CHAPTER XIX.
THE END OF THE STORY.
When the day for parting came Barbara found that it cost her many pangsto leave them all--Mademoiselle Vire first and foremost, and the othersin less degree, for she had grown fond even of Mademoiselle Therese.The latter lady declared she and her household were inconsolable and"unhappy enough to wear mourning," which remark Barbara took with agrain of salt, as she did most things that lady said.
But the two sisters and Marie all went to the station to say good-bye,and each of them kissed her on both cheeks, weeping the while. Barbarawas not very fond of kisses from outsiders in any case, but "weepingkisses," as she called them, were certainly a trial! What finallydried Mademoiselle Therese's tears was to see the widower and his twosons entering the station, each carrying a bouquet of flowers.
"So pushing of them," she murmured in Barbara's ear, and turned coldlyupon them; but the girl and her aunt were touched by the kindness, andthe former felt horribly ashamed when she remembered that more thanonce in private she had laughed at the quaint little man and his ways.
Barbara heard her aunt muttering something about a "dreadful humbug"once or twice, but she was very gracious to every one, and smiled uponthem all until the train left the station, when she sank back with anair of relief and exclaimed, "Thank goodness! That's over--though, ofcourse, they meant it kindly."
"They are very kind," Barbara said, looking down at the three bouquetson the seat. "I really don't deserve that they should be so kind."
"Probably not," Miss Britton returned calmly. "We sometimes get morethan our deserts, sometimes less, so perhaps things adjust themselvesin the end. I was really rather astonished not to see the bath-boy atthe station too--your acquaintance seems so varied."
"Yes, I have learned a great deal since I went there," Barbara saidthoughtfully; "and just at the end I felt I didn't want to come away atall."
"I have no such feelings," her aunt remarked, though, perhaps, a littlethoughtfully also. But when they arrived at Rouen, the remembrance oftheir pleasant time in Paris returned to them, and they both felt readyfor the delights of seeing a new town.
Apart from the information given by the Mortons Barbara felt alreadyfamiliar with the great churches and quaint streets, and for her Rouennever quite lost the halo of romance that Mademoiselle Vire had endowedit with.
It was to be connected with yet another story of the past, however,before they left it, one which, for romance, was fully equal toMademoiselle Vire's, though its conclusion was so much happier.
It was the second day of their stay, and after a morning of wanderingabout the town, both Barbara and her aunt were resting, the former onthe balcony in front of her room, the latter on the terrace in thegarden. Although a book was in her lap, Barbara was not reading, but,with hands clasped behind her head, was idly watching the passers-by,when suddenly laziness vanished from her attitude, and her gaze becameintent on the figure of some one who had just turned into the porticoof the hotel. She rose from the low chair, her eyes shining withexcitement.
"It certainly was he!" she said. "Now, Barbara--it is time for you toeliminate yourself--you must lie on the couch and try to look pale."
She pulled down the window blind, ran into her room, and had hardlysettled herself upon the couch when, as she had expected, a maid cameup with a message asking her to go down to the terrace.
"Please tell Miss Britton I have a headache, and am lying down for alittle," Barbara said, congratulating herself upon the possession ofwhat had annoyed her considerably a short time before, though in anordinary way she would have scoffed at the idea of lying down for aheadache. A few minutes afterwards up came her aunt, looking veryconcerned, and fearing lest they had been doing too much. Barbara'sheart smote her, but she told herself that she must be firm.
"I sent for you to come to see Mr. Morton, senior," Aunt Anneexplained. "Strangely enough, he arrived this morning in Rouen, andhas put up at another hotel."
"How nice. How very nice! I shall come down later, aunt. I expect Ishall be _quite_ all right shortly."
She had a little difficulty in persuading her aunt that it was notnecessary to stay beside her, but at last succeeded in doing so, andgave a chuckle of joy when the door closed.
She had intended to go down to the garden later on, but, strange tosay, fell fast asleep, and did not awaken until the man tapped at herdoor, saying the tea had been ordered for four o'clock, but now,although it was half-past, madame had not returned, having gone alongthe river bank, he believed, with monsieur. So Barbara hastilydescended and had tea--very much brewed--all by herself, and thenreturned to her room to read.
She had finished her book, and was thinking of getting ready fordinner, when Aunt Anne came in--quite a different Aunt Anne from theone she knew, with all her decision fled. She fidgeted about for sometime, saying nothing of importance, then at last turned round and beganhastily--
"I did a very silly thing once long ago, Barbara, and to-day I havedone what I am afraid people may think still sillier--I have promisedto marry Mr. Morton."
Whereupon Barbara seized her rapturously. "Oh, aunt," she cried, "I'mso glad, just gladder than of anything else I could have heard."
"It--it is a great relief, Barbara," she said unsteadily, "to have youtake it so. I--was afraid you might laugh. You know, it needs somecourage for a person of my age to do a thing like that. It isdifferent for a girl like you, but I could not have done it, had I notfelt that since he desired it so urgently, I ought to right the wrong Ihad done him long ago."
"You can't help being very happy, aunt," said Barbara, "I'm sure, withsuch a nice man as Mr. Morton. The only regret _I_ have is that you'velost so much of the time----"
Then, seeing her aunt's face, she felt inclined to strike herself forhaving spoken foolishly.
"Mr. Morton is in the garden," her aunt said after a moment. "It wouldbe nice if you went down and saw him." And Barbara sped away.
That interview was apparently entirely satisfactory, for Miss Britton,enjoining them later, found Barbara had just issued an invitation inher mother's name and that it had been accepted. "And, of course, youwill come too, aunt," the girl added.
There was one part in the arrangements that Barbara begged to be leftto her, and that was the letter home telling the news.
"You see, Aunt Anne," she said, "I naturally feel as if I had rather abig share in the matter."
"I think surely it was Denys Morton's letter that brought me," MissBritton corrected; "but write if you like, Barbara." And, indeed, shewas rather glad to be relieved from the responsibility.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CODA.
If Barbara had been at home when her letter arrived, she would havebeen quite content with the excitement it caused. At first Frances andDonald were inclined to think it a huge joke, but having read to theend of Barbara's letter they felt rather differently. Aunt Anne hadacted more wisely than she knew in allowing her niece to be the one towrite and tell of her engagement.
"Of course," Donald said in his decided way, "we must do the properthing by her and treat her nicely--for after all, Frances, she's beenrather a brick about Barbara--and the last time she stayed she was muchimproved."
"It'll be interesting having a new uncle too," Frances remarkedcomplacently. "We're rather badly off for uncles, Don, and from whatBarbara says this Mr. Morton must be very--nice, though, of course,Barbara isn't quite to be trusted, seeing she's such a friend ofDenys'. Let me see, now, what relation will _he_ be to us?"
"Oh, don't bother about relationships at present--you may just have torearrange them again," Donald said impatiently. "Let's go and bethinking of something to welcome Barbara back."
On that matter they held a long consultation, Donald being in favour oftaking the horse out of the fly and drawing it home themselves, andFrances inclining more to wreaths and decoration.
She got her way in the end, as she pointed out to her brother that thecabman would prob
ably not allow them to take the horse out, and thatthey would have to pay for it all the same, and worst of all, that theywould be so much out of breath with pulling that they would not be ableto ask any questions when they got home. It was probably the lastreason that weighed the most with Donald, who agreed to devote hisenergies to making an archway over the garden path and setting off somefireworks in the evening.
On the whole, the arch was quite a success, and looked very pretty,though it was not so secure as it might have been, and its makers feltit safer to fasten to it a large label with the inscription, "Not to behandled."
The travellers were not to arrive till late in the afternoon, and poorMrs. Britton was driven nearly distracted by the intense excitementpervading among the children during the morning. One of the twins hadactually suggested putting on her best frock the night before so as tobe quite ready on the following day.
It is seldom that such an eagerly-expected event is not disappointingin some detail of its fulfilment, but there was not a shade upon thehappiness on this occasion. Barbara and Miss Britton arrived at theright time, _with_ their luggage; the archway remained firm until boththe travellers had passed underneath (though it collapsed shortlyafterwards); and the fireworks were as successful as such thingsusually are. It is true that Donald was a trifle hurried overdisplaying them, for Barbara was as anxious to unpack the treasures shehad brought home as the children were to see them.
"You are still a _little_ thin, dear," Mrs. Britton said, as shewatched her daughter; but Barbara declared it was imagination, andDonald and Frances gave it as their opinion that it was only the"Frenchy kind of look she had."
"You have dressed her in such jolly things, aunt," Frances saidadmiringly. "I like a person to come home looking like the countryshe's come from, and it'll be a great advantage to her teaching--she'llget heaps of pupils, I'm sure."
"Oh, we'll not talk about the teaching just yet," Mrs. Britton saidquickly. "She must have a week or two free first, and then it will betime enough for us to think about it;" and to that there was nodissentient voice--except Barbara's.
Aunt Anne had brought home some treasures too; but was quite willing tokeep hers till later, and the children declared, with round eyes ofdelight, that Barbara had brought enough to last for a very long time.
"You really were a brick to bring so many lovely things, Barbara," saidFrances, trying to fix in a brooch with one hand while she stroked asilk blouse with the other. "This brooch is so pretty, I'm really notgoing to lose it, though I can't think how you got enough money to buyso much."
Miss Britton looked across at her niece, who hastily dived into hertrunk again; but the former confided to her sister-in-law afterwards,that Barbara had distributed the remainder of the money she had givenher for riding lessons between the bath-boy and presents for thehome-people, which news made Mrs. Britton prize _her_ share of thetreasures more than ever.
The only thing that a little disappointed the children was that "UncleMorton" had not arrived too.
"It's a pity he didn't come with you, we're all so anxious to see him,"Frances remarked, looking at her aunt, whom Barbara relieved byanswering in her stead.
"Both Mr. Morton and his nephew are coming soon to the inn," she said,"so you haven't long to wait."
But their curiosity rose to almost unbearable heights before thefortnight was over, and Barbara had a little difficulty in making themsolemnly promise that they would not bother their aunt with questionsmeanwhile.
Frances and Donald both wished to go to the station to meet the train,but this their mother forbade.
"You will see them here to-night," she said; "they are coming up todinner. Meanwhile, content yourselves with Barbara."
"Yes," remarked Donald; "we really didn't realise how much we missedBarbara until she was back. It's just jolly having her."
Nevertheless, they disappeared suddenly during the afternoon, and didnot return until about an hour before dinner, when they both wore thehalf sheepish, half triumphant expression that Barbara knew of oldmeant some escapade successfully carried through. Knowing they wouldprobably tell her what it was, she went on arranging the flowers on thedinner-table while they fidgeted round the room.
"I say," Donald said at last, "I really think Uncle Morton is one ofthe nicest elderly men I've met for some time, perhaps ever."
"Yes," Frances agreed; "I think so too. He'll be quite an exquisitionas an uncle. But we didn't go to the station," she hastened to add, asBarbara turned round to listen. "Donald wanted to go up to the innthis afternoon--at least we both did--to see Mr. Bates about the rabbithe promised us, and we were talking to him quite comfortably when agentleman came and stood at the door looking into the passage."
"'That's an American gentleman as has come to-day with his nephew,' Mr.Bates remarked, and, of course, we knew it must be Uncle Morton, and wethought since we _were_ there it would be rather unkind to go awaywithout ever giving him a welcoming word. Mr. Bates thought so toowhen we asked his opinion, so we just went and introduced ourselves,and told him we were glad to see him, and so on. We saw the nephewtoo."
"Yes," Donald went on, without giving Barbara a chance to speak, "andas he seemed very glad to see us, and said it was kind of us to look inon him, of course we stayed a little longer. He's an interesting man."
"I'm glad you like him," Barbara said, bubbling over with laughter."I'm sure it must be a relief to him."
"Yes," Donald nodded, "and to the nephew too. I think we'll be quitegood friends with him. You see, Barbara," he went on, fearing lest sheshould feel disapproval about their visit, "it really was better forthem not to have to face us _all_ in a mass. Now they've got _us_over--they've only to get mother's approval."
But this remark was altogether too much for Barbara's gravity, and shedrove her brother and sister off to make themselves presentable.
But when their visitors had gone that evening and she was talking inher mother's room, she told the story of the afternoon again, and theylaughed over it together.
"Conceited little creatures," Mrs. Britton said. "But my judgmentcoincides with theirs, Barbara--and yours. I think he is one of thenicest men I have met, and it is splendid to see them so happy."
"Yes," Barbara replied contentedly; "it was really rather a happy thingthat I was chased by that cyclist and met the 'American pretender,'wasn't it, mother?"
"I dare say it was," said Mrs. Britton; but she eyed her daughterrather wistfully, then kissed her and bade her go to bed, though longafter the girl had left her she sit thinking. It was clear to her, asit had been to Aunt Anne for some time, that Denys Morton was anxiousto make his uncle Barbara's, by a less round-about method than throughhis connection with Aunt Anne; and before a week had passed he hadspoken of his desire, astonishing no one so much as Barbara herself.
"Of course," said Donald, who had gone to his mother for information onthe matter, and was now discussing it in the privacy of the apple-treewith Frances, "I felt, as eldest son, I ought to be told about it,though I knew as soon as I saw Denys Morton that he wanted to marryBarbara."
"He would have been very foolish if he hadn't," Frances remarked."But, of course, Barbara is such an unself-conscious kind of personthat it was quite natural _she_ should be surprised. Aunt Anne saysshe would choose Denys above every one for Barbara--only, naturally,she's got a leaning to the family."
Donald nodded.
"So have I, though that's no good if Barbara doesn't want to make upher mind, and she seems not to. In any case, mother thinks she's tooyoung, though I should have thought that Aunt Anne kind of balancedit--being fairly old, you know; and besides, Denys is a lot older thanshe is."
"Well," said Frances, "_I_ shall give him all the encouragement I can,for I think he's very nice. I believe, Donald, that he didn't go toRouen just because it's an infectious kind of thing, and he didn't wantto ask Barbara before he had told mother and us----"
"There he is," interrupted Donald. "He looks rather down; let's go
andcheer him up," and the two dropped over the wall into the field thatbordered the garden. They sauntered towards the path leading to theriver, and surprised Denys not a little by suddenly joining him.
"They surprised Denys by suddenly joining him."]
"I say," Donald began, without giving him time to speak, "I don't thinkyou need be worried,--I've known Barbara a good long time, and I'venever known her to be so absent-minded before."
To say that Denys was startled is keeping strictly within the limits oftruth, and at first he was not sure whether he felt angry or amused.But he had grown pretty well accustomed to Donald and Frances by thistime, and after a moment of embarrassment accepted the situation."Thank you," he said, "it is kind of you to take an interest in--me."
"Not at all," Frances said graciously, "we think it's really ratherhard lines on you, as, of course we knew all along you wanted to marryBarbara."
"By jove!" muttered Denys a little helplessly.
"Yes, of course," Donald put in. "Anybody sensible would want to dothat. If I hadn't been her brother _I_ should have. But though it'srather rough on you, I think two months' absence in America will justbe the thing for Barbara."
The young man gazed at his youthful adviser, and was so overpoweredthat he could think of nothing to say.
"When do you go?" Donald continued.
"Next week. I'm coming back in six weeks--not two months--for myuncle's wedding," said Denys, finding his voice.
There was a pause, and Frances, seeing from her brother's expressionthat he was deep in thought, forbore to make any remark until she sawhim smile, then she said--
"Well, Donald?"
But her brother addressed himself to Denys--
"Considering you've been here a good time now," he said, "you haven'tseen much of the country really. Suppose you came for a long walk onthe moor to-morrow with Frances and me--and Barbara?"
Denys' eyes lighted up. "If Barbara will, I shall be charmed," he said.
"I think she'll come," Donald said cheerfully; and moved by somepersuasion or force Barbara consented, and the four started off acrossthe moors.
They started together--that was certain--but did not return in the samemanner, for Donald and Frances had got most thoroughly lost, althoughas Donald said, with a grin, "he had walked that moor, man and boy, forthe past six years."
But when the two truants returned they did not seem at all cast down bytheir misfortune, while Denys certainly came back in a more cheerfulmood than that in which he had set out.
"I think you'll find things all right when you come back again," Donaldwhispered on the morning the visitors were to go, and Denys, nodding,gripped his hand so tightly that the boy winced.
"I think," said Frances, as she watched the carriage disappearing--"Ithink, Donald, Aunt Anne ought to be very thankful she was so generous.She has been rewarded, hasn't she, in finding Uncle Morton?"
"Yes, virtue has had its reward. But you know, Frances, I think we'rebeing rather generous too."
"Yes?" Frances said interrogatively.
"Well, the end will be that we lose Barbara, and we haven't raised afinger to prevent it--on the contrary we've helped--and you know we'renever likely to find another sister like her."
"No, of course not. But all the same a wedding--and I suppose there'llbe two--will make a grand finale like the 'Codas' you have in marches."
"Yes. You're really rather poetical, Frances. And perhaps by the timeyou're ready for France another aunt will turn up to take you there."
"I hope so, though they can't always expect to find Uncle Mortons as areward. But there's time enough to think of that; and at any rate,Don, I'm going to be bride's-maid at the wedding."
"Yes," said Donald. "And there'll be two wedding cakes running,Fran--think of that!"
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