinning iron-gray -hair had been first subtly concealed, and then replaced by a wig of its -own exact shade; nor did they know that he had abandoned billiards at -the club in favor of whist or piquet, because following the course of -the red or white balls over the vivid green cloth with eyes slow to -focus had twice given him a fit of vertigo. As for riding, Oliver -Gilbert, hip-crippled as he was, could still throw himself across the -old white horse and follow the cow to its hill pasture, while the very -thought of riding made William Esterbrook dizzy; so wide apart is the -life natural from the life artificial. - -The afternoon reception, Poppea found, was to be general, the Bridgeton -band supplying outdoor music; the evening function, an affair in costume -combined of music, dancing, and a half-dozen tableaux of the seasons. To -the latter the residents of the hill and their guests, together with the -Feltons' more intimate neighborhood acquaintances, were bidden. - -Before leaving home, Poppea had resolved to decline Miss Emmy's -invitation to the evening party. Hugh being away and also Jeanne -Latimer, she was not in the mood for going among strangers, as they -would largely be. Then, too, a sense of depression had hung over her of -late, as she realized for the first time that the comparative luxury and -special privileges that her contact with the Feltons had surrounded her, -were not only not hers by right, but that at any time she must become, -at least in part, the financial protector of the man who had for twenty -years protected her. - -Virtually she was living under false pretences when she went to the -Feltons and mingled with their guests. As a child it had been different; -now it must stop, and the sooner the better. She did not find it easy to -carry out her resolutions at once when she found that Miss Emmy took it -for granted that she would sing half a dozen of the songs that Stephen -Latimer said few others could sing so well, either from point of -phrasing or simple pathos. Besides, Miss Emmy argued, New York friends -would be there who might help her to turn her music to account, and as -for the costume, anything dainty and summerish would do. There was a -chest full of old muslins and flowered organdies in the attic from which -Poppea could surely select something, and Nora should help her fashion -it if she herself lacked time. - -Under such circumstances how could Poppea refuse those who had made -music possible, as well as given all her education, even to the final -lessons in French pronunciation that made the Creole songs fall from her -lips in such perfection. So saying to herself, "only this once," she had -gone to the attic chest in question, and selected from it a soft green -muslin with embroidered fern fronds scattered over it, a relic of the -days when skirts were six yards full and further amplified by three -flounces; then declining Nora's help, she took it home to brood over. - -As she went slowly down the stairs, the muslin gathered into a hasty -bundle, Miss Emmy called to her from her morning room where she was -sealing some invitations, the social secretary not, as yet, having -become an institution. As she waited for the notes, Poppea, glancing -idly about the room, caught sight of a colored print of Gainsborough's -Mrs. Robinson as Perdita, in her pretty furbelows. This gave her an idea -that once at home she quickly put into form with scissors, thread, and -needle. - -To the muslin bodice, made a trifle low, frills falling from the half -sleeves, she added an open-fronted over-skirt, which, being caught back -below the waist, gave somewhat the appearance of the print. Then, other -matters calling her, she put the dress away until the day came for the -party. By this time she had forgotten how Perdita had arranged her hair, -and she had also discovered that the even green of the muslin looked -monotonous by lamplight. Ah me, what could she do? Mrs. Shandy, being -appealed to, with true bucolic British taste could suggest nothing but -"red ribbons, and plenty of them, to liven of yourself up, Miss." - -Walking about the room at a loss how to proceed, Poppea picked up the -miniature of her "little mother" as she called her to herself, that -other Poppea with the wreath of fragile summer poppies in her hair. It -had become almost a habit, this looking at the picture in moments of -perplexity either serious or trivial, as though the laughing eyes and -parted lips could in some way respond. In this instance, the reply, -though indirect, was instantaneous. - -"The poppies twisted in the hair and bunched at the neck; could anything -be better!" cried Poppea, "and the garden is full of the fall sown ones, -open and in bud. Frail as they are, if I pick buds this morning and put -them in water in the bright sun, they will be open by afternoon and keep -open if I do not let them see the dark. The leaves are the color of the -muslin, only of a lighter shade. Thank you, little mother!" - -As Poppea dressed that evening, taking the flowers that she had -transferred from sun to lamplight to put in her hair when she arrived, -she again turned to the miniature, talking to it as if it were a person. - -"You've stayed here by yourself too long," she said; "to-night you shall -go out and whisper to the people who will hear me sing and ask them to -be kind." Slipping the chain over her head, she let the locket hang half -veiled among the folds of drapery that crossed her bosom. - -There was no one but Nora in the dressing-room at the Feltons' when -Poppea looked shyly in, and, seizing the chance, dropped music and light -shawl upon a chair to arrange the flowers. They adjusted themselves -easily to her coiled hair. In a half wreath with a great bunch at the -waist, so intangible did they seem in their cloud colors of rose, pink, -salmon, and flame fading back to white, that it was impossible to -believe that they would not flutter away from their perch like -butterflies. - -"Look at that now! there isn't a dress here to-night'll touch yours, -dearie," said Nora, hands raised in honest admiration. "But I mistrust -them posies not to last long, gi'n you dance too hard." - -"That's precisely it, Nora," said Poppea, a mischievous smile banishing -the little pathetic droop that her lips sometimes wore, and the opal -colors flashing from the black-lashed eyes. "I must not dance, but sing -my songs and disappear, else my finery will drop away as Cinderella's -did when the clock struck." - -Downstairs among the maze of faces, she saw that of Stephen Latimer, and -motioning to him that she was there when needed, Poppea glanced -wistfully across the room, slipped through one of the long windows, then -drew into the shadows where she could see and not be seen, except as the -light fell now and then upon her eager face as she leaned forward to -watch the tableaux, dreading the time when she must step before so -fashionable and critical an audience. - -Evidently, she had not been as wholly unobserved as she thought, for -Miss Emmy, who had reached the veranda through another window in company -with a youngish man, came toward her, saying:-- - -"Ah, here she is, Bradish, keeping quiet until her own time comes. Julia -dear" (Miss Emmy often used this name in formal society), "this is Mr. -Winslow, the son of my dearest Boston friend, who wishes to meet you. It -is the first time that we have been able to lure him into the country, -and we wish him to like it. Where is your shawl, child? It is quite -breezy here, and you mustn't risk your voice. Upstairs? No, don't go; I -will tell Nora to fetch it," and as Miss Emmy flitted away, her -shimmering silver costume, with a crescent and gold stars in her fluffy -light hair still guiltless of gray, caught and held the combined lights -of moon and lamp, helping to perfect the part of "Evening" for which she -was costumed. - -For a moment after she had recognized Mr. Winslow's bow, Poppea -continued looking into the room. She wished that Miss Emmy had not -introduced her to this stranger; she did not care to talk, but to remain -quiet and alone. Then making an effort, she turned toward him to put the -orthodox query as to what character he represented, when before the -sentence was half framed, she realized that he wore conventional evening -dress, and her air of embarrassment turned to a smile when she saw the -half quizzical, half satirical expression of his cleanly shaven face. - -"Confess that you not only did not look at me, but that you are rather -vexed at either being obliged to do so now or be rude," he said, placing -a chair with a dexterous turn of the wrist in the exact spot where she -could continue to look at the tableaux and yet be seated. - -"I'm afraid that you are right, and yet I will not allow that I was even -almost rude to one of the Aunties' friends. It is this way; I am to sing -to-night before all these men and women from the city who know what -music means; I have only sung before here in the church for Mr. Latimer -or at some little musicals at Bridgeton. If I had to go into the room -now and be shut in among them all, I should simply run away. So I came -out here to find myself, and when Miss Emmy spoke your name, I was so -far away that I do not think I heard it. Pray forgive me." Something -about the direct simplicity of her excuse touched a new chord in -Winslow's perfectly controlled nature. This was not the simpering, -self-satisfied young woman of the small towns who usually, when taking -part in amateur social functions, keeps well in the limelight. - -He drew up a second chair, saying quietly: "I understand so well that I -will either go away or stay and play watch-dog; which do you prefer? I -see two callow youths in there who are looking toward this window as -their only loophole of escape, but they will not come until I go." - -"Then please stay," said Poppea, with a shimmer of a laugh, soothed into -perfect tranquillity by the self-possession of her companion,--a -condition that caused her much wonder when she afterward analyzed it. - -Much clapping of hands announced the completion of the first group of -pictures, and the stringed quartet struck up a Strauss waltz, to the -compelling measure of which Poppea's fingers, hanging over the back of -the chair, tapped time. - -"Are you fond of dancing?" - -"Yes and no; there are times when it seems as if I must dance, but I do -not believe that I could ever dance to order." - -"I have seen you somewhere before, but very long ago," he said abruptly. - -"Yes, I remember your face. I have been thinking and thinking when and -where. Ah! now I have it!" Poppea exclaimed, flushing deeply, so that -even in the moonlight it rivalled the color of the flowers in her hair. - -"Do you remember once calling upon the Felton ladies in New York one -afternoon and finding a half-wild girl dancing before the parlor -mirror?" - -"By Jove! that's it, and you were the little girl! I can see it all -perfectly. I should judge that it was one of the times that you danced -because you must, was it not?" - -"Oh, yes, the windows were so heavy that they would not open, and the -carpets so thick they held my feet, and I began to feel as though I were -in prison and should never get out, and so I danced to be sure that I -was alive." - -"Do you know what I said to myself as you slid away behind the heavy -stair guards?" - -"Probably that you wondered why the Feltons harbored such a barbarian." - -"No, that I wished that I might meet you again six or seven years hence; -and you see I have my wish." - -Noticing that Poppea seemed once more inclined to withdraw into herself, -Winslow dropped the personal tone that he had been forcing into the -conversation and sought more neutral ground in his next venture. - -"If, as I understand, you have lived about here all your life, you can -give me some help in a little matter of business, that, combined with -pleasure, brought me here. I suppose, of course, that you know every -resident in the town?" - -"Most surely, as well as almost every one who comes to or goes through -it;" Poppea was going to add, "because all news comes to the -post-office," but a sudden influence caused her to suppress the last -sentence. - -"Very good, now I will explain my errand, if you have the patience to -listen, and I have confidence in asking that what I say will go no -further, because the matter concerns others rather than myself." - -Poppea, nodding her head in assent, leaned forward, her lips slightly -parted in an attitude of undivided attention. - -"A cousin of mine, a young New Yorker, who is working his way into -politics _via_ being secretary to the postmaster-general, was intrusted -to look up a matter in this vicinity during a week of vacation. Meeting -me at the club a couple of days ago and finding I was coming here, he -asked me to help him out by doing the investigating and letting him -spend his time in town. - -"It seems that Postmaster Gilbert, here at Harley's Mills, is getting -rather old and doddering, and has for his assistant a young woman, a -foundling or something, that he has brought up. Complaints have been -coming in for the past year of the conduct of the office from a man who -is not only a prominent resident here, but one who has strong political -influence both in New York and Washington." - -Poppea straightened herself, opened her lips to speak, but no sound -came; meanwhile Winslow, intent upon reciting the story word for word as -he had had it from his cousin, paid no heed. - -"Under ordinary circumstances a change would possibly have been made on -the matter of age, but as the complainant is known to be a man of -violent prejudices and the appointment was one of the few now existing -made by Lincoln himself, extra trouble was taken in the matter. -Examinations showed the accounts to be all straight, and there the -affair halted on both sides. - -"A month ago new complaints came from the same source in a different -key; the young woman, called by the fantastic name of Poppea, it seems, -was causing trouble among the youths of the town, and the complainant -did not hesitate to call her a dangerous adventuress. A special sent to -cast his eye over the ground brought back an unsatisfactory and garbled -account. Now my point is, can you from an outside and perhaps kinder -point of view set me straight upon this matter?" - -It seemed to the woman sitting opposite that she had lived a lifetime -while Winslow was speaking; shame and courage, despair and pride, were -all struggling for the mastery, and courage, with the chance for -justification, won. - -"Yes, I know them both, the postmaster and his daughter, as well as John -Angus, the man who has complained." - -"Then his dislike is public property?" - -"Most assuredly; he has harried Oliver Gilbert for years because he -would not sell him his homestead to round out his own land." - -"Very good, a motive proven; that settles one point," said Winslow, -with legal brevity. "Now how about the girl?" - -"That is--not, cannot be told in so few words," said Poppea, nerving -herself with a visible effort. "It is true that she was a foundling left -in a storm upon Oliver Gilbert's porch. He took her in for the sake of -his dead wife and baby Marygold. Then he grew to love her until he quite -forgot she was not his own, and she thought all the world of 'Daddy,' as -she had learned to call him. By and by as he grew older she naturally -helped him in the office until, as the business grew and she became of -age, she was appointed his assistant. - -"She tried, oh, so hard, to work steadily and not forget her place, but -she could not help the fact that John Angus's son, a couple of years -younger and a cripple, who had no one to be kind to him, liked to talk -to her. She couldn't help being glad to find some one to help make up -for the sisters and brothers she had never known, for all the real kin -she had was an ivory miniature of a young woman with a wreath of poppies -in her hair, that hung about her neck on a gold chain the night she came -to Gilbert's. There was one word engraved upon the locket, 'Poppea' and -a date, '1850.' So they two practised singing together with Mr. Latimer -down at St. Luke's, Philip and she, and he made a bust of her, for he is -studying to be a sculptor. But John Angus did not understand, and though -no one but himself knows what he thought, it is bringing evil to Poppea, -for the last man they sent from Washington dared to insult her. Yet all -she asks is to be let work for her Daddy until his quarter century is -out and he resigns; for it would kill him if he thought that any one -could say anything against him or his that could take away the trust -that Lincoln gave him." - -Poppea stopped, her hands twisting at a flower that had fallen to her -lap, and then looked quietly at Winslow as though waiting for his -answer. As for him, he was completely taken out of himself and his -acquired stoicism in regard to all things feminine. The spectacle of the -beautiful young woman pleading the cause with such unconscious dignity -swept him from his feet and made him feel until he tingled. - -"Well?" she queried at last. - -"You have made it as plain as if I had seen the whole business myself, -and I'm no end grateful for the trouble you've taken. This meeting seems -to have been quite providential for the post-office family; all I need -do is to take a look at them to-morrow and leave. Let me think quickly; -there is so much more I wanted to say to you. I see the musical dominie -coming our way, and they are drawing the curtains on the last tableau." - -"Yes, it _was_ providential your coming, but there is one thing more to -be said, and I must say it before you go to the office to-morrow. Look -at this," and bending toward him, she held out the locket on its chain -that had lain concealed in the folds of her waist, pressing the spring -that opened it as she did so. - -Winslow looked and then grew bewildered. - -"Read," she said. "'Poppea, 1850.'" - -"Then you are--Impossible!" - -"Poppea of the post-office, whom you have heard accused, and have tried, -and, I hope, acquitted for her Daddy's sake." But the eyes that she -turned so bravely to meet his reassuring ones were full of tears that -could not be recalled. - -"What a brute I have been," he said, standing with bent head. - -Then Stephen Latimer came to lead her in. - -"You will dance with me or at least speak to me afterward?" Winslow -managed to ask, instinctively expecting refusal after the ordeal she had -gone through. - -"This is one of the nights I could not dance; in fact, I doubt if I ever -shall again." - -Winslow sought out the darkest corner of the porch, where he was yet -within sound of her voice. Lighting a cigar, he gave himself over to an -uninterrupted train of musing, while those within who missed him thought -him merely escaping them after the manner of a man of the world, who, -having been courted for a decade by maids, wives, and widows, prefers -his own society. - -After the final applause, which was unusually long and loud for such an -audience, had ceased, Winslow threaded his way rapidly through the rooms -in search of _Incognita_, as he called her to himself, but she was -nowhere to be found. - -"The excitement of her success was too much for the dear child," said -Miss Emmy, taking his arm and switching him in the direction where he -cared least to go. - -"I've sent Nora home with her in the coupé, for she looked really -overdone. Don't be so disappointed; you can go and inquire for her -to-morrow." - -When Winslow broke away from his hostess at last, he wondered what had -happened to him. He had intended leaving in the morning if he had -completed his inquiry. Well, he would sleep on it; some impressions lose -their color the next day. But in the morning he resolved to telegraph -his cousin and put off going at least until another to-morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -FRIENDSHIP? - - -When the next morning came, Poppea kept her bed for the first time since -the childhood days of whooping-cough and measles. From sunrise waves of -intense heat swept the village and outlying country, intensified rather -than veiled by the low-hanging mists. Yet this alone could not account -for the flushed cheeks and restless sparkle of her eyes, or the -weariness of limb that almost refused to let her move. The fact was that -she had not slept, but each hour of the summer night had brought a new -phantom with which she had struggled. In so far as it was possible, she -had ceased to dwell upon the theme of _The Mystery of the Name_, now it -had returned with new force to haunt her, and with it the persecution of -John Angus. This in itself was hard enough to bear, but it meant also -complete separation from Philip, who had come to be such a part of her -inner life that no one else seemed fully to comprehend that even the -idea of readjustment was impossible. - -The unintentional abruptness of Bradish Winslow in stating the pith of -Angus's complaints against the post-office, by its very shock had -brought her face to face with the fact that she had tried to conceal -even from herself. Oliver Gilbert was swiftly coming to a time when, if -he did not resign, his age and slowness of motion might surely be cast -up against him for some trivial oversight that would, in a younger man, -pass unnoticed. - -For a time the danger of dismissal was probably averted; that is, if -Winslow's attitude of apparent sympathy was sincere. Was he to be -trusted? Standing face to face with him the night before, it had not -occurred to her to doubt him. Away from him, a certain sustaining -magnetism coming from his entire confidence in himself, blended with an -agreeable personality, was lacking, and Poppea wondered if he had read -her aright, or taken her justification as a clever bit of acting. And -why not, if John Angus could so misjudge her! - -Other women of her age and naturally emotional temperament might take -peeps into the promised land of love and romance even before the gate -opened and they were bidden to enter. The knowledge of her own name was -the only key to the gate for her; she had long since resolved this, that -evening at the opera when the Knight of the Grail, to her a real -personality, had disappeared. But since then the doubt had come to her, -suppose that the knowing proved to her also a final barrier instead of -the key? - -Oliver Gilbert was appalled at Poppea's indisposition, which he viewed -in the light of a positive disaster. Leaving his six o'clock cup of -coffee untasted, he went about putting up the early mail with shaking -hands and a lack of precision that might well have called down -criticism, had it been observed. Neither did he draw comfort from Mrs. -Shandy's common-sense assurance that "Miss Poppy is only a bit done up -with the strong heat coming all of a sudden, and having to sing before -such a gathering of the quality for the first time. When she's rested a -bit and had a nice cup of breakfast tea and some toast, she'll be quite -another thing." - -The doctor must be had! Nothing else would satisfy Gilbert. So, about -eleven o'clock, when Miss Emmy drove down in the barouche to tell Poppea -the pleasant gossip about the party, together with the comments upon her -singing, encountering Bradish Winslow in spotless white clothes -sauntering in the same direction, Dr. Morewood's chaise came up the -Westboro road and halted at the gate of the post-office house a little -ahead of them. - -Miss Emmy, on hearing that he had called to see Poppea, followed him -into the house, while Winslow went into the office and, over the buying -of a newspaper, drew Gilbert into conversation. - -Whether it was the tea and toast that had the predicted effect, or the -fact that Poppea had finally acquired the mastery of herself and -remembered that Winslow had promised to look at the post-office and its -master through his own eyes and judgment, at the moment that Miss Emmy -was ushered into the parlor she heard, through the open window, Dr. -Morewood's voice talking to Poppea in the room above. - -"Something is worrying you, child; get away from here for a week and -look at things from a different place," he said. "If it's too lively -for you at Felton Manor, go over to the Mills. Dear little Mrs. Oldys is -nearly down ill through homesickness for Hugh, and the next best thing -to seeing him will be to see some one who knows him to whom she can read -his letters. It'll do you good to go up there, with that view over the -Moosatuck to the hills that every sunrise is like a glimpse of the -promised land, and it will be a perfect godsend to her. Do you know, -sometimes I think that plucky little woman is simply clinging to life by -the love she has for her husband and son. I've been so impressed with -the idea this spring that about a month ago I wrote Hugh asking him if -he couldn't shorten his trip and come home early in August, so as to -give some leeway before he goes to his new work in September. - -"I am going up to the Oldyses' now; may I tell Madam that you're coming, -say this afternoon?" - -Poppea was looking out the window to where the grim outline of the -chimneys and roof of John Angus's house could be seen above the vines -that covered the parapet. Yes, she realized that she must go somewhere -if only for a couple of days, to be out of sight of that dominant house -and all that it implied, until she could pull herself together once -more, so she nodded in assent and followed the doctor downstairs. - -"Not sick, but playing lazy and caught at it," was her reply to Miss -Emmy's outstretched hands, and eyes full of sympathy. - -"You see that putting on fine feathers and spending an evening with the -quality has quite turned my head," she continued, forcing her -sprightliest manner that Miss Emmy might be led from questioning her too -closely. - -"Then your head will have to stay turned, for every one who heard you -sing last night wishes to hear you again," and the loquacious little -lady ran over a long list of names that represented not only many of the -bricks and beams of New York society, but much of the decorative -superstructure as well. - -"You always said that you wanted to step out and really do something -against the time when Daddy would be too old to keep the post-office, -and now here is the chance. You are to come to us in New York and be -properly introduced at our first musical of the winter, and then you -will have all the engagements you can fill at fifty dollars each for the -rest of the season. Two or three a week will be a plenty and leave you -time for lessons with Tostelli or some one equally good. Then, by and -by, when you have acquired manner, and you are well known, you might -consent to sing at a few public concerts, given of course under the -patronage of our best people. But we mustn't whisper of that yet; sister -Elizabeth would not hear of such a thing. You will naturally spend the -winter with us, for the post-office work is very light in the off -season, I've heard you say. - -"I will tell you a secret," and Miss Emmy drew Poppea toward her with a -dramatic air of extreme caution. "I've come to the time at which I used -to think I should adopt a young girl. I can no longer wear pink and pale -blue with impunity! I'm growing sallow! I must, therefore, think out -pretty costumes for some one else--for you. For the first winter, -simple dresses with flower trimmings will be very telling; violet tulle -and wistaria, corn-colored gauze and cowslips," and Miss Emmy's hands, -flexible and nervous, described the lines and folds of flower-wreathed -draperies, as she spoke. - -"What do you think? Don't you like the idea, child? I'm going to carry -you off to the Manor for luncheon, and afterward to call on some of the -hill people before their guests, who came for last night, disperse. -There is nothing like striking while the iron is hot, but especially -with people of the _beau monde_; if you let them cool off, there's the -heating process all to be done over again, whereas this time it was -simply a case of spontaneous combustion with you as the spark." - -In spite of her vivacity and high spirits, Miss Emmy coughed wrackingly -when she stopped, and even a casual observer could see the ominous -falling away at the temples and behind the ears, as well as the -wrinkling of the throat under its bertha of embroidered mull. - -"I like the idea of singing as an employment," said Poppea, when Miss -Emmy paused long enough to let her be heard; "but as to all the -rest--well, that would have to be on a business basis also. From the -moment I begin to earn money, I must pay money. You see, dear Aunty, up -to now it's been all for love and love in return, and now--it must be -different." - -"Don't be obstinate, Poppy, for if you are and put on that determined -look, I shall have to call you Julia, even in private." - -"No, I'm not obstinate, neither can I change; it is simply this, I -cannot allow myself to be an object of charity any longer. Ask Mr. -Latimer. I have talked of it with him, and he understands. Ah, Aunty, -Aunty, I cannot go on standing in false positions. If they like my -singing and it is worthy, I will sing, but I do not want it to come by -social favor only." - -"Think it over, child, and don't try to fly with ideas for wings that -may do very well here at Harley's Mills, but not in New York," Miss Emmy -replied, rather tartly for her. "I don't think that in your present -state of mind you will improve your prospects by calling on those who -heard you last night; they would best keep you in mind as the dreamy -looking girl with downcast eyes and poppies in her hair." Miss Emmy -walked out to the carriage without more ado, while Poppea wondered if it -was going to be her fate to be misunderstood. - -Going to the post-office, she encountered Winslow, who was occupying a -chair inside the beehive and alternately chatting with and scrutinizing -Gilbert over the edge of a _New York Herald_ in which he was ostensibly -studying the stock market. - -By the furtive glance that Gilbert gave her, Poppea knew he had been -talking of her, therefore her color heightened, and no one less keen -than Winslow in taking every detail of a woman's appearance in a casual -glance would have noticed that the shadows under her eyes were not those -of her lashes. She was dressed in a straight white gown akin to that of -a trained nurse in its simplicity, without a single touch of color other -than her hair; yet the effect in the bare surroundings of the shop was -to envelop her with a virginal freshness that appealed to Winslow even -more than the more poetic costume of the previous evening. - -"Having made the acquaintance of Cinderella, who vanished, I've now come -to call upon the Postmistress, hoping that she will not also disappear," -he said, taking her hand with a caressing touch that was personal enough -to be remembered, but not of a quality to be resented. - -"Sit down here, child, and just cast your eye over this money-order to -be sure if it is right, for Stephen Latimer may come for it any time. -Mr. Winslow will excuse you a minute, I reckon," said Gilbert, as Poppea -hesitated a moment in embarrassed silence, not knowing whether she -should ask Winslow to the porch or garden, or merely take the call in -her official capacity. The request decided the matter, and as Gilbert -went over to his work bench to become instantly absorbed, she slipped -into his revolving chair, glanced rapidly over the figures, separated -note from stub, and returned the book to the drawer. When she again -faced Winslow, her hands were clasped rather nervously in her lap. - -"I came over this morning for two reasons," he said, as though in answer -to a question in her eyes. "I was afraid that last night's excitement -was altogether too much of a strain, and I wanted to reassure myself by -a peep at you. Then I wished to tell you in plain, open daylight how -deeply I feel about my unknowing brutality concerning this post-office -business, and to ask you, if you can help it, not to let it tinge or -prejudice your feelings about me, but to judge me only by the outcome. -As it is, no one else need ever know the details except our two -selves." - -The look of intense relief that lighted Poppea's face and raised the -drooping lip corners was perfectly apparent to Winslow, and also told -him that doubt as to this outcome had probably broken her rest. - -"I do not think of it as brutality even though it hurt, and though I -shall not tell Daddy, because he would grieve himself sick, I _must_ -tell Mr. Latimer, because he has always known of everything concerning -me, and helps me understand my troubles by holding them, as he says, in -trust. For the rest, I can only thank you for taking the trouble to -consider a passing stranger." - -"I do not feel that you are a stranger; I did not when I first saw you -dancing before the mirror, or yet again on the porch last night. You are -to me Youth and all the good that belongs with it. We have met twice by -accident, the third time by intent; does not that make us friends?" - -As far as his emotions were concerned, Bradish Winslow at six and thirty -might be said to have his second wind. The things that appealed to him -with any permanence in these days knocked first at the door of his -judgment where his æsthetic taste was doorkeeper. It was by this route -that Poppea stole swiftly along until his heart was reached, and -responded before he even remembered that he had one. Then, too, she was -as refreshing as the first sun-ripened strawberries of June after the -complicated winter confections of the club. - -Winslow found himself leaning toward Poppea, holding her eyes and -speaking with a vibrating eagerness that would have surprised any one of -his half-hundred city intimates, both male and female. Of a -distinguished family, rich in moderation, and with no one to please but -himself, Winslow, though an indispensable social factor, was, as far as -women were concerned, a devoted cynic, always at the beck and call of -some modish woman, usually either married or a widow, but whenever the -chains of his own forging seemed likely to fetter, he had always eluded -them, to seek safety in numbers once more. - -He had no further reason for sitting in the stuffy little post-office -than to see Poppea; he had no other reason for having stayed the second -day at the hill, and yet, with all of his resources, quick wit, and -elastic principles, he could devise no way of prolonging the interview -or bringing Poppea into less conventional relations than her expressions -of gratitude implied. - -His hesitation surprised him, for on a still briefer acquaintance he had -brought a very difficult and much-sought widow to ask him to luncheon, -after which she had taken him to a round of "teas" in her carriage. - -Winslow realized this as they sat there, presently talking of inane and -safe topics, such as the heat, the city people visiting on the hill, and -the tennis match to be held there next day, and it was almost a relief -when Stephen Latimer, coming for his money-order, told Poppea that the -Oldyses' rockaway was stopping at the Rectory and would be down for her -in a quarter of an hour. As Latimer showed no signs of leaving -immediately, there was nothing left for Winslow to do but bow himself -out, more awkwardly than Stephen Latimer, who had known him of old, -would have believed possible. - -Once in the roadway, where he could throw back his shoulders and strike -out, the web that he had sought to spin as a spider, but which had held -him like a captive fly, parted, and he admonished himself in no measured -terms. - -"I wouldn't have thought it of you, Brad, my boy; there you sat as dumb -as a fish, and she, when she got through being politely grateful, looked -absolutely bored. It must be because you feel out of your running in a -real cow-country place like this. Is it possible that you're falling -in--? No, it's nonsense! But you'd give a pile to make her look in your -face with something other than gratitude in her eyes. Well, maybe she'll -go to the city some day, who knows. Meanwhile, we'll not let out of -sight be out of mind." - -This resolution was the foundation of a series of subtly chosen gifts -sent at regular intervals that, coming in the mail, Poppea could not -fail to see. As, however, after the first, from which fell a pressed -poppy, they contained no sign, she could neither acknowledge nor return -them, for their source was a matter of inference only. Neither did she -know that Winslow, summering here, there, and everywhere, from Newport -to the North Cape, had left an order with his agent for the sending of -the remembrances; consequently, in spite of herself, he was kept in -mind, and she was somewhat touched, according to his plan. - - * * * * * - -Poppea was shocked when she reached the Mill House to find how much -Madam Oldys had changed in a few weeks, and she reproached herself for -not having seen her oftener. But the house had seemed so strange and -still without Hugh that she had avoided bringing herself face to face -with its emptiness. - -Yes, as the doctor said, the chord that held her soul in her body was -Madam Oldys's love for husband and son. This Poppea saw as she knelt on -the mat beside the straw lounging chair on the deeply shaded porch and -watched the rapid pulsing at the thin temples as the time drew near for -Mr. Oldys to come home to tea. He was very busy these days in -remodelling the Mills and fitting them for a new manufacturing -enterprise that should not only retrieve the heavy loss of the last -years in the waning of the old business, but give work to the men who -had built their homes and houses about him and the surging outlet of -Moosatuck. - -This night he was unaccountably late, and Poppea had already run the -gamut of plausible excuses before Charlotte came out to inquire, after -the comfortable manner of the old colored servant, if Missy Oldys -wouldn't better have her tea before she went all gone from waiting. But -a negative shake of the head was her answer. - -"I think, my dear, that I will walk down to the gate to-night as usual, -where I can see beyond the turn," she said to Poppea, at the same time -trying to rise without aid and finding it impossible. - -"He is coming!" cried Poppea. "Mr. Oldys has this moment turned into the -road from the little gate in the south meadow. Ah, he has a man with -him, a stranger; some one about the new machinery, probably, which -accounts for his being late. There, he is waving his handkerchief, so -everything is right," and Poppea waved hers in return, thus keeping up -the significant little signal that had passed between this sweet old -couple every summer evening, time out of mind. - -"A stranger," the wifely anxiety instantly merging into the hospitable -interest in a guest. "Then please ask Charlotte to add coffee and one of -what Hugh called 'her hasty hot dishes' to supper; the ham omelet will -be best. He may have come by train and had merely a sandwich at noon." - -Poppea gave the order, and on her return looked again at the pair who -had almost reached the gate. She had never before realized that Mr. -Oldys either stooped or was short of stature; in fact, he was taller -than the average, but his companion, broad-shouldered, dark, and trimly -bearded, towered over him by half a head. At the gate they paused, and -Mr. Oldys, putting his hand on the other's shoulder, leaned -affectionately on it, while the stranger lifted and waved the -wide-brimmed soft felt hat. - -It was Hugh! the forehead line told the tale to Poppea that the beard -had concealed. - -With a swift gesture that warned the pair to come slowly, dreading the -shock to Madam Oldys that might come from the unexpected, Poppea knelt -again by the chair, and putting one hand each side of the face, still -beautiful with all its delicacy, turned it toward her and whispered:-- - -"Close your eyes and think of some one you would like to see coming -across the field, then make a wish, for the fairies are about to-night." - -The lids quivered and closed, then opened, and the eyes that read -Poppea's were full of new life. - -"It is Hugh! it is my boy! All day I have felt him come nearer, closer, -but I thought it was only in spirit. Give me your hand; he must not find -me idling. See, I am stronger already;" and Madam Oldys not only stood -up, but walked toward the steps, barely leaning on the arm that Poppea -stretched out to steady her, to be grasped the next moment by a strong -pair of arms in an embrace that stifled her cry halfway and lifted her -from her feet, while as Poppea tried to slip back, she found her hand -held in the same grasp and a kiss fell squarely upon her lips. - -She did not blush then or separate the greeting in any way from the -good-by of ten months before. But later, as they gathered about the -supper table where Madam Oldys sat behind the tray, handling the chubby -tea-caddy for the first time in months, and Poppea looked at Hugh as he -attacked the "hasty hot dish" with a traveller's relish, she knew that -he was and yet was not the same. The span of the months and distance had -added immeasurably to the man, but the boy, the chum, the comrade, that -he had been even throughout his college days, had vanished, and a hot -color flushed her face up to her hair roots until she became so -conscious of it that she put her hand up as though to shade her eyes -from the light. - -Before, Hugh Oldys had been clean shaven and slender for his height; now -he was filled out without fleshiness, and a closely trimmed beard and -crisp, clearly pencilled mustache gave a new masculinity to his face -without in any way concealing the determined yet flexible lips or the -nostril curve that told of nerves high strung but perfectly under the -control of will. - -Naturally it was Hugh who talked the most, his father putting brief -questions and gazing in deep contentment at his wife, who, without -expressing a shadow of the loneliness she must have felt or even asking -Hugh why he had shortened his year by nearly three months, was reviving -and expanding; a miracle under their very eyes, like the refreshment of -a plant that, withered and famished, takes hold of life anew even at the -breath of the wind that brings rain. - -A year before, Poppea would have stayed on as a matter of course, one of -the family group, but now she felt that on this precious evening the -three should be alone together, and when Hugh went upstairs to change to -a coat more suitable to the sultry night, she whispered a few words in -Madam Oldys's ear about feeling quite rested and not being needed now -for company; then with a nod to Mr. Oldys, finger on lips, slipped -through the side hall where hung her hat and scarf, and thence through -the garden gate into the depths of the June evening, where every bush -held a flower in bud and every tree a sleeping bird. - -The Oldyses saw nothing strange in her going, for she had always come -and gone at will. Rather it was another proof of her thought of them, -this silent understanding that three was company that night; besides, a -half-mile walk alone on a street where each house kept watch over its -neighbor, was a mere nothing to a village girl. - -"Where is Poppea?" was Hugh's question on reëntering, his hands full of -the trinkets of travel that he had pulled hastily from his grip. "Gone -home? alone in the dark? why, Mother!" and dropping his burden in her -lap, he went out the low French window and sprang over the piazza rail -without turning the corner for the steps. - -Mother and father, sitting side by side, exchanged glances and a hand -pressure that revealed that they two recognized a change in Hugh, but -that they were well content in the knowledge. - -Poppea walked down the side road to the main street that passed the base -of Quality Hill before she heard the rapid footsteps behind her that -halted presently by her side. No word was spoken, but her hand was drawn -through a muscular arm and held there fast. A year ago this might have -happened without comment, but the arm was not the same, neither the hand -that rested on it. - -"What made you run away, Poppea? You never did before; that is, never -but once." - -As soon as he had completed the heedless sentence, Hugh was sorry, while -to Poppea it was as though some one had spread the last seven years of -her life before her guised in a knitted fabric, and slipping the thread, -bade her ravel it stitch by stitch to its beginning. - -"I thought you would wish to be alone with the home people," she said, -searching for her words as if they were packed away for lack of use. - -"And what are you if you are not one of the home people? what else have -you ever been to me since the day that I first saw you and for a moment -wasn't quite sure whether I wanted you or the puppy the most?" - -Poppea could not answer at once; the ground seemed unsteady. The months -of parting had broken the old shuttle and snapped the thread; what -pattern would the new loom weave that the meeting had set in motion? - -At this moment they were passing the church, and the lamp in Stephen -Latimer's study cast a path of light across the turf almost to their -feet, against which the outline of his face was silhouetted. - -"Aren't you going in to see the Latimers?" she said, forgetting that -Hugh's last question was unanswered. - -"No, not to-night; to-morrow. This hour is mine and yours, Poppea. Why -do you shiver so and draw away; you've always taken my arm?" - -"I didn't know that I was doing either, but somehow everything seems -different to-night, strange and new. Perhaps it is because I've not been -feeling quite myself for a few days. Only this morning the doctor sent -me up to the Mill House for a change." Then, in her turn, Poppea -regretted the final words. - -"And my homecoming has sent you away when you were tired, and that is -why you falter. This is a bitter thought." - -"It is not exactly that; I don't know what it is, but that I seem to -bring distress upon all those I care for," and from a rush of -half-coherent words he heard of her friendship with Philip and its -results to him, and in a partial way the danger to Oliver Gilbert. As -she talked, they had reached the post-office house gate. - -The house itself was dark, but a light shone from Gilbert's workroom. On -the side porch the ample figure of Mrs. Shandy rocked to and fro, -fanning vigorously. - -As Poppea turned toward the steps, almost stumbling in her fatigue, Hugh -guided her along the path to a bench by the orchard edge, an old -schoolhouse bench with a platform under foot that he had made once, -years ago, when Gilbert had chided Poppea for letting the dew spoil her -new Sunday shoes. - -"Sit here," he said; "take off your hat and let the air blow through -your hair, while I get you some water." - -How good it seemed to have some one say with authority, "do this," or -"do that," the unspoken motive being "because it is for your good." Then -she began to realize that during the last few months she and Daddy had -rather been shifting places in point of responsibility. - -She drank the water slowly and gratefully, knowing through the clear -starlight that his eyes were on her face, and as she drank she breathed -the perfume of the half-double damask roses that had long ago crept from -the garden above the parapet to make a thicket on either side the bank. - -"A little while ago you said that everything seemed different and -strange. Then both of us feel this. I had not landed on the other shore -last autumn, hardly left this even, when the wrench of parting told me -that everything was different, and would remain so. But I wanted you to -have a chance to feel it for yourself if might be, and I kept it from my -letters,--though I knew they were like wretched guide-books,--because I -dared not let myself go. - -"To-night, when I came back, hurried by Dr. Morewood's letter, and saw -the woman who gave me life clinging to my little comrade, I knew the -time had come when I must tell her that my love had changed." - -"Then can we no longer be friends?" Poppea asked faintly. "Must I lose -you, too, as I have lost Philip?" - -"Always friends, Poppea; that is the beginning. Are not Stephen Latimer -and Jeanne friends? and my father and mother also? But it must be more -than friends, everything that a man and woman may be to each other. The -change is that I love you as Latimer does Jeanne, that I want you for my -wife. - -"Is that strange to you, Poppea? or does it seem to you as it does to -me, the fulfilment?" and Hugh leaned toward her, pale and anxious, in -the starlight and holding out his arms. - -Poppea turned quickly as though she would let him take her, then -catching her breath, drew back, covering her face with her hands, while -a half-forgotten harmony forced itself on her ears, and once more the -Knight of the Grail waving farewell, with the mystic sadness on his -face, passed before her mental vision. - -"Oh, Hugh!" she moaned, "I've lost you, lost you! It isn't what I feel; -it isn't what I wish! Don't you see that I can never be any man's wife, -much less yours, who knows my whole life through, until I can give my -own name with my love?" - -"That is for me to say, and I say yes!" cried Hugh, holding her to him -as though to prove her need of protection. - -"No, it is for neither of us to say; it is something beyond ourselves. I -cannot tell why, but I know it," Poppea answered, without the tremor of -the previous moment, but with a pleading dignity that made Hugh drop his -arms. - -"Suppose that something should some day come to light, when it was too -late, that made it wrong for me to love you, we might not be able to -bear the harm of it only ourselves." Then springing up with all the -intensity of nerve and lithe motion that marked her dancing, she stood -before him, with hands clasped, beseeching. - -"Oh, Hugh, Hugh, can't you help me; won't you help me find out who I am? -for sometimes I think that Daddy knows and will not tell!" - -"And if I can, is that all that stands between us, Poppea? Look into my -face so that I can see your eyes when you answer me." - -"Oh, Hugh, be patient with me, be merciful! How can I say until I know -my name, for it may be--that I have no real right to any." - -It was so long before Hugh spoke that Poppea found herself counting her -heart-beats, so keenly was the silence borne in upon her. - -Then she said timidly: "Meanwhile, Hugh, could you--could we go on being -friends? Your mother and Daddy, what could I say to them if we didn't -speak? What should I do without you?" - -Once more he drew her toward him, this time gently, not passionately. -"It isn't an easy road that is before us, little one, but it is hardest -for you, because I must, in any event, go out to make my way. Though I -do not agree with your resolution, I do not say it is wrong. - -"I love you, man to woman; that is where I stand. You must not forget -this for a moment, as I shall not. But you must not fear that I shall -harry you. I shall not tell you this in words again until you say to me, -'I need you, Hugh.'" - -"Not even if the mystery of the name is solved?" - -"Not even then, for only under such conditions will you cease to be on -your guard, and without frankness the name of friendship would be a -farce." - -"And your mother, if she asks you--I think now she has perhaps -thought--" - -"Yes, she loves you, Poppea, as my mother should love my wife. She is -the only one who has a right to ask. I shall tell the truth, which is -that we have come to a perfect understanding. - -"One thing more, Poppea; remember _you_ are not bound." - -If he could only have known the aching loneliness that fell upon her at -these words; again she seemed to feel herself cut adrift. With a sudden -turn she clung to him, and he, lifting her face, kissed her on lips and -eyes, whispering, "To-morrow or five years hence, you need only speak or -write the four words." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE TURNING - - -When one has spent the early morning hours of a journey, in which no -steps may be retraced, in following a fairly straight and level path -through a familiar wood, hindered only by a few briers, with sheltering -trees above, pleasant vistas on every side, and in friendly company, -hope rises high and straightway trusts the path ahead. But when an -abrupt turn shows there is a steep to climb, the pathway itself becomes -confused, indefinite, treacherous, and the guiding voices have -scattered, some going one way and some another, what must one do? -Hesitate? sit down to think it out? or still walk on foot-length by -foot-length, trusting to circumstance for keeping the course that one -may not divine? - -It was at the turn of such a road as this that Poppea found herself; she -could not go back if she would, and friendly voices called in opposite -directions from her own instinct. Of one thing only she was quite sure, -she must go on without a pause lest in it she lose courage; she must -climb on her hands and knees even, if necessary. The only mistake she -made was in thinking, as we all have done at times since the days of the -self-gratulatory St. Paul enumerating his trials, that she had reached -the turning alone. - -If she had but realized it, Oliver Gilbert, near the end of his journey -and travelling in the opposite direction, was confronted by the same -sharp turn and the same barrier, that to each this bore the same -name--The Future! - -If Poppea had been pondering how she could help her Daddy and lead him -naturally toward the resigning of his office, Gilbert was conscious of a -like necessity, but this was nothing compared to the appalling -realization of Poppea's womanhood that had suddenly confronted him. - -In Gilbert's simple mind, when a girl crossed the boundary of the -twentieth year, the mating time was at hand, and each year after that -she remained unbespoken if not married, reflected in some way either -upon her good looks, disposition, or opportunities. As in all rural -districts, there were many long courtships in Newfield County lasting -from half a dozen to even a dozen years, but after the serious -intentions of the man were recognized, and the woman was spoken of as -"his intended," then the couple passed from the interest of the -match-makers into a sort of intermediate state, wherein they were both -supposed to be working for a common end and the duration of which was -considered purely their own business. - -As Oliver Gilbert looked about at the eligible male population of the -country-side, his perplexity increased; many were prosperous after their -own standards, and some were even ambitious, but which one of them was -fit to mate with Poppea? Moreover, such an idea had never seemed to -occur to any of them. The only youths, who, dressed in their best, had -come of a Saturday evening to lean on the little shelf before the window -of the beehive and cast boldly admiring glances and random and -irrelevant remarks at the postmistress, were of the verdant and -irrepressible sort that Gilbert would not have tolerated for a moment, -and that Poppea had effectually withered by giving absolutely no more -heed to their pleasantries than to the wind muttering about the windows. - -The matter that had brought Gilbert face to face with the rock behind -which lay the pathway to futurity, was a call from a prosperous -manufacturer of Bridgeton, a clean, well-built man of five and thirty, -self-made and commercially intelligent, if lacking the culture that -marks the man of real education. He had met Poppea at the church, where -she had sung for several months the previous winter, and was sincere and -outspoken in his admiration of her. - -In a straightforward way he had come to the point and, with -old-fashioned courtesy, asked Gilbert for permission to court his -daughter, stipulating that he wished no influence brought to bear upon -her, only leave to make his own way if he might. - -The whole thing was so sudden, and came from a sky so wholly cloudless, -that Gilbert had difficulty at first in keeping down a choking -resentment at the man's presumption, while, at the same time, these -feelings were checked by the realization that as the world measures, -the man who owned a well-equipped factory, and had half a hundred men on -his pay-roll, was the one who was condescending. These mixed feelings -caused Gilbert to hesitate, begin a sentence only to break it off, and -finally, flushed and perspiring, say, "I'm afraid that you don't -understand; it isn't all just what I've got to say about it nor Poppy, -either, sir." - -Then very quietly and with a good deal of dignity, this man had drawn -near to Gilbert, and, lowering his voice, said: "That's what I do -understand; I know that she isn't your own born, for I was a lad driving -for the Westboro stables the time that she came here. Fifteen years -before that, I was left the same way at Deacon Tilley's in North -Bridgeton, so there's no need of explanations between Miss Gilbert and -myself; neither will have aught to hold against the other in family -matters." - -A groan had escaped Gilbert, before he could control himself -sufficiently to say briefly that Poppea, being of age, was her own -mistress. But after the man had gone, he paced up and down the shop, his -hands working nervously, until at last big tears rolled down his cheeks, -and, sitting at his desk, head on his arms, he said aloud: "The lady -baby as good as asked in marriage by a boy left on old Tilley's steps, -and then driving teams for Beers, and nothing for either to throw at the -other! Well, why not old Gilbert's steps as well as old Tilley's? What -can I say? I _feel_ the difference, but that isn't proving it! - -"I wonder what you'd have done, if you'd been cornered this way," he -continued, looking up at the portrait of Lincoln, that hung in the same -place as on the night of Poppea's coming. But now, a well-grown ivy -plant was wreathed about it, growing from a pot that stood on the window -ledge in a spot that the sun visited daily throughout the year, showing -that a woman's affection had been added to that of the old man's -hero-worship. - -"Would you have stopped still just long enough to tell a story to make -folks laugh, and then gone straight on and walked over or out of the -trouble? Could you have done that if you'd had a more than daughter that -was too good for any man and yet a nameless man asked for her on equal -terms just because she _wasn't_ your daughter?" - -As the incoherence of his speech dawned upon him, he threw back his head -and laughed aloud, then stopped short, calmed and steady of hand, as if -there had been something almost prophetic in the sound. - -This had happened on the day of Poppea's visit to the Mill House and -Hugh Oldys's return. A week afterward, Poppea, very quietly and with -some hesitation, broached the subject of singing in New York and of its -possibilities, together with her intention of taking lessons of a famous -teacher, who had been an opera singer, was a friend of the Feltons, and -feeling the need of rest, was to spend the month of August with them on -the hill. - -Instead of the opposition that she had expected, both on the ground of -Gilbert's seeing neither the necessity of self-support nor of her -partial separation from him, he not only gave a cheerful assent, but a -look as of a weight having been lifted from him crossed his face, and he -broke into what was for him voluble conversation about the virtue of -having something to do and doing it "up brown"; for this move of -Poppea's told the old man what he most wished to know, that either the -Bridgeton admirer had altered his intentions or been repulsed. - -Then drawing from his pocket a letter that had come by the milkman and -not the post, Gilbert said: "Come to speaking of winter, Poppy, there's -something that I've had it on my mind to tell you, but I couldn't see my -way clear of it until to-day, and I didn't want to hamper you ahead. -Mrs. Shandy has set her mind on going back to the old country next fall, -as there's less and less likelihood of her seeing Philip, and she says -the living so near is only an aggravation. Now to-day comes a letter -from sister Satira Potts. She writes that 'Lisha has a chance to get the -contract for cutting all the grown chestnut timber from the Stryker -Hollow tract that lies along Moosatuck, to the west side, about twenty -miles to the north of Bridgeton. If he takes it, and it will advantage -them greatly if he does, he will have to stay in the camp all week and -only come home for Sundays, Satiry thereby being left lonesome. So the -pith of her letter is, that she's sort of feeling 'round to see if there -is any chance of her being wanted down here for the winter, as it is -handier for 'Lisha to come here from Bridgeton than to take the drive -round about home. I reckon it'll seem good to me to have sister Satiry -Potts back here. Mrs. Shandy's strong in British ways of toast and tea, -boiling green peas and mint together, and having a forceful way of -_looking_ me into a clean collar at meal times when I've chanced to lay -mine by for comfort. But for coffee and pancakes, brown bread and beans -that's cooked until they're swelled to burst, but daresn't, being -checked at just the moment, give me Satiry, who also speaks right out -about my collar and such, without ado. - -"So you see, child, that old Daddy'll be well cared for, and you'll have -a ready listener to tell all about the city doings to when you come -back; for if they fancy you down there, there'll be a great to do; most -likely you'll have flowers thrown at you; I've read about its being done -for opery singers in the paper, and if they, why not you? Though likely, -if you're singing in folks' houses, they'll hand the posies to you, -instead of throwin', as being more polite and safer for the mantel -ornaments and mottoes on the wall. - -"Oh, child, child," he continued, as, leaning over his chair in her -old-time way, Poppea had laid her soft cheek against his grizzled beard, -and at the contact the mental vision of each grew clearer, "a couple of -weeks ago, all at once, things fell into a sort of heaviness, and as -late as yesterday I couldn't seem to see the way ahead. But now I think -the corner's sort of swinging to the turning, and pretty soon we may -come to another good stretch of road, and if the Lord hasn't other -plans, mebbe he'll let me walk beside you on it for a little piece yet, -until younger company comes up that's spryer, Poppy. And when they do, -remember one thing, honey-clover, don't let old Daddy hold you -backward; step right off brisk. Daddy'll be content to stop behind, so -long as he sees you on before." - -"Don't, Daddy, don't," she whispered, putting her hand over his mouth to -stop him. "Nobody else is going to walk beside me; it's either you or -loneliness, so never speak of falling back." She did not repeat the -reason that she had given Hugh Oldys, but Gilbert quickly divined it -from the tension of her arm, and the momentary joy that he had felt was -stifled in a sigh as though self merged in super-self. - - * * * * * - -In early autumn, Hugh Oldys went to his work, and though he usually -returned for Sunday, it was not always possible. To his mother the break -seemed more complete and of a different quality than the separation -either of his college life or his travels; these had been tentative, the -last final. It was the first independent stepping out of the only one, -upon the way that leads from home, not toward it, even by an indirect -circuit. - -Almost at the same time, Philip had returned, and had taken up his work -anew at Howell's studio at Westboro. Physically, he looked much -improved; his skin was sun-browned with sometimes a dash of color, he -weighed more, and his face had gained in strength and resolution. But -when he had been at work a month with the master, Howell saw that what -he was gaining in accuracy and flexibility was more than discounted by a -total lack of inspiration. - -"Where is she? What has become of the young woman who is not a model or -to be had for the asking? Why not try the head once more from memory?" -Howell asked abruptly one day, after his pupil had worked for an entire -morning with the listless accuracy that is almost infuriating to the -real artist. - -Taken off his guard, Philip cried out:-- - -"She is dead! My father murdered her and threw the pieces out of the -window." - -For a moment Howell was startled. Then, as he looked at the face turned -toward him, proud yet quivering at a wound, he read therein a tragedy -whose underlying principles were greater than mere murder. - -"Come and tell me about it, or you will let it kill your work and you -also," he said, fastening his eyes upon Philip in compelling sympathy, -at the same time stretching out his hand with a gesture wholly -compassionate, and motioning him to follow to an inner room beyond the -studio, where strangers never entered. - -It was quite an hour before the pair returned, the master's arm resting -on Philip's shoulder. - -"Now," he said, "we will make alive again, for that is the sculptor's -trade. This is my studio, and what I tell my pupils to do, they obey if -they are able, and it is the concern of no one outside. But this time -make her joyous and not pensive, in love with life; make her look up; -part her lips as though she were about to sing; twine poppies in her -hair to carry out her name; a butterfly on her shoulder, the Greek -emblem of immortality. Then she shall live here with us, and you can -look at her when you see nothing but bone and muscles in the lump of -clay you are working." - -So Philip went to work once more, buoyed up in that some one understood -and did not scoff, and that some one was the master, who knew. But he -saw the real Poppea only once to speak to her, at Stephen Latimer's, -before the time when the Felton ladies bore her with them to New York -for her musical début, in that season of social introduction that is -crowded between Thanksgiving and Christmastide. She was cordial and the -very same when looked at from a distance, but when Philip stood before -her, he was conscious of a subtle change, a certain veiling and holding -back of self, where all had been spontaneous and freely given before, -yet, as a woman, this added distinctly to her charm. - -"Can she know about my father; is it turning her away from me?" was his -constant thought, finally to be banished by the impossibility of such a -thing being the case, for the studio walls had no ears, and violent as -John Angus was in private, Philip well knew from his summer's experience -that it was no part of his father's policy to hold up his dislikes or -grievances for the public to peck at. - -The next time that he saw Poppea it was through the doorway of a -flower-trimmed room, where she had been singing. During the intermission -a stringed quartet was playing Mendelssohn's _Songs without Words_ from -behind a screen of palms. In the circle that surrounded her, to which -she was in course of being presented by Miss Emmy, the evening gowns of -women were equally mingled with the black coats of the men, while the -figure nearest to her, holding her bouquet of Maréchal Neil roses and -ferns, was that of Bradish Winslow. - -As Philip gazed hesitant about entering alone and yet wishing to, he -stepped backward, and in so doing jostled some one who was looking over -his shoulder. Turning, he saw that it was Hugh Oldys. - -"Are you going to speak to her?" Philip asked eagerly after the first -words of greeting. - -"Yes, surely, I am only waiting for the crowd to thin a little; I think, -Philip, that she will be glad to see some home faces among all these -strangers." - -As they waited, Caleb came through the wide hall with an envelope in his -hand, peering anxiously into every masculine face. When he caught sight -of Hugh, he drew close to him, standing on tiptoe the better to reach -his ear. - -"This here's a telegraph despatch fo' you, Marsa Hugh, and de boy what -brings it says it's a 'mergency and wants to be opened spry. Doan yo' -want to step in the little 'ception room and circumnavigate it private -like? Dem 'mergency despatches is terrible unsettlin', sah!" - -Hugh seized the envelope, opening it with a nervous twist as he crossed -the hall to the room indicated by Caleb where there was a drop-light, -Philip following close. - - "Your father has had a serious accident. Your mother unstrung. Bring - up MacLane or Grahammond, to-night, if possible. STEPHEN LATIMER." - -Hugh dropped into a chair, and spreading the paper on the table, read -it a second time, motioning Philip to do likewise. - -"MacLane and Grahammond are both brain specialists, I think; it must be -that the accident is to his head. I wonder where they live," he said, -half to himself and half aloud. Then turning to Caleb, who stood at a -respectful distance, the embodiment of discreet curiosity, he asked him -if there was a city directory in the house. - -"Not jest that big ornery volume what dey keeps in drug stores, Marsa -Hugh, but Miss Emmy, she's got de little Blue Book on her desk, what -records all de quality, sah, and guarantees 'em true, and I'll fotch it -right away." - -Hugh jotted the two addresses on a card, then rising, shook himself as -though to be sure he was awake. At this moment the tones of a clear -mezzo-soprano voice floated across the hall. - - "What's this dull town to me? Robin's not here!" - -Poppea was singing _Robin Adair_. Hugh listened until the verse was -ended, his face white and drawn with contending emotions. Then turning -abruptly to Philip and reading both comprehension and sympathy in his -glance, he said abruptly:-- - -"Tell her that I've been here, but was called away by bad news from -home. No--not that, it might spoil her evening. Only say that I could -not wait," and taking his hat and coat that Caleb was holding, he went -out. - -By the time Poppea had answered the last encore that her strength would -allow, a Creole folk-song ending in the minor key, Philip had made his -way through the throng that surrounded the girl, who was radiant with a -success that must appeal to her artistic sense, if her natural woman's -love of approbation was in the background. When she saw Philip, her -whole expression changed and softened, while the lips that had been -parted in laughing repartee drooped to wistfulness. - -Bradish Winslow, who still kept his post, noticed the change at once, -and, following her eyes for the cause, was surprised at his own feeling -of relief upon discovering Philip. - -Poppea came forward and, refraining from putting her hand upon his -shoulder in the old way that marked his boyishness, greeted him as she -would any other young fellow of nineteen, drawing him into a little -group back of the long piano where he saw Miss Emmy and half a dozen of -the Quality Hill colony. At the same time, he was conscious that her -eyes were looking over his head in a rapid search for something or some -one that she did not see, which reminded him of the message. - -"Hugh Oldys has been here," he said, "and was very sorry that he could -not wait to see you." - -"Then he has gone? Why could he not wait?" - -Philip, who read Poppea's moods with mercurial swiftness, was tempted to -add some words of explanation, but Winslow, hearing Poppea's question, -intervened, saying, to her ear alone:-- - -"Now you have earned a rest in cooler air where you can enjoy the -reflection of the pleasure you have given. Miss Emmy has a surprise for -you; Capoul, the most expressive emotional tenor of a decade, is coming -in from the opera where he is singing Wilhelm Meister in _Mignon_. You -have never heard it? Ah, there is so much music that I wish to hear -again for the first time through watching you hear it." - -The next morning Poppea slept late, owing to the fact that Nora had -slipped in and closed the shutters fast. She had intended taking the -early train for home, as three days would elapse before she was to sing -at an afternoon concert given for the benefit of a fashionable charity. - -When Nora finally judged that it was proper for the household protégée, -in whom she took no small pride, to awake, and brought her coffee and -rolls to her room, after the Feltons' winter custom, Poppea found -herself undergoing a sort of nervous reaction caused by the excitement -of the night before and the lack of air in the shuttered room. Twelve -o'clock was the next train possible, and entering the library to make -positive her going, she found Stephen Latimer standing before the fire, -while the ladies and Mr. Esterbrook sat opposite him in benumbed -silence, Miss Emmy having her handkerchief pressed to her eyes. - -Miss Felton motioned Poppea to the lounge beside her: "Mr. Latimer has -brought us dreadful news! Please tell her, Stephen." - -For a moment Poppea thought that she would suffocate; suppose that Daddy -was dead and she away! Then she found herself listening as through -rushing water to the story of how Mr. Oldys, when superintending the -placing of a heavy piece of the new machinery, had been instantly killed -by its fall. - -The mill hands, becoming demoralized in their wild rush to get a -physician, had broken the news abruptly to Madam Oldys, which at first -she did not believe. But later, when they brought her husband home and -Dr. Morewood was sitting by watching for a heart collapse, her mind, not -her body, had suddenly given way--not weakly or plaintively, but -violently, in a manner that no one who had witnessed her frailty would -have deemed possible, so that restraint was imperative. - -Hugh had been sent for the previous evening, and two specialists were -even then on their way to Harley's Mills for consultation. Latimer -himself had come down to inform Hugh's new employers, as well as to do -some friendly acts of necessity. - -"I am going home at noon," was Poppea's spoken answer to Latimer, but -between the brief words he read much besides. - -"I expected that you would, and told Oliver Gilbert so in passing," was -his reply. - -"How is Hugh?" was her first question, when after the bustle of transit -they were seated in the train with no other passengers in their -immediate vicinity. - -"Perfectly quiet, but as one stunned; his sorrow for his father is deep -enough, but his anguish at his mother's condition is heartrending." - -"Is there--do you think that there is anything I could do if I should go -there?" she faltered. - -"Not now, my child; it is a time when no friend and not even a man's -wife must come between him and his sorrow, his thoughts are only for the -eye of God. Such help as Charlotte needs below stairs is being given by -Jeanne and Satira Potts." - -"And the funeral?" - -"Will be from St. Luke's to-morrow." - -The next day Poppea and Oliver Gilbert followed with the rest, the -Feltons, Mr. Esterbrook, and half the summer colony. She only caught a -glimpse of Hugh, who, tearless, looking neither to the right or left, -seemed hewn from marble. - -How could she go back to town, Poppea thought, and wreathe her hair and -sing? If only she knew, if she could comfort Hugh in anyway; but he saw -no one but Stephen Latimer. She had set her feet on the path of -self-support and could not leave it now; there was nothing to do but -wait. - -Two weeks passed and public interest in Hugh Oldys's affairs had reached -a high pitch. Were the Mills to be abandoned? What would become of the -expectant men? Then it was whispered, though not maliciously, that Mr. -Oldys's affairs were seriously involved, and that a strong, alert man -with a keen business head would be required to save the property. - -Poppea being at home one morning within the month of Mr. Oldys's death, -Stephen Latimer came to the post-office house, and being as usual -questioned as to whether there was any improvement in Mrs. Oldys's -condition, said, almost as though he were giving a requested message.-- - -"No, there is none, nor ever likely to be; the specialists gave this as -their decision yesterday and advised that she be sent at once to a -trustworthy asylum, because the strain of her care, even if competent -nurses came between, would be too much for any one person." - -"Will Hugh let her be taken away?" asked Poppea, with dilating eyes and -hands tightly clasped. - -"No, never! He says that from now on he will, if necessary, withdraw -from everything else to care for her and keep the home intact, in case -that she comes to herself, and missing something, wonders. - -"This is not all," Latimer continued. "In order to have the money to -care for her, his father's funds being all placed in this new venture, -he must leave his profession, assume immediate control of the Mills, and -fight it out to a finish. But in this forced work lies his salvation. -When I saw him to-day, I marvelled at the new nobility of his face. -Resolution has always been its chief characteristic, now resignation is -blended with it. God grant that hope, born of the two, may presently -soften its set lines." - -That Hugh had wholly put away his need of her was the meaning that -Poppea took from Latimer's words. Then she, too, would lose herself in -work, and the next day that she went to the city to sing, she let Miss -Emmy persuade her that she owed it to her art to tarry between times and -take the lessons that Tostelli was so eager to give her. When once hard -at work, with the best music to be heard by way of relaxation, small -wonder if the days were winged to Poppea, and at times disappointment -and responsibility alike seemed the unreal things of life; she would -have been less than a woman had it been otherwise. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A PROPOSAL - - -On returning from her singing lesson in the middle of a bitter cold -January afternoon, Poppea had walked the short distance from Chickering -Hall back to the Felton house on Madison Square, so far up in the clouds -that she was quite unconscious that her feet touched the icy pavements. -For not only had Tostelli commended her improved vocalization with true -Italian fervor expressed in elaborate French, but he had praised her -first teacher, Stephen Latimer, saying: "He who has brought out -Mademoiselle's voice thus far without a scratch or strain or a falsity -has done so much that she may hope to be anything that she wills, even -an _artiste_ of the Grand Opera, after much study abroad. That she can -also act, I am ver' certain, for what she sings that she is for the -time, gay, _triste_, _pathetique_, simple _comme en enfant_, _mais -toujours naturel_, _toujours ravissante_." Then he had asked her to take -the leading part in an operetta that was to be given by his pupils -toward the end of the season in one of the ample old houses on Gramercy -Park that boasted a perfectly equipped private theatre. - -So buoyed up was she by his words that she had crossed the park, the -exquisite articulation of its crystal-covered trees still further -keeping up the illusion of fairyland wherein she was for the moment -living, and reached the steps of the house, before she realized where -she was, and that she was expected to make a round of calls with Miss -Emmy instead of going to sit by the fire and think it all out as she -desired. She had been in the company of others all day and had the need, -possessed by all those of her temperament, to be alone to realize -herself. - -"Are the ladies at home?" was her question to Caleb as he opened the -door, knowing that the day's history would be forthcoming. - -"Yes, Missy, and Mr. Esterbrook too; he doan seems to feel right peart -to-day. He didn't go to the club for his luncheon, and he isn't going to -the painter man's what's doing his picture. Miss 'Liz'beth's going out -later, but Miss Emmy's 'cided not to budge herself, and's taking her -comfort in the sitting room, where I'm to bring de tea soon's you come." - -"Good!" cried Poppea, running up to her room as swiftly as she had done -many years before when Winslow had caught her dancing. Only this time, -instead of kneeling in front of the open window for breath, she threw -off her street things, loosened her hair that had been compressed by her -hat, and slipping on a soft crimson wrapper that she and Satira Potts -had fashioned when she had been getting together what the latter -insisted upon calling her "trowsoo" for the city, went down to the -sitting room, the door of which stood hospitably open. - -The upstairs sitting room was one of the unsurpassed institutions of -the day among those who had sufficiently ample houses to allow for it. -Usually occupying the front room of the second floor, it served both as -a watch-tower of the street and a comfortable place of retreat when "not -at home," or "engaged," according to the moral veracity of the family, -was the word at the door. While there is a certain responsibility about -the coherent furnishings of all other rooms, from the music room of bare -floor and scant drapery to the library with its heavy rugs, draped -alcoves, and precise shelving--the sitting room may take tribute from -all others. A small upright piano, an open case of books, a table -serving both for writing and a comfortable litter of magazines, deep -nestlike chairs and a lounge that invites impromptu sleep without the -ceremonious disrobing suggested by a bedroom, a joyful canary or two, -and a shelf of blooming plants in the sunniest window complete the -setting. - -The modern living room is undoubtedly grandchild of the sitting room -that abdicated in its favor a quarter of a century ago, owing to an -increasing contraction in house room. For the living room in ordinary -houses is more often a combination of library, drawing and dining room, -than a separate bit of luxury; also it is usually on the first floor, -and therefore below the range of safety for flowing hair, kimonos, -slippers, and pajamas. - -When Poppea entered the Feltons' sitting room and saw Miss Emmy in one -of the deep chairs, released from stays and elaborate hair-dress, -actually sitting on her feet in curled-up comfort, while she petted Diva -the great fox-gray Angora, so-called from the vocal quality of her -purr,--whose wonderful fur enveloped her mistress like a lap robe,--she -knew that Miss Elizabeth had already gone out and she felt a sudden -relaxation and rush of comfort that brought tears of pleasure very near -to her eyes. - -"Ring for the tea, child, and then we can shut the door and be by -ourselves," said Miss Emmy, keeping her eyes fixed on the fire. - -When Caleb had brought in and lighted the kettle lamp and put another -lump of the unctuous Liverpool coal upon the fire, Poppea seated herself -on the tiger rug by Miss Emmy's chair and fed bits of Sally Lunn cake to -the cat while she waited for the elder woman to speak of the something -that lay behind her eager, restless expression. - -"Tell me about your day," said Miss Emmy, abruptly. - -Poppea began with her call at Mrs. Hewlett's, that the songs for her -afternoon musical of the next week might be chosen. In addition to the -list of old English ballads, Mrs. Hewlett had asked if she knew any -darky songs, and finding that she did, suggested that she make a -separate specialty of these as novelty was a _must be_ in social -entertaining. Then Gloria Hooper had taken her home to luncheon almost -forcibly, and there Bradish Winslow had drifted in and walked with her -over to Chickering Hall. Tostelli's comments and the hopes that were -aroused in her rounded out the narrative, while she waited, hands -clasped about her knees and her eyes gazing into Miss Emmy's, for her -judgment upon the matter. - -"You are beginning, Poppea. Every one is very nice to you, as they -should be, and New York seems to you the promised land; so it seemed to -me thirty-five years ago. This singing, half socially, half -professionally, is very pleasant while it lasts; but if, when the winter -is over, you've made up your mind that you are going to let music hold -the first place, then you must go on,--go abroad and study with the -concert stage, if not opera, for the goal." - -"Oh, Aunty, Aunty, you fly too fast!" Poppea cried. "Daddy is first, -though music fills up all the gaps and fits in between times and people, -and is letting me earn enough to save and help Daddy when he shall need -it. I am not even dreaming of opera, and 'abroad' is such a far-away -place. Why can't I stay where I am for at least a half a dozen years?" - -"Why? because they won't let you;" then as if she feared by the look of -pained wonder on Poppea's face that she had gone too far in the rather -bitter mood that was upon her, she laughed lightly. - -"There, there, you mustn't mind my nonsense, but I'm in a state of -rebellion myself to-day, and so wish every one else to be likewise. I've -just told sister Elizabeth that I will go on no more of the -wild-goose-chase performances known as 'making formal calls,' and that -after the dinners and other entertainments that are already afoot -between now and March are over, I shall withdraw from what is known as -'society'; not from my real friends, mind you, but merely from the -tyranny of the thing that should be called the 'Institution for -Amusement at the expense of one's own and one's neighbors' Comfort.' If -Elizabeth wishes to continue, she must, to use a card phrase, 'go it -alone.' - -"I am going abroad in the early spring, and when I return, I mean to -spend most of my time at Westboro, and see if Jeanne and Stephen Latimer -between them cannot find some work for my hands and brain that will keep -my heart from either freezing or turning wholly to stone," and Miss Emmy -broke off and held up Diva before her face in a vain effort to suppress -a dry sob that made her voice tremble. - -"Why, Miss Emmy, I have always thought that you loved New York and all -the people with whom you have lived so many years,--the art galleries, -theatres, music, shops, and all the rest. Don't you remember what you -said to me about it last autumn when you urged me to come down and try -my luck? That no American has lived or is fit to judge how or where they -will spend their lives until they have seen and known New York," and -Poppea arose to her knees in front of her admonisher, an expression of -incredulity on her upturned face, and her hands clasped in a -half-beseeching, half-defensive attitude. - -"Yes, I believe I did say that among other things, and it is true none -the less because, after having tried it for the best of my life, I have -decided to leave it before it leaves me. The New York that I knew is -passing in more senses than one. When I first came to it, making the -journey from Boston by boat, Washington Square was the north side of the -residential city limit, the present corners of Fourteenth Street and -Fifth Avenue cow pastures. There were many charming country houses all -through the northern part of the Island and more especially near the -Hudson, Bradish Winslow's grandfather, on the maternal side, living in -one of them. We ourselves went to visit at the Waddell mansion set on -the edge of a farm with its wheat fields near what is now the corner of -Fifth Avenue and Thirty-seventh Street, the site of a church, a crowded -city in itself and this was less than forty years ago. Young as you are, -you can see the changes that seven or eight years have made, Poppea." - -"Yes, I remember the fire-bell that pealed out numbers, and people -looked in little books that they kept in their pockets to see in what -district the fire was. Nora used to take me to a place down in -Fourteenth Street where I fed goats and chickens through the fence, and -there was a house on Broadway a little above Union Square that stood in -a high-fenced garden where we used to feed the peacocks. - -"But now the streets seem so much gayer and better lighted at night, and -then it is easier to get about; there are so many street-cars instead of -the slow, jolting busses, and the elevated railroad over there on Sixth -Avenue is almost like flying. Though I'm very sorry there is to be a new -opera-house so far uptown in the place of the dear old Academy, for I -suppose the first of a thing must always seem the best because it is the -first," and Poppea's first night at the opera again came before her, but -this time there was more pleasure than pain in the memory. - -Was it possible that she had been too sensitive? The people by whom she -was surrounded seemed to make her one of themselves without question, -and yet, coming from Quality Hill as many of them did, they must all -know. - -"It is not simply the growth of the city that appals me," she heard Miss -Emmy's voice say as if from a distance. "Formerly, society was one; you -knew your friends well, their houses and their coachmen in the distance. -We who entertained did it to give our friends pleasure to the best of -our ability. Now people are beginning to entertain to outvie, and this -bidding for guests and the game of chance, where the victory is to the -purse if it is only used with a certain degree of discretion, is drawing -strangers to our social midst, and presto, society is no longer one but -many, and we shall soon be driven by the crowd from our houses to -entertain in hotels. - -"Look at this!" and Miss Emmy tossed a couple of cards into Poppea's -lap. One was the ordinary engraved card of a formal afternoon reception -announcing that Mrs. John Sellers and the Misses Sellers would be at -home on January the twenty-fourth, from four to seven. The second card -bore simply the name of Mrs. M. E. Wilson, the address on both cards -being the same. - -"I do not see anything amiss about these cards," said Poppea, examining -them carefully. - -"Not in the cards, but in the facts back of them. Maria Wilson, one of -the best known of the old set, has a large house, well furnished, but -her husband's means have been decreasing ever since the Tweed Ring panic -ten years ago. The Sellers are from Minneapolis, rich, ambitious, and -their daughters decently educated, but as a family in a social sense -positively unknown. Maria Wilson has rented them her house for the -winter, herself included, for an enormous price. It is at their -reception in her house where she is to stand sponsor for them, and if it -is a success, it shows that society in New York is no longer able to -stand upon its own resources. It is the entering wedge, for as soon as -we cease to know personally those we invite, one must have police in -dress suits to see that the strangers that come do not steal the -spoons." - -"How do you know all this, Aunty dear?" asked Poppea, a bewildered -expression crossing her face as she began to wonder if the social fabric -could possibly be woven of other than the silk and fair colors in which -it presented itself to her. - -"Know? Maria Wilson came here to luncheon to-day and not only told me -the scheme, but asked me to receive at _her_ reception (as she called -it) and bring you to sing 'in a perfectly friendly way,' which, of -course, means without pay. I'm quite through with it all, and then, -besides, dear child, I'm very tired; lately I only seem to breathe an -inch at a time when I'm in a close room. I must get away and be myself -for a little, even though it is a rather poor thing to be, I'm afraid. - -"Now as to this trip abroad--I want to see England in May and then go to -the continent for two months, and you must go with me, Poppea." - -"You want me? But how about Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Esterbrook? Are they -not going?" - -"No, dear; I have struck at last. It is late in the day, I allow, but -once before my eyes close I must see through them without benefit of the -spectacles of other opinions. Besides, poor Willy is losing his hold -upon things. Even Elizabeth has agreed that we must put our affairs at -Harley's Mills into the hands of Hugh Oldys, and Mr. Cragin, our lawyer -here, has practically all the responsibility at this end. Poppea child, -whatever you do or do not do in this world, do not put off living your -life to the full every day that it is possible. To-morrow is a good word -for hope to know, but remember that it is a bad word for a woman's heart -to feed upon. Will you go with me, dear?" - -Poppea was looking into the fire, watching the little flock of sparks -creep up and burn a pathway through the soot. "Folks going to meeting," -Satira Pegrim had called them when she had watched the same procession, -born of the wood embers, in the foreroom chimney. Without looking up, -she could feel Miss Emmy's eyes upon her face and knew that the question -in them was a double one. - -"I should like to go abroad with you," she said at last, still keeping -her eyes upon the fire, "and I crave living to the full, but that it -might hurt some one else and, through them, me." - -"That is what I thought for years, and now I know that what I thought -would hurt another did not exist. You say that you would like to go. Now -the remaining question is, will you?" - -"I will try to make it yes, but between now and then something might -happen or Daddy might need me, dear Miss Emmy." - -"That will do for a beginning, child. See, the kettle has quite boiled -away and you must have fresh water." - -"De mail, ladies," said Caleb, advancing at that moment with half a -dozen letters on his salver, while at the same time they discovered that -Diva, unobserved, had finished the cake. - -Miss Emmy's mail consisted of invitations, while of Poppea's two letters -one was from Oliver Gilbert, the other from Hugh Oldys. - -Gilbert wrote carefully and in detail of every village happening, how -that it was proposed, through the influence of the Quality Hill people -who did not like the prosaic name of the old town, to unite Westboro and -Harley's Mills into a single town to be known as West Harbor. In this -case the Westboro post-office would be consolidated with his, and he -thought, under the circumstances, with the double work, he would be -justified in resigning "his charge." What did Poppea think of it? Then -he dwelt upon Hugh Oldys's kindness in coming frequently to see them and -supping at the post-office house on Sunday nights. But he did not add -that Hugh had cross-questioned him most keenly and persistently about -any possible ideas that he might entertain about Poppea's origin, and -had quietly told him that sooner or later he should find it out, thus -putting Gilbert into something akin to rage; for, blindly enough, the -one dread of his life was that some one should appear to claim the lady -baby. - -For the moment Poppea was divided. Was this change, by any chance, -another scheme of John Angus's to oust her Daddy, or was it a -providential happening to render it easy for Gilbert to retire? Being -optimistic under all her trials, she decided upon the latter and turned -to the other letter. - -Hugh wrote in a subdued rather than in a sad key and, without reference -to the interim, picked up their friendship as it was before the night of -his return when the fabric began to change its weave and pattern. That -he felt the need of her old-time letters and direct companionship he did -not hesitate to say, at the same time taking it for granted that his -would be a comfort to her. He told her freely of his daily routine of -life and asked for hers in such a frank way, free alike from either -restraint or curiosity, that the comrade emerged once more, and she -resolved again to write him the weekly letter of his college days. - -Ah, what a boy he seemed, however much his manhood had been tried and -developed in the last few months, compared to the men who crowded about -her at the musicals, lavish in words of praise, personal compliments, -and gifts of flowers. To be sure, they all seemed a part of the play -world in which she was living--all but Bradish Winslow, and as he in a -sense had stepped accidentally into her life in its own home -surroundings, so he seemed in a way to belong to it. - -"A polished man of the world" was Miss Felton's favorite expression -concerning him; yet knowing this as she did, there was something about -Winslow's personality, his deference, at once soothing and stimulating, -that when she was with him made it the most natural and desirable place -for her to be; but when he was absent, the condition was altered, and -she not only wondered at a certain influence that he held over her, but -experienced a sharp sense of repulsion at it. - -It was the last of March when the rehearsals for the operetta drew to a -close. The performance would be given in Easter week. Two large houses -were to be thrown together for the occasion,--one for the musical part -of the affair, the other for the cotillon and supper following, the two -being joined by a covered passage between the gardens in the rear. - -Poppea's character in the rather fantastic performance was that of a -young girl of the pastoral type, who for a part of the play personated -an actress, and for this scene, in which there was a dance, she was to -utilize the green muslin Perdita gown of her first appearance at Quality -Hill. Of course at this season the poppies must be artificial and more -abundant for stage effect, and after many protestations she was told -that she simply _must_ have her eyes pencilled and a dash of color added -to her cheeks to guard against nervous pallor. - -When the night came, Mr. Esterbrook was not well, and Miss Felton, for -some accountable reason, in no mood for going out, so that Miss Emmy and -Poppea went to the Hoopers' alone in the depths of the last new carriage -which, as though to carry out Miss Emmy's announcement that her days for -light blue and pink were over, was lined with rich wine-colored cloth. - -Poppea hardly knew whether she wished most to go or to run away, but by -the time that she stood behind the dark green plush curtain peeping at -the audience from between its folds, the desire for achievement had come -to her, and she was ready to stay and conquer. Very lovely were the -young society girls of the chorus arrayed as shepherdesses; -unembarrassed and statuesque was the contralto of the piece, Gloria -Hooper, otherwise Daphnis, the lover, a superb brunette and daughter of -the house; but for the time the sense of the music dominated her; she -was no longer Poppea of the Post-office in whose way stood many fears, -but Sylvaine of the Invincible Charm, whom she was personating. - -Among the familiar faces in the audience, Philip's and Bradish Winslow's -were the only ones that her memory retained as the orchestra finished -the tinkling overture, full of the piping of shepherds, the sound of -cow-bells, and the tripping of dancing feet, and the curtain was drawn -aside. Then in a moment all faces vanished but that of Tostelli, who was -conducting from under the shelter of a thick palm in a tub. He had faith -in her, nor was it misplaced. - -After the first act there was a storm of applause and flowers. In coming -forward to bow, hand in hand with Gloria, her eyes fell upon a figure -standing behind the last row of chairs. It was John Angus, who had -evidently come without knowledge that Poppea was taking part, for the -expression of his face was so blended of surprise, incredulity, anger, -and something else akin to dread, which she could not formulate, that -she was obliged to close her eyes for a second to blot it out, and then -fortunately Sylvaine again absorbed her. - -It was toward the end of the last act that the dance came, and as the -time changed for it, something compelled Poppea, she abandoned the set -steps she had been taught and improvised until the measure ended. Then -the final storm of applause descended upon her. "Brava! brava!" Tostelli -cried. Coming from under his bush, he first shook her by both hands and -then kissed them publicly, saying for her ear alone, "For you the grand -opera is near--very near!" - -Still the applause continued. Tostelli looked at her to see if she could -stand a repetition of the intricate song of the rather artificial scene, -but she shook her head. The revulsion had come; she was no longer -Sylvaine but herself, alone and among strangers but for the face of -Philip, whose eyes hung on her own. - -Stretching out one arm as though to enjoin silence, she stepped forward, -her eyes seeing above and beyond. Then the clear legato notes of _Robin -Adair_ rang forth. - - "What's this dull town to me? Robin's not here!" - -The effect of this sudden transition was marvellous, tears filled eyes -to which they were strangers, and for no reason that their owners could -understand. - -Then Poppea, as soon as she could break away, her arms laden with -flowers, looked for Miss Emmy, her one desire being to get home and be -alone. But Winslow, who was her shadow for the time, told her that Miss -Emmy had heard through some one who had come in from the club, where Dr. -Markam, the Feltons' physician, happened to be spending the evening when -sent for, that Mr. Esterbrook had been taken suddenly ill. Miss Emmy had -at once returned, and would send Nora back in the carriage for Poppea -as soon as possible. - -"Is there any quiet spot where I can wait?" begged Poppea; "I'm so -tired." - -"Yes, at the end of the hall there are chairs among those palms; go -there, and I will bring you some supper, for I'm sure that you are -hungry quite as much as tired." - -For a few moments Poppea waited at the place indicated, then the cooler -air of the improvised passage, which was quite empty, tempted her, and -crowding herself behind one of the curtains with which it was draped, -she found an opening through which she could breathe the air of the -first truly spring night. - -Approaching voices sounded that she recognized as belonging to the three -women who, aside from the Misses Felton, had done the most toward her -establishment--Mrs. Hewlett; her hostess Mrs. Hooper, Gloria's mother; -and a young widow, Hortense Gerard, a favorite cousin of Bradish -Winslow's. - -Fearing that they would insist upon her dancing the cotillon if she made -known her presence, Poppea remained behind the curtain, and they, -evidently in search of air also, seated themselves near by on a low -divan. Presently the sound of her own name made Poppea regret her -action, but it was already too late. - - * * * * * - -_Mrs. Hewlett._ "Well, Miss Gilbert has certainly achieved a great -success; what a social institution she has become in a few months!" - -_The Widow._ "Yes, but she will cease to be as quickly as she has -achieved; the very fact that we have admired her so much this winter is -the reason why no one will want her next." - -_Gloria's mother._ "I'm not so sure of that, Hortense; I only wish that -I could be. I'm afraid she's come to stay, or thinks she has as far as -the men are concerned; they all take her _so_ seriously. My Johnnie had -the folly to say this morning that as soon as he was a senior he should -offer himself, and you know very well that your cousin Bradish won't let -us say a word about her in his presence. Why didn't the Feltons have -better sense than to take her into their family, a less than nobody? It -puts the whole thing upon a semisocial footing: otherwise we need not -have recognized her except by the envelope with the check in it." - -_Mrs. Hewlett._ "I think you are a little hard on her, Charlotte; she's -a very sweet girl and not responsible for her origin, or rather lack of -it, though of course it would be deplorable if she should marry one of -our sons." - -_The Widow._ "_I_ think I'll put it into some rich old rascal's head to -offer to put up for her training abroad for an operatic career: she'll -surely jump at that bait. Possibly even Brad might work himself up to -that extent; in fact, I think it's a case when he would put himself out -to any degree short of matrimony, which proves her dangerous, for if -Brad will go so far, others less seasoned will go the whole ribbon. -She's probably got a lot of magnetic bad blood beneath her baby skin. -Think of her art and craft in dropping into _Robin Adair_ to-night -after that Frenchy rigmarole. Yes, she's got all the born wit of an -adventuress, and she must go before she outwits us." - -_Mrs. Hewlett._ "I had never thought of her in that light, before, but -of course it may be so, and no mother wishes her sons to--" - - * * * * * - -They go on to the ball-room. Poppea clings to the curtain for support, -her hand showing her hiding-place to Winslow, who has come through an -opposite curtain with a plate and a glass of champagne. - -"Drink this!" he said, in a voice that trembled. But Poppea shook her -head. - -"How long have you been here? Ever since those shameless fence cats -came?" - -Another motion of the head, this time in the affirmative. - -"Then you've heard every word they said?" - -"Yes," Poppea's lips managed to say. At the same time pride came to her -rescue; she raised her head and looked him in the face in a way that was -both supplication and a challenge. - -Hastily putting aside the food that he had brought, Winslow threw back -the curtain, and before she could resist, drew her into an anteroom out -of the passageway. - -"Sit down!" he commanded. Poppea dropped into a chair, but still kept -her eyes, now grown dull with despair, upon him; in fact, it seemed -impossible for her to remove them. - -"Don't look at me so, child! I should like to wring every one of their -scrawny necks; only tell me what to do, and I will do it." - -"You can do nothing," were the words formed by Poppea's dry lips, but no -sound came. - -Suddenly stepping toward her and resting one knee on the divan, he began -to speak rapidly in a voice whose vibrant tones were moderated with -difficulty. - -"I can, perhaps, do nothing alone, but _we_, we can do everything. - -"Marry me, Poppea. I love you wholly, finally, and have ever since the -night when I first met you, also on painful ground. But together we will -put away the pain, and you shall trample on those harpies that have -stuck their claws in you. As Bradish Winslow's wife your word will be -law, your position in society unassailable, and my cousin Hortense in -particular will come grovelling to you by to-morrow, afraid of what she -thinks you may know of her. - -"Come to me, child, and let me protect you once for all!" - -Poppea dragged herself slowly to her feet until her face was on a level -with his, her eyes still fastened upon him, but the dulness was gone, -and they blazed with a wild fury akin to delirium, and the color in her -cheeks outdid the rouge that had not been wiped away. - -"There is no one among them all to compare with you!" he whispered, his -voice turning hoarse; so moved was he by her wistful beauty that it -became a pain. - -She did not seem to hear the last words; her anger blazed out and -cooled, and her motions were like those of a somnambulist. She put her -hand to her head as though listening for something that she had -forgotten but yet expected, but the Knight of the Grail and his music -had deserted her. - -"Yes, I will marry you," she said in steady, monotonous voice, wholly -lacking in emotion. - -"Come then, we will go in and announce it to our hostess before the trio -may guess the good--that they have done," and he leaned forward to clasp -her to him, but as she shrank back, one arm before her face, still as -some one who walks in a dream and wards off danger, he merely drew her -hand through his arm, still grasping it. - -"Not to-night, to-morrow! please let me go home!" and at that moment a -man-servant came up to say that Miss Felton's carriage and maid were -waiting for Miss Gilbert. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -NIGHT AND MORNING - - -The picture of the night was in three panels,--that of the morning in -one. - -According to Nora, Mr. Esterbrook had suffered a shock, that indefinite -something that may mean so many things. He had been in the library and -had evidently fallen in crossing the room. Miss Felton had found him and -had sent for two or three doctors, who were now with him; she was -terribly upset, and so the woman babbled on until the house was reached. - -Three coupés were lined up before the door, and the house was lighted -from top to bottom. Poppea judged that the physicians were still in -consultation. - -The cook opened the door, explaining that Caleb was wanted upstairs, and -that Nora was to go at once to Miss Felton. - -On her way to her room Poppea passed through the sitting room and tapped -at Miss Emmy's door, which stood ajar, but there was no answer; the room -was empty, so she continued on her way. - -Turning up the light, she looked about the pretty bedroom, her eyes -lingering on each article it contained. Was it possible that only four -hours had elapsed since she had left it? Yes, the little Dresden clock -was tinkling twelve. - -Flowers from a concert of two days before filled the jars on the -mantel-shelf, then she remembered that all the tributes of that evening -had been forgotten and left behind. Philip had brought her a wicker -basket of daffodils such as later in the season starred the bank garden -below the parapet at home. She hoped that he would not know and be hurt; -as for the rest, what did it matter? - -The night was warm, yet she closed the window, and crouching before the -hearth, lit the symmetrical pile of small logs put there chiefly for -ornament. Stripping off her gay attire and dropping it in a heap on the -floor of the dressing closet, she threw a wrapper about her and again -kneeled before the fire, as though its upward motion was a spell against -the loneliness of the room. As she looked at the curling flames, her -eyes dilated, and a terror that was an absolute pain swept over her: a -strain of music had penetrated the fog that enveloped her brain; it was -the song of the Knight--the Knight of the Grail. - -"Oh, God, what have I done?" she whispered to the fire, "promised to -marry Bradish Winslow, when I have vowed that I would never marry until -_that_ is no longer a mystery. Promised to marry him, not for love, but -to trample on those who were trampling on me. It is true that when I am -with him there is something that makes me wish to stay, but when I am -alone, I want to keep away. There is no one to speak to, no one to ask; -if only I could feel Daddy's hand upon my hair to-night. Ah, little -mother, won't you ask God to help me in some way that I can feel and -understand? To-morrow it will be too late!" - -Clasping the locket to her breast, she crouched lower and lower until -her face almost touched the fire guard. The wood snapped and a live coal -fell upon the carpet. Crushing it out with her slipper, her eye fell -upon something white beside the hearthstone. Picking it up she saw that -it was Hugh's weekly letter that she had read and laid by the clock and -that a draught had wafted to her feet. Holding it between her palms, she -gradually grew calm, and as she looked at it the only recourse opened -before her: she must write to Winslow so that he would receive the -letter when he awoke. - -Going to the secretary with its litter of invitations and complimentary -social notes, she swept them to the floor with a gesture half contempt -and half full of the regret of renunciation. Then having cleared the -shelf, she began to write, slowly as a child pens its copy, giving each -letter a separate stroke and weighing its value. She had need of this -care, for before she had finished, the sheet was wet with tears. - -Quarter of one, tittered the silly little clock. Poppea knew that no -mail would be taken from the pillar at the street corner before six, but -it might be her only chance to get out unobserved. The lights in the -extension, where Mr. Esterbrook's rooms were located, were burning -brightly; now was her chance. Slipping on a long ulster, she went down -without meeting any one, threw off the night latch on the door, and -closed it behind her. Two of the cabs had gone, and the driver of the -one remaining slept upon the box. - -It was but a step to the corner and back, the only live thing that she -encountered being a long-bodied cat which seemed to separate itself from -the shadow of one pair of steps only to be swallowed by another shadow -farther on. Gaining her room once more, she put out the light and threw -herself upon the bed without undressing. - -In the room beyond, which was Miss Felton's, Miss Emmy was pacing to and -fro. The consulting physicians had gone and their own family stand-by, -Dr. Markam, was now coming from Mr. Esterbrook's quarters ushered by -Caleb, Miss Felton remaining behind. - -"Tell me the best and worst," said Miss Emmy, following the doctor down -to the sitting room. - -Dr. Markam looked at her keenly as if to gauge the quality of her -emotion, then said tersely, "The best is that he may be quickly released -by another stroke, the worst that he may live for years partly or wholly -helpless and with clouded mental faculties. Go up and try to persuade -Miss Elizabeth that it is unnecessary for her to remain. She is not used -to illness or misery. Caleb will stay to-night, and the nurse that I -shall send will be here by daylight," and after drinking the glass of -wine that Caleb offered him instinctively, he went out, thinking to -himself how little his old friend Esterbrook had, at the end of life, to -show for the elaborate trouble of his living. - -Thus bidden, Miss Emmy crept softly into the outer room of Mr. -Esterbrook's suite, then, not finding Elizabeth, she went through the -dressing closet to the inner room where a night lamp burned with the -pale rays of moonlight. - -On the bed in the corner she could see the outline of Mr. Esterbrook's -form, still as though he no longer breathed. A second look revealed a -stranger object. Kneeling by the bed in the attitude of passionate -despair, her face buried in the quilt, her hands clasping the rigid one, -was Miss Elizabeth. - -Miss Emmy could not at once take in the details; her natural supposition -was that her sister was ill or had fainted and slipped from the near-by -arm-chair. Going to her she touched her on the shoulder, and in a low -tone gave the doctor's message about the nurse and the sufficiency of -Caleb for the night. - -Suddenly Miss Felton turned, but without moving from her kneeling -posture, and her sister started back, amazed at the entire change in her -face. Haggard and worn, furrowed under the eyes and pinched at the -nostrils, it was a woman of seventy-five, not sixty-four, that looked -up, while the carefully braided hair, always so exact a coronal to the -unbending head, was loosened in a gray, dishevelled mass. Again Miss -Emmy tried to explain the doctor's words. Pulling herself to her feet -with difficulty, Miss Felton clutched her sister by one shoulder, almost -screaming in her ear. - -"I will not go! I will not have a nurse! Caleb will stay with us; Caleb -will be sufficient." Then as Miss Emmy did not move or seem to -understand, she shook her arm. - -"I am going to care for him now, because I love him, have always loved -him, and you, or else your shadow, have always stood between. If he -could have stepped out of it for a month, a week, he would have known. I -thought once that you too loved him and you were my frail little sister, -my charge, and so I repulsed him, suppressed my nature, and kept back. -But you, you called him 'Willy' and played kitten and knitting ball with -him until you tired, until it was too late. Now he will never know; but -if he lives, and I can make him comfortable, he may perhaps realize the -comfort, and through it that I love him. Now go--and leave us together -at last! And if the people talk, tell them that Miss Felton does not -care!" - -Shaken, nay, almost shattered, Miss Emmy dragged herself from the room, -clinging from chair to table like a child who creeps. Of all the -possibilities of life, this that had happened seemed the most -impossible. Elizabeth, the emotionless woman of perfect balance and -judgment! Like a condemned criminal but half conscious of what he is -accused, she groped her way along the hall. She must speak to some one, -it seemed, or lose her mind. - -Poppea had sent a message by Nora that she must be called if needed. -Surely her need was great, so she opened the girl's door and listened -before entering. - -"I am not asleep," said Poppea from the white draped bed, and raising -herself on her elbow, she lit the night lamp on the bed stand. - -"Is he--is Mr. Esterbrook any worse? Is he very sick?" - -"Yes, but being sick is not the worst," and Miss Emmy told Poppea -briefly what her sister now seemed to glory in, willing that the whole -world should know. - -Clasping her arms about the fragile creature, scarcely more than a -bundle of ribbon and lace, Poppea held her close, crying, "Poor Aunty, -dear Aunt Emmy, you are not blamable, neither did _you_ know." - -After a few minutes the girl's human sympathy relaxed the tension, and -freeing herself, Miss Emmy sat down by the bed. - -"What is it, child? You are not yourself to-night, any more than I am. -Were you not well received? Something has happened. What is it?" - -Poppea shivered as she tried to frame a sentence that should be truthful -and yet not reveal, then she said:-- - -"One day you said that I could not keep on for long singing as I had -this winter 'because they will not let you.' Every one was very kind, -but afterward--it chanced to come to me that the women on whom I counted -'will not let me' continue, as you said, so I am going home, -again--to-morrow." - -"That is not all, Poppea." - -"That is all that I shall ever say," she answered with the fixed intent -that always astonished those who for the first time realized her -capacity for firmness. - -"You do not need; I understand. I, too, am going home to the Hill, -Poppea, because they will not let me stay." - -"Oh, Aunty! Aunty!" she cried, "lie down beside me. I'm afraid, afraid -of I don't know what, as I used to be when I slept in the little hooded -cradle and Daddy came and put Mack in beside me and sat and held my -hand." - -Then peace fell gently on Miss Emmy because this young creature needed -her. - - * * * * * - -Bradish Winslow left the Hooper's as soon after Poppea as he might -without having the two departures coupled. Not for the first time in his -life had he been repelled and enraged by the absolute lack of social -sincerity on the part of the group of women who, in their day, were the -cohesive element of society. Yet he never realized the responsibility in -the matter of men of his stamp who condone nearly everything in a woman -so long as she is modish and amusing. Lighting a cigar and leaving his -top-coat open that he might feel the vigor of the night air, Winslow -strolled slowly from Gramercy Park westward to the Loiterers' Club. -Contrary to his usual gregarious habits, he made his way to one of the -least brilliantly lighted retiring-rooms, and ordering some club soda -and Scotch, a kind of whiskey that was considered a marked eccentricity -in the era of Rye and Bourbon, stretched himself on a sofa, hands behind -head, and gave himself up wholly to steadying his nerves. - -An hour later he entered his own bachelor home, a substantial and -conservative house in one of the wide streets that cross lower Fifth -Avenue, a little north of Washington Square. The house was neither his -birthplace nor the home of his childhood, but a legacy from a -great-aunt, the last of the Bradish name. It was twelve years since a -woman other than a caretaker or housemaid had lived in it; the first six -it had remained virtually closed, while during the second half of the -period, Winslow had developed the two first floors as suited the fancy -of a man who entertained elegantly and conservatively, not choosing to -establish a carousing Bohemia at too close range. If he had some or any -of the vices of his class and position, he chose to pursue them away -from his normal surroundings and at his own pace, where at any moment he -might either outdistance them or drop behind without clamor. - -Hence the house, as he entered it with his latch-key, had the subdued -and grave air of any family residence in the same quarter. Turning out -the lights in the lower rooms, he went to his personal suite on the -second floor, lighted some gas-jets in the three rooms, rang for his -man, and gave directions that he was to be wakened at half-past nine, -breakfast in his room, and would under no consideration see any one -before eleven o'clock. Then as the valet, but half awake, stumbled out, -steadying himself by the portières as he drew them to, Winslow gave a -sigh of relief, and flinging himself into a chair before the hearth, as -Poppea had done, he stirred the embers and kindled a fire that was not -for warmth but like summoning a sympathetic yet reticent friend. - -Winslow's feeling during the two hours since he had, as he considered, -rushed to Poppea's rescue was dual; he congratulated himself not a -little that for once in his life he had let himself be swayed by a -generous impulse and his own emotion. Also his curiosity was very -expectant as to the stir that would be made by the announcement of his -engagement to Poppea on the morrow and the consternation it would for -various reasons cause. He could see the pallor come to the unprotected -portion of his cousin Hortense's cheeks as she wondered if "Brad" would -ever tell that baby-faced girl how desperately she had worked to enmesh -him, and how deliberately and cleverly he had forced her to show a -trumpless hand. Then there were others, and the thoughts of them were -here and there tinged with regret. He had never been unscrupulous in his -pleasures; he had simply lived life to the full as he saw it. As he was -in a somewhat exalted and generous mood, why do things by halves? - -Going to a large mahogany secretary in the corner, he unlocked a deep -drawer that was hidden by a panel and took therefrom several bundles of -letters and some photographs; to these he added a picture from a silver -frame on the mantle, of a very charming dark woman, well-groomed and -poised, but with an air of not belonging exactly to his world. He held -the bundle to his chest a moment as he stood looking into the fire; -opening a pit in the middle of the molten coals, he cast the letters -into it, not even glancing at the superscriptions, and only separating -them sufficiently to be sure that they would ignite, sat and watched -them until they were consumed. - -From their ashes came a more natural mood. The house was at best rather -gloomy; how Poppea's coming would brighten it, and her voice echo up and -down those great rooms when she laughed; for he meant that she should -laugh and have no time for tears. The idea was very soothing; he -wondered why he had never seriously contemplated marrying before. - -Jove! but she was beautiful and unusual; he would have a miniature -painted of her in the green muslin with the poppies in her hair. Then he -would take her everywhere that people might envy him her loveliness. - -No, he would not! Formulating the thought brought a sharp revulsion. He -would take her abroad, away from the carpers and fawners alike, where -they two should be alone; for, after all contributing motives, what he -had said was true, he had loved Poppea at first sight, and as far as the -better side of his nature was concerned, he loved her finally. - -What a splendid ring he would buy her to-morrow, no to-day! a ruby held -in a setting of poppy leaves to form the flower. Ah! but she already -held the spell of oblivion over him. He liked to feel this. Of course -they would be married in a month; there was no reason for delay. The old -man Gilbert? That was easily fixed: an annuity as a parting gift from -Poppea and some tears, of course. It would be strange if she did not -show some feeling, and besides, ingratitude was one of the traits he -most detested in a woman. - -So when Winslow at last settled himself in his bed, severe almost as a -hospital cot, that stood in an alcove curtained from the luxurious room -to which it formed a sharp contrast, there was a smile on his lips, and -closing his eyes, he brought his finger-tips together, touched them -fervently, and flung a message into the dark. He well knew how to play -the lover, but it was only this night that he realized what it was to be -entirely in love with some one other than himself. - - * * * * * - -The morning, like the night, was mild, but with the chilly undercurrent -suggestive of sudden rain that divides April from May. The city, always -early to awake in some quarter, now wore its widespread spring -alertness, and the venders of plants in a cheerful burst of bloom added -their cries to the street sounds. - -Looking toward the square for a sign of color in the tree-tops, Poppea -saw a jet of water rising from the fountain that filled the air with -spray through which some birds were flitting. That the fountain was -being set in order showed that the same spring impulse was moving the -city wheels that sent all the little hillside springs rushing madly to -swell the tide of Moosatuck. How she hungered and thirsted for a sight -of it! - - * * * * * - -At half-past nine, precisely to the moment, the time that he had been -directed, Winslow's valet came in, closed the windows, drew the curtains -across the alcove, and after arranging the toilet articles in the ample -bathroom, which was also used as a dressing-closet, went out until the -bell should say that his master wished his breakfast. For accustomed to -luxury as Winslow was in externals, his primitive tastes were direct and -simple and he detested the fuss and servility of bodily service. - -When in half an hour's time, clad in a comfortable bath-gown, he lounged -into the library and rang for his coffee, picking up the letters that -were neatly piled on the desk, so quickly does the mind of man travel to -direct issues, that he was already considering the coming change of -breakfasting in one of the smaller rooms below stairs, and picturing -Poppea, gowned in some filmy draperies, flitting in like one of the -streaks of morning sunshine. As he glanced carelessly at the writing -upon the various envelopes that he might receive a clew as to which, if -any, were worth the trouble of opening on this particular morning, -Poppea's characters fixed his eye. It is true that he had previously -received but two or three brief notes from her, acknowledging flowers or -an invitation, but the writing, full of decision and so opposite from -the girl's almost poetic appearance, was of the type that is called -characteristic and became fixed in the memory. - -So she was moved to write immediately upon getting home, was his first -thought; but instead of hastily tearing the note open, he turned it -slowly and reflectively in one hand as he poured himself a cup of -coffee, then drank it deliberately, and seated himself, before releasing -the letter with a careful stroke of the paper-knife. - -He had vainly tried the whimsical experiment of judging of the contents -by the sense of touch. Everything about his connection with Poppea had -been unusual, hence its added piquancy. Why should he not expect that -its completion should be on the same plane? He almost dreaded the -finding of a gushing and honeyed first love-letter of the newly engaged -girl in her early twenties. - -He read the letter through, then rubbed his eyes, turned the paper to -the light, and read anew. In it was expressed gratitude to him coupled -with self-reproach for allowing a bitter hurt to be revenged even in -thought by the idea of marriage. There was a request for forgiveness, -not for the retracting of a promise so much as for the sense of injury -that had made the promise possible, and then the final statement that -she would never take another's name until she had one of her own to -yield. Piteous as was her agony of mind expressed, not so much in the -words used as in their haste and almost incoherence, Winslow felt -forcibly that the nature that lay beneath had its depths and measures of -pride that his world could not fathom, because it was based upon a -frankness, a fundamental _noblesse oblige_, that could neither be denied -or argued away. A princess Poppea was, though wandering from her -kingdom. - -One thing was evident through it all. She had been doubtless attracted -to him in a way, but she did not love him; her suffering, therefore, was -complicated, but not keenly direct, as more and more every moment he -felt his disappointment to be. Also the wind was taken out of any -fanciful balloon of his self-sacrifice, and it fell collapsed. - -No, she did not love him,--"By God, but she shall!" he cried, bringing -his clenched hand down on the stand with a fervor that dashed the -delicate porcelain cup and saucer to the floor in shivering fragments. -"Life's been getting a sleepy nuisance these two years. What better to -wake me up than to track her origin and find her name? Time, money, and -grip I've got, if luck will only come in and take the fourth hand! - -"What a conquest to remove her fantastic fortress and make her desire my -love at one bound!" - -This was the second time that a man had made this wish; a different man -pitched in a different key. - -This man, like the other, having made a resolution, went on his -accustomed way, which in Winslow's case was to dress with unusual care, -a dark red carnation, the prevailing flower for morning wear, in his -buttonhole. His business affairs calling him down town but three days a -week, he took a leisurely morning walk to the club, where he read the -papers and listened to other news that would never appear in print. On -some one's remarking upon the success that Miss Gilbert had achieved the -previous night, that she had left early on account of Mr. Esterbrook's -sudden illness before all the deserved congratulations had reached her, -and that those who knew her best said that not less than two men of -wealth were ready to back her for the study necessary to an operatic -career, Winslow merely looked up, apparently only mildly interested, and -observed in neutral tones:-- - -"Her voice has operatic capacity doubtless, but I should judge she -lacked the physique. By the way, what is the news of poor old -Esterbrook? A nice outlook ahead of us who grow old as bachelor -dandies, I must say." - -But what he _thought_ was, "The cats have begun to weave their cradle -for Poppea's undoing, and when they find she has gone, they will lay it -to their strategy. Damn them!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -OUT OF THE ASHES - - -Poppea's chief wonder on her return home was in finding everything -precisely as she had left it. A single winter does not witness a very -great change in place or people, but to Poppea, so much having been -crowded into those few months, it seemed as though the children of the -village should have become men and women in her absence. - -By the first of May, Miss Emmy had returned to Quality Hill. Miss Felton -had decided to remain with Mr. Esterbrook in the Madison Square house -for the present, the outlook being pleasant, though the nearness of the -doctor was her first thought. As for Mr. Esterbrook himself, he had -rallied sufficiently to be put in a wheel-chair. His right side was -paralyzed and his speech as yet well-nigh unintelligible, so that his -wants were filled mainly by the intuition of Miss Elizabeth and Caleb. - -In spite of his absence of the previous summer and a report that it was -to be repeated, John Angus had returned to Harley's Mills rather earlier -than usual, and Stephen Latimer, the only one of the people who had -received more than a casual greeting, said that he was looking ill, and -that he had virtually confessed to Latimer that the winter had been a -hard one to him, this being the first time that he had ever mentioned -his health. - -The new venture at the Mills was beginning to see daylight, for Hugh -Oldys's inexperience was offset by the loyalty of the men who surrounded -him. There was much also in connection with the growing plant that -interested Hugh in an altruistic way, and already, in cooperation with -Stephen Latimer, he was establishing relations with his employees and -their families entirely different from those obtaining in the near-by -New England factory towns. - -It was Poppea who felt herself the odd number. Within the limits of a -certain suppression of force, she had always seemed content, and her -quiet, well-directed energy had been the reverse of the restlessness -that now possessed her. She worked at everything with a feverish -intensity wholly new and very disturbing to Oliver Gilbert, whose daily -life had been unconsciously regulated by her impulse. Poppea not only -took charge of the making-up and sorting of the two heaviest mails of -the day, but had undertaken a new and gratuitous task,--the writing of -letters to the old country for those who either could not write at all -or could only pen their names and had no way of pouring out their -feelings to those they had left behind. In addition, she had announced -her intention of doing all the housework herself when Satira Potts -should leave, for although Mrs. Shandy had returned in April from her -visit home, Hugh Oldys's need of a housekeeper had taken her from the -field. - -Jeanne Latimer, who had been appealed to both by Satira Potts and Miss -Emmy as the one most likely to convince Poppea of the foolishness of -such a course, ended by indorsing the girl's resolution, for she felt -the growing tension that the others did not notice, and knew well, from -her own temperament, that only what sometimes would appear to be foolish -activity keeps the nerves elastic and from snapping. - -One day, in talking to Hugh Oldys about the life in the city, when he -had expressed, as far as he ever allowed himself to, the feeling of -being out of the midst of things after having once broken his way in, he -turned the matter quickly by saying to Poppea:-- - -"And you, how did you like the New York life? I do not mean the outside -things, the theatre, music, galleries, and shops, but the inner life -that you led of yourself?" - -As he spoke they were walking down the road from Quality Hill toward the -village and the afternoon sun was sifting through the hilltops that -gradually increased in height as Moosatuck disappeared among them,--a -slender, silvery thread unravelling toward its source. - -For a moment the girl stood looking afar off to where one hill, called -the mountain by the local youths who climbed it, arose above all the -others; presently she said, speaking as of a state of existence where in -passing through she had lost something of herself:-- - -"The life, the real life there in the city? Oh, Hugh! at first it seemed -like being on the mountain where everything is spread before one. You -are very lonely, to be sure, but still, somebody, and then suddenly you -find that you are nothing at all but the wind among the grass that falls -away as night comes!" - -And reading from what she did not say rather than from what she did, -Hugh sighed and then quickened their pace, wondering what would be the -end of it all for both of them. - -That night, or rather morning, the fire signal was given by one of the -factories on the Westboro road, to be repeated the next moment by the -whistle of the Owl Express due to pass at three, and which halted -presently, tolling its bell dismally. Instantly the male portion of the -village was in its boots and trousers and running toward the red light -at the north horizon. This was soon found to come from the railroad -station at Harley's Mills. 'Lisha Potts, who had arrived at the -post-office house with his team the previous evening to take his wife -home the next day, was among the first to reach the building which had -been set on fire at one end of the roof, presumably by a passing train. - -Breaking into the ticket-office to haul out a small safe, and such -express packages as had not been delivered, was the work of a few -moments, while some energetic villagers, with more vigor than -discretion, rushed into the attic and threw from the dormers a lot of -old lanterns, boxes, broken bits of furniture, and like rubbish already -partly on fire, that had been accumulating there ever since the station -was built and antedating the checking system. The lanterns, of course, -were shivered to atoms in transit, while the other smouldering stuff -was promptly seized by the crowd below and dumped into the little brook -that ran along the north side of the track. - -After these efforts, no attempt was made to save the building, for there -was no water-supply, or fire company other than a bucket-brigade, which -was ineffectual against the keen spring wind that was scattering the -brands over the thirsty old shingles. The burning station furnished an -hour's spectacle both for the villagers and the passengers on the Owl -Express which, being on the near track, had to wait; then shrivelled -into a cellar full of ashes crossed by a few charred beams, the fire of -which was soon changed to harmless smoke by the efforts of the -bucket-brigade. The express ceased its tooting, gave one long and two -short whistles, and proceeded on its way; while after the safe and -miscellaneous contents of the express office had been transferred to the -freight-house, the throng turned homeward to snatch a little sleep in -the couple of hours that remained before the working day began. - -'Lisha Potts was so thoroughly awake that it did not seem to him worth -while to go to bed again, especially as he wished to make an early start -for home. Satira, having also been to the fire, was in a bustling mood, -so she prepared some of her famous coffee, and the pair sat down to a -four o'clock pick-up breakfast in the kitchen of the post-office house, -with many cautions of silence interspersed with little jokes and much -chuckling that belonged to a young couple on the verge of eloping rather -than to people of sedate years who were about to take up housekeeping -once more after a winter of partial separation. - -Presently 'Lisha stood in the doorway facing the east, watching the sky -redden until the climax was reached in the coming up of the sun over -Moosatuck, while the swifts wheeling in and out of the stone chimney -behind him were making mimic thunder. He was undecided whether to begin -at once the grooming of his horses or take a stroll along the lane that -indirectly joined the two main roads and get a sniff of the mist-laden -morning air so necessary to those whose life has been of the open. - -Choosing the latter, he had gone but a dozen rods when he met the -station-master, who had come across lots with the direct intention of -hunting him out. It seemed that the mass of smouldering débris cast from -the attic into the brook had bunched together and formed an impromptu -dam, to the extent that the little stream, unusually lusty from the -spring rains, had been diverted from its course to the switch track, -where it was now busily washing the ballast from between the ties. The -station-master's errand was to see if 'Lisha would hook up and cart the -stuff about half a mile farther down the road to where a bottomless -bog-hole conveniently consumed the refuse of the community. - -Armed with a potato-digger by way of a weapon, 'Lisha was soon loading -the sodden stuff into his long wagon, which he chanced to be driving the -night before, when he had come direct from the lumber camp to the -post-office house. - -"Do you reckon there's any of this old stuff that's any good to dry -out?" he asked the station-master, who was standing on the switch track -on the lookout for the milk train. - -"Nope; there's no company property amongst it, only a lot of odds and -ends that's been up there since old Binks's day, and his widder didn't -see value in to move. That little cow-skin trunk I've never seen before; -it must have lain away in the dark pit behind the chimney; it might have -been a sort of a curiosity if it hadn't been scorched and bulged, but as -it is, better dump the whole lot and done with it." - -Not until 'Lisha was unloading the steaming and ill-smelling mass did -the box in question excite his curiosity; then dropping it to the grass, -he finished his task and swept out his wagon before waiting to examine -the trunk. - -The lock had been broken and rusted away, the strap also had -disintegrated, so that all that held it together was a loop of wire. -Jerking the top up disclosed a mass of smoking rags and a few bundles of -scorched papers. The smell of the burned hide with which it was still -partly covered nearly choked 'Lisha as he stooped to finger the -contents. He was about to gather the things together and give the trunk -a mighty toss into the swamp, when a bundle of yellow papers, swelled by -the dampness and heat, squirmed and fell apart, leaving a long envelope, -in fairly good condition, lying face upward. It was merely the sudden -movement of the papers that drew the man's eye toward them, but he -quickly went nearer for a second look, then seized upon the letter with -hands that shook so that the characters danced about like -will-o'-the-wisps before him. Yes, the address was plain enough, a -well-known name, written in a delicate, pointed hand; the sight of it -made his heart beat like a nervous woman's. Turning the letter, he saw -that the large seal on it had never been broken. - -Carefully wiping it on his coat, 'Lisha put it in his pocket and began -to stir the other papers, but very carefully, for the heat and moisture -made it very easy for a careless motion to turn the bundles into pulp. -"To whomsoever's hands these papers may fall," was written across the -wrapper of the most considerable package, while even as 'Lisha read it -moisture altered the writing so that its identity vanished in a blurred -streak. Quickly realizing that unless the papers were carefully dried -and separated their purport would be lost, he tipped the water from the -trunk and closed the lid, saying apparently to Toby the near horse, -after the fashion of a woodsman who talks to his animals:-- - -"There's suthin queer about this trunk, but as I be the hands the papers -have fallen into, I reckon I'll look into them." - -Then, as an impetus akin to an electric spark touched the mists of -conjecture that were gathering in his roomy if not systematically -ordered brain, he jumped fairly off the ground, shouting:-- - -"Great snakes! suppos'n' these here have something to do with the lady -baby! Maybe the box was meant to come along with her; those rags there -look as if they was once baby clothes. But how did them villains that -left her get her switched off from her goods, and why ain't the letter -'dressed to Oliver Gilbert instead of to--My Lord! but this here's a -dilemma with three horns, not the two-horned, ornery kind. - -"If I take 'em to Satiry, she'll be so fussed up she'll worry 'em to -bits before read; if Oliver Gilbert or Poppy gets 'em and I'm on the -wrong track, as I've nothing yet but instinct to prove that I ain't, -it'll pull her heart out with disappointment or maybe give him a stroke, -for strokes comes frequent to folks turned of seventy. If a thing's so -red-hot you can't handle it, there's folks that by nature's meant to do -it for you, and them's the doctor, the lawyer, and the parson. I reckon -in this case the parson's the best, 'cause if the Lord has let down a -bit of his wisdom, discretion, and loving-kindness in a sheet by four -corners in this neighborhood, it's fell on Stephen Latimer. - -"I'll just clip over there by the back way and leave the box and home -again before a soul's awake to spy and whisper; hey, Toby 'n Bill?" - -And the horses, accustomed to respond to his cheerful address and being -keen for breakfast, replied by a doubly shrill whinny. - -It was past six o'clock when 'Lisha drove into the yard of the Rectory. -Latimer had but then returned from the cottage colony at the Mills, -where he had given courage to a young mother on the road of shadows that -seemed doubly lonely in that she would leave her new-born son behind. - -Latimer wore the look of having himself walked in the beyond at day -dawn, and rough 'Lisha, no less than Jeanne, was struck by the -illumination of his face. - -At 'Lisha's whispered surmises concerning the contents of the trunk, he -showed no surprise, but the rapt intensity that surrounded him -increased. - -"Take it to my study," was all he said; and when Jeanne came in a few -minutes later, attracted by the sound of voices, 'Lisha had gone, and -her husband sat looking at the object on the floor, his hands clasped as -though he prayed. - -He read the question in her face, all the more beautiful to him that the -love and care of others had left their life-lines on the cheeks that -were once as round and dimpled as a baby's. Telling the bare facts, he -added: "Something was struggling to make known that this was coming, for -all last night the face of the new-born babe I christened was Poppea's -and the other face that of her mother. The day will come, Jeanne, when -there will no longer be anything unnatural about the happenings that we -call visions and miracles, because the knowledge will have come to us to -understand them." - -Then after breakfasting together in the sweet spring morning, in quiet -confidence, only separated in degree from the other couple who ate at -the post-office house before the dawn, Stephen Latimer lay down to take -some open-eyed rest before examining the trunk. When he began the work, -he cautioned Jeanne to refuse him absolutely to all callers. Then, -provided with blotters, a thin paper-knife, and warm irons, he spread a -sheet upon the study floor and raised the water-soaked lid. - -All through the morning he worked, separating and drying. At noon, when -Jeanne opened the door, he did not turn his head, and setting the tray -of luncheon where he could see it, she closed the door again without -speaking. When supper-time came and she again entered, the papers were -arranged upon his desk in tidy piles, and he was reading. He stretched -his hand out for the cup of tea she held and still kept at his task. - -It was after eight o'clock when he called her, and white and exhausted -as he looked, she saw at once that he had reached some definite -conclusion. Begging him to take at least a bowl of soup, he assented, -and then drew her to him on the seat before the open window. Holding her -hand as if the tender grasp of it would focus and harmonize his -thoughts, he sat a moment silent, as though he had lost the gift of -words. - -"Was Poppea's secret hid among those papers?" Jeanne finally asked, -unable to restrain her curiosity any longer. "And if it was, do tell me -quickly and simply who she is, and then the why of it after. You don't -realize, Stevie, what the strain of this long day has been upon a -woman." - -"It can be told quickly, but for the rest it's not a simple matter," -replied Stephen, trying with his tired brain to sort his ideas and put -them in sequence. "The papers in this trunk are various family letters, -the certificate of Poppea's birth and baptism and some of her mother's -diaries--" - -"Yes, yes! but _who_ was her mother?" cried Jeanne, the uncontrollable -impetuosity of youth returning to her, so that she rose to a kneeling -position on the window-seat and almost shook her husband, so vigorously -did she grasp his shoulder. - -"Helen Dudleigh, John Angus's first wife; she whom Gilbert calls 'the -little roseleaf.'" - -"Helen Dudleigh!" Jeanne repeated in an indrawn voice. "Then Poppea can -have no legal father, because John Angus's first wife merely left him -and there was never a divorce. Perhaps this was the reason for her -going, you know none was ever given; but no one ever dreamed that any -fault lay with her." - -"Yes, it was the reason of her going, yet no one need ever dream of -legal wrong, for John Angus himself is Poppea's father." - -Jeanne fell back, and then, after searching her husband's face and -reading there that he was speaking the unmetaphorical truth, she drew a -low chair to where she might continue to look at him and whispered:-- - -"Go on!" - -"There is much detail among those papers that belongs to Poppea alone, -but this is the brief story that I have drawn from them. - -"Over thirty years ago, John Angus was travelling on the continent when, -at the same hotel where he was stopping, he met an English artist, -Walter Dudleigh, who was staying there, both on account of his health, -and because his young daughter Helen was studying singing. - -"Dudleigh was a widower of good birth but of frail health and uncertain -means. That Angus was at once struck by the girl's delicate beauty--she -was then only eighteen--some of these letters prove, and after hearing -her sing at a fête of flowers given by the conservatory, in which she -took the part of a poppy, he proposed to her, or rather to her father -for her. The artist, knowing that he had only a short life before him -and no one with whom to leave his child, urged on the match, and as a -wedding gift to his son-in-law, painted a miniature of Helen as she had -appeared at the fête with the poppies in her hair, having the fanciful -name of Poppea engraved in the locket with the date. - -"This is, of course, the miniature that hung about Poppea's neck when -she was found. - -"Dudleigh died of hemorrhage of the lungs almost before the honeymoon -was over, leaving the girl an unexpected two thousand pounds that came -from her mother, and Angus soon after returned to this country with his -girl wife. - -"From the first she seems to have had a hard time of it. An emotional -child with an artistic temperament, thrown not only among strange people -and customs, but married to a man who always commanded and never -explained, and who considered that implicit affection, if it might be so -called, was her legal duty, a sort of commercial article that he had -bought, and nothing to be either won or kept by consideration or -tenderness. She, chilled and lonely, evidently did not make the marked -social success he desired, and his constant reproach was that she bore -him no children, for John Angus seems to have had an exaggerated idea of -the political importance of founding a family, so often held by those -of no especial ancestry. - -"Ten years wore away, and Helen Angus, still under thirty, had faded to -the timorous, trembling shadow that we knew, when one summer, the love -of youth and life taking a final flicker, in John Angus's absence she -came out of her seclusion and took part in some of the Feltons' -entertainments, and renewed her habit of going to church, which had -dropped away. At this time it chanced that Mr. Esterbrook's nephew, a -young army officer, met her, danced with her, and showed her some -courtesies, but no more than any woman might receive. Nevertheless, on -his return, Angus upbraided her for going out, and upon her maintaining -her own defence for the first time in many years, he struck her -furiously and left the house, not returning for more than a week. - -"During this period of outraged feeling and humiliation, she discovered -that at last a child was to be born to her, and resolving that John -Angus should not have it in his power to torture another human being as -he had herself, she determined to go away, leaving a letter saying that -the price of her silence concerning his treatment culminating in the -blow was that he should not try to find her. Public censure on his -private conduct was not what was desired by Angus in his prayer-meeting -and political purity pose, so he seems to have heeded her request. - -"Helen Angus went directly to the little village in Hampshire on the -Isle of Wight where she had spent her childhood and sought out Betty -Randal, a woman of fifty, who had also been her nurse and managed their -little household prior to her father's going abroad. With Betty she -arranged not only to care for her during the coming crisis, but if a -daughter should be born, to keep her as long as her little sum of money -lasted and to teach her to earn her living and thus make it possible for -her to be free from her father if she so desired on learning her -mother's story. - -"A girl was born and duly baptized Helen Dudleigh, by the rector of St. -Boniface's near Bonchurch, and the mother, worn out by contending -emotions more than disease, lived to see her daughter three months old, -and then was laid away, according to a death notice in a Hampshire -paper. This notice was in an envelope lettered by an illiterate hand and -is dated two weeks after the last record in Helen Angus's diary. That -she knew that she could not live is certain, for all the written -evidence was carefully prepared and the writing is decipherable in spite -of time and the blur of moisture. - -"One package contains Helen Angus's marriage certificate and the -certificate of Poppea's birth and baptism; another her diaries and some -letters marked, 'Not to be read by my daughter until she is either -eighteen or forced to return to her father.' And then a single thick -letter (the one that had attracted 'Lisha Potts), sealed and addressed -to John Angus, and underneath in brackets the words, 'To be delivered in -case he should dispute my daughter's paternity.'" - -As Latimer paused to wipe away the drops of sweat that stood upon his -forehead, he laid the letter on the table beside his wife and both -looked at the yellow paper and blurred writing with a feeling of awe at -the living evidence of the poor little roseleaf, wife who, beneath their -very eyes, had suffered so much in silence and then as silently gone -away to die. Hot tears trickled between the fingers that Jeanne held -before her face, but after the relief they brought, questions again -formed themselves. - -"But how did the child come here so soon and why was she left at Oliver -Gilbert's instead of the Angus house?" asked Jeanne, "and how could the -little trunk have been hidden away so long?" - -"The last question might be easily answered," said Stephen. "It was left -in the height of the excited war times when the checking of baggage was -not as rigid as it is now. In fact, merely the name of the village may -have been on the box, which was put aside until called for and presently -forgotten." - -"As to how Poppea came here, was separated from her possessions, and -left at the wrong door, there we have another and unsolved mystery that -must be learned from the man who left her, the man with the scar on his -hand." - -"Was it the wrong door after all, Stephen? Has she not been protected -and loved as her mother would have wished until she knows what love is, -even if she has suffered in a lesser way?" - -"Yes, Jeanne, in one way; but do you realize, at the same time, in what -a light she has learned to regard her father, and that a knowledge of -his unrelenting spite is almost a part of her being? In all this is her -mother justified, but how inextricably it complicates the future and -its relations to every one concerned." - -"How and when shall you tell her, Stephen? To-night?" - -"No, I am much too worn. I will write her a brief note at once, saying -that papers have come to me concerning the identity of her parents, and -asking her to come here at once. She will get the note in the morning -mail and be able to accustom herself to the contents without the effort -of speech." - -"Why do you not go to her?" - -"Because Poppea will need to be alone with her mother's papers for a -space. It would be too trying if she should hear it first amid the -confusion at the office or in the company of any one, even of Oliver -Gilbert." - -"Is it not strange, Stephen, that 'Lisha Potts, who was the first to -open the door that night, should have been the one to bring this all -about?" - -"Yes, Jeanne, more than strange; we seem to be floating in mystery. No, -I cannot sleep yet; I must let the organ speak to me. Come into the -church for a little while, dearest, and sit beside me while I play." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -DADDY! - - -Early in the afternoon of the day after the fire, as Stephen Latimer sat -writing in his study, a shadow that did not shift fell across his paper. -Glancing up, he saw Poppea, who, coming in the door behind, stood -looking at him as intently as though she would force him to yield up his -thoughts without the medium of words. Latimer, who knew that it would be -a trying interview, sought vainly to gauge her mood by the expression of -her face. When he thought, by the wistful lines of the mouth, that -tenderness was uppermost, the calm and searching look from her eyes -revealed indomitable pride, the trait of her later development. - -"Will you stay here?" he said, trying to gain time and turning Jeanne's -special low chair with its back to the bright light, "or would you -rather go down into the sitting room?" - -"Here, if you please," she replied, yet making no move toward the chair. -Then, as he sat fumbling with the papers, she took two or three steps -forward so that she could steady herself by resting her hands on the -table. - -"Please do not try to be ceremoniously polite, nor look away from me. I -know that you have something to tell me that you think I shall not like -to hear, perhaps cannot bear. Be it so, but remember you are making it -less hard by telling me yourself. Now you must speak at once, for I -think if this uncertainty lasts another hour, my heart will stop through -dread." - -Latimer stood up and faced her, moistening his lips the while, as if -trying to grip his words. - -"It is mainly good news, not bad, dear child," he said at last. "It is -the uncertainty of how best to begin coupled with fatigue of nerves that -makes me hesitate. Perhaps you would better read the papers -first"--pointing to the packages on the table. - -"Where did you get them?" - -Latimer told her as briefly as might be. - -"No, I cannot read them until I _know_; the printed words would prolong -that,--my brain is already on fire, I think. If I question, will you -answer, Mr. Latimer?" - -"Yes," and he pointed once more to the chair, feeling that he himself -had not strength to stand. - -Poppea, always alert to the needs of others, realized this and seated -herself, grasping the arms of the chair with a tension that made the -blood settle about her finger nails. - -"You know who my parents are?" - -"Yes." - -"Were they married?" - -"Yes." - -"Are they living?" - -"Your mother is not." - -"I think that I knew that; _she_ would not have left me on a doorstep. -Is the miniature in the locket my mother's portrait?" - -"Your mother at nineteen." - -"Ah, then, at least, I need not give up that idea! I have been telling -her so many things these last years that I could not let her cast me -off, and I could not leave her," Poppea murmured, looking over Latimer's -head out through the open door. - -"Would you not better read these papers now?" Latimer almost pleaded. He -had been at many death-beds, and had once walked beside a murderer to -the gallows without flinching, exalted by his calling, and able to -impart his confidence to others; now not only were his sympathies worked -to their highest pitch, but there was a complicated moral aspect about -the case that might at any moment be turned at him in a way to render -him speechless. - -"Only one more question before I touch the papers," and Poppea crossed -the room and again stood by the table facing the clergyman. - -"_Who_ was my mother?" - -Now that the moment had come, Latimer's perturbation vanished, and -rising and resting his hands also upon the table, he faced her, holding -her eyes by the firmness of his own. - -"Your mother was Helen Dudleigh, the first wife of John Angus." - -For a moment Poppea did not speak; she was communing with memory; when -she did, the voice was but an echo of her own. - -"Helen Angus, the roseleaf wife that Daddy has often told me about, who -went away alone and died far off; who stopped to speak to him at the -shop and have her watch fixed when she was leaving. I wonder if Daddy -has not dreamed of this, for he has told me of her over and over again." - -Then Poppea's wistful expression changed to one of new uncertainty. "But -how can that be, Mr. Latimer? The roseleaf wife never was divorced from -John Angus, Daddy says, and so she could not have been married to my -father. Was he mistaken, or are you?" - -"Neither of us, my child; do you not understand?" - -Putting one hand to her forehead, she thought with knitted brows, then -gave a sharp cry and started back. - -"You don't mean--you can't mean me to think that John Angus is my -father! No, God couldn't be so cruel to Daddy and to me. Anything, any -one but that man! I would rather have never known at all or have had my -mother alone and closed my eyes to all the rest." - -"Think what you say, Poppea!" - -"It is because I am thinking that I say it; I would rather for myself -alone have been born outside of what is called wedlock; it would have -been more natural and less horrible!" - -"But it is not for yourself alone, remember that. If the end lay with -ourselves and we could bear all the penalty, there would be many a law -that every one of us in our time would push aside or shatter. But we are -of the race on whom the charge is laid, _Thou shalt not!_ and when we -throw it off, the next in line, who has not felt the pressure of our -motive, bears the penalty." - -"I am the next and the end, and if I had to suffer, it would be alone." - -"Read, little one; read the papers and think awhile in quiet. Then sleep -on it; to-morrow you may feel differently." - -"To-morrow? There is no to-morrow to hate. You yourself told me years -ago that love is the only thing that owns to-morrow." - -For a moment Latimer winced, but only for a moment. - -"Yes, and love will make the to-morrow yours, the love of your brother -Philip!" - -"Philip--he? Philip, my brother! Oh, God, have mercy and forgive me. I -had not thought of him," and Poppea crouched by the table, burying her -face in her hands. - -Quietly and firmly Stephen Latimer raised her. Leading her to his chair, -he pointed again to the papers; then, saying, "Jeanne and I will be in -the room below; if you wish either of us, knock on the floor," he left -the room, closing the door behind him. - -At intervals during the afternoon there was a sound of rapid footsteps -overhead, as though Poppea was pacing the floor, but all else was -silent. It was almost supper-time when they heard steps upon the stairs, -and Poppea came slowly into the sitting room, the papers gathered into a -bundle in her arms. - -Jeanne went to her, clasped her arms about her neck and kissed her; she -then slipped out, saying she would hurry tea and that Poppea must stay -to take the meal with them. - -When Poppea, having wrapped her bundle in the light shawl she had -brought, came toward him, Latimer was again surprised at the change in -her whole bearing. Passion and tension had alike disappeared from her -face, and though she was pale and her eyelids showed traces of tears, -the eyes were clear and calm. When she spoke, there was no uncertainty -or vacillation in her tone, but a quiet resolve that seemed as though it -should have come through the experience and self-control of years -instead of a single afternoon. - -"Jeanne is very good, but I think I would best go home now; there are -several things that I must do to-night." - -"What are they, Poppea? I should think that you would need to rest first -of all. Stay with us now, and after supper we will walk home with you." - -"If you will do that, I will wait, for then you will stop and tell it -all to Daddy while I do--the other thing. Oh nothing, nothing you could -do would help more than telling Daddy, Mr. Latimer, for I think it will -be easier for him as it was for me to hear it from you. I only wish this -had not happened while he is here, now he _must_ know; yet after all, -what he _thinks_ will be the only difference it can make." - -"What is the other thing, my child, that you must do to-night?" Latimer -persisted. - -"Go up to see John Angus and show him these," and from her loose blouse -she pulled three papers, the certificate of her birth, baptism, and the -sealed letter. - -"But, Poppea, you must not do this yourself; suppose he will not listen, -does not believe, or, possibly, in his bewilderment, should say -something hard for you to bear and impossible for you to forget." - -"He has already done that more than once." - -"Be reasonable, my child; this is a matter for a lawyer, who will take -the case from its legal aspect only and see to it that your claims are -publicly maintained." - -"My mother did not have a lawyer when she went away; she made no public -claims, neither shall I." - -"Then let me go to Angus as your friend, or else Hugh Oldys, who would -be both friend and lawyer; you cannot possibly realize the position in -which you may place yourself or, for that matter, place us all, through -your suffering." - -"I do not mean to be wilful, but this that I must do to-night and what I -have to ask concerns only we three,--my mother, Philip, and myself,--so -I must go alone; a half hour will be more than enough, and there will be -no trouble. Will you not also tell Miss Emmy and Hugh? He has tried so -hard in every way to find out what this fire has made known, purely for -my sake, because he knew how much it meant to me, not that he cared. I -want him to know before any one else but Daddy, and I hope--I pray that -he will be _very_ glad," and a look crossed Poppea's face that she did -not know was there, but Latimer saw it, and his heart sank as he -replied:-- - -"In these dark days Hugh Oldys keeps both joy (of which he has little) -and sorrow to himself, as if the sharing of either might divert him from -his fixed purpose concerning his mother." - -Then Stephen Latimer ceased urging and they went to the supper table, -all three creating talk merely to avoid the strain of silence. - -It was a little past eight o'clock, the hour for closing, when Poppea -and Stephen Latimer reached the post-office; the only light other than -from the street lantern came from Oliver Gilbert's workshop. Going -softly to the farther window, Poppea looked in, beckoning Latimer to -follow her. - -Gilbert sat at his desk, with all his little relics spread before him, -the daguerreotype of Mary, a little black paper profile of Marygold, the -shoes Poppea had first worn, and various photographs of her, from one -taken at the county fair in company with Hugh Oldys, to the rather -dramatic picture by Sarony in her first concert gown. Then putting these -back into their drawer, he drew out the old ledger, read his Lincoln -letters through, touching them lovingly. After putting these also away, -he crossed the room to the work bench, lighted both lamps, and, in spite -of the sultriness of the evening, began to work, now and then glancing -first at the clock and then at the door, with a sigh. - -"I wonder of what he is thinking," said Poppea. "Please go in, Mr. -Latimer, and tell him that I am coming very soon. If I should go to him -now, even for a minute, I should stay and these papers would be burned," -and Poppea pressed her hand to her bosom as if to brace herself by the -knowledge of what she carried. - -"No, do not come with me, it is only a step up the hill and the moon is -rising." So saying, Poppea turned the corner of the post-office and went -up the hill road. - -When she reached the massive gate, she paused before she laid her hand -upon the latch, which, in all these years of proximity, she had never -before touched. It yielded easily, and she found herself walking toward -the house, guided on her way by the long beds of heavily scented -hyacinth and narcissus that outlined the path. - -A bronze lamp hung in the porch, the front door stood partly open, and -Poppea could see lights in the long hall beyond. She was surprised at -her own calmness. When she pulled the bell that jangled sharply through -the great rooms, she felt no less at ease than if she had rung at the -Feltons' door. - -The butler, who answered the summons, was the one to evince surprise, or -perhaps dismay is the apter term, for the feud as it was regarded -between the great house and the post-office was well known below stairs, -and of course mightily exaggerated in its details. - -Poppea said very quietly, "Please ask if Mr. John Angus can see Miss -Gilbert on business." - -The butler, however, wishing to take no risks, motioned Poppea to follow -him, and throwing open the door of one of the rooms on the left of the -long hall, announced in ringing tones, "Miss Gilbert to see Mr. Angus on -business!" then promptly disappeared down the corridor only to slip back -into the adjoining room where he could be a party to what was, to his -mind, an occasion where anything including murder might happen. - -As Poppea advanced into the room which was John Angus's library, he -arose slowly from one of the deep chairs in which he had been half -dozing, half reading. For a minute she thought that he had not heard her -name. - -John Angus, whatever his feelings might be, always kept up at least the -external traditions of courtesy in the ceremonious rooms of his own -house. Coming forward, but without asking her to be seated, in coldly -civil tones he asked her what he could do for her, at the same time -trying to gain an advantage by guessing her errand. Had she, possibly, -laid to him the scheme of consolidating the two post-offices under a new -name? Was she come to either beg or offer quarter in the shape of the -original bit of land he coveted? Or, the feeling of apprehension that -had come over him the night that he had seen her personate Sylvaine -returned with redoubled force, but he pushed it aside as being too -improbable. - -Seeing that she was looking at him fixedly and did not reply, he -repeated the question, motioning carelessly to a chair as he did so. - -Poppea remained standing, and drawing two of the papers from her dress, -she held them towards him, saying, "Read those." - -There was no insolence in her words or manner, but there was that -quality in her that precluded any idea of refusal. Without even feeling -surprised, he took the papers and carrying them to his reading lamp, -unfolded them deliberately. - -The minutes passed slowly; when perhaps five had elapsed, he turned an -ashy face toward Poppea, and asked curtly:-- - -"Where did you obtain these papers, and how long have you had them?" - -Poppea answered with equal brevity, then there was another pause. - -"Have you any other proof of this claim that you are making?" Angus -asked, his hand shaking so that he laid the papers on the table with -difficulty. - -"I am making no claim for myself; I am merely acting for my mother," she -replied, never taking her eyes from his face. "As to further proof, I -have this letter that my mother left for you, should you raise the -question." - -Angus took the letter in his hand, saw the address in the characteristic -writing of his first wife, and the words below in the corner. Crushing -the envelope in an effort not to drop it, he said quickly:-- - -"I did not say that I disputed your claim to be the daughter of Helen -Dudleigh, for you resemble her very closely, now that I see you for the -first time face to face." - -"Ah! you see it then; was that why you left the room so suddenly the -night that I sang in the dress of the miniature?" - -"Yes, it was," replied Angus, amazed at his direct answer, yet unable to -hold it back. - -"If it is not that but the other part that is in dispute, then you -_must_ read the letter!" - -John Angus looked at her, then at the envelope, an angry flash in his -eyes, the color surging back to his face until it was suffused with a -deep, veiny red. - -"And if I do not choose to read it? if I prefer to set a match to it, -instead of troubling myself with what might be the clever scheme of -an--" here Angus paused as though he were conscious of being swept -farther than he cared or dared to go. - -"Adventuress," said Poppea, "the same name that you gave me a year ago -in your complaint to the government about the post-office." Angus's eyes -dropped before the unexpected accusation, and Poppea continued:-- - -"You are perfectly at liberty to burn the letter, but you will not until -you have read it, because you are more anxious to know its contents than -to justify my mother or me." - -It is always the unexpected that subdues a man of John Angus's fibre, -who lives by carefully made and guarded plans and prides himself on the -fact of never changing his mind, and Poppea's quiet persistence, void of -either impertinence, threat, or beseeching, was the last thing he had -ever dreamed of encountering. Slowly he broke open the seal and -envelope, having some difficulty in unfolding the single sheet that it -contained, as the moistened ink had become sticky and in drying had left -an offset that made the letter difficult to decipher. As he read he -turned toward the light and Poppea could not see his face, but after he -had refolded the paper and put it in his pocket, he continued sitting in -the same position until, the silence becoming more than she could bear, -she closed her eyes and tried to call up the picture of Daddy poring -over his little relics at his desk in the shop, to give her relief. - -When a slight noise caused her to open them, Angus was standing before -her, his breath coming spasmodically, the drawn look having again driven -the color from his face. - -"What do you wish?" he asked abruptly. Poppea knew then that a more -complete verbal explanation was unnecessary. In that brief sentence and -its intonation lay the acknowledgment that she sought, while, at the -same time, her comprehension of his moods, in spite of her dislike of -the man, proved the bond of fundamental relationship. - -"What do you wish?" he repeated. - -"That you shall tell Philip what I _am_ as decidedly as you once told -him--what I was _not_." - -If it had been possible for Angus to be abashed, one might have said -that he was so now. In the suddenness of it all this phase had not -occurred to him, but his dominant will soon overcame what he put down to -the momentary physical weakness that had overcome him many times during -the past year, and he said, with his old air of conferring a favor:-- - -"I will explain to my son to-morrow. I mean when do you wish to come--" -(he was about to say home, and then the hollowness of the term even to -his comprehension changed the words) "up here to live?" - -Ignoring the second part of the sentence wholly, Poppea repeated:-- - -"Philip must know now, to-night. Suppose for one of the three to-morrow -should not come? I hear him on the stairs. Will you not call him in?" - -There was something in Poppea's suppressed passion that froze John Angus -and caused his faculties to work more slowly than their wont. As he -hesitated, trying to frame some moderate and dignified phrase, Poppea, -unable to stand the strain of being alone with him any longer, finding -her self-control vanishing and rash words pressing at her very lips, -called:-- - -"Philip, Philip, come here to the library--It is I--Poppea!" - -The slow steps quickened at the unexpected cry, and pushing the -door open so vigorously that it crashed back against a piece of -furniture, Philip came in--glanced at Poppea and his father both -standing--remembered the latter's fury on the day that he had broken the -plaster bust. Straightway going to Poppea, he threw one arm about her, -and then turning, said:-- - -"What are you saying to her, Father? Why did she call me as if she were -afraid?" - -With the air of one to whom Philip's coming was at precisely the desired -moment, Angus replied, "She called you that I might tell you that she is -your half-sister, Philip; the daughter of my first wife." - -All at once Poppea was kneeling beside Philip, her arms tight about him, -whispering, "I called you because I need you, shall always need you to -help me to bear this." - -Looking down into her upturned face, an almost holy light came into -Philip's eyes as he repeated softly, "Sister? You are my sister? Then -that is what it means that I have been feeling for you all these years. -Oh, sister! _I_ need _you_; I have always needed you to help me bear to -_live_." In that young face with all its artistic capacity for intense -joy as well as suffering there was stamped already the knowledge that in -such affection alone could he find place, that the barrier of his -infirmity stood forever between him and the other love of woman. - -As they spoke thus together John Angus waited for a moment, considering -them critically. Noticing the little blemish on Poppea's ear, he -involuntarily raised his hand to his own ear bearing the same mark. - -Poppea had all the first fresh beauty of his wife Helen, that after the -days of courtship he had thought to possess forever by mere force of -will and legal right; but in Poppea he saw much of the strength of his -own resolution with this, to him, incomprehensible cross,--Poppea knew -what love meant, but Angus understood only the power of ambition and -authority. There she was, his daughter, yet only the unwilling kin of -flesh, always to be a stranger in spirit. Then as he saw that the two -had forgotten his presence, he left the room to seek his own chamber and -pace up and down in a half-physical attempt to readjust himself to the -circumstances that had overtaken him. - -After all, he argued, thanks to the Feltons, his daughter was an -accomplished woman with many friends. At last he would have some one to -make his house a social centre, and probably she would after a time -make a brilliant marriage. He had heard that Bradish Winslow had -admired her--there would now be no reason on his part why he might not -follow the game to a suitable finish. Toward Oliver Gilbert, however, -his old-time resentment, instead of diminishing, was increased. How was -it that this humble man always managed to come between? How utterly -abominable to be obliged to assume an attitude of obligation! - -Had his wife Helen directed in the case of her death that the child be -left with Gilbert as a sort of spite to himself? Or was it a mistake and -the intention been to leave her at his house on Windy Hill? - -In either case he held Gilbert to blame, for he, in his comparative -poverty, had supported the child and naturally (from Angus's standpoint) -would expect recompense, while the very act had deprived Angus of -rearing his own child. In this way he worked himself into a commendable -fit of righteous indignation, entirely forgetting that had Poppea been -left at his door, without the subsequent evidence, he would have been -the first, on principle, to have sent her to the town farm. - - * * * * * - -As Poppea made her way up the hill, Stephen Latimer opened the door of -Oliver Gilbert's workshop. Gilbert put down the bit of work at which he -had been tinkering, and leaning back, hands behind head, prepared to -enjoy a comfortable dish of talk with the dominie, who could always move -satisfactorily from books and the political outlook to farming and -local news, without either exertion to himself or condescension toward -the listener, and then, first and last, he was always ready to speak of -Poppea. - -After delivering the girl's message that she would soon return, the -consolidation of the two towns under the name of West Harbor, now -practically an accomplished fact, was discussed, then the burning of the -railway station naturally followed. - -"Has 'Lisha Potts been in to-day?" Latimer inquired. - -"No, but he'll be down to-morrow; Satiry insists that she's coming to -bake us up once a week or so. Poppy don't want it, but I must look to it -she don't overdo her strength; you see she isn't in body one of our -hard-working race, Mr. Latimer. I sort of think her mother was a rather -delicate woman." - -With this for the entering wedge, Mr. Latimer saw his way to going -farther. - -"Then you have some idea about her mother? I have thought this for some -time. I have an idea also, more than an idea; suppose we compare them," -and he told briefly of the trunk of papers and 'Lisha finding them. - -Instantly Gilbert's bent shoulders straightened, new life came to his -eyes; leaning forward he sat in an attitude of such expectant certainty -of what he was to hear that Latimer could not help smiling as he said, -"Poppea's mother was--" - -"Helen Angus, little Roseleaf, wife of that man who drove her to do what -she did!" broke in Gilbert, unable to hold his conviction any longer. -"No one who knew her could blame her,--I, who know what Angus is and -was, least of all. Young Esterbrook was a dashing, taking blade, like -many an army man, not steady like his uncle. I kept track of him for -years one way or another; he never married, and was killed in Indian -warfare near Cheyenne, so he would never have turned up; and yet, of -course before the world this will be a blight upon Poppea. I wish 'Lisha -Potts had dropped the papers in the bog; I wish to God he had, Mr. -Latimer! Could you find it right in your conscience to burn the papers -and let the past be buried? Need _she_ know?" - -"She knows already, Gilbert." - -The old man groaned and struck his clenched hand on the table. "Ah, -well," he said, "that takes it from my hands and the temptation with it, -but it's hard, right hard, to feel, link by link, that my power to -protect her from trouble is going. But," as an idea made him brighten -again, "she can keep my name, can't she, dominie? It's hers, isn't it, -by law?" - -"Yes, Gilbert, it is hers for good unless she chooses to renounce it," -Latimer replied fervently. "But stop a minute, old friend, -think--suppose that young Esterbrook was _not_ Poppea's father, and that -the only wrong (though it was a virtue, not a fault) that Helen Angus -did was in preferring to have her child born away from the atmosphere of -tyranny that was crushing out her own life. Could you be glad? Not for -yourself, not for ourselves, but for the law's full measure?" - -For a while Gilbert sat so absolutely motionless that Latimer began to -fear that he was suffering some sort of shock, while it was merely the -slowness of his comprehension of what had never before occurred to him -ever so remotely. A moment later, he started up with blazing eyes and -all the fury of a madman. - -"That! that! Oh, my God! Then he can take her from me in my old age, -from me who have reared her. He can take her, but he cannot love her as -I have nor make her love him! I withheld the bit of land, my birthright, -that he coveted, and this is my punishment! - -"Pray and pray quickly, dominie; it isn't the dying of the body that -must soon come that I fear; no, nor even the craziness that is reaching -out after me. I'm losing my hold on believing! It's all slipping and -slipping until I'm going down out of sight of Mary and little Marygold. -Help me! Stephen Latimer, help me keep my faith! Not in the everyday -prayers from books or Bible; I want something nearer, something said by -some one that has lived and suffered in the times that I have! - -"There on that card that hangs under his picture--He knew,--he suffered. -I've pieced his words together for my need, and said them every day and -night these many years. Now all is a blank, I can't remember them," and -Gilbert fell upon his knees, his head covered by his arms, strangled -with sobs. - -Following where Gilbert pointed, Latimer saw an old calendar card -hanging below Lincoln's portrait. Seizing it, he found on the reverse -side Gilbert's crooked writing, and straightway kneeling beside him, one -arm about his shoulders, he read this prayer:-- - -"'Keep us free from giving offence, O Lord; neither let us be slandered -from our duty by false accusations against us, nor frightened from it by -menaces of destruction. Let us have faith that right makes might, and in -that faith let us do our duty as we understand it to the end.' - -"'Both of us read the same Bible and pray to the same God. Each invokes -His aid against the other. The prayers of both cannot be answered--Thine -it is to choose between us. - -"'Thou hast Thine own purposes. Woe unto the world because of offences, -for it must needs be that offences come, but woe unto that man by whom -the offence cometh." Through Thine aid keep us with malice toward none, -with charity for all, with firmness in the right as it is given us to -see the right; let us strive on to finish the work and to do justly, -love mercy, and walk humbly with Thee, O God, for the sake of Him who -suffered to teach us how to bear suffering.'" - -After Latimer's voice ceased, there was again a long silence, as if each -man prayed alone. Then Gilbert pulled himself slowly to his chair, and -with hands clasped upon his knees to hide their trembling, he said -clearly, as if reading his own death sentence over in order to become -used to the sound of it:-- - -"I must not forget! She will go to her own home and father upon the -hill--" - -"Daddy!" came the cry from the open door. A rush across the room and -Poppea was clinging to the old man, laughing and sobbing at the same -time. - -"Daddy! dear Daddy! Don't you know that this is my home, and that you -are my father, just as God is, because we love each other?" - -Then it was Stephen Latimer's turn to steal away and turn his footsteps -to where Jeanne was waiting with anxious eyes, straining to see through -the dark. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE SCAR ON THE HAND - - -Stephen Latimer, as soon as might be, communicated with the few people -that Poppea considered had a right to know of the solving of the mystery -of the name, and these were the Felton ladies, Satira and 'Lisha Potts, -and Hugh Oldys. He wrote the details to Miss Felton and 'Lisha, but -called upon Miss Emmy and Hugh the same evening. - -If there is aught in the saying that bad news spreads like fire in dry -grass, while good news requires three kindlings, then the news -concerning Poppea must have been considered very bad indeed. Owing -probably to the eavesdropping of the butler, accounts more or less -garbled appeared within two days, not only in the local and county -papers, but in the New York journals as well. It was only in the latter, -however, that anything was attempted like writing up the matter as a -streak of good luck, upon which the heroine, as Poppea was called, was -to be congratulated; one paper adding optimistically that she would, the -coming season, open her father's house to those who had the past winter -welcomed and entertained her solely on account of her incomparable charm -coupled with her vocal ability. - -The way in which those nearest to her took the change was the greatest -possible proof of their single-hearted love for herself alone. - -'Lisha received an unexpected rating from Satira, who told him he'd have -better let Beaver Brook wash out the whole railroad company than have -fished out that box of misery. Miss Emmy took a more conventional view -of the matter, but ended by saying with a sigh, "As long as Poppea could -not have grown up with the knowledge, it was better unknown." - -Hugh Oldys alone remained absolutely silent; finally, Poppea, who was -waiting with feverish eagerness for him to make some sign, received -these few lines from him. - - "I am glad for you if you are glad, little comrade. Yet oftentimes - lately it has seemed to me that the positive knowledge of a thing - is so much harder to bear than the vague lack of it, that I have - ceased to ask, Why? - - "As ever your friend, - - "HUGH." - -Over these few words Poppea pondered long and sadly, seated in the -window of her little bedroom with the warm air of late May again -bringing the fragrance of apple blossoms with it. It was not yet a year -since they two had walked home together and she had hidden her heart -that with the first lift of its wings was poised, ready to fly to Hugh, -and at the same time she proffered him friendship. Her motives, surely, -had been of the most unselfish, and, as she then thought, far-seeing, -but now how insignificant they seemed compared to her loss that lay in -Hugh's acceptance of them. If she could have felt one pulse of the old -pressure in his hand-clasp when they met, or read the faintest -inclination toward a need of her between the lines of the brief note, -how quickly she would have revealed herself. Not only had she ceased to -be a necessity, but rather it seemed were their meetings becoming a -strain upon him, where even his cordial outward friendship was forced. - -Ah, back, far back, her thoughts flew, no longer the strains of the -motive of the Mystery of the Name sang to her brain; like Elsa, in the -pursuit of the mystery, she had not gained but lost. Moreover, though -she was happy in the fact that she might now see Philip without -restraint or reproach, her joy must be pale compared to his, for to him -she was all. - -For a week or more John Angus had made no move other than to see that a -proper statement of the facts of her birth was added to the village -record, writing tersely to Poppea that he had communicated with his -London solicitor to have all possible details traced out; then he -waited. - -The second week brought another note addressed to Miss Angus, asking her -to fix the time of her coming home, as there were some necessary -preparations to be made. - -This note remained unanswered for several days, not because of anything -contemptuous or insolent in Poppea's attitude, but for the reason that -she did not know how to word her refusal in order to make it final -without first consulting Stephen Latimer, and yet if she did so, she -feared that he might, from his high impersonal standpoint, try to -dissuade her; until, as she was about to write, the New York lawyer of -John Angus called at the post-office house. - -He was a polished man of the world as well as a legal light, but all the -subtly drawn pictures of advantage presented with the intricacies of his -calling were shattered upon the bare rock of her simple statement, "This -is my home, and I shall not leave Daddy or drop this name that has -sheltered me so long." - -Utterly baffled, the lawyer's admiration for the girl's firmness did not -prevent his returning to Angus and imparting something of the bitter and -sarcastic mood that opposition develops in legal temperaments. So that -while Angus ceased his attempts to bring Poppea to him, he brooded over -the matter to such an extent that he really came to believe that he -alone was wronged. If he had been physically able, he would have again -closed the house and gone away, but he could no longer hide his -increasing feebleness even from himself; consequently he had lost the -first field in his effort to conceal his condition from others. Besides, -Philip, once more established at his work, was now to be reckoned -with,--Philip with a man's spiritual courage and his newly acquired -strength of having kin, no longer bearing that brand of utter -desolation,--the being the last of one's race. - -All the other outlets being closed, John Angus fell back upon the law -for solace, and with its advice constructed a will under which, outside -of the cautionary sum of one hundred dollars, Poppea was to benefit in -no way by his estate. This was so tied up that Philip also would lose -his rights if he attempted in any way to share with his sister, and the -document being duly signed, sealed, was stowed away in the little safe -inserted in the wall by his bed head. He would not be within hearing of -criticism when the paper went into effect, so Angus, wearing his usual -air of inscrutability, took up his life much as before, save that he -suddenly announced that, owing to Philip's love of the sea, he would -build a midsummer home for him with a studio attached, on a strip of -land that he owned on the west side of Quality Hill, where the Moosatuck -joins the bay; and almost before the community had grasped the news the -quaintly gabled house was under way. - -With Poppea the matter was not to be allowed to rest so soon. Letters -came to her from all quarters, congratulating her, giving invitations -for visits, the sudden desire for her company all too evidently the -result of her supposedly changed condition. Gloria Hooper wrote more -than cordially, while Mrs. Hewlett, the well-meaning but very dense -mother of the two susceptible sons, ended her letter with this dubious -sentence, "I take great credit to myself, dear child, for always having -believed that you were not what you seemed to be." - -Others yet asked her plans and prospects in the most direct language, -with all their social training missing the fine reticence in this matter -that had marked the neighborhood people of Harley's Mills. - -In early June Poppea went up to visit Miss Emmy for a few days. Brave as -this little lady had been, the complete breaking up of the family -arrangements of years, and the lack of Miss Felton's strong personality -against which to lean, was telling upon her sadly. Her idea of a summer -abroad, once abandoned, was now again under discussion. A summer of long -periods of rest rather than hasty travel, with Nora for maid and Poppea -for companion, was the doctor's advice, and at the same time he said -that when the July heat came, it would be necessary for Miss Felton and -her charge to leave the city, and where else could they be so -comfortable as the great house on Quality Hill. - -Miss Emmy had been talking over the journey with Poppea, who at last had -consented to go with her, the final inducement being that she could -visit Hampshire, and in learning any possible facts concerning her -mother's life and death there, bring her nearer as a reality. - -The third week in July was the time now set, and the _Normanic_, with -its popular captain, the ship chosen, after much debate. That other -time, in the sixties, when Miss Emmy had been on the verge of breaking -away, the _Scotia_, with its ponderous side-wheels, had been the only -vessel to which women of sensibility felt that they could trust -themselves. - -Jeanne Latimer had come up for afternoon tea, and the two sat upon the -broad piazza overlooking the rose garden, already showing the golden -yellow of the scentless, old-fashioned, half-double brier roses -contrasting with the vivid crimson and rich perfume of the Jacqueminots. - -Each one of the three women was in a reflective mood, in which, strange -to say, the thought focussed about each other rather than about -themselves. - -"Where is Mr. Latimer?" asked Poppea. "This morning, when I met him on -the village road, he promised that he would surely come up this -afternoon to help us plan the English end of our journey; besides that, -he was to explain to me the best way for Daddy to write to Washington -concerning the new post-office. He cannot, of course, resign from an -office that will cease to exist the first of next January and he hopes -to hold it to the end. But he wishes to write in such a way that it will -be clearly seen that he does not desire the new _West Harbor_ position. -Not that they would give it to so old a man, but it satisfies his pride -not to allow himself to be merely dropped. - -"Think of it, Aunt Emmy, very soon Poppea of the Post-Office must give -up the name you gave her, not that she leaves it, but it will drop away -from her." - -"Why not take your mother's name, then?" said Jeanne Latimer. "Helen is -more fitting to the woman than Poppea, though of course to us you will -be Poppy for all time." - -"That also is one of the things about which I wanted to speak to Mr. -Latimer. Do you think that he is coming?" - -"He started with me, but as we were waiting at the church to see the men -who are doing something to the water-power that works the organ, Will -Burt, one of the young doctors from the Bridgeton Hospital, came past on -horseback, riding like mad. Stephen waved to him, for as a boy he had -been one of his music pupils, and he stopped short. It seems that he was -on his way to the Rectory on an errand that he had undertaken for its -very strangeness. - -"Late last night a short, thick-set man was brought into the hospital, a -brakeman from one of the through freights, and apparently a new hand on -the road, for he did not know of the low bridge at Moosatuck Junction, -or understand the signal lights. He was swept off and crushed against -the pier. Though hurt to death, he had remained conscious, and early -this afternoon, when rallied to the utmost by drugs, asked to speak to -one of the physicians alone. Burt, chancing through the ward, was -appealed to. There was something about the man that struck him at once; -past fifty, and bearing the signs of dissipation and recent neglect of -his person, he did not come of the grade who keep to the road at his -age. When he spoke, his words confirmed the impression. - -"'What place am I in, Doctor?' he began. - -"'Bridgeton, Connecticut,' Burt answered. - -"The man repeated the name to himself several times, and then asked:-- - -"'Would that be near a little place called Harley's Mills?' - -"'The next town to it.' - -"'Is there a clergyman hereabout who would, think you, do an errand for -a man that, being already dead in his legs, cannot do it for himself, a -matter of--well, we'll say _business_ rather than religion?' - -"Burt told him that there was a Roman Catholic priest always within -call, besides ministers of other denominations that could be had; but -the man sighed, hesitated, and finally said: 'I'm English born, though -I've long ago sold out my birthright, yet there's that much left of it -that makes me want to say what I must to the one that's the nearest like -him that used to teach us our duty in the little church betwixt the -wheat fields over there. I want the one that has the white robe, the -book, and the law behind him; but maybe, sir, you do not understand?' - -"Burt did understand, however, and remembering that the rector of St. -John's in Bridgeton was ill, came galloping over for Stephen. Why he did -it, or put Stephen to the trouble, he himself could not say, for maimed -railway men and similar requests are not uncommon in a hospital. Stephen -borrowed a horse from Hugh Oldys and fully expected to be back again by -six; it is after five now. Shall I make the tea, Miss Emmy? He would be -vexed to have you wait." - -How many odd moments as well as times of painful suspense the tea-tray -has bridged over. Many a time the period of waiting for the kettle to -boil has given the necessary pause to think that has changed a whole -life, and the need of balancing a cup and saucer in the hand has made an -excuse for looking down when looking up would have betrayed the whole. - -As Jeanne pottered and poured, Poppea's wandering eyes caught upon a -mere speck in the distance on the lower Bridgeton road. As it reached -the great span over Moosatuck it took the shape of horse and wheels. -Before it reached the turn below the hill, she knew rather than saw that -it was Hugh Oldys's outfit with Stephen Latimer driving, and that he was -in great haste. - -Though she neither spoke of it nor betrayed the slightest interest, yet -her heart pounded so that the hand that held the cup pulsed in response, -and she shifted it to the table, where she deliberately stirred the -sugar. Then, feeling that she could no longer sit still, she said, -looking toward the roses:-- - -"What a superb flower that is on the third bush. May I have it, Miss -Emmy?" and she swung herself lightly over the rail at the end of the -porch opposite the steps and arrived at the head of the walk with her -rose at the same time that Latimer drove in the gate. - -Seeing her, he threw the reins over the dashboard and jumped out; he had -the same pallor, coupled with the tension of suppressed excitement, that -he had worn the day after the fire. Coming directly toward Poppea, he -said:-- - -"Can you go through one more ordeal, the last?" - -"Yes," she answered quietly. "I knew that it was coming half an hour -ago. Is he dead? the man with the scar on his hand?" - -Latimer, startled in spite of himself at her words, merely nodded his -head for yes. - -"I felt that it was he when Jeanne told me you had been sent for. Won't -you please come and tell us all together, Jeanne and Miss Emmy? I have -not the courage I once had; I cannot seem to bear things alone." - -While Latimer walked slowly up the steps, his wife had time to gauge, in -a degree, the scene he had been through, before Poppea, who was in -advance of him, said, in answer to the questioning look upon the face of -both women:-- - -"The man whom he went to see was the one who brought me to Daddy; now -we shall know how," and dropping to a stool by Miss Emmy's side, she -rested her head upon the elder woman's knees, as she was used in the old -days of confidence before things began to happen. - -Latimer took the cup of tea that Jeanne brought to him, and then -another, before he drew his chair closer to the group of women and -began, trying to compress his narrative as much as possible for the sake -of all concerned, while he spoke as to Poppea alone. - -"The man brought to the Bridgeton Hospital was Peter Randal, the son of -Betty Randal, your grandfather Dudleigh's housekeeper and your mother's -nurse. When your mother returned to Hampshire and you were born, Peter -was away at sea, but came back soon after her death and married an old -sweetheart, a pretty barmaid of the town. Betty Randal, though to all -appearances in the prime of life and best of health, died suddenly a few -months after your mother, without having had time to carry out any of -her directions or safeguard you in any way, so that Peter and his wife -found themselves left with you on their hands and the temptation of a -snug fortune before them, because your little sum of money had been at -the time entirely in Betty Randal's control. - -"Peter's wife had a sister in Canada, who made great representations of -the fortunes to be made there in farming if one only had money in hand; -so after much persuading, Peter yielded doggedly to the scheme of -keeping your money, which it would have been really difficult to prove -did not belong to Betty herself. - -"Peter, however, refused even to think of the plan of leaving you at -some foundling asylum instead of taking you to your father, and insisted -upon going to Canada by way of Boston, bringing you with them, and -leaving you with John Angus _en route_. He also had sufficient family -feeling to take with you the papers your mother had left, upon which he -knew Betty had set such store. - -"Knowing nothing of the country, they found upon their arrival that -Boston was far east of their destination, and so, going to New York, -worked their way backward, getting off in the confusion of the war -excitement and the late train at Westboro, while the box, hastily -addressed to John Angus, Harley's Mills, and not checked, was dropped -off at this station, the tag evidently having been in some way mutilated -in transit so that the place of destination only remained. - -"On asking some chance loungers at the Westboro depot the direction of -John Angus's house at Harley's Mills, Randal was told 'the first above -the post-office,' and to that they drove, not realizing that their -guides in this case considered the joined house and office as one -building. In the fury of the storm the Randals only waited to be sure -that the door was opened, and going to Bridgeton, were lost among many -other travellers. For some time everything went well with the pair, and -then luck turned. Peter's wife left him after securing the farm to -herself, and first the man took to the road, trying in some way to -return to the old country, but in spite of all, a bit of deep-down -remorse made him wish to know what had become of the baby Helen on his -way.--The rest you know." - -"What will they do with him?" asked Poppea, softly. - -"That which he asked of me," said Latimer. - -"I must have known you would have thought of it, and yet there must be -an odd touch of the same race feeling in me too. Thief as he was, his -people were once loyal to mine, also I wish I might have thanked him for -his mistake." - -"I did it for you, child, and for us all," and in the look that Poppea -turned on him he read a gratefulness beyond words. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -JOHN ANGUS - - -In the early part of July, a lift having been added to the house to -accommodate his wheel-chair, Miss Felton and Caleb brought Mr. -Esterbrook to Quality Hill. The homecoming was in itself pathetic, but -not to be compared with the starved and yearning affection that beamed -from Miss Felton's eyes every time she looked at him, followed by an -expression of gratitude when he managed to express the simplest wish. - -In appearance the old man was as trim and dapper as of old; he never was -allowed to be seen below stairs without his light gray or buff spats, -and this toilet was made afresh every afternoon, though as to the -evening there was no change, for he supped in his room and was put to -bed by eight o'clock. - -Of waistcoats and neckties he had a fresh assortment and appeared to -take pleasure in them, and in some way express his choice to Caleb; but -aside from the physical difficulty of speech, such as he could command -had the aphasia warp, so that he usually said the opposite of what he -meant, thus bringing an added bitterness to Miss Elizabeth. When she was -in the room, he followed her with his eyes and sometimes refused to eat -at all unless she fed him, and he often held and patted her hand when -she walked beside his chair under the old shade trees, but when he tried -to call her by name, it was always Emmy that he said and not Elizabeth, -or Beth, as she had been called in childhood. - -Sometimes Miss Felton would try to argue, saying:-- - -"This is Elizabeth. You know Elizabeth, do you not?" but still he would -laugh noiselessly, the laugh of senility not mirth, and nod his head to -and fro, saying:-- - -"Know Emmy? know Emmy? yes, yes, Emmy!" and sometimes throw kisses to -her with the hand that he could move. So finally she let it pass -unnoticed. But Miss Emmy, being once within hearing of it, conceived an -intense aversion to the poor man, and afterward kept entirely out of his -sight. - -After a time of absolute silence, Poppea took up her singing with fresh -interest, and Stephen Latimer noticed the increased volume as well as -sympathy of her voice. After all, it seemed a pity to put any check upon -such a gift, and little by little he began to speak of the desirability -of her still further developing it as an art, even as her brother Philip -was developing his gift of modelling. - -Latimer well knew that Poppea's nature was not one of those who can eke -out a life of small things without the force of a mastering love to -blend them into dignity, and so he talked of study abroad and travel -until Poppea herself began to take up the idea. - -Early one evening she had been walking up and down the grassy garden -path, watching the poppies fold their petals, palm to palm, for the -night, taking the form of pilgrim's cockle-shells, and all at once it -came to her that these flowers from the old garden on the hill above had -doubtless been planted by her mother long ago, for they were English -poppies, delicate of tint, and not the heavy-hued Orientals. How -wonderful it was, this handing down. Touching them lightly with her -finger-tips as she walked, her heart began to sing back to that long -ago, and then the music welled from her lips, all unconscious that she -had two auditors; John Angus, sitting above on his piazza, muffled and -chilly even in the balmy evening, and a man, who with the air of a -stranger, had been walking up and down the road. Finally he opened the -gate to the post-office house, but instead of following the sound of the -music to its origin, proceeded to the door and knocked. - -Presently Oliver Gilbert came stumbling out into the twilight, and, cane -in hand, made his halting way into the garden. - -"Poppy," he said, "there is some one who wants to see you; it's that Mr. -Winslow who came down last summer, the day after the Felton ladies had -the party. Do you remember?" - -"Yes, Daddy," said Poppea, "I remember,"--the words feeling cold to her -lips like drops of dew. - -"Will you come indoors? or shall I tell him you are here?" - -"I will come in," she said, rising quickly from the bench on which she -had been seated for a moment. No, she did _not_ want him to come there, -for beside her in the twilight seemed to be sitting the ghost of Hugh. - -Yet slow as Gilbert was, he gained the house before her, and when she -reached the porch, it was Bradish Winslow alone who stood in the open -doorway, both hands extended. - -"I have been abroad; I did not know until yesterday," he said at once -without other greeting--as if she must have wondered at his silence. -"And now the thing of which you made a barrier has vanished, how can you -keep me out, how can you hold me away even if you want to, little one? -But you don't, you can't; ah, child, child, do you know how I have -missed you? How I had to put the ocean between in order to obey the plea -in your letter?" - -He had seized her hands in his greeting and still held them, drawing her -nearer and nearer to him by a power that was not wholly physical force; -while she, having forgotten a certain magnetism she had always felt in -his presence, did not know how to protest. - -Finally freeing her hand, she pulled forward a deep porch chair, and -intrenched in its protecting arms, motioned him to take its mate. - -"I did not know that you were away," she managed to say at last. - -"Then why did you not write me only one word, 'Come'?" - -"Because, because," she stammered miserably, "I didn't think of it, -because it was better that you shouldn't," and she hid her face between -her hands to free it from the yearning of his eyes. - -"Poppea, do you not understand how much and why I care for you, for -yourself and that only?" he said presently, his voice changing from the -ringing, joyous tone of his greeting to one serious to the verge of -sadness. - -"I believe that you do, with all my heart and soul," she answered, and -continued in an almost reverent tone, "Few men would have acted toward -me as you did that night of humiliation. I did not realize it fully -then, but I do now, and this makes me understand all the more the -difference between what you offer me and the best I have to give." - -"Even so, a little is a beginning, dear, and I can wait in patience if -you will only let me be near you and teach you what love means. You do -not even yet dream what it is, you, who, above all others I have met, -were made for it and cannot be yourself without it." He saw that Poppea -was moved, was trembling, and for the moment he believed he had almost -won. - -"Perhaps I have not yet dreamed as you say," she answered gently, "but -of this I am certain: love does not come by learning, love knows and is -sure." - -Winslow's face changed, his throat felt dry, his lips seemed riveted -together, his whole being fell under the spell of a complete depression. - -"Then you do know?" he said in a broken, husky voice. - -"Yes, I know," she replied like a faint echo. - -He did not make any attempt either to reason with her or to go; he -merely sat there in utter dejection, this man of the world and its -affairs, whom women had these many years called callous. - -When at last he pulled himself from the chair, he held out both his -hands, but did not go toward Poppea. - -"Then it is good-by?" he questioned. - -"I'm afraid it must be," she replied, touched by a profound sadness, -"but oh, I do wish for my own sake it need not be, for in spite of -everything I am so very lonely." Then of her own accord she took his -hands and looked into his face, but in her eyes there shone something -that checked the parting kiss that he intended. If she were born for -love, she was no less fashioned for fidelity even to an idea, and -Winslow saw that young as she was and whether she realized it or not, he -had come into her life too late. - - * * * * * - -John Angus, sitting alone on his piazza, had at first listened in -irritation to the voice below in the garden, then the very quality of -its tone brought back the past as a surging tide that he could not -check. Once more he was at the open-air fête of a foreign city and the -singing of a lovely girl, little more than a child, had crept into his -heart, as her exquisite form and coloring had pleased his critical eye, -and he had let himself go. Then to keep the time schedule he had -arranged between himself and certain inexorable ambitions, he had -suddenly pulled the chain brutally taut, and among those that it had -cruelly bruised, must he not at last count himself? - -What if he had not--but what was the use. The singing ceased and with it -his unusual revery. Shivering at the touch of the dew on the arm of his -chair, he went indoors, closing the long porch window after him, and -after wandering listlessly through the lower rooms for a while, climbed -slowly up to his own chamber in the same wing with Philip's rooms, where -he sat reading, and so seemed less lonely. For of late, without spoken -words having passed between, Philip was becoming more and more estranged -from his father, and sought his room or went to the studio as soon as -might be after meals, until John Angus began to wonder, with a -half-physical, half-emotional belief in the supernatural, if it were -possible that Philip knew the policy of the will that he had made, by a -form of second sight. - -This thought was uppermost as he entered his private room, and after -lighting the four lamps that it held, closed and locked the door. He -would read the will over once more after he was comfortably fixed in -bed. He could not understand why in July the air should be so cold, yet -as fresh air was his chief necessity, he could not close the windows. -Turning to ring for his valet, that he might light the wood fire that -was laid ready at all seasons, he changed his mind and put a match to it -himself. Drawing a chair before the blaze, that under ordinary -conditions he would have deemed suffocating, he chafed and warmed his -hands. This done, he slowly set about undressing. - -When quite ready for bed, he again changed his mind, and throwing on a -dressing-gown, slid back the panel from the small square closet by the -bed, and opening the safe, took from it the will, which, from its -completion, had seemed to exercise a strange fascination over him. He -would read it once more to be sure that all points were covered, and on -the morrow, as he expected to go to town, he would place it once for all -in the safety vault, for such a paper had no place in one's house, even -if under lock and key. - -As he turned for the twentieth time the half dozen pages he knew almost -by heart, a voice seemed to be making a running commentary in his ear, -and the pith of it all was: "What have you gained by trying to control -others absolutely all your life? What are you gaining now by trying to -control others absolutely after you are dead?" - -The worst of it was that the critic seemed waiting for an answer, and -he, having none ready, sat trying to frame one, but he could not, for -there was none to give. - -Suddenly the pain that was an agony ran through the arm and hand that -grasped the will and then gripped his chest. It was one of his seizures, -but more intense than usual. He felt himself realizing that it would -pass off as others had before, but it did not. He could not reach the -bell or little tablet vial on his dresser. He had known, of course, the -end must come some day. Was that time now? The will, stirred by the -tremor of his hand, fairly flaunted in his face. - -Why had he made it? Why? "Why not destroy it now," the voice whispered, -"and for once will for good?" - -He tried to move, but the agony held him fast, he was suffocating and -not even slowly. - -"Try," whispered the voice; "the fire is almost at your feet, and it -will help you." - -Then inch by inch he worked himself forward, and unclasping his -stiffening hand, dropped the paper on the hearth. - -Would the blaze reach it? Would he live to know? - -Yes, the eager flame caught hold; he saw the red seals melt, his -signature disappear, and then--John Angus's greed for power was quenched -by that last act. - -It was late the next morning that the man-servant, unable to open the -door, climbed in the open window and found his master fallen back in the -arm-chair, his bed untouched. When, panic-stricken, he opened the door, -calling loudly for help, Philip came quickly in, and saw his father, the -open safe, and the fragments of burnt legal papers on the hearthstone, -and reading the few words that remained, he understood. Putting his arms -about the lifeless form as he never before had dared, he thanked God in -his heart for the single tender memory. - - * * * * * - -Though due show of public respect was paid in the last rites, as due to -a leading citizen whose name, known to them rather than his person, was -always first on the subscription papers alike for foreign missions and -civic improvements, John Angus's death did not affect any one. The only -person who really took it to heart was Oliver Gilbert. To him the one -idea was paramount, the death of his neighbor before the possibility of -mutual understanding had come, and with the Puritan strain of -self-reproach strong in him, Gilbert, sitting in his little shop, -mentally scourged himself and followed painfully on foot in company with -the humbler members of the town as though the fault lay on his side. - -"What shall you do?" Jeanne Latimer had asked Poppea during the next day -when Philip was closeted with her husband in whose hands he had placed -all arrangements. - -"Whatever Philip wishes," Poppea answered. "You know he is the family -now, and he will never broach the one point I cannot yield." - -"Shall you wear black?" Jeanne continued with some hesitation. - -"I think so, for a time," Poppea said with brows knitted, "or else -Philip will feel so entirely alone, so isolated." - -In a week's time the lawyer, whom Poppea had met before, came to the -Rectory, where Philip had been staying since the funeral, for the boy -had told Stephen Latimer frankly that he should never again sleep in the -house on Windy Hill, where the servants now remained alone, awaiting -events and orders, or again go to the sombre city house that looked -across Washington Square. - -The lawyer met Philip and Mr. Latimer alone, as Poppea had asked to be -released from any part in this interview, and spoke of the will that he -had drawn up within the month and produced the draft of it. - -Philip laid on the table the scorched fragments found upon the hearth -on which a visible word here and there was enough to prove identity. - -"Then the course of the law lies straight," the lawyer said; "but as Mr. -Philip Angus is a minor until next year, a guardian must be appointed." - -"I shall petition that Mr. Latimer acts as such," Philip replied. - -"What has Miss Angus--Gilbert--or whatever she persists in calling -herself, to say to that, pray?" - -"She bids me say as her spokesman," Philip answered, "that she intends -to make no personal claim in the matter. Whatever may be hereafter -decided will be out of the range of business or of law and will lie only -between her brother and herself." - -"A close corporation, it seems," said the lawyer, puckering his mouth -for a contemptuous whistle, but catching sight of a glance in Latimer's -eye, he checked it by remarking:-- - -"Pray tell me, as between man and man, is this young woman quite sane? -She can claim half of an ample though not princely property." - -"Yes, quite sane," said Latimer, in accents as steely and clear-cut as -the man's own, "but the expression of her sanity does not chance to take -a form familiar to members of your calling." - -After this the wheels of local probate law began to turn with their -usual deliberation. - -At first Miss Emmy proposed to postpone their journey, but now it was -Poppea who urged her on, feeling the positive necessity of a change and -a little time away from familiar places, in which to readjust herself. -She not only now wished to look over the field for musical study at -close range, but dreams flitted through her head of a winter either in -Florence or in Rome in company with Philip, though not, perhaps, at -once; for winter was a perilous time for one of Oliver Gilbert's years, -and this winter the post-office would cease to be, in itself no small -bereavement to him. - -Again Satira, her snapping black eyes always fixed eagerly upon the -bustling life of the village centre, came to the fore, and 'Lisha, good, -easy man, acquiesced, acknowledging that "twarn't no further to go up to -the corn and potato fields of mornings than, living on the hill, to hev -to drop down to the village o' nights for a dish of gossip and the -news." - -Finally the day before the one for sailing came, and with it the -startling announcement from Oliver Gilbert that he was going to the city -to see Poppea off. - -"Land alive! you'll get lost; you don't know how the city's changed -these near twenty years since the time you would fetch Poppy down to -President Lincoln's obsequies!" cried Satira. "I've heard Miss Emmy say -that what were cow pastures where she used to pick dandelions when a -girl are built solid over with emporiums of fashion. Besides, you've -never been aboard anything bigger'n Captain Secors's onion schooner, and -if that big thing they're going on began to get up steam and snort, -_how_ it would quake your vitals. It did mine that trip I took." - -_That trip_ being the term applied to a wonderful excursion of the -previous summer, from Bridgeton to the new-found land of pleasure, Coney -Island, whither 'Lisha had taken her, and of which he was destined never -to hear the last. - -But Gilbert saying in a tone that barred discussion that he would take -whatever risks there were, the matter was dropped as being decided. - -Late in the scorching July afternoon he harnessed his old Roman-nosed -horse to the chaise and disappeared on the cross-road that ran eastward -toward the Moosatuck, without vouchsafing any explanation to his sister, -who, having questioned him in vain, called his attention to the -threatening array of 'thunder-heads' that were rolling over the hills, -every few seconds being rent together by forks of lightning. - -He had been gone perhaps half an hour when the storm reached the -village, and great splashes of rain, falling upon the shed roof, were -turned into steam by the heat of the tin. - -Poppea, having given the finishing touches to her simple packing, was -setting her room in order, fingering each article lovingly as though she -felt that even should she come back and find all as she left it, yet -there must be a difference. - -As the rain increased to a steady downpour, she looked anxiously up the -road and made a mental calculation as to what houses lay on the route -Daddy had taken, and where he would be by now, his probable destination -having been as obscure to her as to Satira. - -Meanwhile, the horse and chaise were standing in the shelter of an -abandoned lumber shack in the woods that overhung the west bank of -Moosatuck, while Gilbert, utterly oblivious of the rain that gradually -sifted to him through the heavy leafage, was following a narrow -foot-path. Glancing from side to side, he pulled a long string of -ground-pine here, there a fine branch of strong laurel, and then again a -handful of the dark green, white-veined leaves of the wax-flowered -pipsissewa; when his arms would hold no more and he again reached the -chaise, the thunder-heads were scurrying across the bay and the rain was -over. - -Poppea had sorted the evening mail and was sitting at the desk in -Gilbert's workshop when he came in, slowly yet without his cane, and -crossing to where she was, laid his armful of dripping wood-treasure -before her, saying, half-shamedfacedly, yet as to one who would -understand:-- - -"Will you tie me a nice wreath, Poppy, like the one we always have to -hang up there at Christmas, lacking of course the berries? I guess I'll -go in and change and get a bite to eat, if you'll spell me here for -twenty minutes longer," and Poppea, with a comprehending smile and nod, -buried her face in the fresh, spicy greenery. - -What Gilbert wanted with the wreath or did with it when he took it from -her hands presently, she did not know, for later, as she walked up and -down the flagged walk between the porch and gate, thinking of the -details of to-morrow, the latch clicked and Hugh Oldys came through the -wicket. - -It was not alone the colorless twilight that made the change in his -face which struck her like a blow. Without having become absolutely -thin, the man of a year before, with height and breadth, good color, -wholesome flesh, natural joy and interest in life and living, seemed to -have passed through some phase that, while it spiritualized in a sense, -had eliminated much that was characteristic. - -"Your mother--is she worse?" was Poppea's first question. - -"I do not think so, though in a case like hers it is worse to be no -better. I should have been to see you many days ago but for a sudden -change in nurses. No one stays more than a month," he added, breaking -through his habitual reticence on this subject, as though at last he -must have the support of sympathy. - -"No one but you, Hugh. Ah, how can you go on so when every one else -falters?" - -"Because she is my mother and not theirs; in that lies all." - -"All?" Poppea echoed, leaning toward him with such unmistakable -tenderness in her eyes that it must have broken through any self-raised -barrier of the man's had he but seen and compassed it. Yet he never -looked at her directly nor let her read his face, though it was not -until after he had gone that Poppea realized this. - -For an hour the conversation drifted to casual things, and save for -Philip, his work and plans, in wholly impersonal channels, they two -sitting on the top step of the porch. When at last Hugh rose to go, and -walking slowly side by side down the narrow path they halted at the -end, one inside the gate, one without, he said, looking backward up the -way they had come, as if into the past:-- - -"It will be good when you come back, but it isn't to be supposed or -hoped that after you have made the break you will care for this sleepy -little village as you have, Poppea. I have always wondered why you cared -so little for the New York life with the fine opening you made. In the -few months I had there, the fulness and the vigor of it all gripped me -so that leaving was a wrench." - -"For New York? Yes, I cared for that and all the best it gives. But the -life? Yes, I cared for that too, in a way, until I stood off and looked -back." - -Then, clasping her hands about the post, she said, smiling shyly, with a -little quizzical expression at the corners of her mouth:-- - -"Do you remember once, long ago, how you and I stood by the railroad -brook and watched a big, striped snake charm and swallow a little green -frog? - -"We didn't mean to let the affair come to the swallowing, but though the -beginning was slow, the frog sat still and waited too long, and the end -came quicker than we expected. Then, as the lump that was the frog began -to be moved down the snake's length in being digested, you took your -foot and little by little edged the frog backward out of the snake's -mouth to the ground, slime covered and quite insensible. Then we both -took water in our hands, and dashing it washed the slime away, until -presently the frog came to and hopped away like mad, without ever -looking back. - -"Well, once upon a time, Hugh, as the fairy stories say, I was a little -green frog and the life down there the snake; it drew me, and I didn't -want to get away, until, when it was almost too late, one night a great -splash of cold water, thrown by people who did not throw it in kindness, -and that nearly strangled me, brought me to, and I hopped away without -even wishing to look back. - -"So when you think to yourself again, 'Poppea will yet love the life of -the city,' remember the little green frog!" - -Thus they parted in a sudden ripple of laughter, good friends. - -Next day, in the hurry and bustle that always belong to an outgoing -steamer in the season of summer travel, some of those in the crowd on -the deck of the _Normanic_ were attracted by the sight of a young and -well-bred woman of unusual beauty, accompanied by a maid and some one -who might either be her mother or aunt, clinging tearfully about the -neck of an old man, whom she was wishing good-by. While there was -nothing unusual about the parting at such a time, yet the dainty dress -and bearing of the woman were in striking contrast to the homespun -plainness of the man, who wore the long, flowing beard, stiff clothes, -and wide-brimmed Panama hat, his Sunday best for years, that marks the -countryman. Moreover, he carried a home-made hickory cane and clutched -to his breast a bulky newspaper parcel. - -When the final blast of "all ashore" was sounded, the air quivering with -the vibrations, the girl loosed her hold, and crying, "Good-by, dear -Daddy!" disappeared in the crowd that gathered by the stairway; while -he, turning toward the gang-plank, marched down it with all the -soldier-like precision his lameness would allow, never looking back, his -bundle still clasped tightly to him. - -Boarding a small blue car known as a "bob-tail," Gilbert rode across the -city, carefully scanning his course. When he emerged presently from the -region of crooked ways to where the avenues run north and south and the -streets east and west, and saw ahead an open square, he stopped the car, -and standing at the street curb, shielding his eyes from the pitiless -sun, tried to get his bearings. - -"Fourteenth Street," said one lamp-post, "University Place" another. -Yes, the park opposite was Union Square, but where was the house on -whose porch he had stood that April day in eighteen sixty-five when the -procession swung around from Broadway? - -A business building covered with signs replaced it; yet at the same -moment, his eyes fell on what he sought. The statue of Lincoln, rugged -and majestic, standing above the cobbled plateau, calm and unmoved by -all the frantic bustle of the street. - -Making his way carefully through the traffic, Gilbert approached the -rail about the statue. He paused for a moment, and then, undoing his -parcel, took from it the wreath, rested it on the railing, while he -folded the paper and, winding the string about it, placed it in his -pocket. Then getting stiffly over the barrier, he laid the wreath at -Lincoln's feet, raised his old hat, looking up into Lincoln's face as -one in perfect, if humble, comradeship, while his lips murmured, -"Through you I have finished the course, with you I have kept the -faith!" - -The people of the street, big and little, loafer and gamin, who spring -up about an unusual object as swiftly as the circles surround a stone -flung in the water, neither jostled nor jeered nor plucked the wreath -away, for among the simple-minded, hero-worship will never die out save -for lack of heroes. - -Then making his way back to Fifth Avenue, Gilbert, seeking the scanty -bits of shade as best he might, walked up its length until he reached -the third open space and turned eastward to the railway station. - -At the coming of the evening mail he pottered as usual with the letters -as though that day had been like all the others, and ate his supper with -little sauce of conversation, to the inexpressible disappointment of -Satira Potts. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -ON THE WINGS OF THE MORNING - - -During the remainder of the summer the village of Harley's Mills went -into a sort of chrysalis state as befitted its coming change of name. -The fact that the Felton house had ceased to exist as a social centre -and that many of the Quality Hill folk had gone abroad added -considerably to its somnolence. Some of what are generally referred to -by the local press as "leading citizens" had under construction a brick -block on the Westboro side of the blacksmith shop in which the chief -trade interests of the place were to be sheltered, including the new -post-office. - -Philip Angus continued with the Latimers, for his new house overlooking -the sea would not be ready before October, and if the rumor proved true -that Howell, the sculptor, was anxious to take Philip with him to winter -in Rome, it was unlikely that it would be occupied before spring. - -Of course there was much speculation concerning the amount and -disposition of John Angus's property, especially his holdings in real -estate, for he owned some of the most sightly tracts in the township in -addition to the house and home acres on Windy Hill. Early in the autumn -a definite statement was given out concerning the latter by no less an -authority than Stephen Latimer. Poppea and Philip, agreeing that under -no circumstances could they live there, proposed to devote it to a -hospital and home for crippled children from the city, and the necessary -alterations began soon after. - -It was almost Thanksgiving time when Miss Emmy and Poppea returned, Miss -Emmy going directly to the house on Quality Hill which she now called -home, Miss Felton and Caleb having moved Mr. Esterbrook back to Madison -Square at the beginning of cold weather. The village did not realize how -much it had missed them both until Poppea was again seen walking daily -up the road to Quality Hill, and Miss Emmy resumed her morning marketing -trips, where she sat in the barouche (the lining was now a durable -russet leather) dressed in very suitable and becoming brown with a -warming glint of color in the velvet rose on her bonnet, holding a sort -of court, whereat the butcher extolled the quality of his sweetbreads, -and the blacksmith's wife related the details of her rheumatism and her -husband's father's last seizure, with equal freedom. - -Immediately after her return, Philip took Poppea to see the new house, -to which a music room with a place for an organ had been added to the -original plan by throwing out a wing to correspond with his studio. With -her arm about his shoulders they walked slowly through the rooms, -stopping before the picture that each window offered, until they came -to one on the second floor, a bay from which one might not only look out -to sea, but up the Moosatuck until it was lost in the hill-country. - -"This is your room," he said, laying a detaining hand upon her arm to -make her hear him out, "whenever you wish to come to it for an hour or -forever, but I never shall ask you by so much as a word to leave Daddy, -for I feel about it much as you do. What if he had not? Oh, Sister, what -if he had not? You would have still been yourself, but I, what should I -have been without you to love?" and the rapt expression stole across his -face with which the devotee is pictured. - -Presently, sitting side by side on the steps of the wide porch in the -early winter sunshine, they talked over Philip's plans, the tide -creeping up the sand laden with pungent seaweed, and the gulls now -flying across with shrill cries, now dropping to rest upon the water. - -At last Philip, taking Poppea's hand and laying it against his cheek, -told her of what was closest to his heart,--his desire to go to Rome -with Howell for the winter, to do there with the master a piece of work -he could not hope yet to accomplish alone. Unrolling a paper he showed -her the design for the group, the outcome of months of thought and -dreaming. Two women, one taller than the other, with tender, radiant -faces, standing side by side, hands outstretched to aid a crippled -child, who, having dropped his crutch, was clinging to them. About the -base this legend ran _Amor Consolatrix_. - -"These are our mothers," he said softly, "yours and mine. When they are -done in marble, they shall stand by the gate up at the hospital to -welcome the children who must go in alone." - -So Philip sailed away, and from the Christmas music at St. Luke's his -silver voice was missing. - -But if Philip's tones were silver, Poppea's now poured forth like rich, -unalloyed gold. It seemed to her as though she had never fathomed the -full joy of singing until, lacking necessity, it had ceased to be a -possible commercial profession, and become, as now she held it, a -freewill gift to all who asked for or needed it, singing alike in -church, hospital ward, the poor-house, or in the low farm-houses of the -back hill-country, where she carried hope and music to those for whom -all other doors were closed. Once even had she gone over the deeply -drifted roads on a wood sled with 'Lisha Potts to a revival meeting at -his lumber camp, and in the rough faces of the wood-choppers read a -deeper, truer appreciation than she had ever felt respond to her among -the music-lovers of the drawing-room. - -Then, too, there were the Sunday evenings, she and Daddy sitting on -either side the fire in the foreroom,--Satira going invariably to the -muscular type of prayer-meeting that would satisfy her soul's hunger for -the next seven days.--Then the heartstrings would quiver in vain for the -magic thrill and the sound of the melody that only one may play for each -one of us, until to break the oppressive silence, she would lift the -piano lid and let her fingers feel their way a moment, until the -old-time hymns and anthems made response. Gradually Daddy would join in, -until at the end of half an hour he was singing with might and main, -although often quite off the key and half a bar behind. As she paused, -he would limp to and fro rubbing his hands together, and saying for the -fortieth time:-- - -"Pretty good music you and I can make, eh, Poppy? Forty years ago I was -the loudest bass singer in this township, and 'twas when I was singing -in First Church Choir that Mary, a stranger to me, sang the second -treble, and it was the kind way she had of keeping me in line when I'd -shied from the tuning-fork that made me take to her. Yes, it's true what -the poet says, that Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. It -soothed mine, Poppy, who always had dreaded women." - -So the winter wore away. March, the tug of war between seasons, -blustered out roaring defiance, and April, the capricious, in its last -week had kept to one mood long enough to green the grass, draw red blood -to the maple tops, and gold sap to the willows. - -In two weeks more Philip would return. Poppea was entering the gate with -a letter from him that had come in the last mail. She had walked slowly -up from the new post-office in the brick block, reading it as she came. -How different all concerning the new order was, to be sure: _Entrance_ -and _Exit_ printed plainly on the doors; no little knots of men from the -scattered back settlement exchanging news. Rather did these, after -getting their mail, continue to come to their old haunt and talk to -Gilbert as he sat in his shop, sometimes idle but never listless, while -a large checkerboard put by Poppea's suggestion in the place of the -boxes of the old beehive, filled the gap when the powers of conversation -needed rest. - -She stopped to look at a cluster of daffodils, whose jolly yellow -flowers kept on beaming even through the dusk, and then went toward the -house, when the wheels of a vehicle, coming rapidly up the road, stopped -short, and Hugh Oldys's voice called:-- - -"Poppea, wait a minute, please," and without pausing to fasten the -horse, he pushed through the gate and strode toward her. - -"What is it, Hugh?" she almost cried out, shocked by the ashiness of his -face and its nervous working. "Can I help you in any way?" - -"Yes, you can help me and only you, though I do not know that I ought to -let you undergo the strain even if you are willing. - -"Listen and judge, Poppea. Last night my mother became physically ill; -until then her bodily health has been better than for years. This -afternoon within two hours her mind has suddenly cleared, the doctors -explain it by the moving of a clot. She called me to her and spoke as -naturally as before the blow fell; yet she remembers perfectly well that -father is dead and that she has been very ill, though she has no sense -of the length of time. Then she begged me not to leave her for so long -again, and asked for you, Poppea." - -"Why, Hugh, I will go to her at once. Could you think that I would not?" - -"That--that is not all," he faltered, his shoulders drooping and his -whole attitude broken and dejected. "She thinks that everything is as -she had believed it would be--two years--ago. She thinks that we are -married--that you are in the house, but stay out of the room for fear of -disturbing her. Oh, Poppea, could you--could you slip a loose shawl or a -sack over your shoulders and go in for a moment and speak to her or -answer her, so that she need not know? Will you do it for the sake of -all those years that we were comrades?" - -Only for a moment had Poppea drawn back, but it was so imperceptibly -that Hugh did not notice. - -"I will go," she said slowly, without looking at him, "and you need wait -only a minute." - -Going swiftly to her room, she made a wrapper and pair of slippers into -a hasty bundle and threw a light shawl about her head and shoulders. -Saying a few words to Satira, who was in the kitchen kneading bread and -so could not follow her to the gate for details other than she chose to -give, she took her place silently by Hugh in the buggy. - -On the drive neither spoke, for it was one of the hours when the softest -spoken word is too harsh and jarring. Up from the marsh meadows the cry -of the rejuvenated "peepers" rose in what to Poppea's nerves, strained -to snapping, seemed a clamor that surrounded her head closely and dulled -even her powers of thought. - -At the threshold Mrs. Shandy was waiting, her eyes red from crying. With -finger on her lips Poppea signalled that she wished to go to Mrs. -Shandy's room. There she slipped on the wrapper she had brought, and -loosing the pins, let her hair fall in a careless braid, as though she -had but just waked up. - -In the square upper hall Dr. Morewood sat in a deep easy-chair, reading -by a shaded lamp. In answer to Poppea's questioning look he said in the -low tone, that yet is not a whisper, which the sensitive physician -acquires:-- - -"Yes, the brain is clear, but the physical vitality in its final -flicker; at best it can hold its own but a few hours." - -When, steadying herself by an almost superhuman effort, Poppea reached -the door of Mrs. Oldys's chamber, so familiar in every detail even in -the subdued light, Hugh was already there crouched by the bedside, one -of his mother's transparent hands clasping his, while with the other she -was striving to push back the heavy hair from his forehead. - -At the sight of Poppea the nurse drew back into the alcove shadows. -Seating herself in a vacant chair on the opposite side from Hugh and -waiting a few seconds, the girl made a very slight motion that revealed -her presence. - -"My dear daughter!" Mrs. Oldys formed the words rather than spoke them, -dropping her other hand upon Poppea's so that she was held fast as it -were between them. - -"Why have you stayed away so long? I have thought that you were ill," -the voice was clearer now. "Did Hugh break your sleep to call you?" - -"No,--Mother,--I was quite awake when he said you wanted me." - -"And you will stay with me to-night?" - -"Yes, surely I will stay." - -"Now I am at peace, my two dear children--" the fluttering eyelids -closed and for a while she seemed to sleep, except that the pressure of -her hands did not relax. - -Presently she looked up again. - -"I cannot seem to think by myself," she said, "I need something to lean -upon--to carry me with it. Do you remember, Hugh, the music--the song -that you and Poppy used to sing sometimes without the organ? It brought -me close to the gate--perhaps it would carry me through with it -to-night." - -Poppea, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, looked toward Hugh, -but his face was buried in his arm. Then a calm settled over her. -Loosening the robe at her throat, she straightened herself, and from her -lips the notes fell soft yet clear:-- - - "Hark! hark, my soul; angelic songs are swelling." - -An expression of ineffable peace crossed Mrs. Oldys's face. - -"Yes, that is it," she whispered, smiling. - -Unfalteringly Poppea sang to the end, and it was not until the last note -died away in complete silence that Hugh raised his head. - -Presently the doctor looked in, the nurse came forward with some -nourishment, and so the night wore on, but it was not until the dawn -began to scatter darkness that the frail hands gradually relaxed their -loving clasp, and the nurse looking from the shadows beckoned the -watchers away. - -Through the passageway and down the stairs Hugh and Poppea passed -together. Then Hugh left her for a moment, returning to say that Dr. -Morewood would drive her home as she must have some rest as soon as -possible. - -Mrs. Shandy, coming out, begged her to wait and take a cup of coffee, -but Poppea shook her head. - -Out on the porch in the fresh, yet mysterious air of coming day, they -waited for the doctor to bring his chaise. Below lay Moosatuck veiled in -mist; beyond, the blue ridge of the hills; one bird called, then -another, until half a hundred had picked up the anthem. Each moment it -grew lighter, the darkness huddled cornerwise down the west, while the -morning star and the harbor beacon paled together. - -For a time neither spoke nor looked at each other, then Hugh broke the -silence. - -"In a few days, Poppea,--when I am no longer needed,--I shall be going -away for a rest, a long rest, and perhaps it may be that afterward my -life will lie in other places." Then suddenly breaking down, he grasped -her hands, and pressing them to his lips, said, with a half-suppressed -cry:-- - -"Little comrade! Little comrade! All that I can tell you, all that I -must tell you, is that God himself could not have done more for me than -you have this night." - -Poppea, who had been looking off into the sunrise, turned her head -quickly, and for the first time in months, found his eyes fixed full -upon her face before he could shift them. - -At last she knew! Leaving her hands in his, she leaned toward him, -murmuring in a voice so full of joy that it quivered as though strung -with tears:-- - -"Where is more rest than here? _I_ need you, Hugh!" - -Then to the one behind the closed door and to the two facing the dawn a -new life came on the wings of the morning. - - -THE END - - - - -NOVELS, ETC., BY "BARBARA" - -(MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT) - - -The Garden of a Commuter's Wife Illustrated - -"Reading it is like having the entry into a home of the class that is -the proudest product of our land, a home where love of books and love of -nature go hand in hand with hearty, simple love of 'folks.' ... It is a -charming book."--_The Interior._ - - -People of the Whirlpool Illustrated - -"The whole book is delicious, with its wise and kindly humor, its just -perspective of the true values of things, its clever pen pictures of -people and customs, and its healthy optimism for the great world in -general."--_Philadelphia Evening Telegraph._ - - -The Woman Errant - -"The book is worth reading. It will cause discussion. It is an -interesting fictional presentation of an important modern question, -treated with fascinating feminine adroitness."--Miss Jeannette Gilder in -the _Chicago Tribune_. - - -At the Sign of the Fox - -"Her little pictures of country life are fragrant with a genuine love of -nature, and there is fun as genuine in her notes on rural -character."--_New York Tribune._ - - -The Garden, You and I - -"This volume is simply the best she has yet put forth, and quite too -deliciously torturing to the reviewer, whose only garden is in Spain.... -The delightful humor which pervaded the earlier books, and without -which Barbara would not be Barbara, has lost nothing of its -poignancy."--_Congregationalist._ - - -The Open Window. Tales of the Months. - -"A little vacation from the sophistication of the -commonplace."--_Argonaut._ - - -Poppea of the Post Office - - * * * * * - -By EDEN PHILLPOTTS - - -The Three Brothers - -"'The Three Brothers' seems to us the best yet of the long series of -these remarkable Dartmoor tales. If Shakespeare had written novels we -can think that some of his pages would have been like some of these. -Here certainly is language, turn of humor, philosophical play, vigor of -incident such as might have come straight from Elizabeth's day.... The -story has its tragedy, but this is less dire, more reasonable than the -tragedy is in too many of Mr. Phillpotts's other tales. The book is full -of a very moving interest, and it is agreeable and beautiful."--_The New -York Sun._ - - -By Miss ELLEN GLASGOW - -The Romance of a Plain Man - -"From the first she has had the power to tell a strong story, full of -human interest, but as her work has continued it has shown an increasing -mellowness and sympathy. The atmosphere of this book is fascinating -indeed."--_Chicago Tribune._ - - -By FRANK DANBY - -The Heart of a Child - -BEING PASSAGES FROM THE EARLY LIFE OF SALLY SNAPE, LADY KIDDERMINSTER - -"'Frank Danby' has found herself. It is full of the old wit, the old -humor, the old epigram, and the old knowledge of what I may call the -Bohemia of London; but it is also full of a new quality, the quality of -imaginative tenderness and creative sympathy. It is delightful to watch -the growth of human character either in life or in literature, and in -'The Heart of a Child' one can see the brilliancy of Frank Danby -suddenly burgeoning into the wistfulness that makes cleverness soft and -exquisite and delicate.... It is a mixture of naturalism and romance, -and one detects in it the miraculous power ... of seeing things steadily -and seeing them wholly, with relentless humor and pitiless pathos. The -book is crowded with types, and they are all etched in with masterly -fidelity of vision and sureness of touch, with feminine subtlety as well -as virile audacity."--James Douglas in _The Star_, London. - - -Sebastian. A Son of Dreams. - - * * * * * - -Mr. ROBERT HERRICK'S NOVELS - - -The Gospel of Freedom - -"A novel that may truly be called the greatest study of social life, in -a broad and very much up-to-date sense, that has ever been contributed -to American fiction."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ - - -The Web of Life - -"It is strong in that it faithfully depicts many phases of American -life, and uses them to strengthen a web of fiction, which is most -artistically wrought out."--_Buffalo Express._ - - -Jock o' Dreams, or The Real World - -"The title of the book has a subtle intention. It indicates, and is true -to the verities in doing so, the strange dreamlike quality of life to -the man who has not yet fought his own battles, or come into conscious -possession of his will--only such battles bite into the -consciousness."--_Chicago Tribune._ - - -The Common Lot - -"It grips the reader tremendously.... It is the drama of a human soul -the reader watches ... the finest study of human motive that has -appeared for many a day."--_The World To-day._ - - -The Memoirs of an American Citizen. Illustrated with about fifty -drawings by F. B. Masters. - -"Mr. Herrick's book is a book among many, and he comes nearer to -reflecting a certain kind of recognizable, contemporaneous American -spirit than anybody has yet done."--_New York Times._ - -"Intensely absorbing as a story, it is also a crisp, vigorous document -of startling significance. More than any other writer to-day he is -giving us the American novel."--_New York Globe._ - - -Together - -"The thing is straight from life.... The spirit of the book is in the -end bracing and quickening."--_Chicago Evening Post._ - -"An able book, remarkably so, and one which should find a place in the -library of any woman who is not a fool."--_New York American._ - - * * * * * - -Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S NOVELS - - -Mr. Crewe's Career Illustrated - -"Another chapter in his broad, epical delineation of the American -spirit.... It is an honest and fair story.... It is very interesting; -and the heroine is a type of woman as fresh, original, and captivating -as any that has appeared in American novels for a long time past."--_The -Outlook_, New York. - -"Shows Mr. Churchill at his best. The flavor of his humor is of that -stimulating kind which asserts itself just the moment, as it were, after -it has passed the palate.... As for Victoria, she has that quality of -vivid freshness, tenderness, and independence which makes so many modern -American heroines delightful."--_The Times_, London. - - -The Celebrity. An Episode - -"No such piece of inimitable comedy in a literary way has appeared for -years.... It is the purest, keenest fun."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ - - -Richard Carvel Illustrated - -"... In breadth of canvas, massing of dramatic effect, depth of feeling, -and rare wholesomeness of spirit, it has seldom, if ever, been surpassed -by an American romance."--_Chicago Tribune._ - - -The Crossing Illustrated - -"'The Crossing' is a thoroughly interesting book, packed with exciting -adventure and sentimental incident, yet faithful to historical fact both -in detail and in spirit."--_The Dial._ - - -The Crisis Illustrated - -"It is a charming love story, and never loses its interest.... The -intense political bitterness, the intense patriotism of both parties, -are shown understandingly."--_Evening Telegraph_, Philadelphia. - - -Coniston Illustrated - -"'Coniston' has a lighter, gayer spirit and a deeper, tenderer touch -than Mr. Churchill has ever achieved before.... 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