A Daughter of the Forest

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER XI

  A DISCLOSURE

  As the sun rose, Margot came out of her own room, fresh from herplunge that had washed all drowsiness away, as the good sleep had alsobanished all perplexities. Happy at all times, she was most so atmorning, when, to her nature-loving eyes, the world seemed to havebeen made anew and doubly beautiful. The gay little melodies she hadpicked up from Pierre, or Angelique--who had been a sweet singer inher day--and now again from Adrian, were always on her lips at such anhour, and were dear beyond expression to her uncle's ears.

  But this morning she seemed to be singing them to the empty air. Therewas nobody in the living room, nor in the "study-library," as thehousekeeper called the room of books, nor even in the kitchen. Thatwas oddest of all! For there, at least, should Angelique have been,frying, or stewing, or broiling, as the case might be. Yet the coffeestood simmering, at one corner of the hearth and a bowl of eggs waitedready for the omelet which Angelique could make to perfection.

  "Why, how still it is! As if everybody had gone away and left theisland alone."

  She ran to the door and called: "Adrian!"

  No answer.

  "Pierre! Angelique! Where is everybody?"

  Then she saw Angelique coming down the slope and ran to meet her. Withone hand the woman carried a brimming pail of milk and with the otherdragged by his collar the reluctant form of Reynard, who appeared asguilty and subdued as if he had been born a slave not free. To makematters more difficult, Meroude was surreptitiously helping herself toa breakfast from the pail and thereby ruining its contents for otheruses.

  "Oh! the plague of a life with such beasts! And him the worst o' theyall. The ver' next time my Pierre goes cross-lake, that fox goes or Ido! There's no room on the island for the two of us. No. Indeed no.The harm comes of takin' in folks and beasties and friendin' them 'atdon't deserve it. What now, think you?"

  Margot had run the faster, as soon as she descried poor Reynard'sabject state, and had taken him under her own protection, whichimmediately restored him to his natural pride and noble bearing.

  "I think nothing evil of my pet, believe that! See the beauty now!That's the difference between harsh words and loving ones. If you'donly treat the 'beasties' as well as you do me, Angelique dear, you'dhave less cause for scolding. What I think now is--speckled rooster.Right?"

  "Aye. Dead as dead; and the feathers still stickin' to the villain'sjaws. What's the life of such brutes to that o' good fowls? Pst!Meroude! Scat! Well, if it's milk you will, milk you shall!" and,turning angrily about, Snowfoot's mistress dashed the entire contentsof her pail over the annoying cat.

  Margot laughed till the tears came. "Why, Angelique! only the otherday, in that quaint old 'Book of Beauty' uncle has, I read how a Queenof Naples, and some noted Parisian beauties, used baths of milk fortheir complexions; but poor Meroude's a hopeless case, I fear."

  Angelique's countenance took on a grim expression. "Mistress Meroude'sgot a day's job to clean herself, the greedy. It's not her nose'll goin the pail another mornin'. No. No, indeed."

  "And it was so full. Yet that's the same Snowfoot who was to give usno more, because of the broken glass. Angelique, where's uncle?"

  "How should I tell? Am I set to spy the master's ins and outs?"

  "Funny Angelique! You're not set to do it, but you can usually tellthem. And where's Adrian? I've called and called, but nobody answers.I can't guess where they all are. Even Pierre is out of sight, andhe's mostly to be found at the kitchen door when meal time comes."

  "There, there, child. You can ask more questions than old Angeliquecan answer. But the breakfast. That's a good thought. So be. Whisk inand mix the batter cakes for the master's eatin'. 'Tis he, foolishman, finds they have better savor from Margot's fingers than mine.Simple one, with all his wisdom."

  "It's love gives them savor, sweet Angelique! and the desire to see mea proper housewife. I wonder why he cares about that, since you arehere to do such things."

  "Ah! The 'I wonders!' and the 'Is its?' of a maid! They set the headawhirl. The batter cakes, my child. I see the master comin' down thehill this minute."

  Margot paused long enough to caress Tom, the eagle, who met her on thepath, then sped indoors, leaving Reynard to his own devices andAngelique's not too tender mercies. But she put all her energy intothe task assigned her and proudly placed a plate of her uncle'sfavorite dainty before him when he took his seat at table. Till thenshe had not noticed its altered arrangement, and even her guardian'scoveted: "Well done, little housekeeper!" could not banish the suddenfear that assailed her.

  "Why, what does it mean? Where is Adrian? Where Pierre? Why are onlydishes for three?"

  "Pst! my child! Hast been askin' questions in the sleep? Sure, youhave ever since your eyes flew open. Say your grace and eat your meat,and let the master rest."

  "Yes, darling. Angelique is wise. Eat your breakfast as usual, andafterward I will tell you all--that you should know."

  "But, I cannot eat. It chokes me. It seems so awfully still andstrange and empty. As I should think it might be, were somebody dead."

  Angelique's scant patience was exhausted. Not only was her loyal hearttried by her master's troubles, but she had had added labor toaccomplish. During all that summer two strong and, at least one,willing lads had been at hand to do the various chores pertaining toall country homes, however isolated. That morning she had brought inher own supply of fire-wood, filled her buckets from the spring,attended the poultry, fed the oxen, milked Snowfoot, wrestled over theiniquity of Reynard and grieved at the untimely death of the speckledrooster: "When he would have made such a lovely fricasee, yes. Indeed,'twas a sinful waste!"

  Though none of these tasks were new or arduous to her, she had notperformed them during the past weeks, save and except the care of hercow. That she had never entrusted to anybody, not even the master; andit was to spare him that she had done some of the things he meant toattend to later. Now she had reached her limit.

  "Angelique wants her breakfast, child. She has been long astir. Afterthat the deluge!" quoted Mr. Dutton, with an attempt at lightnesswhich did not agree with his real depression.

  Margot made heroic efforts to act as usual but they ended in failure,and as soon as might be her guardian pushed back his chair and shepromptly did the same.

  "Now I can ask as many questions as I please, can't I? First, whereare they?"

  "They have gone across the lake, southward, I suppose. Toward whateverplace or town Adrian selects. He will not come back but Pierre will doso, after he has guided the other to some safe point beyond the woods.How soon I do not know, of course."

  "Gone! Without bidding me good-bye? Gone to stay? Oh! uncle, how couldhe? I know you didn't like him but I did. He was----"

  Margot dropped her face in her hands and sobbed bitterly. Then ashamedof her unaccustomed tears she ran out of the house and as far from itas she could. But even the blue herons could give her no amusement,though they stalked gravely up the river bank and posed beside her,where she lay prone and disconsolate in Harmony Hollow. Her squirrelssaw and wondered, for she had no returning chatter for them, even whenthey chased one another over her prostrate person and playfully pulledat her long hair.

  "He was the only friend I ever had that was not old and wise insorrow. It was true he seemed to bring a shadow with him and while hewas here I sometimes wished he would go, or had never come; yet nowthat he has--oh! it's so awfully, awfully lonesome. Nobody to talkwith about my dreams and fancies, nobody to talk nonsense, nobody toteach me any more songs--nobody but just old folks and animals! And hewent, he went without a word or a single good-bye!"

  It was, indeed, Margot's first grief; and the fact that her latecomrade could leave her so coolly, without even mentioning his plan,hurt her very deeply. But, after awhile, resentment at Adrian'sseeming neglect almost banished her loneliness; and, sitting up, shestared at Xanthippe, poised on one leg before her, apparently asleepbut really waiting for anything which might turn up in the
shape ofdainties.

  "Oh! you sweet vixen! but you needn't pose. There's no artist here nowto sketch you, and I don't care, not very much, if there isn't. Afterall my trying to do him good, praising and blaming and petting, if hewas impolite enough to go as he did---- Well, no matter!"

  While this indignation lasted she felt better, but as soon as she cameonce more in sight of the clearing and of her uncle finishing one ofAdrian's uncompleted tasks, her loneliness returned with double force.It had almost the effect of bodily illness and she had no experienceto guide her. With a fresh burst of tears she caught her guardian'shand and hid her face on his shoulder.

  "Oh! it's so desolate. So empty. Everything's so changed. Even theHollow is different and the squirrels seem like strangers. If he hadto go, why did he ever, ever come!"

  "Why, indeed!"

  Mr. Dutton was surprised and frightened by the intensity of her grief.If she could sorrow in this way for a brief friendship, what untoldmisery might not life have in store for her? There must have been someserious blunder in his training if she were no better fitted than thisto face trouble; and for the first time it occurred to him that heshould not have kept her from all companions of her own age.

  "Margot!"

  The sternness of his tone made her look up and calm herself.

  "Y-es, uncle."

  "This must stop. Adrian went by my invitation. Because I could nolonger permit your association. Between his household and ours is awrong beyond repair. He cannot help that he is his father's son, butbeing such he is an impossible friend for your father's daughter. Ishould have sent him away, at my very first suspicion of his identity,but--I want to be just. It has been the effort of my life to learnforgiveness. Until the last I would not allow myself even to believewho he was, but gave him the benefit of the chance that his name mightbe of another family. When I did know--there was no choice. He had togo."

  Margot watched his face, as he spoke, with a curious feeling that thiswas not the loved and loving uncle she had always known but astranger. There were wrinkles and scars she had never noticed, abitterness that made the voice an unfamiliar one, and a weariness inthe droop of the figure leaning upon the hoe which suggested an agedand heart-broken man.

  Why, only yesterday, it seemed, Hugh Dutton was the very type of astalwart woodlander, with the grace of a finished and untiringscholar, making the man unique. Now---- If Adrian had done this thing,if his mere presence had so altered her beloved guardian, then letAdrian go! Her arms went around the man's neck and her kisses showeredupon his cheeks, his hands, even his bent white head.

  "Uncle, uncle! Don't look like that! Don't. He's gone and shall nevercome back. Everything's gone, hasn't it? Even that irreparable past,of which I'd never heard. Why, if I'd dreamed, do you suppose I'd evenever have spoken to him? No, indeed. Why you, the tip of your smallestfinger, the smallest lock of your hair, is worth more than a thousandAdrians! I was sorry he'd treated me so rudely. But now I'm glad,glad, glad. I wouldn't listen to him now, not if he said good-byeforever and ever. I love you, uncle, best of all the world, and youlove me. Let's be just as we were before any strangers came. Come,let's go out on the lake."

  He smiled at her extravagance and abruptness. The times when they hadgone canoeing together had been their merriest, happiest times. Itseemed to her that it needed only some such outing to restore theformer conditions of their life.

  "Not to-day, dearest."

  "Why not? The potatoes won't hurt and it's so lovely."

  "There are other matters, more important than potatoes. I have putthem off too long. Now--Margot, do you love me?"

  "Why--uncle!"

  "Because there is somebody whom you must love even more dearly. Yourfather."

  "My--father! My father? Of course; though he is dead."

  "No, Margot. He is still alive."