In the High Valley

by Susan Coolidge

  CHAPTER VII.

  THORNS AND ROSES.

  "GEOFF," said Clover as they sat at dinner two days later, "couldn't westart early when we go in to-morrow to meet Rose, and have the morningat St. Helen's? There are quite a lot of little errands to be done, andit's a long time since we saw Poppy or the Hopes."

  "Just as early as you like," replied her husband. "It's a free day, andI am quite at your service."

  So they breakfasted at a quarter before six, and by a quarter past wereon their way to St. Helen's, passing, as Clover remarked, through threezones of temperature; for it was crisply cold when they set out,temperately cool at the lower end of the Ute Pass, and blazing hot onthe sandy plain.

  "We certainly do get a lot of climate for our money out here," observedGeoff.

  They reached the town a little before ten, and went first of all to seeMrs. Marsh, for whom Clover had brought a basket of fresh eggs. Shenever entered that house without being sharply carried back to formerdays, and made to feel that the intervening time was dreamy and unreal,so absolutely unchanged was it. There was the rickety piazza on whichshe and Phil had so often sat, the bare, unhomelike parlor, therocking-chairs swinging all at once, timed as it were to anaccompaniment of coughs; but the occupants were not the same. Many setsof invalids had succeeded each other at Mrs. Marsh's since those olddays; still the general effect was precisely similar.

  Mrs. Marsh, who only was unchanged, gave them a warm welcome. Gratefullittle Clover never had forgotten the many kindnesses shown to her andPhil, and requited them in every way that was in her power. More thanonce when Mrs. Marsh was poorly or overtired, she had carried her offto the High Valley for a rest; and she never failed to pay her a visitwhenever she spent a day at St. Helen's.

  Their next call was at the Hopes'. They found Mrs. Hope darningstockings on the back piazza which commanded a view of the mountainrange. She always claimed the entire credit of Clover's match, declaringthat if she had not matronized her out to the Valley and introduced herand Geoff to each other, they would never have met. Her droll airs ofproprietorship over their happiness were infinitely amusing to Clover.

  "I _think_ we should have got at each other somehow, even if you had notbeen in existence," she told her friend; "marriages are made in Heaven,as we all know. Nobody could have prevented ours."

  "My dear, that is just where you are mistaken. Nothing is easier than toprevent marriages. A mere straw will do it. Look at the countless oldmaids all over the world; and probably nearly every one of them camewithin half an inch of perfect happiness, and just missed it. No,depend upon it, there is nothing like a wise, judicious, discriminatingfriend at such junctures, to help matters along. You may thank me thatGeoff isn't at this moment wedded to some stiff-necked British maiden,and you eating your head off in single-blessedness at Burnet."

  "Rubbish!" said Clover. "Neither of us is capable of it;" but Mrs. Hopestuck to her convictions.

  She was delighted to see them, as she always was, and no less the bottleof beautiful cream, the basket full of fresh lettuces, and the bunch ofMariposa lilies which they had brought. Clover never went into St.Helen's empty-handed.

  Here they took luncheon No. 1,--consisting of sponge-cake andclaret-cup, partaken of while gazing across at Cheyenne Mountain, whichwas at one of its most beautiful moments, all aerial blue streaked withsharp sunshine at the summit. It was the one defect of the High Valley,Clover thought, that it gave no glimpse of Cheyenne.

  Luncheon No. 2 came a little later, with Marian Chase, whom every onestill called "Poppy" from preference and long habit. She was perfectlywell now, but she and her family had grown so fond of St. Helen's thatthere was no longer any talk of their going back to the East. She hadjust had some beautiful California plums sent her by an admirer, andinsisted on Clover's eating them with an accompaniment of biscuits and"natural soda water."

  "I want you and Alice Perham to come out next week for two nights," saidClover, while engaged in this agreeable occupation. "My friend Mrs.Browne arrives to-day, and she is by far the greatest treat we have everhad to offer to any one since we lived in the Valley. You will delightin her, I know. Could you come on Monday in the stage to the Ute Hotel,if we sent the carryall over to meet you?"

  "Why, of course. I never have any engagements when a chance comes forgoing to the dear Valley; and Alice has none, I am pretty sure. It willbe perfectly delightful! Clover, you are an angel,--'the Angel of thePenstamen' I mean to call you," glancing at the great sheaf of purpleand white flowers which Clover had brought. "It's a very good name. Asfor Elsie, she is 'Our Lady of Raspberries;' I never saw such beautiesas she fetched in week before last."

  Some very multifarious shopping for the two households followed, and bythat time it was two o'clock and they were quite ready for luncheon No.3,--soup and sandwiches, procured at a restaurant. They were just comingaway when an open carriage passed them, silk-lined, with a crest on thepanel, jingling curb-chains, and silver-plated harnesses, all after thelatest modern fashion, and drawn by a pair of fine gray horses. Insidewas a young man, who returned a stiff bow to Clover's salutation, and agorgeously gowned young lady with rather a handsome face.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Thurber Wade, I declare," observed Geoffrey. "I heard thatthey were expected."

  "Yes, Mrs. Wade is so pleased to have them come for the summer. We mustgo and call some day, Geoff, when I happen to have on my best bonnet. Doyou think we ought to ask them out to the Valley?"

  "That's just as you please. I don't mind if he doesn't. What finehorses. Aren't you conscious of a little qualm of regret, Clover?"

  "What for? I don't know what you mean. Don't be absurd," was all thereply he received, or in fact deserved.

  And now it was time to go to the train. The minutes seemed long whilethey waited, but presently came the well-known shriek and rumble, andthere was Rose herself, dimpled and smiling at the window, looking not awhit older than on the day of Katy's wedding seven years before. Therewas little Rose too, but she was by no means so unchanged as her mother,and certainly no longer little, surprisingly tall on the contrary, withher golden hair grown brown and braided in a pig-tail, actually apig-tail. She had the same bloom and serenity, however, and the samesedate, investigating look in her eyes. There was Mr. Browne too, but hewas a brief joy, for there was only time to shake hands and exchangedates and promises of return, before the train started and bore him awaytoward Pueblo.

  "Now," said Rose, who seemed quite unquenched by her three days oftravel, "don't let's utter one word till we are in the carriage, andthen don't let's stop one moment for two weeks."

  "In the first place," she began, as the carryall, mounting the hill,turned into Monument Avenue, where numbers of new houses had been builtof late years, Queen Anne cottages in brick and stone, timber, andconcrete, with here and there a more ambitious "villa" of pink granite,all surrounded with lawns and rosaries and vine-hung verandas andtinkling fountains. "In the first place I wish to learn where all thesepeople and houses come from. I was told that you lived in a lodge in thewilderness, but though I see plenty of lodges the wilderness seemswanting. Is this really an infant settlement?"

  "It really is. That is, it hasn't come of age yet, being not quitetwenty-one years old. Oh, you've no notion about our Western towns,Rose. They're born and grown up all in a minute, like Herculesstrangling the snakes in his cradle. I don't at all wonder that you aresurprised."

  "'Surprised' doesn't express it. 'Flabbergasted,' though low, comesnearer my meaning. I have been breathless ever since we left Albany.First there was that enormous Chicago which knocked me all of a heap,then Denver, then that enchanting ride over the Divide, and now this!Never did I see such flowers or such colored rocks, and never did anyone breathe such air. It sweeps all the dust and fatigue out of one in aminute. Boston seems quite small and dull in comparison, doesn't it,Roeslein?"

  "It isn't so big, but I love it the most," replied that small personfrom the front seat, where she sat soberly taking all things in."Mamma
, Uncle Geoff says I may drive when we get to the foot of a longhill we are just coming to. You won't be afraid, will you?"

  "N-o; not if Uncle Geoff will keep his eye on the reins and stand readyto seize them if the horses begin to run. Rose just expresses myfeelings," she continued; "but this is as beautiful as it is big. Whatis the name of that enchanting mountain over there,--Cheyenne? Why,yes,--that is the one that you used to write about in your letters whenyou first came out, I remember. It never made much impression onme,--mountains never seem high in letters, somehow, but now I don'twonder. It's the loveliest thing I ever saw."

  Clover was much pleased at Rose's appreciation of her favorite mountain,and also with the intelligent way in which she noted everything theypassed. Her eyes were as quick as her tongue; chattering all the time,she yet missed nothing of interest. The poppy-strewn plain, the greenlevels of the mesa delighted her; so did the wide stretches of bluedistance, and she screamed with joy at the orange and red pinnacles inOdin's Garden.

  "It is a land of wonders," she declared. "When I think how all my life Ihave been content to amble across the Common, and down Winter Street toHovey's, and now and then by way of adventure take the car to the BackBay, and that I felt all the while as if I were getting the cream andpick of everything, I am astonished at my own stupidity. Rose, are younot glad I did not let you catch whooping cough from Margaret Lyon? youwere bent on doing it, you remember. If I had given you your way weshould not be here now."

  Rose only smiled in reply. She was used to her little mother's vagariesand treated them in general with an indulgent inattention.

  The sun was quite gone from the ravines, but still lingered on thesnow-powdered peaks above, when the carriage climbed the last steepzigzag and drew up before the "Hut," whose upper windows glinted withthe waning light. Rose looked about her and drew a long breath ofsurprise and pleasure.

  "It isn't a bit like what I thought it would be," she said; "but it'sheaps and heaps more beautiful. I simply put it at the head of all theplaces I ever saw." Then Elsie came running on to the porch, and Rosejumped out into her arms.

  "I thank the goodness and the grace That on my birth has smiled, And brought me to this blessed place A happy Boston child!"

  she cried, hugging Elsie rapturously. "You dear thing! how well youlook! and how perfect it all is up here! And this is Mr. Page, whom Ihave known all about ever since the Hillsover days! and this is dearlittle Geoff! Clover, his eyes are exactly like yours! And where is_your_ baby, Elsie?"

  "Little wretch! she _would_ go to sleep. I told her you were coming, andI did all I could, short of pinching, to keep her awake,--sang, andrepeated verses, and danced her up and down, but it was all of no use.She would put her knuckles in her eyes, and whimper and fret, and atlast I had to give in. Babies are perfectly unmanageable when they aresleepy."

  "Most of us are. It's just as well. I can't half take it in as it is. Itis much better to keep something for to-morrow. The drive was perfect,and the Valley is twice as beautiful as I expected it to be. And now Iwant to go into the house."

  Elsie had devoted her day to setting forth the Hut to advantage. She andRoxy had been to the very top of the East Canyon for flowers, andreturned loaded with spoil. Bunches of coreopsis and vermilion-tippedpainter's-brush adorned the chimney-piece; tall spikes of yucca rosefrom an Indian jar in one corner of the room, and a splendid sheaf ofyellow columbines from another; fresh kinnikinick was looped andwreathed about the pictures; and on the dining-table stood, mostbeautiful and fragile of all, a bowlful of Mariposa lilies, theirdelicate, lilac-streaked bells poised on stems so slender that thefairy shapes seemed to float in air, supported at their own sweet will.There were roses, too, and fragrant little knots of heliotrope andmignonette. With these Rose was familiar; the wild flowers were all newto her.

  She ran from vase to vase in a rapture. They could scarcely get herupstairs to take off her things. Such a bright evening followed! Cloverdeclared that she had not laughed so much in all the seven years sincethey parted. Rose seemed to fit at once and perfectly into the life ofthe place, while at the same time she brought the breath of her own morevaried and different life to freshen and widen it. They all agreed thatthey had never had a visitor who gave so much and enjoyed so much. Sheand Geoffrey made friends at once, greatly to Clover's delight, andClarence took to her in a manner astonishing to his wife, for he was aptto eschew strangers, and escape them when he could.

  They all woke in the morning to a sense of holiday.

  "Boys," said Elsie at breakfast, "this isn't at all a common, every-dayday, and I don't want to do every-day things in it. I want something newand unusual to happen. Can't you abjure those wretched beasts of yoursfor once, and come with us to that sweet little canyon at the far end ofthe Ute, where we went the summer after I was married? We want to showit to Rose, and the weather is simply perfect."

  "Yes, if you'll give us half an hour or so to ride up and speak toManuel."

  "All right. It will take at least as long as that to get ready."

  So Choo Loo hastily broiled chickens and filled bottles with coffee andcream; and by half-past nine they were off, children and all, some onhorseback, and some in the carryall with the baskets, to Elsie's "sweetlittle canyon," over which Pike's Peak rose in lonely majesty like asentinel at an outpost, and where flowers grew so thickly that, as Rosewrote her husband, "it was harder to find the in-betweens than theblossoms." They came back, tired, hungry, and happy, just at nightfall;so it was not till the second day that Rose met the Youngs, about whomher curiosity was considerably excited. It seemed so odd, she said, tohave "only neighbors," and it made them of so much consequence.

  They had been asked to dinner to meet Rose, which was a very formal andfestive invitation for the High Valley, though the dinner must perforcebe much as usual, and the party was inevitably the same. Imogen feltthat it was an occasion, and wishing to do credit to it, she unpacked agown which had not seen the light before since her arrival, and whichhad done duty as a dinner dress for two or three years at Bideford. Itwas of light blue mousselaine-de-laine, made with a "half-high top" andelbow sleeves, and trimmed with cheap lace. A necklace of round coralbeads adorned her throat, and a comb of the same material her hair,which was done up in a series of wonderful loops filleted with narrowblue ribbons. She carried a pink fan. Lionel, who liked bright colors,was charmed at the effect; and altogether she set out in good spiritsfor the walk down the Pass, though she was prepared to be afraid ofRose, of whose brilliancy she had heard a little too much to make theidea of meeting her quite comfortable.

  The party had just gathered in the sitting-room as they entered. Cloverand Elsie were in pretty cotton dresses, as usual, and Rose, followingtheir lead, had put on what at home she would have considered a morninggown, of linen lawn, white, with tiny bunches of forget-me-notsscattered over it, and a jabot of lace and blue ribbon. These toilettesseemed unduly simple to Imogen, who said within herself, complacently,"There is one thing the Americans don't seem to understand, and that isthe difference between common dressing and a regular dinnerdress,"--preening herself the while in the sky-blue mousselaine-de-laine,and quite unconscious that Rose was inwardly remarking, "My! where _did_she get that gown? I never saw anything like it. It must have been madefor Mrs. Noah, some years before the ark. And her hair! just the arkstyle, too, and calculated to frighten the animals into good behaviorand obedience during the bad weather. Well, I put it at the head of allthe extraordinary things I ever saw."

  It is just as well, on the whole, that people are not able to read eachother's thoughts in society.

  "You've only just come to America, I hear," said Rose, taking a chairnear Imogen. "Do you begin to feel at home yet?"

  "Oh, pretty well for that. I don't fancy that one ever gets to be quiteat home anywhere out of their own country. It's very different over herefrom England, of course."

  "Yes, but some parts of America are more different than some otherparts
. You haven't seen much of us as yet."

  "No, but all the parts I have seen seemed very much alike."

  "The High Valley and New York, for example."

  "Oh, I wasn't thinking of New York. I mean the plains and mountains andthe Western towns. We didn't stop at any of them, of course; but seenfrom the railway they all look pretty much the same,--wooden houses, youknow, and all that."

  "What astonished us most was the distance," said Rose. "Of course we alllearned from our maps, when we were at school, just how far it is acrossthe continent; but I never realized it in the least till I saw it. Itseemed so wonderful to go on day after day and never get to the end!"

  "Only about half-way to the end," put in Clover. "That question ofdistance is a great surprise; and if it perplexes you, Rose, it isn'twonderful that it should perplex foreigners. Do you recollect thatEnglishman, Geoff, whom we met at the _table d'hote_ at Llanberis, whenwe were in Wales, and who accounted for the Charleston earthquake bysaying that he supposed it had something to do with those hot springsclose by."

  "What hot springs _did_ he mean?"

  "I am sure you would never guess unless I told you. The hot springs inthe Yellowstone Park, to be sure,--simply those, and nothing more! Andwhen I explained that Charleston and the Yellowstone were about asdistant from each other as Siberia and the place we were in, he onlystared and remarked, 'Oh, I think you must be mistaken.'"

  "And are they so far apart, then?" asked Imogen, innocently.

  "Oh, Moggy, Moggy! what were your geography teachers thinking about?"cried her brother. "It seems sometimes as if America were entirely leftout of the maps used in English schools."

  "Lionel," said his sister, "how can you say such things? It isn't so atall; but of course we learned more about the important countries."Imogen spoke quite artlessly; she had no intention of being rude.

  "Great Scott!" muttered Clarence under his breath, while Rose flashed alook at Clover.

  "Of course," she said, sweetly, "Burmah and Afghanistan and New Zealandand the Congo States _would_ naturally interest you more,--large heathenpopulations to Christianize and exterminate. There is nothing like fireand sword to establish a bond."

  "Oh, I didn't mean that. Of course America is much larger than thosecountries."

  "'Plenty of us such as we are'" quoted the wicked Rose.

  "And pretty good what there is of us," added Clover, glad of theappearance of dinner just then to create a diversion.

  "That's quite a dreadful little person," remarked Rose, as they stood atthe doorway two hours later, watching the guests walk up the trail underthe light of a glorious full moon. "Her mind is just one inch across.You keep falling off the edge and hurting yourself. It's sad that sheshould be your only neighbor. I don't seem to like her a bit, and Ipredict that you will yet have some dreadful sort of a row with her,Clovy."

  "Indeed we shall not; nothing of the kind. She's really a good littlething at bottom; this angularity and stiffness that you object to ischiefly manner. Wait till she has been here long enough to learn theways and wake up, and you will like her."

  "I'll wait," said Rose, dryly. "How much time should you say would benecessary, Clover? A hundred years? I should think it would take atleast as long as that."

  "Lionel's a dear fellow. We are all very fond of him."

  "I can understand your being fond of _him_ easily enough. Imogen! what aname for just that kind of girl. 'Image' it ought to be. What a figureof fun she was in that awful blue gown!"

  The two weeks of Rose's visit sped only too rapidly. There was so muchthat they wanted to show her, and there were so many people whom theywanted her to see, and so many people who, as soon as they saw her,became urgent that she should do this and that with them, that life soonbecame a tangle of impossibilities. Rose was one of those charmers thatcannot be hid. She had been a belle all her days, and she would be sotill she died of old age, as Elsie told her. Her friends of the HighValley gloried in her success; but all the time they had a privatelonging to keep her more to themselves, as one retires with two or threeto enjoy a choice dainty of which there is not enough to go round in alarger company. They took her to the Cheyenne Canyons and the top ofPike's Peak; they carried her over the Marshall Pass and to many smallerplaces less known to fame, but no less charming in their way.Invitations poured in from St. Helen's, to lunch, to dinner, toafternoon teas; but of these Rose would none. She could lunch and dinein Boston, she declared, but she might never come to Colorado again, andwhat she thirsted for was canyons, and not less than one a day wouldcontent her insatiable appetite for them.

  But though she would not go to St. Helen's, St. Helen's in a measurecame to her. Marian Chase and Alice made their promised visit; Dr. andMrs. Hope came out more than once, and Phil continually; while smartBostonians whom Clover had never heard of turned up at Canyon Creek andthe Ute Valley and drove over to call, having heard that Mrs. DenistonBrowne was staying there. The High Valley became used to the roll ofwheels and the tramp of horses' feet, and for the moment seemed asociable, accessible sort of place to which it was a matter of coursethat people should repair. It was oddly different from the customaryorder of things, but the change was enlivening, and everybody enjoyed itwith one exception.

  This exception was Imogen Young. She was urged to join some of theexcursions made by her friends below, but on one excuse or another sherefused. She felt shy and left out where all the rest were sowell-acquainted and so thoroughly at ease, and preferred to remain athome; but all the same, to have the others so gay and busy gave her asense of loneliness and separation which was painful to bear. Clovertried more than once to persuade her out of her solitary mood; but shewas too much occupied herself and too absorbed to take much time forcoaxing a reluctant guest, and the others dispensed with her companyquite easily; in fact, they were too busy to notice her absence much orask questions. So the fortnight, which passed so quickly and brilliantlyat the Hut, and was always afterward alluded to as "that delightful timewhen Rose was here," was anything but delightful at the "Hutlet," wherepoor Imogen sat homesick and forlorn, feeling left alone on one side ofall the pleasant things, scarcely realizing that it was her own choiceand doing, and wishing herself back in Devonshire.

  "Lion seems quite taken up with these new people and _that_ Mrs.Browne," she reflected. "He's always going off with them to one place oranother. I might as well be back in Bideford for all the use I am tohim." This was unjust, for Lionel was anxious and worried over hissister's depressed looks and indisposition to share in the pleasuresthat were going on; but Imogen just then saw things through a gloomymedium, and not quite as they were. She felt dull and heavy-hearted, anddid not seem able to rouse herself from her lassitude and weariness.

  Out of the whole party no one was so perfectly pleased with hersurroundings as the smaller Rose. Everything seemed to suit the littlemaid exactly. She made a delightful playfellow for the babies, tellingthem fairy stories by the dozen, and teaching them new games, andwashing and dressing Phillida with all the gravity and decorum of an oldnurse. They followed her about like two little dogs, and never left herside for a moment if they could possibly help it. All was fish that cameto her happy little net, whether it was playing with little Geoff, goingon excursions with the elders, scrambling up the steep side-canyonsunder Phil's escort in search of flowers and curiosities, or ridingsober old Marigold to the Upper Valley as she was sometimes allowed todo. The only cloud in her perfect satisfaction was that she must someday go away.

  "It won't be very pleasant when I get back to Boston, and don't haveanything to do but just walk down Pinckney Street with Mary Anne toschool, and slide a little bit on the Common when the snow comes andthere aren't any big boys about, will it, mamma?" she said,disconsolately. "I sha'n't feel as if that were a great deal, I think."

  "I am afraid the High Valley is a poor preparation for West CedarStreet," laughed Rose. "It _will_ seem a limited career to both of us atfirst. But cheer up, Poppet; I'm going to put you into a dancing-classthi
s winter, and very likely at Christmas-time papa will treat us bothto a Moral Drayma. There _are_ consolations, even in Boston."

  "That 'even in Boston' is the greatest compliment the High Valley everreceived," said Clover, who happened to be within hearing. "Such amoment will never come to it again."

  And now the last day came, as last days will. Mr. Browne returned fromMexico, with forty-eight hours to spare for enjoyment, which intervalthey employed in showing him the two things that Rose lovedmost,--namely, the High Valley from top to bottom, and the NorthCheyenne Canyon. The last luncheon was taken at Mrs. Hope's, who hadcollected a few choice spirits in honor of the occasion, and then theyall took the Roses to the train, and sent them off loaded with fruit andflowers.

  "Miss Young was extraordinarily queer and dismal last night," said Roseto Clover as they stood a little aside from the rest on the platform. "Ican't quite see what ails her. She looks thinner than when we came, anddoesn't seem to know how to smile; depend upon it she's going to be ill,or something. I wish you had a pleasanter neighbor,--especially as she'slikely to be the only one for some time to come."

  "Poor thing. I've neglected her of late," replied Clover, penitently. "Imust make up for it now that you are going away. Really, I couldn'ttake my time for her while you were here, Rosy."

  "And I certainly couldn't let you. I should have resented it highly ifyou had. Oh dear,--there's that whistle. We really have got to go. Ihoped to the last that something might happen to keep us another day. Ohdear Clover,--I wish we lived nearer each other. This country of ours isa great deal too wide."

  "Geoff," said Clover, as they slowly climbed the hill, "I never feltbefore that the High Valley was too far away from people, but somehow Ido to-night. It is quite terrible to have Rose go, and to feel that Imay not see her again for years."

  "Did you want to go with her?"

  "And leave you? No, dearest. But I am quite sure that there are nodistances in Heaven, and when we get there we shall find that we all areto live next door to each other. It will be part of the happiness."

  "Perhaps so. Meanwhile I am thankful that my happiness lives close to menow. I don't have to wait till Heaven for that, which is the reasonperhaps that for some years past Earth has seemed so very satisfactoryto me."

  "Geoff, what an uncommonly nice way you have of putting things," saidClover, nestling her head comfortably on his arm. "On the whole I don'tthink the High Valley is so _very_ far away."