CHAPTER XXXV. MURIEL WRITES A LETTER.
Meanwhile Muriel had a problem of her own to settle. She had been invitedto spend the holidays in the homes of her two best friends, and did notknow what to do, as she wished to accept both invitations, but that, ofcourse, was impossible. Then it was that the matter was decided for herin a most unexpected and delightful manner. Doctor Winslow had been afrequent Sunday visitor at the school (for was not his protege one of thepupils?) and each time there had been a cozy party in Miss Gordon'scharming "den."
The kindly physician had noticed an expression of weariness in the eyesof the older woman as though the responsibility of training so many girlswas bearing heavily upon her and he had suddenly decided that what sheneeded was a complete change of scene; and, as he had often heard MissGordon express a desire to visit Tunkett, he offered his home to her andto Muriel for the midwinter vacation, assuring them that he had alreadycommunicated with his housekeeper, who lived in a neighboring cottage,and that both Brazilla Mullet and her brother Jabez would look aftertheir every comfort.
Muriel was seated in her low chair on the side of the fireplace oppositeMiss Gordon when that little woman, her eyes glowing, her cheeks faintlyflushed, read aloud the letter which she had received from the brother ofher long-ago classmate.
"Oh, Miss Gordon, shall we go? How wonderful it would be," Murielexclaimed. "You'll just love Tunkett and the dear queer people. Of coursethey don't seem queer to me, but they surely are different. I can'timagine them living anywhere else but just in Tunkett. I love them all,every one of them, even old Cap'n Sam Peters, I do believe. Grand-dadused to say that Cap'n Sam was too lazy to haul in a cod even when he hadhim well hooked. Then there's Mrs. Sam Peters and all the otherfisherfolk.
"How happy little Zoeth Wixon will be when he sees me! I hope no one willtell him that I'm coming. I want to surprise him and Shags. Oh, MissGordon, won't Shags be the happiest dog in all this world when he hearsmy voice? Nobody knows how lonely I've been for my shaggy comrade, but itmade Zoeth so happy to keep him and I couldn't have him here. I must takeeveryone of them a Christmas present. What fun that will be! Little Zoethused to call me his 'story-gal' because I told him the tales Uncle Barneyhad told to me. Oh, I know what I'll do. I'll buy him a book full ofpictures of fairies and giants. Zoey is going to the village school thiswinter and if I choose a book with short words in it and big print, hemay be able to read the stories all by himself.
"Now what shall I get for Linda Wixon? Something bright and pretty towear. That's what she was always wishing for," Muriel ended breathlessly.
Miss Gordon leaned back in the shadow and watched the eager face of thegirl whose hair was growing coppery in the firelight. Then suddenlyMuriel's eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. "I'm trying not tothink how lonely I'll be without Grand-dad," she said, "but somehow I'drather go home this first Christmas than anywhere else. I really would."Then she added ruefully: "Miss Gordon, here I am chattering on just asthough we were _really_ going, and you haven't even said that you likethe plan. Would you rather go somewhere else, for, if you would, I canvisit Faith or Joy, for they have both invited me."
"I really want to go with you to Tunkett, Muriel," was the earnest reply."I think it is a beautiful plan. I want to just rest and feel the sweepof the salt wind, and forget, for a time, that I have the responsibilityof training sixty-two young ladies in the ways that they should go."
Then, as was their wont, these two who understood each other sat quietlygazing into the fire, dreaming their dreams. To Miss Gordon, who for somany years had had no one to lean upon, it seemed indeed wonderful tofind someone at last who wanted to plan for her comfort and happiness,and lonely Muriel felt that she would rather spend this first Christmassince her grand-dad had gone with the simple folk who had known him andloved him. Faith and Joy indeed were disappointed when they heard thattheir beloved Muriel was not to spend the holidays with them in their NewYork homes.
These girls had planned to share their island friend and many were thesurprises they had in store for her, but when they realized how much itmeant to Rilla to go to the little fishing village that she called home,they did not let her know of the plans they had made for her pleasure,nor need they be entirely abandoned, merely postponed.
"How I do wish you could both come down to Tunkett for a week-end while Iam there," Muriel exclaimed one day when Joy and Faith had dropped intoher cupola room for a moment.
"Is there a hotel in the town?" Joy asked eagerly.
How Rilla laughed. "Nothing like the one to which Miss Widdemere took uslast week when we were in New York," she said. "However there is an innvery like the one about which you were reading, Faith, in that magazinestory. In fact, the fishing village might almost have been Tunkett, I dobelieve. Perhaps all New England coast towns are much alike."
"That settles it," Faith declared. "I've always wanted to really see withmy own eyes a village like the one in that story, haven't you, Joy?"
Their Dresden China girl laughingly agreed that the one desire of herlife was to visit just such a place, and that, if all went well, theywould surprise Muriel by appearing at the inn in Tunkett for at least oneweek-end of the vacation which was but a fortnight away.
"Oh, what jolly fun that will be," Rilla exclaimed. "Girls, I believesomething wonderful is going to happen to me during the Christmasholidays. I feel it, though I can't tell what it is to be."
"I sincerely hope so," Faith said. Then, after a hesitating moment, sheasked: "Dear, have you ever wished that you might know who your ownfather is?"
Muriel's face grew suddenly pale and there were tears in her eyes.
"Why should I want him," she said slowly and in a voice quivering withemotion, "since he did not care for me?"
Faith's arms were about her. "Dear, dear girl," she said, "do forgive mefor having spoken of your father. I didn't know. I didn't understand."
"Nor do I understand." Muriel smiled through her tears as she held out ahand to her other dearest friend, who stood silently near, her sweet faceexpressing tender sympathy. "I know nothing whatever about my father. IfGrand-dad knew about him, he never told me. He had promised to tell meall about my girl-mother's marriage when I was eighteen years of age. Iam nearly that now, but Grand-dad is not here. I do not believe thatanyone else knows. I have often wanted to ask Uncle Barney, but sinceGrand-dad died I haven't seemed to care. I have felt that if my ownfather could desert his baby girl, surely he would not want her when shewas grown."
How deeply Faith regretted that she had spoken to Muriel of her unknownfather, but it was done and could not be helped.
All that day, as Rilla went about her tasks, she could think of nothingelse. How she hoped that some day she would find that she had beenwronging the man whom her girl-mother had loved.
How wonderful it would be, she thought, to have someone who would be hervery own to love her as her grand-dad had loved her. Everyone was kind,but no one could quite take the place in the heart of Muriel of the threefor whom she prayed ever since she was a child--the girl-mother who haddied, the grand-dad who had sheltered her, and the father who never came.How she loved them all, and how she longed for them.
Why, just then, she should have thought of her brother-friend she couldnot have told, but she did think of him, and she resolved that just assoon as the lessons for the day were done she would write Gene Beaversthat first letter for which he had so long and patiently waited.
* * * * * * * *
Gene Beavers was just leaving the house in which he lived with hisparents and sister on the outskirts of London when a maid recalled him togive him the morning mail. She wondered at the sudden brightening of hisexpression. He glanced at the several envelopes, tossed all but one backupon the hall table unopened, slipped that one into his pocket and againwent out. He wanted to read this very first letter from his "stormmaiden" by the stream in the Wainwater Woods. He was on his way to sp
endthe day with his boon companion, the viscount. Wonderful days they werethat these two spent together, sometimes galloping across country onhorseback and at other times hiking, stopping in lovely secluded placesto rest, read and dream.
A stranger would not have guessed that the lad had so recently been aninvalid, for his face once more was bronzed by the wind and sun, and inhis eagerness to reach his destination, he fairly ran down the desertedhighway. Having reached a sheltered spot, he threw himself down upon thebank of the stream, took the letter from his pocket and looked admiringlyat the neat and really pretty handwriting. He had known that Muriel didnot intend to send him a letter until she could write well and form hersentences correctly, but, even so, he was surprised with the contents ofher missive.
"Dear Brother-Friend," he read:
"When I first came here, I felt as one of my white gulls might if after years of winging through the sunlit air, being swept hither and thither and yon by restless winds, of dipping into the surf when it would, it had suddenly found itself in a cage, barred in. But now I am glad that I was caught and kept in a cage, for I have learned much. I have always known how to dream, Brother-Friend, but, oh, the wonder of it, for now I can write my dreams and send them to the far-away place where you are.
"This cannot be a real letter but I did so want to tell you that the cage door is to be open for two long weeks, and that I am going with our dear Miss Gordon, whom you know, to spend the Christmas vacation at Tunkett. How I wish that you were going to be there, as you were last year.
"Do you remember the day we raced with Shags on the sand, and your sister came and Marianne Carnot? How long, long ago that seems.
"The bell calling us to Politeness Class is ringing, and I'll have to say goodbye for now, but I'll write you from Tunkett and tell you how everything and everyone looks. You quite won the heart of Brazilla Mullet. Shall you write to me while I am there?
"Your Sister-Friend, Rilla of the Storms.
"P. S.--Of course you may show 'The Lonely Pelican' to your new friend if you wish, although it will not interest a real poet, as Miss Gordon tells me that Waine Waters truly is.
"M. S."
Leaping to his feet, Gene continued on his way to the cabin hidden in thedepths of the wood, where his comrade, the Viscount of Wainwater, wasimpatiently awaiting his coming.
The older man was growing restless. He seldom remained so long inEngland, and he was preparing to start on a journey, perhaps to the Nile,and he wanted Gene to be his traveling companion.
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