Beth Woodburn
Page 2
CHAPTER II.
_A DREAM OF LIFE._
It was late the next afternoon when Beth stood before the mirrorfastening the moss roses in her belt. Arthur had gone away with herfather to see a friend, and would not return till well on in theevening. Aunt Prudence gave her the customary warning about not stayinglate and Beth went off with a lighter heart than usual. It was adelightful day. The homes all looked so cheery, and the children wereplaying at the gates as she went down the street. There was one her eyedwelt on more than the rest. The pigeons were strutting on the slopingroof, the cat dozed in the window-sill, and the little fair-haired girlswere swinging under the cherry-tree. Yes, marriage and home must besweet after all. Beth had always said she never would marry. She wantedto write stories and not have other cares. But school girls changetheir views sometimes.
It was only a few minutes' walk to the Mayfair residence beside thelake. Beth was familiar with the place and scarcely noticed the greatold lawn, the trees almost concealing the house: that pretty fountainyonder, the tennis ground to the south, and the great blue Eriestretching far away.
Edith Mayfair came down the walk to meet her, a light-haired, winsomecreature, several years older than Beth. But she looked even younger.Hers was such a child-like face! It was pretty to see the way she twinedher arm about Beth. They had loved each other ever since the Mayfairshad come to Briarsfield three years ago. Mr. and Mrs. Mayfair weresitting on the veranda. Beth had always loved Mrs. Mayfair; she was sucha bright girlish woman, in spite of her dignity and soft grey hair. Mr.Mayfair, too, had a calm, pleasing manner. To Beth's literary mind therewas something about the Mayfair home that reminded her of a novel. Theywere wealthy people, at least supposed to be so, who had settled inBriarsfield to live their lives in rural contentment.
It was a pretty room of Edith's that she took Beth into--a pleasingconfusion of curtains, books, music, and flowers, with a guitar lyingon the coach. There was a photo on the little table that caught Beth'sattention. It was Mr. Ashley, the classical master in Briarsfield HighSchool, for Briarsfield could boast a High School. He and Edith hadbecome very friendly, and village gossip was already linking theirnames. Beth looked up and saw Edith watching her with a smiling,blushing face. The next minute she threw both arms about Beth.
"Can't you guess what I was going to tell you, Beth, dear?"
"Why, Edith, are you and Mr. Ashley--"
"Yes, dear. I thought you would guess."
Beth only hugged her by way of congratulation, and Edith laughed alittle hysterically. Beth was used to these emotional fits of Edith's.Then she began to question--
"When is it to be?"
"September. And you will be my bridesmaid, won't you, dear?"
Beth promised.
"Oh, Beth, I think marriage is the grandest institution God ever made."
Beth had a strange dream-like look in her eyes, and the tea-bell broketheir reverie.
Mr. Ashley had dropped in for tea, and Clarence sat beside Beth, withEdith and her betrothed opposite. It was so pleasant and home-like,with the pink cluster of roses smiling in at the window.
After tea, Edith and Mr. Ashley seemed prepared for a _tete-a-tete_, inwhich Mrs. Mayfair was also interested; and Clarence took Beth around tothe conservatory to see a night-blooming cirius. It was not out yet, andso they went for a promenade through the long grounds toward the lake.Beth never forgot that walk in all her life to come. Somehow she did notseem herself. All her ambition and struggle seemed at rest. She was achild, a careless child, and the flowers bloomed around her, andClarence was at her side. The lake was very calm when they reached it;the stars were shining faintly, and they could see Long Point Islandlike a long dark line in the distant water.
"Arthur is going to take me over to the island this week," said Beth.
They had just reached a little cliff jutting out over the water. It was,perhaps, one of the most picturesque scenes on the shores of Lake Erie.
"Wouldn't it be grand to be on this cliff and watch a thunderstormcoming up over the lake?" said Beth.
"You are very daring Beth--Miss Woodburn. Edith would rather hide herhead under the blankets."
"Do you know, I really love thunderstorms," continued Beth. "It is sucha nice safe feeling to lie quiet and sheltered in bed and hear thethunder crash and the storm beat outside. Somehow, I always feel moredeeply that God is great and powerful, and that the world has a liveruler." She stopped rather suddenly. Clarence never touched on religioussubjects in conversation--
"Dear, what a ducking Arthur and I got in a thunderstorm one time. Wewere out hazel-nutting and--"
"Do you always call Mr. Grafton Arthur?" interrupted Clarence, a littleimpatiently.
"Oh, yes! Why, how funny it would seem to call Arthur Mr. Grafton!"
"Beth"--he grew paler and his voice almost trembled,--"Beth, do you loveArthur Grafton?"
"Love Arthur! Why, dear, no! I never thought of it. He's just like mybrother. Besides," she continued after a pause, "Arthur is going awayoff somewhere to be a missionary, and I don't think I could be happy ifI married a man who wasn't a writer."
That was very naive of Beth. She forgot Clarence's literarypretensions.
"Then can you love me, Beth? Don't you see that I love you?"
There was a moment's silence. Their eyes met in a long, earnest look. Animpulse of tenderness came over her, and she threw both arms about hisneck as he clasped her to his breast. The stars were shining above andthe water breaking at their feet. They understood each other withoutwords.
"Oh, Clarence, I am so happy, so very happy!"
The night air wafted the fragrance of roses about them like incense.They walked on along the shore, happy lovers, weaving their life-dreamsunder the soft sky of that summer night.
"I wonder if anyone else is as happy as we are, Beth!"
"Oh, Clarence, how good we ought to be! I mean to always be kinder andto try and make other people happy, too."
"You are good, Beth. May God bless our lives."
She had never seen Clarence so earnest and manly before. Yes, she wasvery much in love, she told herself.
They talked much on the way back to the house. He told her that hisfather was not so wealthy as many people supposed; that it would beseveral years before he himself could marry. But Beth's brow was notclouded. She wanted her college course, and somehow Clarence seemed somuch more manly with a few difficulties to face.
A faint sound of music greeted them as they reached the house. Edith wasplaying her guitar. Mrs. Mayfair met them on the veranda.
"Why, Clarence, how late you've kept the child out," said Mrs. Mayfairwith a motherly air. "I'm afraid you will catch cold, Miss Woodburn;there is such a heavy dew!"
Clarence went up to his mother and said something in a low tone. Apleased look lighted her face.
"I am so glad, dear Beth, my daughter. I shall have another daughter inplace of the one I am giving away."
She drew the girl to her breast with tender affection. Beth had beenmotherless all her life, and the caress was sweet and soothing to her.Edith fastened her cape and kissed her fondly when she was going home.Clarence went with her, and somehow everything was so dream-like andunreal that even the old rough-cast home looked strange and shadowy inthe moon-light. It was perhaps a relief that her father had not yetreturned.
She was smiling and happy, but even her own little room seemed strangelyunnatural that night. She stopped just inside the door and looked at it,the moonlight streaming through the open window upon her bed. Was shereally the same Beth Woodburn that had rested there last night andthought about the roses. She took them out of her belt now. A sweetlysolemn feeling stole over her, and she crossed over and knelt at thewindow, the withered roses in her hand, her face upturned to heaven.Sacred thoughts filled her mind. She had longed for love, someone tolove, someone who loved her; but was she worthy, she asked herself, pureenough, good enough? She felt to-night that she was kneeling at anunseen shrine, a bride, to be decked by t
he holy angels in robes whiterthan mortal ever saw.
Waves of sweet music aroused her. She started up as from a dream,recognizing at once the touch of the same hand that she had heard in thedistance the night before, and it was coming from their own parlorwindow, right beneath hers! She held her breath almost as she stole outand leaned over the balustrade to peer into the parlor. Why, it wasArthur! Was it possible he could play like that? She made a strikingpicture as she stood there on the stairs, her great grey eyes drinkingin the music: but she was relieved somehow when it ceased. It wasbright, quick, inspiring; but it seemed to make her forget her new-bornjoy while it lasted.