CHAPTER XXVI
MRS. MUIR'S ACCOUNT
After a light supper Graydon went in search of Stella, but she wasnowhere to be found, nor had the warm evening lured Mrs. Wildmere fromher room. He had learned that Arnault was still at the house, and heinferred, from the surpassing beauty of the moonlit evening, that hisrival would not let such witching hours pass without an effort to turnthem to account. With a frown he retreated from the music, dancing,and gayety of a full house, and went up to Mrs. Muir's room.
That lady was found writing to her husband, but she welcomed Graydon,and began volubly: "I'm very glad you have come; I'm so full andoverflowing about Madge that I had to write to Henry."
"It certainly does seem an odd proceeding on her part--this remainingall night at a farmhouse among strangers," was his discontented reply.
"It would be odd in any one but Madge. I do not think thereare many girls in this house who would be guilty of sucheccentricities--certainly not Miss Wildmere," she added, with a rathermalicious twinkle in her eyes. "If I were a man, I wouldn't stand it.I've been on the alert somewhat to-day, for I don't wish to see youmade a fool of. That Mr. Arnault has been at her side the livelongtime, and he's out driving with her now."
"I understand all about that," said Graydon, impatiently; "tell meabout Madge."
"Perhaps you do, and perhaps you don't. It's certainly beyond mycomprehension," continued Mrs. Muir, determined to free her mind."If she is anything to you, or wishes to be, her performances areas unique as those of Madge, although in a different style. We Aldengirls were not brought up in that way. Pardon me; I know it's youraffair, but you are my brother, and have been a good one, too. I can'twonder that Henry dislikes her. Well, well, I see you are gettingnettled, and I won't say anything more, but tell you about Madge. Ithas been an awfully hot day, you know, and I did not order a carriagetill five. Madge was restless, and had sighed for a gallop morethan once, so I proposed to do the best for her I could. As we werestarting for our drive Dr. Sommers appeared, and I asked him to gowith us.
"'I will,' he said, 'if you will take me to see one of mypatients--one that will make Miss Alden contented till she has someimaginary trouble of her own. My horse is nearly used up from the longdrive I've had in the heat.'
"'Oh, do take me to see some one in trouble!' exclaimed Madge.
"'Yes,' replied the doctor, laughing, 'that will be a novelty. Tosee you young ladies dancing and promenading, one would think you hadnever heard of trouble.'
"After a lovely drive through a wild valley we came to a little grayfarmhouse, innocent of paint since the memory of man. The mountainrose steeply behind it with overhanging rocks, cropping out throughthe forest here and there. An orchard shaded the dwelling, and beyondthe narrow roadway in front brawled a trout-stream. To the eastwardwere rough, stony fields, that sloped up, at what seemed an angle offorty-five degrees, to other wooded mountains. It was the roughest,wildest-looking place I ever saw. How strange and lonely it must looknow in the moonlight, with not another dwelling in sight!"
"Too lonely for Madge to be there," exclaimed Graydon. "I don't likeit, and I should not have expected such imprudence from you, Mary."
"Oh, Madge is safe enough! Wait till you know all. Well, the farmerand his wife were at their early supper when we arrived. I went inwith Madge and the doctor, for I wanted to see how such people lived,and also thought I could do something for them. I hadn't been in theroom five minutes, however, before I gave up all thought of offeringassistance. The people were plainly and even poorly dressed. The manwas in his shirt-sleeves, but he put on his coat immediately. He had akind of natural, quiet dignity and a subdued manner--the result of histrouble, no doubt. We were in their little sitting-room or parlor, butthe door into the kitchen, where they had been taking their meal, wasopen. The room we were in was very plainly furnished, but perfectlyneat, and I was at once struck by the number of books that itcontained. Would you believe it? one of the leading magazines lay onthe table. The mother, a pale, gaunt woman, who looked utterlyworn out, went with the doctor to the adjoining sick-room, and thehusband's eyes followed them anxiously.
"'Your place seems rather lonely,' I said to him, 'but you evidentlyknow how to find society in books.'
"'Yes,' he answered, 'I s'pose this region seems lonesome to you, butnot to us who were brought up here. It all depends on what you'reused to, especially when you're a-growin' up. I'm not much of a readermyself, but Tilly was'; and he heaved a great sigh. 'She took toreadin' almost as soon as to walkin',' he continued, 'and used to readaloud to us. I s'pose I soon dozed off, but her mother took it all in,and durin' the long winter evenin's they kinder roamed all over theworld together. I suspicion Tilly had more books than was good forher, but she was our only child, and I couldn't say no to her. Sheedicated herself to be a teacher, and stood high, and we was proud ofher, sure enough, but I'm afeared all that study and readin' wasn'tgood for her;' and then came another of his deep sighs.
"Madge's great eyes meanwhile were more and more full of trouble,and there was a deal of pathos suggested by the man's simple story.Indeed, I felt my own throat swelling at the poor man's last sigh,it was so deep and natural, and seemed to express a great sorrow, forwhich there were no words in his homely vernacular."
"What selfish egotists we are over our picayune vexations!" Graydonmuttered.
"Well, the mother and the doctor now appeared. The latter lookedgrave; and when he looks grave things are serious indeed.
"'Ain't she no better?' the father asked, with entreaty in his tone.
"'I wish she was,' said the doctor, in his blunt way, whichnevertheless expressed more sympathy than a lot of fine phrases. Thenhe said to the mother: 'You're all worn out, and yet she'll need closewatching to-night. Isn't there some neighbor--'
"'Oh, please let me stay!' began Madge, in a low, eager tone, speakingfor the first time. 'I'm strong, and I'll follow your directions ineverything. Do, please. I've been ill myself, and think I know how tonurse.'
"The woman hesitated, and looked doubtfully, wonderingly, at thedoctor. Madge sprang up, and taking the mother's hand, continued:'Indeed, madam, you do look worn out; you will be ill yourself. Foryour daughter's sake, as well as mine, let me stay.'
"'For your sake, miss?'
"'Yes, for my sake. Why should I not bear a little of this heavyburden? It will do me good. Doctor, say I can stay. My strength shouldnot be wasted in amusement only.'
"'Well,' he replied, 'if Mrs. Muir consents, there's no one I'd trustsooner.'
"'Then it's settled, Mary,' she said, in her decisive way. 'It'sperfectly proper for me to stay under the protection of these goodpeople.'
"'But you haven't had your supper,' I began.
"A little color came into the woman's face at my foolish speech, andshe said, 'If the young lady will take what we can offer--'
"'Of course I will,' interrupted Madge, with a smile that would havepropitiated a dragon; 'a little bread and milk would suit me best.'
"'She shall have a chicken broiled as nice as she ever tasted at thehotel,' said the man, impulsively. 'Heaven bless your kind heart, andperhaps you can coax Tilly to take a bit!'
"'The young lady's name is Miss Alden,' said the doctor, 'and this isMrs. Muir, Mr. and Mrs. Wendall, ladies; I should have introduced youbefore, but my mind was on my patient. Well, well, well, what a worldit is! Some very good streaks run through it, though.'
"'I'll come for you in the morning,' I said to Madge, who had thrownoff her hat, looking so resolute and absorbed in her purpose that Iknew there was nothing more to be said. So I shook hands with the poorpeople, and came away with the doctor."
"I'm going for Madge in the morning," said Graydon, decisively.
"I thought you were going trouting with the doctor."
"Not till I've told Madge what I think of her," he said, gravely.
"I'm sure her impulse and motives were good."
"They were more than good--they were divine, and just like Madge Al
denas she now is. She keeps one's blood tingling with surprises; but I'venot become such a cynic that I do not understand her. When you come tothink of it, what is more natural than that one girl with her superbhealth should lend her strength to another who, perhaps, is dying; butyou may well ask, Who in the house would think of doing this?"
"Yes; the doctor said she was dying--that she couldn't last muchlonger."
"Well, I never had a sister, but I'm just as proud of Madge, and justas fond of her, as if she were my own flesh and blood. She shall neverlack what a brother can do for her while I live."
"I'm glad you feel so," said Mrs. Muir. Then she sighed, andthought, "A plague upon him! Why will he keep following up the otherwhite-faced thing, when he might win Madge if he tried hard enough.It's plain that she don't care for him now except as she used to. Andshe does care for him just as she did before she went away, in spiteof all her prudishness about the words brother and sister. I'm notblind. She has grown so pretty, however, that I suppose Graydon wouldwish to kiss her too often. She is just as fond of him as he is ofher, and in just the same way; but if I had his chance I'd soon haveit a different way;" and the good lady was complacency itself overher penetration, as she bade Graydon good-night. No one could see andreport the surface of affairs more accurately than she.
As he descended to the hall, Arnault and Miss Wildmere entered. Thelatter hastened forward and gave him her hand most cordially, saying,"Why, Mr. Muir, I'm ever so glad to see you; you have been away anage."
"A day, Miss Wildmere. Your appearance indicates that you havesurvived admirably."
"The moon is so bright that we could drive fast, and I'm always happywhen in rapid motion."
"You have had the advantage of me then; yet I've been in rapid motiona good part of the day on express trains."
"I feared you were not going to return to-day," she said, as shestrolled out with him on the piazza.
"Feared?"
"Yes, why not?"
"It strikes me that I might ask, Why?"
"Surely you would not have me lose such an evening as this, Mr. Muir?"she said, a little reproachfully.
"I would have you follow your own heart."
"I shall follow it as soon as possible," she replied, so earnestlythat he was disarmed--especially as the glance which accompanied thewords was full of soft allurement and appeal. Of her own accord sheput her hand on his arm, and spoke in low, contented tones, as if shehad at last found rest and refuge. The moon poured around her a floodof radiance, which gave her an ethereal aspect. Her white draperyenhanced and spiritualized her remarkable beauty, making her appearall that lover or poet could ask. His own words grew kinder andgentler; his heart went out to her as never before; she seemed sofair, delicate, and pure in that witching light that he longed torescue her at once from her surroundings. Why should he not? She hadnever manifested a more gentle and yielding mood. He directed hersteps from the piazza to a somewhat distant summer-house, and herreluctance was a shy half revolt, which only emphasized the naturalmeaning of her unspoken consent.
Mrs. Muir was still keeping her eyes open, and from her window sawthem pass under the shadow of the trees.
At last they were sitting alone in the summer night. Graydon felt thatwords were scarcely needed--that his manner had spoken unequivocally,and that hers had granted all; but he took her hand and lookedearnestly into her downcast face. "Oh, Stella--" he began.
A twig snapped in the adjacent grove. She sprang up. "Hush, Graydon,"she whispered; "not yet. Please trust me. Oh, what am I thinking of tobe out so late!--but could not resist. Come;" and she started for thehouse.
As they passed in at the door he said, in a low, deep tone, "Youcannot put me off much longer, Stella."
"No, Graydon," she whispered, hurriedly, and hastened to her room.
In his deep feeling he had not heard the suspicious sound in thegrove, and Miss Wildmere's manner was only another expression of thestrong constraint which he believed to be imposed upon her by herfather's financial peril. He felt bitterly disappointed, however.Although irritated, he was yet rendered more than forgiving by theapparent truth that she had almost yielded to the impulses of herheart, in spite of grave considerations--and promises perhaps--to thecontrary.
He was at a loss what to do, yet felt that the present condition ofaffairs was becoming intolerable. Almost immediately upon his returnfrom Europe he had written to Mr. Wildmere for permission to pay hisaddresses, and had received a brief and courteous reply. The thoughtof again appealing to the father occurred to him, but was speedilydismissed with unconquerable repugnance. The very fact that this mancompelled his daughter to take such a course made Graydon wish neverto speak to him again. "No," he muttered; "the girl must yield to me,and cut loose from all her father's shifty ways and associations."
The night was so beautiful, and his thoughts kept him so wakeful, thathe sat in a shadow and watched the moonlight transfiguring the worldinto beauty. Before long he heard a step, and a man came from thatend of the piazza which was nearest the summer-house. As he passedin, Graydon saw that it was Arnault. The quick suspicion came intohis mind, "Could he have been watching?" Then flashed another thought,"Could she have become aware of his presence, and was this the causeof her abrupt flight?"
The latter supposition was dismissed indignantly and at once. Theaffair was taking on an aspect, however, so intensely disagreeablethat he resolved to write to Miss Wildmere that he would absenthimself until Arnault should disappear below the horizon. He wouldthen go trouting or take a trip to some other resort. This coursehe believed would bring her to a decision, and after their recentinterview he could scarcely doubt its nature.
Before he was aware of it, his thoughts returned to Madge. In fancy hesaw the gray farmhouse on the lonely mountain-side, with a sweetface at the window, the dark, sympathetic eyes now looking out onthe silent, moonlit landscape, and again at the thin, white face of adying girl. "Poor, poor child!" he thought, reverting to the patient."Well, for once, at least, she has had a good angel watching over her.I would like to see Madge's face framed by the open window in thiswitching light. Would to Heaven that Stella was more like her! YetStella was beautiful as a dream to-night, and it seemed that my visionof happiness was on the very eve of fulfilment."
A Young Girl's Wooing Page 26