He filled the vase with water and handed out the pale pink rosebuds, one at a time, watching her while she arranged them, and she could see he was enjoying this little incident, too. If the bride didn't know enough to appreciate what they had done, it would not matter, for they would always have this memory of each other doing this together.
Chapter 8
Dinner was early that night. Mary Garland understood that Sylvia would be excited, and it was well to have plenty of time. Besides, the young escort was to be introduced to her. So she put on one of her most becoming gowns, just a simple, plain one in deep purple like ripe grapes, with a bit of hand braiding on it and a touch of lace at the throat and wrists. Paul told her she looked like a queen and defied his sister Sylvia to rival her, even if she did have talisman roses to wear with her new garnet dress.
They had a cheerful little meal, each trying to smile his brightest, all realizing that they were coming nearer and nearer to the crucial time when something had to happen. The recalcitrant bride and groom might walk in upon them at any moment now, and they were trying to strengthen one another for the time of trial.
"Mother," whispered Sylvia, as they met on the stairs on the way down to dinner, "what should I do in case Rex and----and--that girl would turn up just when Rance gets here? Should I introduce them, or what? And how would I know what to call her?"
"Certainly, if they come they'll have to be introduced," said Mary Garland. "Just say, 'This is my brother Rex and his wife,' and leave it at that."
"But, Mother, I'm afraid he'll notice how young Rex looks and think it's awfully strange. I'm afraid, too, that everybody will act kind of stiff, and he won't know what to make of it. Do you think, Mother, that it would be the wrong thing for me to tell him about it this evening, sort of explain that it was something we didn't know about, or something like that?"
"Why, no, he's a friend of yours, and if you continue to see him occasionally, he will undoubtedly have to know the facts. I wouldn't force them on him, however, unless you feel it is necessary. You could say it has caused us anxiety because he was married so suddenly and without our knowledge. Oh, I don't know, Sylvia, whatever you want to do. Just follow your own good sense. Remember Rex is your brother, and don't say hard things, but don't talk a lot about it. Just say we don't know her at all and are worried. Or you can say you are. But follow the counsel of your own heart, dear, and don't let this matter get on your nerves. Enjoy your concert with all your heart. These things of life will work out. They may bring a lot of sorrow with them, but that we can't help. Now let's get the dinner out of the way."
"But suppose Rex comes while we are at dinner?"
"Never mind. They didn't let us know when they were coming, and they'll have to take what they find. There will be plenty to eat, however, no matter what time they come. Now forget it all. If there is anything you have to explain, do so briefly when the time comes, but don't consider it beforehand, for the time may not come. Just don't worry about it."
"Oh, Mother, but you look lovely!" cried Fae as they came down the stairs. "And Sylvia looks like a dream! See, Stan. Aren't they both wonderful?"
"Swell!" said Stan, looking solemnly at his mother and sister.
"Why all the glad rags?" asked Paul as Sylvia came into the dining room. "Is this in honor of the bride, or are you trying to outshine her?"
Sylvia looked up and smiled, realizing that no one had told Paul she was going out that night.
"No," she said earnestly. "I've been invited to hear the Messiah tonight at the Academy of Music. Do you think I'm dreadful to go away when Rex may arrive any minute?"
"I certainly do not!" said Paul. "Why should we sit around and wait on his highness till he gets ready to arrive? I'm thinking of going out myself a little while, that is, if mother can spare me. Mother, I thought I'd run over and see Marcia Merrill a little while. Is that all right with you? You could phone me over there and I'd come right over in case Rex arrives. The Merrills are good enough friends to understand in case I have to run away early. Stan, you going to be here? You'll call me the first thing if Rex comes, won't you? Can I depend on you?"
"Sure!" said Stan loftily.
So immediately after dinner Paul vanished.
Sylvia was a bit disappointed. She wanted Paul to meet Rance. But she reflected that perhaps it was just as well, for Mother would have more chance to talk with him.
And almost at once Rance arrived.
She met him with quick color in her cheeks that rivaled the depths of the talisman roses, and they had one minute of meeting that made both of them very happy. Rance looked down at her as though she were something utterly new and wonderful in this world of human beings. As if she were a thousand times more lovely than he had thought her.
Sylvia was shy and grave and sweet. For the moment she had forgotten that Rex and his bride might at any moment arrive and spring a disagreeable impression. Then she heard Fae and Stan talking in the library and she called them.
"I want you to meet my youngest brother and my little sister," she said. "This is Fae, and this is Stan. The older boys aren't here just now."
Fae smiled shyly, and Stan gravely shook his hand and said he was glad to know him. Then he stood there a moment deferentially, till Sylvia sent Fae after her mother.
"I suppose that tennis court out there smothered in snow belongs to you," said Rance to Stan in a friendly tone.
"Well, it's partly mine," said Stan. "We all play a lot when the weather is right. You'll have to come over and try it when spring comes, that is, if you play."
"Sure, I play," said Rance. "Love it. I'd be delighted to come. Right now I challenge you to a set as soon as the weather permits."
Stan grinned.
"It's okay with me," he said. "Our court is supposed to be good when it's in shape."
"All right, that's a date," said Rance Nelius. "Put that down on your calendar, and let me know when the court is ready."
"Okay."
And then Mary Garland came in, greeted the young man, and they all sat down, while Sylvia slipped away to get her hat and coat on and fit on those new garnet gloves most carefully.
Fae had slipped to the sofa beside her mother, nestling down with her mother's arm about her. Stan knew his presence would not be required, but he liked "this new guy," so he stayed to see how he tried out. Not if he could help it were there going to be any more mistakes in this girl-and-boy business in his family! If this man wasn't right for his sister, he wanted to find it out before anything serious could happen. At least until Paul got back from college to stay, he, Stan, was head of the family, and it was up to him to be sure about people. That's what Paul ought to have done in college, and then they wouldn't have had all this trouble about Rex. But of course, nobody ever thought Rex would do a thing like that.
So Stan sat and listened, gravely, grinning now and then at the visitor when he cast a pleasant glance his way or told a funny story.
Mary Garland talked with the young man graciously about the concert they were about to attend; told about the first time she had heard that oratorio given, back in the days when Walter Damrosch was a very young man conducting the orchestra and choral society for the first time; and said what a wonderful impression it had made upon her. She spoke of her own vision of a green valley beside the still, sparkling water that had come when she heard the tender words "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd," and how it had always stayed with her when she read the shepherd's psalm.
"People don't go to these things as much as they used to do when I was young," she said. "I think it is a great loss for the young people. Sylvia has never heard many great concerts, and I am afraid that is my fault. I've had so very many things to attend to. She has never heard the Messiah. I'm so glad you are taking her to hear it tonight. It is so much a part of the Christmastime that I used to think one ought never to miss it."
She asked a few questions about where his home had been and whether he was far from his family this holid
ay time, and he told her briefly how his family was gone and he was far away even from his lifetime acquaintances. They had lived in the West till his mother died, and then when it was all over and he found himself on his own, he had come east because there were some things he wanted to study that he thought could be better done in this university than any other he knew.
It was just then that Sylvia came downstairs ready, looking fairly regal in her fur coat with the gorgeous roses glimpsing out on her shoulder and the little feather nodding over one ear. Mary Garland looked up and rejoiced in the sweet young beauty of her daughter, and Fae, and even Stan, looked at her adoringly.
Then they could hear a taxi come throbbing up to the door and stop, and for an instant Stan thought that must be Rex. Sylvia held her breath, till Rance Nelius glanced at his watch and looked toward the window.
"I guess that must be our taxi," he said. "I told them to be here on time."
"Oh, you shouldn't have bothered to get a taxi," said Sylvia, smiling. "It's a lovely night, even if it is snowing a little. We could have gone in the bus."
"It is snowing pretty hard, lady," said Rance, "and a bus is a sordid equipage for a festive occasion." Then he turned to Mary Garland and said, "I'm so glad to have met you. It's been nice having this little talk with a real mother again." And he spoke to Stan and Fae as if they were real people and not just children. Then they went out to the taxi. Sylvia drew a breath of relief as the taxi rolled down the drive and turned into the street. They were out and away, and Rex and his girl hadn't come to spoil it all. Sylvia was very happy. Now for this evening she would try to forget the blight that had fallen upon their home.
"You have a lovely mother," said the young man. "She makes me think a little of my mother."
"That's nice," said Sylvia. "Yes, she is a lovely mother! She's been just like one of us, as if she were a girl herself with us all. She likes to laugh, and she used to play games with us, even tennis now and then. Yet she's very brave and strong when anything comes along to worry her. She's been a father and mother both since Father died."
"My mother had to be that to me nearly all my life, for my father was killed in an accident when I was a mere baby. It makes a difference in people when they go through hard things. It gives them courage and strength and power. My mother was like that. But I can see now why you are different from a lot of the girls I see everywhere today. With a home like that and a mother like that, it's bound to tell in the children. You're like your mother, do you know it?"
"I'd rather be like my mother than anyone else I know," said Sylvia earnestly. "She's been a wonderful mother."
"I'm eager to meet your older brothers," said Rance. "When do they get home? I'm sure they must be worth meeting."
Sylvia flushed in the darkness of the cab and hesitated.
"Why, my oldest brother is home now. He came last night at dinnertime, and we certainly were glad to see him. I wanted you to meet him, but he had gone out for a few minutes to see an old friend. Rex, my second brother, hasn't come yet. We've been expecting him all day, and I think Mother is worrying a little about him. You see, he drove home with somebody, and we don't know but they may have stopped off somewhere on the way. But we hope he is coming tonight."
Sylvia paused. Was this the time she should tell him about Rex and his getting married? Should she, or should she not?
And then suddenly they were in the city, turning in among the heavy traffic and bright lights of the broad avenue that led to the Academy. People in bright garments were hurrying to the side doors of the Academy, where already there was a long line waiting to go to the top gallery, standing there with the snow coming down thick and fast. Oh, it was lovely! The snow with all the bright lights and the Christmas decorations everywhere, the avenues lit as for a procession. Sylvia hadn't thought much about the snow on the way down, only that it had seemed to shut them in and make it cozy as they rode along and talked. But now it seemed like a lovely drapery, a fleecy curtain between the cars and cabs, lit up with scarlet and green and gold and silver lights. It seemed a fairy world.
On the opposite side of the street was a great stone church lit up for service, and a chime of bells was singing out the old, old story, "Hark, the herald angels sing," "Joy to the world, the Lord is come!" It was very solemn and sweet, and Rance Nelius said, "It's very wonderful when you think of it, that something that happened more than two thousand years ago is being talked of and thought about over the whole civilized world today, isn't it?"
Sylvia's heart gave a glad little thrill to hear him say that, for she had been wondering whether he was a Christian, but she had been too shy to ask. She had been afraid that he might think her a fanatic if she did. But now he was talking about it, and she answered eagerly.
"Oh yes, isn't it wonderful! I was thinking how pretty it is tonight and how it doesn't look as if there was any sin or wrong anywhere. It seems as if all the world was rejoicing in the Lord. But of course, they aren't. Of course, there is a lot of sin going on, after all these years, as there was before the angels sang 'joy to the world.'"
"Yes," said Rance, "I'm afraid there is. But there's a lot of people loving and serving Him, too, don't you think? And even the world has to pause and listen when His story is sung. We are going to hear it tonight. Isn't that something?"
"Yes, it is," said Sylvia. And then suddenly the taxi lurched across the street and drew up near the entrance to the academy, and they got out.
It seemed a new world they had entered as they settled themselves in front gallery seats and looked about on the great hall, with its crimson cushions and curtains and its tiers of galleries above them all the way to the far ceiling. It was fascinating to see it rapidly filling up now, a face at every seat.
Sylvia wasn't a little girl; she was nineteen, but she had a little girl's genuine delight in the scene, for she had not been often to such affairs. Her life had centered around home and school so long that she did not bring a jaded mind to this pleasure tonight. She had never been a part of fashion in the great world, either. Home and school and church. That had been the round, especially since her father had died.
Rance watched her admiringly and saw her delight, thrilled to think she was like that and that he had been able to give her pleasure and witness her joy in it.
Then the great crimson curtain went up, the music began, and they sat entranced.
It was on their way home that it all came back to Sylvia again about Rex and his wife, and her heart almost stood still as it forgot its ecstasy of the evening and remembered possibilities.
As if she had spoken her thoughts aloud, suddenly Rance said, "I hope your brothers will be there by the time we get back. I know it's late, but I would like to meet them, if only for a minute."
Sylvia was very still for a minute. She could hear the big flakes of snow still splashing on the window as they drove along. Then she lifted her head and looked toward her escort.
"I think there is something I ought to tell you," she said in a low voice. "I don't like to, because it's something that breaks my heart, but I guess you should know, especially if there is a likelihood that you will meet them."
"Don't tell me anything that gives you distress," said Rance. "We've had such a happy evening, let it go at that."
"No," said Sylvia. "I think I'd better tell you now that I have said so much, and I think perhaps I'd like you to understand. You see, we've been very much worried for three days, ever since Mother had a letter from my brother Rex saying that he had been married and wanted to bring his wife home. My older brother did not know anything about it till he got home last night, and he's been trying ever since to get in touch with him. Rex is only eighteen and just in the middle of his college course. We don't understand it. He never was silly like that. And we don't know anything about the girl, either. But we suppose they are coming home tonight or tomorrow, and I thought if they should be there when we go in, I'd like you to understand the situation. Rex is so young to be married--but he'
s a dear."
"Oh, you poor child!" said the young man gently. "And you had to go out this evening and try to enjoy a good time with that hanging over you! I'm sorry I caused you that strain."
"Oh, but it was a good thing," said Sylvia, "and I'm so glad I went. It was almost as if God was there. I seemed to get a broader view of the universe and to feel that there is a time surely coming when even such hard troubles as this won't matter anymore, because God is going to wipe all tears away. No, I'm glad I went. But I wanted you to understand if Rex is there."
"Perhaps you'd rather I didn't come in tonight."
"No. I want you to meet my older brother. And Mother will want you to come in, I know."
"Well, I thank you for trusting me with your confidence. I certainly will pray about it tonight and will hope that somehow God will work this out gloriously for you all. I only wish that there were something else that I could do, some way that I could help."
"Thank you," said Sylvia. "You've helped a lot already, taking me away from the thought of it. And there is no help like praying. I'm glad you know how to do that. That will help more than anything else. Rex is a Christian, but I guess somehow he's got away from the Lord, or he wouldn't have done a thing like this to Mother, or to himself, either."
"Well, I'm glad you counted me a friend to tell me, and, of course, it will go no further. I'd like to be a friend you can call upon for help at any time. May I?"
"Why, yes, that would be wonderful," she said softly.
And then the taxi drew up at the Garland home, and their talk was over, but Sylvia was glad that she had told him.
So they went into the house, not knowing what to expect.
Chapter 9
There was a light in the big pleasant living room when they entered the door, and they could see Mary Garland sitting there before the open fire with a book in her lap. But she was not reading. Her face had a faraway look as if she were pondering great matters. Even the children were up idly working at a picture puzzle with the air of killing time till something important would happen.
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