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diff --git a/5340-h/5340-h.htm b/5340-h/5340-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d02d01e --- /dev/null +++ b/5340-h/5340-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9610 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Further Chronicles of Avonlea, by L. M. Montgomery + </title> + + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Further Chronicles of Avonlea, by Lucy Maud Montgomery + +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: Further Chronicles of Avonlea + +Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5340] +First Posted: July 2, 2002 +Last updated: April 4, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA *** + + + + +Etext produced by Leslee Suttee, Mary Mark Ockerbloom, Ben Crowder + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA + </h1> + <h2> + By L. M. Montgomery + </h2> + <blockquote> + <p> + Author of "Anne of Green Gables," "Anne of Avonlea," "Anne of the + Island," "Chronicles of Avonlea," "Kilmeny of the Orchard," etc. Which + have to do with many personalities and events in and about Avonlea, the + Home of the Heroine of Green Gables, including tales of Aunt Cynthia, + The Materializing of Cecil, David Spencer's Daughter, Jane's Baby, The + Failure of Robert Monroe, The Return of Hester, The Little Brown Book of + Miss Emily, Sara's Way, The Son of Thyra Carewe, The Education of Betty, + The Selflessness of Eunice Carr, The Dream-Child, The Conscience Case of + David Bell, Only a Common Fellow, and finally the story of Tannis of the + Flats. All related by + </p> + </blockquote> + <h3> + L. M. MONTGOMERY + </h3> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. AUNT CYNTHIA'S PERSIAN CAT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. THE MATERIALIZING OF CECIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. JANE'S BABY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. THE DREAM-CHILD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. THE BROTHER WHO FAILED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. THE RETURN OF HESTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. THE LITTLE BROWN BOOK OF MISS EMILY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. SARA'S WAY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. THE SON OF HIS MOTHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. THE EDUCATION OF BETTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. IN HER SELFLESS MOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. THE CONSCIENCE CASE OF DAVID BELL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. ONLY A COMMON FELLOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. TANNIS OF THE FLATS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + It is no exaggeration to say that what Longfellow did for Acadia, Miss + Montgomery has done for Prince Edward Island. More than a million readers, + young people as well as their parents and uncles and aunts, possess in the + picture-galleries of their memories the exquisite landscapes of Avonlea, + limned with as poetic a pencil as Longfellow wielded when he told the + ever-moving story of Grand Pre. + </p> + <p> + Only genius of the first water has the ability to conjure up such a + character as Anne Shirley, the heroine of Miss Montgomery's first novel, + "Anne of Green Gables," and to surround her with people so distinctive, so + real, so true to psychology. Anne is + </p> + <p> + as lovable a child as lives in all fiction. Natasha in Count Tolstoi's + great novel, "War and Peace," dances into our ken, with something of the + same buoyancy and naturalness; but into what a commonplace young woman she + develops! Anne, whether as the gay little orphan in her conquest of the + master and mistress of Green Gables, or as the maturing and self-forgetful + maiden of Avonlea, keeps up to concert-pitch in her charm and her + winsomeness. There is nothing in her to disappoint hope or imagination. + </p> + <p> + A part of the power of Miss Montgomery—and the largest part—is + due to her skill in compounding humor and pathos. The humor is honest and + golden; it never wearies the reader; the pathos is never sentimentalized, + never degenerates into bathos, is never morbid. This combination holds + throughout all her works, longer or shorter, and is particularly manifest + in the present collection of fifteen short stories, which, together with + those in the first volume of the Chronicles of Avonlea, present a series + of piquant and fascinating pictures of life in Prince Edward Island. + </p> + <p> + The humor is shown not only in the presentation of quaint and unique + characters, but also in the words which fall from their mouths. Aunt + Cynthia "always gave you the impression of a full-rigged ship coming + gallantly on before a favorable wind;" no further description is needed—only + one such personage could be found in Avonlea. You would recognize her at + sight. Ismay Meade's disposition is summed up when we are told that she is + "good at having presentiments—after things happen." What cleverer + embodiment of innate obstinacy than in Isabella Spencer—"a wisp of a + woman who looked as if a breath would sway her but was so set in her ways + that a tornado would hardly have caused her to swerve an inch from her + chosen path;" or than in Mrs. Eben Andrews (in "Sara's Way") who "looked + like a woman whose opinions were always very decided and warranted to + wear!" + </p> + <p> + This gift of characterization in a few words is lavished also on material + objects, as, for instance; what more is needed to describe the forlornness + of the home from which Anne was rescued than the statement that even the + trees around it "looked like orphans"? + </p> + <p> + The poetic touch, too, never fails in the right place and is never too + frequently introduced in her descriptions. They throw a glamor over that + Northern land which otherwise you might imagine as rather cold and barren. + What charming Springs they must have there! One sees all the fruit-trees + clad in bridal garments of pink and white; and what a translucent sky + smiles down on the ponds and the reaches of bay and cove! + </p> + <p> + "The Eastern sky was a great arc of crystal, smitten through with auroral + crimsonings." + </p> + <p> + "She was as slim and lithe as a young white-stemmed birch-tree; her hair + was like a soft dusky cloud, and her eyes were as blue as Avonlea Harbor + in a fair twilight, when all the sky is a-bloom over it." + </p> + <p> + Sentiment with a humorous touch to it prevails in the first two stories of + the present book. The one relates to the disappearance of a valuable white + Persian cat with a blue spot in its tail. "Fatima" is like the apple of + her eye to the rich old aunt who leaves her with two nieces, with a stern + injunction not to let her out of the house. Of course both Sue and Ismay + detest cats; Ismay hates them, Sue loathes them; but Aunt Cynthia's favor + is worth preserving. You become as much interested in Fatima's fate as if + she were your own pet, and the climax is no less unexpected than it is + natural, especially when it is made also the last act of a pretty comedy + of love. + </p> + <p> + Miss Montgomery delights in depicting the romantic episodes hidden in the + hearts of elderly spinsters as, for instance, in the case of Charlotte + Holmes, whose maid Nancy would have sent for the doctor and subjected her + to a porous plaster while waiting for him, had she known that up stairs + there was a note-book full of original poems. Rather than bear the stigma + of never having had a love-affair, this sentimental lady invents one to + tell her mocking young friends. The dramatic and unexpected denouement is + delightful fun. + </p> + <p> + Another note-book reveals a deeper romance in the case of Miss Emily; this + is related by Anne of Green Gables, who once or twice flashes across the + scene, though for the most part her friends and neighbors at White Sands + or Newbridge or Grafton as well as at Avonlea are the persons involved. + </p> + <p> + In one story, the last, "Tannis of the Flats," the secret of Elinor + Blair's spinsterhood is revealed in an episode which carries the reader + from Avonlea to Saskatchewan and shows the unselfish devotion of a + half-breed Indian girl. The story is both poignant and dramatic. Its one + touch of humor is where Jerome Carey curses his fate in being compelled to + live in that desolate land in "the picturesque language permissible in the + far Northwest." + </p> + <p> + Self-sacrifice, as the real basis of happiness, is a favorite theme in + Miss Montgomery's fiction. It is raised to the nth power in the story + entitled, "In Her Selfless Mood," where an ugly, misshapen girl devotes + her life and renounces marriage for the sake of looking after her weak and + selfish half-brother. The same spirit is found in "Only a Common Fellow," + who is haloed with a certain splendor by renouncing the girl he was to + marry in favor of his old rival, supposed to have been killed in France, + but happily delivered from that tragic fate. + </p> + <p> + Miss Montgomery loves to introduce a little child or a baby as a solvent + of old feuds or domestic quarrels. In "The Dream Child," a foundling boy, + drifting in through a storm in a dory, saves a heart-broken mother from + insanity. In "Jane's Baby," a baby-cousin brings reconciliation between + the two sisters, Rosetta and Carlotta, who had not spoken for twenty years + because "the slack-twisted" Jacob married the younger of the two. + </p> + <p> + Happiness generally lights up the end of her stories, however tragic they + may set out to be. In "The Son of His Mother," Thyra is a stern woman, as + "immovable as a stone image." She had only one son, whom she worshipped; + "she never wanted a daughter, but she pitied and despised all sonless + women." She demanded absolute obedience from Chester—not only + obedience, but also utter affection, and she hated his dog because the boy + loved him: "She could not share her love even with a dumb brute." When + Chester falls in love, she is relentless toward the beautiful young girl + and forces Chester to give her up. But a terrible sorrow brings the old + woman and the young girl into sympathy, and unspeakable joy is born of the + trial. + </p> + <p> + Happiness also comes to "The Brother who Failed." The Monroes had all been + successful in the eyes of the world except Robert: one is a millionaire, + another a college president, another a famous singer. Robert overhears the + old aunt, Isabel, call him a total failure, but, at the family dinner, one + after another stands up and tells how Robert's quiet influence and + unselfish aid had started them in their brilliant careers, and the old + aunt, wiping the tears from her eyes, exclaims: "I guess there's a kind of + failure that's the best success." + </p> + <p> + In one story there is an element of the supernatural, when Hester, the + hard older sister, comes between Margaret and her lover and, dying, makes + her promise never to become Hugh Blair's wife, but she comes back and + unites them. In this, Margaret, just like the delightful Anne, lives up to + the dictum that "nothing matters in all God's universe except love." The + story of the revival at Avonlea has also a good moral. + </p> + <p> + There is something in these continued Chronicles of Avonlea, like the + delicate art which has made "Cranford" a classic: the characters are so + homely and homelike and yet tinged with beautiful romance! You feel that + you are made familiar with a real town and its real inhabitants; you learn + to love them and sympathize with them. Further Chronicles of Avonlea is a + book to read; and to know. + </p> + <p> + NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. AUNT CYNTHIA'S PERSIAN CAT + </h2> + <p> + Max always blesses the animal when it is referred to; and I don't deny + that things have worked together for good after all. But when I think of + the anguish of mind which Ismay and I underwent on account of that + abominable cat, it is not a blessing that arises uppermost in my thoughts. + </p> + <p> + I never was fond of cats, although I admit they are well enough in their + place, and I can worry along comfortably with a nice, matronly old tabby + who can take care of herself and be of some use in the world. As for + Ismay, she hates cats and always did. + </p> + <p> + But Aunt Cynthia, who adored them, never could bring herself to understand + that any one could possibly dislike them. She firmly believed that Ismay + and I really liked cats deep down in our hearts, but that, owing to some + perverse twist in our moral natures, we would not own up to it, but + willfully persisted in declaring we didn't. + </p> + <p> + Of all cats I loathed that white Persian cat of Aunt Cynthia's. And, + indeed, as we always suspected and finally proved, Aunt herself looked + upon the creature with more pride than affection. She would have taken ten + times the comfort in a good, common puss that she did in that spoiled + beauty. But a Persian cat with a recorded pedigree and a market value of + one hundred dollars tickled Aunt Cynthia's pride of possession to such an + extent that she deluded herself into believing that the animal was really + the apple of her eye. + </p> + <p> + It had been presented to her when a kitten by a missionary nephew who had + brought it all the way home from Persia; and for the next three years Aunt + Cynthia's household existed to wait on that cat, hand and foot. It was + snow-white, with a bluish-gray spot on the tip of its tail; and it was + blue-eyed and deaf and delicate. Aunt Cynthia was always worrying lest it + should take cold and die. Ismay and I used to wish that it would—we + were so tired of hearing about it and its whims. But we did not say so to + Aunt Cynthia. She would probably never have spoken to us again and there + was no wisdom in offending Aunt Cynthia. When you have an unencumbered + aunt, with a fat bank account, it is just as well to keep on good terms + with her, if you can. Besides, we really liked Aunt Cynthia very much—at + times. Aunt Cynthia was one of those rather exasperating people who nag at + and find fault with you until you think you are justified in hating them, + and who then turn round and do something so really nice and kind for you + that you feel as if you were compelled to love them dutifully instead. + </p> + <p> + So we listened meekly when she discoursed on Fatima—the cat's name + was Fatima—and, if it was wicked of us to wish for the latter's + decease, we were well punished for it later on. + </p> + <p> + One day, in November, Aunt Cynthia came sailing out to Spencervale. She + really came in a phaeton, drawn by a fat gray pony, but somehow Aunt + Cynthia always gave you the impression of a full rigged ship coming + gallantly on before a favorable wind. + </p> + <p> + That was a Jonah day for us all through. Everything had gone wrong. Ismay + had spilled grease on her velvet coat, and the fit of the new blouse I was + making was hopelessly askew, and the kitchen stove smoked and the bread + was sour. Moreover, Huldah Jane Keyson, our tried and trusty old family + nurse and cook and general "boss," had what she called the "realagy" in + her shoulder; and, though Huldah Jane is as good an old creature as ever + lived, when she has the "realagy" other people who are in the house want + to get out of it and, if they can't, feel about as comfortable as St. + Lawrence on his gridiron. + </p> + <p> + And on top of this came Aunt Cynthia's call and request. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me," said Aunt Cynthia, sniffing, "don't I smell smoke? You girls + must manage your range very badly. Mine never smokes. But it is no more + than one might expect when two girls try to keep house without a man about + the place." + </p> + <p> + "We get along very well without a man about the place," I said loftily. + Max hadn't been in for four whole days and, though nobody wanted to see + him particularly, I couldn't help wondering why. "Men are nuisances." + </p> + <p> + "I dare say you would like to pretend you think so," said Aunt Cynthia, + aggravatingly. "But no woman ever does really think so, you know. I + imagine that pretty Anne Shirley, who is visiting Ella Kimball, doesn't. I + saw her and Dr. Irving out walking this afternoon, looking very well + satisfied with themselves. If you dilly-dally much longer, Sue, you will + let Max slip through your fingers yet." + </p> + <p> + That was a tactful thing to say to ME, who had refused Max Irving so often + that I had lost count. I was furious, and so I smiled most sweetly on my + maddening aunt. + </p> + <p> + "Dear Aunt, how amusing of you," I said, smoothly. "You talk as if I + wanted Max." + </p> + <p> + "So you do," said Aunt Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + "If so, why should I have refused him time and again?" I asked, smilingly. + Right well Aunt Cynthia knew I had. Max always told her. + </p> + <p> + "Goodness alone knows why," said Aunt Cynthia, "but you may do it once too + often and find yourself taken at your word. There is something very + fascinating about this Anne Shirley." + </p> + <p> + "Indeed there is," I assented. "She has the loveliest eyes I ever saw. She + would be just the wife for Max, and I hope he will marry her." + </p> + <p> + "Humph," said Aunt Cynthia. "Well, I won't entice you into telling any + more fibs. And I didn't drive out here to-day in all this wind to talk + sense into you concerning Max. I'm going to Halifax for two months and I + want you to take charge of Fatima for me, while I am away." + </p> + <p> + "Fatima!" I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I don't dare to trust her with the servants. Mind you always warm + her milk before you give it to her, and don't on any account let her run + out of doors." + </p> + <p> + I looked at Ismay and Ismay looked at me. We knew we were in for it. To + refuse would mortally offend Aunt Cynthia. Besides, if I betrayed any + unwillingness, Aunt Cynthia would be sure to put it down to grumpiness + over what she had said about Max, and rub it in for years. But I ventured + to ask, "What if anything happens to her while you are away?" + </p> + <p> + "It is to prevent that, I'm leaving her with you," said Aunt Cynthia. "You + simply must not let anything happen to her. It will do you good to have a + little responsibility. And you will have a chance to find out what an + adorable creature Fatima really is. Well, that is all settled. I'll send + Fatima out to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "You can take care of that horrid Fatima beast yourself," said Ismay, when + the door closed behind Aunt Cynthia. "I won't touch her with a yard-stick. + You had no business to say we'd take her." + </p> + <p> + "Did I say we would take her?" I demanded, crossly. "Aunt Cynthia took our + consent for granted. And you know, as well as I do, we couldn't have + refused. So what is the use of being grouchy?" + </p> + <p> + "If anything happens to her Aunt Cynthia will hold us responsible," said + Ismay darkly. + </p> + <p> + "Do you think Anne Shirley is really engaged to Gilbert Blythe?" I asked + curiously. + </p> + <p> + "I've heard that she was," said Ismay, absently. "Does she eat anything + but milk? Will it do to give her mice?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I guess so. But do you think Max has really fallen in love with her?" + </p> + <p> + "I dare say. What a relief it will be for you if he has." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, of course," I said, frostily. "Anne Shirley or Anne Anybody Else, is + perfectly welcome to Max if she wants him. <i>I</i> certainly do not. + Ismay Meade, if that stove doesn't stop smoking I shall fly into bits. + This is a detestable day. I hate that creature!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you shouldn't talk like that, when you don't even know her," + protested Ismay. "Every one says Anne Shirley is lovely—" + </p> + <p> + "I was talking about Fatima," I cried in a rage. + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" said Ismay. + </p> + <p> + Ismay is stupid at times. I thought the way she said "Oh" was inexcusably + stupid. + </p> + <p> + Fatima arrived the next day. Max brought her out in a covered basket, + lined with padded crimson satin. Max likes cats and Aunt Cynthia. He + explained how we were to treat Fatima and when Ismay had gone out of the + room—Ismay always went out of the room when she knew I particularly + wanted her to remain—he proposed to me again. Of course I said no, + as usual, but I was rather pleased. Max had been proposing to me about + every two months for two years. Sometimes, as in this case, he went three + months, and then I always wondered why. I concluded that he could not be + really interested in Anne Shirley, and I was relieved. I didn't want to + marry Max but it was pleasant and convenient to have him around, and we + would miss him dreadfully if any other girl snapped him up. He was so + useful and always willing to do anything for us—nail a shingle on + the roof, drive us to town, put down carpets—in short, a very + present help in all our troubles. + </p> + <p> + So I just beamed on him when I said no. Max began counting on his fingers. + When he got as far as eight he shook his head and began over again. + </p> + <p> + "What is it?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "I'm trying to count up how many times I have proposed to you," he said. + "But I can't remember whether I asked you to marry me that day we dug up + the garden or not. If I did it makes—" + </p> + <p> + "No, you didn't," I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + "Well, that makes it eleven," said Max reflectively. "Pretty near the + limit, isn't it? My manly pride will not allow me to propose to the same + girl more than twelve times. So the next time will be the last, Sue + darling." + </p> + <p> + "Oh," I said, a trifle flatly. I forgot to resent his calling me darling. + I wondered if things wouldn't be rather dull when Max gave up proposing to + me. It was the only excitement I had. But of course it would be best—and + he couldn't go on at it forever, so, by the way of gracefully dismissing + the subject, I asked him what Miss Shirley was like. + </p> + <p> + "Very sweet girl," said Max. "You know I always admired those gray-eyed + girls with that splendid Titian hair." + </p> + <p> + I am dark, with brown eyes. Just then I detested Max. I got up and said I + was going to get some milk for Fatima. + </p> + <p> + I found Ismay in a rage in the kitchen. She had been up in the garret, and + a mouse had run across her foot. Mice always get on Ismay's nerves. + </p> + <p> + "We need a cat badly enough," she fumed, "but not a useless, pampered + thing, like Fatima. That garret is literally swarming with mice. You'll + not catch me going up there again." + </p> + <p> + Fatima did not prove such a nuisance as we had feared. Huldah Jane liked + her, and Ismay, in spite of her declaration that she would have nothing to + do with her, looked after her comfort scrupulously. She even used to get + up in the middle of the night and go out to see if Fatima was warm. Max + came in every day and, being around, gave us good advice. + </p> + <p> + Then one day, about three weeks after Aunt Cynthia's departure, Fatima + disappeared—just simply disappeared as if she had been dissolved + into thin air. We left her one afternoon, curled up asleep in her basket + by the fire, under Huldah Jane's eye, while we went out to make a call. + When we came home Fatima was gone. + </p> + <p> + Huldah Jane wept and was as one whom the gods had made mad. She vowed that + she had never let Fatima out of her sight the whole time, save once for + three minutes when she ran up to the garret for some summer savory. When + she came back the kitchen door had blown open and Fatima had vanished. + </p> + <p> + Ismay and I were frantic. We ran about the garden and through the + out-houses, and the woods behind the house, like wild creatures, calling + Fatima, but in vain. Then Ismay sat down on the front doorsteps and cried. + </p> + <p> + "She has got out and she'll catch her death of cold and Aunt Cynthia will + never forgive us." + </p> + <p> + "I'm going for Max," I declared. So I did, through the spruce woods and + over the field as fast as my feet could carry me, thanking my stars that + there was a Max to go to in such a predicament. + </p> + <p> + Max came over and we had another search, but without result. Days passed, + but we did not find Fatima. I would certainly have gone crazy had it not + been for Max. He was worth his weight in gold during the awful week that + followed. We did not dare advertise, lest Aunt Cynthia should see it; but + we inquired far and wide for a white Persian cat with a blue spot on its + tail, and offered a reward for it; but nobody had seen it, although people + kept coming to the house, night and day, with every kind of a cat in + baskets, wanting to know if it was the one we had lost. + </p> + <p> + "We shall never see Fatima again," I said hopelessly to Max and Ismay one + afternoon. I had just turned away an old woman with a big, yellow tommy + which she insisted must be ours—"cause it kem to our place, mem, + a-yowling fearful, mem, and it don't belong to nobody not down Grafton + way, mem." + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid you won't," said Max. "She must have perished from exposure + long ere this." + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Cynthia will never forgive us," said Ismay, dismally. "I had a + presentiment of trouble the moment that cat came to this house." + </p> + <p> + We had never heard of this presentiment before, but Ismay is good at + having presentiments—after things happen. + </p> + <p> + "What shall we do?" I demanded, helplessly. "Max, can't you find some way + out of this scrape for us?" + </p> + <p> + "Advertise in the Charlottetown papers for a white Persian cat," suggested + Max. "Some one may have one for sale. If so, you must buy it, and palm it + off on your good Aunt as Fatima. She's very short-sighted, so it will be + quite possible." + </p> + <p> + "But Fatima has a blue spot on her tail," I said. + </p> + <p> + "You must advertise for a cat with a blue spot on its tail," said Max. + </p> + <p> + "It will cost a pretty penny," said Ismay dolefully. "Fatima was valued at + one hundred dollars." + </p> + <p> + "We must take the money we have been saving for our new furs," I said + sorrowfully. "There is no other way out of it. It will cost us a good deal + more if we lose Aunt Cynthia's favor. She is quite capable of believing + that we have made away with Fatima deliberately and with malice + aforethought." + </p> + <p> + So we advertised. Max went to town and had the notice inserted in the most + important daily. We asked any one who had a white Persian cat, with a blue + spot on the tip of its tail, to dispose of, to communicate with M. I., + care of the <i>Enterprise</i>. + </p> + <p> + We really did not have much hope that anything would come of it, so we + were surprised and delighted over the letter Max brought home from town + four days later. It was a type-written screed from Halifax stating that + the writer had for sale a white Persian cat answering to our description. + The price was a hundred and ten dollars, and, if M. I. cared to go to + Halifax and inspect the animal, it would be found at 110 Hollis Street, by + inquiring for "Persian." + </p> + <p> + "Temper your joy, my friends," said Ismay, gloomily. "The cat may not + suit. The blue spot may be too big or too small or not in the right place. + I consistently refuse to believe that any good thing can come out of this + deplorable affair." + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment there was a knock at the door and I hurried out. The + postmaster's boy was there with a telegram. I tore it open, glanced at it, + and dashed back into the room. + </p> + <p> + "What is it now?" cried Ismay, beholding my face. + </p> + <p> + I held out the telegram. It was from Aunt Cynthia. She had wired us to + send Fatima to Halifax by express immediately. + </p> + <p> + For the first time Max did not seem ready to rush into the breach with a + suggestion. It was I who spoke first. + </p> + <p> + "Max," I said, imploringly, "you'll see us through this, won't you? + Neither Ismay nor I can rush off to Halifax at once. You must go to-morrow + morning. Go right to 110 Hollis Street and ask for 'Persian.' If the cat + looks enough like Fatima, buy it and take it to Aunt Cynthia. If it + doesn't—but it must! You'll go, won't you?" + </p> + <p> + "That depends," said Max. + </p> + <p> + I stared at him. This was so unlike Max. + </p> + <p> + "You are sending me on a nasty errand," he said, coolly. "How do I know + that Aunt Cynthia will be deceived after all, even if she be + short-sighted. Buying a cat in a joke is a huge risk. And if she should + see through the scheme I shall be in a pretty mess." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Max," I said, on the verge of tears. + </p> + <p> + "Of course," said Max, looking meditatively into the fire, "if I were + really one of the family, or had any reasonable prospect of being so, I + would not mind so much. It would be all in the day's work then. But as it + is—" + </p> + <p> + Ismay got up and went out of the room. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Max, please," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Will you marry me, Sue?" demanded Max sternly. "If you will agree, I'll + go to Halifax and beard the lion in his den unflinchingly. If necessary, I + will take a black street cat to Aunt Cynthia, and swear that it is Fatima. + I'll get you out of the scrape, if I have to prove that you never had + Fatima, that she is safe in your possession at the present time, and that + there never was such an animal as Fatima anyhow. I'll do anything, say + anything—but it must be for my future wife." + </p> + <p> + "Will nothing else content you?" I said helplessly. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing." + </p> + <p> + I thought hard. Of course Max was acting abominably—but—but—he + was really a dear fellow—and this was the twelfth time—and + there was Anne Shirley! I knew in my secret soul that life would be a + dreadfully dismal thing if Max were not around somewhere. Besides, I would + have married him long ago had not Aunt Cynthia thrown us so pointedly at + each other's heads ever since he came to Spencervale. + </p> + <p> + "Very well," I said crossly. + </p> + <p> + Max left for Halifax in the morning. Next day we got a wire saying it was + all right. The evening of the following day he was back in Spencervale. + Ismay and I put him in a chair and glared at him impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Max began to laugh and laughed until he turned blue. + </p> + <p> + "I am glad it is so amusing," said Ismay severely. "If Sue and I could see + the joke it might be more so." + </p> + <p> + "Dear little girls, have patience with me," implored Max. "If you knew + what it cost me to keep a straight face in Halifax you would forgive me + for breaking out now." + </p> + <p> + "We forgive you—but for pity's sake tell us all about it," I cried. + </p> + <p> + "Well, as soon as I arrived in Halifax I hurried to 110 Hollis Street, but—see + here! Didn't you tell me your Aunt's address was 10 Pleasant Street?" + </p> + <p> + "So it is." + </p> + <p> + "'T isn't. You look at the address on a telegram next time you get one. + She went a week ago to visit another friend who lives at 110 Hollis." + </p> + <p> + "Max!" + </p> + <p> + "It's a fact. I rang the bell, and was just going to ask the maid for + 'Persian' when your Aunt Cynthia herself came through the hall and pounced + on me." + </p> + <p> + "'Max,' she said, 'have you brought Fatima?' + </p> + <p> + "'No,' I answered, trying to adjust my wits to this new development as she + towed me into the library. 'No, I—I—just came to Halifax on a + little matter of business.' + </p> + <p> + "'Dear me,' said Aunt Cynthia, crossly, 'I don't know what those girls + mean. I wired them to send Fatima at once. And she has not come yet and I + am expecting a call every minute from some one who wants to buy her.' + </p> + <p> + "'Oh!' I murmured, mining deeper every minute. + </p> + <p> + "'Yes,' went on your aunt, 'there is an advertisement in the Charlottetown + <i>Enterprise</i> for a Persian cat, and I answered it. Fatima is really + quite a charge, you know—and so apt to die and be a dead loss,'—did + your aunt mean a pun, girls?—'and so, although I am considerably + attached to her, I have decided to part with her.' + </p> + <p> + "By this time I had got my second wind, and I promptly decided that a + judicious mixture of the truth was the thing required. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, of all the curious coincidences,' I exclaimed. 'Why, Miss Ridley, + it was I who advertised for a Persian cat—on Sue's behalf. She and + Ismay have decided that they want a cat like Fatima for themselves.' + </p> + <p> + "You should have seen how she beamed. She said she knew you always really + liked cats, only you would never own up to it. We clinched the dicker then + and there. I passed her over your hundred and ten dollars—she took + the money without turning a hair—and now you are the joint owners of + Fatima. Good luck to your bargain!" + </p> + <p> + "Mean old thing," sniffed Ismay. She meant Aunt Cynthia, and, remembering + our shabby furs, I didn't disagree with her. + </p> + <p> + "But there is no Fatima," I said, dubiously. "How shall we account for her + when Aunt Cynthia comes home?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, your aunt isn't coming home for a month yet. When she comes you + will have to tell her that the cat—is lost—but you needn't say + WHEN it happened. As for the rest, Fatima is your property now, so Aunt + Cynthia can't grumble. But she will have a poorer opinion than ever of + your fitness to run a house alone." + </p> + <p> + When Max left I went to the window to watch him down the path. He was + really a handsome fellow, and I was proud of him. At the gate he turned to + wave me good-by, and, as he did, he glanced upward. Even at that distance + I saw the look of amazement on his face. Then he came bolting back. + </p> + <p> + "Ismay, the house is on fire!" I shrieked, as I flew to the door. + </p> + <p> + "Sue," cried Max, "I saw Fatima, or her ghost, at the garret window a + moment ago!" + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense!" I cried. But Ismay was already half way up the stairs and we + followed. Straight to the garret we rushed. There sat Fatima, sleek and + complacent, sunning herself in the window. + </p> + <p> + Max laughed until the rafters rang. + </p> + <p> + "She can't have been up here all this time," I protested, half tearfully. + "We would have heard her meowing." + </p> + <p> + "But you didn't," said Max. + </p> + <p> + "She would have died of the cold," declared Ismay. + </p> + <p> + "But she hasn't," said Max. + </p> + <p> + "Or starved," I cried. + </p> + <p> + "The place is alive with mice," said Max. "No, girls, there is no doubt + the cat has been here the whole fortnight. She must have followed Huldah + Jane up here, unobserved, that day. It's a wonder you didn't hear her + crying—if she did cry. But perhaps she didn't, and, of course, you + sleep downstairs. To think you never thought of looking here for her!" + </p> + <p> + "It has cost us over a hundred dollars," said Ismay, with a malevolent + glance at the sleek Fatima. + </p> + <p> + "It has cost me more than that," I said, as I turned to the stairway. + </p> + <p> + Max held me back for an instant, while Ismay and Fatima pattered down. + </p> + <p> + "Do you think it has cost too much, Sue?" he whispered. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him sideways. He was really a dear. Niceness fairly exhaled + from him. + </p> + <p> + "No-o-o," I said, "but when we are married you will have to take care of + Fatima, <i>I</i> won't." + </p> + <p> + "Dear Fatima," said Max gratefully. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE MATERIALIZING OF CECIL + </h2> + <p> + It had never worried me in the least that I wasn't married, although + everybody in Avonlea pitied old maids; but it DID worry me, and I frankly + confess it, that I had never had a chance to be. Even Nancy, my old nurse + and servant, knew that, and pitied me for it. Nancy is an old maid + herself, but she has had two proposals. She did not accept either of them + because one was a widower with seven children, and the other a very + shiftless, good-for-nothing fellow; but, if anybody twitted Nancy on her + single condition, she could point triumphantly to those two as evidence + that "she could an she would." If I had not lived all my life in Avonlea I + might have had the benefit of the doubt; but I had, and everybody knew + everything about me—or thought they did. + </p> + <p> + I had really often wondered why nobody had ever fallen in love with me. I + was not at all homely; indeed, years ago, George Adoniram Maybrick had + written a poem addressed to me, in which he praised my beauty quite + extravagantly; that didn't mean anything because George Adoniram wrote + poetry to all the good-looking girls and never went with anybody but Flora + King, who was cross-eyed and red-haired, but it proves that it was not my + appearance that put me out of the running. Neither was it the fact that I + wrote poetry myself—although not of George Adoniram's kind—because + nobody ever knew that. When I felt it coming on I shut myself up in my + room and wrote it out in a little blank book I kept locked up. It is + nearly full now, because I have been writing poetry all my life. It is the + only thing I have ever been able to keep a secret from Nancy. Nancy, in + any case, has not a very high opinion of my ability to take care of + myself; but I tremble to imagine what she would think if she ever found + out about that little book. I am convinced she would send for the doctor + post-haste and insist on mustard plasters while waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I kept on at it, and what with my flowers and my cats and my + magazines and my little book, I was really very happy and contented. But + it DID sting that Adella Gilbert, across the road, who has a drunken + husband, should pity "poor Charlotte" because nobody had ever wanted her. + Poor Charlotte indeed! If I had thrown myself at a man's head the way + Adella Gilbert did at—but there, there, I must refrain from such + thoughts. I must not be uncharitable. + </p> + <p> + The Sewing Circle met at Mary Gillespie's on my fortieth birthday. I have + given up talking about my birthdays, although that little scheme is not + much good in Avonlea where everybody knows your age—or if they make + a mistake it is never on the side of youth. But Nancy, who grew accustomed + to celebrating my birthdays when I was a little girl, never gets over the + habit, and I don't try to cure her, because, after all, it's nice to have + some one make a fuss over you. She brought me up my breakfast before I got + up out of bed—a concession to my laziness that Nancy would scorn to + make on any other day of the year. She had cooked everything I like best, + and had decorated the tray with roses from the garden and ferns from the + woods behind the house. I enjoyed every bit of that breakfast, and then I + got up and dressed, putting on my second best muslin gown. I would have + put on my really best if I had not had the fear of Nancy before my eyes; + but I knew she would never condone THAT, even on a birthday. I watered my + flowers and fed my cats, and then I locked myself up and wrote a poem on + June. I had given up writing birthday odes after I was thirty. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon I went to the Sewing Circle. When I was ready for it I + looked in my glass and wondered if I could really be forty. I was quite + sure I didn't look it. My hair was brown and wavy, my cheeks were pink, + and the lines could hardly be seen at all, though possibly that was + because of the dim light. I always have my mirror hung in the darkest + corner of my room. Nancy cannot imagine why. I know the lines are there, + of course; but when they don't show very plain I forget that they are + there. + </p> + <p> + We had a large Sewing Circle, young and old alike attending. I really + cannot say I ever enjoyed the meetings—at least not up to that time—although + I went religiously because I thought it my duty to go. The married women + talked so much of their husbands and children, and of course I had to be + quiet on those topics; and the young girls talked in corner groups about + their beaux, and stopped it when I joined them, as if they felt sure that + an old maid who had never had a beau couldn't understand at all. As for + the other old maids, they talked gossip about every one, and I did not + like that either. I knew the minute my back was turned they would fasten + into me and hint that I used hair-dye and declare it was perfectly + ridiculous for a woman of FIFTY to wear a pink muslin dress with + lace-trimmed frills. + </p> + <p> + There was a full attendance that day, for we were getting ready for a sale + of fancy work in aid of parsonage repairs. The young girls were merrier + and noisier than usual. Wilhelmina Mercer was there, and she kept them + going. The Mercers were quite new to Avonlea, having come here only two + months previously. + </p> + <p> + I was sitting by the window and Wilhelmina Mercer, Maggie Henderson, + Susette Cross and Georgie Hall were in a little group just before me. I + wasn't listening to their chatter at all, but presently Georgie exclaimed + teasingly: + </p> + <p> + "Miss Charlotte is laughing at us. I suppose she thinks we are awfully + silly to be talking about beaux." + </p> + <p> + The truth was that I was simply smiling over some very pretty thoughts + that had come to me about the roses which were climbing over Mary + Gillespie's sill. I meant to inscribe them in the little blank book when I + went home. Georgie's speech brought me back to harsh realities with a + jolt. It hurt me, as such speeches always did. + </p> + <p> + "Didn't you ever have a beau, Miss Holmes?" said Wilhelmina laughingly. + </p> + <p> + Just as it happened, a silence had fallen over the room for a moment, and + everybody in it heard Wilhelmina's question. + </p> + <p> + I really do not know what got into me and possessed me. I have never been + able to account for what I said and did, because I am naturally a truthful + person and hate all deceit. It seemed to me that I simply could not say + "No" to Wilhelmina before that whole roomful of women. It was TOO + humiliating. I suppose all the prickles and stings and slurs I had endured + for fifteen years on account of never having had a lover had what the new + doctor calls "a cumulative effect" and came to a head then and there. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I had one once, my dear," I said calmly. + </p> + <p> + For once in my life I made a sensation. Every woman in that room stopped + sewing and stared at me. Most of them, I saw, didn't believe me, but + Wilhelmina did. Her pretty face lighted up with interest. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, won't you tell us about him, Miss Holmes?" she coaxed, "and why + didn't you marry him?" + </p> + <p> + "That is right, Miss Mercer," said Josephine Cameron, with a nasty little + laugh. "Make her tell. We're all interested. It's news to us that + Charlotte ever had a beau." + </p> + <p> + If Josephine had not said that, I might not have gone on. But she did say + it, and, moreover, I caught Mary Gillespie and Adella Gilbert exchanging + significant smiles. That settled it, and made me quite reckless. "In for a + penny, in for a pound," thought I, and I said with a pensive smile: + </p> + <p> + "Nobody here knew anything about him, and it was all long, long ago." + </p> + <p> + "What was his name?" asked Wilhelmina. + </p> + <p> + "Cecil Fenwick," I answered promptly. Cecil had always been my favorite + name for a man; it figured quite frequently in the blank book. As for the + Fenwick part of it, I had a bit of newspaper in my hand, measuring a hem, + with "Try Fenwick's Porous Plasters" printed across it, and I simply + joined the two in sudden and irrevocable matrimony. + </p> + <p> + "Where did you meet him?" asked Georgie. + </p> + <p> + I hastily reviewed my past. There was only one place to locate Cecil + Fenwick. The only time I had ever been far enough away from Avonlea in my + life was when I was eighteen and had gone to visit an aunt in New + Brunswick. + </p> + <p> + "In Blakely, New Brunswick," I said, almost believing that I had when I + saw how they all took it in unsuspectingly. "I was just eighteen and he + was twenty-three." + </p> + <p> + "What did he look like?" Susette wanted to know. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he was very handsome." I proceeded glibly to sketch my ideal. To tell + the dreadful truth, I was enjoying myself; I could see respect dawning in + those girls' eyes, and I knew that I had forever thrown off my reproach. + Henceforth I should be a woman with a romantic past, faithful to the one + love of her life—a very, very different thing from an old maid who + had never had a lover. + </p> + <p> + "He was tall and dark, with lovely, curly black hair and brilliant, + piercing eyes. He had a splendid chin, and a fine nose, and the most + fascinating smile!" + </p> + <p> + "What was he?" asked Maggie. + </p> + <p> + "A young lawyer," I said, my choice of profession decided by an enlarged + crayon portrait of Mary Gillespie's deceased brother on an easel before + me. He had been a lawyer. + </p> + <p> + "Why didn't you marry him?" demanded Susette. + </p> + <p> + "We quarreled," I answered sadly. "A terribly bitter quarrel. Oh, we were + both so young and so foolish. It was my fault. I vexed Cecil by flirting + with another man"—wasn't I coming on!—"and he was jealous and + angry. He went out West and never came back. I have never seen him since, + and I do not even know if he is alive. But—but—I could never + care for any other man." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, how interesting!" sighed Wilhelmina. "I do so love sad love stories. + But perhaps he will come back some day yet, Miss Holmes." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, never now," I said, shaking my head. "He has forgotten all about + me, I dare say. Or if he hasn't, he has never forgiven me." + </p> + <p> + Mary Gillespie's Susan Jane announced tea at this moment, and I was + thankful, for my imagination was giving out, and I didn't know what + question those girls would ask next. But I felt already a change in the + mental atmosphere surrounding me, and all through supper I was thrilled + with a secret exultation. Repentant? Ashamed? Not a bit of it! I'd have + done the same thing over again, and all I felt sorry for was that I hadn't + done it long ago. + </p> + <p> + When I got home that night Nancy looked at me wonderingly, and said: + </p> + <p> + "You look like a girl to-night, Miss Charlotte." + </p> + <p> + "I feel like one," I said laughing; and I ran to my room and did what I + had never done before—wrote a second poem in the same day. I had to + have some outlet for my feelings. I called it "In Summer Days of Long + Ago," and I worked Mary Gillespie's roses and Cecil Fenwick's eyes into + it, and made it so sad and reminiscent and minor-musicky that I felt + perfectly happy. + </p> + <p> + For the next two months all went well and merrily. Nobody ever said + anything more to me about Cecil Fenwick, but the girls all chattered + freely to me of their little love affairs, and I became a sort of general + confidant for them. It just warmed up the cockles of my heart, and I began + to enjoy the Sewing Circle famously. I got a lot of pretty new dresses and + the dearest hat, and I went everywhere I was asked and had a good time. + </p> + <p> + But there is one thing you can be perfectly sure of. If you do wrong you + are going to be punished for it sometime, somehow and somewhere. My + punishment was delayed for two months, and then it descended on my head + and I was crushed to the very dust. + </p> + <p> + Another new family besides the Mercers had come to Avonlea in the spring—the + Maxwells. There were just Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell; they were a middle-aged + couple and very well off. Mr. Maxwell had bought the lumber mills, and + they lived up at the old Spencer place which had always been "the" place + of Avonlea. They lived quietly, and Mrs. Maxwell hardly ever went anywhere + because she was delicate. She was out when I called and I was out when she + returned my call, so that I had never met her. + </p> + <p> + It was the Sewing Circle day again—at Sarah Gardiner's this time. I + was late; everybody else was there when I arrived, and the minute I + entered the room I knew something had happened, although I couldn't + imagine what. Everybody looked at me in the strangest way. Of course, + Wilhelmina Mercer was the first to set her tongue going. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Miss Holmes, have you seen him yet?" she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + "Seen whom?" I said non-excitedly, getting out my thimble and patterns. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Cecil Fenwick. He's here—in Avonlea—visiting his sister, + Mrs. Maxwell." + </p> + <p> + I suppose I did what they expected me to do. I dropped everything I held, + and Josephine Cameron said afterwards that Charlotte Holmes would never be + paler when she was in her coffin. If they had just known why I turned so + pale! + </p> + <p> + "It's impossible!" I said blankly. + </p> + <p> + "It's really true," said Wilhelmina, delighted at this development, as she + supposed it, of my romance. "I was up to see Mrs. Maxwell last night, and + I met him." + </p> + <p> + "It—can't be—the same—Cecil Fenwick," I said faintly, + because I had to say something. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, it is. He belongs in Blakely, New Brunswick, and he's a lawyer, + and he's been out West twenty-two years. He's oh! so handsome, and just as + you described him, except that his hair is quite gray. He has never + married—I asked Mrs. Maxwell—so you see he has never forgotten + you, Miss Holmes. And, oh, I believe everything is going to come out all + right." + </p> + <p> + I couldn't exactly share her cheerful belief. Everything seemed to me to + be coming out most horribly wrong. I was so mixed up I didn't know what to + do or say. I felt as if I were in a bad dream—it MUST be a dream—there + couldn't really be a Cecil Fenwick! My feelings were simply indescribable. + Fortunately every one put my agitation down to quite a different cause, + and they very kindly left me alone to recover myself. I shall never forget + that awful afternoon. Right after tea I excused myself and went home as + fast as I could go. There I shut myself up in my room, but NOT to write + poetry in my blank book. No, indeed! I felt in no poetical mood. + </p> + <p> + I tried to look the facts squarely in the face. There was a Cecil Fenwick, + extraordinary as the coincidence was, and he was here in Avonlea. All my + friends—and foes—believed that he was the estranged lover of + my youth. If he stayed long in Avonlea, one of two things was bound to + happen. He would hear the story I had told about him and deny it, and I + would be held up to shame and derision for the rest of my natural life; or + else he would simply go away in ignorance, and everybody would suppose he + had forgotten me and would pity me maddeningly. The latter possibility was + bad enough, but it wasn't to be compared to the former; and oh, how I + prayed—yes, I DID pray about it—that he would go right away. + But Providence had other views for me. + </p> + <p> + Cecil Fenwick didn't go away. He stayed right on in Avonlea, and the + Maxwells blossomed out socially in his honor and tried to give him a good + time. Mrs. Maxwell gave a party for him. I got a card—but you may be + very sure I didn't go, although Nancy thought I was crazy not to. Then + every one else gave parties in honor of Mr. Fenwick and I was invited and + never went. Wilhelmina Mercer came and pleaded and scolded and told me if + I avoided Mr. Fenwick like that he would think I still cherished + bitterness against him, and he wouldn't make any advances towards a + reconciliation. Wilhelmina means well, but she hasn't a great deal of + sense. + </p> + <p> + Cecil Fenwick seemed to be a great favorite with everybody, young and old. + He was very rich, too, and Wilhelmina declared that half the girls were + after him. + </p> + <p> + "If it wasn't for you, Miss Holmes, I believe I'd have a try for him + myself, in spite of his gray hair and quick temper—for Mrs. Maxwell + says he has a pretty quick temper, but it's all over in a minute," said + Wilhelmina, half in jest and wholly in earnest. + </p> + <p> + As for me, I gave up going out at all, even to church. I fretted and pined + and lost my appetite and never wrote a line in my blank book. Nancy was + half frantic and insisted on dosing me with her favorite patent pills. I + took them meekly, because it is a waste of time and energy to oppose + Nancy, but, of course, they didn't do me any good. My trouble was too + deep-seated for pills to cure. If ever a woman was punished for telling a + lie I was that woman. I stopped my subscription to the <i>Weekly Advocate</i> + because it still carried that wretched porous plaster advertisement, and I + couldn't bear to see it. If it hadn't been for that I would never have + thought of Fenwick for a name, and all this trouble would have been + averted. + </p> + <p> + One evening, when I was moping in my room, Nancy came up. + </p> + <p> + "There's a gentleman in the parlor asking for you, Miss Charlotte." + </p> + <p> + My heart gave just one horrible bounce. + </p> + <p> + "What—sort of a gentleman, Nancy?" I faltered. + </p> + <p> + "I think it's that Fenwick man that there's been such a time about," said + Nancy, who didn't know anything about my imaginary escapades, "and he + looks to be mad clean through about something, for such a scowl I never + seen." + </p> + <p> + "Tell him I'll be down directly, Nancy," I said quite calmly. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Nancy had clumped downstairs again I put on my lace fichu and + put two hankies in my belt, for I thought I'd probably need more than one. + Then I hunted up an old <i>Advocate</i> for proof, and down I went to the + parlor. I know exactly how a criminal feels going to execution, and I've + been opposed to capital punishment ever since. + </p> + <p> + I opened the parlor door and went in, carefully closing it behind me, for + Nancy has a deplorable habit of listening in the hall. Then my legs gave + out completely, and I couldn't have walked another step to save my life. I + just stood there, my hand on the knob, trembling like a leaf. + </p> + <p> + A man was standing by the south window looking out; he wheeled around as I + went in, and, as Nancy said, he had a scowl on and looked angry clear + through. He was very handsome, and his gray hair gave him such a + distinguished look. I recalled this afterward, but just at the moment you + may be quite sure I wasn't thinking about it at all. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once a strange thing happened. The scowl went right off his + face and the anger out of his eyes. He looked astonished, and then + foolish. I saw the color creeping up into his cheeks. As for me, I still + stood there staring at him, not able to say a single word. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Holmes, I presume," he said at last, in a deep, thrilling voice. "I—I—oh, + confound it! I have called—I heard some foolish stories and I came + here in a rage. I've been a fool—I know now they weren't true. Just + excuse me and I'll go away and kick myself." + </p> + <p> + "No," I said, finding my voice with a gasp, "you mustn't go until you've + heard the truth. It's dreadful enough, but not as dreadful as you might + otherwise think. Those—those stories—I have a confession to + make. I did tell them, but I didn't know there was such a person as Cecil + Fenwick in existence." + </p> + <p> + He looked puzzled, as well he might. Then he smiled, took my hand and led + me away from the door—to the knob of which I was still holding with + all my might—to the sofa. + </p> + <p> + "Let's sit down and talk it over 'comfy,'" he said. + </p> + <p> + I just confessed the whole shameful business. It was terribly humiliating, + but it served me right. I told him how people were always twitting me for + never having had a beau, and how I had told them I had; and then I showed + him the porous plaster advertisement. + </p> + <p> + He heard me right through without a word, and then he threw back his big, + curly, gray head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + "This clears up a great many mysterious hints I've been receiving ever + since I came to Avonlea," he said, "and finally a Mrs. Gilbert came to my + sister this afternoon with a long farrago of nonsense about the love + affair I had once had with some Charlotte Holmes here. She declared you + had told her about it yourself. I confess I flamed up. I'm a peppery chap, + and I thought—I thought—oh, confound it, it might as well out: + I thought you were some lank old maid who was amusing herself telling + ridiculous stories about me. When you came into the room I knew that, + whoever was to blame, you were not." + </p> + <p> + "But I was," I said ruefully. "It wasn't right of me to tell such a story—and + it was very silly, too. But who would ever have supposed that there could + be a real Cecil Fenwick who had lived in Blakely? I never heard of such a + coincidence." + </p> + <p> + "It's more than a coincidence," said Mr. Fenwick decidedly. "It's + predestination; that is what it is. And now let's forget it and talk of + something else." + </p> + <p> + We talked of something else—or at least Mr. Fenwick did, for I was + too ashamed to say much—so long that Nancy got restive and clumped + through the hall every five minutes; but Mr. Fenwick never took the hint. + When he finally went away he asked if he might come again. + </p> + <p> + "It's time we made up that old quarrel, you know," he said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + And I, an old maid of forty, caught myself blushing like a girl. But I + felt like a girl, for it was such a relief to have that explanation all + over. I couldn't even feel angry with Adella Gilbert. She was always a + mischief maker, and when a woman is born that way she is more to be pitied + than blamed. I wrote a poem in the blank book before I went to sleep; I + hadn't written anything for a month, and it was lovely to be at it once + more. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fenwick did come again—the very next evening, but one. And he + came so often after that that even Nancy got resigned to him. One day I + had to tell her something. I shrank from doing it, for I feared it would + make her feel badly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I've been expecting to hear it," she said grimly. "I felt the minute + that man came into the house he brought trouble with him. Well, Miss + Charlotte, I wish you happiness. I don't know how the climate of + California will agree with me, but I suppose I'll have to put up with it." + </p> + <p> + "But, Nancy," I said, "I can't expect you to go away out there with me. + It's too much to ask of you." + </p> + <p> + "And where else would I be going?" demanded Nancy in genuine astonishment. + "How under the canopy could you keep house without me? I'm not going to + trust you to the mercies of a yellow Chinee with a pig-tail. Where you go + I go, Miss Charlotte, and there's an end of it." + </p> + <p> + I was very glad, for I hated to think of parting with Nancy even to go + with Cecil. As for the blank book, I haven't told my husband about it yet, + but I mean to some day. And I've subscribed for the <i>Weekly Advocate</i> + again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER + </h2> + <h3> + "We must invite your Aunt Jane, of course," said Mrs. Spencer. + </h3> + <p> + Rachel made a protesting movement with her large, white, shapely hands—hands + which were so different from the thin, dark, twisted ones folded on the + table opposite her. The difference was not caused by hard work or the lack + of it; Rachel had worked hard all her life. It was a difference inherent + in temperament. The Spencers, no matter what they did, or how hard they + labored, all had plump, smooth, white hands, with firm, supple fingers; + the Chiswicks, even those who toiled not, neither did they spin, had hard, + knotted, twisted ones. Moreover, the contrast went deeper than externals, + and twined itself with the innermost fibers of life, and thought, and + action. + </p> + <p> + "I don't see why we must invite Aunt Jane," said Rachel, with as much + impatience as her soft, throaty voice could express. "Aunt Jane doesn't + like me, and I don't like Aunt Jane." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I don't see why you don't like her," said Mrs. Spencer. "It's + ungrateful of you. She has always been very kind to you." + </p> + <p> + "She has always been very kind with one hand," smiled Rachel. "I remember + the first time I ever saw Aunt Jane. I was six years old. She held out to + me a small velvet pincushion with beads on it. And then, because I did + not, in my shyness, thank her quite as promptly as I should have done, she + rapped my head with her bethimbled finger to 'teach me better manners.' It + hurt horribly—I've always had a tender head. And that has been Aunt + Jane's way ever since. When I grew too big for the thimble treatment she + used her tongue instead—and that hurt worse. And you know, mother, + how she used to talk about my engagement. She is able to spoil the whole + atmosphere if she happens to come in a bad humor. I don't want her." + </p> + <p> + "She must be invited. People would talk so if she wasn't." + </p> + <p> + "I don't see why they should. She's only my great-aunt by marriage. I + wouldn't mind in the least if people did talk. They'll talk anyway—you + know that, mother." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, we must have her," said Mrs. Spencer, with the indifferent finality + that marked all her words and decisions—a finality against which it + was seldom of any avail to struggle. People, who knew, rarely attempted + it; strangers occasionally did, misled by the deceit of appearances. + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer was a wisp of a woman, with a pale, pretty face, + uncertainly-colored, long-lashed grayish eyes, and great masses of dull, + soft, silky brown hair. She had delicate aquiline features and a small, + babyish red mouth. She looked as if a breath would sway her. The truth was + that a tornado would hardly have caused her to swerve an inch from her + chosen path. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Rachel looked rebellious; then she yielded, as she generally + did in all differences of opinion with her mother. It was not worth while + to quarrel over the comparatively unimportant matter of Aunt Jane's + invitation. A quarrel might be inevitable later on; Rachel wanted to save + all her resources for that. She gave her shoulders a shrug, and wrote Aunt + Jane's name down on the wedding list in her large, somewhat untidy + handwriting—a handwriting which always seemed to irritate her + mother. Rachel never could understand this irritation. She could never + guess that it was because her writing looked so much like that in a + certain packet of faded letters which Mrs. Spencer kept at the bottom of + an old horsehair trunk in her bedroom. They were postmarked from seaports + all over the world. Mrs. Spencer never read them or looked at them; but + she remembered every dash and curve of the handwriting. + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer had overcome many things in her life by the sheer force + and persistency of her will. But she could not get the better of heredity. + Rachel was her father's daughter at all points, and Isabella Spencer + escaped hating her for it only by loving her the more fiercely because of + it. Even so, there were many times when she had to avert her eyes from + Rachel's face because of the pang of the more subtle remembrances; and + never, since her child was born, could Isabella Spencer bear to gaze on + that child's face in sleep. + </p> + <p> + Rachel was to be married to Frank Bell in a fortnight's time. Mrs. Spencer + was pleased with the match. She was very fond of Frank, and his farm was + so near to her own that she would not lose Rachel altogether. Rachel + fondly believed that her mother would not lose her at all; but Isabella + Spencer, wiser by olden experience, knew what her daughter's marriage must + mean to her, and steeled her heart to bear it with what fortitude she + might. + </p> + <p> + They were in the sitting-room, deciding on the wedding guests and other + details. The September sunshine was coming in through the waving boughs of + the apple tree that grew close up to the low window. The glints wavered + over Rachel's face, as white as a wood lily, with only a faint dream of + rose in the cheeks. She wore her sleek, golden hair in a quaint arch + around it. Her forehead was very broad and white. She was fresh and young + and hopeful. The mother's heart contracted in a spasm of pain as she + looked at her. How like the girl was to—to—to the Spencers! + Those easy, curving outlines, those large, mirthful blue eyes, that finely + molded chin! Isabella Spencer shut her lips firmly and crushed down some + unbidden, unwelcome memories. + </p> + <p> + "There will be about sixty guests, all told," she said, as if she were + thinking of nothing else. "We must move the furniture out of this room and + set the supper-table here. The dining-room is too small. We must borrow + Mrs. Bell's forks and spoons. She offered to lend them. I'd never have + been willing to ask her. The damask table cloths with the ribbon pattern + must be bleached to-morrow. Nobody else in Avonlea has such tablecloths. + And we'll put the little dining-room table on the hall landing, upstairs, + for the presents." + </p> + <p> + Rachel was not thinking about the presents, or the housewifely details of + the wedding. Her breath was coming quicker, and the faint blush on her + smooth cheeks had deepened to crimson. She knew that a critical moment was + approaching. With a steady hand she wrote the last name on her list and + drew a line under it. + </p> + <p> + "Well, have you finished?" asked her mother impatiently. "Hand it here and + let me look over it to make sure that you haven't left anybody out that + should be in." + </p> + <p> + Rachel passed the paper across the table in silence. The room seemed to + her to have grown very still. She could hear the flies buzzing on the + panes, the soft purr of the wind about the low eaves and through the apple + boughs, the jerky beating of her own heart. She felt frightened and + nervous, but resolute. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spencer glanced down the list, murmuring the names aloud and nodding + approval at each. But when she came to the last name, she did not utter + it. She cast a black glance at Rachel, and a spark leaped up in the depths + of the pale eyes. On her face were anger, amazement, incredulity, the last + predominating. + </p> + <p> + The final name on the list of wedding guests was the name of David + Spencer. David Spencer lived alone in a little cottage down at the Cove. + He was a combination of sailor and fisherman. He was also Isabella + Spencer's husband and Rachel's father. + </p> + <p> + "Rachel Spencer, have you taken leave of your senses? What do you mean by + such nonsense as this?" + </p> + <p> + "I simply mean that I am going to invite my father to my wedding," + answered Rachel quietly. + </p> + <p> + "Not in my house," cried Mrs. Spencer, her lips as white as if her fiery + tone had scathed them. + </p> + <p> + Rachel leaned forward, folded her large, capable hands deliberately on the + table, and gazed unflinchingly into her mother's bitter face. Her fright + and nervousness were gone. Now that the conflict was actually on she found + herself rather enjoying it. She wondered a little at herself, and thought + that she must be wicked. She was not given to self-analysis, or she might + have concluded that it was the sudden assertion of her own personality, so + long dominated by her mother's, which she was finding so agreeable. + </p> + <p> + "Then there will be no wedding, mother," she said. "Frank and I will + simply go to the manse, be married, and go home. If I cannot invite my + father to see me married, no one else shall be invited." + </p> + <p> + Her lips narrowed tightly. For the first time in her life Isabella Spencer + saw a reflection of herself looking back at her from her daughter's face—a + strange, indefinable resemblance that was more of soul and spirit than of + flesh and blood. In spite of her anger her heart thrilled to it. As never + before, she realized that this girl was her own and her husband's child, a + living bond between them wherein their conflicting natures mingled and + were reconciled. She realized too, that Rachel, so long sweetly meek and + obedient, meant to have her own way in this case—and would have it. + </p> + <p> + "I must say that I can't see why you are so set on having your father see + you married," she said with a bitter sneer. "HE has never remembered that + he is your father. He cares nothing about you—never did care." + </p> + <p> + Rachel took no notice of this taunt. It had no power to hurt her, its + venom being neutralized by a secret knowledge of her own in which her + mother had no share. + </p> + <p> + "Either I shall invite my father to my wedding, or I shall not have a + wedding," she repeated steadily, adopting her mother's own effective + tactics of repetition undistracted by argument. + </p> + <p> + "Invite him then," snapped Mrs. Spencer, with the ungraceful anger of a + woman, long accustomed to having her own way, compelled for once to yield. + "It'll be like chips in porridge anyhow—neither good nor harm. He + won't come." + </p> + <p> + Rachel made no response. Now that the battle was over, and the victory + won, she found herself tremulously on the verge of tears. She rose quickly + and went upstairs to her own room, a dim little place shadowed by the + white birches growing thickly outside—a virginal room, where + everything bespoke the maiden. She lay down on the blue and white + patchwork quilt on her bed, and cried softly and bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Her heart, at this crisis in her life, yearned for her father, who was + almost a stranger to her. She knew that her mother had probably spoken the + truth when she said that he would not come. Rachel felt that her marriage + vows would be lacking in some indefinable sacredness if her father were + not by to hear them spoken. + </p> + <p> + Twenty-five years before this, David Spencer and Isabella Chiswick had + been married. Spiteful people said there could be no doubt that Isabella + had married David for love, since he had neither lands nor money to tempt + her into a match of bargain and sale. David was a handsome fellow, with + the blood of a seafaring race in his veins. + </p> + <p> + He had been a sailor, like his father and grandfather before him; but, + when he married Isabella, she induced him to give up the sea and settle + down with her on a snug farm her father had left her. Isabella liked + farming, and loved her fertile acres and opulent orchards. She abhorred + the sea and all that pertained to it, less from any dread of its dangers + than from an inbred conviction that sailors were "low" in the social scale—a + species of necessary vagabonds. In her eyes there was a taint of disgrace + in such a calling. David must be transformed into a respectable, + home-abiding tiller of broad lands. + </p> + <p> + For five years all went well enough. If, at times, David's longing for the + sea troubled him, he stifled it, and listened not to its luring voice. He + and Isabella were very happy; the only drawback to their happiness lay in + the regretted fact that they were childless. + </p> + <p> + Then, in the sixth year, came a crisis and a change. Captain Barrett, an + old crony of David's, wanted him to go with him on a voyage as mate. At + the suggestion all David's long-repressed craving for the wide blue wastes + of the ocean, and the wind whistling through the spars with the salt foam + in its breath, broke forth with a passion all the more intense for that + very repression. He must go on that voyage with James Barrett—he + MUST! That over, he would be contented again; but go he must. His soul + struggled within him like a fettered thing. + </p> + <p> + Isabella opposed the scheme vehemently and unwisely, with mordant sarcasm + and unjust reproaches. The latent obstinacy of David's character came to + the support of his longing—a longing which Isabella, with five + generations of land-loving ancestry behind her, could not understand at + all. + </p> + <p> + He was determined to go, and he told Isabella so. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sick of plowing and milking cows," he said hotly. + </p> + <p> + "You mean that you are sick of a respectable life," sneered Isabella. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," said David, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. + "Anyway, I'm going." + </p> + <p> + "If you go on this voyage, David Spencer, you need never come back here," + said Isabella resolutely. + </p> + <p> + David had gone; he did not believe that she meant it. Isabella believed + that he did not care whether she meant it or not. David Spencer left + behind him a woman, calm outwardly, inwardly a seething volcano of anger, + wounded pride, and thwarted will. + </p> + <p> + He found precisely the same woman when he came home, tanned, joyous, tamed + for a while of his <i>wanderlust</i>, ready, with something of real + affection, to go back to the farm fields and the stock-yard. + </p> + <p> + Isabella met him at the door, smileless, cold-eyed, set-lipped. + </p> + <p> + "What do you want here?" she said, in the tone she was accustomed to use + to tramps and Syrian peddlers. + </p> + <p> + "Want!" David's surprise left him at a loss for words. "Want! Why, I—I—want + my wife. I've come home." + </p> + <p> + "This is not your home. I'm no wife of yours. You made your choice when + you went away," Isabella had replied. Then she had gone in, shut the door, + and locked it in his face. + </p> + <p> + David had stood there for a few minutes like a man stunned. Then he had + turned and walked away up the lane under the birches. He said nothing—then + or at any other time. From that day no reference to his wife or her + concerns ever crossed his lips. + </p> + <p> + He went directly to the harbor, and shipped with Captain Barrett for + another voyage. When he came back from that in a month's time, he bought a + small house and had it hauled to the "Cove," a lonely inlet from which no + other human habitation was visible. Between his sea voyages he lived there + the life of a recluse; fishing and playing his violin were his only + employments. He went nowhere and encouraged no visitors. + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer also had adopted the tactics of silence. When the + scandalized Chiswicks, Aunt Jane at their head, tried to patch up the + matter with argument and entreaty, Isabella met them stonily, seeming not + to hear what they said, and making no response. She worsted them totally. + As Aunt Jane said in disgust, "What can you do with a woman who won't even + TALK?" + </p> + <p> + Five months after David Spencer had been turned from his wife's door, + Rachel was born. Perhaps, if David had come to them then, with due + penitence and humility, Isabella's heart, softened by the pain and joy of + her long and ardently desired motherhood might have cast out the rankling + venom of resentment that had poisoned it and taken him back into it. But + David had not come; he gave no sign of knowing or caring that his once + longed-for child had been born. + </p> + <p> + When Isabella was able to be about again, her pale face was harder than + ever; and, had there been about her any one discerning enough to notice + it, there was a subtle change in her bearing and manner. A certain nervous + expectancy, a fluttering restlessness was gone. Isabella had ceased to + hope secretly that her husband would yet come back. She had in her secret + soul thought he would; and she had meant to forgive him when she had + humbled him sufficiently, and when he had abased himself as she considered + he should. But now she knew that he did not mean to sue for her + forgiveness; and the hate that sprang out of her old love was a rank and + speedy and persistent growth. + </p> + <p> + Rachel, from her earliest recollection, had been vaguely conscious of a + difference between her own life and the lives of her playmates. For a long + time it puzzled her childish brain. Finally, she reasoned it out that the + difference consisted in the fact that they had fathers and she, Rachel + Spencer, had none—not even in the graveyard, as Carrie Bell and + Lilian Boulter had. Why was this? Rachel went straight to her mother, put + one little dimpled hand on Isabella Spencer's knee, looked up with great + searching blue eyes, and said gravely, + </p> + <p> + "Mother, why haven't I got a father like the other little girls?" + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer laid aside her work, took the seven year old child on her + lap, and told her the whole story in a few direct and bitter words that + imprinted themselves indelibly on Rachel's remembrance. She understood + clearly and hopelessly that she could never have a father—that, in + this respect, she must always be unlike other people. + </p> + <p> + "Your father cares nothing for you," said Isabella Spencer in conclusion. + "He never did care. You must never speak of him to anybody again." + </p> + <p> + Rachel slipped silently from her mother's knee and ran out to the + Springtime garden with a full heart. There she cried passionately over her + mother's last words. It seemed to her a terrible thing that her father + should not love her, and a cruel thing that she must never talk of him. + </p> + <p> + Oddly enough, Rachel's sympathies were all with her father, in as far as + she could understand the old quarrel. She did not dream of disobeying her + mother and she did not disobey her. Never again did the child speak of her + father; but Isabella had not forbidden her to think of him, and + thenceforth Rachel thought of him constantly—so constantly that, in + some strange way, he seemed to become an unguessed-of part of her inner + life—the unseen, ever-present companion in all her experiences. + </p> + <p> + She was an imaginative child, and in fancy she made the acquaintance of + her father. She had never seen him, but he was more real to her than most + of the people she had seen. He played and talked with her as her mother + never did; he walked with her in the orchard and field and garden; he sat + by her pillow in the twilight; to him she whispered secrets she told to + none other. + </p> + <p> + Once her mother asked her impatiently why she talked so much to herself. + </p> + <p> + "I am not talking to myself. I am talking to a very dear friend of mine," + Rachel answered gravely. + </p> + <p> + "Silly child," laughed her mother, half tolerantly, half disapprovingly. + </p> + <p> + Two years later something wonderful had happened to Rachel. One summer + afternoon she had gone to the harbor with several of her little playmates. + Such a jaunt was a rare treat to the child, for Isabella Spencer seldom + allowed her to go from home with anybody but herself. And Isabella was not + an entertaining companion. Rachel never particularly enjoyed an outing + with her mother. + </p> + <p> + The children wandered far along the shore; at last they came to a place + that Rachel had never seen before. It was a shallow cove where the waters + purred on the yellow sands. Beyond it, the sea was laughing and flashing + and preening and alluring, like a beautiful, coquettish woman. Outside, + the wind was boisterous and rollicking; here, it was reverent and gentle. + A white boat was hauled up on the skids, and there was a queer little + house close down to the sands, like a big shell tossed up by the waves. + Rachel looked on it all with secret delight; she, too, loved the lonely + places of sea and shore, as her father had done. She wanted to linger + awhile in this dear spot and revel in it. + </p> + <p> + "I'm tired, girls," she announced. "I'm going to stay here and rest for a + spell. I don't want to go to Gull Point. You go on yourselves; I'll wait + for you here." + </p> + <p> + "All alone?" asked Carrie Bell, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not so afraid of being alone as some people are," said Rachel, with + dignity. + </p> + <p> + The other girls went on, leaving Rachel sitting on the skids, in the + shadow of the big white boat. She sat there for a time dreaming happily, + with her blue eyes on the far, pearly horizon, and her golden head leaning + against the boat. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a step behind her. When she turned her head a man was + standing beside her, looking down at her with big, merry, blue eyes. + Rachel was quite sure that she had never seen him before; yet those eyes + seemed to her to have a strangely familiar look. She liked him. She felt + no shyness nor timidity, such as usually afflicted her in the presence of + strangers. + </p> + <p> + He was a tall, stout man, dressed in a rough fishing suit, and wearing an + oilskin cap on his head. His hair was very thick and curly and fair; his + cheeks were tanned and red; his teeth, when he smiled, were very even and + white. Rachel thought he must be quite old, because there was a good deal + of gray mixed with his fair hair. + </p> + <p> + "Are you watching for the mermaids?" he said. + </p> + <p> + Rachel nodded gravely. From any one else she would have scrupulously + hidden such a thought. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I am," she said. "Mother says there is no such thing as a mermaid, + but I like to think there is. Have you ever seen one?" + </p> + <p> + The big man sat down on a bleached log of driftwood and smiled at her. + </p> + <p> + "No, I'm sorry to say that I haven't. But I have seen many other very + wonderful things. I might tell you about some of them, if you would come + over here and sit by me." + </p> + <p> + Rachel went unhesitatingly. When she reached him he pulled her down on his + knee, and she liked it. + </p> + <p> + "What a nice little craft you are," he said. "Do you suppose, now, that + you could give me a kiss?" + </p> + <p> + As a rule, Rachel hated kissing. She could seldom be prevailed upon to + kiss even her uncles—who knew it and liked to tease her for kisses + until they aggravated her so terribly that she told them she couldn't bear + men. But now she promptly put her arms about this strange man's neck and + gave him a hearty smack. + </p> + <p> + "I like you," she said frankly. + </p> + <p> + She felt his arms tighten suddenly about her. The blue eyes looking into + hers grew misty and very tender. Then, all at once, Rachel knew who he + was. He was her father. She did not say anything, but she laid her curly + head down on his shoulder and felt a great happiness, as of one who had + come into some longed-for haven. + </p> + <p> + If David Spencer realized that she understood he said nothing. Instead, he + began to tell her fascinating stories of far lands he had visited, and + strange things he had seen. Rachel listened entranced, as if she were + hearkening to a fairy tale. Yes, he was just as she had dreamed him. She + had always been sure he could tell beautiful stories. + </p> + <p> + "Come up to the house and I'll show you some pretty things," he said + finally. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a wonderful hour. The little low-ceilinged room, with its + square window, into which he took her, was filled with the flotsam and + jetsam of his roving life—things beautiful and odd and strange + beyond all telling. The things that pleased Rachel most were two huge + shells on the chimney piece—pale pink shells with big crimson and + purple spots. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I didn't know there could be such pretty things in the world," she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + "If you would like," began the big man; then he paused for a moment. "I'll + show you something prettier still." + </p> + <p> + Rachel felt vaguely that he meant to say something else when he began; but + she forgot to wonder what it was when she saw what he brought out of a + little corner cupboard. It was a teapot of some fine, glistening purple + ware, coiled over by golden dragons with gilded claws and scales. The lid + looked like a beautiful golden flower and the handle was a coil of a + dragon's tail. Rachel sat and looked at it rapt-eyed. + </p> + <p> + "That's the only thing of any value I have in the world—now," he + said. + </p> + <p> + Rachel knew there was something very sad in his eyes and voice. She longed + to kiss him again and comfort him. But suddenly he began to laugh, and + then he rummaged out some goodies for her to eat, sweetmeats more + delicious than she had ever imagined. While she nibbled them he took down + an old violin and played music that made her want to dance and sing. + Rachel was perfectly happy. She wished she might stay forever in that low, + dim room with all its treasures. + </p> + <p> + "I see your little friends coming around the point," he said, finally. "I + suppose you must go. Put the rest of the goodies in your pocket." + </p> + <p> + He took her up in his arms and held her tightly against his breast for a + single moment. She felt him kissing her hair. + </p> + <p> + "There, run along, little girl. Good-by," he said gently. + </p> + <p> + "Why don't you ask me to come and see you again?" cried Rachel, half in + tears. "I'm coming ANYHOW." + </p> + <p> + "If you can come, COME," he said. "If you don't come, I shall know it is + because you can't—and that is much to know. I'm very, very, VERY + glad, little woman, that you have come once." + </p> + <p> + Rachel was sitting demurely on the skids when her companions came back. + They had not seen her leaving the house, and she said not a word to them + of her experiences. She only smiled mysteriously when they asked her if + she had been lonesome. + </p> + <p> + That night, for the first time, she mentioned her father's name in her + prayers. She never forgot to do so afterwards. She always said, "bless + mother—and father," with an instinctive pause between the two names—a + pause which indicated new realization of the tragedy which had sundered + them. And the tone in which she said "father" was softer and more tender + than the one which voiced "mother." + </p> + <p> + Rachel never visited the Cove again. Isabella Spencer discovered that the + children had been there, and, although she knew nothing of Rachel's + interview with her father, she told the child that she must never again go + to that part of the shore. + </p> + <p> + Rachel shed many a bitter tear in secret over this command; but she obeyed + it. Thenceforth there had been no communication between her and her + father, save the unworded messages of soul to soul across whatever may + divide them. + </p> + <p> + David Spencer's invitation to his daughter's wedding was sent with the + others, and the remaining days of Rachel's maidenhood slipped away in a + whirl of preparation and excitement in which her mother reveled, but which + was distasteful to the girl. + </p> + <p> + The wedding day came at last, breaking softly and fairly over the great + sea in a sheen of silver and pearl and rose, a September day, as mild and + beautiful as June. + </p> + <p> + The ceremony was to be performed at eight o'clock in the evening. At seven + Rachel stood in her room, fully dressed and alone. She had no bridesmaid, + and she had asked her cousins to leave her to herself in this last solemn + hour of girlhood. She looked very fair and sweet in the sunset-light that + showered through the birches. Her wedding gown was a fine, sheer organdie, + simply and daintily made. In the loose waves of her bright hair she wore + her bridegroom's flowers, roses as white as a virgin's dream. She was very + happy; but her happiness was faintly threaded with the sorrow inseparable + from all change. + </p> + <p> + Presently her mother came in, carrying a small basket. + </p> + <p> + "Here is something for you, Rachel. One of the boys from the harbor + brought it up. He was bound to give it into your own hands—said that + was his orders. I just took it and sent him to the right-about—told + him I'd give it to you at once, and that that was all that was necessary." + </p> + <p> + She spoke coldly. She knew quite well who had sent the basket, and she + resented it; but her resentment was not quite strong enough to overcome + her curiosity. She stood silently by while Rachel unpacked the basket. + </p> + <p> + Rachel's hands trembled as she took off the cover. Two huge pink-spotted + shells came first. How well she remembered them! Beneath them, carefully + wrapped up in a square of foreign-looking, strangely scented silk, was the + dragon teapot. She held it in her hands and gazed at it with tears + gathering thickly in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Your father sent that," said Isabella Spencer with an odd sound in her + voice. "I remember it well. It was among the things I packed up and sent + after him. His father had brought it home from China fifty years ago, and + he prized it beyond anything. They used to say it was worth a lot of + money." + </p> + <p> + "Mother, please leave me alone for a little while," said Rachel, + imploringly. She had caught sight of a little note at the bottom of the + basket, and she felt that she could not read it under her mother's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spencer went out with unaccustomed acquiescence, and Rachel went + quickly to the window, where she read her letter by the fading gleams of + twilight. It was very brief, and the writing was that of a man who holds a + pen but seldom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "My dear little girl," it ran, "I'm sorry I can't go to your + wedding. It was like you to ask me—for I know it was your + doing. I wish I could see you married, but I can't go to the + house I was turned out of. I hope you will be very happy. I + am sending you the shells and teapot you liked so much. Do + you remember that day we had such a good time? I would liked + to have seen you again before you were married, but it can't + be. + + "Your loving father, + "DAVID SPENCER." +</pre> + <p> + Rachel resolutely blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. A fierce + desire for her father sprang up in her heart—an insistent hunger + that would not be denied. She MUST see her father; she MUST have his + blessing on her new life. A sudden determination took possession of her + whole being—a determination to sweep aside all conventionalities and + objections as if they had not been. + </p> + <p> + It was now almost dark. The guests would not be coming for half an hour + yet. It was only fifteen minutes' walk over the hill to the Cove. Hastily + Rachel shrouded herself in her new raincoat, and drew a dark, protecting + hood over her gay head. She opened the door and slipped noiselessly + downstairs. Mrs. Spencer and her assistants were all busy in the back part + of the house. In a moment Rachel was out in the dewy garden. She would go + straight over the fields. Nobody would see her. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark when she reached the Cove. In the crystal cup of the sky + over her the stars were blinking. Flying flakes of foam were scurrying + over the sand like elfin things. A soft little wind was crooning about the + eaves of the little gray house where David Spencer was sitting, alone in + the twilight, his violin on his knee. He had been trying to play, but + could not. His heart yearned after his daughter—yes, and after a + long-estranged bride of his youth. His love of the sea was sated forever; + his love for wife and child still cried for its own under all his old + anger and stubbornness. + </p> + <p> + The door opened suddenly and the very Rachel of whom he was dreaming came + suddenly in, flinging off her wraps and standing forth in her young beauty + and bridal adornments, a splendid creature, almost lighting up the gloom + with her radiance. + </p> + <p> + "Father," she cried, brokenly, and her father's eager arms closed around + her. + </p> + <p> + Back in the house she had left, the guests were coming to the wedding. + There were jests and laughter and friendly greeting. The bridegroom came, + too, a slim, dark-eyed lad who tiptoed bashfully upstairs to the spare + room, from which he presently emerged to confront Mrs. Spencer on the + landing. + </p> + <p> + "I want to see Rachel before we go down," he said, blushing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spencer deposited a wedding present of linen on the table which was + already laden with gifts, opening the door of Rachel's room, and called + her. There was no reply; the room was dark and still. In sudden alarm, + Isabella Spencer snatched the lamp from the hall table and held it up. The + little white room was empty. No blushing, white-clad bride tenanted it. + But David Spencer's letter was lying on the stand. She caught it up and + read it. + </p> + <p> + "Rachel is gone," she gasped. A flash of intuition had revealed to her + where and why the girl had gone. + </p> + <p> + "Gone!" echoed Frank, his face blanching. His pallid dismay recalled Mrs. + Spencer to herself. She gave a bitter, ugly little laugh. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you needn't look so scared, Frank. She hasn't run away from you. + Hush; come in here—shut the door. Nobody must know of this. Nice + gossip it would make! That little fool has gone to the Cove to see her—her + father. I know she has. It's just like what she would do. He sent her + those presents—look—and this letter. Read it. She has gone to + coax him to come and see her married. She was crazy about it. And the + minister is here and it is half-past seven. She'll ruin her dress and + shoes in the dust and dew. And what if some one has seen her! Was there + ever such a little fool?" + </p> + <p> + Frank's presence of mind had returned to him. He knew all about Rachel and + her father. She had told him everything. + </p> + <p> + "I'll go after her," he said gently. "Get me my hat and coat. I'll slip + down the back stairs and over to the Cove." + </p> + <p> + "You must get out of the pantry window, then," said Mrs. Spencer firmly, + mingling comedy and tragedy after her characteristic fashion. "The kitchen + is full of women. I won't have this known and talked about if it can + possibly be helped." + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom, wise beyond his years in the knowledge that it was well to + yield to women in little things, crawled obediently out of the pantry + window and darted through the birch wood. Mrs. Spencer had stood quakingly + on guard until he had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + So Rachel had gone to her father! Like had broken the fetters of years and + fled to like. + </p> + <p> + "It isn't much use fighting against nature, I guess," she thought grimly. + "I'm beat. He must have thought something of her, after all, when he sent + her that teapot and letter. And what does he mean about the 'day they had + such a good time'? Well, it just means that she's been to see him before, + sometime, I suppose, and kept me in ignorance of it all." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spencer shut down the pantry window with a vicious thud. + </p> + <p> + "If only she'll come quietly back with Frank in time to prevent gossip + I'll forgive her," she said, as she turned to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Rachel was sitting on her father's knee, with both her white arms around + his neck, when Frank came in. She sprang up, her face flushed and + appealing, her eyes bright and dewy with tears. Frank thought he had never + seen her look so lovely. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Frank, is it very late? Oh, are you angry?" she exclaimed timidly. + </p> + <p> + "No, no, dear. Of course I'm not angry. But don't you think you'd better + come back now? It's nearly eight and everybody is waiting." + </p> + <p> + "I've been trying to coax father to come up and see me married," said + Rachel. "Help me, Frank." + </p> + <p> + "You'd better come, sir," said Frank, heartily, "I'd like it as much as + Rachel would." + </p> + <p> + David Spencer shook his head stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + "No, I can't go to that house. I was locked out of it. Never mind me. I've + had my happiness in this half hour with my little girl. I'd like to see + her married, but it isn't to be." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it is to be—it shall be," said Rachel resolutely. "You SHALL + see me married. Frank, I'm going to be married here in my father's house! + That is the right place for a girl to be married. Go back and tell the + guests so, and bring them all down." + </p> + <p> + Frank looked rather dismayed. David Spencer said deprecatingly: "Little + girl, don't you think it would be—" + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to have my own way in this," said Rachel, with a sort of tender + finality. "Go, Frank. I'll obey you all my life after, but you must do + this for me. Try to understand," she added beseechingly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I understand," Frank reassured her. "Besides, I think you are right. + But I was thinking of your mother. She won't come." + </p> + <p> + "Then you tell her that if she doesn't come I shan't be married at all," + said Rachel. She was betraying unsuspected ability to manage people. She + knew that ultimatum would urge Frank to his best endeavors. + </p> + <p> + Frank, much to Mrs. Spencer's dismay, marched boldly in at the front door + upon his return. She pounced on him and whisked him out of sight into the + supper room. + </p> + <p> + "Where's Rachel? What made you come that way? Everybody saw you!" + </p> + <p> + "It makes no difference. They will all have to know, anyway. Rachel says + she is going to be married from her father's house, or not at all. I've + come back to tell you so." + </p> + <p> + Isabella's face turned crimson. + </p> + <p> + "Rachel has gone crazy. I wash my hands of this affair. Do as you please. + Take the guests—the supper, too, if you can carry it." + </p> + <p> + "We'll all come back here for supper," said Frank, ignoring the sarcasm. + "Come, Mrs. Spencer, let's make the best of it." + </p> + <p> + "Do you suppose that <i>I</i> am going to David Spencer's house?" said + Isabella Spencer violently. + </p> + <p> + "Oh you MUST come, Mrs. Spencer," cried poor Frank desperately. He began + to fear that he would lose his bride past all finding in this maze of + triple stubbornness. "Rachel says she won't be married at all if you don't + go, too. Think what a talk it will make. You know she will keep her word." + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer knew it. Amid all the conflict of anger and revolt in her + soul was a strong desire not to make a worse scandal than must of + necessity be made. The desire subdued and tamed her, as nothing else could + have done. + </p> + <p> + "I will go, since I have to," she said icily. "What can't be cured must be + endured. Go and tell them." + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later the sixty wedding guests were all walking over the + fields to the Cove, with the minister and the bridegroom in the front of + the procession. They were too amazed even to talk about the strange + happening. Isabella Spencer walked behind, fiercely alone. + </p> + <p> + They all crowded into the little room of the house at the Cove, and a + solemn hush fell over it, broken only by the purr of the sea-wind around + it and the croon of the waves on the shore. David Spencer gave his + daughter away; but, when the ceremony was concluded, Isabella was the + first to take the girl in her arms. She clasped her and kissed her, with + tears streaming down her pale face, all her nature melted in a mother's + tenderness. + </p> + <p> + "Rachel! Rachel! My child, I hope and pray that you may be happy," she + said brokenly. + </p> + <p> + In the surge of the suddenly merry crowd of well-wishers around the bride + and groom, Isabella was pushed back into a shadowy corner behind a heap of + sails and ropes. Looking up, she found herself crushed against David + Spencer. For the first time in twenty years the eyes of husband and wife + met. A strange thrill shot to Isabella's heart; she felt herself + trembling. + </p> + <p> + "Isabella." It was David's voice in her ear—a voice full of + tenderness and pleading—the voice of the young wooer of her girlhood—"Is + it too late to ask you to forgive me? I've been a stubborn fool—but + there hasn't been an hour in all these years that I haven't thought about + you and our baby and longed for you." + </p> + <p> + Isabella Spencer had hated this man; yet her hate had been but a parasite + growth on a nobler stem, with no abiding roots of its own. It withered + under his words, and lo, there was the old love, fair and strong and + beautiful as ever. + </p> + <p> + "Oh—David—I—was—all—to—blame," she + murmured brokenly. + </p> + <p> + Further words were lost on her husband's lips. + </p> + <p> + When the hubbub of handshaking and congratulating had subsided, Isabella + Spencer stepped out before the company. She looked almost girlish and + bridal herself, with her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Let's go back now and have supper, and be sensible," she said crisply. + "Rachel, your father is coming, too. He is coming to STAY,"—with a + defiant glance around the circle. "Come, everybody." + </p> + <p> + They went back with laughter and raillery over the quiet autumn fields, + faintly silvered now by the moon that was rising over the hills. The young + bride and groom lagged behind; they were very happy, but they were not so + happy, after all, as the old bride and groom who walked swiftly in front. + Isabella's hand was in her husband's and sometimes she could not see the + moonlit hills for a mist of glorified tears. + </p> + <p> + "David," she whispered, as he helped her over the fence, "how can you ever + forgive me?" + </p> + <p> + "There's nothing to forgive," he said. "We're only just married. Who ever + heard of a bridegroom talking of forgiveness? Everything is beginning over + new for us, my girl." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. JANE'S BABY + </h2> + <p> + Miss Rosetta Ellis, with her front hair in curl-papers, and her back hair + bound with a checked apron, was out in her breezy side yard under the + firs, shaking her parlor rugs, when Mr. Nathan Patterson drove in. Miss + Rosetta had seen him coming down the long red hill, but she had not + supposed he would be calling at that time of the morning. So she had not + run. Miss Rosetta always ran if anybody called and her front hair was in + curl-papers; and, though the errand of the said caller might be life or + death, he or she had to wait until Miss Rosetta had taken her hair out. + Everybody in Avonlea knew this, because everybody in Avonlea knew + everything about everybody else. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Patterson had wheeled into the lane so quickly and unexpectedly + that Miss Rosetta had had no time to run; so, twitching off the checked + apron, she stood her ground as calmly as might be under the disagreeable + consciousness of curl-papers. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Miss Ellis," said Mr. Patterson, so somberly that Miss + Rosetta instantly felt that he was the bearer of bad news. Usually Mr. + Patterson's face was as broad and beaming as a harvest moon. Now his + expression was very melancholy and his voice positively sepulchral. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning," returned Miss Rosetta, crisply and cheerfully. She, at any + rate, would not go into eclipse until she knew the reason therefor. "It is + a fine day." + </p> + <p> + "A very fine day," assented Mr. Patterson, solemnly. "I have just come + from the Wheeler place, Miss Ellis, and I regret to say—" + </p> + <p> + "Charlotte is sick!" cried Miss Rosetta, rapidly. "Charlotte has got + another spell with her heart! I knew it! I've been expecting to hear it! + Any woman that drives about the country as much as she does is liable to + heart disease at any moment. <i>I</i> never go outside of my gate but I + meet her gadding off somewhere. Goodness knows who looks after her place. + I shouldn't like to trust as much to a hired man as she does. Well, it is + very kind of you, Mr. Patterson, to put yourself out to the extent of + calling to tell me that Charlotte is sick, but I don't really see why you + should take so much trouble—I really don't. It doesn't matter to me + whether Charlotte is sick or whether she isn't. YOU know that perfectly + well, Mr. Patterson, if anybody does. When Charlotte went and got married, + on the sly, to that good-for-nothing Jacob Wheeler—" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Wheeler is quite well," interrupted Mr. Patterson desperately. + "Quite well. Nothing at all the matter with her, in fact. I only—" + </p> + <p> + "Then what do you mean by coming here and telling me she wasn't, and + frightening me half to death?" demanded Miss Rosetta, indignantly. "My own + heart isn't very strong—it runs in our family—and my doctor + warned me to avoid all shocks and excitement. I don't want to be excited, + Mr. Patterson. I won't be excited, not even if Charlotte has another + spell. It's perfectly useless for you to try to excite me, Mr. Patterson." + </p> + <p> + "Bless the woman, I'm not trying to excite anybody!" declared Mr. + Patterson in exasperation. "I merely called to tell you—" + </p> + <p> + "To tell me WHAT?" said Miss Rosetta. "How much longer do you mean to keep + me in suspense, Mr. Patterson. No doubt you have abundance of spare time, + but—I—have NOT." + </p> + <p> + "—that your sister, Mrs. Wheeler, has had a letter from a cousin of + yours, and she's in Charlottetown. Mrs. Roberts, I think her name is—" + </p> + <p> + "Jane Roberts," broke in Miss Rosetta. "Jane Ellis she was, before she was + married. What was she writing to Charlotte about? Not that I want to know, + of course. I'm not interested in Charlotte's correspondence, goodness + knows. But if Jane had anything in particular to write about she should + have written to ME. I am the oldest. Charlotte had no business to get a + letter from Jane Roberts without consulting me. It's just like her + underhanded ways. She got married the same way. Never said a word to me + about it, but just sneaked off with that unprincipled Jacob Wheeler—" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Roberts is very ill. I understand," persisted Mr. Patterson, nobly + resolved to do what he had come to do, "dying, in fact, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Jane ill! Jane dying!" exclaimed Miss Rosetta. "Why, she was the + healthiest girl I ever knew! But then I've never seen her, nor heard from + her, since she got married fifteen years ago. I dare say her husband was a + brute and neglected her, and she's pined away by slow degrees. I've no + faith in husbands. Look at Charlotte! Everybody knows how Jacob Wheeler + used her. To be sure, she deserved it, but—" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Roberts' husband is dead," said Mr. Patterson. "Died about two + months ago, I understand, and she has a little baby six months old, and + she thought perhaps Mrs. Wheeler would take it for old times' sake—" + </p> + <p> + "Did Charlotte ask you to call and tell me this?" demanded Miss Rosetta + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + "No; she just told me what was in the letter. She didn't mention you; but + I thought, perhaps, you ought to be told—" + </p> + <p> + "I knew it," said Miss Rosetta in a tone of bitter assurance. "I could + have told you so. Charlotte wouldn't even let me know that Jane was ill. + Charlotte would be afraid I would want to get the baby, seeing that Jane + and I were such intimate friends long ago. And who has a better right to + it than me, I should like to know? Ain't I the oldest? And haven't I had + experience in bringing up babies? Charlotte needn't think she is going to + run the affairs of our family just because she happened to get married. + Jacob Wheeler—" + </p> + <p> + "I must be going," said Mr. Patterson, gathering up his reins thankfully. + </p> + <p> + "I am much obliged to you for coming to tell me about Jane," said Miss + Rosetta, "even though you have wasted a lot of precious time getting it + out. If it hadn't been for you I suppose I should never have known it at + all. As it is, I shall start for town just as soon as I can get ready." + </p> + <p> + "You'll have to hurry if you want to get ahead of Mrs. Wheeler," advised + Mr. Patterson. "She's packing her trunk and going on the morning train." + </p> + <p> + "I'll pack a valise and go on the afternoon train," retorted Miss Rosetta + triumphantly. "I'll show Charlotte she isn't running the Ellis affairs. + She married out of them into the Wheelers. She can attend to them. Jacob + Wheeler was the most—" + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Patterson had driven away. He felt that he had done his duty in + the face of fearful odds, and he did not want to hear anything more about + Jacob Wheeler. + </p> + <p> + Rosetta Ellis and Charlotte Wheeler had not exchanged a word for ten + years. Before that time they had been devoted to each other, living + together in the little Ellis cottage on the White Sands road, as they had + done ever since their parents' death. The trouble began when Jacob Wheeler + had commenced to pay attention to Charlotte, the younger and prettier of + two women who had both ceased to be either very young or very pretty. + Rosetta had been bitterly opposed to the match from the first. She vowed + she had no use for Jacob Wheeler. There were not lacking malicious people + to hint that this was because the aforesaid Jacob Wheeler had selected the + wrong sister upon whom to bestow his affections. Be that as it might, Miss + Rosetta certainly continued to render the course of Jacob Wheeler's true + love exceedingly rough and tumultuous. The end of it was that Charlotte + had gone quietly away one morning and married Jacob Wheeler without Miss + Rosetta's knowing anything about it. Miss Rosetta had never forgiven her + for it, and Charlotte had never forgiven the things Rosetta had said to + her when she and Jacob returned to the Ellis cottage. Since then the + sisters had been avowed and open foes, the only difference being that Miss + Rosetta aired her grievances publicly, in season and out of season, while + Charlotte was never heard to mention Rosetta's name. Even the death of + Jacob Wheeler, five years after the marriage, had not healed the breach. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta took out her curl-papers, packed her valise, and caught the + late afternoon train for Charlottetown, as she had threatened. All the way + there she sat rigidly upright in her seat and held imaginary dialogues + with Charlotte in her mind, running something like this on her part:— + </p> + <p> + "No, Charlotte Wheeler, you are not going to have Jane's baby, and you're + very much mistaken if you think so. Oh, all right—we'll see! You + don't know anything about babies, even if you are married. I do. Didn't I + take William Ellis's baby, when his wife died? Tell me that, Charlotte + Wheeler! And didn't the little thing thrive with me, and grow strong and + healthy? Yes, even you have to admit that it did, Charlotte Wheeler. And + yet you have the presumption to think that you ought to have Jane's baby! + Yes, it is presumption, Charlotte Wheeler. And when William Ellis got + married again, and took the baby, didn't the child cling to me and cry as + if I was its real mother? You know it did, Charlotte Wheeler. I'm going to + get and keep Jane's baby in spite of you, Charlotte Wheeler, and I'd like + to see you try to prevent me—you that went and got married and never + so much as let your own sister know of it! If I had got married in such a + fashion, Charlotte Wheeler, I'd be ashamed to look anybody in the face for + the rest of my natural life!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta was so interested in thus laying down the law to Charlotte, + and in planning out the future life of Jane's baby, that she didn't find + the journey to Charlottetown so long or tedious as might have been + expected, considering her haste. She soon found her way to the house where + her cousin lived. There, to her dismay and real sorrow, she learned that + Mrs. Roberts had died at four o'clock that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + "She seemed dreadful anxious to live until she heard from some of her + folks out in Avonlea," said the woman who gave Miss Rosetta the + information. "She had written to them about her little girl. She was my + sister-in-law, and she lived with me ever since her husband died. I've + done my best for her; but I've a big family of my own and I can't see how + I'm to keep the child. Poor Jane looked and longed for some one to come + from Avonlea, but she couldn't hold out. A patient, suffering creature she + was!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm her cousin," said Miss Rosetta, wiping her eyes, "and I have come for + the baby. I'll take it home with me after the funeral; and, if you please, + Mrs. Gordon, let me see it right away, so it can get accustomed to me. + Poor Jane! I wish I could have got here in time to see her, she and I were + such friends long ago. We were far more intimate and confidential than + ever her and Charlotte was. Charlotte knows that, too!" + </p> + <p> + The vim with which Miss Rosetta snapped this out rather amazed Mrs. + Gordon, who couldn't understand it at all. But she took Miss Rosetta + upstairs to the room where the baby was sleeping. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the little darling," cried Miss Rosetta, all her old maidishness and + oddity falling away from her like a garment, and all her innate and denied + motherhood shining out in her face like a transforming illumination. "Oh, + the sweet, dear, pretty little thing!" + </p> + <p> + The baby was a darling—a six-months' old beauty with little golden + ringlets curling and glistening all over its tiny head. As Miss Rosetta + hung over it, it opened its eyes and then held out its tiny hands to her + with a gurgle of confidence. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you sweetest!" said Miss Rosetta rapturously, gathering it up in her + arms. "You belong to me, darling—never, never, to that under-handed + Charlotte! What is its name, Mrs. Gordon?" + </p> + <p> + "It wasn't named," said Mrs. Gordon. "Guess you'll have to name it + yourself, Miss Ellis." + </p> + <p> + "Camilla Jane," said Miss Rosetta without a moment's hesitation. "Jane + after its mother, of course; and I have always thought Camilla the + prettiest name in the world. Charlotte would be sure to give it some + perfectly heathenish name. I wouldn't put it past her calling the poor + innocent Mehitable." + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta decided to stay in Charlottetown until after the funeral. + That night she lay with the baby on her arm, listening with joy to its + soft little breathing. She did not sleep or wish to sleep. Her waking + fancies were more alluring than any visions of dreamland. Moreover, she + gave a spice to them by occasionally snapping some vicious sentences out + loud at Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta fully expected Charlotte along on the following morning and + girded herself for the fray; but no Charlotte appeared. Night came; no + Charlotte. Another morning and no Charlotte. Miss Rosetta was hopelessly + puzzled. What had happened? Dear, dear, had Charlotte taken a bad heart + spell, on hearing that she, Rosetta, had stolen a march on her to + Charlottetown? It was quite likely. You never knew what to expect of a + woman who had married Jacob Wheeler! + </p> + <p> + The truth was, that the very evening Miss Rosetta had left Avonlea Mrs. + Jacob Wheeler's hired man had broken his leg and had had to be conveyed to + his distant home on a feather bed in an express wagon. Mrs. Wheeler could + not leave home until she had obtained another hired man. Consequently, it + was the evening after the funeral when Mrs. Wheeler whisked up the steps + of the Gordon house and met Miss Rosetta coming out with a big white + bundle in her arms. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the two women met defiantly. Miss Rosetta's face wore an air + of triumph, chastened by a remembrance of the funeral that afternoon. Mrs. + Wheeler's face, except for eyes, was as expressionless as it usually was. + Unlike the tall, fair, fat Miss Rosetta, Mrs. Wheeler was small and dark + and thin, with an eager, careworn face. + </p> + <p> + "How is Jane?" she said abruptly, breaking the silence of ten years in + saying it. + </p> + <p> + "Jane is dead and buried, poor thing," said Miss Rosetta calmly. "I am + taking her baby, little Camilla Jane, home with me." + </p> + <p> + "The baby belongs to me," cried Mrs. Wheeler passionately. "Jane wrote to + me about her. Jane meant that I should have her. I've come for her." + </p> + <p> + "You'll go back without her then," said Miss Rosetta, serene in the + possession that is nine points of the law. "The child is mine, and she is + going to stay mine. You can make up your mind to that, Charlotte Wheeler. + A woman who eloped to get married isn't fit to be trusted with a baby, + anyhow. Jacob Wheeler—" + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Wheeler had rushed past into the house. Miss Rosetta composedly + stepped into the cab and drove to the station. She fairly bridled with + triumph; and underneath the triumph ran a queer undercurrent of + satisfaction over the fact that Charlotte had spoken to her at last. Miss + Rosetta would not look at this satisfaction, or give it a name, but it was + there. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta arrived safely back in Avonlea with Camilla Jane and within + ten hours everybody in the settlement knew the whole story, and every + woman who could stand on her feet had been up to the Ellis cottage to see + the baby. Mrs. Wheeler arrived home twenty-four hours later, and silently + betook herself to her farm. When her Avonlea neighbors sympathized with + her in her disappointment, she said nothing, but looked all the more + darkly determined. Also, a week later, Mr. William J. Blair, the Carmody + storekeeper, had an odd tale to tell. Mrs. Wheeler had come to the store + and bought a lot of fine flannel and muslin and valenciennes. Now, what in + the name of time, did Mrs. Wheeler want with such stuff? Mr. William J. + Blair couldn't make head or tail of it, and it worried him. Mr. Blair was + so accustomed to know what everybody bought anything for that such a + mystery quite upset him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta had exulted in the possession of little Camilla Jane for a + month, and had been so happy that she had almost given up inveighing + against Charlotte. Her conversations, instead of tending always to Jacob + Wheeler, now ran Camilla Janeward; and this, folks thought, was an + improvement. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, Miss Rosetta, leaving Camilla Jane snugly sleeping in her + cradle in the kitchen, had slipped down to the bottom of the garden to + pick her currants. The house was hidden from her sight by the copse of + cherry trees, but she had left the kitchen window open, so that she could + hear the baby if it awakened and cried. Miss Rosetta sang happily as she + picked her currants. For the first time since Charlotte had married Jacob + Wheeler Miss Rosetta felt really happy—so happy that there was no + room in her heart for bitterness. In fancy she looked forward to the + coming years, and saw Camilla Jane growing up into girlhood, fair and + lovable. + </p> + <p> + "She'll be a beauty," reflected Miss Rosetta complacently. "Jane was a + handsome girl. She shall always be dressed as nice as I can manage it, and + I'll get her an organ, and have her take painting and music lessons. + Parties, too! I'll give her a real coming-out party when she's eighteen + and the very prettiest dress that's to be had. Dear me, I can hardly wait + for her to grow up, though she's sweet enough now to make one wish she + could stay a baby forever." + </p> + <p> + When Miss Rosetta returned to the kitchen, her eyes fell on an empty + cradle. Camilla Jane was gone! + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta promptly screamed. She understood at a glance what had + happened. Six months' old babies do not get out of their cradles and + disappear through closed doors without any assistance. + </p> + <p> + "Charlotte has been here," gasped Miss Rosetta. "Charlotte has stolen + Camilla Jane! I might have expected it. I might have known when I heard + that story about her buying muslin and flannel. It's just like Charlotte + to do such an underhand trick. But I'll go after her! I'll show her! + She'll find out she has got Rosetta Ellis to deal with and no Wheeler!" + </p> + <p> + Like a frantic creature and wholly forgetting that her hair was in + curl-papers, Miss Rosetta hurried up the hill and down the shore road to + the Wheeler Farm—a place she had never visited in her life before. + </p> + <p> + The wind was off-shore and only broke the bay's surface into long silvery + ripples, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it from every point and + headland, like transparent wings. + </p> + <p> + The little gray house, so close to the purring waves that in storms their + spray splashed over its very doorstep, seemed deserted. Miss Rosetta + pounded lustily on the front door. This producing no result, she marched + around to the back door and knocked. No answer. Miss Rosetta tried the + door. It was locked. + </p> + <p> + "Guilty conscience," sniffed Miss Rosetta. "Well, I shall stay here until + I see that perfidious Charlotte, if I have to camp in the yard all night." + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta was quite capable of doing this, but she was spared the + necessity; walking boldly up to the kitchen window, and peering through + it, she felt her heart swell with anger as she beheld Charlotte sitting + calmly by the table with Camilla Jane on her knee. Beside her was a + befrilled and bemuslined cradle, and on a chair lay the garments in which + Miss Rosetta had dressed the baby. It was clad in an entirely new outfit, + and seemed quite at home with its new possessor. It was laughing and + cooing, and making little dabs at her with its dimpled hands. + </p> + <p> + "Charlotte Wheeler," cried Miss Rosetta, rapping sharply on the + window-pane. "I've come for that child! Bring her out to me at once—at + once, I say! How dare you come to my house and steal a baby? You're no + better than a common burglar. Give me Camilla Jane, I say!" + </p> + <p> + Charlotte came over to the window with the baby in her arms and triumph + glittering in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "There is no such child as Camilla Jane here," she said. "This is Barbara + Jane. She belongs to me." + </p> + <p> + With that Mrs. Wheeler pulled down the shade. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta had to go home. There was nothing else for her to do. On her + way she met Mr. Patterson and told him in full the story of her wrongs. It + was all over Avonlea by night, and created quite a sensation. Avonlea had + not had such a toothsome bit of gossip for a long time. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wheeler exulted in the possession of Barbara Jane for six weeks, + during which Miss Rosetta broke her heart with loneliness and longing, and + meditated futile plots for the recovery of the baby. It was hopeless to + think of stealing it back or she would have tried to. The hired man at the + Wheeler place reported that Mrs. Wheeler never left it night or day for a + single moment. She even carried it with her when she went to milk the + cows. + </p> + <p> + "But my turn will come," said Miss Rosetta grimly. "Camilla Jane is mine, + and if she was called Barbara for a century it wouldn't alter that fact! + Barbara, indeed! Why not have called her Methusaleh and have done with + it?" + </p> + <p> + One afternoon in October, when Miss Rosetta was picking her apples and + thinking drearily about lost Camilla Jane, a woman came running + breathlessly down the hill and into the yard. Miss Rosetta gave an + exclamation of amazement and dropped her basket of apples. Of all + incredible things! The woman was Charlotte—Charlotte who had never + set foot on the grounds of the Ellis cottage since her marriage ten years + ago, Charlotte, bare-headed, wild-eyed, distraught, wringing her hands and + sobbing. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta flew to meet her. + </p> + <p> + "You've scalded Camilla Jane to death!" she exclaimed. "I always knew you + would—always expected it!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, for heaven's sake, come quick, Rosetta!" gasped Charlotte. "Barbara + Jane is in convulsions and I don't know what to do. The hired man has gone + for the doctor. You were the nearest, so I came to you. Jenny White was + there when they came on, so I left her and ran. Oh, Rosetta, come, come, + if you have a spark of humanity in you! You know what to do for + convulsions—you saved the Ellis baby when it had them. Oh, come and + save Barbara Jane!" + </p> + <p> + "You mean Camilla Jane, I presume?" said Miss Rosetta firmly, in spite of + her agitation. + </p> + <p> + For a second Charlotte Wheeler hesitated. Then she said passionately: + "Yes, yes, Camilla Jane—any name you like! Only come." + </p> + <p> + Miss Rosetta went, and not a moment too soon, either. The doctor lived + eight miles away and the baby was very bad. The two women and Jenny White + worked over her for hours. It was not until dark, when the baby was + sleeping soundly and the doctor had gone, after telling Miss Rosetta that + she had saved the child's life, that a realization of the situation came + home to them. + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Miss Rosetta, dropping into an armchair with a long sigh of + weariness, "I guess you'll admit now, Charlotte Wheeler, that you are + hardly a fit person to have charge of a baby, even if you had to go and + steal it from me. I should think your conscience would reproach you—that + is, if any woman who would marry Jacob Wheeler in such an underhanded + fashion has a—" + </p> + <p> + "I—I wanted the baby," sobbed Charlotte, tremulously. "I was so + lonely here. I didn't think it was any harm to take her, because Jane gave + her to me in her letter. But you have saved her life, Rosetta, and you—you + can have her back, although it will break my heart to give her up. But, + oh, Rosetta, won't you let me come and see her sometimes? I love her so I + can't bear to give her up entirely." + </p> + <p> + "Charlotte," said Miss Rosetta firmly, "the most sensible thing for you to + do is just to come back with the baby. You are worried to death trying to + run this farm with the debt Jacob Wheeler left on it for you. Sell it, and + come home with me. And we'll both have the baby then." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Rosetta, I'd love to," faltered Charlotte. "I've—I've wanted to + be good friends with you again so much. But I thought you were so hard and + bitter you'd never make up." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe I've talked too much," conceded Miss Rosetta, "but you ought to + know me well enough to know I didn't mean a word of it. It was your never + saying anything, no matter what I said, that riled me up so bad. Let + bygones be bygones, and come home, Charlotte." + </p> + <p> + "I will," said Charlotte resolutely, wiping away her tears. "I'm sick of + living here and putting up with hired men. I'll be real glad to go home, + Rosetta, and that's the truth. I've had a hard enough time. I s'pose + you'll say I deserved it; but I was fond of Jacob, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Of course, of course. Why shouldn't you be?" said Miss Rosetta briskly. + "I'm sure Jacob Wheeler was a good enough soul, if he was a little + slack-twisted. I'd like to hear anybody say a word against him in my + presence. Look at that blessed child, Charlotte. Isn't she the sweetest + thing? I'm desperate glad you are coming back home, Charlotte. I've never + been able to put up a decent mess of mustard pickles since you went away, + and you were always such a hand with them! We'll be real snug and cozy + again—you and me and little Camilla Barbara Jane." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. THE DREAM-CHILD + </h2> + <p> + A man's heart—aye, and a woman's, too—should be light in the + spring. The spirit of resurrection is abroad, calling the life of the + world out of its wintry grave, knocking with radiant fingers at the gates + of its tomb. It stirs in human hearts, and makes them glad with the old + primal gladness they felt in childhood. It quickens human souls, and + brings them, if so they will, so close to God that they may clasp hands + with Him. It is a time of wonder and renewed life, and a great outward and + inward rapture, as of a young angel softly clapping his hands for + creation's joy. At least, so it should be; and so it always had been with + me until the spring when the dream-child first came into our lives. + </p> + <p> + That year I hated the spring—I, who had always loved it so. As boy I + had loved it, and as man. All the happiness that had ever been mine, and + it was much, had come to blossom in the springtime. It was in the spring + that Josephine and I had first loved each other, or, at least, had first + come into the full knowledge that we loved. I think that we must have + loved each other all our lives, and that each succeeding spring was a word + in the revelation of that love, not to be understood until, in the + fullness of time, the whole sentence was written out in that most + beautiful of all beautiful springs. + </p> + <p> + How beautiful it was! And how beautiful she was! I suppose every lover + thinks that of his lass; otherwise he is a poor sort of lover. But it was + not only my eyes of love that made my dear lovely. She was slim and lithe + as a young, white-stemmed birch tree; her hair was like a soft, dusky + cloud; and her eyes were as blue as Avonlea harbor on a fair twilight, + when all the sky is abloom over it. She had dark lashes, and a little red + mouth that quivered when she was very sad or very happy, or when she loved + very much—quivered like a crimson rose too rudely shaken by the + wind. At such times what was a man to do save kiss it? + </p> + <p> + The next spring we were married, and I brought her home to my gray old + homestead on the gray old harbor shore. A lonely place for a young bride, + said Avonlea people. Nay, it was not so. She was happy here, even in my + absences. She loved the great, restless harbor and the vast, misty sea + beyond; she loved the tides, keeping their world-old tryst with the shore, + and the gulls, and the croon of the waves, and the call of the winds in + the fir woods at noon and even; she loved the moonrises and the sunsets, + and the clear, calm nights when the stars seemed to have fallen into the + water and to be a little dizzy from such a fall. She loved these things, + even as I did. No, she was never lonely here then. + </p> + <p> + The third spring came, and our boy was born. We thought we had been happy + before; now we knew that we had only dreamed a pleasant dream of + happiness, and had awakened to this exquisite reality. We thought we had + loved each other before; now, as I looked into my wife's pale face, + blanched with its baptism of pain, and met the uplifted gaze of her blue + eyes, aglow with the holy passion of motherhood, I knew we had only + imagined what love might be. The imagination had been sweet, as the + thought of the rose is sweet before the bud is open; but as the rose to + the thought, so was love to the imagination of it. + </p> + <p> + "All my thoughts are poetry since baby came," my wife said once, + rapturously. + </p> + <p> + Our boy lived for twenty months. He was a sturdy, toddling rogue, so full + of life and laughter and mischief that, when he died, one day, after the + illness of an hour, it seemed a most absurd thing that he should be dead—a + thing I could have laughed at, until belief forced itself into my soul + like a burning, searing iron. + </p> + <p> + I think I grieved over my little son's death as deeply and sincerely as + ever man did, or could. But the heart of the father is not as the heart of + the mother. Time brought no healing to Josephine; she fretted and pined; + her cheeks lost their pretty oval, and her red mouth grew pale and + drooping. + </p> + <p> + I hoped that spring might work its miracle upon her. When the buds + swelled, and the old earth grew green in the sun, and the gulls came back + to the gray harbor, whose very grayness grew golden and mellow, I thought + I should see her smile again. But, when the spring came, came the + dream-child, and the fear that was to be my companion, at bed and board, + from sunsetting to sunsetting. + </p> + <p> + One night I awakened from sleep, realizing in the moment of awakening that + I was alone. I listened to hear whether my wife were moving about the + house. I heard nothing but the little splash of waves on the shore below + and the low moan of the distant ocean. + </p> + <p> + I rose and searched the house. She was not in it. I did not know where to + seek her; but, at a venture, I started along the shore. + </p> + <p> + It was pale, fainting moonlight. The harbor looked like a phantom harbor, + and the night was as still and cold and calm as the face of a dead man. At + last I saw my wife coming to me along the shore. When I saw her, I knew + what I had feared and how great my fear had been. + </p> + <p> + As she drew near, I saw that she had been crying; her face was stained + with tears, and her dark hair hung loose over her shoulders in little, + glossy ringlets like a child's. She seemed to be very tired, and at + intervals she wrung her small hands together. + </p> + <p> + She showed no surprise when she met me, but only held out her hands to me + as if glad to see me. + </p> + <p> + "I followed him—but I could not overtake him," she said with a sob. + "I did my best—I hurried so; but he was always a little way ahead. + And then I lost him—and so I came back. But I did my best—indeed + I did. And oh, I am so tired!" + </p> + <p> + "Josie, dearest, what do you mean, and where have you been?" I said, + drawing her close to me. "Why did you go out so—alone in the night?" + </p> + <p> + She looked at me wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "How could I help it, David? He called me. I had to go." + </p> + <p> + "WHO called you?" + </p> + <p> + "The child," she answered in a whisper. "Our child, David—our pretty + boy. I awakened in the darkness and heard him calling to me down on the + shore. Such a sad, little wailing cry, David, as if he were cold and + lonely and wanted his mother. I hurried out to him, but I could not find + him. I could only hear the call, and I followed it on and on, far down the + shore. Oh, I tried so hard to overtake it, but I could not. Once I saw a + little white hand beckoning to me far ahead in the moonlight. But still I + could not go fast enough. And then the cry ceased, and I was there all + alone on that terrible, cold, gray shore. I was so tired and I came home. + But I wish I could have found him. Perhaps he does not know that I tried + to. Perhaps he thinks his mother never listened to his call. Oh, I would + not have him think that." + </p> + <p> + "You have had a bad dream, dear," I said. I tried to say it naturally; but + it is hard for a man to speak naturally when he feels a mortal dread + striking into his very vitals with its deadly chill. + </p> + <p> + "It was no dream," she answered reproachfully. "I tell you I heard him + calling me—me, his mother. What could I do but go to him? You cannot + understand—you are only his father. It was not you who gave him + birth. It was not you who paid the price of his dear life in pain. He + would not call to you—he wanted his mother." + </p> + <p> + I got her back to the house and to her bed, whither she went obediently + enough, and soon fell into the sleep of exhaustion. But there was no more + sleep for me that night. I kept a grim vigil with dread. + </p> + <p> + When I had married Josephine, one of those officious relatives that are + apt to buzz about a man's marriage told me that her grandmother had been + insane all the latter part of her life. She had grieved over the death of + a favorite child until she lost her mind, and, as the first indication of + it, she had sought by nights a white dream-child which always called her, + so she said, and led her afar with a little, pale, beckoning hand. + </p> + <p> + I had smiled at the story then. What had that grim old bygone to do with + springtime and love and Josephine? But it came back to me now, hand in + hand with my fear. Was this fate coming on my dear wife? It was too + horrible for belief. She was so young, so fair, so sweet, this girl-wife + of mine. It had been only a bad dream, with a frightened, bewildered + waking. So I tried to comfort myself. + </p> + <p> + When she awakened in the morning she did not speak of what had happened + and I did not dare to. She seemed more cheerful that day than she had + been, and went about her household duties briskly and skillfully. My fear + lifted. I was sure now that she had only dreamed. And I was confirmed in + my hopeful belief when two nights had passed away uneventfully. + </p> + <p> + Then, on the third night, the dream-child called to her again. I wakened + from a troubled doze to find her dressing herself with feverish haste. + </p> + <p> + "He is calling me," she cried. "Oh, don't you hear him? Can't you hear + him? Listen—listen—the little, lonely cry! Yes, yes, my + precious, mother is coming. Wait for me. Mother is coming to her pretty + boy!" + </p> + <p> + I caught her hand and let her lead me where she would. Hand in hand we + followed the dream-child down the harbor shore in that ghostly, clouded + moonlight. Ever, she said, the little cry sounded before her. She + entreated the dream-child to wait for her; she cried and implored and + uttered tender mother-talk. But, at last, she ceased to hear the cry; and + then, weeping, wearied, she let me lead her home again. + </p> + <p> + What a horror brooded over that spring—that so beautiful spring! It + was a time of wonder and marvel; of the soft touch of silver rain on + greening fields; of the incredible delicacy of young leaves; of blossom on + the land and blossom in the sunset. The whole world bloomed in a flush and + tremor of maiden loveliness, instinct with all the evasive, fleeting charm + of spring and girlhood and young morning. And almost every night of this + wonderful time the dream-child called his mother, and we roved the gray + shore in quest of him. + </p> + <p> + In the day she was herself; but, when the night fell, she was restless and + uneasy until she heard the call. Then follow it she would, even through + storm and darkness. It was then, she said, that the cry sounded loudest + and nearest, as if her pretty boy were frightened by the tempest. What + wild, terrible rovings we had, she straining forward, eager to overtake + the dream-child; I, sick at heart, following, guiding, protecting, as best + I could; then afterwards leading her gently home, heart-broken because she + could not reach the child. + </p> + <p> + I bore my burden in secret, determining that gossip should not busy itself + with my wife's condition so long as I could keep it from becoming known. + We had no near relatives—none with any right to share any trouble—and + whoso accepteth human love must bind it to his soul with pain. + </p> + <p> + I thought, however, that I should have medical advice, and I took our old + doctor into my confidence. He looked grave when he heard my story. I did + not like his expression nor his few guarded remarks. He said he thought + human aid would avail little; she might come all right in time; humor her, + as far as possible, watch over her, protect her. He needed not to tell me + THAT. + </p> + <p> + The spring went out and summer came in—and the horror deepened and + darkened. I knew that suspicions were being whispered from lip to lip. We + had been seen on our nightly quests. Men and women began to look at us + pityingly when we went abroad. + </p> + <p> + One day, on a dull, drowsy afternoon, the dream-child called. I knew then + that the end was near; the end had been near in the old grandmother's case + sixty years before when the dream-child called in the day. The doctor + looked graver than ever when I told him, and said that the time had come + when I must have help in my task. I could not watch by day and night. + Unless I had assistance I would break down. + </p> + <p> + I did not think that I should. Love is stronger than that. And on one + thing I was determined—they should never take my wife from me. No + restraint sterner than a husband's loving hand should ever be put upon + her, my pretty, piteous darling. + </p> + <p> + I never spoke of the dream-child to her. The doctor advised against it. It + would, he said, only serve to deepen the delusion. When he hinted at an + asylum I gave him a look that would have been a fierce word for another + man. He never spoke of it again. + </p> + <p> + One night in August there was a dull, murky sunset after a dead, + breathless day of heat, with not a wind stirring. The sea was not blue as + a sea should be, but pink—all pink—a ghastly, staring, painted + pink. I lingered on the harbor shore below the house until dark. The + evening bells were ringing faintly and mournfully in a church across the + harbor. Behind me, in the kitchen, I heard my wife singing. Sometimes now + her spirits were fitfully high, and then she would sing the old songs of + her girlhood. But even in her singing was something strange, as if a + wailing, unearthly cry rang through it. Nothing about her was sadder than + that strange singing. + </p> + <p> + When I went back to the house the rain was beginning to fall; but there + was no wind or sound in the air—only that dismal stillness, as if + the world were holding its breath in expectation of a calamity. + </p> + <p> + Josie was standing by the window, looking out and listening. I tried to + induce her to go to bed, but she only shook her head. + </p> + <p> + "I might fall asleep and not hear him when he called," she said. "I am + always afraid to sleep now, for fear he should call and his mother fail to + hear him." + </p> + <p> + Knowing it was of no use to entreat, I sat down by the table and tried to + read. Three hours passed on. When the clock struck midnight she started + up, with the wild light in her sunken blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + "He is calling," she cried, "calling out there in the storm. Yes, yes, + sweet, I am coming!" + </p> + <p> + She opened the door and fled down the path to the shore. I snatched a + lantern from the wall, lighted it, and followed. It was the blackest night + I was ever out in, dark with the very darkness of death. The rain fell + thickly and heavily. I overtook Josie, caught her hand, and stumbled along + in her wake, for she went with the speed and recklessness of a distraught + woman. We moved in the little flitting circle of light shed by the + lantern. All around us and above us was a horrible, voiceless darkness, + held, as it were, at bay by the friendly light. + </p> + <p> + "If I could only overtake him once," moaned Josie. "If I could just kiss + him once, and hold him close against my aching heart. This pain, that + never leaves me, would leave me than. Oh, my pretty boy, wait for mother! + I am coming to you. Listen, David; he cries—he cries so pitifully; + listen! Can't you hear it?" + </p> + <p> + I DID hear it! Clear and distinct, out of the deadly still darkness before + us, came a faint, wailing cry. What was it? Was I, too, going mad, or WAS + there something out there—something that cried and moaned—longing + for human love, yet ever retreating from human footsteps? I am not a + superstitious man; but my nerve had been shaken by my long trial, and I + was weaker than I thought. Terror took possession of me—terror + unnameable. I trembled in every limb; clammy perspiration oozed from my + forehead; I was possessed by a wild impulse to turn and flee—anywhere, + away from that unearthly cry. But Josephine's cold hand gripped mine + firmly, and led me on. That strange cry still rang in my ears. But it did + not recede; it sounded clearer and stronger; it was a wail; but a loud, + insistent wail; it was nearer—nearer; it was in the darkness just + beyond us. + </p> + <p> + Then we came to it; a little dory had been beached on the pebbles and left + there by the receding tide. There was a child in it—a boy, of + perhaps two years old, who crouched in the bottom of the dory in water to + his waist, his big, blue eyes wild and wide with terror, his face white + and tear-stained. He wailed again when he saw us, and held out his little + hands. + </p> + <p> + My horror fell away from me like a discarded garment. THIS child was + living. How he had come there, whence and why, I did not know and, in my + state of mind, did not question. It was no cry of parted spirit I had + heard—that was enough for me. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the poor darling!" cried my wife. + </p> + <p> + She stooped over the dory and lifted the baby in her arms. His long, fair + curls fell on her shoulder; she laid her face against his and wrapped her + shawl around him. + </p> + <p> + "Let me carry him, dear," I said. "He is very wet, and too heavy for you." + </p> + <p> + "No, no, I must carry him. My arms have been so empty—they are full + now. Oh, David, the pain at my heart has gone. He has come to me to take + the place of my own. God has sent him to me out of the sea. He is wet and + cold and tired. Hush, sweet one, we will go home." + </p> + <p> + Silently I followed her home. The wind was rising, coming in sudden, angry + gusts; the storm was at hand, but we reached shelter before it broke. Just + as I shut our door behind us it smote the house with the roar of a baffled + beast. I thanked God that we were not out in it, following the + dream-child. + </p> + <p> + "You are very wet, Josie," I said. "Go and put on dry clothes at once." + </p> + <p> + "The child must be looked to first," she said firmly. "See how chilled and + exhausted he is, the pretty dear. Light a fire quickly, David, while I get + dry things for him." + </p> + <p> + I let her have her way. She brought out the clothes our own child had worn + and dressed the waif in them, rubbing his chilled limbs, brushing his wet + hair, laughing over him, mothering him. She seemed like her old self. + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I was bewildered. All the questions I had not asked + before came crowding to my mind how. Whose child was this? Whence had he + come? What was the meaning of it all? + </p> + <p> + He was a pretty baby, fair and plump and rosy. When he was dried and fed, + he fell asleep in Josie's arms. She hung over him in a passion of delight. + It was with difficulty I persuaded her to leave him long enough to change + her wet clothes. She never asked whose he might be or from where he might + have come. He had been sent to her from the sea; the dream-child had led + her to him; that was what she believed, and I dared not throw any doubt on + that belief. She slept that night with the baby on her arm, and in her + sleep her face was the face of a girl in her youth, untroubled and unworn. + </p> + <p> + I expected that the morrow would bring some one seeking the baby. I had + come to the conclusion that he must belong to the "Cove" across the + harbor, where the fishing hamlet was; and all day, while Josie laughed and + played with him, I waited and listened for the footsteps of those who + would come seeking him. But they did not come. Day after day passed, and + still they did not come. + </p> + <p> + I was in a maze of perplexity. What should I do? I shrank from the thought + of the boy being taken away from us. Since we had found him the + dream-child had never called. My wife seemed to have turned back from the + dark borderland, where her feet had strayed to walk again with me in our + own homely paths. Day and night she was her old, bright self, happy and + serene in the new motherhood that had come to her. The only thing strange + in her was her calm acceptance of the event. She never wondered who or + whose the child might be—never seemed to fear that he would be taken + from her; and she gave him our dream-child's name. + </p> + <p> + At last, when a full week had passed, I went, in my bewilderment, to our + old doctor. + </p> + <p> + "A most extraordinary thing," he said thoughtfully. "The child, as you + say, must belong to the Spruce Cove people. Yet it is an almost + unbelievable thing that there has been no search or inquiry after him. + Probably there is some simple explanation of the mystery, however. I + advise you to go over to the Cove and inquire. When you find the parents + or guardians of the child, ask them to allow you to keep it for a time. It + may prove your wife's salvation. I have known such cases. Evidently on + that night the crisis of her mental disorder was reached. A little thing + might have sufficed to turn her feet either way—back to reason and + sanity, or into deeper darkness. It is my belief that the former has + occurred, and that, if she is left in undisturbed possession of this child + for a time, she will recover completely." + </p> + <p> + I drove around the harbor that day with a lighter heart than I had hoped + ever to possess again. When I reached Spruce Cove the first person I met + was old Abel Blair. I asked him if any child were missing from the Cove or + along shore. He looked at me in surprise, shook his head, and said he had + not heard of any. I told him as much of the tale as was necessary, leaving + him to think that my wife and I had found the dory and its small passenger + during an ordinary walk along the shore. + </p> + <p> + "A green dory!" he exclaimed. "Ben Forbes' old green dory has been missing + for a week, but it was so rotten and leaky he didn't bother looking for + it. But this child, sir—it beats me. What might he be like?" + </p> + <p> + I described the child as closely as possible. + </p> + <p> + "That fits little Harry Martin to a hair," said old Abel, perplexedly, + "but, sir, it can't be. Or, if it is, there's been foul work somewhere. + James Martin's wife died last winter, sir, and he died the next month. + They left a baby and not much else. There weren't nobody to take the child + but Jim's half-sister, Maggie Fleming. She lived here at the Cove, and, + I'm sorry to say, sir, she hadn't too good a name. She didn't want to be + bothered with the baby, and folks say she neglected him scandalous. Well, + last spring she begun talking of going away to the States. She said a + friend of hers had got her a good place in Boston, and she was going to go + and take little Harry. We supposed it was all right. Last Saturday she + went, sir. She was going to walk to the station, and the last seen of her + she was trudging along the road, carrying the baby. It hasn't been thought + of since. But, sir, d'ye suppose she set that innocent child adrift in + that old leaky dory to send him to his death? I knew Maggie was no better + than she should be, but I can't believe she was as bad as that." + </p> + <p> + "You must come over with me and see if you can identify the child," I + said. "If he is Harry Martin I shall keep him. My wife has been very + lonely since our baby died, and she has taken a fancy to this little + chap." + </p> + <p> + When we reached my home old Abel recognized the child as Harry Martin. + </p> + <p> + He is with us still. His baby hands led my dear wife back to health and + happiness. Other children have come to us, she loves them all dearly; but + the boy who bears her dead son's name is to her—aye, and to me—as + dear as if she had given him birth. He came from the sea, and at his + coming the ghostly dream-child fled, nevermore to lure my wife away from + me with its exciting cry. Therefore I look upon him and love him as my + first-born. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE BROTHER WHO FAILED + </h2> + <p> + The Monroe family were holding a Christmas reunion at the old Prince + Edward Island homestead at White Sands. It was the first time they had all + been together under one roof since the death of their mother, thirty years + before. The idea of this Christmas reunion had originated with Edith + Monroe the preceding spring, during her tedious convalescence from a bad + attack of pneumonia among strangers in an American city, where she had not + been able to fill her concert engagements, and had more spare time in + which to feel the tug of old ties and the homesick longing for her own + people than she had had for years. As a result, when she recovered, she + wrote to her second brother, James Monroe, who lived on the homestead; and + the consequence was this gathering of the Monroes under the old roof-tree. + Ralph Monroe for once laid aside the cares of his railroads, and the + deceitfulness of his millions, in Toronto and took the long-promised, + long-deferred trip to the homeland. Malcolm Monroe journeyed from the far + western university of which he was president. Edith came, flushed with the + triumph of her latest and most successful concert tour. Mrs. Woodburn, who + had been Margaret Monroe, came from the Nova Scotia town where she lived a + busy, happy life as the wife of a rising young lawyer. James, prosperous + and hearty, greeted them warmly at the old homestead whose fertile acres + had well repaid his skillful management. + </p> + <p> + They were a merry party, casting aside their cares and years, and harking + back to joyous boyhood and girlhood once more. James had a family of rosy + lads and lasses; Margaret brought her two blue-eyed little girls; Ralph's + dark, clever-looking son accompanied him, and Malcolm brought his, a young + man with a resolute face, in which there was less of boyishness than in + his father's, and the eyes of a keen, perhaps a hard bargainer. The two + cousins were the same age to a day, and it was a family joke among the + Monroes that the stork must have mixed the babies, since Ralph's son was + like Malcolm in face and brain, while Malcolm's boy was a second edition + of his uncle Ralph. + </p> + <p> + To crown all, Aunt Isabel came, too—a talkative, clever, shrewd old + lady, as young at eighty-five as she had been at thirty, thinking the + Monroe stock the best in the world, and beamingly proud of her nephews and + nieces, who had gone out from this humble, little farm to destinies of + such brilliance and influence in the world beyond. + </p> + <p> + I have forgotten Robert. Robert Monroe was apt to be forgotten. Although + he was the oldest of the family, White Sands people, in naming over the + various members of the Monroe family, would add, "and Robert," in a tone + of surprise over the remembrance of his existence. + </p> + <p> + He lived on a poor, sandy little farm down by the shore, but he had come + up to James' place on the evening when the guests arrived; they had all + greeted him warmly and joyously, and then did not think about him again in + their laughter and conversation. Robert sat back in a corner and listened + with a smile, but he never spoke. Afterwards he had slipped noiselessly + away and gone home, and nobody noticed his going. They were all gayly busy + recalling what had happened in the old times and telling what had happened + in the new. + </p> + <p> + Edith recounted the successes of her concert tours; Malcolm expatiated + proudly on his plans for developing his beloved college; Ralph described + the country through which his new railroad ran, and the difficulties he + had had to overcome in connection with it. James, aside, discussed his + orchard and his crops with Margaret, who had not been long enough away + from the farm to lose touch with its interests. Aunt Isabel knitted and + smiled complacently on all, talking now with one, now with the other, + secretly quite proud of herself that she, an old woman of eighty-five, who + had seldom been out of White Sands in her life, could discuss high finance + with Ralph, and higher education with Malcolm, and hold her own with James + in an argument on drainage. + </p> + <p> + The White Sands school teacher, an arch-eyed, red-mouthed bit a girl—a + Bell from Avonlea—who boarded with the James Monroes, amused herself + with the boys. All were enjoying themselves hugely, so it is not to be + wondered at that they did not miss Robert, who had gone home early because + his old housekeeper was nervous if left alone at night. + </p> + <p> + He came again the next afternoon. From James, in the barnyard, he learned + that Malcolm and Ralph had driven to the harbor, that Margaret and Mrs. + James had gone to call on friends in Avonlea, and that Edith was walking + somewhere in the woods on the hill. There was nobody in the house except + Aunt Isabel and the teacher. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better wait and stay the evening," said James, indifferently. + "They'll all be back soon." + </p> + <p> + Robert went across the yard and sat down on the rustic bench in the angle + of the front porch. It was a fine December evening, as mild as autumn; + there had been no snow, and the long fields, sloping down from the + homestead, were brown and mellow. A weird, dreamy stillness had fallen + upon the purple earth, the windless woods, the rain of the valleys, the + sere meadows. Nature seemed to have folded satisfied hands to rest, + knowing that her long, wintry slumber was coming upon her. Out to sea, a + dull, red sunset faded out into somber clouds, and the ceaseless voice of + many waters came up from the tawny shore. + </p> + <p> + Robert rested his chin on his hand and looked across the vales and hills, + where the feathery gray of leafless hardwoods was mingled with the sturdy, + unfailing green of the conebearers. He was a tall, bent man, with thin, + gray hair, a lined face, and deeply-set, gentle brown eyes—the eyes + of one who, looking through pain, sees rapture beyond. + </p> + <p> + He felt very happy. He loved his family clannishly, and he was rejoiced + that they were all again near to him. He was proud of their success and + fame. He was glad that James had prospered so well of late years. There + was no canker of envy or discontent in his soul. + </p> + <p> + He heard absently indistinct voices at the open hall window above the + porch, where Aunt Isabel was talking to Kathleen Bell. Presently Aunt + Isabel moved nearer to the window, and her words came down to Robert with + startling clearness. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I can assure you, Miss Bell, that I'm real proud of my nephews and + nieces. They're a smart family. They've almost all done well, and they + hadn't any of them much to begin with. Ralph had absolutely nothing and + to-day he is a millionaire. Their father met with so many losses, what + with his ill-health and the bank failing, that he couldn't help them any. + But they've all succeeded, except poor Robert—and I must admit that + he's a total failure." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, no," said the little teacher deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + "A total failure!" Aunt Isabel repeated her words emphatically. She was + not going to be contradicted by anybody, least of all a Bell from Avonlea. + "He has been a failure since the time he was born. He is the first Monroe + to disgrace the old stock that way. I'm sure his brothers and sisters must + be dreadfully ashamed of him. He has lived sixty years and he hasn't done + a thing worth while. He can't even make his farm pay. If he's kept out of + debt it's as much as he's ever managed to do." + </p> + <p> + "Some men can't even do that," murmured the little school teacher. She was + really so much in awe of this imperious, clever old Aunt Isabel that it + was positive heroism on her part to venture even this faint protest. + </p> + <p> + "More is expected of a Monroe," said Aunt Isabel majestically. "Robert + Monroe is a failure, and that is the only name for him." + </p> + <p> + Robert Monroe stood up below the window in a dizzy, uncertain fashion. + Aunt Isabel had been speaking of him! He, Robert, was a failure, a + disgrace to his blood, of whom his nearest and dearest were ashamed! Yes, + it was true; he had never realized it before; he had known that he could + never win power or accumulate riches, but he had not thought that mattered + much. Now, through Aunt Isabel's scornful eyes, he saw himself as the + world saw him—as his brothers and sisters must see him. THERE lay + the sting. What the world thought of him did not matter; but that his own + should think him a failure and disgrace was agony. He moaned as he started + to walk across the yard, only anxious to hide his pain and shame away from + all human sight, and in his eyes was the look of a gentle animal which had + been stricken by a cruel and unexpected blow. + </p> + <p> + Edith Monroe, who, unaware of Robert's proximity, had been standing on the + other side of the porch, saw that look, as he hurried past her, unseeing. + A moment before her dark eyes had been flashing with anger at Aunt + Isabel's words; now the anger was drowned in a sudden rush of tears. + </p> + <p> + She took a quick step after Robert, but checked the impulse. Not then—and + not by her alone—could that deadly hurt be healed. Nay, more, Robert + must never suspect that she knew of any hurt. She stood and watched him + through her tears as he went away across the low-lying shore fields to + hide his broken heart under his own humble roof. She yearned to hurry + after him and comfort him, but she knew that comfort was not what Robert + needed now. Justice, and justice only, could pluck out the sting, which + otherwise must rankle to the death. + </p> + <p> + Ralph and Malcolm were driving into the yard. Edith went over to them. + </p> + <p> + "Boys," she said resolutely, "I want to have a talk with you." + </p> + <p> + The Christmas dinner at the old homestead was a merry one. Mrs. James + spread a feast that was fit for the halls of Lucullus. Laughter, jest, and + repartee flew from lip to lip. Nobody appeared to notice that Robert ate + little, said nothing, and sat with his form shrinking in his shabby "best" + suit, his gray head bent even lower than usual, as if desirous of avoiding + all observation. When the others spoke to him he answered deprecatingly, + and shrank still further into himself. + </p> + <p> + Finally all had eaten all they could, and the remainder of the plum + pudding was carried out. Robert gave a low sigh of relief. It was almost + over. Soon he would be able to escape and hide himself and his shame away + from the mirthful eyes of these men and women who had earned the right to + laugh at the world in which their success gave them power and influence. + He—he—only—was a failure. + </p> + <p> + He wondered impatiently why Mrs. James did not rise. Mrs. James merely + leaned comfortably back in her chair, with the righteous expression of one + who has done her duty by her fellow creatures' palates, and looked at + Malcolm. + </p> + <p> + Malcolm rose in his place. Silence fell on the company; everybody looked + suddenly alert and expectant, except Robert. He still sat with bowed head, + wrapped in his own bitterness. + </p> + <p> + "I have been told that I must lead off," said Malcolm, "because I am + supposed to possess the gift of gab. But, if I do, I am not going to use + it for any rhetorical effect to-day. Simple, earnest words must express + the deepest feelings of the heart in doing justice to its own. Brothers + and sisters, we meet to-day under our own roof-tree, surrounded by the + benedictions of the past years. Perhaps invisible guests are here—the + spirits of those who founded this home and whose work on earth has long + been finished. It is not amiss to hope that this is so and our family + circle made indeed complete. To each one of us who are here in visible + bodily presence some measure of success has fallen; but only one of us has + been supremely successful in the only things that really count—the + things that count for eternity as well as time—sympathy and + unselfishness and self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + "I shall tell you my own story for the benefit of those who have not heard + it. When I was a lad of sixteen I started to work out my own education. + Some of you will remember that old Mr. Blair of Avonlea offered me a place + in his store for the summer, at wages which would go far towards paying my + expenses at the country academy the next winter. I went to work, eager and + hopeful. All summer I tried to do my faithful best for my employer. In + September the blow fell. A sum of money was missing from Mr. Blair's till. + I was suspected and discharged in disgrace. All my neighbors believed me + guilty; even some of my own family looked upon me with suspicion—nor + could I blame them, for the circumstantial evidence was strongly against + me." + </p> + <p> + Ralph and James looked ashamed; Edith and Margaret, who had not been born + at the time referred to, lifted their faces innocently. Robert did not + move or glance up. He hardly seemed to be listening. + </p> + <p> + "I was crushed in an agony of shame and despair," continued Malcolm. "I + believed my career was ruined. I was bent on casting all my ambitions + behind me, and going west to some place where nobody knew me or my + disgrace. But there was one person who believed in my innocence, who said + to me, 'You shall not give up—you shall not behave as if you were + guilty. You are innocent, and in time your innocence will be proved. + Meanwhile show yourself a man. You have nearly enough to pay your way next + winter at the Academy. I have a little I can give to help you out. Don't + give in—never give in when you have done no wrong.' + </p> + <p> + "I listened and took his advice. I went to the Academy. My story was there + as soon as I was, and I found myself sneered at and shunned. Many a time I + would have given up in despair, had it not been for the encouragement of + my counselor. He furnished the backbone for me. I was determined that his + belief in me should be justified. I studied hard and came out at the head + of my class. Then there seemed to be no chance of my earning any more + money that summer. But a farmer at Newbridge, who cared nothing about the + character of his help, if he could get the work out of them, offered to + hire me. The prospect was distasteful but, urged by the man who believed + in me, I took the place and endured the hardships. Another winter of + lonely work passed at the Academy. I won the Farrell Scholarship the last + year it was offered, and that meant an Arts course for me. I went to + Redmond College. My story was not openly known there, but something of it + got abroad, enough to taint my life there also with its suspicion. But the + year I graduated, Mr. Blair's nephew, who, as you know, was the real + culprit, confessed his guilt, and I was cleared before the world. Since + then my career has been what is called a brilliant one. But"—Malcolm + turned and laid his hand on Robert's thin shoulder—"all of my + success I owe to my brother Robert. It is his success—not mine—and + here to-day, since we have agreed to say what is too often left to be said + over a coffin lid, I thank him for all he did for me, and tell him that + there is nothing I am more proud of and thankful for than such a brother." + </p> + <p> + Robert had looked up at last, amazed, bewildered, incredulous. His face + crimsoned as Malcolm sat down. But now Ralph was getting up. + </p> + <p> + "I am no orator as Malcolm is," he quoted gayly, "but I've got a story to + tell, too, which only one of you knows. Forty years ago, when I started in + life as a business man, money wasn't so plentiful with me as it may be + to-day. And I needed it badly. A chance came my way to make a pile of it. + It wasn't a clean chance. It was a dirty chance. It looked square on the + surface; but, underneath, it meant trickery and roguery. I hadn't enough + perception to see that, though—I was fool enough to think it was all + right. I told Robert what I meant to do. And Robert saw clear through the + outward sham to the real, hideous thing underneath. He showed me what it + meant and he gave me a preachment about a few Monroe Traditions of truth + and honor. I saw what I had been about to do as he saw it—as all + good men and true must see it. And I vowed then and there that I'd never + go into anything that I wasn't sure was fair and square and clean through + and through. I've kept that vow. I am a rich man, and not a dollar of my + money is 'tainted' money. But I didn't make it. Robert really made every + cent of my money. If it hadn't been for him I'd have been a poor man + to-day, or behind prison bars, as are the other men who went into that + deal when I backed out. I've got a son here. I hope he'll be as clever as + his Uncle Malcolm; but I hope, still more earnestly, that he'll be as good + and honorable a man as his Uncle Robert." + </p> + <p> + By this time Robert's head was bent again, and his face buried in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + "My turn next," said James. "I haven't much to say—only this. After + mother died I took typhoid fever. Here I was with no one to wait on me. + Robert came and nursed me. He was the most faithful, tender, gentle nurse + ever a man had. The doctor said Robert saved my life. I don't suppose any + of the rest of us here can say we have saved a life." + </p> + <p> + Edith wiped away her tears and sprang up impulsively. + </p> + <p> + "Years ago," she said, "there was a poor, ambitious girl who had a voice. + She wanted a musical education and her only apparent chance of obtaining + it was to get a teacher's certificate and earn money enough to have her + voice trained. She studied hard, but her brains, in mathematics at least, + weren't as good as her voice, and the time was short. She failed. She was + lost in disappointment and despair, for that was the last year in which it + was possible to obtain a teacher's certificate without attending Queen's + Academy, and she could not afford that. Then her oldest brother came to + her and told her he could spare enough money to send her to the + conservatory of music in Halifax for a year. He made her take it. She + never knew till long afterwards that he had sold the beautiful horse which + he loved like a human creature, to get the money. She went to the Halifax + conservatory. She won a musical scholarship. She has had a happy life and + a successful career. And she owes it all to her brother Robert—" + </p> + <p> + But Edith could go no further. Her voice failed her and she sat down in + tears. Margaret did not try to stand up. + </p> + <p> + "I was only five when my mother died," she sobbed. "Robert was both father + and mother to me. Never had child or girl so wise and loving a guardian as + he was to me. I have never forgotten the lessons he taught me. Whatever + there is of good in my life or character I owe to him. I was often + headstrong and willful, but he never lost patience with me. I owe + everything to Robert." + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the little teacher rose with wet eyes and crimson cheeks. + </p> + <p> + "I have something to say, too," she said resolutely. "You have spoken for + yourselves. I speak for the people of White Sands. There is a man in this + settlement whom everybody loves. I shall tell you some of the things he + has done." + </p> + <p> + "Last fall, in an October storm, the harbor lighthouse flew a flag of + distress. Only one man was brave enough to face the danger of sailing to + the lighthouse to find out what the trouble was. That was Robert Monroe. + He found the keeper alone with a broken leg; and he sailed back and made—yes, + MADE the unwilling and terrified doctor go with him to the lighthouse. I + saw him when he told the doctor he must go; and I tell you that no man + living could have set his will against Robert Monroe's at that moment. + </p> + <p> + "Four years ago old Sarah Cooper was to be taken to the poorhouse. She was + broken-hearted. One man took the poor, bed-ridden, fretful old creature + into his home, paid for medical attendance, and waited on her himself, + when his housekeeper couldn't endure her tantrums and temper. Sarah Cooper + died two years afterwards, and her latest breath was a benediction on + Robert Monroe—the best man God ever made. + </p> + <p> + "Eight years ago Jack Blewitt wanted a place. Nobody would hire him, + because his father was in the penitentiary, and some people thought Jack + ought to be there, too. Robert Monroe hired him—and helped him, and + kept him straight, and got him started right—and Jack Blewitt is a + hard-working, respected young man to-day, with every prospect of a useful + and honorable life. There is hardly a man, woman, or child in White Sands + who doesn't owe something to Robert Monroe!" + </p> + <p> + As Kathleen Bell sat down, Malcolm sprang up and held out his hands. + </p> + <p> + "Every one of us stand up and sing Auld Lang Syne," he cried. + </p> + <p> + Everybody stood up and joined hands, but one did not sing. Robert Monroe + stood erect, with a great radiance on his face and in his eyes. His + reproach had been taken away; he was crowned among his kindred with the + beauty and blessing of sacred yesterdays. + </p> + <p> + When the singing ceased Malcolm's stern-faced son reached over and shook + Robert's hands. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle Rob," he said heartily, "I hope that when I'm sixty I'll be as + successful a man as you." + </p> + <p> + "I guess," said Aunt Isabel, aside to the little school teacher, as she + wiped the tears from her keen old eyes, "that there's a kind of failure + that's the best success." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. THE RETURN OF HESTER + </h2> + <p> + Just at dusk, that evening, I had gone upstairs and put on my muslin gown. + I had been busy all day attending to the strawberry preserving—for + Mary Sloane could not be trusted with that—and I was a little tired, + and thought it was hardly worth while to change my dress, especially since + there was nobody to see or care, since Hester was gone. Mary Sloane did + not count. + </p> + <p> + But I did it because Hester would have cared if she had been here. She + always liked to see me neat and dainty. So, although I was tired and sick + at heart, I put on my pale blue muslin and dressed my hair. + </p> + <p> + At first I did my hair up in a way I had always liked; but had seldom + worn, because Hester had disapproved of it. It became me; but I suddenly + felt as if it were disloyal to her, so I took the puffs down again and + arranged my hair in the plain, old-fashioned way she had liked. My hair, + though it had a good many gray threads in it, was thick and long and brown + still; but that did not matter—nothing mattered since Hester was + dead and I had sent Hugh Blair away for the second time. + </p> + <p> + The Newbridge people all wondered why I had not put on mourning for + Hester. I did not tell them it was because Hester had asked me not to. + Hester had never approved of mourning; she said that if the heart did not + mourn crape would not mend matters; and if it did there was no need of the + external trappings of woe. She told me calmly, the night before she died, + to go on wearing my pretty dresses just as I had always worn them, and to + make no difference in my outward life because of her going. + </p> + <p> + "I know there will be a difference in your inward life," she said + wistfully. + </p> + <p> + And oh, there was! But sometimes I wondered uneasily, feeling almost + conscience-stricken, whether it were wholly because Hester had left me—whether + it were not partly because, for a second time, I had shut the door of my + heart in the face of love at her bidding. + </p> + <p> + When I had dressed I went downstairs to the front door, and sat on the + sandstone steps under the arch of the Virginia creeper. I was all alone, + for Mary Sloane had gone to Avonlea. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful night; the full moon was just rising over the wooded + hills, and her light fell through the poplars into the garden before me. + Through an open corner on the western side I saw the sky all silvery blue + in the afterlight. The garden was very beautiful just then, for it was the + time of the roses, and ours were all out—so many of them—great + pink, and red, and white, and yellow roses. + </p> + <p> + Hester had loved roses and could never have enough of them. Her favorite + bush was growing by the steps, all gloried over with blossoms—white, + with pale pink hearts. I gathered a cluster and pinned it loosely on my + breast. But my eyes filled as I did so—I felt so very, very + desolate. + </p> + <p> + I was all alone, and it was bitter. The roses, much as I loved them, could + not give me sufficient companionship. I wanted the clasp of a human hand, + and the love-light in human eyes. And then I fell to thinking of Hugh, + though I tried not to. + </p> + <p> + I had always lived alone with Hester. I did not remember our parents, who + had died in my babyhood. Hester was fifteen years older than I, and she + had always seemed more like a mother than a sister. She had been very good + to me and had never denied me anything I wanted, save the one thing that + mattered. + </p> + <p> + I was twenty-five before I ever had a lover. This was not, I think, + because I was more unattractive than other women. The Merediths had always + been the "big" family of Newbridge. The rest of the people looked up to + us, because we were the granddaughters of old Squire Meredith. The + Newbridge young men would have thought it no use to try to woo a Meredith. + </p> + <p> + I had not a great deal of family pride, as perhaps I should be ashamed to + confess. I found our exalted position very lonely, and cared more for the + simple joys of friendship and companionship which other girls had. But + Hester possessed it in a double measure; she never allowed me to associate + on a level of equality with the young people of Newbridge. We must be very + nice and kind and affable to them—<i>noblesse oblige</i>, as it were—but + we must never forget that we were Merediths. + </p> + <p> + When I was twenty-five, Hugh Blair came to Newbridge, having bought a farm + near the village. He was a stranger, from Lower Carmody, and so was not + imbued with any preconceptions of Meredith superiority. In his eyes I was + just a girl like others—a girl to be wooed and won by any man of + clean life and honest heart. I met him at a little Sunday-School picnic + over at Avonlea, which I attended because of my class. I thought him very + handsome and manly. He talked to me a great deal, and at last he drove me + home. The next Sunday evening he walked up from church with me. + </p> + <p> + Hester was away, or, of course, this would never have happened. She had + gone for a month's visit to distant friends. + </p> + <p> + In that month I lived a lifetime. Hugh Blair courted me as the other girls + in Newbridge were courted. He took me out driving and came to see me in + the evenings, which we spent for the most part in the garden. I did not + like the stately gloom and formality of our old Meredith parlor, and Hugh + never seemed to feel at ease there. His broad shoulders and hearty + laughter were oddly out of place among our faded, old-maidish furnishings. + </p> + <p> + Mary Sloane was very much pleased at Hugh's visit. She had always resented + the fact that I had never had a "beau," seeming to think it reflected some + slight or disparagement upon me. She did all she could to encourage him. + </p> + <p> + But when Hester returned and found out about Hugh she was very angry—and + grieved, which hurt me far more. She told me that I had forgotten myself + and that Hugh's visits must cease. + </p> + <p> + I had never been afraid of Hester before, but I was afraid of her then. I + yielded. Perhaps it was very weak of me, but then I was always weak. I + think that was why Hugh's strength had appealed so to me. I needed love + and protection. Hester, strong and self-sufficient, had never felt such a + need. She could not understand. Oh, how contemptuous she was. + </p> + <p> + I told Hugh timidly that Hester did not approve of our friendship and that + it must end. He took it quietly enough, and went away. I thought he did + not care much, and the thought selfishly made my own heartache worse. I + was very unhappy for a long time, but I tried not to let Hester see it, + and I don't think she did. She was not very discerning in some things. + </p> + <p> + After a time I got over it; that is, the heartache ceased to ache all the + time. But things were never quite the same again. Life always seemed + rather dreary and empty, in spite of Hester and my roses and my + Sunday-School. + </p> + <p> + I supposed that Hugh Blair would find him a wife elsewhere, but he did + not. The years went by and we never met, although I saw him often at + church. At such times Hester always watched me very closely, but there was + no need of her to do so. Hugh made no attempt to meet me, or speak with + me, and I would not have permitted it if he had. But my heart always + yearned after him. I was selfishly glad he had not married, because if he + had I could not have thought and dreamed of him—it would have been + wrong. Perhaps, as it was, it was foolish; but it seemed to me that I must + have something, if only foolish dreams, to fill my life. + </p> + <p> + At first there was only pain in the thought of him, but afterwards a + faint, misty little pleasure crept in, like a mirage from a land of lost + delight. + </p> + <p> + Ten years slipped away thus. And then Hester died. Her illness was sudden + and short; but, before she died, she asked me to promise that I would + never marry Hugh Blair. + </p> + <p> + She had not mentioned his name for years. I thought she had forgotten all + about him. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, dear sister, is there any need of such a promise?" I asked, weeping. + "Hugh Blair does not want to marry me now. He never will again." + </p> + <p> + "He has never married—he has not forgotten you," she said fiercely. + "I could not rest in my grave if I thought you would disgrace your family + by marrying beneath you. Promise me, Margaret." + </p> + <p> + I promised. I would have promised anything in my power to make her dying + pillow easier. Besides, what did it matter? I was sure that Hugh would + never think of me again. + </p> + <p> + She smiled when she heard me, and pressed my hand. + </p> + <p> + "Good little sister—that is right. You were always a good girl, + Margaret—good and obedient, though a little sentimental and foolish + in some ways. You are like our mother—she was always weak and + loving. I took after the Merediths." + </p> + <p> + She did, indeed. Even in her coffin her dark, handsome features preserved + their expression of pride and determination. Somehow, that last look of + her dead face remained in my memory, blotting out the real affection and + gentleness which her living face had almost always shown me. This + distressed me, but I could not help it. I wished to think of her as kind + and loving, but I could remember only the pride and coldness with which + she had crushed out my new-born happiness. Yet I felt no anger or + resentment towards her for what she had done. I knew she had meant it for + the best—my best. It was only that she was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + And then, a month after she had died, Hugh Blair came to me and asked me + to be his wife. He said he had always loved me, and could never love any + other woman. + </p> + <p> + All my old love for him reawakened. I wanted to say yes—to feel his + strong arms about me, and the warmth of his love enfolding and guarding + me. In my weakness I yearned for his strength. + </p> + <p> + But there was my promise to Hester—that promise give by her + deathbed. I could not break it, and I told him so. It was the hardest + thing I had ever done. + </p> + <p> + He did not go away quietly this time. He pleaded and reasoned and + reproached. Every word of his hurt me like a knife-thrust. But I could not + break my promise to the dead. If Hester had been living I would have + braved her wrath and her estrangement and gone to him. But she was dead + and I could not do it. + </p> + <p> + Finally he went away in grief and anger. That was three weeks ago—and + now I sat alone in the moonlit rose-garden and wept for him. But after a + time my tears dried and a very strange feeling came over me. I felt calm + and happy, as if some wonderful love and tenderness were very near me. + </p> + <p> + And now comes the strange part of my story—the part which will not, + I suppose, be believed. If it were not for one thing I think I should + hardly believe it myself. I should feel tempted to think I had dreamed it. + But because of that one thing I know it was real. The night was very calm + and still. Not a breath of wind stirred. The moonshine was the brightest I + had ever seen. In the middle of the garden, where the shadow of the + poplars did not fall, it was almost as bright as day. One could have read + fine print. There was still a little rose glow in the west, and over the + airy boughs of the tall poplars one or two large, bright stars were + shining. The air was sweet with a hush of dreams, and the world was so + lovely that I held my breath over its beauty. + </p> + <p> + Then, all at once, down at the far end of the garden, I saw a woman + walking. I thought at first that it must be Mary Sloane; but, as she + crossed a moonlit path, I saw it was not our old servant's stout, homely + figure. This woman was tall and erect. + </p> + <p> + Although no suspicion of the truth came to me, something about her + reminded me of Hester. Even so had Hester liked to wander about the garden + in the twilight. I had seen her thus a thousand times. + </p> + <p> + I wondered who the woman could be. Some neighbor, of course. But what a + strange way for her to come! She walked up the garden slowly in the poplar + shade. Now and then she stooped, as if to caress a flower, but she plucked + none. Half way up she out in to the moonlight and walked across the plot + of grass in the center of the garden. My heart gave a great throb and I + stood up. She was quite near to me now—and I saw that it was Hester. + </p> + <p> + I can hardly say just what my feelings were at this moment. I know that I + was not surprised. I was frightened and yet I was not frightened. + Something in me shrank back in a sickening terror; but <i>I</i>, the real + I, was not frightened. I knew that this was my sister, and that there + could be no reason why I should be frightened of her, because she loved me + still, as she had always done. Further than this I was not conscious of + any coherent thought, either of wonder or attempt at reasoning. + </p> + <p> + Hester paused when she came to within a few steps of me. In the moonlight + I saw her face quite plainly. It wore an expression I had never before + seen on it—a humble, wistful, tender look. Often in life Hester had + looked lovingly, even tenderly, upon me; but always, as it were, through a + mask of pride and sternness. This was gone now, and I felt nearer to her + than ever before. I knew suddenly that she understood me. And then the + half-conscious awe and terror some part of me had felt vanished, and I + only realized that Hester was here, and that there was no terrible gulf of + change between us. + </p> + <p> + Hester beckoned to me and said, + </p> + <p> + "Come." + </p> + <p> + I stood up and followed her out of the garden. We walked side by side down + our lane, under the willows and out to the road, which lay long and still + in that bright, calm moonshine. I felt as if I were in a dream, moving at + the bidding of a will not my own, which I could not have disputed even if + I had wished to do so. But I did not wish it; I had only the feeling of a + strange, boundless content. + </p> + <p> + We went down the road between the growths of young fir that bordered it. I + smelled their balsam as we passed, and noticed how clearly and darkly + their pointed tops came out against the sky. I heard the tread of my own + feet on little twigs and plants in our way, and the trail of my dress over + the grass; but Hester moved noiselessly. + </p> + <p> + Then we went through the Avenue—that stretch of road under the apple + trees that Anne Shirley, over at Avonlea, calls "The White Way of + Delight." It was almost dark here; and yet I could see Hester's face just + as plainly as if the moon were shining on it; and whenever I looked at her + she was always looking at me with that strangely gentle smile on her lips. + </p> + <p> + Just as we passed out of the Avenue, James Trent overtook us, driving. It + seems to me that our feelings at a given moment are seldom what we would + expect them to be. I simply felt annoyed that James Trent, the most + notorious gossip in Newbridge, should have seen me walking with Hester. In + a flash I anticipated all the annoyance of it; he would talk of the matter + far and wide. + </p> + <p> + But James Trent merely nodded and called out, + </p> + <p> + "Howdy, Miss Margaret. Taking a moonlight stroll by yourself? Lovely + night, ain't it?" + </p> + <p> + Just then his horse suddenly swerved, as if startled, and broke into a + gallop. They whirled around the curve of the road in an instant. I felt + relieved, but puzzled. JAMES TRENT HAD NOT SEEN HESTER. + </p> + <p> + Down over the hill was Hugh Blair's place. When we came to it, Hester + turned in at the gate. Then, for the first time, I understood why she had + come back, and a blinding flash of joy broke over my soul. I stopped and + looked at her. Her deep eyes gazed into mine, but she did not speak. + </p> + <p> + We went on. Hugh's house lay before us in the moonlight, grown over by a + tangle of vines. His garden was on our right, a quaint spot, full of + old-fashioned flowers growing in a sort of disorderly sweetness. I trod on + a bed of mint, and the spice of it floated up to me like the incense of + some strange, sacred, solemn ceremonial. I felt unspeakably happy and + blessed. + </p> + <p> + When we came to the door Hester said, + </p> + <p> + "Knock, Margaret." + </p> + <p> + I rapped gently. In a moment, Hugh opened it. Then that happened by which, + in after days, I was to know that this strange thing was no dream or fancy + of mine. Hugh looked not at me, but past me. + </p> + <p> + "Hester!" he exclaimed, with human fear and horror in his voice. + </p> + <p> + He leaned against the door-post, the big, strong fellow, trembling from + head to foot. + </p> + <p> + "I have learned," said Hester, "that nothing matters in all God's + universe, except love. There is no pride where I have been, and no false + ideals." + </p> + <p> + Hugh and I looked into each other's eyes, wondering, and then we knew that + we were alone. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE LITTLE BROWN BOOK OF MISS EMILY + </h2> + <p> + The first summer Mr. Irving and Miss Lavendar—Diana and I could + never call her anything else, even after she was married—were at + Echo Lodge after their marriage, both Diana and I spent a great deal of + time with them. We became acquainted with many of the Grafton people whom + we had not known before, and among others, the family of Mr. Mack Leith. + We often went up to the Leiths in the evening to play croquet. Millie and + Margaret Leith were very nice girls, and the boys were nice, too. Indeed, + we liked every one in the family, except poor old Miss Emily Leith. We + tried hard enough to like her, because she seemed to like Diana and me + very much, and always wanted to sit with us and talk to us, when we would + much rather have been somewhere else. We often felt a good deal of + impatience at these times, but I am very glad to think now that we never + showed it. + </p> + <p> + In a way, we felt sorry for Miss Emily. She was Mr. Leith's old-maid + sister and she was not of much importance in the household. But, though we + felt sorry for her, we couldn't like her. She really was fussy and + meddlesome; she liked to poke a finger into every one's pie, and she was + not at all tactful. Then, too, she had a sarcastic tongue, and seemed to + feel bitter towards all the young folks and their love affairs. Diana and + I thought this was because she had never had a lover of her own. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, it seemed impossible to think of lovers in connection with Miss + Emily. She was short and stout and pudgy, with a face so round and fat and + red that it seemed quite featureless; and her hair was scanty and gray. + She walked with a waddle, just like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and she was always + rather short of breath. It was hard to believe Miss Emily had ever been + young; yet old Mr. Murray, who lived next door to the Leiths, not only + expected us to believe it, but assured us that she had been very pretty. + </p> + <p> + "THAT, at least, is impossible," said Diana to me. + </p> + <p> + And then, one day, Miss Emily died. I'm afraid no one was very sorry. It + seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the world and leave not one + person behind to be sorry because you have gone. Miss Emily was dead and + buried before Diana and I heard of it at all. The first I knew of it was + when I came home from Orchard Slope one day and found a queer, shabby + little black horsehair trunk, all studded with brass nails, on the floor + of my room at Green Gables. Marilla told me that Jack Leith had brought it + over, and said that it had belonged to Miss Emily and that, when she was + dying, she asked them to send it to me. + </p> + <p> + "But what is in it? And what am I to do with it?" I asked in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + "There was nothing said about what you were to do with it. Jack said they + didn't know what was in it, and hadn't looked into it, seeing that it was + your property. It seems a rather queer proceeding—but you're always + getting mixed up in queer proceedings, Anne. As for what is in it, the + easiest way to find out, I reckon, is to open it and see. The key is tied + to it. Jack said Miss Emily said she wanted you to have it because she + loved you and saw her lost youth in you. I guess she was a bit delirious + at the last and wandered a good deal. She said she wanted you 'to + understand her.'" + </p> + <p> + I ran over to Orchard Slope and asked Diana to come over and examine the + trunk with me. I hadn't received any instructions about keeping its + contents secret and I knew Miss Emily wouldn't mind Diana knowing about + them, whatever they were. + </p> + <p> + It was a cool, gray afternoon and we got back to Green Gables just as the + rain was beginning to fall. When we went up to my room the wind was rising + and whistling through the boughs of the big old Snow Queen outside of my + window. Diana was excited, and, I really believe, a little bit frightened. + </p> + <p> + We opened the old trunk. It was very small, and there was nothing in it + but a big cardboard box. The box was tied up and the knots sealed with + wax. We lifted it out and untied it. I touched Diana's fingers as we did + it, and both of us exclaimed at once, "How cold your hand is!" + </p> + <p> + In the box was a quaint, pretty, old-fashioned gown, not at all faded, + made of blue muslin, with a little darker blue flower in it. Under it we + found a sash, a yellowed feather fan, and an envelope full of withered + flowers. At the bottom of the box was a little brown book. + </p> + <p> + It was small and thin, like a girl's exercise book, with leaves that had + once been blue and pink, but were now quite faded, and stained in places. + On the fly leaf was written, in a very delicate hand, "Emily Margaret + Leith," and the same writing covered the first few pages of the book. The + rest were not written on at all. We sat there on the floor, Diana and I, + and read the little book together, while the rain thudded against the + window panes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June 19, 18— + + I came to-day to spend a while with Aunt Margaret in + Charlottetown. It is so pretty here, where she lives—and + ever so much nicer than on the farm at home. I have no cows + to milk here or pigs to feed. Aunt Margaret has given me + such a lovely blue muslin dress, and I am to have it made to + wear at a garden party out at Brighton next week. I never + had a muslin dress before—nothing but ugly prints and dark + woolens. I wish we were rich, like Aunt Margaret. Aunt + Margaret laughed when I said this, and declared she would + give all her wealth for my youth and beauty and + light-heartedness. I am only eighteen and I know I am very + merry but I wonder if I am really pretty. It seems to me + that I am when I look in Aunt Margaret's beautiful mirrors. + They make me look very different from the old cracked one in + my room at home which always twisted my face and turned me + green. But Aunt Margaret spoiled her compliment by telling + me I look exactly as she did at my age. If I thought I'd + ever look as Aunt Margaret does now, I don't know what I'd + do. She is so fat and red. + + June 29. + + Last week I went to the garden party and I met a young man + called Paul Osborne. He is a young artist from Montreal who + is boarding over at Heppoch. He is the handsomest man I have + ever seen—very tall and slender, with dreamy, dark eyes and + a pale, clever face. I have not been able to keep from + thinking about him ever since, and to-day he came over here + and asked if he could paint me. I felt very much flattered + and so pleased when Aunt Margaret gave him permission. He + says he wants to paint me as "Spring," standing under the + poplars where a fine rain of sunshine falls through. I am to + wear my blue muslin gown and a wreath of flowers on my hair. + He says I have such beautiful hair. He has never seen any of + such a real pale gold. Somehow it seems even prettier than + ever to me since he praised it. + + I had a letter from home to-day. Ma says the blue hen stole + her nest and came off with fourteen chickens, and that pa has + sold the little spotted calf. Somehow those things don't + interest me like they once did. + + July 9. + + The picture is coming on very well, Mr. Osborne says. I know + he is making me look far too pretty in it, although he + persists in saying he can't do me justice. He is going to + send it to some great exhibition when finished, but he says + he will make a little water-color copy for me. + + He comes every day to paint and we talk a great deal and he + reads me lovely things out of his books. I don't understand + them all, but I try to, and he explains them so nicely and is + so patient with my stupidity. And he says any one with my + eyes and hair and coloring does not need to be clever. He + says I have the sweetest, merriest laugh in the world. But I + will not write down all the compliments he has paid me. I + dare say he does not mean them at all. + + In the evening we stroll among the spruces or sit on the + bench under the acacia tree. Sometimes we don't talk at all, + but I never find the time long. Indeed, the minutes just + seem to fly—and then the moon will come up, round and red, + over the harbor and Mr. Osborne will sigh and say he supposes + it is time for him to go. + + July 24. + + I am so happy. I am frightened at my happiness. Oh, I + didn't think life could ever be so beautiful for me as it is! + + Paul loves me! He told me so to-night as we walked by the + harbor and watched the sunset, and he asked me to be his + wife. I have cared for him ever since I met him, but I am + afraid I am not clever and well-educated enough for a wife + for Paul. Because, of course, I'm only an ignorant little + country girl and have lived all my life on a farm. Why, my + hands are quite rough yet from the work I've done. But Paul + just laughed when I said so, and took my hands and kissed + them. Then he looked into my eyes and laughed again, because + I couldn't hide from him how much I loved him. + + We are to be married next spring and Paul says he will take + me to Europe. That will be very nice, but nothing matters so + long as I am with him. + + Paul's people are very wealthy and his mother and sisters are + very fashionable. I am frightened of them, but I did not + tell Paul so because I think it would hurt him and oh, I + wouldn't do that for the world. + + There is nothing I wouldn't suffer if it would do him any + good. I never thought any one could feel so. I used to + think if I loved anybody I would want him to do everything + for me and wait on me as if I were a princess. But that is + not the way at all. Love makes you very humble and you want + to do everything yourself for the one you love. + + August 10. + + Paul went home to-day. Oh, it is so terrible! I don't know + how I can bear to live even for a little while without him. + But this is silly of me, because I know he has to go and he + will write often and come to me often. But, still, it is so + lonesome. I didn't cry when he left me because I wanted him + to remember me smiling in the way he liked best, but I have + been crying ever since and I can't stop, no matter how hard I + try. We have had such a beautiful fortnight. Every day + seemed dearer and happier than the last, and now it is ended + and I feel as if it could never be the same again. Oh, I am + very foolish—but I love him so dearly and if I were to lose + his love I know I would die. + + August 17. + + I think my heart is dead. But no, it can't be, for it aches + too much. + + Paul's mother came here to see me to-day. She was not angry + or disagreeable. I wouldn't have been so frightened of her + if she had been. As it was, I felt that I couldn't say a + word. She is very beautiful and stately and wonderful, with + a low, cold voice and proud, dark eyes. Her face is like + Paul's but without the loveableness of his. + + She talked to me for a long time and she said terrible + things—terrible, because I knew they were all true. I + seemed to see everything through her eyes. She said that + Paul was infatuated with my youth and beauty but that it + would not last and what else had I to give him? She said Paul + must marry a woman of his own class, who could do honor to + his fame and position. She said that he was very talented + and had a great career before him, but that if he married me + it would ruin his life. + + I saw it all, just as she explained it out, and I told her at + last that I would not marry Paul, and she might tell him so. + But she smiled and said I must tell him myself, because he + would not believe any one else. I could have begged her to + spare me that, but I knew it would be of no use. I do not + think she has any pity or mercy for any one. Besides, what + she said was quite true. + + When she thanked me for being so REASONABLE I told her I was + not doing it to please her, but for Paul's sake, because I + would not spoil his life, and that I would always hate her. + She smiled again and went away. + + Oh, how can I bear it? I did not know any one could suffer + like this! + + August 18. + + I have done it. I wrote to Paul to-day. I knew I must tell + him by letter, because I could never make him believe it face + to face. I was afraid I could not even do it by letter. I + suppose a clever woman easily could, but I am so stupid. + I wrote a great many letters and tore them up, because I felt + sure they wouldn't convince Paul. At last I got one that I + thought would do. I knew I must make it seem as if I were + very frivolous and heartless, or he would never believe. I + spelled some words wrong and put in some mistakes of grammar + on purpose. I told him I had just been flirting with him, + and that I had another fellow at home I liked better. I said + FELLOW because I knew it would disgust him. I said that it + was only because he was rich that I was tempted to marry him. + + I thought my heart would break while I was writing + those dreadful falsehoods. But it was for his sake, because + I must not spoil his life. His mother told me I would be a + millstone around his neck. I love Paul so much that I would + do anything rather than be that. It would be easy to die for + him, but I don't see how I can go on living. I think my + letter will convince Paul. +</pre> + <p> + I suppose it convinced Paul, because there was no further entry in the + little brown book. When we had finished it the tears were running down + both our faces. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, poor, dear Miss Emily," sobbed Diana. "I'm so sorry I ever thought + her funny and meddlesome." + </p> + <p> + "She was good and strong and brave," I said. "I could never have been as + unselfish as she was." + </p> + <p> + I thought of Whittier's lines, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The outward, wayward life we see + The hidden springs we may not know." +</pre> + <p> + At the back of the little brown book we found a faded water-color sketch + of a young girl—such a slim, pretty little thing, with big blue eyes + and lovely, long, rippling golden hair. Paul Osborne's name was written in + faded ink across the corner. + </p> + <p> + We put everything back in the box. Then we sat for a long time by my + window in silence and thought of many things, until the rainy twilight + came down and blotted out the world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. SARA'S WAY + </h2> + <p> + The warm June sunshine was coming down through the trees, white with the + virginal bloom of apple-blossoms, and through the shining panes, making a + tremulous mosaic upon Mrs. Eben Andrews' spotless kitchen floor. Through + the open door, a wind, fragrant from long wanderings over orchards and + clover meadows, drifted in, and, from the window, Mrs. Eben and her guest + could look down over a long, misty valley sloping to a sparkling sea. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jonas Andrews was spending the afternoon with her sister-in-law. She + was a big, sonsy woman, with full-blown peony cheeks and large, dreamy, + brown eyes. When she had been a slim, pink-and-white girl those eyes had + been very romantic. Now they were so out of keeping with the rest of her + appearance as to be ludicrous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Eben, sitting at the other end of the small tea-table that was drawn + up against the window, was a thin little woman, with a very sharp nose and + light, faded blue eyes. She looked like a woman whose opinions were always + very decided and warranted to wear. + </p> + <p> + "How does Sara like teaching at Newbridge?" asked Mrs. Jonas, helping + herself a second time to Mrs. Eben's matchless black fruit cake, and + thereby bestowing a subtle compliment which Mrs. Eben did not fail to + appreciate. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess she likes it pretty well—better than down at White + Sands, anyway," answered Mrs. Eben. "Yes, I may say it suits her. Of + course it's a long walk there and back. I think it would have been wiser + for her to keep on boarding at Morrison's, as she did all winter, but Sara + is bound to be home all she can. And I must say the walk seems to agree + with her." + </p> + <p> + "I was down to see Jonas' aunt at Newbridge last night," said Mrs. Jonas, + "and she said she'd heard that Sara had made up her mind to take Lige + Baxter at last, and that they were to be married in the fall. She asked me + if it was true. I said I didn't know, but I hoped to mercy it was. Now, is + it, Louisa?" + </p> + <p> + "Not a word of it," said Mrs. Eben sorrowfully. "Sara hasn't any more + notion of taking Lige than ever she had. I'm sure it's not MY fault. I've + talked and argued till I'm tired. I declare to you, Amelia, I am terribly + disappointed. I'd set my heart on Sara's marrying Lige—and now to + think she won't!" + </p> + <p> + "She is a very foolish girl," said Mrs. Jonas, judicially. "If Lige Baxter + isn't good enough for her, who is?" + </p> + <p> + "And he's so well off," said Mrs. Eben, "and does such a good business, + and is well spoken of by every one. And that lovely new house of his at + Newbridge, with bay windows and hardwood floors! I've dreamed and dreamed + of seeing Sara there as mistress." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe you'll see her there yet," said Mrs. Jonas, who always took a + hopeful view of everything, even of Sara's contrariness. But she felt + discouraged, too. Well, she had done her best. + </p> + <p> + If Lige Baxter's broth was spoiled it was not for lack of cooks. Every + Andrews in Avonlea had been trying for two years to bring about a match + between him and Sara, and Mrs. Jonas had borne her part valiantly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Eben's despondent reply was cut short by the appearance of Sara + herself. The girl stood for a moment in the doorway and looked with a + faintly amused air at her aunts. She knew quite well that they had been + discussing her, for Mrs. Jonas, who carried her conscience in her face, + looked guilty, and Mrs. Eben had not been able wholly to banish her + aggrieved expression. + </p> + <p> + Sara put away her books, kissed Mrs. Jonas' rosy cheek, and sat down at + the table. Mrs. Eben brought her some fresh tea, some hot rolls, and a + little jelly-pot of the apricot preserves Sara liked, and she cut some + more fruit cake for her in moist plummy slices. She might be out of + patience with Sara's "contrariness," but she spoiled and petted her for + all that, for the girl was the very core of her childless heart. + </p> + <p> + Sara Andrews was not, strictly speaking, pretty; but there was that about + her which made people look at her twice. She was very dark, with a rich, + dusky sort of darkness, her deep eyes were velvety brown, and her lips and + cheeks were crimson. + </p> + <p> + She ate her rolls and preserves with a healthy appetite, sharpened by her + long walk from Newbridge, and told amusing little stories of her day's + work that made the two older women shake with laughter, and exchange shy + glances of pride over her cleverness. + </p> + <p> + When tea was over she poured the remaining contents of the cream jug into + a saucer. + </p> + <p> + "I must feed my pussy," she said as she left the room. + </p> + <p> + "That girl beats me," said Mrs. Eben with a sigh of perplexity. "You know + that black cat we've had for two years? Eben and I have always made a lot + of him, but Sara seemed to have a dislike to him. Never a peaceful nap + under the stove could he have when Sara was home—out he must go. + Well, a little spell ago he got his leg broke accidentally and we thought + he'd have to be killed. But Sara wouldn't hear of it. She got splints and + set his leg just as knacky, and bandaged it up, and she has tended him + like a sick baby ever since. He's just about well now, and he lives in + clover, that cat does. It's just her way. There's them sick chickens she's + been doctoring for a week, giving them pills and things! + </p> + <p> + "And she thinks more of that wretched-looking calf that got poisoned with + paris green than of all the other stock on the place." + </p> + <p> + As the summer wore away, Mrs. Eben tried to reconcile herself to the + destruction of her air castles. But she scolded Sara considerably. + </p> + <p> + "Sara, why don't you like Lige? I'm sure he is a model young man." + </p> + <p> + "I don't like model young men," answered Sara impatiently. "And I really + think I hate Lige Baxter. He has always been held up to me as such a + paragon. I'm tired of hearing about all his perfections. I know them all + off by heart. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't steal, he + doesn't tell fibs, he never loses his temper, he doesn't swear, and he + goes to church regularly. Such a faultless creature as that would + certainly get on my nerves. No, no, you'll have to pick out another + mistress for your new house at the Bridge, Aunt Louisa." + </p> + <p> + When the apple trees, that had been pink and white in June, were russet + and bronze in October, Mrs. Eben had a quilting. The quilt was of the + "Rising Star" pattern, which was considered in Avonlea to be very + handsome. Mrs. Eben had intended it for part of Sara's "setting out," and, + while she sewed the red-and-white diamonds together, she had regaled her + fancy by imagining she saw it spread out on the spare-room bed of the + house at Newbridge, with herself laying her bonnet and shawl on it when + she went to see Sara. Those bright visions had faded with the apple + blossoms, and Mrs. Eben hardly had the heart to finish the quilt at all. + </p> + <p> + The quilting came off on Saturday afternoon, when Sara could be home from + school. All Mrs. Eben's particular friends were ranged around the quilt, + and tongues and fingers flew. Sara flitted about, helping her aunt with + the supper preparations. She was in the room, getting the custard dishes + out of the cupboard, when Mrs. George Pye arrived. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. George had a genius for being late. She was later than usual to-day, + and she looked excited. Every woman around the "Rising Star" felt that + Mrs. George had some news worth listening to, and there was an expectant + silence while she pulled out her chair and settled herself at the quilt. + </p> + <p> + She was a tall, thin woman with a long pale face and liquid green eyes. As + she looked around the circle she had the air of a cat daintily licking its + chops over some titbit. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose," she said, "that you have heard the news?" + </p> + <p> + She knew perfectly well that they had not. Every other woman at the frame + stopped quilting. Mrs. Eben came to the door with a pan of puffy, + smoking-hot soda biscuits in her hand. Sara stopped counting the custard + dishes, and turned her ripely-colored face over her shoulder. Even the + black cat, at her feet, ceased preening his fur. Mrs. George felt that the + undivided attention of her audience was hers. + </p> + <p> + "Baxter Brothers have failed," she said, her green eyes shooting out + flashes of light. "Failed DISGRACEFULLY!" + </p> + <p> + She paused for a moment; but, since her hearers were as yet speechless + from surprise, she went on. + </p> + <p> + "George came home from Newbridge, just before I left, with the news. You + could have knocked me down with a feather. I should have thought that firm + was as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar! But they're ruined—absolutely + ruined. Louisa, dear, can you find me a good needle?" + </p> + <p> + "Louisa, dear," had set her biscuits down with a sharp thud, reckless of + results. A sharp, metallic tinkle sounded at the closet where Sara had + struck the edge of her tray against a shelf. The sound seemed to loosen + the paralyzed tongues, and everybody began talking and exclaiming at once. + Clear and shrill above the confusion rose Mrs. George Pye's voice. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, indeed, you may well say so. It IS disgraceful. And to think how + everybody trusted them! George will lose considerable by the crash, and so + will a good many folks. Everything will have to go—Peter Baxter's + farm and Lige's grand new house. Mrs. Peter won't carry her head so high + after this, I'll be bound. George saw Lige at the Bridge, and he said he + looked dreadful cut up and ashamed." + </p> + <p> + "Who, or what's to blame for the failure?" asked Mrs. Rachel Lynde + sharply. She did not like Mrs. George Pye. + </p> + <p> + "There are a dozen different stories on the go," was the reply. "As far as + George could make out, Peter Baxter has been speculating with other folks' + money, and this is the result. Everybody always suspected that Peter was + crooked; but you'd have thought that Lige would have kept him straight. HE + had always such a reputation for saintliness." + </p> + <p> + "I don't suppose Lige knew anything about it," said Mrs. Rachel + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, he'd ought to, then. If he isn't a knave he's a fool," said Mrs. + Harmon Andrews, who had formerly been among his warmest partisans. "He + should have kept watch on Peter and found out how the business was being + run. Well, Sara, you were the level-headest of us all—I'll admit + that now. A nice mess it would be if you were married or engaged to Lige, + and him left without a cent—even if he can clear his character!" + </p> + <p> + "There is a good deal of talk about Peter, and swindling, and a lawsuit," + said Mrs. George Pye, quilting industriously. "Most of the Newbridge folks + think it's all Peter's fault, and that Lige isn't to blame. But you can't + tell. I dare say Lige is as deep in the mire as Peter. He was always a + little too good to be wholesome, <i>I</i> thought." + </p> + <p> + There was a clink of glass at the cupboard, as Sara set the tray down. She + came forward and stood behind Mrs. Rachel Lynde's chair, resting her + shapely hands on that lady's broad shoulders. Her face was very pale, but + her flashing eyes sought and faced defiantly Mrs. George Pye's cat-like + orbs. Her voice quivered with passion and contempt. + </p> + <p> + "You'll all have a fling at Lige Baxter, now that he's down. You couldn't + say enough in his praise, once. I'll not stand by and hear it hinted that + Lige Baxter is a swindler. You all know perfectly well that Lige is as + honest as the day, if he IS so unfortunate as to have an unprincipled + brother. You, Mrs. Pye, know it better than any one, yet you come here and + run him down the minute he's in trouble. If there's another word said here + against Lige Baxter I'll leave the room and the house till you're gone, + every one of you." + </p> + <p> + She flashed a glance around the quilt that cowed the gossips. Even Mrs. + George Pye's eyes flickered and waned and quailed. Nothing more was said + until Sara had picked up her glasses and marched from the room. Even then + they dared not speak above a whisper. Mrs. Pye, alone, smarting from the + snub, ventured to ejaculate, "Pity save us!" as Sara slammed the door. + </p> + <p> + For the next fortnight gossip and rumor held high carnival in Avonlea and + Newbridge, and Mrs. Eben grew to dread the sight of a visitor. + </p> + <p> + "They're bound to talk about the Baxter failure and criticize Lige," she + deplored to Mrs. Jonas. "And it riles Sara up so terrible. She used to + declare that she hated Lige, and now she won't listen to a word against + him. Not that I say any, myself. I'm sorry for him, and I believe he's + done his best. But I can't stop other people from talking." + </p> + <p> + One evening Harmon Andrews came in with a fresh budget of news. + </p> + <p> + "The Baxter business is pretty near wound up at last," he said, as he + lighted his pipe. "Peter has got his lawsuits settled and has hushed up + the talk about swindling, somehow. Trust him for slipping out of a scrape + clean and clever. He don't seem to worry any, but Lige looks like a + walking skeleton. Some folks pity him, but I say he should have kept the + run of things better and not have trusted everything to Peter. I hear he's + going out West in the Spring, to take up land in Alberta and try his hand + at farming. Best thing he can do, I guess. Folks hereabouts have had + enough of the Baxter breed. Newbridge will be well rid of them." + </p> + <p> + Sara, who had been sitting in the dark corner by the stove, suddenly stood + up, letting the black cat slip from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Eben + glanced at her apprehensively, for she was afraid the girl was going to + break out in a tirade against the complacent Harmon. + </p> + <p> + But Sara only walked fiercely out of the kitchen, with a sound as if she + were struggling for breath. In the hall she snatched a scarf from the + wall, flung open the front door, and rushed down the lane in the chill, + pure air of the autumn twilight. Her heart was throbbing with the pity she + always felt for bruised and baited creatures. + </p> + <p> + On and on she went heedlessly, intent only on walking away her pain, over + gray, brooding fields and winding slopes, and along the skirts of ruinous, + dusky pine woods, curtained with fine spun purple gloom. Her dress brushed + against the brittle grasses and sere ferns, and the moist night wind, + loosed from wild places far away, blew her hair about her face. + </p> + <p> + At last she came to a little rustic gate, leading into a shadowy + wood-lane. The gate was bound with willow withes, and, as Sara fumbled + vainly at them with her chilled hands, a man's firm step came up behind + her, and Lige Baxter's hand closed over her's. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Lige!" she said, with something like a sob. + </p> + <p> + He opened the gate and drew her through. She left her hand in his, as they + walked through the lane where lissome boughs of young saplings flicked + against their heads, and the air was wildly sweet with the woodsy odors. + </p> + <p> + "It's a long while since I've seen you, Lige," Sara said at last. + </p> + <p> + Lige looked wistfully down at her through the gloom. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it seems very long to me, Sara. But I didn't think you'd care to see + me, after what you said last spring. And you know things have been going + against me. People have said hard things. I've been unfortunate, Sara, and + may be too easy-going, but I've been honest. Don't believe folks if they + tell you I wasn't." + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, I never did—not for a minute!" fired Sara. + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad of that. I'm going away, later on. I felt bad enough when you + refused to marry me, Sara; but it's well that you didn't. I'm man enough + to be thankful my troubles don't fall on you." + </p> + <p> + Sara stopped and turned to him. Beyond them the lane opened into a field + and a clear lake of crocus sky cast a dim light into the shadow where they + stood. Above it was a new moon, like a gleaming silver scimitar. Sara saw + it was over her left shoulder, and she saw Lige's face above her, tender + and troubled. + </p> + <p> + "Lige," she said softly, "do you love me still?" + </p> + <p> + "You know I do," said Lige sadly. + </p> + <p> + That was all Sara wanted. With a quick movement she nestled into his arms, + and laid her warm, tear-wet cheek against his cold one. + </p> + <p> + When the amazing rumor that Sara was going to marry Lige Baxter, and go + out West with him, circulated through the Andrews clan, hands were lifted + and heads were shaken. Mrs. Jonas puffed and panted up the hill to learn + if it were true. She found Mrs. Eben stitching for dear life on an "Irish + Chain" quilt, while Sara was sewing the diamonds on another "Rising Star" + with a martyr-like expression on her face. Sara hated patchwork above + everything else, but Mrs. Eben was mistress up to a certain point. + </p> + <p> + "You'll have to make that quilt, Sara Andrews. If you're going to live out + on those prairies, you'll need piles of quilts, and you shall have them if + I sew my fingers to the bone. But you'll have to help make them." + </p> + <p> + And Sara had to. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Jonas came, Mrs. Eben sent Sara off to the post-office to get + her out of the way. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose it's true, this time?" said Mrs. Jonas. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Eben briskly. "Sara is set on it. There is no use + trying to move her—you know that—so I've just concluded to + make the best of it. I'm no turn-coat. Lige Baxter is Lige Baxter still, + neither more nor less. I've always said he's a fine young man, and I say + so still. After all, he and Sara won't be any poorer than Eben and I were + when we started out." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jonas heaved a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + "I'm real glad you take that view of it, Louisa. I'm not displeased, + either, although Mrs. Harmon would take my head off if she heard me say + so. I always liked Lige. But I must say I'm amazed, too, after the way + Sara used to rail at him." + </p> + <p> + "Well, we might have expected it," said Mrs. Eben sagely. "It was always + Sara's way. When any creature got sick or unfortunate she seemed to take + it right into her heart. So you may say Lige Baxter's failure was a + success after all." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. THE SON OF HIS MOTHER + </h2> + <p> + Thyra Carewe was waiting for Chester to come home. She sat by the west + window of the kitchen, looking out into the gathering of the shadows with + the expectant immovability that characterized her. She never twitched or + fidgeted. Into whatever she did she put the whole force of her nature. If + it was sitting still, she sat still. + </p> + <p> + "A stone image would be twitchedly beside Thyra," said Mrs. Cynthia White, + her neighbor across the lane. "It gets on my nerves, the way she sits at + that window sometimes, with no more motion than a statue and her great + eyes burning down the lane. When I read the commandment, 'Thou shalt have + no other gods before me,' I declare I always think of Thyra. She worships + that son of hers far ahead of her Creator. She'll be punished for it yet." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. White was watching Thyra now, knitting furiously, as she watched, in + order to lose no time. Thyra's hands were folded idly in her lap. She had + not moved a muscle since she sat down. Mrs. White complained it gave her + the weeps. + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't seem natural to see a woman sit so still," she said. + "Sometimes the thought comes to me, 'what if she's had a stroke, like her + old Uncle Horatio, and is sitting there stone dead!'" + </p> + <p> + The evening was cold and autumnal. There was a fiery red spot out at sea, + where the sun had set, and, above it, over a chill, clear, saffron sky, + were reefs of purple-black clouds. The river, below the Carewe homestead, + was livid. Beyond it, the sea was dark and brooding. It was an evening to + make most people shiver and forebode an early winter; but Thyra loved it, + as she loved all stern, harshly beautiful things. She would not light a + lamp because it would blot out the savage grandeur of sea and sky. It was + better to wait in the darkness until Chester came home. + </p> + <p> + He was late to-night. She thought he had been detained over-time at the + harbor, but she was not anxious. He would come straight home to her as + soon as his business was completed—of that she felt sure. Her + thoughts went out along the bleak harbor road to meet him. She could see + him plainly, coming with his free stride through the sandy hollows and + over the windy hills, in the harsh, cold light of that forbidding sunset, + strong and handsome in his comely youth, with her own deeply cleft chin + and his father's dark gray, straightforward eyes. No other woman in + Avonlea had a son like hers—her only one. In his brief absences she + yearned after him with a maternal passion that had in it something of + physical pain, so intense was it. She thought of Cynthia White, knitting + across the road, with contemptuous pity. That woman had no son—nothing + but pale-faced girls. Thyra had never wanted a daughter, but she pitied + and despised all sonless women. + </p> + <p> + Chester's dog whined suddenly and piercingly on the doorstep outside. He + was tired of the cold stone and wanted his warm corner behind the stove. + Thyra smiled grimly when she heard him. She had no intention of letting + him in. She said she had always disliked dogs, but the truth, although she + would not glance at it, was that she hated the animal because Chester + loved him. She could not share his love with even a dumb brute. She loved + no living creature in the world but her son, and fiercely demanded a like + concentrated affection from him. Hence it pleased her to hear his dog + whine. + </p> + <p> + It was now quite dark; the stars had begun to shine out over the shorn + harvest fields, and Chester had not come. Across the lane Cynthia White + had pulled down her blind, in despair of out-watching Thyra, and had + lighted a lamp. Lively shadows of little girl-shapes passed and repassed + on the pale oblong of light. They made Thyra conscious of her exceeding + loneliness. She had just decided that she would walk down the lane and + wait for Chester on the bridge, when a thunderous knock came at the east + kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + She recognized August Vorst's knock and lighted a lamp in no great haste, + for she did not like him. He was a gossip and Thyra hated gossip, in man + or woman. But August was privileged. + </p> + <p> + She carried the lamp in her hand, when she went to the door, and its + upward-striking light gave her face a ghastly appearance. She did not mean + to ask August in, but he pushed past her cheerfully, not waiting to be + invited. He was a midget of a man, lame of foot and hunched of back, with + a white, boyish face, despite his middle age and deep-set, malicious black + eyes. + </p> + <p> + He pulled a crumpled newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Thyra. He + was the unofficial mail-carrier of Avonlea. Most of the people gave him a + trifle for bringing their letters and papers from the office. He earned + small sums in various other ways, and so contrived to keep the life in his + stunted body. There was always venom in August's gossip. It was said that + he made more mischief in Avonlea in a day than was made otherwise in a + year, but people tolerated him by reason of his infirmity. To be sure, it + was the tolerance they gave to inferior creatures, and August felt this. + Perhaps it accounted for a good deal of his malignity. He hated most those + who were kindest to him, and, of these, Thyra Carewe above all. He hated + Chester, too, as he hated strong, shapely creatures. His time had come at + last to wound them both, and his exultation shone through his crooked body + and pinched features like an illuminating lamp. Thyra perceived it and + vaguely felt something antagonistic in it. She pointed to the + rocking-chair, as she might have pointed out a mat to a dog. + </p> + <p> + August crawled into it and smiled. He was going to make her writhe + presently, this woman who looked down upon him as some venomous creeping + thing she disdained to crush with her foot. + </p> + <p> + "Did you see anything of Chester on the road?" asked Thyra, giving August + the very opening he desired. "He went to the harbor after tea to see Joe + Raymond about the loan of his boat, but it's the time he should be back. I + can't think what keeps the boy." + </p> + <p> + "Just what keeps most men—leaving out creatures like me—at + some time or other in their lives. A girl—a pretty girl, Thyra. It + pleases me to look at her. Even a hunchback can use his eyes, eh? Oh, + she's a rare one!" + </p> + <p> + "What is the man talking about?" said Thyra wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "Damaris Garland, to be sure. Chester's down at Tom Blair's now, talking + to her—and looking more than his tongue says, too, of that you may + be sure. Well, well, we were all young once, Thyra—all young once, + even crooked little August Vorst. Eh, now?" + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" said Thyra. + </p> + <p> + She had sat down in a chair before him, with her hands folded in her lap. + Her face, always pale, had not changed; but her lips were curiously white. + August Vorst saw this and it pleased him. Also, her eyes were worth + looking at, if you liked to hurt people—and that was the only + pleasure August took in life. He would drink this delightful cup of + revenge for her long years of disdainful kindness—ah, he would drink + it slowly to prolong its sweetness. Sip by sip—he rubbed his long, + thin, white hands together—sip by sip, tasting each mouthful. + </p> + <p> + "Eh, now? You know well enough, Thyra." + </p> + <p> + "I know nothing of what you would be at, August Vorst. You speak of my son + and Damaris—was that the name?—Damaris Garland as if they were + something to each other. I ask you what you mean by it?" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut, Thyra, nothing very terrible. There's no need to look like that + about it. Young men will be young men to the end of time, and there's no + harm in Chester's liking to look at a lass, eh, now? Or in talking to her + either? The little baggage, with the red lips of her! She and Chester will + make a pretty pair. He's not so ill-looking for a man, Thyra." + </p> + <p> + "I am not a very patient woman, August," said Thyra coldly. "I have asked + you what you mean, and I want a straight answer. Is Chester down at Tom + Blair's while I have been sitting here, alone, waiting for him?" + </p> + <p> + August nodded. He saw that it would not be wise to trifle longer with + Thyra. + </p> + <p> + "That he is. I was there before I came here. He and Damaris were sitting + in a corner by themselves, and very well-satisfied they seemed to be with + each other. Tut, tut, Thyra, don't take the news so. I thought you knew. + It's no secret that Chester has been going after Damaris ever since she + came here. But what then? You can't tie him to your apron strings forever, + woman. He'll be finding a mate for himself, as he should. Seeing that he's + straight and well-shaped, no doubt Damaris will look with favor on him. + Old Martha Blair declares the girl loves him better than her eyes." + </p> + <p> + Thyra made a sound like a strangled moan in the middle of August's speech. + She heard the rest of it immovably. When it came to an end she stood and + looked down upon him in a way that silenced him. + </p> + <p> + "You've told the news you came to tell, and gloated over it, and now get + you gone," she said slowly. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Thyra," he began, but she interrupted him threateningly. + </p> + <p> + "Get you gone, I say! And you need not bring my mail here any longer. I + want no more of your misshapen body and lying tongue!" + </p> + <p> + August went, but at the door he turned for a parting stab. + </p> + <p> + "My tongue is not a lying one, Mrs. Carewe. I've told you the truth, as + all Avonlea knows it. Chester is mad about Damaris Garland. It's no wonder + I thought you knew what all the settlement can see. But you're such a + jealous, odd body, I suppose the boy hid it from you for fear you'd go + into a tantrum. As for me, I'll not forget that you've turned me from your + door because I chanced to bring you news you'd no fancy for." + </p> + <p> + Thyra did not answer him. When the door closed behind him she locked it + and blew out the light. Then she threw herself face downward on the sofa + and burst into wild tears. Her very soul ached. She wept as tempestuously + and unreasoningly as youth weeps, although she was not young. It seemed as + if she was afraid to stop weeping lest she should go mad thinking. But, + after a time, tears failed her, and she began bitterly to go over, word by + word, what August Vorst had said. + </p> + <p> + That her son should ever cast eyes of love on any girl was something Thyra + had never thought about. She would not believe it possible that he should + love any one but herself, who loved him so much. And now the possibility + invaded her mind as subtly and coldly and remorselessly as a sea-fog + stealing landward. + </p> + <p> + Chester had been born to her at an age when most women are letting their + children slip from them into the world, with some natural tears and + heartaches, but content to let them go, after enjoying their sweetest + years. Thyra's late-come motherhood was all the more intense and + passionate because of its very lateness. She had been very ill when her + son was born, and had lain helpless for long weeks, during which other + women had tended her baby for her. She had never been able to forgive them + for this. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had died before Chester was a year old. She had laid their son + in his dying arms and received him back again with a last benediction. To + Thyra that moment had something of a sacrament in it. It was as if the + child had been doubly given to her, with a right to him solely that + nothing could take away or transcend. + </p> + <p> + Marrying! She had never thought of it in connection with him. He did not + come of a marrying race. His father had been sixty when he had married + her, Thyra Lincoln, likewise well on in life. Few of the Lincolns or + Carewes had married young, many not at all. And, to her, Chester was her + baby still. He belonged solely to her. + </p> + <p> + And now another woman had dared to look upon him with eyes of love. + Damaris Garland! Thyra now remembered seeing her. She was a new-comer in + Avonlea, having come to live with her uncle and aunt after the death of + her mother. Thyra had met her on the bridge one day a month previously. + Yes, a man might think she was pretty—a low-browed girl, with a wave + of reddish-gold hair, and crimson lips blossoming out against the strange, + milk-whiteness of her skin. Her eyes, too—Thyra recalled them—hazel + in tint, deep, and laughter-brimmed. + </p> + <p> + The girl had gone past her with a smile that brought out many dimples. + There was a certain insolent quality in her beauty, as if it flaunted + itself somewhat too defiantly in the beholder's eye. Thyra had turned and + looked after the lithe, young creature, wondering who she might be. + </p> + <p> + And to-night, while she, his mother, waited for him in darkness and + loneliness, he was down at Blair's, talking to this girl! He loved her; + and it was past doubt that she loved him. The thought was more bitter than + death to Thyra. That she should dare! Her anger was all against the girl. + She had laid a snare to get Chester and he, like a fool, was entangled in + it, thinking, man-fashion, only of her great eyes and red lips. Thyra + thought savagely of Damaris' beauty. + </p> + <p> + "She shall not have him," she said, with slow emphasis. "I will never give + him up to any other woman, and, least of all, to her. She would leave me + no place in his heart at all—me, his mother, who almost died to give + him life. He belongs to me! Let her look for the son of some other woman—some + woman who has many sons. She shall not have my only one!" + </p> + <p> + She got up, wrapped a shawl about her head, and went out into the darkly + golden evening. The clouds had cleared away, and the moon was shining. The + air was chill, with a bell-like clearness. The alders by the river rustled + eerily as she walked by them and out upon the bridge. Here she paced up + and down, peering with troubled eyes along the road beyond, or leaning + over the rail, looking at the sparkling silver ribbon of moonlight that + garlanded the waters. Late travelers passed her, and wondered at her + presence and mien. Carl White saw her, and told his wife about her when he + got home. + </p> + <p> + "Striding to and fro over the bridge like mad! At first I thought it was + old, crazy May Blair. What do you suppose she was doing down there at this + hour of the night?" + </p> + <p> + "Watching for Ches, no doubt," said Cynthia. "He ain't home yet. Likely + he's snug at Blairs'. I do wonder if Thyra suspicions that he goes after + Damaris. I've never dared to hint it to her. She'd be as liable to fly at + me, tooth and claw, as not." + </p> + <p> + "Well, she picks out a precious queer night for moon-gazing," said Carl, + who was a jolly soul and took life as he found it. "It's bitter cold—there'll + be a hard frost. It's a pity she can't get it grained into her that the + boy is grown up and must have his fling like the other lads. She'll go out + of her mind yet, like her old grandmother Lincoln, if she doesn't ease up. + I've a notion to go down to the bridge and reason a bit with her." + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, and you'll do no such thing!" cried Cynthia. "Thyra Carewe is + best left alone, if she is in a tantrum. She's like no other woman in + Avonlea—or out of it. I'd as soon meddle with a tiger as her, if + she's rampaging about Chester. I don't envy Damaris Garland her life if + she goes in there. Thyra'd sooner strangle her than not, I guess." + </p> + <p> + "You women are all terrible hard on Thyra," said Carl, good-naturedly. He + had been in love with Thyra, himself, long ago, and he still liked her in + a friendly fashion. He always stood up for her when the Avonlea women ran + her down. He felt troubled about her all night, recalling her as she paced + the bridge. He wished he had gone back, in spite of Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + When Chester came home he met his mother on the bridge. In the faint, yet + penetrating, moonlight they looked curiously alike, but Chester had the + milder face. He was very handsome. Even in the seething of her pain and + jealousy Thyra yearned over his beauty. She would have liked to put up her + hands and caress his face, but her voice was very hard when she asked him + where he had been so late. + </p> + <p> + "I called in at Tom Blair's on my way home from the harbor," he answered, + trying to walk on. But she held him back by his arm. + </p> + <p> + "Did you go there to see Damaris?" she demanded fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Chester was uncomfortable. Much as he loved his mother, he felt, and + always had felt, an awe of her and an impatient dislike of her dramatic + ways of speaking and acting. He reflected, resentfully, that no other + young man in Avonlea, who had been paying a friendly call, would be met by + his mother at midnight and held up in such tragic fashion to account for + himself. He tried vainly to loosen her hold upon his arm, but he + understood quite well that he must give her an answer. Being strictly + straight-forward by nature and upbringing, he told the truth, albeit with + more anger in his tone than he had ever shown to his mother before. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + Thyra released his arm, and struck her hands together with a sharp cry. + There was a savage note in it. She could have slain Damaris Garland at + that moment. + </p> + <p> + "Don't go on so, mother," said Chester, impatiently. "Come in out of the + cold. It isn't fit for you to be here. Who has been tampering with you? + What if I did go to see Damaris?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh—oh—oh!" cried Thyra. "I was waiting for you—alone—and + you were thinking only of her! Chester, answer me—do you love her?" + </p> + <p> + The blood rolled rapidly over the boy's face. He muttered something and + tried to pass on, but she caught him again. He forced himself to speak + gently. + </p> + <p> + "What if I do, mother? It wouldn't be such a dreadful thing, would it?" + </p> + <p> + "And me? And me?" cried Thyra. "What am I to you, then?" + </p> + <p> + "You are my mother. I wouldn't love you any the less because I cared for + another, too." + </p> + <p> + "I won't have you love another," she cried. "I want all your love—all! + What's that baby-face to you, compared to your mother? I have the best + right to you. I won't give you up." + </p> + <p> + Chester realized that there was no arguing with such a mood. He walked on, + resolved to set the matter aside until she might be more reasonable. But + Thyra would not have it so. She followed on after him, under the alders + that crowded over the lane. + </p> + <p> + "Promise me that you'll not go there again," she entreated. "Promise me + that you'll give her up." + </p> + <p> + "I can't promise such a thing," he cried angrily. + </p> + <p> + His anger hurt her worse than a blow, but she did not flinch. + </p> + <p> + "You're not engaged to her?" she cried out. + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother, be quiet. All the settlement will hear you. Why do you + object to Damaris? You don't know how sweet she is. When you know her—" + </p> + <p> + "I will never know her!" cried Thyra furiously. "And she shall not have + you! She shall not, Chester!" + </p> + <p> + He made no answer. She suddenly broke into tears and loud sobs. Touched + with remorse, he stopped and put his arms about her. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, mother, don't! I can't bear to see you cry so. But, indeed, you + are unreasonable. Didn't you ever think the time would come when I would + want to marry, like other men?" + </p> + <p> + "No, no! And I will not have it—I cannot bear it, Chester. You must + promise not to go to see her again. I won't go into the house this night + until you do. I'll stay out here in the bitter cold until you promise to + put her out of your thoughts." + </p> + <p> + "That's beyond my power, mother. Oh, mother, you're making it hard for me. + Come in, come in! You're shivering with cold now. You'll be sick." + </p> + <p> + "Not a step will I stir till you promise. Say you won't go to see that + girl any more, and there's nothing I won't do for you. But if you put her + before me, I'll not go in—I never will go in." + </p> + <p> + With most women this would have been an empty threat; but it was not so + with Thyra, and Chester knew it. He knew she would keep her word. And he + feared more than that. In this frenzy of hers what might she not do? She + came of a strange breed, as had been said disapprovingly when Luke Carewe + married her. There was a strain of insanity in the Lincolns. A Lincoln + woman had drowned herself once. Chester thought of the river, and grew + sick with fright. For a moment even his passion for Damaris weakened + before the older tie. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, calm yourself. Oh, surely there's no need of all this! Let us + wait until to-morrow, and talk it over then. I'll hear all you have to + say. Come in, dear." + </p> + <p> + Thyra loosened her arms from about him, and stepped back into a moon-lit + space. Looking at him tragically, she extended her arms and spoke slowly + and solemnly. + </p> + <p> + "Chester, choose between us. If you choose her, I shall go from you + to-night, and you will never see me again!" + </p> + <p> + "Mother!" + </p> + <p> + "Choose!" she reiterated, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + He felt her long ascendancy. Its influence was not to be shaken off in a + moment. In all his life he had never disobeyed her. Besides, with it all, + he loved her more deeply and understandingly than most sons love their + mothers. He realized that, since she would have it so, his choice was + already made—or, rather that he had no choice. + </p> + <p> + "Have your way," he said sullenly. + </p> + <p> + She ran to him and caught him to her heart. In the reaction of her feeling + she was half laughing, half crying. All was well again—all would be + well; she never doubted this, for she knew he would keep his ungracious + promise sacredly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, my son, my son," she murmured, "you'd have sent me to my death if you + had chosen otherwise. But now you are mine again!" + </p> + <p> + She did not heed that he was sullen—that he resented her unjustice + with all her own intensity. She did not heed his silence as they went into + the house together. Strangely enough, she slept well and soundly that + night. Not until many days had passed did she understand that, though + Chester might keep his promise in the letter, it was beyond his power to + keep it in the spirit. She had taken him from Damaris Garland; but she had + not won him back to herself. He could never be wholly her son again. There + was a barrier between them which not all her passionate love could break + down. Chester was gravely kind to her, for it was not in his nature to + remain sullen long, or visit his own unhappiness upon another's head; + besides, he understood her exacting affection, even in its injustice, and + it has been well-said that to understand is to forgive. But he avoided + her, and she knew it. The flame of her anger burned bitterly towards + Damaris. + </p> + <p> + "He thinks of her all the time," she moaned to herself. "He'll come to + hate me yet, I fear, because it's I who made him give her up. But I'd + rather even that than share him with another woman. Oh, my son, my son!" + </p> + <p> + She knew that Damaris was suffering, too. The girl's wan face told that + when she met her. But this pleased Thyra. It eased the ache in her bitter + heart to know that pain was gnawing at Damaris' also. + </p> + <p> + Chester was absent from home very often now. He spent much of his spare + time at the harbor, consorting with Joe Raymond and others of that ilk, + who were but sorry associates for him, Avonlea people thought. + </p> + <p> + In late November he and Joe started for a trip down the coast in the + latter's boat. Thyra protested against it, but Chester laughed at her + alarm. + </p> + <p> + Thyra saw him go with a heart sick from fear. She hated the sea, and was + afraid of it at any time; but, most of all, in this treacherous month, + with its sudden, wild gales. + </p> + <p> + Chester had been fond of the sea from boyhood. She had always tried to + stifle this fondness and break off his associations with the harbor + fishermen, who liked to lure the high-spirited boy out with them on + fishing expeditions. But her power over him was gone now. + </p> + <p> + After Chester's departure she was restless and miserable, wandering from + window to window to scan the dour, unsmiling sky. Carl White, dropping in + to pay a call, was alarmed when he heard that Chester had gone with Joe, + and had not tact enough to conceal his alarm from Thyra. + </p> + <p> + "'T isn't safe this time of year," he said. "Folks expect no better from + that reckless, harum-scarum Joe Raymond. He'll drown himself some day, + there's nothing surer. This mad freak of starting off down the shore in + November is just of a piece with his usual performances. But you shouldn't + have let Chester go, Thyra." + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't prevent him. Say what I could, he would go. He laughed when I + spoke of danger. Oh, he's changed from what he was! I know who has wrought + the change, and I hate her for it!" + </p> + <p> + Carl shrugged his fat shoulders. He knew quite well that Thyra was at the + bottom of the sudden coldness between Chester Carewe and Damaris Garland, + about which Avonlea gossip was busying itself. He pitied Thyra, too. She + had aged rapidly the past month. + </p> + <p> + "You're too hard on Chester, Thyra. He's out of leading-strings now, or + should be. You must just let me take an old friend's privilege, and tell + you that you're taking the wrong way with him. You're too jealous and + exacting, Thyra." + </p> + <p> + "You don't know anything about it. You have never had a son," said Thyra, + cruelly enough, for she knew that Carl's sonlessness was a rankling thorn + in his mind. "You don't know what it is to pour out your love on one human + being, and have it flung back in your face!" + </p> + <p> + Carl could not cope with Thyra's moods. He had never understood her, even + in his youth. Now he went home, still shrugging his shoulders, and + thinking that it was a good thing Thyra had not looked on him with favor + in the old days. Cynthia was much easier to get along with. + </p> + <p> + More than Thyra looked anxiously to sea and sky that night in Avonlea. + Damaris Garland listened to the smothered roar of the Atlantic in the + murky northeast with a prescience of coming disaster. Friendly + longshoremen shook their heads and said that Ches and Joe would better + have kept to good, dry land. + </p> + <p> + "It's sorry work joking with a November gale," said Abel Blair. He was an + old man and, in his life, had seen some sad things along the shore. + </p> + <p> + Thyra could not sleep that night. When the gale came shrieking up the + river, and struck the house, she got out of bed and dressed herself. The + wind screamed like a ravening beast at her window. All night she wandered + to and fro in the house, going from room to room, now wringing her hands + with loud outcries, now praying below her breath with white lips, now + listening in dumb misery to the fury of the storm. + </p> + <p> + The wind raged all the next day; but spent itself in the following night, + and the second morning was calm and fair. The eastern sky was a great arc + of crystal, smitten through with auroral crimsonings. Thyra, looking from + her kitchen window, saw a group of men on the bridge. They were talking to + Carl White, with looks and gestures directed towards the Carewe house. + </p> + <p> + She went out and down to them. None of these who saw her white, rigid face + that day ever forgot the sight. + </p> + <p> + "You have news for me," she said. + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, each man mutely imploring his neighbor to + speak. + </p> + <p> + "You need not fear to tell me," said Thyra calmly. "I know what you have + come to say. My son is drowned." + </p> + <p> + "We don't know THAT, Mrs. Carewe," said Abel Blair quickly. "We haven't + got the worst to tell you—there's hope yet. But Joe Raymond's boat + was found last night, stranded bottom up, on the Blue Point sand shore, + forty miles down the coast." + </p> + <p> + "Don't look like that, Thyra," said Carl White pityingly. "They may have + escaped—they may have been picked up." + </p> + <p> + Thyra looked at him with dull eyes. + </p> + <p> + "You know they have not. Not one of you has any hope. I have no son. The + sea has taken him from me—my bonny baby!" + </p> + <p> + She turned and went back to her desolate home. None dared to follow her. + Carl White went home and sent his wife over to her. + </p> + <p> + Cynthia found Thyra sitting in her accustomed chair. Her hands lay, palms + upward, on her lap. Her eyes were dry and burning. She met Cynthia's + compassionate look with a fearful smile. + </p> + <p> + "Long ago, Cynthia White," she said slowly, "you were vexed with me one + day, and you told me that God would punish me yet, because I made an idol + of my son, and set it up in His place. Do you remember? Your word was a + true one. God saw that I loved Chester too much, and He meant to take him + from me. I thwarted one way when I made him give up Damaris. But one can't + fight against the Almighty. It was decreed that I must lose him—if + not in one way, then in another. He has been taken from me utterly. I + shall not even have his grave to tend, Cynthia." + </p> + <p> + "As near to a mad woman as anything you ever saw, with her awful eyes," + Cynthia told Carl, afterwards. But she did not say so there. Although she + was a shallow, commonplace soul, she had her share of womanly sympathy, + and her own life had not been free from suffering. It taught her the right + thing to do now. She sat down by the stricken creature and put her arms + about her, while she gathered the cold hands in her own warm clasp. The + tears filled her big, blue eyes and her voice trembled as she said: + </p> + <p> + "Thyra, I'm sorry for you. I—I—lost a child once—my + little first-born. And Chester was a dear, good lad." + </p> + <p> + For a moment Thyra strained her small, tense body away from Cynthia's + embrace. Then she shuddered and cried out. The tears came, and she wept + her agony out on the other woman's breast. + </p> + <p> + As the ill news spread, other Avonlea women kept dropping in all through + the day to condole with Thyra. Many of them came in real sympathy, but + some out of mere curiosity to see how she took it. Thyra knew this, but + she did not resent it, as she would once have done. She listened very + quietly to all the halting efforts at consolation, and the little + platitudes with which they strove to cover the nakedness of bereavement. + </p> + <p> + When darkness came Cynthia said she must go home, but would send one of + her girls over for the night. + </p> + <p> + "You won't feel like staying alone," she said. + </p> + <p> + Thyra looked up steadily. + </p> + <p> + "No. But I want you to send for Damaris Garland." + </p> + <p> + "Damaris Garland!" Cynthia repeated the name as if disbelieving her own + ears. There was never any knowing what whim Thyra might take, but Cynthia + had not expected this. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Tell her I want her—tell her she must come. She must hate me + bitterly; but I am punished enough to satisfy even her hate. Tell her to + come to me for Chester's sake." + </p> + <p> + Cynthia did as she was bid, she sent her daughter, Jeanette, for Damaris. + Then she waited. No matter what duties were calling for her at home she + must see the interview between Thyra and Damaris. Her curiosity would be + the last thing to fail Cynthia White. She had done very well all day; but + it would be asking too much of her to expect that she would consider the + meeting of these two women sacred from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + She half believed that Damaris would refuse to come. But Damaris came. + Jeanette brought her in amid the fiery glow of a November sunset. Thyra + stood up, and for a moment they looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + The insolence of Damaris' beauty was gone. Her eyes were dull and heavy + with weeping, her lips were pale, and her face had lost its laughter and + dimples. Only her hair, escaping from the shawl she had cast around it, + gushed forth in warm splendor in the sunset light, and framed her wan face + like the aureole of a Madonna. Thyra looked upon her with a shock of + remorse. This was not the radiant creature she had met on the bridge that + summer afternoon. This—this—was HER work. She held out her + arms. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Damaris, forgive me. We both loved him—that must be a bond + between us for life." + </p> + <p> + Damaris came forward and threw her arms about the older woman, lifting her + face. As their lips met even Cynthia White realized that she had no + business there. She vented the irritation of her embarrassment on the + innocent Jeanette. + </p> + <p> + "Come away," she whispered crossly. "Can't you see we're not wanted here?" + </p> + <p> + She drew Jeanette out, leaving Thyra rocking Damaris in her arms, and + crooning over her like a mother over her child. + </p> + <p> + When December had grown old Damaris was still with Thyra. It was + understood that she was to remain there for the winter, at least. Thyra + could not bear her to be out of her sight. They talked constantly about + Chester; Thyra confessed all her anger and hatred. Damaris had forgiven + her; but Thyra could never forgive herself. She was greatly changed, and + had grown very gentle and tender. She even sent for August Vorst and + begged him to pardon her for the way she had spoken to him. + </p> + <p> + Winter came late that year, and the season was a very open one. There was + no snow on the ground and, a month after Joe Raymond's boat had been cast + up on the Blue Point sand shore, Thyra, wandering about in her garden, + found some pansies blooming under their tangled leaves. She was picking + them for Damaris when she heard a buggy rumble over the bridge and drive + up the White lane, hidden from her sight by the alders and firs. A few + minutes later Carl and Cynthia came hastily across their yard under the + huge balm-of-gileads. Carl's face was flushed, and his big body quivered + with excitement. Cynthia ran behind him, with tears rolling down her face. + </p> + <p> + Thyra felt herself growing sick with fear. Had anything happened to + Damaris? A glimpse of the girl, sewing by an upper window of the house, + reassured her. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Thyra, Thyra!" gasped Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + "Can you stand some good news, Thyra?" asked Carl, in a trembling voice. + "Very, very good news!" + </p> + <p> + Thyra looked wildly from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + "There's but one thing you would dare to call good news to me," she cried. + "Is it about—about—" + </p> + <p> + "Chester! Yes, it's about Chester! Thyra, he is alive—he's safe—he + and Joe, both of them, thank God! Cynthia, catch her!" + </p> + <p> + "No, I am not going to faint," said Thyra, steadying herself by Cynthia's + shoulder. "My son alive! How did you hear? How did it happen? Where has he + been?" + </p> + <p> + "I heard it down at the harbor, Thyra. Mike McCready's vessel, the <i>Nora + Lee</i>, was just in from the Magdalens. Ches and Joe got capsized the + night of the storm, but they hung on to their boat somehow, and at + daybreak they were picked up by the <i>Nora Lee</i>, bound for Quebec. But + she was damaged by the storm and blown clear out of her course. Had to put + into the Magdalens for repairs, and has been there ever since. The cable + to the islands was out of order, and no vessels call there this time of + year for mails. If it hadn't been an extra open season the <i>Nora Lee</i> + wouldn't have got away, but would have had to stay there till spring. You + never saw such rejoicing as there was this morning at the harbor, when the + <i>Nora Lee</i> came in, flying flags at the mast head." + </p> + <p> + "And Chester—where is he?" demanded Thyra. + </p> + <p> + Carl and Cynthia looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Thyra," said the latter, "the fact is, he's over there in our yard + this blessed minute. Carl brought him home from the harbor, but I wouldn't + let him come over until we had prepared you for it. He's waiting for you + there." + </p> + <p> + Thyra made a quick step in the direction of the gate. Then she turned, + with a little of the glow dying out of her face. + </p> + <p> + "No, there's one has a better right to go to him first. I can atone to him—thank + God, I can atone to him!" + </p> + <p> + She went into the house and called Damaris. As the girl came down the + stairs Thyra held out her hands with a wonderful light of joy and + renunciation on her face. + </p> + <p> + "Damaris," she said, "Chester has come back to us—the sea has given + him back to us. He is over at Carl White's house. Go to him, my daughter, + and bring him to me!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE EDUCATION OF BETTY + </h2> + <p> + When Sara Currie married Jack Churchill I was broken-hearted...or believed + myself to be so, which, in a boy of twenty-two, amounts to pretty much the + same thing. Not that I took the world into my confidence; that was never + the Douglas way, and I held myself in honor bound to live up to the family + traditions. I thought, then, that nobody but Sara knew; but I dare say, + now, that Jack knew it also, for I don't think Sara could have helped + telling him. If he did know, however, he did not let me see that he did, + and never insulted me by any implied sympathy; on the contrary, he asked + me to be his best man. Jack was always a thoroughbred. + </p> + <p> + I was best man. Jack and I had always been bosom friends, and, although I + had lost my sweetheart, I did not intend to lose my friend into the + bargain. Sara had made a wise choice, for Jack was twice the man I was; he + had had to work for his living, which perhaps accounts for it. + </p> + <p> + So I danced at Sara's wedding as if my heart were as light as my heels; + but, after she and Jack had settled down at Glenby I closed The Maples and + went abroad...being, as I have hinted, one of those unfortunate mortals + who need consult nothing but their own whims in the matter of time and + money. I stayed away for ten years, during which The Maples was given over + to moths and rust, while I enjoyed life elsewhere. I did enjoy it hugely, + but always under protest, for I felt that a broken-hearted man ought not + to enjoy himself as I did. It jarred on my sense of fitness, and I tried + to moderate my zest, and think more of the past than I did. It was no use; + the present insisted on being intrusive and pleasant; as for the + future...well, there was no future. + </p> + <p> + Then Jack Churchill, poor fellow, died. A year after his death, I went + home and again asked Sara to marry me, as in duty bound. Sara again + declined, alleging that her heart was buried in Jack's grave, or words to + that effect. I found that it did not much matter...of course, at + thirty-two one does not take these things to heart as at twenty-two. I had + enough to occupy me in getting The Maples into working order, and + beginning to educate Betty. + </p> + <p> + Betty was Sara's ten year-old daughter, and she had been thoroughly + spoiled. That is to say, she had been allowed her own way in everything + and, having inherited her father's outdoor tastes, had simply run wild. + She was a thorough tomboy, a thin, scrawny little thing with a trace of + Sara's beauty. Betty took after her father's dark, tall race and, on the + occasion of my first introduction to her, seemed to be all legs and neck. + There were points about her, though, which I considered promising. She had + fine, almond-shaped, hazel eyes, the smallest and most shapely hands and + feet I ever saw, and two enormous braids of thick, nut-brown hair. + </p> + <p> + For Jack's sake I decided to bring his daughter up properly. Sara couldn't + do it, and didn't try. I saw that, if somebody didn't take Betty in hand, + wisely and firmly, she would certainly be ruined. There seemed to be + nobody except myself at all interested in the matter, so I determined to + see what an old bachelor could do as regards bringing up a girl in the way + she should go. I might have been her father; as it was, her father had + been my best friend. Who had a better right to watch over his daughter? I + determined to be a father to Betty, and do all for her that the most + devoted parent could do. It was, self-evidently, my duty. + </p> + <p> + I told Sara I was going to take Betty in hand. Sara sighed one of the + plaintive little sighs which I had once thought so charming, but now, to + my surprise, found faintly irritating, and said that she would be very + much obliged if I would. + </p> + <p> + "I feel that I am not able to cope with the problem of Betty's education, + Stephen," she admitted, "Betty is a strange child...all Churchill. Her + poor father indulged her in everything, and she has a will of her own, I + assure you. I have really no control over her, whatever. She does as she + pleases, and is ruining her complexion by running and galloping out of + doors the whole time. Not that she had much complexion to start with. The + Churchills never had, you know."...Sara cast a complacent glance at her + delicately tinted reflection in the mirror.... "I tried to make Betty wear + a sunbonnet this summer, but I might as well have talked to the wind." + </p> + <p> + A vision of Betty in a sunbonnet presented itself to my mind, and afforded + me so much amusement that I was grateful to Sara for having furnished it. + I rewarded her with a compliment. + </p> + <p> + "It is to be regretted that Betty has not inherited her mother's charming + color," I said, "but we must do the best we can for her under her + limitations. She may have improved vastly by the time she has grown up. + And, at least, we must make a lady of her; she is a most alarming tomboy + at present, but there is good material to work upon...there must be, in + the Churchill and Currie blend. But even the best material may be spoiled + by unwise handling. I think I can promise you that I will not spoil it. I + feel that Betty is my vocation; and I shall set myself up as a rival of + Wordsworth's 'nature,' of whose methods I have always had a decided + distrust, in spite of his insidious verses." + </p> + <p> + Sara did not understand me in the least; but, then, she did not pretend + to. + </p> + <p> + "I confide Betty's education entirely to you, Stephen," she said, with + another plaintive sigh. "I feel sure I could not put it into better hands. + You have always been a person who could be thoroughly depended on." + </p> + <p> + Well, that was something by way of reward for a life-long devotion. I felt + that I was satisfied with my position as unofficial advisor-in-chief to + Sara and self-appointed guardian of Betty. I also felt that, for the + furtherance of the cause I had taken to heart, it was a good thing that + Sara had again refused to marry me. I had a sixth sense which informed me + that a staid old family friend might succeed with Betty where a stepfather + would have signally failed. Betty's loyalty to her father's memory was + passionate, and vehement; she would view his supplanter with resentment + and distrust; but his old familiar comrade was a person to be taken to her + heart. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for the success of my enterprise, Betty liked me. She told me + this with the same engaging candor she would have used in informing me + that she hated me, if she had happened to take a bias in that direction, + saying frankly: + </p> + <p> + "You are one of the very nicest old folks I know, Stephen. Yes, you are a + ripping good fellow!" + </p> + <p> + This made my task a comparatively easy one; I sometimes shudder to think + what it might have been if Betty had not thought I was a "ripping good + fellow." I should have stuck to it, because that is my way; but Betty + would have made my life a misery to me. She had startling capacities for + tormenting people when she chose to exert them; I certainly should not + have liked to be numbered among Betty's foes. + </p> + <p> + I rode over to Glenby the next morning after my paternal interview with + Sara, intending to have a frank talk with Betty and lay the foundations of + a good understanding on both sides. Betty was a sharp child, with a + disconcerting knack of seeing straight through grindstones; she would + certainly perceive and probably resent any underhanded management. I + thought it best to tell her plainly that I was going to look after her. + </p> + <p> + When, however, I encountered Betty, tearing madly down the beech avenue + with a couple of dogs, her loosened hair streaming behind her like a + banner of independence, and had lifted her, hatless and breathless, up + before me on my mare, I found that Sara had saved me the trouble of an + explanation. + </p> + <p> + "Mother says you are going to take charge of my education, Stephen," said + Betty, as soon as she could speak. "I'm glad, because I think that, for an + old person, you have a good deal of sense. I suppose my education has to + be seen to, some time or other, and I'd rather you'd do it than anybody + else I know." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Betty," I said gravely. "I hope I shall deserve your good + opinion of my sense. I shall expect you to do as I tell you, and be guided + by my advice in everything." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I will," said Betty, "because I'm sure you won't tell me to do + anything I'd really hate to do. You won't shut me up in a room and make me + sew, will you? Because I won't do it." + </p> + <p> + I assured her I would not. + </p> + <p> + "Nor send me to a boarding-school," pursued Betty. "Mother's always + threatening to send me to one. I suppose she would have done it before + this, only she knew I'd run away. You won't send me to a boarding-school, + will you, Stephen? Because I won't go." + </p> + <p> + "No," I said obligingly. "I won't. I should never dream of cooping a wild + little thing, like you, up in a boarding-school. You'd fret your heart out + like a caged skylark." + </p> + <p> + "I know you and I are going to get along together splendidly, Stephen," + said Betty, rubbing her brown cheek chummily against my shoulder. "You are + so good at understanding. Very few people are. Even dad darling didn't + understand. He let me do just as I wanted to, just because I wanted to, + not because he really understood that I couldn't be tame and play with + dolls. I hate dolls! Real live babies are jolly; but dogs and horses are + ever so much nicer than dolls." + </p> + <p> + "But you must have lessons, Betty. I shall select your teachers and + superintend your studies, and I shall expect you to do me credit along + that line, as well as along all others." + </p> + <p> + "I'll try, honest and true, Stephen," declared Betty. And she kept her + word. + </p> + <p> + At first I looked upon Betty's education as a duty; in a very short time + it had become a pleasure...the deepest and most abiding interest of my + life. As I had premised, Betty was good material, and responded to my + training with gratifying plasticity. Day by day, week by week, month by + month, her character and temperament unfolded naturally under my watchful + eye. It was like beholding the gradual development of some rare flower in + one's garden. A little checking and pruning here, a careful training of + shoot and tendril there, and, lo, the reward of grace and symmetry! + </p> + <p> + Betty grew up as I would have wished Jack Churchill's girl to grow—spirited + and proud, with the fine spirit and gracious pride of pure womanhood, + loyal and loving, with the loyalty and love of a frank and unspoiled + nature; true to her heart's core, hating falsehood and sham—as + crystal-clear a mirror of maidenhood as ever man looked into and saw + himself reflected back in such a halo as made him ashamed of not being + more worthy of it. Betty was kind enough to say that I had taught her + everything she knew. But what had she not taught me? If there were a debt + between us, it was on my side. + </p> + <p> + Sara was fairly well satisfied. It was not my fault that Betty was not + better looking, she said. I had certainly done everything for her mind and + character that could be done. Sara's manner implied that these unimportant + details did not count for much, balanced against the lack of a + pink-and-white skin and dimpled elbows; but she was generous enough not to + blame me. + </p> + <p> + "When Betty is twenty-five," I said patiently—I had grown used to + speaking patiently to Sara—"she will be a magnificent woman—far + handsomer than you ever were, Sara, in your pinkest and whitest prime. + Where are your eyes, my dear lady, that you can't see the promise of + loveliness in Betty?" + </p> + <p> + "Betty is seventeen, and she is as lanky and brown as ever she was," + sighed Sara. "When I was seventeen I was the belle of the county and had + had five proposals. I don't believe the thought of a lover has ever + entered Betty's head." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not," I said shortly. Somehow, I did not like the suggestion. + "Betty is a child yet. For pity's sake, Sara, don't go putting nonsensical + ideas into her head." + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid I can't," mourned Sara, as if it were something to be + regretted. "You have filled it too full of books and things like that. + I've every confidence in your judgment, Stephen—and really you've + done wonders with Betty. But don't you think you've made her rather too + clever? Men don't like women who are too clever. Her poor father, now—he + always said that a woman who liked books better than beaux was an + unnatural creature." + </p> + <p> + I didn't believe Jack had ever said anything so foolish. Sara imagined + things. But I resented the aspersion of blue-stockingness cast on Betty. + </p> + <p> + "When the time comes for Betty to be interested in beaux," I said + severely, "she will probably give them all due attention. Just at present + her head is a great deal better filled with books than with silly + premature fancies and sentimentalities. I'm a critical old fellow—but + I'm satisfied with Betty, Sara—perfectly satisfied." + </p> + <p> + Sara sighed. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I dare say she is all right, Stephen. And I'm really grateful to you. + I'm sure I could have done nothing at all with her. It's not your fault, + of course,—but I can't help wishing she were a little more like + other girls." + </p> + <p> + I galloped away from Glenby in a rage. What a blessing Sara had not + married me in my absurd youth! She would have driven me wild with her + sighs and her obtuseness and her everlasting pink-and-whiteness. But there—there—there—gently! + She was a sweet, good-hearted little woman; she had made Jack happy; and + she had contrived, heaven only knew how, to bring a rare creature like + Betty into the world. For that, much might be forgiven her. By the time I + reached The Maples and had flung myself down in an old, kinky, comfortable + chair in my library I had forgiven her and was even paying her the + compliment of thinking seriously over what she had said. + </p> + <p> + Was Betty really unlike other girls? That is to say, unlike them in any + respect wherein she should resemble them? I did not wish this; although I + was a crusty old bachelor I approved of girls, holding them the sweetest + things the good God has made. I wanted Betty to have her full complement + of girlhood in all its best and highest manifestation. Was there anything + lacking? + </p> + <p> + I observed Betty very closely during the next week or so, riding over to + Glenby every day and riding back at night, meditating upon my + observations. Eventually I concluded to do what I had never thought myself + in the least likely to do. I would send Betty to a boarding-school for a + year. It was necessary that she should learn how to live with other girls. + </p> + <p> + I went over to Glenby the next day and found Betty under the beeches on + the lawn, just back from a canter. She was sitting on the dappled mare I + had given her on her last birthday, and was laughing at the antics of her + rejoicing dogs around her. I looked at her with much pleasure; it + gladdened me to see how much, nay, how totally a child she still was, + despite her Churchill height. Her hair, under her velvet cap, still hung + over her shoulders in the same thick plaits; her face had the firm + leanness of early youth, but its curves were very fine and delicate. The + brown skin, that worried Sara so, was flushed through with dusky color + from her gallop; her long, dark eyes were filled with the beautiful + unconsciousness of childhood. More than all, the soul in her was still the + soul of a child. I found myself wishing that it could always remain so. + But I knew it could not; the woman must blossom out some day; it was my + duty to see that the flower fulfilled the promise of the bud. + </p> + <p> + When I told Betty that she must go away to a school for a year, she + shrugged, frowned and consented. Betty had learned that she must consent + to what I decreed, even when my decrees were opposed to her likings, as + she had once fondly believed they never would be. But Betty had acquired + confidence in me to the beautiful extent of acquiescing in everything I + commanded. + </p> + <p> + "I'll go, of course, since you wish it, Stephen," she said. "But why do + you want me to go? You must have a reason—you always have a reason + for anything you do. What is it?" + </p> + <p> + "That is for you to find out, Betty," I said. "By the time you come back + you will have discovered it, I think. If not, it will not have proved + itself a good reason and shall be forgotten." + </p> + <p> + When Betty went away I bade her good-by without burdening her with any + useless words of advice. + </p> + <p> + "Write to me every week, and remember that you are Betty Churchill," I + said. + </p> + <p> + Betty was standing on the steps above, among her dogs. She came down a + step and put her arms about my neck. + </p> + <p> + "I'll remember that you are my friend and that I must live up to you," she + said. "Good-by, Stephen." + </p> + <p> + She kissed me two or three times—good, hearty smacks! did I not say + she was still a child?—and stood waving her hand to me as I rode + away. I looked back at the end of the avenue and saw her standing there, + short-skirted and hatless, fronting the lowering sun with those fearless + eyes of hers. So I looked my last on the child Betty. + </p> + <p> + That was a lonely year. My occupation was gone and I began to fear that I + had outlived my usefulness. Life seemed flat, stale, and unprofitable. + Betty's weekly letters were all that lent it any savor. They were spicy + and piquant enough. Betty was discovered to have unsuspected talents in + the epistolary line. At first she was dolefully homesick, and begged me to + let her come home. When I refused—it was amazingly hard to refuse—she + sulked through three letters, then cheered up and began to enjoy herself. + But it was nearly the end of the year when she wrote: + </p> + <p> + "I've found out why you sent me here, Stephen—and I'm glad you did." + </p> + <p> + I had to be away from home on unavoidable business the day Betty returned + to Glenby. But the next afternoon I went over. I found Betty out and Sara + in. The latter was beaming. Betty was so much improved, she declared + delightedly. I would hardly know "the dear child." + </p> + <p> + This alarmed me terribly. What on earth had they done to Betty? I found + that she had gone up to the pineland for a walk, and thither I betook + myself speedily. When I saw her coming down a long, golden-brown alley I + stepped behind a tree to watch her—I wished to see her, myself + unseen. As she drew near I gazed at her with pride, and admiration and + amazement—and, under it all, a strange, dreadful, heart-sinking, + which I could not understand and which I had never in all my life + experienced before—no, not even when Sara had refused me. + </p> + <p> + Betty was a woman! Not by virtue of the simple white dress that clung to + her tall, slender figure, revealing lines of exquisite grace and + litheness; not by virtue of the glossy masses of dark brown hair heaped + high on her head and held there in wonderful shining coils; not by virtue + of added softness of curve and daintiness of outline; not because of all + these, but because of the dream and wonder and seeking in her eyes. She + was a woman, looking, all unconscious of her quest, for love. + </p> + <p> + The understanding of the change in her came home to me with a shock that + must have left me, I think, something white about the lips. I was glad. + She was what I had wished her to become. But I wanted the child Betty + back; this womanly Betty seemed far away from me. + </p> + <p> + I stepped out into the path and she saw me, with a brightening of her + whole face. She did not rush forward and fling herself into my arms as she + would have done a year ago; but she came towards me swiftly, holding out + her hand. I had thought her slightly pale when I had first seen her; but + now I concluded I had been mistaken, for there was a wonderful sunrise of + color in her face. I took her hand—there were no kisses this time. + </p> + <p> + "Welcome home, Betty," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Stephen, it is so good to be back," she breathed, her eyes shining. + </p> + <p> + She did not say it was good to see me again, as I had hoped she would do. + Indeed, after the first minute of greeting, she seemed a trifle cool and + distant. We walked for an hour in the pine wood and talked. Betty was + brilliant, witty, self-possessed, altogether charming. I thought her + perfect and yet my heart ached. What a glorious young thing she was, in + that splendid youth of hers! What a prize for some lucky man—confound + the obtrusive thought! No doubt we should soon be overrun at Glenby with + lovers. I should stumble over some forlorn youth at every step! Well, what + of it? Betty would marry, of course. It would be my duty to see that she + got a good husband, worthy of her as men go. I thought I preferred the old + duty of superintending her studies. But there, it was all the same thing—merely + a post-graduate course in applied knowledge. When she began to learn + life's greatest lesson of love, I, the tried and true old family friend + and mentor, must be on hand to see that the teacher was what I would have + him be, even as I had formerly selected her instructor in French and + botany. Then, and not until then, would Betty's education be complete. + </p> + <p> + I rode home very soberly. When I reached The Maples I did what I had not + done for years...looked critically at myself in the mirror. The + realization that I had grown older came home to me with a new and + unpleasant force. There were marked lines on my lean face, and silver + glints in the dark hair over my temples. When Betty was ten she had + thought me "an old person." Now, at eighteen, she probably thought me a + veritable ancient of days. Pshaw, what did it matter? And yet...I thought + of her as I had seen her, standing under the pines, and something cold and + painful laid its hand on my heart. + </p> + <p> + My premonitions as to lovers proved correct. Glenby was soon infested with + them. Heaven knows where they all came from. I had not supposed there was + a quarter as many young men in the whole county; but there they were. Sara + was in the seventh heaven of delight. Was not Betty at last a belle? As + for the proposals...well, Betty never counted her scalps in public; but + every once in a while a visiting youth dropped out and was seen no more at + Glenby. One could guess what that meant. + </p> + <p> + Betty apparently enjoyed all this. I grieve to say that she was a bit of a + coquette. I tried to cure her of this serious defect, but for once I found + that I had undertaken something I could not accomplish. In vain I + lectured, Betty only laughed; in vain I gravely rebuked, Betty only + flirted more vivaciously than before. Men might come and men might go, but + Betty went on forever. I endured this sort of thing for a year and then I + decided that it was time to interfere seriously. I must find a husband for + Betty...my fatherly duty would not be fulfilled until I had...nor, indeed, + my duty to society. She was not a safe person to have running at large. + </p> + <p> + None of the men who haunted Glenby was good enough for her. I decided that + my nephew, Frank, would do very well. He was a capital young fellow, + handsome, clean-souled, and whole-hearted. From a worldly point of view he + was what Sara would have termed an excellent match; he had money, social + standing and a rising reputation as a clever young lawyer. Yes, he should + have Betty, confound him! + </p> + <p> + They had never met. I set the wheels going at once. The sooner all the + fuss was over the better. I hated fuss and there was bound to be a good + deal of it. But I went about the business like an accomplished matchmaker. + I invited Frank to visit The Maples and, before he came, I talked + much...but not too much...of him to Betty, mingling judicious praise and + still more judicious blame together. Women never like a paragon. Betty + heard me with more gravity than she usually accorded to my dissertations + on young men. She even condescended to ask several questions about him. + This I thought a good sign. + </p> + <p> + To Frank I had said not a word about Betty; when he came to The Maples I + took him over to Glenby and, coming upon Betty wandering about among the + beeches in the sunset, I introduced him without any warning. + </p> + <p> + He would have been more than mortal if he had not fallen in love with her + upon the spot. It was not in the heart of man to resist her...that dainty, + alluring bit of womanhood. She was all in white, with flowers in her hair, + and, for a moment, I could have murdered Frank or any other man who dared + to commit the sacrilege of loving her. + </p> + <p> + Then I pulled myself together and left them alone. I might have gone in + and talked to Sara...two old folks gently reviewing their youth while the + young folks courted outside...but I did not. I prowled about the pine + wood, and tried to forget how blithe and handsome that curly-headed boy, + Frank, was, and what a flash had sprung into his eyes when he had seen + Betty. Well, what of it? Was not that what I had brought him there for? + And was I not pleased at the success of my scheme? Certainly I was! + Delighted! + </p> + <p> + Next day Frank went to Glenby without even making the poor pretense of + asking me to accompany him. I spent the time of his absence overseeing the + construction of a new greenhouse I was having built. I was conscientious + in my supervision; but I felt no interest in it. The place was intended + for roses, and roses made me think of the pale yellow ones Betty had worn + at her breast one evening the week before, when, all lovers being + unaccountably absent, we had wandered together under the pines and talked + as in the old days before her young womanhood and my gray hairs had risen + up to divide us. She had dropped a rose on the brown floor, and I had + sneaked back, after I had left her the house, to get it, before I went + home. I had it now in my pocket-book. Confound it, mightn't a future uncle + cherish a family affection for his prospective niece? + </p> + <p> + Frank's wooing seemed to prosper. The other young sparks, who had haunted + Glenby, faded away after his advent. Betty treated him with most + encouraging sweetness; Sara smiled on him; I stood in the background, like + a benevolent god of the machine, and flattered myself that I pulled the + strings. + </p> + <p> + At the end of a month something went wrong. Frank came home from Glenby + one day in the dumps, and moped for two whole days. I rode down myself on + the third. I had not gone much to Glenby that month; but, if there were + trouble Bettyward, it was my duty to make smooth the rough places. + </p> + <p> + As usual, I found Betty in the pineland. I thought she looked rather pale + and dull...fretting about Frank no doubt. She brightened up when she saw + me, evidently expecting that I had come to straighten matters out; but she + pretended to be haughty and indifferent. + </p> + <p> + "I am glad you haven't forgotten us altogether, Stephen," she said coolly. + "You haven't been down for a week." + </p> + <p> + "I'm flattered that you noticed it," I said, sitting down on a fallen tree + and looking up at her as she stood, tall and lithe, against an old pine, + with her eyes averted. "I shouldn't have supposed you'd want an old fogy + like myself poking about and spoiling the idyllic moments of love's young + dream." + </p> + <p> + "Why do you always speak of yourself as old?" said Betty, crossly, + ignoring my reference to Frank. + </p> + <p> + "Because I am old, my dear. Witness these gray hairs." + </p> + <p> + I pushed up my hat to show them the more recklessly. + </p> + <p> + Betty barely glanced at them. + </p> + <p> + "You have just enough to give you a distinguished look," she said, "and + you are only forty. A man is in his prime at forty. He never has any sense + until he is forty—and sometimes he doesn't seem to have any even + then," she concluded impertinently. + </p> + <p> + My heart beat. Did Betty suspect? Was that last sentence meant to inform + me that she was aware of my secret folly, and laughed at it? + </p> + <p> + "I came over to see what has gone wrong between you and Frank," I said + gravely. + </p> + <p> + Betty bit her lips. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Betty," I said reproachfully, "I brought you up...or endeavored to bring + you up...to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. + Don't tell me I have failed. I'll give you another chance. Have you + quarreled with Frank?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said the maddening Betty, "HE quarreled with me. He went away in a + temper and I do not care if he never comes back!" + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + "This won't do, Betty. As your old family friend I still claim the right + to scold you until you have a husband to do the scolding. You mustn't + torment Frank. He is too fine a fellow. You must marry him, Betty." + </p> + <p> + "Must I?" said Betty, a dusky red flaming out on her cheek. She turned her + eyes on me in a most disconcerting fashion. "Do YOU wish me to marry + Frank, Stephen?" + </p> + <p> + Betty had a wretched habit of emphasizing pronouns in a fashion calculated + to rattle anybody. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do wish it, because I think it will be best for you," I replied, + without looking at her. "You must marry some time, Betty, and Frank is the + only man I know to whom I could trust you. As your guardian, I have an + interest in seeing you well and wisely settled for life. You have always + taken my advice and obeyed my wishes; and you've always found my way the + best, in the long run, haven't you, Betty? You won't prove rebellious now, + I'm sure. You know quite well that I am advising you for your own good. + Frank is a splendid young fellow, who loves you with all his heart. Marry + him, Betty. Mind, I don't COMMAND. I have no right to do that, and you are + too old to be ordered about, if I had. But I wish and advise it. Isn't + that enough, Betty?" + </p> + <p> + I had been looking away from her all the time I was talking, gazing + determinedly down a sunlit vista of pines. Every word I said seemed to + tear my heart, and come from my lips stained with life-blood. Yes, Betty + should marry Frank! But, good God, what would become of me! + </p> + <p> + Betty left her station under the pine tree, and walked around me until she + got right in front of my face. I couldn't help looking at her, for if I + moved my eyes she moved too. There was nothing meek or submissive about + her; her head was held high, her eyes were blazing, and her cheeks were + crimson. But her words were meek enough. + </p> + <p> + "I will marry Frank if you wish it, Stephen," she said. "You are my + friend. I have never crossed your wishes, and, as you say, I have never + regretted being guided by them. I will do exactly as you wish in this case + also, I promise you that. But, in so solemn a question, I must be very + certain what you DO wish. There must be no doubt in my mind or heart. Look + me squarely in the eyes, Stephen—as you haven't done once to-day, + no, nor once since I came home from school—and, so looking, tell me + that you wish me to marry Frank Douglas and I will do it! DO you, + Stephen?" + </p> + <p> + I had to look her in the eyes, since nothing else would do her; and, as I + did so, all the might of manhood in me rose up in hot revolt against the + lie I would have told her. That unfaltering, impelling gaze of hers drew + the truth from my lips in spite of myself. + </p> + <p> + "No, I don't wish you to marry Frank Douglas, a thousand times no!" I said + passionately. "I don't wish you to marry any man on earth but myself. I + love you—I love you, Betty. You are dearer to me than life—dearer + to me than my own happiness. It was your happiness I thought of—and + so I asked you to marry Frank because I believed he would make you a happy + woman. That is all!" + </p> + <p> + Betty's defiance went from her like a flame blown out. She turned away and + drooped her proud head. + </p> + <p> + "It could not have made me a happy woman to marry one man, loving + another," she said, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + I got up and went over to her. + </p> + <p> + "Betty, whom do you love?" I asked, also in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + "You," she murmured meekly—oh, so meekly, my proud little girl! + </p> + <p> + "Betty," I said brokenly, "I'm old—too old for you—I'm more + than twenty years your senior—I'm—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" Betty wheeled around on me and stamped her foot. "Don't mention your + age to me again. I don't care if you're as old as Methuselah. But I'm not + going to coax you to marry me, sir! If you won't, I'll never marry anybody—I'll + live and die an old maid. You can please yourself, of course!" + </p> + <p> + She turned away, half-laughing, half-crying; but I caught her in my arms + and crushed her sweet lips against mine. + </p> + <p> + "Betty, I'm the happiest man in the world—and I was the most + miserable when I came here." + </p> + <p> + "You deserved to be," said Betty cruelly. "I'm glad you were. Any man as + stupid as you deserves to be unhappy. What do you think I felt like, + loving you with all my heart, and seeing you simply throwing me at another + man's head. Why, I've always loved you, Stephen; but I didn't know it + until I went to that detestable school. Then I found out—and I + thought that was why you had sent me. But, when I came home, you almost + broke my heart. That was why I flirted so with all those poor, nice boys—I + wanted to hurt you but I never thought I succeeded. You just went on being + FATHERLY. Then, when you brought Frank here, I almost gave up hope; and I + tried to make up my mind to marry him; I should have done it if you had + insisted. But I had to have one more try for happiness first. I had just + one little hope to inspire me with sufficient boldness. I saw you, that + night, when you came back here and picked up my rose! I had come back, + myself, to be alone and unhappy." + </p> + <p> + "It is the most wonderful thing that ever happened—that you should + love me," I said. + </p> + <p> + "It's not—I couldn't help it," said Betty, nestling her brown head + on my shoulder. "You taught me everything else, Stephen, so nobody but you + could teach me how to love. You've made a thorough thing of educating me." + </p> + <p> + "When will you marry me, Betty?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "As soon as I can fully forgive you for trying to make me marry somebody + else," said Betty. + </p> + <p> + It was rather hard lines on Frank, when you come to think of it. But, such + is the selfishness of human nature that we didn't think much about Frank. + The young fellow behaved like the Douglas he was. Went a little white + about the lips when I told him, wished me all happiness, and went quietly + away, "gentleman unafraid." + </p> + <p> + He has since married and is, I understand, very happy. Not as happy as I + am, of course; that is impossible, because there is only one Betty in the + world, and she is my wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. IN HER SELFLESS MOOD + </h2> + <p> + The raw wind of an early May evening was puffing in and out the curtains + of the room where Naomi Holland lay dying. The air was moist and chill, + but the sick woman would not have the window closed. + </p> + <p> + "I can't get my breath if you shut everything up so tight," she said. + "Whatever comes, I ain't going to be smothered to death, Car'line + Holland." + </p> + <p> + Outside of the window grew a cherry tree, powdered with moist buds with + the promise of blossoms she would not live to see. Between its boughs she + saw a crystal cup of sky over hills that were growing dim and purple. The + outside air was full of sweet, wholesome springtime sounds that drifted in + fitfully. There were voices and whistles in the barnyard, and now and then + faint laughter. A bird alighted for a moment on a cherry bough, and + twittered restlessly. Naomi knew that white mists were hovering in the + silent hollows, that the maple at the gate wore a misty blossom red, and + that violet stars were shining bluely on the brooklands. + </p> + <p> + The room was a small, plain one. The floor was bare, save for a couple of + braided rugs, the plaster discolored, the walls dingy and glaring. There + had never been much beauty in Naomi Holland's environment, and, now that + she was dying, there was even less. + </p> + <p> + At the open window a boy of about ten years was leaning out over the sill + and whistling. He was tall for his age, and beautiful—the hair a + rich auburn with a glistening curl in it, skin very white and warm-tinted, + eyes small and of a greenish blue, with dilated pupils and long lashes. He + had a weak chin, and a full, sullen mouth. + </p> + <p> + The bed was in the corner farthest from the window; on it the sick woman, + in spite of the pain that was her portion continually, was lying as quiet + and motionless as she had done ever since she had lain down upon it for + the last time. Naomi Holland never complained; when the agony was at its + worst, she shut her teeth more firmly over her bloodless lip, and her + great black eyes glared at the blank wall before in a way that gave her + attendants what they called "the creeps," but no word or moan escaped her. + </p> + <p> + Between the paroxysms she kept up her keen interest in the life that went + on about her. Nothing escaped her sharp, alert eyes and ears. This evening + she lay spent on the crumpled pillows; she had had a bad spell in the + afternoon and it had left her very weak. In the dim light her extremely + long face looked corpse-like already. Her black hair lay in a heavy braid + over the pillow and down the counterpane. It was all that was left of her + beauty, and she took a fierce joy in it. Those long, glistening, sinuous + tresses must be combed and braided every day, no matter what came. + </p> + <p> + A girl of fourteen was curled up on a chair at the head of the bed, with + her head resting on the pillow. The boy at the window was her + half-brother; but, between Christopher Holland and Eunice Carr, not the + slightest resemblance existed. + </p> + <p> + Presently the sibilant silence was broken by a low, half-strangled sob. + The sick woman, who had been watching a white evening star through the + cherry boughs, turned impatiently at the sound. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you'd get over that, Eunice," she said sharply. "I don't want any + one crying over me until I'm dead; and then you'll have plenty else to do, + most likely. If it wasn't for Christopher I wouldn't be anyways unwilling + to die. When one has had such a life as I've had, there isn't much in + death to be afraid of. Only, a body would like to go right off, and not + die by inches, like this. 'Tain't fair!" + </p> + <p> + She snapped out the last sentence as if addressing some unseen, tyrannical + presence; her voice, at least, had not weakened, but was as clear and + incisive as ever. The boy at the window stopped whistling, and the girl + silently wiped her eyes on her faded gingham apron. + </p> + <p> + Naomi drew her own hair over her lips, and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + "You'll never have hair like that, Eunice," she said. "It does seem most + too pretty to bury, doesn't it? Mind you see that it is fixed nice when + I'm laid out. Comb it right up on my head and braid it there." + </p> + <p> + A sound, such as might be wrung from a suffering animal, came from the + girl, but at the same moment the door opened and a woman entered. + </p> + <p> + "Chris," she said sharply, "you get right off for the cows, you lazy + little scamp! You knew right well you had to go for them, and here you've + been idling, and me looking high and low for you. Make haste now; it's + ridiculous late." + </p> + <p> + The boy pulled in his head and scowled at his aunt, but he dared not + disobey, and went out slowly with a sulky mutter. + </p> + <p> + His aunt subdued a movement, that might have developed into a sound box on + his ears, with a rather frightened glance at the bed. Naomi Holland was + spent and dying, but her temper was still a thing to hold in dread, and + her sister-in-law did not choose to rouse it by slapping Christopher. To + her and her co-nurse the spasms of rage, which the sick woman sometimes + had, seemed to partake of the nature of devil possession. The last one, + only three days before, had been provoked by Christopher's complaint of + some real or fancied ill-treatment from his aunt, and the latter had no + mind to bring on another. She went over to the bed, and straightened the + clothes. + </p> + <p> + "Sarah and I are going out to milk, Naomi, Eunice will stay with you. She + can run for us if you feel another spell coming on." + </p> + <p> + Naomi Holland looked up at her sister-in-law with something like malicious + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't going to have any more spells, Car'line Anne. I'm going to die + to-night. But you needn't hurry milking for that, at all. I'll take my + time." + </p> + <p> + She liked to see the alarm that came over the other woman's face. It was + richly worth while to scare Caroline Holland like that. + </p> + <p> + "Are you feeling worse, Naomi?" asked the latter shakily. "If you are I'll + send for Charles to go for the doctor." + </p> + <p> + "No, you won't. What good can the doctor do me? I don't want either his or + Charles' permission to die. You can go and milk at your ease. I won't die + till you're done—I won't deprive you of the pleasure of seeing me." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Holland shut her lips and went out of the room with a martyr-like + expression. In some ways Naomi Holland was not an exacting patient, but + she took her satisfaction out in the biting, malicious speeches she never + failed to make. Even on her death-bed her hostility to her sister-in-law + had to find vent. + </p> + <p> + Outside, at the steps, Sarah Spencer was waiting, with the milk pails over + her arm. Sarah Spencer had no fixed abiding place, but was always to be + found where there was illness. Her experience, and an utter lack of + nerves, made her a good nurse. She was a tall, homely woman with iron gray + hair and a lined face. Beside her, the trim little Caroline Anne, with her + light step and round, apple-red face, looked almost girlish. + </p> + <p> + The two women walked to the barnyard, discussing Naomi in undertones as + they went. The house they had left behind grew very still. + </p> + <p> + In Naomi Holland's room the shadows were gathering. Eunice timidly bent + over her mother. + </p> + <p> + "Ma, do you want the light lit?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I'm watching that star just below the big cherry bough. I'll see it + set behind the hill. I've seen it there, off and on, for twelve years, and + now I'm taking a good-by look at it. I want you to keep still, too. I've + got a few things to think over, and I don't want to be disturbed." + </p> + <p> + The girl lifted herself about noiselessly and locked her hands over the + bed-post. Then she laid her face down on them, biting at them silently + until the marks of her teeth showed white against their red roughness. + </p> + <p> + Naomi Holland did not notice her. She was looking steadfastly at the + great, pearl-like sparkle in the faint-hued sky. When it finally + disappeared from her vision she struck her long, thin hands together + twice, and a terrible expression came over her face for a moment. But, + when she spoke, her voice was quite calm. + </p> + <p> + "You can light the candle now, Eunice. Put it up on the shelf here, where + it won't shine in my eyes. And then sit down on the foot of the bed where + I can see you. I've got something to say to you." + </p> + <p> + Eunice obeyed her noiselessly. As the pallid light shot up, it revealed + the child plainly. She was thin and ill-formed—one shoulder being + slightly higher than the other. She was dark, like her mother, but her + features were irregular, and her hair fell in straggling, dim locks about + her face. Her eyes were a dark brown, and over one was the slanting red + scar of a birth mark. + </p> + <p> + Naomi Holland looked at her with the contempt she had never made any + pretense of concealing. The girl was bone of her bone and flesh of her + flesh, but she had never loved her; all the mother love in her had been + lavished on her son. + </p> + <p> + When Eunice had placed the candle on the shelf and drawn down the ugly + blue paper blinds, shutting out the strips of violet sky where a score of + glimmering points were now visible, she sat down on the foot of the bed, + facing her mother. + </p> + <p> + "The door is shut, is it, Eunice?" + </p> + <p> + Eunice nodded. + </p> + <p> + "Because I don't want Car'line or any one else peeking and harking to what + I've got to say. She's out milking now, and I must make the most of the + chance. Eunice, I'm going to die, and..." + </p> + <p> + "Ma!" + </p> + <p> + "There now, no taking on! You knew it had to come sometime soon. I haven't + the strength to talk much, so I want you just to be quiet and listen. I + ain't feeling any pain now, so I can think and talk pretty clear. Are you + listening, Eunice?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma." + </p> + <p> + "Mind you are. It's about Christopher. It hasn't been out of my mind since + I laid down here. I've fought for a year to live, on his account, and it + ain't any use. I must just die and leave him, and I don't know what he'll + do. It's dreadful to think of." + </p> + <p> + She paused, and struck her shrunken hand sharply against the table. + </p> + <p> + "If he was bigger and could look out for himself it wouldn't be so bad. + But he is only a little fellow, and Car'line hates him. You'll both have + to live with her until you're grown up. She'll put on him and abuse him. + He's like his father in some ways; he's got a temper and he is stubborn. + He'll never get on with Car'line. Now, Eunice, I'm going to get you to + promise to take my place with Christopher when I'm dead, as far as you + can. You've got to; it's your duty. But I want you to promise." + </p> + <p> + "I will, ma," whispered the girl solemnly. + </p> + <p> + "You haven't much force—you never had. If you was smart, you could + do a lot for him. But you'll have to do your best. I want you to promise + me faithfully that you'll stand by him and protect him—that you + won't let people impose on him; that you'll never desert him as long as he + needs you, no matter what comes. Eunice, promise me this!" + </p> + <p> + In her excitement the sick woman raised herself up in the bed, and + clutched the girl's thin arm. Her eyes were blazing and two scarlet spots + glowed in her thin cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Eunice's face was white and tense. She clasped her hands as one in prayer. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, I promise it!" + </p> + <p> + Naomi relaxed her grip on the girl's arm and sank back exhausted on the + pillow. A death-like look came over her face as the excitement faded. + </p> + <p> + "My mind is easier now. But if I could only have lived another year or + two! And I hate Car'line—hate her! Eunice, don't you ever let her + abuse my boy! If she did, or if you neglected him, I'd come back from my + grave to you! As for the property, things will be pretty straight. I've + seen to that. There'll be no squabbling and doing Christopher out of his + rights. He's to have the farm as soon as he's old enough to work it, and + he's to provide for you. And, Eunice, remember what you've promised!" + </p> + <p> + Outside, in the thickly gathering dusk, Caroline Holland and Sarah Spencer + were at the dairy, straining the milk into creamers, for which Christopher + was sullenly pumping water. The house was far from the road, up to which a + long red lane led; across the field was the old Holland homestead where + Caroline lived; her unmarried sister-in-law, Electa Holland, kept house + for her while she waited on Naomi. + </p> + <p> + It was her night to go home and sleep, but Naomi's words haunted her, + although she believed they were born of pure "cantankerousness." + </p> + <p> + "You'd better go in and look at her, Sarah," she said, as she rinsed out + the pails. "If you think I'd better stay here to-night, I will. If the + woman was like anybody else a body would know what to do; but, if she + thought she could scare us by saying she was going to die, she'd say it." + </p> + <p> + When Sarah went in, the sick room was very quiet. In her opinion, Naomi + was no worse than usual, and she told Caroline so; but the latter felt + vaguely uneasy and concluded to stay. + </p> + <p> + Naomi was as cool and defiant as customary. She made them bring + Christopher in to say good-night and had him lifted up on the bed to kiss + her. Then she held him back and looked at him admiringly—at the + bright curls and rosy cheeks and round, firm limbs. The boy was + uncomfortable under her gaze and squirmed hastily down. Her eyes followed + him greedily, as he went out. When the door closed behind him, she + groaned. Sarah Spencer was startled. She had never heard Naomi Holland + groan since she had come to wait on her. + </p> + <p> + "Are you feeling any worse, Naomi? Is the pain coming back?" + </p> + <p> + "No. Go and tell Car'line to give Christopher some of that grape jelly on + his bread before he goes to bed. She'll find it in the cupboard under the + stairs." + </p> + <p> + Presently the house grew very still. Caroline had dropped asleep on the + sitting-room lounge, across the hall. Sarah Spencer nodded over her + knitting by the table in the sick room. She had told Eunice to go to bed, + but the child refused. She still sat huddled up on the foot of the bed, + watching her mother's face intently. Naomi appeared to sleep. The candle + burned long, and the wick was crowned by a little cap of fiery red that + seemed to watch Eunice like some impish goblin. The wavering light cast + grotesque shadows of Sarah Spencer's head on the wall. The thin curtains + at the window wavered to and fro, as if shaken by ghostly hands. + </p> + <p> + At midnight Naomi Holland opened her eyes. The child she had never loved + was the only one to go with her to the brink of the Unseen. + </p> + <p> + "Eunice—remember!" + </p> + <p> + It was the faintest whisper. The soul, passing over the threshold of + another life, strained back to its only earthly tie. A quiver passed over + the long, pallid face. + </p> + <p> + A horrible scream rang through the silent house. Sarah Spencer sprang out + of her doze in consternation, and gazed blankly at the shrieking child. + Caroline came hurrying in with distended eyes. On the bed Naomi Holland + lay dead. + </p> + <p> + In the room where she had died Naomi Holland lay in her coffin. It was dim + and hushed; but, in the rest of the house, the preparations for the + funeral were being hurried on. Through it all Eunice moved, calm and + silent. Since her one wild spasm of screaming by her mother's death-bed + she had shed no tear, given no sign of grief. Perhaps, as her mother had + said, she had no time. There was Christopher to be looked after. The boy's + grief was stormy and uncontrolled. He had cried until he was utterly + exhausted. It was Eunice who soothed him, coaxed him to eat, kept him + constantly by her. At night she took him to her own room and watched over + him while he slept. + </p> + <p> + When the funeral was over the household furniture was packed away or sold. + The house was locked up and the farm rented. There was nowhere for the + children to go, save to their uncle's. Caroline Holland did not want them, + but, having to take them, she grimly made up her mind to do what she + considered her duty by them. She had five children of her own and between + them and Christopher a standing feud had existed from the time he could + walk. + </p> + <p> + She had never liked Naomi. Few people did. Benjamin Holland had not + married until late in life, and his wife had declared war on his family at + sight. She was a stranger in Avonlea,—a widow, with a three year-old + child. She made few friends, as some people always asserted that she was + not in her right mind. + </p> + <p> + Within a year of her second marriage Christopher was born, and from the + hour of his birth his mother had worshiped him blindly. He was her only + solace. For him she toiled and pinched and saved. Benjamin Holland had not + been "fore-handed" when she married him; but, when he died, six years + after his marriage, he was a well-to-do man. + </p> + <p> + Naomi made no pretense of mourning for him. It was an open secret that + they had quarreled like the proverbial cat and dog. Charles Holland and + his wife had naturally sided with Benjamin, and Naomi fought her battles + single-handed. After her husband's death, she managed to farm alone, and + made it pay. When the mysterious malady which was to end her life first + seized on her she fought against it with all the strength and stubbornness + of her strong and stubborn nature. Her will won for her an added year of + life, and then she had to yield. She tasted all the bitterness of death + the day on which she lay down on her bed, and saw her enemy come in to + rule her house. + </p> + <p> + But Caroline Holland was not a bad or unkind woman. True, she did not love + Naomi or her children; but the woman was dying and must be looked after + for the sake of common humanity. Caroline thought she had done well by her + sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + When the red clay was heaped over Naomi's grave in the Avonlea burying + ground, Caroline took Eunice and Christopher home with her. Christopher + did not want to go; it was Eunice who reconciled him. He clung to her with + an exacting affection born of loneliness and grief. + </p> + <p> + In the days that followed Caroline Holland was obliged to confess to + herself that there would have been no doing anything with Christopher had + it not been for Eunice. The boy was sullen and obstinate, but his sister + had an unfailing influence over him. + </p> + <p> + In Charles Holland's household no one was allowed to eat the bread of + idleness. His own children were all girls, and Christopher came in handy + as a chore boy. He was made to work—perhaps too hard. But Eunice + helped him, and did half his work for him when nobody knew. When he + quarreled with his cousins, she took his part; whenever possible she took + on herself the blame and punishment of his misdeeds. + </p> + <p> + Electa Holland was Charles' unmarried sister. She had kept house for + Benjamin until he married; then Naomi had bundled her out. Electa had + never forgiven her for it. Her hatred passed on to Naomi's children. In a + hundred petty ways she revenged herself on them. For herself, Eunice bore + it patiently; but it was a different matter when it touched Christopher. + </p> + <p> + Once Electa boxed Christopher's ears. Eunice, who was knitting by the + table, stood up. A resemblance to her mother, never before visible, came + out in her face like a brand. She lifted her hand and slapped Electa's + cheek deliberately twice, leaving a dull red mark where she struck. + </p> + <p> + "If you ever strike my brother again," she said, slowly and vindictively, + "I will slap your face every time you do. You have no right to touch him." + </p> + <p> + "My patience, what a fury!" said Electa. "Naomi Holland'll never be dead + as long as you're alive!" + </p> + <p> + She told Charles of the affair and Eunice was severely punished. But + Electa never interfered with Christopher again. + </p> + <p> + All the discordant elements in the Holland household could not prevent the + children from growing up. It was a consummation which the harrassed + Caroline devoutly wished. When Christopher Holland was seventeen he was a + man grown—a big, strapping fellow. His childish beauty had + coarsened, but he was thought handsome by many. + </p> + <p> + He took charge of his mother's farm then, and the brother and sister began + their new life together in the long-unoccupied house. There were few + regrets on either side when they left Charles Holland's roof. In her + secret heart Eunice felt an unspeakable relief. + </p> + <p> + Christopher had been "hard to manage," as his uncle said, in the last + year. He was getting into the habit of keeping late hours and doubtful + company. This always provoked an explosion of wrath from Charles Holland, + and the conflicts between him and his nephew were frequent and bitter. + </p> + <p> + For four years after their return home Eunice had a hard and anxious life. + Christopher was idle and dissipated. Most people regarded him as a + worthless fellow, and his uncle washed his hands of him utterly. Only + Eunice never failed him; she never reproached or railed; she worked like a + slave to keep things together. Eventually her patience prevailed. + Christopher, to a great extent, reformed and worked harder. He was never + unkind to Eunice, even in his rages. It was not in him to appreciate or + return her devotion; but his tolerant acceptance of it was her solace. + </p> + <p> + When Eunice was twenty-eight, Edward Bell wanted to marry her. He was a + plain, middle-aged widower with four children; but, as Caroline did not + fail to remind her, Eunice herself was not for every market, and the + former did her best to make the match. She might have succeeded had it not + been for Christopher. When he, in spite of Caroline's skillful management, + got an inkling of what was going on, he flew into a true Holland rage. If + Eunice married and left him—he would sell the farm and go to the + Devil by way of the Klondike. He could not, and would not, do without her. + No arrangement suggested by Caroline availed to pacify him, and, in the + end, Eunice refused to marry Edward Bell. She could not leave Christopher, + she said simply, and in this she stood rock-firm. Caroline could not budge + her an inch. + </p> + <p> + "You're a fool, Eunice," she said, when she was obliged to give up in + despair. "It's not likely you'll ever have another chance. As for Chris, + in a year or two he'll be marrying himself, and where will you be then? + You'll find your nose nicely out of joint when he brings a wife in here." + </p> + <p> + The shaft went home. Eunice's lips turned white. But she said, faintly, + "The house is big enough for us both, if he does." + </p> + <p> + Caroline sniffed. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe so. You'll find out. However, there's no use talking. You're as set + as your mother was, and nothing would ever budge her an inch. I only hope + you won't be sorry for it." + </p> + <p> + When three more years had passed Christopher began to court Victoria Pye. + The affair went on for some time before either Eunice or the Hollands go + wind of it. When they did there was an explosion. Between the Hollands and + the Pyes, root and branch, existed a feud that dated back for three + generations. That the original cause of the quarrel was totally forgotten + did not matter; it was matter of family pride that a Holland should have + no dealings with a Pye. + </p> + <p> + When Christopher flew so openly in the face of this cherished hatred, + there could be nothing less than consternation. Charles Holland broke + through his determination to have nothing to do with Christopher, to + remonstrate. Caroline went to Eunice in as much of a splutter as if + Christopher had been her own brother. + </p> + <p> + Eunice did not care a row of pins for the Holland-Pye feud. Victoria was + to her what any other girl, upon whom Christopher cast eyes of love, would + have been—a supplanter. For the first time in her life she was torn + with passionate jealousy; existence became a nightmare to her. Urged on by + Caroline, and her own pain, she ventured to remonstrate with Christopher, + also. She had expected a burst of rage, but he was surprisingly + good-natured. He seemed even amused. + </p> + <p> + "What have you got against Victoria?" he asked, tolerantly. + </p> + <p> + Eunice had no answer ready. It was true that nothing could be said against + the girl. She felt helpless and baffled. Christopher laughed at her + silence. + </p> + <p> + "I guess you're a little jealous," he said. "You must have expected I + would get married some time. This house is big enough for us all. You'd + better look at the matter sensibly, Eunice. Don't let Charles and Caroline + put nonsense into your head. A man must marry to please himself." + </p> + <p> + Christopher was out late that night. Eunice waited up for him, as she + always did. It was a chilly spring evening, reminding her of the night her + mother had died. The kitchen was in spotless order, and she sat down on a + stiff-backed chair by the window to wait for her brother. + </p> + <p> + She did not want a light. The moonlight fell in with faint illumination. + Outside, the wind was blowing over a bed of new-sprung mint in the garden, + and was suggestively fragrant. It was a very old-fashioned garden, full of + perennials Naomi Holland had planted long ago. Eunice always kept it + primly neat. She had been working in it that day, and felt tired. + </p> + <p> + She was all alone in the house and the loneliness filled her with a faint + dread. She had tried all that day to reconcile herself to Christopher's + marriage, and had partially succeeded. She told herself that she could + still watch over him and care for his comfort. She would even try to love + Victoria; after all, it might be pleasant to have another woman in the + house. So, sitting there, she fed her hungry soul with these husks of + comfort. + </p> + <p> + When she heard Christopher's step she moved about quickly to get a light. + He frowned when he saw her; he had always resented her sitting up for him. + He sat down by the stove and took off his boots, while Eunice got a lunch + for him. After he had eaten it in silence he made no move to go to bed. A + chill, premonitory fear crept over Eunice. It did not surprise her at all + when Christopher finally said, abruptly, "Eunice, I've a notion to get + married this spring." + </p> + <p> + Eunice clasped her hands together under the table. It was what she had + been expecting. She said so, in a monotonous voice. + </p> + <p> + "We must make some arrangement for—for you, Eunice," Christopher + went on, in a hurried, hesitant way, keeping his eyes riveted doggedly on + his plate. "Victoria doesn't exactly like—well, she thinks it's + better for young married folks to begin life by themselves, and I guess + she's about right. You wouldn't find it comfortable, anyhow, having to + step back to second place after being mistress here so long." + </p> + <p> + Eunice tried to speak, but only an indistinct murmur came from her + bloodless lips. The sound made Christopher look up. Something in her face + irritated him. He pushed back his chair impatiently. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Eunice, don't go taking on. It won't be any use. Look at this + business in a sensible way. I'm fond of you, and all that, but a man is + bound to consider his wife first. I'll provide for you comfortably." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean to say that your wife is going to turn me out?" Eunice + gasped, rather than spoke, the words. + </p> + <p> + Christopher drew his reddish brows together. + </p> + <p> + "I just mean that Victoria says she won't marry me if she has to live with + you. She's afraid of you. I told her you wouldn't interfere with her, but + she wasn't satisfied. It's your own fault, Eunice. You've always been so + queer and close that people think you're an awful crank. Victoria's young + and lively, and you and she wouldn't get on at all. There isn't any + question of turning you out. I'll build a little house for you somewhere, + and you'll be a great deal better off there than you would be here. So + don't make a fuss." + </p> + <p> + Eunice did not look as if she were going to make a fuss. She sat as if + turned to stone, her hands lying palm upward in her lap. Christopher got + up, hugely relieved that the dreaded explanation was over. + </p> + <p> + "Guess I'll go to bed. You'd better have gone long ago. It's all nonsense, + this waiting up for me." + </p> + <p> + When he had gone Eunice drew a long, sobbing breath and looked about her + like a dazed soul. All the sorrow of her life was as nothing to the + desolation that assailed her now. + </p> + <p> + She rose and, with uncertain footsteps, passed out through the hall and + into the room where her mother died. She had always kept it locked and + undisturbed; it was arranged just as Naomi Holland had left it. Eunice + tottered to the bed and sat down on it. + </p> + <p> + She recalled the promise she had made to her mother in that very room. Was + the power to keep it to be wrested from her? Was she to be driven from her + home and parted from the only creature she had on earth to love? And would + Christopher allow it, after all her sacrifices for him? Aye, that he + would! He cared more for that black-eyed, waxen-faced girl at the old Pye + place than for his own kin. Eunice put her hands over her dry, burning + eyes and groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + Caroline Holland had her hour of triumph over Eunice when she heard it + all. To one of her nature there was no pleasure so sweet as that of + saying, "I told you so." Having said it, however, she offered Eunice a + home. Electa Holland was dead, and Eunice might fill her place very + acceptably, if she would. + </p> + <p> + "You can't go off and live by yourself," Caroline told her. "It's all + nonsense to talk of such a thing. We will give you a home, if Christopher + is going to turn you out. You were always a fool, Eunice, to pet and + pamper him as you've done. This is the thanks you get for it—turned + out like a dog for his fine wife's whim! I only wish your mother was + alive!" + </p> + <p> + It was probably the first time Caroline had ever wished this. She had + flown at Christopher like a fury about the matter, and had been rudely + insulted for her pains. Christopher had told her to mind her own business. + </p> + <p> + When Caroline cooled down she made some arrangements with him, to all of + which Eunice listlessly assented. She did not care what became of her. + When Christopher Holland brought Victoria as mistress to the house where + his mother had toiled, and suffered, and ruled with her rod of iron, + Eunice was gone. In Charles Holland's household she took Electa's place—an + unpaid upper servant. + </p> + <p> + Charles and Caroline were kind enough to her, and there was plenty to do. + For five years her dull, colorless life went on, during which time she + never crossed the threshold of the house where Victoria Holland ruled with + a sway as absolute as Naomi's had been. Caroline's curiosity led her, + after her first anger had cooled, to make occasional calls, the + observations of which she faithfully reported to Eunice. The latter never + betrayed any interest in them, save once. This was when Caroline came home + full of the news that Victoria had had the room where Naomi died opened + up, and showily furnished as a parlor. Then Eunice's sallow face + crimsoned, and her eyes flashed, over the desecration. But no word of + comment or complaint ever crossed her lips. + </p> + <p> + She knew, as every one else knew, that the glamor soon went from + Christopher Holland's married life. The marriage proved an unhappy one. + Not unnaturally, although unjustly, Eunice blamed Victoria for this, and + hated her more than ever for it. + </p> + <p> + Christopher seldom came to Charles' house. Possibly he felt ashamed. He + had grown into a morose, silent man, at home and abroad. It was said he + had gone back to his old drinking habits. + </p> + <p> + One fall Victoria Holland went to town to visit her married sister. She + took their only child with her. In her absence Christopher kept house for + himself. + </p> + <p> + It was a fall long remembered in Avonlea. With the dropping of the leaves, + and the shortening of the dreary days, the shadow of a fear fell over the + land. Charles Holland brought the fateful news home one night. + </p> + <p> + "There's smallpox in Charlottetown—five or six cases. Came in one of + the vessels. There was a concert, and a sailor from one of the ships was + there, and took sick the next day." + </p> + <p> + This was alarming enough. Charlottetown was not so very far away and + considerable traffic went on between it and the north shore districts. + </p> + <p> + When Caroline recounted the concert story to Christopher the next morning + his ruddy face turned quite pale. He opened his lips as if to speak, then + closed them again. They were sitting in the kitchen; Caroline had run over + to return some tea she had borrowed, and, incidentally, to see what she + could of Victoria's housekeeping in her absence. Her eyes had been busy + while her tongue ran on, so she did not notice the man's pallor and + silence. + </p> + <p> + "How long does it take for smallpox to develop after one has been exposed + to it?" he asked abruptly, when Caroline rose to go. + </p> + <p> + "Ten to fourteen days, I calc'late," was her answer. "I must see about + having the girls vaccinated right off. It'll likely spread. When do you + expect Victoria home?" + </p> + <p> + "When she's ready to come, whenever that will be," was the gruff response. + </p> + <p> + A week later Caroline said to Eunice, "Whatever's got Christopher? He + hasn't been out anywhere for ages—just hangs round home the whole + time. It's something new for him. I s'pose the place is so quiet, now + Madam Victoria's away, that he can find some rest for his soul. I believe + I'll run over after milking and see how he's getting on. You might as well + come, too, Eunice." + </p> + <p> + Eunice shook her head. She had all her mother's obstinacy, and darken + Victoria's door she would not. She went on patiently darning socks, + sitting at the west window, which was her favorite position—perhaps + because she could look from it across the sloping field and past the + crescent curve of maple grove to her lost home. + </p> + <p> + After milking, Caroline threw a shawl over her head and ran across the + field. The house looked lonely and deserted. As she fumbled at the latch + of the gate the kitchen door opened, and Christopher Holland appeared on + the threshold. + </p> + <p> + "Don't come any farther," he called. + </p> + <p> + Caroline fell back in blank astonishment. Was this some more of Victoria's + work? + </p> + <p> + "I ain't an agent for the smallpox," she called back viciously. + </p> + <p> + Christopher did not heed her. + </p> + <p> + "Will you go home and ask uncle if he'll go, or send for Doctor Spencer? + He's the smallpox doctor. I'm sick." + </p> + <p> + Caroline felt a thrill of dismay and fear. She faltered a few steps + backward. + </p> + <p> + "Sick? What's the matter with you?" + </p> + <p> + "I was in Charlottetown that night, and went to the concert. That sailor + sat right beside me. I thought at the time he looked sick. It was just + twelve days ago. I've felt bad all day yesterday and to-day. Send for the + doctor. Don't come near the house, or let any one else come near." + </p> + <p> + He went in and shut the door. Caroline stood for a few moments in an + almost ludicrous panic. Then she turned and ran, as if for her life, + across the field. Eunice saw her coming and met her at the door. + </p> + <p> + "Mercy on us!" gasped Caroline. "Christopher's sick and he thinks he's got + the smallpox. Where's Charles?" + </p> + <p> + Eunice tottered back against the door. Her hand went up to her side in a + way that had been getting very common with her of late. Even in the midst + of her excitement Caroline noticed it. + </p> + <p> + "Eunice, what makes you do that every time anything startles you?" she + asked sharply. "Is it anything about your heart?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't—know. A little pain—it's gone now. Did you say that + Christopher has—the smallpox?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, he says so himself, and it's more than likely, considering the + circumstances. I declare, I never got such a turn in my life. It's a + dreadful thing. I must find Charles at once—there'll be a hundred + things to do." + </p> + <p> + Eunice hardly heard her. Her mind was centered upon one idea. Christopher + was ill—alone—she must go to him. It did not matter what his + disease was. When Caroline came in from her breathless expedition to the + barn, she found Eunice standing by the table, with her hat and shawl on, + tying up a parcel. + </p> + <p> + "Eunice! Where on earth are you going?" + </p> + <p> + "Over home," said Eunice. "If Christopher is going to be ill he must be + nursed, and I'm the one to do it. He ought to be seen to right away." + </p> + <p> + "Eunice Carr! Have you gone clean out of your senses? It's the smallpox—the + smallpox! If he's got it he'll have to be taken to the smallpox hospital + in town. You shan't stir a step to go to that house!" + </p> + <p> + "I will." Eunice faced her excited aunt quietly. The odd resemblance to + her mother, which only came out in moments of great tension, was plainly + visible. "He shan't go to the hospital—they never get proper + attention there. You needn't try to stop me. It won't put you or your + family in any danger." + </p> + <p> + Caroline fell helplessly into a chair. She felt that it would be of no use + to argue with a woman so determined. She wished Charles was there. But + Charles had already gone, post-haste, for the doctor. + </p> + <p> + With a firm step, Eunice went across the field foot-path she had not + trodden for so long. She felt no fear—rather a sort of elation. + Christopher needed her once more; the interloper who had come between them + was not there. As she walked through the frosty twilight she thought of + the promise made to Naomi Holland, years ago. + </p> + <p> + Christopher saw her coming and waved her back. + </p> + <p> + "Don't come any nearer, Eunice. Didn't Caroline tell you? I'm taking + smallpox." + </p> + <p> + Eunice did not pause. She went boldly through the yard and up the porch + steps. He retreated before her and held the door. + </p> + <p> + "Eunice, you're crazy, girl! Go home, before it's too late." + </p> + <p> + Eunice pushed open the door resolutely and went in. + </p> + <p> + "It's too late now. I'm here, and I mean to stay and nurse you, if it's + the smallpox you've got. Maybe it's not. Just now, when a person has a + finger-ache, he thinks it's smallpox. Anyhow, whatever it is, you ought to + be in bed and looked after. You'll catch cold. Let me get a light and have + a look at you." + </p> + <p> + Christopher had sunk into a chair. His natural selfishness reasserted + itself, and he made no further effort to dissuade Eunice. She got a lamp + and set it on the table by him, while she scrutinized his face closely. + </p> + <p> + "You look feverish. What do you feel like? When did you take sick?" + </p> + <p> + "Yesterday afternoon. I have chills and hot spells and pains in my back. + Eunice, do you think it's really smallpox? And will I die?" + </p> + <p> + He caught her hands, and looked imploringly up at her, as a child might + have done. Eunice felt a wave of love and tenderness sweep warmly over her + starved heart. + </p> + <p> + "Don't worry. Lots of people recover from smallpox if they're properly + nursed, and you'll be that, for I'll see to it. Charles has gone for the + doctor, and we'll know when he comes. You must go straight to bed." + </p> + <p> + She took off her hat and shawl, and hung them up. She felt as much at home + as if she had never been away. She had got back to her kingdom, and there + was none to dispute it with her. When Dr. Spencer and old Giles Blewett, + who had had smallpox in his youth, came, two hours later, they found + Eunice in serene charge. The house was in order and reeking of + disinfectants. Victoria's fine furniture and fixings were being bundled + out of the parlor. There was no bedroom downstairs, and, if Christopher + was going to be ill, he must be installed there. + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked grave. + </p> + <p> + "I don't like it," he said, "but I'm not quite sure yet. If it is smallpox + the eruption will probably be out by morning. I must admit he has most of + the symptoms. Will you have him taken to the hospital?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Eunice, decisively. "I'll nurse him myself. I'm not afraid and + I'm well and strong." + </p> + <p> + "Very well. You've been vaccinated lately?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Well, nothing more can be done at present. You may as well lie down for a + while and save your strength." + </p> + <p> + But Eunice could not do that. There was too much to attend to. She went + out to the hall and threw up the window. Down below, at a safe distance, + Charles Holland was waiting. The cold wind blew up to Eunice the odor of + the disinfectants with which he had steeped himself. + </p> + <p> + "What does the doctor say?" he shouted. + </p> + <p> + "He thinks it's the smallpox. Have you sent word to Victoria?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Jim Blewett drove into town and told her. She'll stay with her + sister till it is over. Of course it's the best thing for her to do. She's + terribly frightened." + </p> + <p> + Eunice's lip curled contemptuously. To her, a wife who could desert her + husband, no matter what disease he had, was an incomprehensible creature. + But it was better so; she would have Christopher all to herself. + </p> + <p> + The night was long and wearisome, but the morning came all too soon for + the dread certainty it brought. The doctor pronounced the case smallpox. + Eunice had hoped against hope, but now, knowing the worst, she was very + calm and resolute. + </p> + <p> + By noon the fateful yellow flag was flying over the house, and all + arrangements had been made. Caroline was to do the necessary cooking, and + Charles was to bring the food and leave it in the yard. Old Giles Blewett + was to come every day and attend to the stock, as well as help Eunice with + the sick man; and the long, hard fight with death began. + </p> + <p> + It was a hard fight, indeed. Christopher Holland, in the clutches of the + loathsome disease, was an object from which his nearest and dearest might + have been pardoned for shrinking. But Eunice never faltered; she never + left her post. Sometimes she dozed in a chair by the bed, but she never + lay down. Her endurance was something wonderful, her patience and + tenderness almost superhuman. To and fro she went, in noiseless ministry, + as the long, dreadful days wore away, with a quiet smile on her lips, and + in her dark, sorrowful eyes the rapt look of a pictured saint in some dim + cathedral niche. For her there was no world outside the bare room where + lay the repulsive object she loved. + </p> + <p> + One day the doctor looked very grave. He had grown well-hardened to + pitiful scenes in his life-time; but he shrunk from telling Eunice that + her brother could not live. He had never seen such devotion as hers. It + seemed brutal to tell her that it had been in vain. + </p> + <p> + But Eunice had seen it for herself. She took it very calmly, the doctor + thought. And she had her reward at last—such as it was. She thought + it amply sufficient. + </p> + <p> + One night Christopher Holland opened his swollen eyes as she bent over + him. They were alone in the old house. It was raining outside, and the + drops rattled noisily on the panes. + </p> + <p> + Christopher smiled at his sister with parched lips, and put out a feeble + hand toward her. + </p> + <p> + "Eunice," he said faintly, "you've been the best sister ever a man had. I + haven't treated you right; but you've stood by me to the last. Tell + Victoria—tell her—to be good to you—" + </p> + <p> + His voice died away into an inarticulate murmur. Eunice Carr was alone + with her dead. + </p> + <p> + They buried Christopher Holland in haste and privacy the next day. The + doctor disinfected the house, and Eunice was to stay there alone until it + might be safe to make other arrangements. She had not shed a tear; the + doctor thought she was a rather odd person, but he had a great admiration + for her. He told her she was the best nurse he had ever seen. To Eunice, + praise or blame mattered nothing. Something in her life had snapped—some + vital interest had departed. She wondered how she could live through the + dreary, coming years. + </p> + <p> + Late that night she went into the room where her mother and brother had + died. The window was open and the cold, pure air was grateful to her after + the drug-laden atmosphere she had breathed so long. She knelt down by the + stripped bed. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," she said aloud, "I have kept my promise." + </p> + <p> + When she tried to rise, long after, she staggered and fell across the bed, + with her hand pressed on her heart. Old Giles Blewett found her there in + the morning. There was a smile on her face. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE CONSCIENCE CASE OF DAVID BELL + </h2> + <p> + Eben Bell came in with an armful of wood and banged it cheerfully down in + the box behind the glowing Waterloo stove, which was coloring the heart of + the little kitchen's gloom with tremulous, rose-red whirls of light. + </p> + <p> + "There, sis, that's the last chore on my list. Bob's milking. Nothing more + for me to do but put on my white collar for meeting. Avonlea is more than + lively since the evangelist came, ain't it, though!" + </p> + <p> + Mollie Bell nodded. She was curling her hair before the tiny mirror that + hung on the whitewashed wall and distorted her round, pink-and-white face + into a grotesque caricature. + </p> + <p> + "Wonder who'll stand up to-night," said Eben reflectively, sitting down on + the edge of the wood-box. "There ain't many sinners left in Avonlea—only + a few hardened chaps like myself." + </p> + <p> + "You shouldn't talk like that," said Mollie rebukingly. "What if father + heard you?" + </p> + <p> + "Father wouldn't hear me if I shouted it in his ear," returned Eben. "He + goes around, these days, like a man in a dream and a mighty bad dream at + that. Father has always been a good man. What's the matter with him?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," said Mollie, dropping her voice. "Mother is dreadfully + worried over him. And everybody is talking, Eb. It just makes me squirm. + Flora Jane Fletcher asked me last night why father never testified, and + him one of the elders. She said the minister was perplexed about it. I + felt my face getting red." + </p> + <p> + "Why didn't you tell her it was no business of hers?" said Eben angrily. + "Old Flora Jane had better mind her own business." + </p> + <p> + "But all the folks are talking about it, Eb. And mother is fretting her + heart out over it. Father has never acted like himself since these + meetings began. He just goes there night after night, and sits like a + mummy, with his head down. And almost everybody else in Avonlea has + testified." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, there's lots haven't," said Eben. "Matthew Cuthbert never has, + nor Uncle Elisha, nor any of the Whites." + </p> + <p> + "But everybody knows they don't believe in getting up and testifying, so + nobody wonders when they don't. Besides," Mollie laughed—"Matthew + could never get a word out in public, if he did believe in it. He'd be too + shy. But," she added with a sigh, "it isn't that way with father. He + believes in testimony, so people wonder why he doesn't get up. Why, even + old Josiah Sloane gets up every night." + </p> + <p> + "With his whiskers sticking out every which way, and his hair ditto," + interjected the graceless Eben. + </p> + <p> + "When the minister calls for testimonials and all the folks look at our + pew, I feel ready to sink through the floor for shame," sighed Mollie. "If + father would get up just once!" + </p> + <p> + Miriam Bell entered the kitchen. She was ready for the meeting, to which + Major Spencer was to take her. She was a tall, pale girl, with a serious + face, and dark, thoughtful eyes, totally unlike Mollie. She had "come + under conviction" during the meetings, and had stood up for prayer and + testimony several times. The evangelist thought her very spiritual. She + heard Mollie's concluding sentence and spoke reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + "You shouldn't criticize your father, Mollie. It isn't for you to judge + him." + </p> + <p> + Eben had hastily slipped out. He was afraid Miriam would begin talking + religion to him if he stayed. He had with difficulty escaped from an + exhortation by Robert in the cow-stable. There was no peace in Avonlea for + the unregenerate, he reflected. Robert and Miriam had both "come out," and + Mollie was hovering on the brink. + </p> + <p> + "Dad and I are the black sheep of the family," he said, with a laugh, for + which he at once felt guilty. Eben had been brought up with a strict + reverence for all religious matters. On the surface he might sometimes + laugh at them, but the deeps troubled him whenever he did so. + </p> + <p> + Indoors, Miriam touched her younger sister's shoulder and looked at her + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + "Won't you decide to-night, Mollie?" she asked, in a voice tremulous with + emotion. + </p> + <p> + Mollie crimsoned and turned her face away uncomfortably. She did not know + what answer to make, and was glad that a jingle of bells outside saved her + the necessity of replying. + </p> + <p> + "There's your beau, Miriam," she said, as she darted into the sitting + room. + </p> + <p> + Soon after, Eben brought the family pung and his chubby red mare to the + door for Mollie. He had not as yet attained to the dignity of a cutter of + his own. That was for his elder brother, Robert, who presently came out in + his new fur coat and drove dashingly away with bells and glitter. + </p> + <p> + "Thinks he's the people," remarked Eben, with a fraternal grin. + </p> + <p> + The rich winter twilight was purpling over the white world as they drove + down the lane under the over-arching wild cherry trees that glittered with + gemmy hoar-frost. The snow creaked and crisped under the runners. A shrill + wind was keening in the leafless dogwoods. Over the trees the sky was a + dome of silver, with a lucent star or two on the slope of the west. + Earth-stars gleamed warmly out here and there, where homesteads were + tucked snugly away in their orchards or groves of birch. + </p> + <p> + "The church will be jammed to-night," said Eben. "It's so fine that folks + will come from near and far. Guess it'll be exciting." + </p> + <p> + "If only father would testify!" sighed Mollie, from the bottom of the + pung, where she was snuggled amid furs and straw. "Miriam can say what she + likes, but I do feel as if we were all disgraced. It sends a creep all + over me to hear Mr. Bentley say, 'Now, isn't there one more to say a word + for Jesus?' and look right over at father." + </p> + <p> + Eben flicked his mare with his whip, and she broke into a trot. The + silence was filled with a faint, fairy-like melody from afar down the road + where a pungful of young folks from White Sands were singing hymns on + their way to meeting. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, Mollie," said Eben awkwardly at last, "are you going to stand + up for prayers to-night?" + </p> + <p> + "I—I can't as long as father acts this way," answered Mollie, in a + choked voice. "I—I want to, Eb, and Mirry and Bob want me to, but I + can't. I do hope that the evangelist won't come and talk to me special + to-night. I always feels as if I was being pulled two different ways, when + he does." + </p> + <p> + Back in the kitchen at home Mrs. Bell was waiting for her husband to bring + the horse to the door. She was a slight, dark-eyed little woman, with + thin, vivid-red cheeks. From out of the swathings in which she had wrapped + her bonnet, her face gleamed sad and troubled. Now and then she sighed + heavily. + </p> + <p> + The cat came to her from under the stove, languidly stretching himself, + and yawning until all the red cavern of his mouth and throat was revealed. + At the moment he had an uncanny resemblance to Elder Joseph Blewett of + White Sands—Roaring Joe, the irreverent boys called him—when + he grew excited and shouted. Mrs. Bell saw it—and then reproached + herself for the sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + "But it's no wonder I've wicked thoughts," she said, wearily. "I'm that + worried I ain't rightly myself. If he would only tell me what the trouble + is, maybe I could help him. At any rate, I'd KNOW. It hurts me so to see + him going about, day after day, with his head hanging and that look on his + face, as if he had something fearful on his conscience—him that + never harmed a living soul. And then the way he groans and mutters in his + sleep! He has always lived a just, upright life. He hasn't no right to go + on like this, disgracing his family." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bell's angry sob was cut short by the sleigh at the door. Her husband + poked in his busy, iron-gray head and said, "Now, mother." He helped her + into the sleigh, tucked the rugs warmly around her, and put a hot brick at + her feet. His solicitude hurt her. It was all for her material comfort. It + did not matter to him what mental agony she might suffer over his strange + attitude. For the first time in their married life Mary Bell felt + resentment against her husband. + </p> + <p> + They drove along in silence, past the snow-powdered hedges of spruce, and + under the arches of the forest roadways. They were late, and a great + stillness was over all the land. David Bell never spoke. All his usual + cheerful talkativeness had disappeared since the revival meetings had + begun in Avonlea. From the first he had gone about as a man over whom some + strange doom is impending, seemingly oblivious to all that might be said + or thought of him in his own family or in the church. Mary Bell thought + she would go out of her mind if her husband continued to act in this way. + Her reflections were bitter and rebellious as they sped along through the + glittering night of the winter's prime. + </p> + <p> + "I don't get one bit of good out of the meetings," she thought + resentfully. "There ain't any peace or joy for me, not even in testifying + myself, when David sits there like a stick or stone. If he'd been opposed + to the revivalist coming here, like old Uncle Jerry, or if he didn't + believe in public testimony, I wouldn't mind. I'd understand. But, as it + is, I feel dreadful humiliated." + </p> + <p> + Revival meetings had never been held in Avonlea before. "Uncle" Jerry + MacPherson, who was the supreme local authority in church matters, taking + precedence of even the minister, had been uncompromisingly opposed to + them. He was a stern, deeply religious Scotchman, with a horror of the + emotional form of religion. As long as Uncle Jerry's spare, ascetic form + and deeply-graved square-jawed face filled his accustomed corner by the + northwest window of Avonlea church no revivalist might venture therein, + although the majority of the congregation, including the minister, would + have welcomed one warmly. + </p> + <p> + But now Uncle Jerry was sleeping peacefully under the tangled grasses and + white snows of the burying ground, and, if dead people ever do turn in + their graves, Uncle Jerry might well have turned in his when the + revivalist came to Avonlea church, and there followed the emotional + services, public testimonies, and religious excitement which the old man's + sturdy soul had always abhorred. + </p> + <p> + Avonlea was a good field for an evangelist. The Rev. Geoffrey Mountain, + who came to assist the Avonlea minister in revivifying the dry bones + thereof, knew this and reveled in the knowledge. It was not often that + such a virgin parish could be found nowadays, with scores of + impressionable, unspoiled souls on which fervid oratory could play + skillfully, as a master on a mighty organ, until every note in them + thrilled to life and utterance. The Rev. Geoffrey Mountain was a good man; + of the earth, earthy, to be sure, but with an unquestionable sincerity of + belief and purpose which went far to counterbalance the sensationalism of + some of his methods. + </p> + <p> + He was large and handsome, with a marvelously sweet and winning voice—a + voice that could melt into irresistible tenderness, or swell into sonorous + appeal and condemnation, or ring like a trumpet calling to battle. + </p> + <p> + His frequent grammatical errors, and lapses into vulgarity, counted for + nothing against its charm, and the most commonplace words in the world + would have borrowed much of the power of real oratory from its magic. He + knew its value and used it effectively—perhaps even ostentatiously. + </p> + <p> + Geoffrey Mountain's religion and methods, like the man himself, were + showy, but, of their kind, sincere, and, though the good he accomplished + might not be unmixed, it was a quantity to be reckoned with. + </p> + <p> + So the Rev. Geoffrey Mountain came to Avonlea, conquering and to conquer. + Night after night the church was crowded with eager listeners, who hung + breathlessly on his words and wept and thrilled and exulted as he willed. + Into many young souls his appeals and warnings burned their way, and each + night they rose for prayer in response to his invitation. Older + Christians, too, took on a new lease of intensity, and even the + unregenerate and the scoffers found a certain fascination in the meetings. + Threading through it all, for old and young, converted and unconverted, + was an unacknowledged feeling for religious dissipation. Avonlea was a + quiet place,—and the revival meetings were lively. + </p> + <p> + When David and Mary Bell reached the church the services had begun, and + they heard the refrain of a hallelujah hymn as they were crossing Harmon + Andrews' field. David Bell left his wife at the platform and drove to the + horse-shed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bell unwound the scarf from her bonnet and shook the frost crystals + from it. In the porch Flora Jane Fletcher and her sister, Mrs. Harmon + Andrews, were talking in low whispers. Presently Flora Jane put out her + lank, cashmere-gloved hand and plucked Mrs. Bell's shawl. + </p> + <p> + "Mary, is the elder going to testify to-night?" she asked, in a shrill + whisper. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bell winced. She would have given much to be able to answer "Yes," + but she had to say stiffly, + </p> + <p> + "I don't know." + </p> + <p> + Flora Jane lifted her chin. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mrs. Bell, I only asked because every one thinks it is strange he + doesn't—and an elder, of all people. It looks as if he didn't think + himself a Christian, you know. Of course, we all know better, but it LOOKS + that way. If I was you, I'd tell him folks was talking about it. Mr. + Bentley says it is hindering the full success of the meetings." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bell turned on her tormentor in swift anger. She might resent her + husband's strange behavior herself, but nobody else should dare to + criticize him to her. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think you need to worry yourself about the elder, Flora Jane," + she said bitingly. "Maybe 'tisn't the best Christians that do the most + talking about it always. I guess, as far as living up to his profession + goes, the elder will compare pretty favorably with Levi Boulter, who gets + up and testifies every night, and cheats the very eye-teeth out of people + in the daytime." + </p> + <p> + Levi Boulter was a middle-aged widower, with a large family, who was + supposed to have cast a matrimonial eye Flora Janeward. The use of his + name was an effective thrust on Mrs. Bell's part, and silenced Flora Jane. + Too angry for speech she seized her sister's arm and hurried her into + church. + </p> + <p> + But her victory could not remove from Mary Bell's soul the sting implanted + there by Flora Jane's words. When her husband came up to the platform she + put her hand on his snowy arm appealingly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, David, won't you get up to-night? I do feel so dreadful bad—folks + are talking so—I just feel humiliated." + </p> + <p> + David Bell hung his head like a shamed schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + "I can't, Mary," he said huskily. "'Tain't no use to pester me." + </p> + <p> + "You don't care for my feelings," said his wife bitterly. "And Mollie + won't come out because you're acting so. You're keeping her back from + salvation. And you're hindering the success of the revival—Mr. + Bentley says so." + </p> + <p> + David Bell groaned. This sign of suffering wrung his wife's heart. With + quick contrition she whispered, + </p> + <p> + "There, never mind, David. I oughtn't to have spoken to you so. You know + your duty best. Let's go in." + </p> + <p> + "Wait." His voice was imploring. + </p> + <p> + "Mary, is it true that Mollie won't come out because of me? Am I standing + in my child's light?" + </p> + <p> + "I—don't—know. I guess not. Mollie's just a foolish young girl + yet. Never mind—come in." + </p> + <p> + He followed her dejectedly in, and up the aisle to their pew in the center + of the church. The building was warm and crowded. The pastor was reading + the Bible lesson for the evening. In the choir, behind him, David Bell saw + Mollie's girlish face, tinged with a troubled seriousness. His own + wind-ruddy face and bushy gray eyebrows worked convulsively with his + inward throes. A sigh that was almost a groan burst from him. + </p> + <p> + "I'll have to do it," he said to himself in agony. + </p> + <p> + When several more hymns had been sung, and late arrivals began to pack the + aisles, the evangelist arose. His style for the evening was the tender, + the pleading, the solemn. He modulated his tones to marvelous sweetness, + and sent them thrillingly over the breathless pews, entangling the hearts + and souls of his listeners in a mesh of subtle emotion. Many of the women + began to cry softly. Fervent amens broke from some of the members. When + the evangelist sat down, after a closing appeal which, in its way, was a + masterpiece, an audible sigh of relieved tension passed like a wave over + the audience. + </p> + <p> + After prayer the pastor made the usual request that, if any of those + present wished to come out on the side of Christ, they would signify the + wish by rising for a moment in their places. After a brief interval, a + pale boy under the gallery rose, followed by an old man at the top of the + church. A frightened, sweet-faced child of twelve got tremblingly upon her + feet, and a dramatic thrill passed over the congregation when her mother + suddenly stood up beside her. The evangelist's "Thank God" was hearty and + insistent. + </p> + <p> + David Bell looked almost imploringly at Mollie; but she kept her seat, + with downcast eyes. Over in the big square "stone pew" he saw Eben bending + forward, with his elbows on his knees, gazing frowningly at the floor. + </p> + <p> + "I'm a stumbling block to them both," he thought bitterly. + </p> + <p> + A hymn was sung and prayer offered for those under conviction. Then + testimonies were called for. The evangelist asked for them in tones which + made it seem a personal request to every one in that building. + </p> + <p> + Many testimonies followed, each infused with the personality of the giver. + Most of them were brief and stereotyped. Finally a pause ensued. The + evangelist swept the pews with his kindling eyes and exclaimed, + appealingly, + </p> + <p> + "Has EVERY Christian in this church to-night spoken a word for his + Master?" + </p> + <p> + There were many who had not testified, but every eye in the building + followed the pastor's accusing glance to the Bell pew. Mollie crimsoned + with shame. Mrs. Bell cowered visibly. + </p> + <p> + Although everybody looked thus at David Bell, nobody now expected him to + testify. When he rose to his feet, a murmur of surprise passed over the + audience, followed by a silence so complete as to be terrible. To David + Bell it seemed to possess the awe of final judgment. + </p> + <p> + Twice he opened his lips, and tried vainly to speak. The third time he + succeeded; but his voice sounded strangely in his own ears. He gripped the + back of the pew before him with his knotty hands, and fixed his eyes + unseeingly on the Christian Endeavor pledge that hung over the heads of + the choir. + </p> + <p> + "Brethren and sisters," he said hoarsely, "before I can say a word of + Christian testimony here to-night I've got something to confess. It's been + lying hard and heavy on my conscience ever since these meetings begun. As + long as I kept silence about it I couldn't get up and bear witness for + Christ. Many of you have expected me to do it. Maybe I've been a stumbling + block to some of you. This season of revival has brought no blessing to me + because of my sin, which I repented of, but tried to conceal. There has + been a spiritual darkness over me. + </p> + <p> + "Friends and neighbors, I have always been held by you as an honest man. + It was the shame of having you know I was not which has kept me back from + open confession and testimony. Just afore these meetings commenced I come + home from town one night and found that somebody had passed a counterfeit + ten-dollar bill on me. Then Satan entered into me and possessed me. When + Mrs. Rachel Lynde come next day, collecting for foreign missions, I give + her that ten dollar bill. She never knowed the difference, and sent it + away with the rest. But I knew I'd done a mean and sinful thing. I + couldn't drive it out of my thoughts. A few days afterwards I went down to + Mrs. Rachel's and give her ten good dollars for the fund. I told her I had + come to the conclusion I ought to give more than ten dollars, out of my + abundance, to the Lord. That was a lie. Mrs. Lynde thought I was a + generous man, and I felt ashamed to look her in the face. But I'd done + what I could to right the wrong, and I thought it would be all right. But + it wasn't. I've never known a minute's peace of mind or conscience since. + I tried to cheat the Lord, and then tried to patch it up by doing + something that redounded to my worldly credit. When these meetings begun, + and everybody expected me to testify, I couldn't do it. It would have + seemed like blasphemy. And I couldn't endure the thought of telling what + I'd done, either. I argued it all out a thousand times that I hadn't done + any real harm after all, but it was no use. I've been so wrapped up in my + own brooding and misery that I didn't realize I was inflicting suffering + on those dear to me by my conduct, and, maybe, holding some of them back + from the paths of salvation. But my eyes have been opened to this + to-night, and the Lord has given me strength to confess my sin and glorify + His holy name." + </p> + <p> + The broken tones ceased, and David Bell sat down, wiping the great drops + of perspiration from his brow. To a man of his training, and cast of + thought, no ordeal could be more terrible than that through which he had + just passed. But underneath the turmoil of his emotion he felt a great + calm and peace, threaded with the exultation of a hard-won spiritual + victory. + </p> + <p> + Over the church was a solemn hush. The evangelist's "amen" was not spoken + with his usual unctuous fervor, but very gently and reverently. In spite + of his coarse fiber, he could appreciate the nobility behind such a + confession as this, and the deeps of stern suffering it sounded. + </p> + <p> + Before the last prayer the pastor paused and looked around. + </p> + <p> + "Is there yet one," he asked gently, "who wishes to be especially + remembered in our concluding prayer?" + </p> + <p> + For a moment nobody moved. Then Mollie Bell stood up in the choir seat, + and, down by the stove, Eben, his flushed, boyish face held high, rose + sturdily to his feet in the midst of his companions. + </p> + <p> + "Thank God," whispered Mary Bell. + </p> + <p> + "Amen," said her husband huskily. + </p> + <p> + "Let us pray," said Mr. Bentley. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. ONLY A COMMON FELLOW + </h2> + <p> + On my dearie's wedding morning I wakened early and went to her room. Long + and long ago she had made me promise that I would be the one to wake her + on the morning of her wedding day. + </p> + <p> + "You were the first to take me in your arms when I came into the world, + Aunt Rachel," she had said, "and I want you to be the first to greet me on + that wonderful day." + </p> + <p> + But that was long ago, and now my heart foreboded that there would be no + need of wakening her. And there was not. She was lying there awake, very + quiet, with her hand under her cheek, and her big blue eyes fixed on the + window, through which a pale, dull light was creeping in—a joyless + light it was, and enough to make a body shiver. I felt more like weeping + than rejoicing, and my heart took to aching when I saw her there so white + and patient, more like a girl who was waiting for a winding-sheet than for + a bridal veil. But she smiled brave-like, when I sat down on her bed and + took her hand. + </p> + <p> + "You look as if you haven't slept all night, dearie," I said. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't—not a great deal," she answered me. "But the night didn't + seem long; no, it seemed too short. I was thinking of a great many things. + What time is it, Aunt Rachel?" + </p> + <p> + "Five o'clock." + </p> + <p> + "Then in six hours more—" + </p> + <p> + She suddenly sat up in her bed, her great, thick rope of brown hair + falling over her white shoulders, and flung her arms about me, and burst + into tears on my old breast. I petted and soothed her, and said not a + word; and, after a while, she stopped crying; but she still sat with her + head so that I couldn't see her face. + </p> + <p> + "We didn't think it would be like this once, did we, Aunt Rachel?" she + said, very softly. + </p> + <p> + "It shouldn't be like this, now," I said. I had to say it. I never could + hide the thought of that marriage, and I couldn't pretend to. It was all + her stepmother's doings—right well I knew that. My dearie would + never have taken Mark Foster else. + </p> + <p> + "Don't let us talk of that," she said, soft and beseeching, just the same + way she used to speak when she was a baby-child and wanted to coax me into + something. "Let us talk about the old days—and HIM." + </p> + <p> + "I don't see much use in talking of HIM, when you're going to marry Mark + Foster to-day," I said. + </p> + <p> + But she put her hand on my mouth. + </p> + <p> + "It's for the last time, Aunt Rachel. After to-day I can never talk of + him, or even think of him. It's four years since he went away. Do you + remember how he looked, Aunt Rachel?" + </p> + <p> + "I mind well enough, I reckon," I said, kind of curt-like. And I did. Owen + Blair hadn't a face a body could forget—that long face of his with + its clean color and its eyes made to look love into a woman's. When I + thought of Mark Foster's sallow skin and lank jaws I felt sick-like. Not + that Mark was ugly—he was just a common-looking fellow. + </p> + <p> + "He was so handsome, wasn't he, Aunt Rachel?" my dearie went on, in that + patient voice of hers. "So tall and strong and handsome. I wish we hadn't + parted in anger. It was so foolish of us to quarrel. But it would have + been all right if he had lived to come back. I know it would have been all + right. I know he didn't carry any bitterness against me to his death. I + thought once, Aunt Rachel, that I would go through life true to him, and + then, over on the other side, I'd meet him just as before, all his and his + only. But it isn't to be." + </p> + <p> + "Thanks to your stepma's wheedling and Mark Foster's scheming," said I. + </p> + <p> + "No, Mark didn't scheme," she said patiently. "Don't be unjust to Mark, + Aunt Rachel. He has been very good and kind." + </p> + <p> + "He's as stupid as an owlet and as stubborn as Solomon's mule," I said, + for I WOULD say it. "He's just a common fellow, and yet he thinks he's + good enough for my beauty." + </p> + <p> + "Don't talk about Mark," she pleaded again. "I mean to be a good, faithful + wife to him. But I'm my own woman yet—YET—for just a few more + sweet hours, and I want to give them to HIM. The last hours of my + maidenhood—they must belong to HIM." + </p> + <p> + So she talked of him, me sitting there and holding her, with her lovely + hair hanging down over my arm, and my heart aching so for her that it hurt + bitter. She didn't feel as bad as I did, because she'd made up her mind + what to do and was resigned. She was going to marry Mark Foster, but her + heart was in France, in that grave nobody knew of, where the Huns had + buried Owen Blair—if they had buried him at all. And she went over + all they had been to each other, since they were mites of babies, going to + school together and meaning, even then, to be married when they grew up; + and the first words of love he'd said to her, and what she'd dreamed and + hoped for. The only thing she didn't bring up was the time he thrashed + Mark Foster for bringing her apples. She never mentioned Mark's name; it + was all Owen—Owen—and how he looked, and what might have been, + if he hadn't gone off to the awful war and got shot. And there was me, + holding her and listening to it all, and her stepma sleeping sound and + triumphant in the next room. + </p> + <p> + When she had talked it all out she lay down on her pillow again. I got up + and went downstairs to light the fire. I felt terrible old and tired. My + feet seemed to drag, and the tears kept coming to my eyes, though I tried + to keep them away, for well I knew it was a bad omen to be weeping on a + wedding day. + </p> + <p> + Before long Isabella Clark came down; bright and pleased-looking enough, + SHE was. I'd never liked Isabella, from the day Phillippa's father brought + her here; and I liked her less than ever this morning. She was one of your + sly, deep women, always smiling smooth, and scheming underneath it. I'll + say it for her, though, she had been good to Phillippa; but it was her + doings that my dearie was to marry Mark Foster that day. + </p> + <p> + "Up betimes, Rachel," she said, smiling and speaking me fair, as she + always did, and hating me in her heart, as I well knew. "That is right, + for we'll have plenty to do to-day. A wedding makes lots of work." + </p> + <p> + "Not this sort of a wedding," I said, sour-like. "I don't call it a + wedding when two people get married and sneak off as if they were ashamed + of it—as well they might be in this case." + </p> + <p> + "It was Phillippa's own wish that all should be very quiet," said + Isabella, as smooth as cream. "You know I'd have given her a big wedding, + if she'd wanted it." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's better quiet," I said. "The fewer to see Phillippa marry a man + like Mark Foster the better." + </p> + <p> + "Mark Foster is a good man, Rachel." + </p> + <p> + "No good man would be content to buy a girl as he's bought Phillippa," I + said, determined to give it in to her. "He's a common fellow, not fit for + my dearie to wipe her feet on. It's well that her mother didn't live to + see this day; but this day would never have come, if she'd lived." + </p> + <p> + "I dare say Phillippa's mother would have remembered that Mark Foster is + very well off, quite as readily as worse people," said Isabella, a little + spitefully. + </p> + <p> + I liked her better when she was spiteful than when she was smooth. I + didn't feel so scared of her then. + </p> + <p> + The marriage was to be at eleven o'clock, and, at nine, I went up to help + Phillippa dress. She was no fussy bride, caring much what she looked like. + If Owen had been the bridegroom it would have been different. Nothing + would have pleased her then; but now it was only just "That will do very + well, Aunt Rachel," without even glancing at it. + </p> + <p> + Still, nothing could prevent her from looking lovely when she was dressed. + My dearie would have been a beauty in a beggarmaid's rags. In her white + dress and veil she was as fair as a queen. And she was as good as she was + pretty. It was the right sort of goodness, too, with just enough spice of + original sin in it to keep it from spoiling by reason of over-sweetness. + </p> + <p> + Then she sent me out. + </p> + <p> + "I want to be alone my last hour," she said. "Kiss me, Aunt Rachel—MOTHER + Rachel." + </p> + <p> + When I'd gone down, crying like the old fool I was, I heard a rap at the + door. My first thought was to go out and send Isabella to it, for I + supposed it was Mark Foster, come ahead of time, and small stomach I had + for seeing him. I fall trembling, even yet, when I think, "What if I had + sent Isabella to that door?" + </p> + <p> + But go I did, and opened it, defiant-like, kind of hoping it was Mark + Foster to see the tears on my face. I opened it—and staggered back + like I'd got a blow. + </p> + <p> + "Owen! Lord ha' mercy on us! Owen!" I said, just like that, going cold all + over, for it's the truth that I thought it was his spirit come back to + forbid that unholy marriage. + </p> + <p> + But he sprang right in, and caught my wrinkled old hands in a grasp that + was of flesh and blood. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Rachel, I'm not too late?" he said, savage-like. "Tell me I'm in + time." + </p> + <p> + I looked up at him, standing over me there, tall and handsome, no change + in him except he was so brown and had a little white scar on his forehead; + and, though I couldn't understand at all, being all bewildered-like, I + felt a great deep thankfulness. + </p> + <p> + "No, you're not too late," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Thank God," said he, under his breath. And then he pulled me into the + parlor and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + "They told me at the station that Phillippa was to be married to Mark + Foster to-day. I couldn't believe it, but I came here as fast as + horse-flesh could bring me. Aunt Rachel, it can't be true! She can't care + for Mark Foster, even if she had forgotten me!" + </p> + <p> + "It's true enough that she is to marry Mark," I said, half-laughing, + half-crying, "but she doesn't care for him. Every beat of her heart is for + you. It's all her stepma's doings. Mark has got a mortgage on the place, + and he told Isabella Clark that, if Phillippa would marry him, he'd burn + the mortgage, and, if she wouldn't, he'd foreclose. Phillippa is + sacrificing herself to save her stepma for her dead father's sake. It's + all your fault," I cried, getting over my bewilderment. "We thought you + were dead. Why didn't you come home when you were alive? Why didn't you + write?" + </p> + <p> + "I DID write, after I got out of the hospital, several times," he said, + "and never a word in answer, Aunt Rachel. What was I to think when + Phillippa wouldn't answer my letters?" + </p> + <p> + "She never got one," I cried. "She wept her sweet eyes out over you. + SOMEBODY must have got those letters." + </p> + <p> + And I knew then, and I know now, though never a shadow of proof have I, + that Isabella Clark had got them—and kept them. That woman would + stick at nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Well, we'll sift that matter some other time," said Owen impatiently. + "There are other things to think of now. I must see Phillippa." + </p> + <p> + "I'll manage it for you," I said eagerly; but, just as I spoke, the door + opened and Isabella and Mark came in. Never shall I forget the look on + Isabella's face. I almost felt sorry for her. She turned sickly yellow and + her eyes went wild; they were looking at the downfall of all her schemes + and hopes. I didn't look at Mark Foster, at first, and, when I did, there + wasn't anything to see. His face was just as sallow and wooden as ever; he + looked undersized and common beside Owen. Nobody'd ever have picked him + out for a bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + Owen spoke first. + </p> + <p> + "I want to see Phillippa," he said, as if it were but yesterday that he + had gone away. + </p> + <p> + All Isabella's smoothness and policy had dropped away from her, and the + real woman stood there, plotting and unscrupulous, as I'd always know her. + </p> + <p> + "You can't see her," she said desperate-like. "She doesn't want to see + you. You went and left her and never wrote, and she knew you weren't worth + fretting over, and she has learned to care for a better man." + </p> + <p> + "I DID write and I think you know that better than most folks," said Owen, + trying hard to speak quiet. "As for the rest, I'm not going to discuss it + with you. When I hear from Phillippa's own lips that she cares for another + man I'll believe it—and not before." + </p> + <p> + "You'll never hear it from her lips," said I. + </p> + <p> + Isabella gave me a venomous look. + </p> + <p> + "You'll not see Phillippa until she is a better man's wife," she said + stubbornly, "and I order you to leave my house, Owen Blair!" + </p> + <p> + "No!" + </p> + <p> + It was Mark Foster who spoke. He hadn't said a word; but he came forward + now, and stood before Owen. Such a difference as there was between them! + But he looked Owen right in the face, quiet-like, and Owen glared back in + fury. + </p> + <p> + "Will it satisfy you, Owen, if Phillippa comes down here and chooses + between us?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it will," said Owen. + </p> + <p> + Mark Foster turned to me. + </p> + <p> + "Go and bring her down," said he. + </p> + <p> + Isabella, judging Phillippa by herself, gave a little moan of despair, and + Owen, blinded by love and hope, thought his cause was won. But I knew my + dearie too well to be glad, and Mark Foster did, too, and I hated him for + it. + </p> + <p> + I went up to my dearie's room, all pale and shaking. When I went in she + came to meet me, like a girl going to meet death. + </p> + <p> + "Is—it—time?" she said, with her hands locked tight together. + </p> + <p> + I said not a word, hoping that the unlooked-for sight of Owen would break + down her resolution. I just held out my hand to her, and led her + downstairs. She clung to me and her hands were as cold as snow. When I + opened the parlor door I stood back, and pushed her in before me. + </p> + <p> + She just cried, "Owen!" and shook so that I put my arms about her to + steady her. + </p> + <p> + Owen made a step towards her, his face and eyes all aflame with his love + and longing, but Mark barred his way. + </p> + <p> + "Wait till she has made her choice," he said, and then he turned to + Phillippa. I couldn't see my dearie's face, but I could see Mark's, and + there wasn't a spark of feeling in it. Behind it was Isabella's, all + pinched and gray. + </p> + <p> + "Phillippa," said Mark, "Owen Blair has come back. He says he has never + forgotten you, and that he wrote to you several times. I have told him + that you have promised me, but I leave you freedom of choice. Which of us + will you marry, Phillippa?" + </p> + <p> + My dearie stood straight up and the trembling left her. She stepped back, + and I could see her face, white as the dead, but calm and resolved. + </p> + <p> + "I have promised to marry you, Mark, and I will keep my word," she said. + </p> + <p> + The color came back to Isabella Clark's face; but Mark's did not change. + </p> + <p> + "Phillippa," said Owen, and the pain in his voice made my old heart ache + bitterer than ever, "have you ceased to love me?" + </p> + <p> + My dearie would have been more than human, if she could have resisted the + pleading in his tone. She said no word, but just looked at him for a + moment. We all saw the look; her whole soul, full of love for Owen, showed + out in it. Then she turned and stood by Mark. + </p> + <p> + Owen never said a word. He went as white as death, and started for the + door. But again Mark Foster put himself in the way. + </p> + <p> + "Wait," he said. "She has made her choice, as I knew she would; but I have + yet to make mine. And I choose to marry no woman whose love belongs to + another living man. Phillippa, I thought Owen Blair was dead, and I + believed that, when you were my wife, I could win your love. But I love + you too well to make you miserable. Go to the man you love—you are + free!" + </p> + <p> + "And what is to become of me?" wailed Isabella. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you!—I had forgotten about you," said Mark, kind of weary-like. + He took a paper from his pocket, and dropped it in the grate. "There is + the mortgage. That is all you care about, I think. Good-morning." + </p> + <p> + He went out. He was only a common fellow, but, somehow, just then he + looked every inch the gentleman. I would have gone after him and said + something but—the look on his face—no, it was no time for my + foolish old words! + </p> + <p> + Phillippa was crying, with her head on Owen's shoulder. Isabella Clark + waited to see the mortgage burned up, and then she came to me in the hall, + all smooth and smiling again. + </p> + <p> + "Really, it's all very romantic, isn't it? I suppose it's better as it is, + all things considered. Mark behaved splendidly, didn't he? Not many men + would have done as he did." + </p> + <p> + For once in my life I agreed with Isabella. But I felt like having a good + cry over it all—and I had it. I was glad for my dearie's sake and + Owen's; but Mark Foster had paid the price of their joy, and I knew it had + beggared him of happiness for life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. TANNIS OF THE FLATS + </h2> + <p> + Few people in Avonlea could understand why Elinor Blair had never married. + She had been one of the most beautiful girls in our part of the Island + and, as a woman of fifty, she was still very attractive. In her youth she + had had ever so many beaux, as we of our generation well remembered; but, + after her return from visiting her brother Tom in the Canadian Northwest, + more than twenty-five years ago, she had seemed to withdraw within + herself, keeping all men at a safe, though friendly, distance. She had + been a gay, laughing girl when she went West; she came back quiet and + serious, with a shadowed look in her eyes which time could not quite + succeed in blotting out. + </p> + <p> + Elinor had never talked much about her visit, except to describe the + scenery and the life, which in that day was rough indeed. Not even to me, + who had grown up next door to her and who had always seemed more a sister + than a friend, did she speak of other than the merest commonplaces. But + when Tom Blair made a flying trip back home, some ten years later, there + were one or two of us to whom he related the story of Jerome Carey,—a + story revealing only too well the reason for Elinor's sad eyes and utter + indifference to masculine attentions. I can recall almost his exact words + and the inflections of his voice, and I remember, too, that it seemed to + me a far cry from the tranquil, pleasant scene before us, on that lovely + summer day, to the elemental life of the Flats. + </p> + <p> + The Flats was a forlorn little trading station fifteen miles up the river + from Prince Albert, with a scanty population of half-breeds and three + white men. When Jerome Carey was sent to take charge of the telegraph + office there, he cursed his fate in the picturesque language permissible + in the far Northwest. + </p> + <p> + Not that Carey was a profane man, even as men go in the West. He was an + English gentleman, and he kept both his life and his vocabulary pretty + clean. But—the Flats! + </p> + <p> + Outside of the ragged cluster of log shacks, which comprised the + settlement, there was always a shifting fringe of teepees where the + Indians, who drifted down from the Reservation, camped with their dogs and + squaws and papooses. There are standpoints from which Indians are + interesting, but they cannot be said to offer congenial social + attractions. For three weeks after Carey went to the Flats he was lonelier + than he had ever imagined it possible to be, even in the Great Lone Land. + If it had not been for teaching Paul Dumont the telegraphic code, Carey + believed he would have been driven to suicide in self-defense. + </p> + <p> + The telegraphic importance of the Flats consisted in the fact that it was + the starting point of three telegraph lines to remote trading posts up + North. Not many messages came therefrom, but the few that did come + generally amounted to something worth while. Days and even weeks would + pass without a single one being clicked to the Flats. Carey was debarred + from talking over the wires to the Prince Albert man for the reason that + they were on officially bad terms. He blamed the latter for his transfer + to the Flats. + </p> + <p> + Carey slept in a loft over the office, and got his meals at Joe Esquint's, + across the "street." Joe Esquint's wife was a good cook, as cooks go among + the breeds, and Carey soon became a great pet of hers. Carey had a habit + of becoming a pet with women. He had the "way" that has to be born in a + man and can never be acquired. Besides, he was as handsome as clean-cut + features, deep-set, dark-blue eyes, fair curls and six feet of muscle + could make him. Mrs. Joe Esquint thought that his mustache was the most + wonderfully beautiful thing, in its line, that she had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, Mrs. Joe was so old and fat and ugly that even the malicious + and inveterate gossip of skulking breeds and Indians, squatting over + teepee fires, could not hint at anything questionable in the relations + between her and Carey. But it was a different matter with Tannis Dumont. + </p> + <p> + Tannis came home from the academy at Prince Albert early in July, when + Carey had been at the Flats a month and had exhausted all the few + novelties of his position. Paul Dumont had already become so expert at the + code that his mistakes no longer afforded Carey any fun, and the latter + was getting desperate. He had serious intentions of throwing up the + business altogether, and betaking himself to an Alberta ranch, where at + least one would have the excitement of roping horses. When he saw Tannis + Dumont he thought he would hang on awhile longer, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Tannis was the daughter of old Auguste Dumont, who kept the one small + store at the Flats, lived in the one frame house that the place boasted, + and was reputed to be worth an amount of money which, in half-breed eyes, + was a colossal fortune. Old Auguste was black and ugly and notoriously + bad-tempered. But Tannis was a beauty. + </p> + <p> + Tannis' great-grandmother had been a Cree squaw who married a French + trapper. The son of this union became in due time the father of Auguste + Dumont. Auguste married a woman whose mother was a French half-breed and + whose father was a pure-bred Highland Scotchman. The result of this + atrocious mixture was its justification—Tannis of the Flats—who + looked as if all the blood of all the Howards might be running in her + veins. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, the dominant current in those same veins was from the race + of plain and prairie. The practiced eye detected it in the slender + stateliness of carriage, in the graceful, yet voluptuous, curves of the + lithe body, in the smallness and delicacy of hand and foot, in the purple + sheen on straight-falling masses of blue-black hair, and, more than all + else, in the long, dark eye, full and soft, yet alight with a slumbering + fire. France, too, was responsible for somewhat in Tannis. It gave her a + light step in place of the stealthy half-breed shuffle, it arched her red + upper lip into a more tremulous bow, it lent a note of laughter to her + voice and a sprightlier wit to her tongue. As for her red-headed Scotch + grandfather, he had bequeathed her a somewhat whiter skin and ruddier + bloom than is usually found in the breeds. + </p> + <p> + Old Auguste was mightily proud of Tannis. He sent her to school for four + years in Prince Albert, bound that his girl should have the best. A High + School course and considerable mingling in the social life of the town—for + old Auguste was a man to be conciliated by astute politicians, since he + controlled some two or three hundred half-breed votes—sent Tannis + home to the Flats with a very thin, but very deceptive, veneer of culture + and civilization overlying the primitive passions and ideas of her nature. + </p> + <p> + Carey saw only the beauty and the veneer. He made the mistake of thinking + that Tannis was what she seemed to be—a fairly well-educated, + up-to-date young woman with whom a friendly flirtation was just what it + was with white womankind—the pleasant amusement of an hour or + season. It was a mistake—a very big mistake. Tannis understood + something of piano playing, something less of grammar and Latin, and + something less still of social prevarications. But she understood + absolutely nothing of flirtation. You can never get an Indian to see the + sense of Platonics. + </p> + <p> + Carey found the Flats quite tolerable after the homecoming of Tannis. He + soon fell into the habit of dropping into the Dumont house to spend the + evening, talking with Tannis in the parlor—which apartment was + amazingly well done for a place like the Flats—Tannis had not + studied Prince Albert parlors four years for nothing—or playing + violin and piano duets with her. When music and conversation palled, they + went for long gallops over the prairies together. Tannis rode to + perfection, and managed her bad-tempered brute of a pony with a skill and + grace that made Carey applaud her. She was glorious on horseback. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he grew tired of the prairies and then he and Tannis paddled + themselves over the river in Nitchie Joe's dug-out, and landed on the old + trail that struck straight into the wooded belt of the Saskatchewan + valley, leading north to trading posts on the frontier of civilization. + There they rambled under huge pines, hoary with the age of centuries, and + Carey talked to Tannis about England and quoted poetry to her. Tannis + liked poetry; she had studied it at school, and understood it fairly well. + But once she told Carey that she thought it a long, round-about way of + saying what you could say just as well in about a dozen plain words. Carey + laughed. He liked to evoke those little speeches of hers. They sounded + very clever, dropping from such arched, ripely-tinted lips. + </p> + <p> + If you had told Carey that he was playing with fire he would have laughed + at you. In the first place he was not in the slightest degree in love with + Tannis—he merely admired and liked her. In the second place, it + never occurred to him that Tannis might be in love with him. Why, he had + never attempted any love-making with her! And, above all, he was obsessed + with that aforesaid fatal idea that Tannis was like the women he had + associated with all his life, in reality as well as in appearance. He did + not know enough of the racial characteristics to understand. + </p> + <p> + But, if Carey thought his relationship with Tannis was that of friendship + merely, he was the only one at the Flats who did think so. All the + half-breeds and quarter-breeds and any-fractional breeds there believed + that he meant to marry Tannis. There would have been nothing surprising to + them in that. They did not know that Carey's second cousin was a baronet, + and they would not have understood that it need make any difference, if + they had. They thought that rich old Auguste's heiress, who had been to + school for four years in Prince Albert, was a catch for anybody. + </p> + <p> + Old Auguste himself shrugged his shoulders over it and was well-pleased + enough. An Englishman was a prize by way of a husband for a half-breed + girl, even if he were only a telegraph operator. Young Paul Dumont + worshipped Carey, and the half-Scotch mother, who might have understood, + was dead. In all the Flats there were but two people who disapproved of + the match they thought an assured thing. One of these was the little + priest, Father Gabriel. He liked Tannis, and he liked Carey; but he shook + his head dubiously when he heard the gossip of the shacks and teepees. + Religions might mingle, but the different bloods—ah, it was not the + right thing! Tannis was a good girl, and a beautiful one; but she was no + fit mate for the fair, thorough-bred Englishman. Father Gabriel wished + fervently that Jerome Carey might soon be transferred elsewhere. He even + went to Prince Albert and did a little wire-pulling on his own account, + but nothing came of it. He was on the wrong side of politics. + </p> + <p> + The other malcontent was Lazarre Mérimée, a lazy, besotted French + half-breed, who was, after his fashion, in love with Tannis. He could + never have got her, and he knew it—old Auguste and young Paul would + have incontinently riddled him with bullets had he ventured near the house + as a suitor,—but he hated Carey none the less, and watched for a + chance to do him an ill-turn. There is no worse enemy in all the world + than a half-breed. Your true Indian is bad enough, but his diluted + descendant is ten times worse. + </p> + <p> + As for Tannis, she loved Carey with all her heart, and that was all there + was about it. + </p> + <p> + If Elinor Blair had never gone to Prince Albert there is no knowing what + might have happened, after all. Carey, so powerful in propinquity, might + even have ended by learning to love Tannis and marrying her, to his own + worldly undoing. But Elinor did go to Prince Albert, and her going ended + all things for Tannis of the Flats. + </p> + <p> + Carey met her one evening in September, when he had ridden into town to + attend a dance, leaving Paul Dumont in charge of the telegraph office. + Elinor had just arrived in Prince Albert on a visit to Tom, to which she + had been looking forward during the five years since he had married and + moved out West from Avonlea. As I have already said, she was very + beautiful at that time, and Carey fell in love with her at the first + moment of their meeting. + </p> + <p> + During the next three weeks he went to town nine times and called at the + Dumonts' only once. There were no more rides and walks with Tannis. This + was not intentional neglect on his part. He had simply forgotten all about + her. The breeds surmised a lover's quarrel, but Tannis understood. There + was another woman back there in town. + </p> + <p> + It would be quite impossible to put on paper any adequate idea of her + emotions at this stage. One night, she followed Carey when he went to + Prince Albert, riding out of earshot, behind him on her plains pony, but + keeping him in sight. Lazarre, in a fit of jealousy, had followed Tannis, + spying on her until she started back to the Flats. After that he watched + both Carey and Tannis incessantly, and months later had told Tom all he + had learned through his low sneaking. + </p> + <p> + Tannis trailed Carey to the Blair house, on the bluffs above the town, and + saw him tie his horse at the gate and enter. She, too, tied her pony to a + poplar, lower down, and then crept stealthily through the willows at the + side of the house until she was close to the windows. Through one of them + she could see Carey and Elinor. The half-breed girl crouched down in the + shadow and glared at her rival. She saw the pretty, fair-tinted face, the + fluffy coronal of golden hair, the blue, laughing eyes of the woman whom + Jerome Carey loved, and she realized very plainly that there was nothing + left to hope for. She, Tannis of the Flats, could never compete with that + other. It was well to know so much, at least. + </p> + <p> + After a time, she crept softly away, loosed her pony, and lashed him + mercilessly with her whip through the streets of the town and out the + long, dusty river trail. A man turned and looked after her as she tore + past a brightly lighted store on Water Street. + </p> + <p> + "That was Tannis of the Flats," he said to a companion. "She was in town + last winter, going to school—a beauty and a bit of the devil, like + all those breed girls. What in thunder is she riding like that for?" + </p> + <p> + One day, a fortnight later, Carey went over the river alone for a ramble + up the northern trail, and an undisturbed dream of Elinor. When he came + back Tannis was standing at the canoe landing, under a pine tree, in a + rain of finely sifted sunlight. She was waiting for him and she said, + without any preface: + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Carey, why do you never come to see me, now?" + </p> + <p> + Carey flushed like any girl. Her tone and look made him feel very + uncomfortable. He remembered, self-reproachfully, that he must have seemed + very neglectful, and he stammered something about having been busy. + </p> + <p> + "Not very busy," said Tannis, with her terrible directness. "It is not + that. It is because you are going to Prince Albert to see a white woman!" + </p> + <p> + Even in his embarrassment Carey noted that this was the first time he had + ever heard Tannis use the expression, "a white woman," or any other that + would indicate her sense of a difference between herself and the dominant + race. He understood, at the same moment, that this girl was not to be + trifled with—that she would have the truth out of him, first or + last. But he felt indescribably foolish. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose so," he answered lamely. + </p> + <p> + "And what about me?" asked Tannis. + </p> + <p> + When you come to think of it, this was an embarrassing question, + especially for Carey, who had believed that Tannis understood the game, + and played it for its own sake, as he did. + </p> + <p> + "I don't understand you, Tannis," he said hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + "You have made me love you," said Tannis. + </p> + <p> + The words sound flat enough on paper. They did not sound flat to Tom, as + repeated by Lazarre, and they sounded anything but flat to Carey, hurled + at him as they were by a woman trembling with all the passions of her + savage ancestry. Tannis had justified her criticism of poetry. She had + said her half-dozen words, instinct with all the despair and pain and wild + appeal that all the poetry in the world had ever expressed. + </p> + <p> + They made Carey feel like a scoundrel. All at once he realized how + impossible it would be to explain matters to Tannis, and that he would + make a still bigger fool of himself, if he tried. + </p> + <p> + "I am very sorry," he stammered, like a whipped schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + "It is no matter," interrupted Tannis violently. "What difference does it + make about me—a half-breed girl? We breed girls are only born to + amuse the white men. That is so—is it not? Then, when they are tired + of us, they push us aside and go back to their own kind. Oh, it is very + well. But I will not forget—my father and brother will not forget. + They will make you sorry to some purpose!" + </p> + <p> + She turned, and stalked away to her canoe. He waited under the pines until + she crossed the river; then he, too, went miserably home. What a mess he + had contrived to make of things! Poor Tannis! How handsome she had looked + in her fury—and how much like a squaw! The racial marks always come + out plainly under the stress of emotion, as Tom noted later. + </p> + <p> + Her threat did not disturb him. If young Paul and old Auguste made things + unpleasant for him, he thought himself more than a match for them. It was + the thought of the suffering he had brought upon Tannis that worried him. + He had not, to be sure, been a villain; but he had been a fool, and that + is almost as bad, under some circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The Dumonts, however, did not trouble him. After all, Tannis' four years + in Prince Albert had not been altogether wasted. She knew that white girls + did not mix their male relatives up in a vendetta when a man ceased + calling on them—and she had nothing else to complain of that could + be put in words. After some reflection she concluded to hold her tongue. + She even laughed when old Auguste asked her what was up between her and + her fellow, and said she had grown tired of him. Old Auguste shrugged his + shoulders resignedly. It was just as well, maybe. Those English + sons-in-law sometimes gave themselves too many airs. + </p> + <p> + So Carey rode often to town and Tannis bided her time, and plotted futile + schemes of revenge, and Lazarre Mérimée scowled and got drunk—and + life went on at the Flats as usual, until the last week in October, when a + big wind and rainstorm swept over the northland. + </p> + <p> + It was a bad night. The wires were down between the Flats and Prince + Albert and all communication with the outside world was cut off. Over at + Joe Esquint's the breeds were having a carouse in honor of Joe's birthday. + Paul Dumont had gone over, and Carey was alone in the office, smoking + lazily and dreaming of Elinor. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, above the plash of rain and whistle of wind, he heard outcries + in the street. Running to the door he was met by Mrs. Joe Esquint, who + grasped him breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + "Meestair Carey—come quick! Lazarre, he kill Paul—they fight!" + </p> + <p> + Carey, with a smothered oath, rushed across the street. He had been afraid + of something of the sort, and had advised Paul not to go, for those + half-breed carouses almost always ended in a free fight. He burst into the + kitchen at Joe Esquint's, to find a circle of mute spectators ranged + around the room and Paul and Lazarre in a clinch in the center. Carey was + relieved to find it was only an affair of fists. He promptly hurled + himself at the combatants and dragged Paul away, while Mrs. Joe Esquint—Joe + himself being dead-drunk in a corner—flung her fat arms about + Lazarre and held him back. + </p> + <p> + "Stop this," said Carey sternly. + </p> + <p> + "Let me get at him," foamed Paul. "He insulted my sister. He said that you—let + me get at him!" + </p> + <p> + He could not writhe free from Carey's iron grip. Lazarre, with a snarl + like a wolf, sent Mrs. Joe spinning, and rushed at Paul. Carey struck out + as best he could, and Lazarre went reeling back against the table. It went + over with a crash and the light went out! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joe's shrieks might have brought the roof down. In the confusion that + ensued, two pistol shots rang out sharply. There was a cry, a groan, a + fall—then a rush for the door. When Mrs. Joe Esquint's + sister-in-law, Marie, dashed in with another lamp, Mrs. Joe was still + shrieking, Paul Dumont was leaning sickly against the wall with a dangling + arm, and Carey lay face downward on the floor, with blood trickling from + under him. + </p> + <p> + Marie Esquint was a woman of nerve. She told Mrs. Joe to shut up, and she + turned Carey over. He was conscious, but seemed dazed and could not help + himself. Marie put a coat under his head, told Paul to lie down on the + bench, ordered Mrs. Joe to get a bed ready, and went for the doctor. It + happened that there was a doctor at the Flats that night—a Prince + Albert man who had been up at the Reservation, fixing up some sick + Indians, and had been stormstaid at old Auguste's on his way back. + </p> + <p> + Marie soon returned with the doctor, old Auguste, and Tannis. Carey was + carried in and laid on Mrs. Esquint's bed. The doctor made a brief + examination, while Mrs. Joe sat on the floor and howled at the top of her + lungs. Then he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "Shot in the back," he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + "How long?" asked Carey, understanding. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps till morning," answered the doctor. Mrs. Joe gave a louder howl + than ever at this, and Tannis came and stood by the bed. The doctor, + knowing that he could do nothing for Carey, hurried into the kitchen to + attend to Paul, who had a badly shattered arm, and Marie went with him. + </p> + <p> + Carey looked stupidly at Tannis. + </p> + <p> + "Send for her," he said. + </p> + <p> + Tannis smiled cruelly. + </p> + <p> + "There is no way. The wires are down, and there is no man at the Flats who + will go to town to-night," she answered. + </p> + <p> + "My God, I MUST see her before I die," burst out Carey pleadingly. "Where + is Father Gabriel? HE will go." + </p> + <p> + "The priest went to town last night and has not come back," said Tannis. + </p> + <p> + Carey groaned and shut his eyes. If Father Gabriel was away, there was + indeed no one to go. Old Auguste and the doctor could not leave Paul and + he knew well that no breed of them all at the Flats would turn out on such + a night, even if they were not, one and all, mortally scared of being + mixed up in the law and justice that would be sure to follow the affair. + He must die without seeing Elinor. + </p> + <p> + Tannis looked inscrutably down on the pale face on Mrs. Joe Esquint's + dirty pillows. Her immobile features gave no sign of the conflict raging + within her. After a short space she turned and went out, shutting the door + softly on the wounded man and Mrs. Joe, whose howls had now simmered down + to whines. In the next room, Paul was crying out with pain as the doctor + worked on his arm, but Tannis did not go to him. Instead, she slipped out + and hurried down the stormy street to old Auguste's stable. Five minutes + later she was galloping down the black, wind-lashed river trail, on her + way to town, to bring Elinor Blair to her lover's deathbed. + </p> + <p> + I hold that no woman ever did anything more unselfish than this deed of + Tannis! For the sake of love she put under her feet the jealousy and + hatred that had clamored at her heart. She held, not only revenge, but the + dearer joy of watching by Carey to the last, in the hollow of her hand, + and she cast both away that the man she loved might draw his dying breath + somewhat easier. In a white woman the deed would have been merely + commendable. In Tannis of the Flats, with her ancestry and tradition, it + was lofty self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + It was eight o'clock when Tannis left the Flats; it was ten when she drew + bridle before the house on the bluff. Elinor was regaling Tom and his wife + with Avonlea gossip when the maid came to the door. + </p> + <p> + "Pleas'm, there's a breed girl out on the verandah and she's asking for + Miss Blair." + </p> + <p> + Elinor went out wonderingly, followed by Tom. Tannis, whip in hand, stood + by the open door, with the stormy night behind her, and the warm ruby + light of the hall lamp showering over her white face and the long rope of + drenched hair that fell from her bare head. She looked wild enough. + </p> + <p> + "Jerome Carey was shot in a quarrel at Joe Esquint's to-night," she said. + "He is dying—he wants you—I have come for you." + </p> + <p> + Elinor gave a little cry, and steadied herself on Tom's shoulder. Tom said + he knew he made some exclamation of horror. He had never approved of + Carey's attentions to Elinor, but such news was enough to shock anybody. + He was determined, however, that Elinor should not go out in such a night + and to such a scene, and told Tannis so in no uncertain terms. + </p> + <p> + "I came through the storm," said Tannis, contemptuously. "Cannot she do as + much for him as I can?" + </p> + <p> + The good, old Island blood in Elinor's veins showed to some purpose. + "Yes," she answered firmly. "No, Tom, don't object—I must go. Get my + horse—and your own." + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later three riders galloped down the bluff road and took the + river trail. Fortunately the wind was at their backs and the worst of the + storm was over. Still, it was a wild, black ride enough. Tom rode, cursing + softly under his breath. He did not like the whole thing—Carey done + to death in some low half-breed shack, this handsome, sullen girl coming + as his messenger, this nightmare ride, through wind and rain. It all + savored too much of melodrama, even for the Northland, where people still + did things in a primitive way. He heartily wished Elinor had never left + Avonlea. + </p> + <p> + It was past twelve when they reached the Flats. Tannis was the only one + who seemed to be able to think coherently. It was she who told Tom where + to take the horses and then led Elinor to the room where Carey was dying. + The doctor was sitting by the bedside and Mrs. Joe was curled up in a + corner, sniffling to herself. Tannis took her by the shoulder and turned + her, none too gently, out of the room. The doctor, understanding, left at + once. As Tannis shut the door she saw Elinor sink on her knees by the bed, + and Carey's trembling hand go out to her head. + </p> + <p> + Tannis sat down on the floor outside of the door and wrapped herself up in + a shawl Marie Esquint had dropped. In that attitude she looked exactly + like a squaw, and all comers and goers, even old Auguste, who was hunting + for her, thought she was one, and left her undisturbed. She watched there + until dawn came whitely up over the prairies and Jerome Carey died. She + knew when it happened by Elinor's cry. + </p> + <p> + Tannis sprang up and rushed in. She was too late for even a parting look. + </p> + <p> + The girl took Carey's hand in hers, and turned to the weeping Elinor with + a cold dignity. + </p> + <p> + "Now go," she said. "You had him in life to the very last. He is mine + now." + </p> + <p> + "There must be some arrangements made," faltered Elinor. + </p> + <p> + "My father and brother will make all arrangements, as you call them," said + Tannis steadily. "He had no near relatives in the world—none at all + in Canada—he told me so. You may send out a Protestant minister from + town, if you like; but he will be buried here at the Flats and his grave + will be mine—all mine! Go!" + </p> + <p> + And Elinor, reluctant, sorrowful, yet swayed by a will and an emotion + stronger than her own, went slowly out, leaving Tannis of the Flats alone + with her dead. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Further Chronicles of Avonlea, by +Lucy Maud Montgomery + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA *** + +***** This file should be named 5340-h.htm or 5340-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5340/ + +Etext produced by Leslee Suttee, Mary Mark Ockerbloom, Ben Crowder + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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