ikY* 1 ue
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET 
 
 BY 
 
 CARROLL WINCHESTER 
 
 ' O them child of many prayers, 
 Lite hath quicksands, life hath snares.' 
 
 BOSTON 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK CHARLES T. pILLINGHAM 
 1880
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 1880, 
 BT LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 
 Ml Rights Reserved. 
 
 Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
 No. 4 Pearl Street.
 
 CONTENTS: 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 A SUMMER'S DAY, 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A SUMMER EVENING, . . 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM, 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN, . . . . 54 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE WEDDING, 75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL, .... 85 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE, 101 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 HAPPY DAYS, 113 
 
 17821?!
 
 O CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A NEW WORLD, 125 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE SELECT FEW, ....... 149 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MRS. HOWLAND IN A NEW R6LE, .... 165 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN, 202 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST, 222 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OUTREMER 239 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 EDGE-TOOLS, 258 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A LAST WALK, 272
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 A SUMMER'S DAY. 
 
 FIVE o'clock, on an August afternoon. Under 
 the branches of "the great elm lay an island of 
 cool, deep green, in contrast with the vivid color 
 without, but flecked with bits of light, as the 
 leaves parted in the soft breeze. The two girls 
 sitting on the bench which circled the huge tree- 
 trunk looked as if they were enjoying to the full 
 the peace and loveliness about them, each in her 
 own way, one with a piece of fancy-work, the 
 other with a book, the final reward of the day's 
 labor. 
 
 The summer visitors at Hartfield, who some- 
 times stopped, as they returned from their af- 
 ternoon drive, for the strawberries, and the but- 
 ter and the cream, for which the Anderson farm 
 was famous, quite envied the tranquil calm per- 
 vading everything about the place, and said, as 
 they drove away, " Really, it is rather an enviable 
 
 7
 
 8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 life those girls lead at that beautiful farm-house. 
 No hard work about it, evidently ; for in those 
 pretty print dresses they look as fresh as their 
 fruit. And who do you suppose suggested to 
 them what an apotheosis of butter it is to lay it 
 on the grape-leaf?" And it never occurred to 
 them that the delightful afternoon's leisure had 
 been earned by a morning of work which would 
 have made every city-bred bone in their bodies 
 ache. 
 
 For a day at the Anderson farm-house was a 
 long one, beginning sometimes before the purple 
 light on the mountain had changed to crimson. 
 At an hour known only to herself and the birds 
 came a heavy step on the stairs, and the kitchen 
 shutters were thrown open by Nancy. The step 
 had been a light one when she first came to the 
 farm, a mere girl, half frightened and very proud, 
 to help the young farmer's pretty wife ; now, as 
 a middle-aged woman, she was part and parcel of 
 the household, and that wide, sunny kitchen would, 
 she hoped, be her home for the rest of her days. 
 
 Not very long after her appeared the farmer. 
 
 "No very great need nowadays," he said, 
 " that he should be up with the sun." Still 
 his eyes were open, and he might as well use 
 them to see what, after all, was the pleasantest 
 part of the day. 
 
 But no need at all for Hester and the girls
 
 A SUMMER S DAY. 9 
 
 to bestir themselves quite so early. The men 
 might be the better for his eye over them, 
 but with Nancy up and doing they could afford 
 to take their ease. Ease to Mrs. Anderson did 
 not mean lying in .bed on a bright summer 
 morning, and soon the house was fairly awake ; 
 the mother in her dairy, to receive the pails of 
 milk, and Rachel here and there among her poul- 
 try, and then with a helping hand to Nancy in 
 the last preparations for breakfast. 
 
 On this particular morning, as they all gath- 
 ered from dairy and barn and chicken-yard, at the 
 sound of the big bell rung by Nancy on the porch, 
 there was a vacant place at the breakfast-table. 
 
 David coming in, with a kindly, gruff " good- 
 morning," glanced at the chair next his, and said, 
 " Madge not well ? " And then his uncle fol- 
 lowed with, " Where's the child this morning ? " 
 Nancy, who was setting a dish on the table, has- 
 tened to say, " She was so tired, the dear thing, 
 last night, that she had to take a little extry sleep 
 this mornin'." And Rachel, as if she were the 
 person to apologize for Madge's shortcomings, 
 added, " I thought she might sleep another half- 
 hour ; we did not need her this morning, mother 
 and I." 
 
 " Well, well," her father said, " I do believe I'm 
 the only one of us who doesn't think that Madge 
 has got to be kept in cotton-wool. I shall have
 
 IO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 to speak up very decided to her. It will never do 
 to let her get into such easy ways." 
 
 " Where was she last evening ? " David asked. 
 " Seems to me they are very gay up at Mrs. Lee's 
 lately." 
 
 " Miss Lee has had the house full of friends, 
 and loves to have Madge come up to help." 
 
 " Help bake the cake, or what ? " her father 
 said, rather discontentedly. " I shouldn't think a 
 little girl off a farm could do much about enter- 
 taining city folks." 
 
 " City folks must be hard to suit, if they don't 
 find Madge more entertaining than most," David 
 said aside to Rachel. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson began to look a little disturbed, 
 as if uncertain which side to take first, when the 
 sound of a quick step was heard on the stair, a 
 girl's voice singing as she came, and Madge ap- 
 peared. Looking quite sure of bringing her wel- 
 come with her, and giving a kiss to father and 
 mother as she passed, she slipped into her seat 
 by David with a saucy little gesture, in answer to 
 his sober " good-morning." 
 
 " Rachel, what did you let me sleep so for ? I 
 dare say you and mother have been getting into 
 all sorts of difficulties without me. Nancy, these 
 cakes aren't half as nice as if I had made them." 
 
 Nancy chuckled. " Good as old folks can 
 make, dear, when there ain't nobody to help 'em."
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. II 
 
 " Little girls who sit up late at night have to 
 leave their work for somebody else to do in the 
 morning," her father said. 
 
 " Now it's every bit Rachel's fault, for I had 
 my eyes all ready to open at a minute's warning. 
 And oh, daddy dear, we had such a lovely time 
 yesterday ! a whole party of us in the buckboard ! 
 We went over the hill-road and back by the glen, 
 and did not get home to tea at Mrs. Lee's till 
 nine o'clock, it was such fun ! " 
 
 " I thought it a great deal better fun to have 
 my tea at six," her father said, as he pushed his 
 chair back. " I'm glad you had a good time, 
 Maggie dear ; but don't stay away often we 
 want you at home." 
 
 A smile passed between Rachel and her moth- 
 er, who knew very well that if a feal reproof was 
 to be given to Madge, it would not come from the 
 father. 
 
 Breakfast over, the two girls went on with their 
 usual morning's work of washing cups and sau- 
 cers, dusting and arranging for the day, Madge 
 talking all the while of yesterday and her delight- 
 ful drive. 
 
 " And they were all so amusing," she said. " I 
 wonder, Rachel, if people always are agreeable 
 when they live in a city." 
 
 " They can't be so very different from people 
 who live in the country. There are dull people 
 and amusing ones everywhere, I suppose."
 
 12 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " Precious few amusing ones in Hartfield. I 
 think there must be some way of being taught 
 how to talk, and be agreeable about nothing at 
 all." 
 
 " What do you mean, Madge ? " Rachel said, 
 over her shoulder from the closet she was ar- 
 ranging. " If there's nothing to talk about, I 
 should think it showed better sense to keep 
 quiet." 
 
 "That's just what I don't like. There is our 
 David, he is as sensible as he can be. If he has 
 anything to tell he is very pleasant, but then he 
 can just as well sit for an hour without speaking. 
 I can't bear to have people silent, it embarrasses 
 me so." 
 
 " Then, I'm sure I should think I must be the 
 most embarrassing companion you could have." 
 
 " Nonsense, Rachel. I never know whether it 
 is you or I who are talking. I do it for both of 
 us. I dare say it would not sound droll if it was 
 repeated ; but Dr. Rowland and Mr. Forrester 
 made everything so amusing just about the 
 things along the road, and each other, and an old 
 woman who brought us out some milk to drink." 
 
 " I hope she found it amusing to be laughed 
 at." 
 
 " Of course she did not know they were laugh- 
 ing at her, and she went on being more absurd 
 than ever. You know what I mean, Rachel.
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. 13 
 
 I've heard you say yourself how pleasantly the 
 Lees talk about everything ; it makes every one 
 about here seem dull, I know that." 
 
 Rachel was folding the table-cloth, and went 
 on laying her plaits straight, apparently intent on 
 her work, till, as she put it in its place, she said : 
 
 " Madge dear, don't let the pleasant times we 
 have had with the Lees make you discontented, 
 or I shall wish we had never known them.'' 
 
 " Don't suggest anything so horrid ! What 
 should we do without them ? Why, only ye^ter- 
 day father said he had no idea how far on we 
 were in August, till he heard the cockerels crow ; 
 and my first thought was how soon the Lees' 
 house would be shut up for the winter. You 
 can call it discontented, but I don't see how any 
 one can help wanting to know pleasant people, 
 instead of dull ones." 
 
 Rachel looked worried. It was always difficult 
 to tell where Madge drew the line at what she 
 called " preaching." 
 
 " I should say that it was discontented to spoil 
 the next three months with dread of the winter. 
 After all, Madge, you enjoy it when it comes." 
 
 " Of course I do in self-defence. I'm not 
 such a goose as to like being miserable. What I 
 want, now this you will think dreadful, but 
 what I wish is, that we were like the Lees ; and 
 when the pleasant time here is over, could go off
 
 14 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 to New York, and have just as pleasant a 
 there." 
 
 " I don't know about you, dear, but I am afraid 
 that the rest of us would not make much of a 
 show in a city," Rachel said. 
 
 "That is just what makes me angry with my- 
 self, to feel awkward where Helen is perfectly 
 at ease. When I am alone with the family, even 
 with Mr. Lee or Fred, I feel quite at home ; but 
 with other people Helen's friend, Miss Granger, 
 for mstance I almost fancy they are talking 
 about things that I don't understand, on pur- 
 pose ; and then I feel such a stupid country girl." 
 Madge dropped disconsolately into a chair, her 
 duster in her lap. " I suppose I am discontented, 
 but I hate dusting, and I hate sweeping, and I 
 hate making over old dresses." 
 
 " Well, you don't at all hate making new ones," 
 Rachel said, cheerfully ; " and this will be a nice 
 morning to set about your blue muslin. There's 
 nothing especial to do to-day, and we can get it 
 half done between us." 
 
 The mood was over for that hour, and Madge 
 ran off, her head full of plans for reproducing 
 the costumes of her companions of yesterday. 
 She would not have dared to own even to Rachel 
 how many of her longings were given to lovely 
 new dresses, such as she saw were taken as a 
 matter of course in this other world, into which 
 she looked so wistfully.
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. 1 5 
 
 Though Rachel had skilfully turned the cur- 
 rent of Madge's thoughts, the conversation just 
 passed would have made it a hard matter to rea- 
 son away her father's anxieties, had he heard it. 
 No very new anxiety. Lo.ng ago, when the plan 
 had first been suggested that his girls should 
 share some lessons with Helen Lee from her 
 governess, he had had his doubts. No one val- 
 ued good teaching more than he ; but might not 
 they learn something else learn to depend on 
 things which belonged very properly to Miss 
 Helen Lee's life, but not at all to that of a far- 
 mer's daughter? Still it was hard to disappoint 
 his wife, and the girls too, and so his sturdy 
 independence gave way, but the doubts would 
 sometimes come back. Not for Rachel, her 
 mother over again ; but for his little Madge 
 he was not quite so sure. 
 
 This morning the doubts were uppermost, and 
 when he came in with a basket of eggs, he lin- 
 gered, rather wishing for a word from his wife, to 
 turn the balance. The harm was done, he 
 was afraid ; that is to say, if there were any 
 harm. Hester always seemed to think that 
 nothing but good could come from Mrs. Lee and 
 Miss Helen. 
 
 " Any errands at the store ? " he said, as his 
 wife counted over the eggs. " I'm going along 
 down that way, and I can keep on as far as the 
 Centre, if you want."
 
 16 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " No, I don't believe there's anything. Six 
 dozen two, four, six why, how the hens are 
 laying ! " 
 
 " You'll have plenty more to-morrow, and 
 straight along now. That notion I got out of 
 the ' Ploughman ' is working first-rate, and you'll 
 have as many eggs as there's folks to come after 
 them, and all you want for yourself beside." 
 
 " Well now, father, do you know if I'm going 
 to have so much egg-money, I've a great mind to 
 let Madge have something she's been wishing 
 for if you think right, that is." 
 
 Here was a chance for letting out his worries, 
 and the farmer tilted his hat (still left where it 
 took up the least room, on the top of his head) 
 over his perplexed brows, and waited to say what 
 he wished, without being too hard on his little 
 girl. 
 
 " It's a little bookcase that Madge saw at Mrs. 
 Lee's ; she thought it would look just the thing 
 between the windows in the sitting-room. It 
 doesn't seem just like spending money, either, 
 for it was made by Widow Green's lame boy, and 
 it's ever so much of a help to her. Mrs. Lee 's 
 been just as kind well, just as kind as she al- 
 ways is, and has given him drawings to copy ; 
 and now he's been making quite a lot of things, 
 little tables, and so on, that the boarders round 
 have bought. If we could do the widow a turn,
 
 *A SUMMER'S DAY. 17 
 
 and please the girls too, I thought you wouldn't 
 begrudge the money." 
 
 " It isn't the money," and the hat was tipped 
 on to the back of his head now, as if some fresh 
 supply of wisdom might blow in through the 
 thick gray hair, " money 's easier to get than 
 good sense. I should be very ready to pay Bijah 
 Green anything he asked for a good kitchen table 
 for Madge to stand at and make bread ; but why 
 does she want to have bookcases, and things like 
 Mrs. Lee's folks that belong in the city ? " 
 
 " Why, father, you like books as well as any- 
 body ; and seems to me it's very 'nice to have 
 something pretty to set them in. And, then, I 
 like to have a girl think about making the house 
 look pretty." 
 
 " What does she want more than we've got ? 
 The child can put the ugly, useful things in the 
 closet ; I'd just as lief go and get out the diction- 
 ary and the map when I'm put to it to know any- 
 thing ; and then there's the book-shelves for all 
 her genteel reading. Why, Hester, we thought, 
 when we bought those book-shelves, they were 
 most too handsome for us, with all their carved 
 curlicues and headings well, well." 
 
 He had quite a grieved look on his face, and 
 his wife responded with quick sympathy to the 
 recollection which they had in common. 
 
 " Yes, Joe ; but, then, part of the reason they 
 2
 
 1 8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 looked so to us is because we had them in the 
 beginning, when there was only you and me ; 
 they mean a great deal more than book-shelves 
 to us. I'm sure I hope the girls will see the time 
 when all their pretty things will mean as much 
 to them ; but I don't wonder now that they have 
 rather a longing for something a little different 
 from what they've seen all their days." 
 
 Mr. Anderson had a way of accompanying any 
 difficult problem with a most distracting tattoo on 
 table, window, or fence ; anything which gave a 
 foothold, as it were, for his fingers. Madge would 
 say, " Father, if I can't have it, tell me quick, and 
 then I'll begin to tease, but you must not drum." 
 And he would say, " Much better to let me drum 
 it out, dear ; it does not take half so long as your 
 teasing." But his wife and Rachel always waited 
 patiently for the end of the tattoo, as only 
 " father's way." The drumming this time did not 
 appear to bring matters to any satisfactory con- 
 clusion in the farmer's mind. 
 
 " It's not the girls, I mean, Hester ; there's 
 never anything to worry about in Rachel ; and 
 it's not the bookcase that signifies either, for that 
 matter. I'll stop at Widow Green's to-day, and 
 see what Bijah's at work on. It's a deal more 
 than that, that I'm thinking about. The Lees 
 are as good folks as I wish to know, but they're 
 not our sort. Madge wasn't born to live among
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. 19 
 
 'em, and I'm afraid, one of these days, Miss Helen 
 will branch off, and leave Madge out in the cold. 
 She'll be unhappy, and we shall be sorry that we 
 did not keep her where she belonged." 
 
 His wife looked sober, but not troubled. She 
 knew very well that he was thinking of the time 
 when he had doubted the wisdom of letting a 
 childish acquaintance lead on to an intimacy 
 which must, in some degree, affect his daughters' 
 lives, though he would not harp upon it. 
 
 " I don't believe we've made any mistake," she 
 said. " There isn't a house in Hartfield where 
 she could learn any more good than from Mrs. 
 Lee and Miss Helen ; and they are not the kind 
 to make a friend of her now, and drop her by and 
 by. Madge is a gay little body, and would need 
 looking after anywhere ; but then you must re- 
 member she's got Rachel." 
 
 "And mother too," he said ; " I don't see how 
 she could go amiss." 
 
 They were gray-haired people ; but as he went 
 out he kissed her tenderly as tenderly as in the 
 days when they were beginning life together, as she 
 said, when he, a strong, young Scotchman, took her 
 to share with him plans for life in the New World, 
 towards which he had been striving ever since he 
 was a boy on his father's bleak Highland farm. 
 
 When he had left her, her mind wandered back
 
 2O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 to days in which he had no share before he 
 had removed her from a life so dull that it did 
 not even suggest anything better. It was partly 
 this which had made her long, even against her 
 husband's judgment, to accept for her children an 
 opening to a life which would have satisfied her 
 own unrecognized yearnings. Had her youth 
 been one of uneventful happiness, she might have 
 made the mistake of thinking that they, too, 
 should be satisfied with what was enough for her ; 
 but even at this long distance from it she could 
 not help pitying the forlorn girlhood she remem- 
 bered. Like Bertha in the Lane, she 
 
 " Pitied her own heart, as if she held it in her hand." 
 
 In the grim household where her maiden aunts 
 regarded her as the most unlucky mistake 
 of their unlucky brother's life, an aspiration to- 
 wards anything better than their dull ways would 
 have been regarded by them as an inheritance of 
 folly, or worse. Their brother James had aspired 
 to poetry, art, heaven knows what nonsense ; the 
 natural consequence in their minds had been a 
 consumptive wife and an orphan child. 
 
 Hester's girlish prettiness, her sweet, graceful 
 ways, had been to them only signs of the evil in 
 her nature. If they had ever felt anything but 
 wrath at their sister-in-law's selfishness in slip- 
 ping out of the world and leaving them with
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. 21 
 
 this charge on their hands, it was when they 
 thought that, but for their unremitting severity, 
 Hester would have taken as naturally to evil ways 
 as they to the ugly side of life. Poor child, she 
 had almost begun to think so herself, when her 
 lover came to teach her, in very different language, 
 what it all meant, and carried her off to the happy 
 married life, which made those earlier years seem 
 as if lived by some other woman. 
 
 It was not often that she went back to the old 
 times. Her aunts had died years ago, devotedly 
 nursed by her, and taking all her devotion as the 
 result of their careful training. They would say : 
 
 " Sister and I went through everything with 
 Hetty, for a setter child in all her ways you never 
 see ; but first we scolded, and then we prayed, 
 and then we whipped, and there she be." 
 
 Mrs. Anderson pondered and puzzled, as she 
 moved about her pretty dairy, made as dainty for 
 her by her husband's care as ever a city lady's bou- 
 doir. It would be terrible if she should have gone 
 against her dear good man's wishes, and then 
 harm should come. But no, there surely could 
 be nothing but good in having added so much 
 to Rachel's resources ; and for Madge, dear child, 
 well, she could not regret all the pleasure the 
 intimacy with the Lees gave her, and she herself 
 must be the more watchful that nothing came out 
 of it to disturb " father's honest Scotch pride."
 
 22 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " Want some pretty, genteel work, Mrs. Ander- 
 son ? " Nancy said, coming in with a pan of peas 
 to shell. 
 
 " Quite ready," Mrs. Anderson said. " I was 
 just coming to see how you were getting on with 
 the ironing, and if you did not want a little help." 
 
 " Not a bit ; our girls don't have no dimi-simi- 
 quivers on their govvnds, not so many as they 
 might. I was looking at - Miss Lee's gownd to 
 meeting last Sabbath ; it was in the aisle coming 
 out, so I guess 'twan't no harm to speak of ; and 
 I said to myself, now why shouldn't our Madge 
 be kind of frilled and puckered up, just like that. 
 I didn't like to seem to be looking, but I got a 
 sort of idee how it went ;" and Nancy endeav- 
 ored to drape her large calico apron, to give the 
 air of the last French fashion. 
 
 " Nancy, don't be putting notions into Madge's 
 head, there's a good soul ! It's all very well for 
 Miss Helen, with no end of money^ to buy with 
 and hands to work for her ; but I think Madge 
 looks pretty enough in the plain dresses that 
 don't take half a day to iron." 
 
 " I guess she does look pretty, indeed ; why, 
 sometimes I think the child looks handsome 
 enough to be one of them dangerous Scriptur 
 women." 
 
 " I'm quite satisfied with her as she is," the 
 mother said. " Miss Helen 's a very kind friend ;
 
 A SUMMERS DAY. 23 
 
 but Madge must learn she can't have her own nice 
 things and everybody else's too. We mustn't 
 spoil her, Nancy." 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't think a ruffle or two wan't 
 no great pitfall for anybody ; and I'd make a 
 friendly call up to Miss Lee's laundry, and learn 
 a few wrinkles about adoin' on' em up. But there, 
 my starch'll jell if I stop a-talking here." 
 
 " Nancy, too," Mrs. Anderson thought, as she 
 sat with her pan of peas in her lap, while busy 
 fingers and busy thoughts went on together. " I 
 wonder if there's not just as much fear of the 
 spoiling being done at home. It's not the whiff 
 of air once in a while, but the atmosphere, day in 
 and day out, that is the important thing." 
 
 The busy day had come to its end when my 
 story begins. Nancy in the kitchen was contem- 
 plating the great clothes-horse covered with 
 glossy, shining folds, and thinking that " if you 
 did have to yank your eyes open at four o'clock 
 in the morning, it was a comfort to have some- 
 thing worth to show for't." -The mother sat in 
 the porch with her work-basket, glancing up to 
 watch her girls as she stopped to turn a hem or 
 thread a needle, always with the pleasant sense 
 that they were there. 
 
 Rachel was too engrossed with her reading 
 even to wonder that she had been so long unin-
 
 24 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 terrupted by the pleasant chatter of her srster, 
 who liked to assert her rights as a companion, 
 and was always a little jealous of the exclusive 
 way in which a book took possession of Rachel. 
 Madge's voice aroused her, and, looking up, she 
 saw her standing by the roadside. The farm- 
 house green sloped gently upwards to the wide 
 stone wall, skirting the road, and formed a grassy 
 terrace walk for some distance ; and there, half 
 hidden among sweeping chestnut boughs, stood 
 Madge, talking to a gentleman on horseback in 
 the road below. 
 
 As Rachel joined them her sister held out a 
 note, saying, " A message from Helen, which Dr. 
 Rowland has brought ;" to which the rider added : 
 " Yes, the lion will be fed on strawberries and 
 cream at eight, and if properly stirred up, it is 
 hoped that he will begin to roar at half-past, and 
 Helen desires that you will come and share her 
 raptures." 
 
 " Don't look so puzzled, Rachel ; it is only that 
 Helen's musical friend has arrived, and we are 
 asked there to hear some music this evening. 
 You don't think there can be any objection I 
 want so much to go." 
 
 " Of course you must come," Dr. Howland said, 
 "they all want you. I have been listening to 
 their ecstasies till I should like an unbiased 
 judgment as to whether there is most noise or 
 music."
 
 A SUMMER'S DAY. .25 
 
 " There's something amiss with you to-day, and 
 you are not at all nice," Madge said. " We shall 
 come all prepared for unmixed admiration, as we 
 have never heard anything like it, and it must be 
 fine if Helen enjoys it." 
 
 " I'm sure I am much obliged for your mild 
 way of putting it. I know I am far from nice 
 this afternoon, but everything and everybody up 
 at the house seem out of their grooves to-day. 
 Helen and Miss Granger have been unapproach- 
 able ; and when I want my aunt especially for half 
 an hour, she is taken up with planning for a 
 nuisance of a picnic to-morrow expects me to 
 drive the grand piano ; and Fred will have charge 
 ofrHerr Stenbock and his music-stool. The idea 
 of a picnic in August ! " 
 
 " Now, Dr. Howland, I really am alarmed about 
 you ; what has happened ? Why, we went on a 
 picnic the hottest day of last June, and if any one 
 enjoyed it, you certainly did, with thunder-storm 
 and mosquitoes thrown in. I must say, if Helen 
 asks me, I shall be only too happy for the chance ; 
 and how you will despise me for the delightful 
 time I shall have." 
 
 " Not a bit ; and I think I begin to see a ray of 
 light. You will be so happy that perhaps it will 
 be infectious, and there," giving himself a shake, 
 " what a waste of time it is to be cross in this 
 weather ! There's not so very much more of it,
 
 . 26 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 and if one could only bottle up one's blues till 
 November, they would pass for influenza." 
 
 Rachel looked up with her kind, pleasant smile. 
 "I know what you need, Dr. Rowland to lean 
 over the gate and see the cows milked. You 
 said once that if the cows would stand long 
 enough, you would agree to soothe your most 
 nervous patient. There go Nancy and the pails! 
 Come, and then we will go to mother in the dairy, 
 and finish the cure with an internal application." 
 
 "I wish I could, Miss Rachel ; it sounds very 
 tempting. I feel a trifle more amiable already ; 
 but I have promised Helen to deliver some mes- 
 sages about the picnic to-morrow. You will 
 come this evening, and I shall walk down to maet 
 you ? " 
 
 " Oh no, don't do that ; it is a bright evening, 
 and if we needed any one, my cousin David is 
 very likely to be here." 
 
 " David ! " Madge said, with an expressive pro- 
 longation of the word as they turned away. 
 
 "Yes, and the best of Davids," Rachel said; 
 "and if we needed an escort, the best for us. 
 You know, Madge dear, that this is just the kind 
 of thing which annoys father. It makes him 
 fancy that if we are so much with the Lees, we 
 may catch up foolish ideas which will spoil us. I 
 don't want to preach, but I wish you would see 
 how wise father is."
 
 A SUMMER'S DAY. 27 
 
 " Oh, you may preach forever, Rachel, if you 
 don't take David for a text. I do get so tired 
 sometimes of hearing how good he is. But I 
 should really like to- know if there was any 
 special reason for Dr. Rowland's seeming so un- 
 like himself. I don't think I ever saw him look- 
 ing out of spirits before ; and of course it was not 
 that German's music." 
 
 There was a most especial reason why Jack 
 Rowland was riding along the pretty country 
 road, looking moodily between his horse's ears. 
 To-day had brought him what seemed the dis- 
 appointment of his life, and though he knew that 
 he should reconcile himself to it, as he had done 
 to many an annoyance from the same source 
 before, there was a fight going on within him at 
 that moment. 
 
 When Mary Gray, the belle and beauty of her 
 season, married Jack Rowland's father, a hand- 
 some man, rich and of good family, it seemed a 
 most excellent match. So thought the world, and 
 still more Mary Gray herself, who was very much 
 in love with the owner of all these qualifications 
 for matrimony. At the end of ten years of mar- 
 ried life, Mrs. Rowland looked upon a young 
 bride with more compassion for the trials to 
 come, than sympathy with her present happiness. 
 A stronger woman might have fought out the 
 petty battles, conquered, and perhaps grown hard
 
 28 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 in the victory ; but Mrs. Rowland simply faded 
 away out of life, and when in a few years more 
 the poor worried lady drew her last breath, the 
 doctor talked of typhoid fever acting on an ex- 
 hausted system, but thought to himself that his 
 skill might have brought her through, had not 
 death seemed so much easier to her than life. 
 For the one great happiness had gone from her 
 when curly-headed Jack was sent off to Germany 
 to school. Mr. Rowland's last dictum had been 
 to announce that the boy would be much better 
 for the next few years, learning independence at 
 a distance from home ; and the most disturbing 
 thought in his wife's last illness was to wonder 
 who would tell her darling gently enough that 
 mamma was no longer sitting at home, waiting for 
 the letters he had promised so faithfully to write. 
 For six months Mr. Rowland was the most 
 elaborate of widowers. Then, tired of this new 
 character, he did what might have saved the life 
 of his wife went abroad to be within reach of 
 his boy ; and once there, finding himself so much 
 more easily amused than at home, decided to 
 remain. Jack and his father got on very well 
 together in the intervals of school and college 
 life. Fortunately for the son's happiness his life 
 was full of interest in his.pursuits ; for very early 
 he had decided that the one occupation for which 
 he would like to fit himself was surgery. Stingi-
 
 A SUMMER'S DAY. 29 
 
 ness was no part of Mr. Rowland's character ; it 
 was rather his tendency to be lavish with his 
 money, and as, after his selfish fashion, he was a 
 proud and loving father, Jack felt sure that there 
 would never be any lack of money to carry out 
 his plans. When Jack had gone through his 
 whole course of study, and had graduated in Paris 
 with full honors, he astonished his father by sud- 
 denly developing his plans, knowing very well 
 that with Mr. Rowland a long contemplation 
 even of paradise would have ended in doubts as 
 to whether the other sphere did not present the 
 greater advantages of the two. 
 
 But when Jack said, without any preparation, 
 " Why would it not be a good plan for him to re- 
 turn to America, and for two or three years at 
 least occupy himself with trying to carry out at 
 home some of the ideas which he had acquired in 
 his foreign education ? " his father answered, " By 
 all means, my dear boy ; " and applied himself 
 with enthusiasm to aiding his son, with letters to 
 old friends, advice, and liberal money arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Jack had arrived in America the previous au- 
 tumn, and had spent the happiest winter of his 
 life, regarding it only as a preparation for future 
 years of usefulness. He had this morning re- 
 ceived the letter which put an end to every 
 present plan. His father wrote that he was ill,
 
 3O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 lonely, wretched ; and that it was unreasonable to 
 ask him longer to supply the funds for plans 
 which he saw would deprive him of his son's com- 
 panionship for life, as his own health forbade his 
 return to America. Jack's first feeling, on read- 
 ing his letter, was unmixed rebellion. What 
 right had any man, even if he did stand in the 
 relation of a parent, so utterly to control the life 
 of another ? And if he yielded now, all was over 
 with him. Of course he need not be useless, but 
 he should be always at his father's beck and call ; 
 and only in America could he really find a career. 
 The storm had raged within him all day, but as 
 the sun went down there came a lull, and walk- 
 ing his horse along the road, he drew the letter 
 from his pocket and conned it carefully over. 
 The disappointment was as great, but there was 
 no question as to the duty of his returning to 
 his father, as soon as he could make the neces- 
 sary arrangements to resign what he had taken 
 upon himself for the winter. As soon as Jack's 
 hopeful nature began to reassert itself, he was 
 ready to be convinced that all must go as he 
 wished ; and by the time he had returned from 
 his ride, he was almost reconciled to the post- 
 ponement of his plans, and was thinking very 
 tenderly of his father, ill and alone, and longing 
 for his boy. Jack gave a whistle, as he remem- 
 bered suddenly how very cross his father always 
 was in a fit of the gout.
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 31 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 WHEN the evening came, there was nothing 
 to prevent the girls from going to Mrs. Lee's, 
 and, much to Madge's internal satisfaction, no 
 Cousin David had appeared as escort ; but as 
 they turned the corner of the shrubbery, upon 
 the gravel walk was Dr. Rowland, pacing up and 
 down, enjoying his cigar. 
 
 " I did not come, because you told me not ; but 
 I was just going to extend my walk to see what 
 had become of you. Here are some seats on the 
 piazza, where you can enjoy the moonlight and 
 the music at the same time." 
 
 So faultless an arrangement having been made, 
 it seemed hard that it should be interrupted ; but 
 Helen Lee, stepping out from the drawing-room, 
 begged them to come and listen to the music in- 
 side. The piazza had much greater attraction 
 for Madge, and she hesitated ; then followed Miss 
 Lee through the open window ; and Rachel, 
 rather to her own astonishment, found herself 
 answering sympathetically poor Jack's look of
 
 32 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 disappointment, as they sat down together out- 
 side, where they could not only hear, but, through 
 the wide windows opening to the floor, see all 
 that passed within. The pianist began an Hun- 
 garian polonaise, full of wild fancy, and creating 
 before the minds of his hearers the brilliant 
 figures which should move to such strains. In 
 Madge's present mood the music roused a sense 
 of restless excitement. She felt the beauty of 
 life and motion described, and longed, in a vague 
 way, to have a part in it. 
 
 " The Herr is pandering to the populace to- 
 night," Dr. Rowland said. " It was Bach and 
 Beethoven this morning, but to-night Helen has 
 gathered in all the fashion which Hartfield af- 
 fords, and he is playing down to their tastes. 
 Your sister is enjoying it. How lovely she 
 looks ! " 
 
 It was a very pretty picture, Rachel owned. 
 Madge, sitting within the window, the lace cur- 
 tains forming a drapery about her, the fair head 
 a little bent as her fancies followed the music, a 
 bright flush upon her cheeks, and the hair ruffled 
 by her walk in the wind, making soft curls about 
 her forehead. 
 
 "You can scarcely imagine," he said presently, 
 when the music paused, " what a new experience 
 it is to me to know women at home. In all these 
 years abroad I have had various friends, foreign
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 33 
 
 and American, but I have never seen women just 
 as they were living in their own homes, and to 
 have a friend like Helen Lee has been a great 
 gain in my life." 
 
 " My knowledge of the world is very small. 
 All that I know beyond Hartfield comes out of 
 books ; but I wonder if Helen is not out of the 
 usual class of women ; she seems to me to get 
 so much out of life, and taking the best of town 
 and country together must make a delightful 
 whole." 
 
 " Not many Helens in the world, but enough 
 to prevent her from being an oddity. In fact, I 
 am surprised to find what a foolish ideal I have 
 had about women all my days : that they were 
 either beautiful creatures, who passed their time 
 in refusing offers, or else something so superior to 
 men, that the sooner we died out the better, and 
 left the world to their management. But I have 
 seen very charming women this winter, who were 
 not above making themselves attractive women 
 who could find time for work which was well 
 worth doing." 
 
 " You can suppose," said Rachel, " what your 
 aunt and cousin have been to us. Beside the 
 pleasure of their society for half the year, they 
 give us a peep into the world outside, and it is 
 like a story-book to us." 
 3
 
 34 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " And they never could persuade you to stay 
 with them, Helen tells me." 
 
 " Oh, no, that is out of the question. I cannot 
 leave home ; my sister could not go alone, and 
 we are much better as we are. I think we all 
 keep up the interest of our friendship by having 
 such different stories to tell each other when we 
 come together again." 
 
 " And Miss Margaret is contented with her 
 quiet life ? I can imagine her wishing for some- 
 thing beyond Hartfield gayety. Is it that you 
 would not trust her out of your care, or is she 
 afraid to venture by herself ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Lee has been very kind in asking her. 
 She would have enjoyed it, I know ; but we 
 talked it over, my mother and I, as the elders of 
 the family, and we agreed it was not worth while 
 to risk her being discontented afterwards. She 
 is a happy little thing now, and Hartfield would 
 have seemed very tame after New York. Look 
 at her now," Rachel could not help saying, 
 pleased and amused as she watched Madge talk- 
 ing in an animated way, with a gentleman who 
 had just been presented to her. " A stranger is 
 such a lion in my path, and that child dares to 
 make herself as entertaining as if they had been 
 at school together all their days." 
 
 Dr. Howland left his seat to look nearer at 
 what was passing within ; and as Mrs. Lee came
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 35 
 
 out from the drawing-room and sat down by Ra- 
 chel, he joined the group, of which Madge was 
 the bright centre. 
 
 " Ah, Rachel, my dear, all well with you at the 
 iarm ? " 
 
 " Quite well. Mother said, this morning, that 
 it was several days since you had looked in upon 
 her." 
 
 " Visitors have been coming and going, and 
 I feel as if I had done nothing but consult the 
 railway guide this week. Helen told me to-day 
 that she thought nothing would rest me but to 
 sit at your dairy- window and watch Mrs. Ander- 
 son skim her pans of milk." 
 
 " Mother will skim a pan at any irregular time 
 for the pleasure of seeing you. You don't know 
 what it is to a woman like my mother to have a 
 companion to whom she can talk over all her 
 wonderings about this world and the next. Her 
 good old friends here never wonder, except 
 whether there can be anything about making 
 bread, or quilting spreads, which they have not 
 found out." 
 
 " Well, my dear, your mother gives a great 
 deal more to me than she imagines. You would 
 be amused if you knew how often in the winter, 
 when Helen and I are puzzled over the rights 
 and wrongs of matters, we say, ' Now, how would 
 it seem if we were in the Hartfield sitting-room, 
 with Mrs. Anderson to judge for tis.' "
 
 36 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Lee, it is delightful to have you say 
 such kind things. Only this evening, as we 
 were walking up, Madge was rather blue over the 
 few days that are left now ; and I told her that I 
 thought it must be a very warm friendship which 
 had not been frozen out in all these winters." 
 
 " Indeed, you are right ; and, Rachel, you know 
 that it is only because you have thought it best, 
 that the winter makes a gap in our intercourse ; 
 we should be only too thankful to have one or 
 both of you with us for as long as you could be 
 spared from home." 
 
 " You are very kind ; but it's best as it is. It 
 would not be in human nature, certainly not in 
 Madge's, to enjoy all that you would give her at 
 your house, and then come back here and be con- 
 tent, I do not mean with her home, but with 
 the people to whom she belongs." 
 
 " I know you are wise, and I never shall inter- 
 fere. But how pretty she is, and how she attracts 
 them all about her ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Rachel ; " and I really wonder 
 sometimes that Madge is such a good, practical 
 little creature at home. We should all find it 
 hard to resist her if she insisted upon having her 
 own way." 
 
 " And one of these days, Rachel, how is it to 
 be ? Do you ever think where the future hus- 
 band is to come from? Not out of Hartfield, 
 surely."
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 37 
 
 " I try to think that he is a great way off as 
 yet. If I could choose, I should hope that Madge 
 would not be married for so long that she would 
 care for a man of stronger character than would 
 be likely to attract her now. But there, how fool- 
 ish even to think about her marrying till the 
 coming man knocks at the door ! " 
 
 It was on Mrs. Lee's lips to say, " Look now ; " 
 but she checked herself, though she fancied that 
 Rachel was observing what passed inside between 
 Madge and Mr. Forrester ; while Dr. Rowland 
 stood by, evidently annoyed, but trying to look 
 quite indifferent. 
 
 " Then we shall meet at the picnic to-morrow," 
 Mr. Forrester said. " And what is the order of the 
 day ? for I shall be very happy if you will trust 
 yourself in my care, and let me drive you, Miss 
 Anderson." 
 
 " I think Mrs. Lee has arranged " Dr. How- 
 land began, and then stopped, fancying that he 
 saw in Madge's face a willingness to accept ; but 
 she knew very well that her only chance for 
 the picnic at all was that she should go under 
 Mrs. Lee's wing ; so she refused, with a pretty 
 blush, for which she was not exactly accounta- 
 ble, but which accomplished all she could have 
 wished ; leaving Mr. Forrester with the impres- 
 sion that she would have been glad to accept 
 "if Rowland had not stood there as if he had
 
 38 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 a right to decide the matter confound 
 him ! " 
 
 Some more music followed ; and as Rachel 
 was thinking how best to take leave without hav- 
 ing Madge's admirers in attendance, a tall figure 
 appeared from the shrubbery her cousin Da- 
 vid's ! A word to Mrs. Lee, who attracted 
 Madge to the piazza, and they were walking 
 down the avenue before she had been missed. 
 This was not quite what Madge had planned 
 and hoped as the end of the evening. David was 
 all very well very necessary indeed to Madge, 
 as regarded every-day life, but not entertaining 
 for a moonlight walk. He had led a varied ex- 
 istence, alternately coaxed and plagued ever 
 since his arrival from Scotland, a big, straggling 
 boy of thirteen, when he fell an instant victim to 
 the charms of his baby cousin. And for this de- 
 votion Madge rewarded him with the sort of 
 regard a woman is apt to bestow upon the man 
 whom it has cost her no trouble to win. Of 
 course he admires her, as the great river goes 
 over the fall ; what else is there for him to do ? 
 Not that Madge ever defined her sentiments on 
 this or any other subject. She was as free from 
 introspection as a young woman of this thinking 
 period could well be. Among David's virtues 
 was his readiness, not only to believe himself in 
 the wrong, but to be forgiven afterwards, when- 
 ever her teasing mood was over.
 
 * A SUMMER EVENING. 39 
 
 So when Rachel said, in her kindly way, "I 
 am so much obliged to you for walking up for us, 
 David, I am afraid you must have come home 
 very tired," Madge added, rather loftily, " It 
 seems a pity for David to come for us if he is 
 so very tired, as he is not at all needed, and I am 
 afraid it looks a little officious to other people." 
 
 " Why, Madge ! " David broke in ; " you know I 
 only came " 
 
 " Of course, I know you only came because 
 you thought you must ; and you are very kind 
 indeed, but you need not do it again ; for there 
 is always some one who is very glad to come 
 with us." And then, as if David were disposed 
 of forever, she turned to Rachel. " Oh, Rachel, 
 this is such a pleasant plan of Helen's for the 
 picnic to-morrow ! Every one who was there 
 to-night is going, and I shall have an enchanting 
 time. You will help me to finish my blue mus- 
 lin, won't you ? " 
 
 David never had learned, and probably never 
 would, when his cousin Madge was unsafe for 
 him to approach, and he said, impulsively, " Oh, 
 Madge, you can't go to-morrow ! It is the day 
 for Mrs. Parker's bee, and we are all going ; and 
 you know you said you would let me drive you 
 over, and try the new black horse." 
 
 " Now that is so like you, David," Madge an- 
 swered, " to remind me of that stupid bee, when
 
 4O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET* 
 
 you see that I might have such a delightful 
 time with the Lees. Mother and Rachel can 
 go to Mrs. Parker's, and I'm sure I should not 
 think of trusting myself with that new horse of 
 yours." 
 
 " Why, I thought that you really wanted to go, 
 and I am sure we shall all be very much disap- 
 pointed if you are not there." 
 
 " Yes, and you never seem to imagine that some 
 one else will be just as much disappointed if I do 
 not go to the picnic. I may just as well choose 
 what will give me the most pleasure." 
 
 This was not soothing to David's feelings, who 
 had caught sight of the group at the drawing- 
 room window ; but before he could speak, Rachel 
 interposed : 
 
 " I am sorry that the two things should come on 
 the same day, for I know that mother would not 
 hurt Mrs. Parker's feelings on any account ; but 
 Mrs. Lee said that it would be such a great dis- 
 appointment to Helen if you did not go, that I 
 promised to arrange it if I could." 
 
 " There, David, you see that I have really a 
 good reason for wanting to go to the picnic, and 
 you would be sorry yourself to have me vex 
 Miss Lee. You said, only the other day, that you 
 thought she had such delightful manners, and how 
 much she had improved me." 
 
 To which David answered, under the impres-
 
 A SUMMER EVENING. 4! 
 
 sion that he was making a most unexceptionable 
 compliment : 
 
 " I never thought of saying that Miss Lee could 
 improve you." 
 
 " Oh, no," Madge said, with a little pathetic 
 quiver in her voice, which she knew of old would 
 bring David to subjection instantly, " I knew 
 you did not think that I really had improved, 
 only that I might if I should see more of Miss 
 Lee." 
 
 David protested that he never said anything so 
 unkind ; he only meant that nothing could ever 
 make his darling little Madge more charming, arid 
 he supposed there never had been, and never 
 would be, such a great stupid fellow as he was. 
 
 Affairs having been brought to a very satisfac- 
 tory pass, and Madge feeling sure that David 
 would not say a word before her father and mother 
 to interfere with her plans, she took him into 
 favor instantly, and entertained him the rest of 
 the way home with her droll account of the com- 
 pliments which she had received that evening, 
 and to which she had listened, at the time, with 
 such a pretty, shy grace, that Mr. Forrester 
 thought her " the most charming little rosebud he 
 had ever seen." 
 
 When they were alone together at home, Rachel 
 read her one of her customary gentle lectures on 
 her treatment of David, " such a dear good
 
 42 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 fellow, who cares for you ten times more than you 
 deserve ; " and all that Madge said was, " You 
 never wanted to plague your kitten when you 
 were a little girl, and so you know nothing about 
 it, Rachel dear."
 
 A HAKTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 
 
 THE bee at Mrs. Parker's was one of those 
 neighborly arrangements by which the dwellers 
 in country districts, where festivities are scarce, 
 manage to secure a sociable afternoon and even- 
 ing for themselves, and at the same time do a 
 kind turn to a friend. Mrs. Parker, the tired 
 mother of six unwearied boys, who, if they could 
 have worn stove funnels instead of trousers, 
 would have managed to wriggle their knees 
 through them in one game at marbles, welcomed 
 the proposition that her friends should come and 
 "sew her up" for the winter, particularly as it 
 included their bringing with them every form 
 of cake and pie known to dyspepsia, and leav- 
 ing behind them a widow's cruse of jam and 
 pickles. 
 
 One reason for Rachel's willingness to gain 
 consent for Madge's joining the picnic was, that 
 she fully sympathized with her sister's apprecia- 
 tion of the tediousness of spending a long after- 
 noon in listening to the good women who consid-
 
 44 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ered that the most agreeable talker was the one 
 who could tell the same story over in the greatest 
 number of different ways. So with equal cheer- 
 fulness did she aid in giving the last touches to 
 the dress her sister was to wear, and to the pack- 
 ing of the baskets, which were Mrs. Anderson's 
 liberal share of the Parker feast. 
 
 " You look like a piece of the sky, little one," 
 her father said as Madge came flying down stairs 
 in the blue muslin ; " but I half wish you were 
 going along with your mother and Rachel." 
 
 " Oh, no, father," Madge said, coaxingly. " Think 
 how much wiser it is for me to spend this 
 lovely day out of doors, instead of being shut up 
 with all those good, dull people. They only talk 
 about their house-cleaning, and whose baby has 
 the most teeth and measles. It is so tiresome. 
 And you know you always manage to have some- 
 thing happen to the horse, so that you never get 
 there till mother is putting on her bonnet to come 
 home." 
 
 " It's no matter about me, because I'm old and 
 nobody wants me ; but you'd brighten them all 
 lip so they'd forget their measles, and talk about 
 pleasant things. Now there's Rachel, she doesn't 
 mind it." 
 
 " Oh, it's very different with Rachel ; the old 
 ladies say to her, ' What a lovely smile you've got, 
 so like your dear mother ; won't you just thread
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 45 
 
 this needle for me ? ' Then they ask her about 
 shirts and all sorts of wise things ; but nobody 
 pays me any attention, and I just sit in a corner 
 and sew up my fingers." 
 
 " There, run away, you midget. I suppose I 
 must let you go, now you've got that blue gown 
 on. Mrs. Lee's carriage is at the gate, and I will 
 go down and ask her to take good care of you." 
 
 He stopped at the window on his way back, to 
 say interrogatively, " I hope we are not spoiling 
 that child, Hester ? " 
 
 " I hope not, I'm sure ; I don't believe we are. 
 It's not worth while to insist upon her doing what 
 she does not like when there's no right or wrong 
 about it. Rachel is my conscience, and she ad- 
 vised me this morning to let her go ; so I don't 
 think we need worry." 
 
 " Mother's conscience, eh ? and father's right 
 hand ; that's about all a daughter can be. And to 
 reward you, none of us seem to think of asking 
 whether you like to go to the sewing-circle or 
 not," her father said, leaning in to lay his hand 
 lovingly on the smooth, brown hair, so different 
 from Madge's curly friz. 
 
 " Don't worry about me, father dear, for I do 
 like to go. It's dull for Madge, dear little soul ; 
 but I'm old-fashioned, and I've known them all 
 my days, so that I really feel interested in their 
 houses and babies. And there's a better reason
 
 46 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 still : Mother could never manage her great bas- 
 kets without me, could you, dear ? " 
 
 Mrs. Parker's sewing-circle was much like 
 other gatherings of the kind. To women whose 
 lives are spent in working and thinking, each for 
 the members of her own little circle, it is no small 
 excitement to come together once in a while, and 
 discuss the great questions of their world. This 
 was their social-science meeting, with perhaps a 
 branch for investigation of character. Mrs. Par- 
 ker sat in her parlor enjoying the unwonted sen- 
 sation of doing but one thing at a time : holding 
 her baby upon her lap, without trying to ac- 
 complish darning a' stocking held aloft out of 
 reach of his fat hands. She was peacefully un- 
 conscious of the two vigorous boys who had 
 climbed behind her into her chair, and, with their 
 knees planted in the small of her back, were 
 having a trial of strength as to which would 
 soonest push her out. To her, the sound of the 
 various sewing-machines which came from diifer- 
 ent rooms, brought by her kind friends for the 
 afternoon, were as the music of the spheres ; for 
 they told of the miles of stitching which would be 
 accomplished before they ceased. Talk of Sisy- 
 phus ! what were his labors compared with those 
 of the mother of six boys, trying to reach the 
 bottom of that weary work-basket, which grew 
 with the weekly wash till she felt as if she should
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 47 
 
 be found some day buried alive in a tomb of small 
 jackets and trousers ? But now she forgot all her 
 cares, and listened to the words of wisdom which 
 went on about her. 
 
 " Mrs. Richards, what do you allow for the neck- 
 band of a shirt ? " 
 
 "Well, the deacon he likes everything real 
 roomy, and he says he never did want to tuck his 
 chin inside his collar yet ; but he might be took 
 with a fancy for it ; so the rule he gave me, the 
 first shirt I made him after we were married, 
 was, 'Measure from the back of your neck to the 
 tip of your chin, Mary Jane, and then you'll know 
 if I choke to death 'tain't your fault.' " 
 
 " I don't believe Mrs. Slocumb, next door to 
 me, would allow her husband an extra inch, not 
 if it would save him choking on the spot." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mrs. Richards, "some folks 
 are made on a skimp pattern to start with, and 
 there don't seem to be any tucks to let out any- 
 where to allow of their hearts growing any bigger. 
 As for Mr. Slocumb, he's so lazy that he don't 
 more'n get out of bed to see the sun set ; so I don't 
 think I should waste much cloth on him, if he was 
 my husband." 
 
 " My children think," said Mrs. Babson, " that 
 it's a pity all mothers couldn't be cut out on your 
 pattern; for your Benny told them his mother's 
 doughnut-box was built way down'into the earth, 
 so as to hold enough for everybody."
 
 48 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Mrs. Richards gave a comfortable little laugh, 
 suggestive that her Benny's lot in life was blessed 
 above other boys', as she answered : " Don't give 
 me any credit, though ; the deacon 's a still man ; 
 but you never see such a provider. Why, I don't 
 suppose I'm ever out of his thoughts when he's 
 at market. My worry is, that I mayn't make 
 the best of such first-class stores as he sends 
 home." 
 
 " I don't mind," said Mrs. Johnson, who, as wife 
 to the sexton and undertaker of Hartfield, gener- 
 ally had some thrilling anecdotes to relate, "I 
 don't mind meanness in this world so much ; but 
 when it reaches into the grave, there I think we'd 
 ought to learn a lesson from it. Now, do you be- 
 lieve, there was Mrs. Sheppard, she had set her 
 heart on being laid out in that new black silk of 
 hers. Mercy knows it hadn't rained black silks in 
 her life, and if she wanted to look her best the 
 last time she was going to receive her friends, as 
 you may say, I should think they might have taken 
 a pride in it. But no ; there was her daughter 
 ripping out the back breadths, just because Mrs. 
 Sheppard was too far gone to open her eyes. 
 Lyddy Ann knew very well she'd have caught it 
 if her mother had been what she used to be." 
 
 "What a presence she had," said Mrs. Babson, 
 " and how she used to walk down the aisle on 
 Sundays with 'Mr. Sheppard, and the children
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 49 
 
 after her by twos ; but you did her full justice at 
 the funeral, Mrs. Johnson." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Johnson, modestly, "I did 
 my best. Those girls never had much snap to 
 'em, and they couldn't seem to understand their 
 mother's ideas about how she was to be dressed, 
 for she was just as set about it as if it was Fourth 
 of July instead of the day of judgment. So I 
 said, ' Now, Mrs. Sheppard, you just see if I 
 haven't got your notion about that lace ? ' and 
 I folded a handkerchief round my neck, and there 
 it was complete ; and she said it would cover up 
 all the places where she'd fell away. Do you know 
 I liked the looks of it so much, that the other day 
 when I was going to Mrs. May's silver wedding, 
 I thought Td just try putting some lace on my- 
 self, and my girls thought it was real becoming. 
 I didn't wear it to-day, because I thought if any 
 of you had been at the funeral, it might give you 
 a sort of a turn." 
 
 " Now, do you know," said Mrs. Richards, " I 
 think it's only just nature to want your friends to 
 think of you at your prettiest when you're gone ; 
 fact is, I don't believe a woman is just what she 
 ought to be without a little vanity not much, 
 you know like the mace in your stewed oysters, 
 just enough, so's you don't know what makes 'em 
 taste- so good. I should think a man would for- 
 get all about the nice young girl he married 
 4
 
 5<D FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 when he comes home at night and sees a dismal 
 woman, with her hair twisted up on top of her 
 head, and not so much as a clean collar on to re- 
 ceive him." 
 
 Rachel, who was sitting close by, could not 
 help smiling at the contrast of the sweet, rosy, 
 middle-age of the speaker with the picture drawn, 
 and Mrs. Richards nodded and whispered to her, 
 " You are not that sort, Rachel dear. One of 
 these days somebody '11 say to you, as the deacon 
 does to me, that coming home to supper is just 
 as good as going courting ; better, too, because 
 he can do it with his slippers on." 
 
 And so the afternoon wore on ; from one group 
 came good-natured laugh and chat, while in 
 another were solemn whisperings over their 
 neighbors' woes or sins*. Rachel sat with her 
 work by good, kind Mrs. Richards, who, of all the 
 Hartfield people, was the one towards whom she 
 felt most drawn. 
 
 Men and women are amazingly alike, whether 
 their lives are spent among bricks and mortar, or 
 green fields ; and Rachel felt in the woman, 
 whose tender heart made her nurse and com- 
 forter to all about her, the same nature which in 
 Mrs. Lee sought to diminish, in as far as she 
 could, the suffering in a great city. The faults 
 and vanities, too, are the same, with the differ- 
 ence, that the good taste which comes from a cul-
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 5! 
 
 tivated life may clothe them in garments more 
 attractive. The wife of the country shopkeeper 
 coaxes away the half year's profits which should 
 be put in the bank, that she may invest them in 
 a shawl of as many colors as a prize chromo of 
 
 autumn scenery ; while Mrs. , of the Avenue, 
 
 whose husband has gone so far beyond his means 
 that he has quite forgotten what they are, sets 
 her heart upon the priceless web of lace, which 
 her ignorant sister in folly would scorn, as making 
 so little show. 
 
 The sewing went vigorously on, and the wrin- 
 kles disappeared from Mrs. Parker's forehead as 
 she contemplated the growing piles of cotton and 
 woollen garments which to her meant not only 
 comfort for her children, but relief from patching 
 and backache in the coming winter. When the 
 company had gone, she would find at the bottom 
 of the basket a few things which had not been 
 made that afternoon. As she recognized Mrs. 
 Anderson's last winter's purple merino, and Mrs. 
 Richards' cloth cloak "handsomer than they 
 were the day they were bought, because they've got 
 a look of the dear souls that wore them," with a 
 pretty quilted silk hood of Rachel's making, if 
 a few tears fell upon them, they would be not 
 only of gratitude, but regret that she should have 
 let herself become discouraged with such kind 
 friends near her.
 
 52 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 The feast upon such an occasion is by no means 
 an unimportant affair ; for in this way those re- 
 ceipts which spring from a creative brain, and 
 have mysterious qualities nt to be communi- 
 cated to paper, are often diffused over the land. 
 You may see a matron apparently lost in earnest 
 thought, but her jaws are moving very gently as 
 she nibbles a corner of cake, hoping in this way 
 to be able to detect which of all the spices gives 
 that wonderful taste, of which she is too proud to 
 ask any explanation ; but if she is a woman of 
 genius, her husband will rise up and call her 
 blessed some night when he comes home to 
 supper and this delicious material melts in his 
 mouth. She sees the whole scene, and herself, 
 saying with dignity, " As I can't be beat on riz' 
 bread and sponge-cake, I thought it was a pity if 
 I couldn't find out what it was made of by just 
 putting my tongue to it. Mrs. Jones is a good 
 Christian woman, but there's others knows as 
 much as she does about fruit cake." 
 
 While the preparations went on, there was a 
 dissolving view of small Parkers constantly ap- 
 pearing and disappearing at the kitchen window ; 
 for it was more than could be expected of mortal 
 boys to keep up the appearance of being entirely 
 engrossed in play (as they were told would be 
 proper), with the knowledge of what was going 
 on within ; but when it came actually to sitting
 
 A HARTFIELD KETTLE-DRUM. 53 
 
 on the back-door steps, surrounded with wedges 
 of Washington and other pies, and a vista of 
 cream-cakes in the distance, no wonder if Joe 
 said to Johnnie, in the interval of bites, " Do you 
 think there's folks lives like this always ? "
 
 54 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 
 
 THE two parties reached home about the same 
 time, Madge the most exhausted apparently by 
 her labors, or amusements, as one might choose 
 to call them. 
 
 " Yes, it had been very pleasant," she said ; " at 
 least every one seemed to have enjoyed them- 
 selves ; but all picnics were so much alike, there 
 was not very much to tell about this one." And 
 to Rachel's surprise, she seemed rather more 
 interested to hear of the bee, and how Mrs. Par- 
 ker had enjoyed her presents, than to tell of her 
 own doings. Rachel thought that the next day 
 she would be sure to hear more, but the only 
 result seemed to be that Madge was less ready 
 than usual to sing over her work, and looked 
 more likely to cry than to laugh when her father 
 joked her about the day before. But at the 
 Lees' the picnic was more freely discussed. 
 
 " Mamma," Helen Lee said, coming into the 
 room where Mrs. Lee was always to be found in 
 the morning, keeping house with pen and ink, as
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 5$ 
 
 the family said, " you and I are apt to strike out 
 ideas without any consultation together ; I won- 
 der if a new thought has suggested itself to you 
 within a few days." 
 
 " I should not like to make this a test question 
 of our intimacy," her mother said, smiling ; "give 
 me a clue, and I will try to think the same thing 
 now, whether I have before or not." 
 
 " Well, then, Jack has certainly been very un- 
 like himself for the last few days ; I cannot 
 account for the change, unless he is in love." 
 
 "And I have been waiting to see when you 
 would open your eyes and find out how entirely 
 he has lost his heart to Madge Anderson. I 
 began to think of it some weeks ago, and yester- 
 day I felt sure." 
 
 " There was something going wrong yester- 
 day," Helen said. " It was successful enough as a 
 picnic, and I think that all the people we invited 
 enjoyed themselves ; byt I felt troubled all day, 
 Jack was so blue, and seemed to be doing nothing 
 but watch Mr. Forrester's attentions to Madge ; 
 and if Robert Forrester sets his heart on a flirta- 
 tion with her there will be trouble, for she is no 
 match for him." 
 
 " Yes, I watched that, too, and it added to my 
 worries ; but what do you think, Helen, does she 
 care for Jack, for I cannot decide ? " 
 
 " Neither can I ; and what is more, I doubt
 
 56 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 very much if Madge knows herself, or will know, 
 till he asks her. She is so used to winning every 
 one with her pretty ways, that she takes it all as 
 a matter of course. And then, too, it is not as if 
 Jack were the first man of his class in life whom 
 she had known. Think how Fred has always 
 played at making love to her, at.d she has taken 
 it just as it was meant, and perhaps she thinks 
 that Jack's devotion means no more. But, mam- 
 ma, suppose that he loves her, and she loves him, 
 what then would his father ever give his con- 
 sent to such a match ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me, dear, for I have no opinion to 
 give. I comfort myself with thinking that I am 
 perfectly innocent of having tried to influence the 
 matter in any way ; and so far as my knowledge 
 of Mr. Rowland goes, I should say that he was 
 quite as likely, for some reason of his own, or for 
 none at all, to approve the very thing one would 
 have thought most likely to displease him." 
 
 "I only hope," Helen said, "that dear little 
 Madge's happiness is not to be sacrificed." 
 
 A tap at the door, and Jack's face appeared at 
 the opening. " I hope I am not interrupting 
 secrets," he said, as he stood on the threshold. 
 
 " Not vital ones. You look as if you needed a 
 confidant more than I do, and mamma is the 
 great consoler. That is the reason she chooses 
 to sit in this little room, because there is only
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 57 
 
 room for two ; so the third party must go, whether 
 they will or not. Take her advice, Jack, what- 
 ever it is ; good luck always goes with mamma." 
 
 " Well, what is it, my dear ? " Mrs. Lee said, as 
 the door closed. "Come here on the sofa and 
 tell me all about it. I am relieved to talk to you, 
 for I felt as if there were thunder in the air." 
 
 " It's a great -deal," he said, " to me, at least ; 
 and to begin with, read that," handing her his 
 father's letter. 
 
 " This is a change," she said, when the letter 
 so characteristic of Mr. Rowland, full of affection 
 and selfishness, had been read ; " and a great dis- 
 appointment to you, to us all, if you must act 
 upon it. Have you made up your mind ? " 
 
 " Yes, I fought against it at first ; but there is 
 nothing else to do but go ; it need not be for 
 very long, if I manage judiciously. A few letters 
 from the older physicians, which I can easily 
 have, telling him that I can make myself of im- 
 portance here, will go a great way with him ; for 
 he is proud of me poor old father, and I feel 
 very sure that he will live contentedly here with 
 the new interests I shall bring around him. But 
 this is not all, Aunt Fanny : this was a matter of 
 duty which I must settle for myself. It is about 
 something else I want your advice." 
 
 " It's at your service, Jack, such as it is, and 
 a great deal of sympathy with it ; but if the sub-
 
 58 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ject is what I think, I believe you must settle 
 that too. I should not dare to influence you too 
 strongly in such a matter." 
 
 " Then, after all, it is no secret to you that I 
 have lost my heart to Helen's friend ? That is 
 the reason why I have been so savage over my 
 father's letter ; most disagreeable I have made 
 myself, I know. Now, what do you say, Aunt 
 Fanny, have I any reason to hope that she loves 
 me, and do you think that I could make her 
 happy ? " 
 
 " As to giving you advice, Jack, I feel too great 
 anxiety not only for your happiness, but for hers, 
 to take the responsibility of settling the matter. 
 It has been in my thoughts very much lately, and 
 I can give you the benefit of them." 
 
 " Yes, tell me honestly what you think. I love 
 Madge as dearly as a man can ; but if I know 
 myself, I would go off without a word, sooner 
 than ask her to marry me, if I thought it were 
 not for her happiness. You are afraid, I know, 
 that she should be unhappy if brought near my 
 father, .but I am sure that he is not quite what 
 you recollect him in my poor mother's life." 
 
 " But, Jack, will it not be a great disappoint- 
 ment to your father that you should marry a girl 
 whom he has never seen, and one whom he would 
 consider to be out of his own class a farmer's 
 daughter ? "
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 59 
 
 " I do not believe he would think of that. He 
 has been away from this country so long that 
 the name of half the families in New York soci- 
 ety would be as strange to him as hers. Her 
 beauty would have great influence with him, and 
 certainly I have seen no girl, since I came home, 
 whose manners were more sweet and lady-like 
 than hers." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; as far as that goes you need have 
 nothing to fear. The tone in her home is of real 
 refinement ; and Mrs. Anderson is what I call one 
 of the born ladies ; with Madge's tact, she would 
 soon catch the conventional air of any society 
 you chose to place her in." 
 
 And then Jack asked imploringly, did his aunt 
 believe that Madge loved him ? 
 
 She could give him no decided hope ; could 
 only say that she knew no reason why she should 
 not, and that Madge was not at all the sort of 
 girl, for all her frank cordial manner, who would 
 be likely to show her affections on the outside. 
 
 " I was so wretched yesterday that I believe I 
 behaved like a brute even to her ; but it was 
 rather more than I could stand to see Forrester 
 devoting himself to her, when I was longing to 
 have her to myself on the last day." 
 
 " Madge did not know that it was the last, or 
 perhaps she would have helped you to be rid of 
 him. That is one of the unequal things in a
 
 6O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 woman's lot; that she must stand still and receive 
 or not receive a man's attentions, as he chooses 
 to offer them." 
 
 Mrs. Lee would say nothing more ; he must do 
 the rest himself. She felt almost treacherous to 
 her good friends, the Andersons, in allowing such 
 a bomb-shell to burst among them without warn- 
 ing. 
 
 The conversation was a long one ; but Helen 
 told Jack, as they met in the hall, that he looked 
 so many shades less blue than when he went in, 
 that if he had had a very unfair share of her 
 mother's advice, she would not begrudge it to 
 him. Now was he ready for hers ? 
 
 " No," Jack said with a beaming smile ; " only a 
 cousinly kiss for good luck." 
 
 " It would have gone to my heart to have tried 
 to dissuade Jack, for he is desperately in earnest ; 
 so I am thankful that I felt no prickings of con- 
 science," Mrs. Lee said, in answer to her daugh- 
 ter's questioning. " We know that Jack would 
 make any woman as happy as his father would 
 let him ; and unless transplanting the wild flower 
 to a garden makes a very great change, Madge 
 will be a lovely wife." 
 
 .Since Jack had begun to think that the time 
 would come when he should dare to ask Madge 
 to be his wife, he had thought of himself as 
 making the offer at the place where he had first
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 6 1 
 
 seen her. Various impulsive beginnings he had 
 imagined, trusting that, when the time came, his 
 words would not fail him quite as soon as they 
 did in his meditations ; but still, if he did stam- 
 mer and make an idiot of himself, surely a wo- 
 man would know, almost without telling, when a 
 man was desperately in love with her ; and of 
 this only was he sure : that his love must be said, 
 stammered, or looked, standing by the old willow 
 on the banks of Sugar-bowl Pond. 
 
 The scene of the meeting had been no more ro- 
 mantic than the name of the meeting-place ; but this 
 was what had happened, and Jack had often thought 
 of it since with mingled fun and tenderness : He 
 had arrived from New York late in the afternoon, 
 and found the Lee house deserted, except by his 
 aunt, who told him that Helen had gone to walk 
 with some young friends staying with her. She 
 thought their destination had been a certain pond, 
 famous for water-lilies, at no great distance. 
 
 It was a lovely June evening ; and, after a long 
 day in the cars, he said he should be very glad 
 to stretch himself by a walk ; and receiving his 
 directions, started to find the party. The pond was 
 a little circular piece of water lying at the bottom 
 of a dell ; and as Jack came upon it out of the 
 woods and clambered down the bank, he saw only 
 an empty boat lying by the shore, but he heard 
 quite an astonishing sound. Helen Lee had
 
 62 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 been very much taken with a Venetian boat-song 
 which he had taught her in the winter, and was 
 always singing it about the house. She must have 
 kept up the habit here till the Hartfield birds had 
 caught it of her ; for from the branches of a wil- 
 low-tree, which hung over the pond, came the 
 notes of his barcarole, not sung, but whistled, 
 clear and true, in sweet trilling notes. The whis- 
 tle stopped in the middle of a strain, and he took 
 it up and finished the song as he came in view 
 of the other side of the great trunk. 
 
 If a flash of lightning had come out of the 
 clear sky, poor Madge could not have been more 
 confounded. Why, oh why had not she cured 
 herself fifteen minutes ago of this improper habit 
 of whistling, about which she had been so sol- 
 emnly warned often enough ? Never should an- 
 other pucker pass her lips. And what an object 
 she must present, perched on a willow-bough, 
 her feet dangling in the air, the consciousness of 
 a long rent in her dress, to be revealed when 
 she did reach the ground ! As if this were not 
 enough, Helen had amused herself in the boat 
 by crowning her with water-lilies, making an 
 Ophelia of her, as she said ; and they were still 
 hanging in her hair, finishing the absurdity of the 
 scene. 
 
 Madge was not given to dwelling on her ap- 
 pearance, experience having told her that it was,
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 63 
 
 as a rule, satisfactory ; but at that moment she 
 would have given much for a looking-glass, that 
 she might know the worst. 
 
 The scene, as it appeared to Jack, was this : 
 An enchantingly pretty girl, water-lilies resting 
 against her fair hair, their green and white con- 
 trasting with the flush in her cheeks ; her atti- 
 tude of unconscious grace, as she rested on the 
 bough, added to by the shimmer of green leaves 
 about her, and the light drapery of her dress, 
 which just revealed her pretty feet. 
 
 " You are very kind," she said, in answer to 
 Jack's offer of assistance, which he was only too 
 anxious to have accepted, " but I believe I must 
 scramble down as I scrambled up." 
 
 The exigency of the occasion gave energy to 
 her light movements ; and lifting her arms to the 
 bough above her, she managed to rise from her 
 seat, ^wing herself to the ground, and alight at 
 Jack's feet, before he could decide how he could 
 best help her. Of course, this was the foreign 
 cousin, the fascinating Jack, whose name was 
 always in Helen Lee's mouth. And there she 
 stood, an awkward country girl ; yes, fairly ready 
 to cry, quite unintentionally deceiving poor Jack 
 as to this being anything but the real Madge ; 
 this shy girl, whose hand trembled in his as he 
 helped her up the bank, and who scarcely dared 
 to look at him lest he should see the tears glit-
 
 64 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 tering in her eyes. It was not her fault if, before 
 the voices of her companions, were heard return- 
 ing from the woods, the woman who was en- 
 throned in his imagination was a different being 
 from the bright, sweet-tempered, but not roman- 
 tic girl, who thought far more of amusement than 
 sentiment. 
 
 In the afternoon, after his consultation with 
 Mrs. Lee, Jack strolled down to the farm. He 
 knew that Mrs. Anderson's early tea-hour was 
 over, and that he should be likely to find the sis- 
 ters freed from all occupation, and Madge at lib- 
 erty for a walk with him, if it pleased her to be 
 so. Rachel was sitting alone in the porch, read- 
 ing ; Madge, she said, had gone to the great barn, 
 to look for a favorite white hen, which was miss- 
 ing and supposed to be hidden in the hay. 
 
 " Might he go over and find her sister ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; she had, perhaps, gone up the lad- 
 der to the mow ; his cousin Helen would own to 
 as much climbing as that ; but if he would speak 
 below, Madge would hear him." 
 
 "Thank you;" then a pause, while Rachel 
 wondered if he could be waiting for her to offer 
 to go with him, which she had supposed at first 
 that he did not wish. 
 
 " Miss Anderson, will you give me leave to ask 
 your sister to go for a stroll with me ? I will bring 
 her safely back before dark. I leave Hartfield 
 to-morrow, and "
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 6$ 
 
 He looked too gloomy for Rachel to ask an 
 explanation of his sudden announcement, so she 
 only promised to account to her mother if Madge 
 were a little late, and let him go. The great barn 
 was empty when he went in, and no sound to be 
 heard except the champing of the cows ranged in 
 their stanchions for the night, and the twittering 
 of the swallows as they flew round and round 
 in the high roof ; but presently from above 
 came the sound of Madge's voice, expostulating, 
 apparently with energy, and accompanied by the 
 equally energetic clucking of a setting hen. 
 When the noise stopped for a moment, so that 
 he could announce his presence by making a 
 movement below, she called, " Oh, David, pray 
 come and help me with old Whitey ; she is all 
 together too much for me;" and as Jack's 
 head appeared above the ladder, "I am sure I 
 beg your pardon, Dr. Rowland ; I thought, of 
 course, it was my cousin when I heard your 
 step." 
 
 " But can't I help you as well ? Here I am at 
 your service. What is wanted ? Am I to wring 
 the hen's neck ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! only to lift her up while I take 
 the eggs away. You see, she requires to be held 
 firmly, and my hands are not quite equal to the 
 occasion," holding out two very pretty, but 
 ineffectual-looking palms, which Jack longed to
 
 66 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 take in his, but saw that Madge was extremely 
 in earnest over her work, and that he should re- 
 ceive no attention till " Whitey's " affairs were 
 settled. 
 
 " You are sure you are not afraid ? You need 
 not laugh, for an angry hen really requires care- 
 ful handling." 
 
 " I have no intention of laughing, for I was 
 just thinking she looked very unpleasantly like 
 fighting ; indeed, I should like it better if you 
 would speak of her as a griffin ; she looks fierce 
 enough, and it would be more to my credit if the 
 story of my bravery should ever be told." 
 
 " How well it would sound ' With supernat- 
 ural courage he had seized the griffin by her tail- 
 feathers, and ' Take care ; the story will have 
 a dismal ending if you are not more cautious. A 
 dozen eggs, I declare ! There now, you may put 
 her back, and to-morrow she shall have a practi- 
 cal lesson on obedience." 
 
 " Why have you never brought me here be- 
 fore ? " Dr. Rowland said ; " those arches are 
 quite fine in the twilight dimness above there." 
 
 " Yes, it is a favorite place of ours ; and here," 
 she said, leading him to the other side, "Helen 
 and Rachel and I have spent many a rainy after- 
 noon. Cows are supposed to object to having 
 their food trifled with, so father used to let us take 
 this end, and have our special mow for making
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 6/ 
 
 nests, and playing dolls. Rachel and I, even 
 now, often sit up here on the hay, on early spring 
 afternoons, when it is still chilly outside ; for the 
 sun comes through this little window. See, you 
 can imagine how lovely it is in apple-blossom 
 time, with that long slope to the river." 
 
 It was very lovely just then, with the red glow 
 of the sunset still over all the lines of the apple- 
 trees, as they looked down upon them, ranged in 
 green mounds with grassy aisles between ; and in 
 the low ground beyond, where the river wound, 
 a few scarlet and yellow maples mingled with the 
 willows. The window was so low that they were 
 obliged to seat themselves on the hay to look at 
 the view ; but as Madge turned to Dr. Rowland 
 with some playful remembrance of her childish 
 days, there was an expression on his face which 
 checked her. Silence would seem to be the easi- 
 est course under embarrassment ; but, on the 
 contrary, the more difficult it is to say the right 
 thing, the more bent one's mind seems to be on 
 suggesting the wrong one ; and Madge sat in 
 what was, for her, unusual silence, feeling as if 
 there were no subject she could bring up which 
 would not lead to the events of yesterday ; and 
 that, she felt, would be dangerous ground. 
 
 Jack was sitting, elbows on knees, gazing out 
 of the window in a dreamy way, and presently 
 said, without looking at her :
 
 68 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET 
 
 " And do you think an Augusf picnic as pleas- 
 ant as one in June ? " 
 
 " I suppose that all picnics are not pleasant, 
 even in June. That day at Cedar Hill was par- 
 ticularly delightful ; it was so early in the season 
 that the woods were in their first freshness, and 
 I suppose we all had something of the same feel- 
 ing about us ; and then yesterday there were 
 strangers, and I think we were all trying a little 
 hard to entertain each other." 
 
 " And it seemed to be a successful effort," he 
 said with a little laugh, not quite so pleasant a 
 one as was usual to him. 
 
 " Oh, I hope so. Mrs. Lee told us that if the 
 strangers of the party enjoyed themselves, she 
 did not care about us ; that is to say, for her own 
 children, and for me, and of course she included 
 you. She said that there would still be lovely 
 weather for some of our long days in the woods, 
 with only our two households. That was the 
 reason our June day was so lovely, it was like 
 old times." 
 
 " I wish I had had a share in the old times, for 
 I should have had more happy days to remember, 
 and I fear I have had my last one here for a long 
 while." Then, very abruptly, he said : " I must 
 tell you why I have been so detestably blue and 
 cross for the last few days my Hartfield pleas- 
 ures are over, and I have come to say good-b ; e 
 to you."
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 69 
 
 A basket of eggs is an awkward thing to hold 
 with a trembling hand, and Madge deposited hers 
 on the floor, clearing her throat gently to make 
 sure that her voice could be depended on, before 
 she answered with exactly the proper amount of 
 friendly interest, as she flattered herself. 
 
 " You are going to begin your work in New 
 York, then, sooner than you had expected ? but 
 I hope you will come back to see us before the 
 autumn is quite over." 
 
 " I shall see you again before that ; but it will 
 be to say good-bye for a still longer time. The 
 fact is, I have had a tremendous uprooting of my 
 plans in the last few days. My father is ill, and 
 I must join him in Europe. I hope it may end 
 in our both returning together ; but for the pres- 
 ent I must give up everything, and it is a great 
 disappointment." 
 
 He was more miserable after he had spoken 
 than before. Madge seemed to be taking his an- 
 nouncement even more quietly than he had ex- 
 pected, without the expression of regret, which 
 surely she might have shown at parting, if only 
 from a summer's friend. There she sat, looking, 
 so far as he could see, quite placid, and show- 
 ing less interest than he had seen her take in 
 giving up an afternoon's amusement, her eyes 
 cast downward, and apparently quite occupied in 
 watching an arrangement of straws on the floor,
 
 7O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 which she was making with her foot. He could 
 have had it in his heart to take her by the arm 
 and shake her out of her composure, anything 
 rather than to sit still and bear her unsympa- 
 thizing silence. 
 
 Poor little Madge ! with her heart throbbing so 
 that it was almost pain, and the hands clasped 
 upon her knee, growing cold with the effort she 
 was making to show no sign ; for to her the 
 announcement of his departure was at that mo- 
 ment of little matter, compared with the shock 
 of finding that it could move her so deeply. 
 Half an hour ago, she had been counting up the 
 weeks left before the Lees would have made 
 their November flitting to New York, and think- 
 ing how much pleasure there still was before her, 
 with the hope, too, that this year her father and 
 mother might be persuaded into letting her make 
 the wished for winter visit to Helen ; and now 
 she could not understand her own misery, and 
 was so absorbed with her fear lest she should 
 betray herself by look or word, that she had little 
 thought as to any pain she was causing by the 
 quiet tone in which she said : 
 
 " You must be very sorry to give up all your 
 winter arrangements ; but I* hope your father is 
 not seriously ill." 
 
 He looked at her again. What folly to sup- 
 pose that a girl who cared for him could feel no
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. /I 
 
 more interest in his affairs than this ! Possibly, 
 when it came to the time for his final leave-taking, 
 she might find that she felt more for him than she 
 herself knew ; but this was no time to speak. 
 
 " He is not very ill, I think ; but he needs me, 
 for I am all that he has. In fact," said Jack, start- 
 ing up from his seat, " I find this saying ' good- 
 bye ' so detestable, that I am almost glad to think 
 there are so few chances, when I get across the 
 water, of finding any one beside my father, who 
 cares whether I come and go or not." 
 
 Madge would not see the hand which he put 
 out to help her to rise, and waited till she found 
 herself standing in the dim light, under the slop- 
 ing roof, before she said : 
 
 " It has been such a pleasant summer that we 
 shall all miss you ; it must be a great disappoint- 
 ment to Helen." 
 
 " I think Helen will be sorry," he answered, in 
 an almost bitter tone, which made her feel that it 
 was useless, for this evening at least, to attempt 
 to express even as much regret as he had a right 
 to expect. 
 
 Without speaking, they crossed the green to the 
 house. The porch was vacant, for it was growing 
 dusk ; the lamp was lighted, and the curtains 
 drawn, and Madge would gladly have gone in, but 
 he paused, and, taking both her hands in his, said : 
 
 " I shall see you again before I sail, but I feel
 
 72 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 as if to-night I were saying good-bye to the hap- 
 piest summer of my life." 
 
 Why would he not go, that she might be alone, 
 or escape to Rachel, her other self, who would 
 comfort her tears without asking what caused 
 them ? But there he stayed, gazing at her think- 
 ing all the while that he might possibly have seen 
 her looking prettier than at that moment, but 
 never so lovable and earnest, so like the woman 
 he could wish to make his wife. 
 
 She tried to answer cheerfully : 
 
 " Why not hope that you have as happy sum- 
 mers to come ? Not exactly like this, perhaps, 
 but you have certainly every chance of making 
 your life as agreeable as you can wish." 
 
 " I know plenty of men would be thankful 
 to lead just the life to which I am going ; but 
 what is the good of it to me, when I have set my 
 whole Tieart on something else ? I shall make the 
 best of it by-and-by, but just now it's very hard." 
 
 If she could have spoken, she would have told 
 him that he might comfort himself with remem- 
 bering that a Hartfield winter was dull enough, 
 whatever the summers might be ; but she had 
 come to the end of her tether, and could not have 
 uttered another word without a sob. 
 m He pressed her hand in his was gone ; but 
 had taken only a few steps from her when he 
 turned and came back, saying, impetuously, " It
 
 AFTER THE STEED WAS STOLEN. 73 
 
 is of no use ; I cannot go without speaking to 
 you, though you give me no encouragement." 
 
 She leaned against the porch, with her face 
 turned from him, and as he laid his hand upon 
 her arm in his earnestness, he could feel her 
 tremble. 
 
 " I came to-night, Madge, thinking that I should 
 tell you how dearly I loved you. But I see you 
 have never thought of me as a lover at all ; but I 
 think I may ask this much : that while I am away 
 you will try if it is not possible that you could 
 learn to care for me, and before I sail give me a 
 hope to take with me." 
 
 The words that came were so low that he bent 
 his head to hear them. 
 
 " I can say as much as that ; but, indeed, I did 
 not know it till now. I am very sorry to part with 
 you." 
 
 Rachel was no longer needed as a comforter, 
 for his arm was round her, and his words of happy 
 love were all she cared to hear. 
 
 There was but a short time for the few words* 
 which were all that were needed, to express their 
 mutual relief at understanding one another, when 
 the sound of Mr. Anderson's wagon-wheels re- 
 turning from the village interrupted them. 
 
 Madge was not sorry that he refused to go in 
 with her, for she longed to be alone with Rachel 
 now, as, much as she had a short time before.
 
 74 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET! 
 
 Rachel's sympathy was needed to make her own 
 happiness seem real ; and Jack would come in the 
 morning, he said, to break the news, and make his 
 peace. 
 
 " Your mother may ask what she has ever done 
 to me, that I should rob her so cruelly, and I am 
 afraid that only half my task is done yet." 
 
 Madge would take no doubtful view. Rachel 
 would help them, would make her father and 
 mother feel it was the happiest thing in the world ; 
 and they had always liked him. 
 
 Rachel might grieve that she should no longer 
 have the exclusive right to Madge's confidence ; 
 but all such regrets must now be laid aside till the 
 time when she should have no one but herself to 
 think about. 
 
 To her mother and father it was a shock, at first, 
 to feel that their child was in a measure to be 
 removed from their own sphere of life ; but to 
 Madge they showed only their sympathy in her 
 happiness, and it was impossible not to respond 
 heartily to Jack, when he evidently felt himself 
 the luckiest fellow in the world, and so fully ap- 
 preciated the sacrifice he asked of them.
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 MRS. LEE appeared the next morning full of 
 interest, and with so much to tell of Jack's high 
 character as a man, and pleasant home qualities, 
 that, though the mother came forth from the long 
 closeting with rather tearful eyes, she could say 
 that she was heartily grateful for Madge's hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Jack did not feel himself to be quite such a 
 robber, since Madge was to be left at home for 
 some months he carrying out his plan of sailing 
 in a month or two for Europe, but feeling quite 
 sure that he could arrange matters to return in 
 the spring for their marriage. 
 
 It was, after all, a trying day at the farm-house, 
 everybody feeling so much for everybody else ; and 
 at twilight the father and mother were thankful to 
 find themselves sitting side by side in the porch ; 
 Madge and Dr. Rowland having gone off for a 
 walk to Sugar-bowl Pond. If Rachel were crying 
 quietly by her window up-stairs, no one would be 
 the wiser when she came down, cheery and pleas-
 
 76 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ant, to light the lamp, and read the newspaper to 
 her father. 
 
 " Well, Hester," Mr. Anderson said, patting the 
 hand which lay on the arm of the chair, placed by 
 the side of his own ; " we've had rather a hard 
 day's work of it, my dear. I think giving away a 
 daughter 's a good bit worse than making an offer 
 yourself; for I mind the day after you said you'd 
 have me, it was haying time, and I should 
 like to have mowed straight from here to Boston, 
 just to quiet me down ; but to-night I declare I 
 ache in every bone. Well, well, it's, the beginning 
 of the end, I suppose." 
 
 " Joseph," said the wife's gentle voice, but with a 
 sound of tears in it, " I've thought of this happi- 
 ness before now. Women do plan over such foolish 
 things, you know ; but I've always said to myself 
 that if one of my girls could have a husband to 
 love, and to love her, and be what you've been to 
 me, I'd be only too thankful to sit down at home 
 alone, and think how happy she was. You see, 
 dear, we didn't either of us have father or mother 
 to say good-bye to ; hut I've thought, when I've 
 heard parents bewailing their children leaving 
 them as if they'd a right to them body and soul, 
 that I would have left everything, and gone to the 
 world's end sooner than be parted from you. 
 We've a happy old age before us, please God, and 
 we will let our children have their young days all 
 to themselves."
 
 THE WEDDING. 77 
 
 " That's right, dear ; keep me up to the mark 
 with your good words, and I'll keep my old 
 self out of the way, and only think of the young 
 ones, and how happy they're going to be. Why, 
 there was I ploughing this morning, and couldn't 
 tell whether it was the oxen or I wouldn't go 
 straight, and the furrows crooked enough to make 
 you squint, all because my eyes kept filling up 
 to think that my girl was going to marry as nice 
 a young fellow as ever lived, with brains and good 
 principles, and plenty of everything to make her 
 comfortable." But presently he said, " Do you 
 know how David took Madge's news ? " 
 
 " It's not so very easy to know what David 
 thinks ; he's not one to say much. Rachel found 
 a chance to tell him before he went off, and I saw 
 him walking up and down the currant walk after- 
 wards, with his shoulders up and his head bent 
 down, as he does when he is planning some of 
 his new contrivances ; but he has not been at 
 home since." ' 
 
 " Do you know, Hester, I haVe had my plans 
 too. I used to think how pleased I should be if 
 he would fancy our little girl, and sometimes I 
 thought he did ; but I suppose she never had 
 any notion of him. She might have done worse, 
 though." 
 
 " Seeing too much of a man is sometimes more 
 against a girl caring for him than if they met
 
 78 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ever so little. Madge has always been so used 
 to David that there never was a time when she 
 could begin to fall in love with him. And you 
 need not regret it. Our darling is a little wilful, 
 and^needs a good firm hand to lead her; and 
 David has always given way to her ever since 
 she was a baby, and would to the end of the 
 chapter." 
 
 "I dare say you're right, only if they could 
 have married, I think I should have loved the 
 old place all the better to know that it would have 
 been the Anderson farm after we were gone, 
 and another generation growing up on it. If it 
 had pleased the Lord to let our own little fellow 
 stay and try what this world was like there, 
 there, dear, I'm not repining ; but it's nature to 
 wish our own to come after us, and have the using 
 of what we've set so much Jsy. As to David, I 
 don't know, after all, if he could have tied him- 
 self to the farm, though the old house might 
 have always been a home to him. I begin to 
 think we shall Be proud of David one of these 
 days ; for they tell me he's amazing clever in some 
 of his inventions. Mr. Norcross told me, last 
 night, that they think a deal of him at the factory, 
 and there's some talk of his having a patent for 
 this new idea of his that you've seen him working 
 at early and late." 
 
 David Anderson would have been surprised to
 
 THE WEDDING. 79 
 
 know that there was any question as to how he 
 would take the news of Madge's engagement. 
 How could he take it but in one way ? what was 
 for her happiness. And he believed that this 
 would be. As he walked up and down the cur- 
 rant walk he was thinking that he liked that 
 young doctor exceedingly, shrewd fellow as ever 
 was. How quickly he took the idea of that new 
 wheel of his at the factory. Tender-hearted, too ; 
 there weren't many who'd have taken the interest 
 in an animal that didn't belong to them that he 
 did, the night that he sat up with the black horse, 
 trying everything that could be done to spare the 
 creature's suffering saved his life, when all the 
 old hands said he might as well be shot, first as 
 last. 
 
 And then David's head was bent a little lower 
 as he thought of what his own loss was to be. 
 Lately, some fancies had been forming in his 
 brain (he would have been confounded if he could 
 have thought that any one would have suspected 
 him of such boldness) ; but since Mr. Norcross 
 had told him that his improvements on some of 
 the machinery at the factory where he had been 
 foreman for the last two years, and which had 
 been the occupation of his leisure hours, were 
 likely to lead to the starting on a prosperous ca- 
 reer, he had had visions of a home of his own, 
 and had thought what a pleasant thing it must be
 
 So FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 for a man to feel that he had a certainty of com- 
 fort and prosperity to offer the woman he loved. 
 They were only visions. If Madge learned to 
 care for this comparative stranger in one summer, 
 she never could have given a thought of the kind 
 to him ; and how glad he was that he had let her 
 have no hint of what would have disturbed his 
 brotherly relations to her. He believed that 
 Madge did feel to him like a dear sister, and he 
 half wished it showed what a selfish fellow he 
 was, too, to have such a thought that she was 
 not going to be quite so well off, so that his 
 money, if he ever had any, might be of use to her. 
 
 Jack went off to New York the next day, and 
 Madge led a felicitous life, receiving letters from 
 him daily, and a flying visit every now and then ; 
 for he was very busy accomplishing all that he 
 wished, that he might have a week or two at 
 Hartfield, clear of all business, before he sailed. 
 
 But one day he appeared with a face of care 
 and trouble. Mrs. Lee dropped her work and 
 looked at him in consternation. 
 
 " Have you bad news, Jack ? " 
 
 " Indeed I don't know ; tell me what to answer 
 to this, " handing her a letter received from his 
 father the day before. It was written in answer 
 to Jack's announcing his engagement. 
 
 Mr. Howland wrote that nothing could give 
 him greater pleasure than to hear that his son
 
 THE WEDDING. 8 1 
 
 was to be happily married, and to a young lady 
 receiving the approval of his mother's family. So 
 far from objecting, he only begged that Jack 
 would be married with as little delay as possible, 
 and bring his wife to receive a father's blessing 
 before he died. He was very ill, could live but a 
 short time, and it would cheer the last hours of a 
 sad life to enjoy the delight of having a daughter, 
 a happiness he had so long coveted. 
 
 Mrs. Lee read and pondered. She could not in 
 her heart think that there was any occasion for 
 this haste ; but still, Jack evidently believed in 
 his father's having grown worse. 
 
 " You see, Aunt Fanny, if my father is correct 
 in the details of his symptoms, he is very ill ; and 
 if I am to go alone, I must start immediately. 
 To accomplish my marriage as he wishes, of 
 course I should be obliged to delay a little ; but 
 how can I have the face to go down and ask the 
 Andersons to let me carry off their child within a 
 fortnight ? Now that the idea of taking her with 
 me is suggested, I feel as if it would be too hard 
 to go alone ; and I declare I don't know in what 
 words to put my request. Perhaps Madge her- 
 self will say it is impossible." 
 
 " Your best way, I think, will be to take the 
 letter to them, ask them to read it, and give you 
 their answer." 
 
 The advice was taken ; and leaving the letter
 
 82 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 with the father and mother, Jack went off with 
 Madge to await his sentence. 
 
 It seemed at first impossible to consent, and 
 on further thought as impossible to refuse. It was 
 only for their own sake that they could do so, for 
 Madge, of course, would easily overcome any re- 
 luctance, if assured that they were willing. She 
 would have much to enjoy ; would return, proba- 
 bly, before many months were over. If it were 
 to be done, the young people should not think 
 that the older ones were sacrificing their hap- 
 piness, and the letter was returned to Jack's 
 hands, with a cheerful acquiescence beyond his 
 utmost hope. He had been made to feel by his 
 father, that youth was to be worn with an apology 
 for treading so closely upon the heels of old age. 
 
 The days passed rapidly enough, though Jack 
 had insisted that not one moment should be 
 wasted on anything but the necessary prepara- 
 tions for the voyage, as Madge could fit herself 
 out with everything necessary as soon as she 
 arrived in Paris. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson felt very thankful for the fore- 
 thought which had always kept the old-fashioned 
 chest of drawers, belonging to her own mother, 
 filled with an indefinite quantity of white gar- 
 ments, in case of Well, no one knew what 
 emergency in this world would ever require such 
 a number of dozens of everything ; but Mrs. An-
 
 THE WEDDING. 83 
 
 derson had sewed her long seams of exquisitely 
 even stitches, as some women go on filling up 
 patterns of worsted work all their days. And now 
 it was a comfort that, though Dr. Rowland might 
 he allowed to buy what dresses he pleased for his 
 wife, everything else in her wardrobe would re- 
 mind her of home. She hoped the dear child 
 would not be homesick when she looked at moth- 
 er's button-holes. 
 
 The wedding morning came a soft, beautiful 
 Indian-summer day. They were to be married 
 at home ; and the sisters and Helen Lee had 
 made the pleasant farmhouse parlor bright with 
 branches of autumn leaves, and the last chrys- 
 anthemums and asters from Madge's garden. 
 
 When a party of people are each anxious to 
 spare the other as much as possible, it tends 
 wonderfully to self-control ; and Jack had done 
 his best in the last few weeks to remove all 
 restraint in his intercourse with the Anderson 
 family, and make the mother and father feel that 
 the man to whom they were about to intrust 
 their child was to be to them really like a son of 
 their own. 
 
 So when the family gathered together for the 
 marriage service, with only the Lees, whose love 
 was the same for both the young people, the only 
 feeling was that of pure gratitude for the happi- 
 ness of one so dear to them all.
 
 84 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Madge, standing there in her white muslin 
 dress, hitherto kept sacred to Sunday wear, the 
 dress which was to be laid away in lavender, and 
 smoothed by the mother's hand as lovingly as if 
 it were Madge herself, could not come back to 
 them quite the same child who had been the de- 
 light of their lives ; but how much was to be 
 added to hers ! 
 
 Madge's were the only tears shed when it 
 came to the last moment, and she was to drive 
 from the door "all by herself and away from 
 them all," as she said. 
 
 " My darling, do you call my son Jack no- 
 body ? " her father said, with his parting kiss.
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 85 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 
 
 THE tender sorrow of that autumn day could 
 not, with all their unselfishness, but have deep- 
 ened into grief, had they all known how long the 
 separation was to be. 
 
 On their arrival in Paris, Jack found his father 
 seriously ill ; but the constant watchfulness of his 
 son, and the happy change from his solitary life, 
 produced so favorable an effect upon some of the 
 more painful symptoms of his disease, that the 
 winter was far more cheerful than any one had 
 anticipated. 
 
 Madge wrote that her reception by her father- 
 in-law had been all that they could desire for her ; 
 and Jack added accounts of his father's delight in 
 the presence 'of her beauty and grace in his sick- 
 room, and of the interest he found in training 
 her in the ways of her new life. Indeed the 
 old man was softening very much under this new 
 experience with his lovely young daughter, and 
 bearing his suffering with a courage which sur- 
 prised, as much as it endeared him to, his son.
 
 86 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 The long, journal-like letters were the delight 
 of the winter evenings in the farm-house. Mr. 
 Anderson, a reader always, had been fond of 
 travels and voyages, but they were of the improv- 
 ing and statistical kind ; and to hear from his 
 own little Madge a minute account of the life in 
 a foreign city was like a romance. Mrs. Lee 
 supplied them with all sorts of reading to supple- 
 ment the letters, so that he told his wife he 
 thought they were very lucky to have their travel- 
 ling done by proxy, and save all the wear and tear 
 of their old bones. 
 
 The first disappointment came in June ; but it 
 was accompanied with the promise of a great hap- 
 piness, when Jack wrote that he thought it wiser 
 that Madge s'hould await her confinement abroad. 
 Of course, under such circumstances there was 
 no reason for regret, or for any feeling except the 
 natural anxieties. 
 
 Then came the birth of their little boy, with 
 Jack's pride in his size and fine proportions, and 
 Madge's loving message, " of the look like father, 
 and mother's curls and brown eyes ; " and after 
 that bad news, and the long waiting for that 
 terrible telegram, as those, kneeling on the deck 
 of a foundering vessel, wait for the final parting 
 and plunge below. 
 
 But they were spared this pang, and Madge 
 slowly crept back to life, though months passed
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 8/ 
 
 before she was again her own bright self; and 
 when the time came that they might at last have 
 turned their faces homeward, it was no longer 
 possible for Mr. Rowland to make the voyage. 
 His vitality was so great that he might linger as 
 he had done, no one could say for how long ; but 
 America had no charm for him, and it would have 
 been cruel to subject him to the risk of greater 
 suffering. 
 
 They had been gone four years, was it to be 
 another four ? Anything seemed possible now, 
 and it was but dismal consolation to those at 
 home to know how the exiles were wearying to 
 be with them again. 
 
 During the last year a most unexpected sorrow 
 had come to the farm-house : Rachel's eyesight 
 was failing, and terrible need had they of comfort 
 in this affliction, which fell so heavily on them 
 all. A trouble of the eyes, of which the old phy- 
 sician of Hartfield had warned her she must take 
 great heed, had been much aggravated by the 
 care of her father during an illness in the winter, 
 a short, but severe attack, leaving no time 
 for thought of herself ; and Rachel had watched 
 night after night, only too thankful to be able to 
 spare her mother. But when all fear was over, 
 Rachel found that to pain was added an increas- 
 ing dimness. 
 
 The Lees were in Europe this year, and by
 
 88 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the time that it was decided that Rachel must 
 consult an experienced oculist, it was summer 
 weather ; and then came weeks of homesick dis- 
 comfort in a city hotel. The physician told them, 
 at length, that their longer stay at present would 
 be of no use ; they must be very thankful that he 
 did not say that the case was hopeless (for there 
 were many such), but in a few months he could 
 decide. 
 
 So they returned, gladly exchanging the dusty 
 luxury of a hotel-room for the beautiful nicety 
 and sweet scents of the country home, enjoyed by 
 them now as never before. , The summer was 
 tided over by the hope the physician had given 
 them, and each one, for the sake of the other, 
 made this mean the most that was possible, till at 
 last they grew to believe in it. 
 
 Still hoping, Rachel made use of what little 
 light was left her in learning to find her way 
 about the house easily, that her faltering foot- 
 steps might not make so constant an appeal to 
 her father and mother ; and wonderful deeds of 
 knitting were already performed by her busy 
 hands. 
 
 " This is comfortable," Rachel said, one Oc- 
 tober afternoon, as Mrs. Richards came in, bring- 
 ing an atmosphere of cheerfulness with her, " for 
 mother has just driven over with father to Mr. 
 White's, to look at a great beauty of a Jersey
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 89 
 
 cow, which they are to buy, if she is as good as 
 she is handsome." 
 
 " Yes, I met them as I came along, and told 
 them I could stay a while ; so your mother can 
 enjoy her ride, for it's a beautiful bright after- 
 noon." 
 
 " I'm glad of that. I think mother is beginning 
 to understand how much better it is for us both 
 that we should not be so entirely dependent on 
 each other. She brightens herself up by going 
 out, and brings back something to me, but I 
 know it seems to her just like leaving a baby 
 alone in its cradle. To-day, dear souls, they are 
 both a little down-hearted, for it is Madge's wed- 
 ding-day. Only think, Mrs. Richards, four years ! 
 Madge's baby walking and talking, and we never 
 to have had him in our arms yet ! " 
 
 " And no word of any change in the poor old 
 gentleman ? " 
 
 " None, except from his suffering to weakness ; 
 and so it must be to the end, Dr. Howland 
 writes." 
 
 " I suppose Madge knows the state of things 
 here ; you don't try to keep your trouble from 
 her, do you ? " 
 
 " You know that mother and father would not 
 speak anything but the truth, even to save their 
 children pain ; but we have tried to tell all the 
 facts without enlarging on them, and let Madge
 
 90 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 take a hopeful view of them in her- bright way. 
 Of course she knows of our Boston visit, and it 
 is a long time since she had a letter from me." 
 
 " I suppose it wouldn't be possible for Madge 
 to come home now, and let her husband follow 
 when it's all over there." 
 
 "Oh, no ; I don't think anything would justify 
 our asking that, except a case of life and death, 
 when Madge would want to come for her own 
 comfort." 
 
 " There was a time, a while ago, when I was in 
 such an agony for the sight of her face, that I 
 could have been selfish enough to have asked any 
 sacrifice; but now "and the sigh with which 
 she spoke was almost a groan " I could not 
 see her if she came." 
 
 Rachel dropped her work to wipe away the tear 
 or two which rolled down her cheek, and Mrs. 
 Richards laid her hand on hers, with a loving 
 little sound of sympathy, such as one would make 
 to a grieving child. 
 
 Rachel responded with a warm pressure, say- 
 ing, "You are wishing you could say something 
 to comfort me ; but you are doing more than you 
 can imagine when you come here and let me have 
 the comfort of giving way to you. Sometimes I 
 think that we three here at home pay the penalty 
 for being so much to each other, by one taking 
 the sorrow of all the others. It is rather a dis-
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 9! 
 
 mal little sum in arithmetic to find how much it 
 would all come to," she said, trying to smile 
 through her tears. 
 
 % " It's very good in you, Rachel, to tell me that 
 I comfort you, for I sometimes feel as if it was 
 only I who got all the good of coming here, and 
 seeing you all so patient. Some people seem to 
 think that they can offer you a text just as they 
 want you to take their medicine, without knowing 
 whether it's, the best thing for you or not ; but I 
 know I'd rather take the lesson my heavenly Fa- 
 ther gives me to learn, and puzzle it out my own 
 way. I remember the afternoon I was sitting by 
 my little Susie ; she looked so sweet lying there 
 in her white gown, and her posies in her hand, 
 just as if she was going to Sunday school, that I 
 do believe I'd forgotten that I shouldn't have 
 her any more ; and I was just thinking how happy 
 she was, safe in her Saviour's hands, when in 
 came Deacon Johnson, good-hearted man as ever 
 lived, and feeling so much for me that it was 
 running out of his eyes ; and there he began talk- 
 ing about the great white throne and the troops 
 of angels, till I got so homesick and scared, 
 thinking of Susie in all that crowd, that I could 
 have screamed right out. And that was his idea 
 of heaven, and he thought he was giving me ever 
 so much help ; only he was a man, and liked to 
 imagine something great and solemn ; and I want-
 
 9 2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ed to think of my little darling being made much 
 of, just as if she was at home. So, since then, 
 I've made up my mind that I would make people 
 as comfortable as I knew how with my love and 
 my nursing, but I'd leave the teaching to the 
 
 Lord." 
 
 If you soothe everyone as you do me, by just 
 sitting near with your sympathy, you may leave 
 the texts to be spoken by some one else with a 
 clear conscience. I think, when one is in 
 trouble, that it is the nerves, more than the soul, 
 that want ministering to. I don't mean to say 
 that I am unhappy all the time, by any means ; 
 but days come when it's all as dark in my mind 
 as outside, and then it is very trying to have even 
 the kindest person in the world come and per- 
 suade me to feel reconciled, as if it was not the 
 struggle of my life to be reconciled, when I dare 
 trust myself to think of what I have lost." 
 
 " Now, dear child, I believe there you make a 
 mistake, to keep your mind in a turmoil with try- 
 ing to be reconciled to what ? Why, to giving 
 up the pleasure of seeing this world, which our 
 Father has made just as beautiful as ever he 
 could, for us .to look at. No ; I think it's like 
 telling us mothers that we ought to be perfectly 
 willing to give up our little children after He has 
 filled our hearts with all this love for them, so 
 that we could stand the worry and care that
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 93 
 
 comes with them. I love my God all the better 
 because He's got the care of them, and try my 
 best to be good enough to go to them by and by ; 
 and I believe that's what He wants me to feel, 
 and I never could get one bit nearer to it while I 
 was trying to make myself submissive, right 
 against the nature He gave me. I am preach- 
 ing, after all, dear ; but I've had these thoughts 
 when I've been through some pretty dark places, 
 and I do so want to help you." 
 
 "And you have helped me, dear Mrs. Richards. 
 It was just what I needed this afternoon ; for I 
 had gone down to the depths. I shall lay it all 
 by to think of when I am alone, for now I want 
 to show you something pleasant. If you will 
 look in mother's work-table drawer, you will find 
 Madge's last letter. I make every one read her 
 letters to me till I know them almost by heart." 
 
 One of these letters was always a great treat 
 to Mrs. Richards, who seemed to feel a reflected 
 honor in the fact that Madge, whom she had 
 carried in her arms, should be leading a life which 
 was to her "just like a story-book, and I would 
 give something to see her dear little mouth 
 screwed up to say some of those queer foreign 
 words. I 'most think I should understand a 
 little myself, if I could hear her do a few of 
 them." 
 
 The letter, and all the conversation it led to,
 
 94 
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 made the afternoon pass so quickly, that they 
 started at the sound of wheels. 
 
 " Dear me ! Why, there's your mother back 
 again, and I hadn't the first idea it was so late. 
 I do suppose every blessed child in the Richards 
 family is standing out in the front yard, calling 
 for mother, and I must clip it home just as fast 
 as ever I can." 
 
 Mrs. Anderson came in from her drive, looking 
 very bright, and as she spoke, Rachel said : 
 
 " Why, mother, there's the sound of a letter in 
 your roice ; has another come so soon ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; and I can't think it's wrong to be 
 happy, for even Jack says he was thankful when 
 it was all over and he saw his father at rest." 
 
 The letter was written the very day that Mr. 
 Rowland's death so long expected that at 
 last it took everybody by surprise had set 
 himself and them free. Nothing but the neces- 
 sary arrangements would detain them, and there 
 would probably be time for but one letter more, 
 to say in what steamer they should sail. 
 
 The days passed as quickly as in that October 
 four years ago. The mother was busy, heart and 
 hands, with all the arrangements for the comfort 
 of the travellers, who were to come to Hartfield 
 as soon as they landed. 
 
 There was a sunny room chosen by them all to 
 be little Phil's nursery, close to his mother's ;
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 95 
 
 while one of the prettiest windows in the house 
 was suddenly discovered to have been wasting its 
 view of the river on trunks and boxes, which must 
 now be turned out, and a comfortable little study 
 made for Dr. Rowland. 
 
 It was Rachel who planned all the pretty 
 effects of furniture, curtains and pictures ; and no 
 one would have thought, when she said, " Hang 
 these Venice photographs where the light will 
 strike among the arches," or, " Place Dr. How- 
 land's chair and desk here, where he can look 
 through the trees to the river," that it was 
 already but a memory to her, and with what a 
 pang she strove to bring to. her mind every touch 
 of the scene so soon to be before the eyes of those 
 she loved. 
 
 These were terribly hard days for Rachel, 
 all the harder, that the painful emotions they 
 wrought were a great surprise to her. 
 
 " A little while ago," she thought to herself, " I 
 should have said that all my sorrow would have 
 disappeared in the thought that I should hear 
 the sound of Madge's voice again ; and now I 
 feel as if I never had known before what I have 
 lost. If I could but grow used to it all ! But I 
 wake in the morning, feeling as if I had strength for 
 whatever the day may bring, and before night I 
 have gained some new knowledge of how I can 
 suffer. If this is to be always so, how can I 
 ever grow calm and patient ? "
 
 96 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 One person had been a great comfort to Ra- 
 chel from the beginning of her sorrow. " The 
 best of Davids" as she used to call him - 
 gave her a sense of being quietly cared for as 
 by no one else ; for at times she was oppressed 
 even by the intense sympathy with which her 
 father and mother watched over her, adding their 
 suffering to hers. 
 
 David's words were few. When Madge had 
 taken him to task long ago for being so quiet, he 
 would answer : 
 
 " But, dear, why should I speak if I have 
 nothing to say ?" 
 
 Madge thought the house would be very dull 
 if she stopped talking for so slight a reason as 
 that, and he must keep on as she did till he was 
 able to say something worth hearing. 
 
 David had gone on in his silent way, and the 
 four years had made a great change in him, from 
 the serious young fellow with his heavy, slouch- 
 ing figure, to a man whose fine head and face 
 were all in keeping with the promise of his intel- 
 ligence. He had already made his mark among 
 men, and his patents had proved so successful 
 that he was now part-owner in the large mill 
 where he had begun as workman. 
 
 He could no longer, of course, make the farm 
 his constant home ; but the tie of affection was 
 stronger than ever. He gave the old people the
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 9/ 
 
 love of a son ; and when Rachel counted up the 
 blessings still left to her, among the foremost 
 was her brother David. 
 
 He was to go to New York to meet the How- 
 lands on their arrival a great comfort to Ra- 
 chel, who felt that it might spare them all much 
 pain, that Madge should be able to talk with 
 some one from home, who would prepare her 
 more than any writing could do for the great 
 change in her sister. 
 
 " You will try to make her understand every- 
 thing as tenderly as you can," Rachel said to 
 him as they sat together the evening before he 
 went. 
 
 " Indeed I will," he said ; " but she knows the 
 worst, doesn't she ? " 
 
 " Mother has always meant to be perfectly 
 truthful, and I am sure she has been ; but now 
 that we are face to face with the reality, I am so 
 afraid lest we may not have prepared Madge as 
 we should do. Oh, David, it is of myself that I 
 am afraid ; how can I ever bear this longing to 
 see her again patiently ? and I shall make my 
 sorrow hers." 
 
 As she sat in her darkness, the grasp of his 
 strong hand laid over hers gave her the sense of 
 protection which she needed. 
 
 " My dear, it is a tremendous sorrow. I can't 
 gainsay that ; and I suffer for you so that I don't 
 7
 
 98 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 know how to offer you any comfort. I can only 
 give you a brother's love, and a hand which shall 
 serve you faithfully. I never told you, Rachel, 
 that I once had a far-away idea that I might be 
 your brother in earnest ; I see now that it never 
 could have been, and I believe I am too grave 
 and silent a man ever to make any woman care 
 for me in that way, and so I have very often 
 thought that my life was going to be a lonely 
 one ; but if I could know that I had a sister who 
 would really depend on me, it would seem as if 
 there were something worth working for." 
 
 Rachel had no voice to answer ; but the two 
 frail hands tightened about his, and as he stooped 
 to kiss her cheek, he tried to laugh away his un- 
 usual expression of feeling. 
 
 " It's a bargain, then, Rachel, and you and I 
 are to be old folks together." 
 
 The day had come ; a trying, agitating day for 
 all, with an electric current running through 
 farm, kitchen, and parlor. 
 
 For once in her life, Mrs. Anderson, whose very 
 presence generally suggested peace, moved rest- 
 lessly about the house. Rachel could but sit 
 quietly in her low chair, knitting in hand : but 
 her thoughts kept pace with her mother's feet 
 Back and forth they went, anxious and hoping, 
 and without the feeling which she would have
 
 THE COMING ON OF NIGHTFALL. 99 
 
 had, under happier circumstances, that all doubts 
 would be solved in the presence of her brother 
 and sister. 
 
 And of what was she doubtful ? Not of any 
 serious trouble or change, but only of what mar- 
 ried life might have done for Madge. 
 
 Had she gone from her father's home directly 
 to that of a husband in her own sphere of life, 
 Rachel even then would have felt that for a 
 young undisciplined nature like her sister's there 
 was much to learn ; what, then, might be the 
 change wrought by the experiences of the last 
 four years, away from every friend and early 
 association ? 
 
 At home, there had never been any restric- 
 tion from father or mother, on the confidence 
 between the sisters ; even in their quiet life 
 there had arisen occasions for sympathy and ad- 
 vice from the elder to the younger, and Rachel 
 was the acknowledged mentor. But that sort of 
 intimacy was not so easy in a general family cor- 
 respondence, where the letters were of too great 
 interest to all not to be shared. Of late no per- 
 sonal communication had been possible, and 
 Rachel felt as if, perhaps, she had actually now 
 to learn to know her sister. 
 
 Madge's face was a tell-tale one. How it came 
 before her at that moment ! The tender mouth,
 
 IOO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the quick-changing color, and blue eyes as ready 
 to fill with tears as a child's at any reproof, and 
 to sparkle with fun before the tears were dry 
 upon her cheeks it was a face to be easily read 
 by one who loved her ; but alas for the eyes 
 which might never again rest upon it I
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. IOI 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. 
 
 SLOWLY the hours have dragged themselves 
 along. Every last touch has been given to the 
 rooms the travellers are to occupy, every ar- 
 rangement made for their comfort ; and now 
 they sit waiting for the sound of wheels. At 
 last they have come ! 
 
 Father and mother are standing in the porch. 
 Rachel waits within. She has begged them to 
 leave her, and let Madge come to her first by 
 herself. 
 
 " Oh, Rachel ! my dear, my darling ! How can 
 I bear it for you ? I never thought it could be 
 as bad as this." 
 
 It was Madge whose tears fell in a passionate 
 rain, while she knelt clasping her arms about 
 Rachel, who, as in old times, with cheek laid 
 closely to her sister's, soothed her with loving 
 words. At that moment sight to the blind girl 
 would have been as nothing to the peace of lis- 
 tening to that longed-for voice ! 
 
 Dr. Howland feared, at length, that the agita-
 
 IO2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 tion might be too great ; but Mrs. Anderson 
 begged him, if he did not think it would harm 
 Madge, to let them have their way. " Rachel 
 has had no such comfort since the beginning of 
 her affliction as this sympathy from Madge." 
 
 But there was one member of the family who 
 was not to be kept aloof. Little Phil, catching 
 sight of his mother, struggled from his grand- 
 father's arms, and came running to her side, his 
 own lip quivering at the sight of her tearful face. 
 The mother's arms opened to bring him into 
 the group. 
 
 " Here is my boy, my baby. From the mo- 
 ment he was born, Rachel, I have never felt as if 
 I could be perfectly happy till you had a share in 
 him ; and now we will love you so that I know we 
 can comfort you." 
 
 The first agitation over, they began to feel the 
 certainty of their happiness. 
 
 Phil had accepted his grandfather at once as a 
 companion, and was in his lap ; while Madge, 
 perched on the arm of her father's chair, 
 laughed, and talked with both, and the old man 
 listened with immense delight to the little fellow's 
 chatter. 
 
 " Will you paint me a picture ? I mean with 
 words," Rachel said, as her brother came to sit 
 by her. " Remember how Madge looked the last 
 time I saw her, and tell me if there is any change.
 
 HARTFJELD ONCE MORE. IO3 
 
 I always think of her in her white dress, standing 
 under that arch of scarlet branches which you and 
 Helen arranged ; does she look older than she 
 did that day ? " 
 
 Dr. Rowland paused a moment, looking 
 thoughtfully at his wife ; then answered slowly, 
 trying to imagine how Rachel's eyes would see 
 her. " Not older in any way, except the change 
 from a lovely girl to a beautiful woman. Perhaps 
 you would not see it at this moment, for she is 
 sitting as I have seen her before, leaning over 
 your father with her arm -round his neck, and as 
 her face is bent down upon his gray hair it looks 
 quite as fair and girlish as ever ; but the differ- 
 ence is in her air and bearing, and has come with 
 living more in the world. My poor father was 
 very proud of her beauty, and took great pains to 
 add to it a manner which he thought necessary 
 as a setting to her charms," Rachel fancied 
 that the long breath she heard sounded a little 
 like a sigh, " and then, invalid as my father 
 was, he always attracted agreeable society about 
 him. Even in our quiet life she has been ad- 
 mired, and that gives a woman a certain pres- 
 ence." 
 
 " It is a strange experience," Rachel said. 
 " I suppose you can scarcely understand how 
 strange ; but I feel at this moment as if there 
 were two Madges, my own little sister who
 
 IO4 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 was kneeling here a few moments ago, and the 
 lovely lady you describe." 
 
 " Pray do not imagine any change in your sis- 
 ter which you will feel; she is exactly as you 
 knew her in winning ways ; but I don't deny that 
 there is a difference, though I think you saw in 
 her the germs of this readiness to adapt herself 
 to a wider world than Hartfield. One thing I do 
 assert, Rachel," he said, taking her hand in his as 
 if to make her feel the pleasant smile she could 
 not see : " that I do not at all intend to take to 
 myself the charge of any spoiling that may have 
 been done. You began it at home, and her chief 
 flatterer is her son Phil, who is constantly telling 
 her she is his ' pitty mamma,' and that he, thinks 
 her ' perf ly booful.' There she stands now, with 
 the youngster in h'er arms, and he has her face 
 between his hands, while he is whispering in her 
 ear compliments, I have no doubt." 
 
 No, they were not for his mother, but for the 
 grandfather; for he was asking her, "Is yat a 
 yeal granpa, all my own ? I fink he's 'plendid." 
 
 " High tea" was an unheard of phrase at Hart- 
 field, but a very well-known institution, as bringing 
 out in full force the talents of Mrs. Anderson and 
 her high-priestess Nancy. If love were an essen- 
 tial ingredient in cooking, this should have been 
 a wonderful feast. There was a frequent appear- 
 ance of an eye at the crack of the dining-room
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. 10$ 
 
 door, as Nancy stood watching to see if that 
 " blessed dear of a Mrs. Rowland had as good an 
 appetite as she had when she was a gal. I don't 
 believe she's seen the beat of them crullers in all 
 her Frenchy goings-on." 
 
 A most tempting tea-table, and the cheeriest 
 of parties round it. No one would have thought 
 that there was an element of happiness wanting 
 even in Rachel, as she turned her face from 
 one to the other, guided by the sound of their 
 voices. 
 
 Remembering David's confidence a few nights 
 before, she would have given much to have had 
 one glimpse to see how the change in Madge was 
 striking him, if indeed his reticent face should 
 betray any sign of what was passing within. The 
 thoughts of the two cousins on meeting had been 
 in much the same fashion of each other. 
 
 With David it was : "She is a beautiful woman, 
 but not my little cousin Madge. How can it be 
 that we have so many recollections in common ? 
 and yet now she seems to belong to another kind 
 of life than mine." 
 
 And Madge was thinking : " What a change 
 there is in David ! It is not that he is so much 
 older, or improved in appearance ; but there is 
 something about him which makes him seem out 
 of my reach. I could not make that grave, rather 
 handsome man do all I wished for a little coaxing,
 
 IO6 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 and yet how vexed I used to be with him because 
 he would never be angry with my nonsense. 
 Does he think of me, I wonder, as the same child 
 of whom he was so fond ? for- I have altered as 
 much as he in his way, and I think I should like 
 him to know that I am something more than a 
 pretty woman." 
 
 David Anderson's nature was one entirely free 
 from complications. To have won Madge to be 
 his wife would have been with him to hold her in 
 his heart of hearts, had they lived out a century 
 together ; to have loved and failed to win her had 
 placed her there as his most sacred memory, 
 the woman to be regarded by him with a feeling 
 of chivalry, excluding any possibility of a lower 
 form of admiration. 
 
 The first glance told him that she was more 
 lovely as a woman than she had been as a girl, 
 and the hours they had spent together on the 
 journey from New York, while Madge was thirst- 
 ing for all that he could tell her from home, and 
 her whole interest was absorbed in those towards 
 whom she was hastening, showed her at her very 
 best ; still there was a change, and in his inmost 
 heart- he was glad to find it. To have had her 
 return the same winning little creature who, he 
 had felt, belonged to him as his sister, if in no 
 other relation, would have brought a certain pain. 
 Now, however, she looked so entirely the fitting
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. IO/ 
 
 wife for a man in Rowland's station, that he felt as 
 if he should have deprived her of her due had he 
 been the means of placing her elsewhere, and he 
 would be content to stand aside and admire her, 
 proud of his early choice. 
 
 Perhaps Rachel's once watchful eyes might 
 have recognized a familiar expression in Madge's 
 face, showing that she was conscious of attracting 
 David's attention (which she would not permit to 
 flag), as she gave an animated account of a visit 
 to the little Scotch village from which the Ander- 
 sons had come. 
 
 It was a great pleasure to the father to know 
 that one of his children had been among the old 
 familiar scenes, though the names of most of 
 those whom she had seen belonged to another 
 generation than his, and very few remained who 
 remembered him ; but there were several left of 
 David's former playmates whom she had found 
 out ; and he was quite aroused from his usual 
 calm as she told of one and another who still 
 bore in mind the old times. Madge was not a 
 little pleased to find that she could engross his 
 interest, for his grave attentions had slightly 
 piqued her. 
 
 With questions, answers, old memories re- 
 called, they lingered over the table. Master Phil, 
 who, together with his grandfather, had been 
 much disappointed to find that not even to cele-
 
 IO8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 brate this happy occasion was he to be allowed to 
 injure his digestion, had disappeared in his 
 nurse's arms some time before ; but occasional 
 sounds heard at the opening of a door testified 
 that he was still awake, and not altogether in an 
 approving state of mind. 
 
 Dr. Rowland had spoken once or twice, as his 
 ear caught what was going on, apparently think- 
 ing that a hint from him might suggest to his 
 wife to go to the child ; but Madge only nodded 
 with a "come presently" air, and continued chat- 
 ting and laughing to the delight of her father and 
 David, between whom she was seated, when a 
 very decided roar came from above, and Dr. How- 
 land said, " Margaret, I am afraid Phil is wanting 
 you in his new nursery." 
 
 Madge answered, " Yes, dear, directly ; let me 
 finish this one story." 
 
 The tone struck Rachel so. uncomfortably that 
 it was. well she did not see the slight knitting of 
 the brow which accompanied it. 
 
 " Pray let me go to the little fellow," she said 
 to him in a low voice ; and then, in answer to 
 some objection on his part, " Oh, yes ; it is just 
 what I want, to have him to myself for a little 
 while. I think I could soothe him, and I can find 
 my way ; let me go alone, please, if you are not 
 afraid to trust me." 
 
 He saw that she was not only in earnest, but 
 moved almost to tears, and let her slip away.
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. 
 
 That word " Margaret," and the tone in which 
 it was spoken, was it only her anxious fancy 
 which had been jarred by it ? And was there a 
 want of tenderness in him ? Or did it imply that 
 something more than a gentle suggestion was 
 needed to make Madge forget her own amuse- 
 ment ? It was a trifle, and put aside" to be 
 thought of if necessary at some future time ; 
 but it joined the band of shadowy troubles which 
 sometimes take a more persistent hold of our 
 thoughts than the more real sorrows or what 
 we call such. 
 
 The nursery would have been a pretty sight to 
 Rachel's eyes, with the fire lighting up the walls, 
 ( where still hung the pictures of her own and 
 Madge's choosing in the days when this had been 
 their winter play-room, shining on the pleasant 
 nursery arrangements, on the baby's bath-tub, and 
 his crib, waiting for the little curly-headed figure 
 in its white night-gown, who sat on the hearth-rug 
 gazing over the fender with an air of wide-awake 
 rebellion. The nurse, who, even in the short 
 time she had been in the house, had heard enough 
 from old Nancy to give her an interest in the blind 
 young lady, came forward to receive Rachel, and 
 led her to a low chair near the fire, saying that 
 the child was too excited to sleep, and she thought 
 it better to let him have his own way a little, rather 
 than to disturb Mrs. Rowland while she was at tea.
 
 HO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 "Where's my new gan'pa ? " Phil said, rather 
 severely, looking at Rachel. 
 
 "Grandpa is talking to mamma. He has not 
 seen her for a long time, you know, so I thought 
 I would come up, and perhaps you would like to 
 have me tell you a little story before you go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " 'Bout bears and fings ? " 
 
 * I never saw a bear. Wouldn't you rather hear 
 about the great white cat that lives down in 
 the kitchen, and carries her kittens round in her 
 mouth, just as your mamma carries you in her 
 arms ? " 
 
 " I souldn't fink they'd like that." 
 
 "And then," Rachel said, "when the kittens. 
 are naughty, and do not do what their mother 
 tells them, she takes them up in the same way 
 and shakes them." 
 
 " I feels velly naughty this night. I gad my 
 mamma wouldn't sake me." 
 
 " No, darling, you are not at all naughty, only 
 a very tired little boy, who wants to curl up in 
 Auntie Rachel's lap, with a nice white blanket 
 wrapped round his feet, and be sung to sleep." 
 
 " My mamma says I's not a pitty boy when I's 
 cross ; but I 'pose you touldn't see me if I is 
 naughty." 
 
 Rachel shrank a little at the childish touch laid 
 upon her sorrow ; and the nurse said, hastily :
 
 HARTFIELD ONCE MORE. Ill 
 
 " Excuse me, ma'am. I hope you will not think 
 I have been telling the child what I should not ; 
 but Nancy was kind enough to come to see if we 
 had all we wanted, and she told me of your mis- 
 fortune, ma'am, and Master Phil understood more 
 than I should have supposed." 
 
 " Don't mind, Susan ; you have done no harm. 
 It must have been told him sooner or later, and I 
 am glad to have it over." 
 
 Phil had risen from the rug, and coming a little 
 nearer, was standing with hands clasped behind 
 him, gazing at her. 
 
 " I can't see your face, dear, to know if you are 
 naughty, but when I hear your voice speaking as- 
 if you were cross, I shall know I have no good 
 little Phil to do what I ask, and find everything 
 for Aunt Rachel's blind eyes. My darling," she 
 said, with an intense desire that the child should 
 understand and feel for her, " I am all in the dark. 
 I can't see you, or any of the beautiful things you 
 are looking at ; but if you will tell me all that your 
 eyes are seeing, and let me have your little hands 
 to lead me, and your feet to run for me, I shall 
 never feel alone." 
 
 Dr. Rowland had come to see if all was quiet 
 in the nursery, and stood leaning against the door, 
 watching the scene : the little white figure, such 
 an earnest look in the sweet, half-open mouth, and 
 grave, brown eyes, drawing gradually nearer to
 
 112 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 where Rachel sat with outstretched hands and 
 face of pleading love, the tears rushed to his 
 eyes as he thought of the longing in her heart 
 for one glimpse of the sight so dear to him. The 
 child paused a moment, as if he were thinking 
 what it all meant, and then coming close, and 
 looking up in her face, one little hand resting on 
 her lap, he said : 
 
 " Philly tan be your eyes ; I take you wif my 
 hand, and lead you all my long days." 
 
 As she felt the touch, heard the baby voice, 
 Rachel, with a sobbing cry, caught him in her 
 arms ; but her agitation frightened the child, and 
 -as she felt him shrink from her, she instantly con- 
 trolled herself, and with gentle, coaxing voice per- 
 suaded him to let her lift him to her lap and fold 
 him in her arms. When Madge presently came 
 running up stairs, her husband was waiting for 
 her, that she should not enter to rouse Phil, 
 whose drooping eyelids were still raised once in 
 a while, as he begged " once more 'bout ze 'ittle 
 white kitties." 
 
 If there had been any vexation in Jack's mind, 
 it disappeared in his sympathy with his wife's ten- 
 der delight at what he told her, and the thought 
 that her baby should have already begun his part 
 in helping Rachel's sorrow.
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 113 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 * 
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 
 
 THIS was a peaceful time at Hartfield. The 
 father and mother thought it was scarcely pos- 
 sible to be grateful enough for the happiness of 
 waking in the morning to remember that their 
 child was again under their roof; and though it 
 would only be for a while, the probability was 
 that they would never again be separated for a 
 very long time. 
 
 Phil lived in a paradise peopled with chickens, 
 lambs, and other young things, and his bright, 
 pretty mother enjoyed the reward of her Hart- 
 field popularity. There had been enough change 
 in the life of the last few years to have made 
 some women wish to forget that there had ever 
 been a time when their ambition was confined to 
 being the favorite. of a little country town; but 
 Madge took a very hearty delight, not only in 
 charming both old and young, but in seeing the 
 gratification which her attentions gave. It was a 
 pleasure-loving nature, but so kindly a one, with 
 no touch of jealousy or bitterness, that it well
 
 fI4 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 might deter, not only those who loved her, but 
 herself also, from looking too closely for a flaw in it. 
 
 Madge and her boy were to stay at the farm 
 through November, while Dr. Hr.wland went to 
 New York to arrange his plans for -professional 
 work, take a furnished house, and have all in 
 readiness for them. Rachel was to follow her 
 sister. A new brightness had come to her since 
 Dr. Howland had examined her eyes ; he dared 
 not encourage her decidedly, but he spoke in a 
 hopeful tone, and showed such interest and anxi- 
 ety, that Rachel felt that nothing would be left 
 undone. With Madge to cheer her father and 
 mother, and with her brother to decide for her, 
 she felt her burden a comparatively light one. 
 
 Phil, true to his promise, was always anxious 
 for "Auntie Ray" as a companion, and was con- 
 stantly running to her to ask for sympathy for his 
 pets this last a doubtful pleasure; for when 
 the little fellow came with something cuddled up 
 in his frock to be put in her lap, " such a booful 
 fing to pat," her hand might descend upon a frog 
 or turtle. Even a " very little new pig " had been 
 brought for admiration ; and he would have been 
 quite wounded had it not met with an affection- 
 ate reception. 
 
 It was beautiful autumn weather, and Madge 
 spent half her days about the place, sometimes 
 with her boy, sometimes accompanying her father
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 115 
 
 as he overlooked the laborers. David was always 
 ready to do two days' work in one at the factory, 
 that he might be at Madge's disposal for a long 
 walk or drive. He had entirely made up his 
 mind that after this long separation, all bwt the 
 mere form of intimacy would be over, and instead 
 of that, here they were together again renewing 
 all the pleasant relations they had had. He 
 found Madge as lovely as ever, and yet devel- 
 oped into just the agreeable, sympathetic woman 
 of the class whom, except in his rare novel-read- 
 ing, he had never known before, and of whom he 
 had always thought as something apart from his 
 own phase of life. He thoroughly enjoyed her 
 companionship, and she was equally glad to take 
 again her old place with him. To say that Madge 
 had any definite thought of gaining an influence 
 over David which should endanger his tranquillity 
 of mind, would be unjust ; she only called it to her- 
 self a return to their old friendship, and pleased 
 herself with thinking that she would use her ex- 
 perience of the conventional world to give him 
 the tone which was all he needed to make him a 
 more agreeable companion than most of the men 
 whom she had met. Madge, with her power of 
 forgetting the disagreeable, looked back upon the 
 past four years as only a training in luxury and 
 refinement for the life before her. She should 
 not begin in New York as a stranger ; for among
 
 Il6 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the friends she had made abroad were a few be- 
 longing to her husband's circle, who would, she 
 knew very well, be ready to admit the rich and 
 pretty Mrs. Rowland to their intimacy. It was 
 strange to look back to the time, really not so 
 very long ago, when she thought with envy of 
 Helen Lee's position as something entirely be- 
 yond her reach. So these were days of pleasant 
 recollection, bright anticipation, and keen enjoy- 
 ment of the love about her, days, ending often 
 with long talks over the fire after the old people 
 had gone to bed, leaving the others sitting round 
 the hearth, Madge always in a low seat close to 
 her sister ; for Rachel liked to feel her presence. 
 
 " What an impossible happiness this seems ! " 
 Rachel said, one night, laying her hand on 
 Madge's head, as they sat in their usual posi- 
 tions Madge on a footstool resting against 
 Rachel's knee; and David in his uncle's deep 
 arm-chair on the other side of the fireplace. 
 
 " Not so impossible as it seemed to me a year 
 ago at this time," Madge said, " when we were at 
 Nice, with poor Mr. Rowland just recovering 
 from one of his most terrible attacks ; and yet we 
 knew that the same thing might return again and 
 again." 
 
 " Were you with him ? " Rachel asked. 
 " Oh, no ; he had a most excellent nurse in his 
 own servant, and Jack, day and night, when he
 
 HAPPY DAYS. II/ 
 
 needed him. I never saw Jack so broken down 
 as he was at that time, when his father implored 
 him to give up keeping him alive. Jack said he 
 believed that it really amounted to that ;* for any 
 relaxation of care would have ended his suffering. 
 
 " Deliver me, then, from the resources of sci- 
 ence/' said David. " I should pray to be allowed 
 to die in the good old-fashioned way." 
 
 " Ah, well ! he did not say that when he was 
 better. In a week or two after that he was able 
 to drive with me, and receive visitors, and was 
 apparently enjoying his life as much as if there 
 were not such a fiend of pain lying in wait for 
 him. I almost think Jack suffered more from the 
 recollection of it than his father. But there never 
 was such a fellow for work. As soon as his 
 father needed him no longer, Jack spent all his 
 energies on a poor cripple without money or 
 friends, and with some wonderful invention made 
 quite a good imitation of a man out of him. That 
 was Jack's idea of relaxation ! " 
 
 " I wonder/' David said, " if you know what a 
 fortunate woman you are ? " 
 
 " I know that I am a very happy woman ; but 
 what brings it to you so strongly at this moment? 
 Jack's kindness is not a new idea to you." 
 
 " I was thinking what a happy thing it must be 
 for a wife, when the business of her husband's 
 life is one in which she can always give him her 
 interest."
 
 Il8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET.' 
 
 Madge sat looking into the fire. Presently she 
 moved upon her footstool, and, with her hand still 
 resting on Rachel's knee, turned her face to- 
 wards him. " I am afraid I shall displease you, 
 for perhaps a man could not understand my feel- 
 ing ; but it is precisely the business of Jack's life 
 which I do not like. Can you see that if he were 
 a lawyer or a merchant, though he might work all 
 day, when the day was over he would be glad to 
 have done with it, and give all his time to me ; 
 but now, between his interest in these cases and 
 his conscience, I feel sometimes as if he had but 
 half a thought for me. I almost think I should 
 not mind it so much if he were doing it from 
 necessity ; then there would be no question ; but 
 now he makes his choice between me and " 
 
 "Then, dear child," interrupted Rachel, "I 
 should say the only remedy was to share the 
 interest with your husband ; and surely there 
 could be no great difficulty in that, when you see 
 before your eyes the good he does." 
 
 " I can assure you, too," David said, " you are 
 greatly mistaken when you contrast yourself with 
 other women as to your husband's having time 
 for you. Remember the couples we have known 
 all our lives here, where the husband comes 
 home too tired to do anything but eat and sleep; 
 and I have known something, too, of married life 
 in cities. Think, Madge, how it must be, when
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 119 
 
 a man is occupied all day with business matters, 
 and his wife cannot know enough to sympathize 
 or help, if she wants to do it ever so much. No, 
 you certainly do not know how fortunate you are." 
 
 " I think you are a little hard on me," Madge 
 said, turning to lay her face again on Rachel's 
 knee. " Mind you, I am finding no fault with 
 Jack ; I have loved him better every day since 
 we were married, and I admire him all the more 
 for the very acts which keep him away from me. 
 Perhaps," she continued, a little sadly, " it is be- 
 cause I would like to be more the sort of a wife 
 who could care for his work as I do not." 
 
 Rachel's touch upon her hair was very soft, and 
 her voice as tender, as she said : " But, Madge, I 
 think this is all a trouble of your own making. 
 Little things grow into great ones so fast, 
 that before you know it you might find a wall 
 growing up between you and your husband ; and 
 it is not like you, dear, to be wanting in sympa- 
 thy for any one in trouble." 
 
 " Yes, it is exactly like me, Rachel ; and not in 
 the least like you ; so no wonder you cannot un- 
 derstand it. Don't you remember, when we were 
 little girls, that I used to say I pitied all the well 
 chickens and kittens because you never cared for 
 them ; and the hospital basket, where you always 
 had some poor forlorn thing to fuss over. Father 
 said I was selfish always to want the prettiest for
 
 I2O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 pets. But you said, no ; that it was you who were 
 selfish to like the sickly ones best, because you 
 wanted them to care for you. Oh, Rachel dear, 
 there's no one just like you, for you can be what 
 you are, and yet understand and bear with me." 
 
 " And now I think you are rather hard on me," 
 David said. "Of course I can't understand you 
 as that dear soul does ; but as to bearing I 
 should like to know what I have not borne from 
 you, and thankfully too, ever since you were a 
 curly-headed little thing running away with my 
 tools. But this is what I say, Madge : that you 
 don't know yourself. Of course there are excep- 
 tions ; but I believe that most husbands and 
 wives are obliged to do their work separately. 
 The love is there all the same, and always ready ; 
 and that very feeling of certainty that it is there 
 is what prevents their calling on each other for 
 sympathy in their exclusive worries. That is the 
 best life. And in the poorest they grow not to 
 care for sympathy. Marriage with them is a 
 fixed fact ; and so they drudge along together ; 
 and if they do each other no harm, it is precious 
 little good they give either. But you, Madge, 
 what might you and Jack not accomplish 
 together ! " 
 
 " And you think that I really do not help him," 
 she said ; " or that I am only not doing all that I 
 might?"
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 121 
 
 David paused so long that Rachel spoke. 
 " Your life has been one of such mixed interests, 
 with the necessity for putting Mr. Rowland first, 
 that you are only now beginning, you and Jack, 
 to live really for one another. Now you will 
 find yourself holding a different relation in many 
 ways." 
 
 Madge put up her hand to stroke Rachel's 
 caressingly. " I know what I could do, with you 
 always at hand, Rachel ; but I want to hear what 
 David thinks of me. Won't you answer my 
 questions ?" 
 
 " Rachel is right ; this is the real Beginning for 
 you both ; and so, as I have done my fair share 
 of letting you do as you wanted with us all, I tell 
 you the truth now : You can't help your husband 
 as he ought to be helped, if you stop short when 
 his work seems disagreeable to you." 
 
 " You have not quite answered my questions, 
 and I suppose it is just as well. I feel my short- 
 comings as much as you. It's of no use. I shall 
 never be a stately woman, and I shall never be a 
 wise one. You and Rachel have tried your hand 
 on me, and now poor Jack has had his disappoint- 
 ment. Have you not observed how he always 
 calls me Margaret ? " 
 
 " I supposed that he liked having a name of 
 his own for you," David said. 
 
 " Not at all ; he has an ideal of what a Margaret
 
 122 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 should be, and thinks that I can be brought up to 
 the standard. This is a foolish trifle ; but do you 
 know this name of mine was a subject of discus- 
 sion between Jack and his father ? You two 
 rather reproach yourselves for having over-petted 
 me ; but you are stern advisers, compared with 
 the dear old man. He was greatly pleased at 
 first with my name of Madge, as being so suited 
 to me, he said. After a while he changed it to 
 Magic, and that didn't please Jack. It was very 
 rarely that he thwarted his father in his fancies, 
 but about this he did ; and when Mr. Rowland 
 persisted, Ja^k began to call me Margaret. I like 
 it because no one else in the world calls me so, 
 and he has a slow, pleasant way of saying it, 
 which belongs to himself ; but it often gives me a 
 little pang ; for, though he loves me very much, 
 I'm not, and I never shall be, the Margaret of his 
 imagination ; and," she said, in a low, dreamy way, 
 " I think that he knows it." 
 
 After Rachel and Madge had gone to their 
 rooms, David still lingered gazing into the fire. 
 The past years might have all been pictured 
 there, so vivid to him were his recollections of 
 the time when his feeling for Madge had grown 
 deeper as she grew from a pretty plaything to the 
 beautiful woman towards whom all his ambitions 
 tended. He knew what his love had been now 
 better even than when he had thought of life
 
 HAPPY DAYS. 123 
 
 with her as a possible happiness. Should he 
 ever have come to feel that there was anything 
 wanting to the reality of that happiness ? He 
 believed never ; and did it not prove that the man 
 who would not be satisfied till his ideal woman 
 really existed, would call out -in Madge qualities 
 which, but for him, would have lain dormant ? 
 And yet, in the coals he saw a vision which 
 would have given him all that he could have ever 
 asked of life ; and he sat gazing till it fell before 
 him in gray ashes. 
 
 November had come, when Jack announced 
 that all was in readiness, house and servants 
 waiting for their mistress. Phil did not take the 
 summons at all in good part. 
 
 "Where's 'e good o' goin' 'zout ganpa and 
 Nancy, and no moollies to milk," Jthis last with 
 a prolonged wail. And Nancy, the most abject 
 of all the slaves over whom this young autocrat 
 had ruled in his small life, had her dark mis- 
 givings. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Rowland, my dear, if you see that 
 dear child a-growing peaked-like, just you take 
 hold of the cooking your own self; for I'll never 
 believe that good bread ever came out of an igno- 
 rant pusson's hands. No, I don't mean that you 
 should do anything to make the fus'-class families 
 look down on you ; only you mind this : let the
 
 124 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 baby's food come next to the fear of the Lord." 
 And Madge promised everything, even to bor- 
 rowing Nancy in case of need. 
 
 Rachel was not to go till later in the winter. 
 The operation upon her eyes could not be per- 
 formed quite yet, and she would not leave home 
 sooner than was necessary. They were all con- 
 tent at Hartfield ; for they felt that it would have 
 been ingratitude to have expended any regret 
 over this parting, which was as nothing after the 
 last four years, and summer would bring them 
 together again. 
 
 Madge's frequent letters were filled with the 
 pleasure of the life which she found quite as de- 
 lightful as she expected, pretty house, agreea- 
 ble people, and Mrs. Lee and Helen close by, so 
 that she could never feel lonely, or at a loss for 
 advice about her new life. 
 
 Jack wrote .privately to Rachel that he quite 
 admired Madge for not having her pretty head 
 turned entirely round on her shoulders by her 
 popularity. She had already half a dozen intimate 
 friends, with the offer of several more ; and no 
 one paid him any attention except as the charm- 
 ing Mrs. Rowland's husband.
 
 A NEW WORLD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A NEW WORLD. 
 
 FEBRUARY came, and with it the appointed 
 time for Rachel's visit to New York. The anxi- 
 ety in their minds was too great to bear discus- 
 sion. Only to have her safe at home again, whether 
 as a charge or a help, for the rest of. their days, 
 was all that the father and mother thought of. And 
 as for Rachel, she had been so peaceful of late that 
 she dreaded the bringing of suspense again into 
 her life, and she hoped that she was resigned ; 
 hoped she did not dare say more than that to 
 herself. 
 
 " It seems scarcely possible," Rachel said, as 
 she drove from the station to Madge's house, with 
 David by her side, " that these should be the same 
 streets through which mother and I drove, two 
 such dismal people last summer ; and now there is 
 a welcome waiting for us." 
 
 And such a welcome ! Jack's hand to help her 
 from the carriage ; Madge to clasp her in her 
 arms the moment she stepped within the doors ; 
 and Phil's voice from above. " Oh, Aunty Ray,
 
 126 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 I's a-vvaiting in my nighty-gown, and I fought 
 you'd never come ! " 
 
 To Rachel, the only drawback was a certain 
 sense of unreality. As Madge placed her in an 
 easy-chair before the fire in the room which she 
 told her was to be ners, ana caning the maid who 
 would wait upon her, made every possible ar- 
 rangement for her comfort, it seemed almost im- 
 possible that this charming hostess could be her 
 little sister ; and there was a touch of home- 
 sickness in the feeling. 
 
 The last day of David's visit in New York 
 came, and he was sitting alone with Rachel. That 
 evening he was going on to Washington, and they 
 would not meet again till after the operation on 
 her eyes was over, and so much of her future life 
 decided. 
 
 Dr. Howland had made David's visit a most 
 agreeable one, giving him the opportunity of 
 meeting exactly the men he most wished to know ; 
 and he himself was rather proud to see the im- 
 pression David had made (most unconsciously), 
 justifying his own idea that here was a man much 
 above the common. A certain dignified simpli- 
 city put David quite at his ease, where he felt 
 that he was understood ; and the lingering traces 
 of his old Scotch accent gave an agreeable tone 
 to his voice very unlike the voices of the men by 
 whom he had been surrounded in his work. So
 
 A NEW WORLD. I2/ 
 
 the visit had been a great success in more ways 
 than David knew. 
 
 " If I could see Madge," Rachel said, " I know 
 that it would soon seem natural ; but merely to 
 hear her giving directions and taking this new 
 life so quietly don't think I am unreasonable, 
 David, but it does put her rather far away from 
 me just at first, you know." 
 
 " I do not wonder at you, of course," David re- 
 plied ; " but it will all come right. As for me, I 
 look at the child in astonishment to see her tak- 
 ing her life here as if she had been born to it, and 
 yet being just her old self all the time. Do you 
 know what was the color of the dress that she 
 wore at dinner last evening ? " 
 
 " Madge told me it was pearl color when she 
 came in to let me feel of it and smooth her over, 
 to give me an idea how it was made, before she 
 went down stairs pearl color and black lace ; 
 one of her French dresses. Was it pretty ? " 
 
 " Pretty enough ; but it was not so much that, 
 as its looking so exactly suited to her ; as much 
 as if it were an afternoon at Hartfield, with the 
 work done up, and she had come down in one of 
 her fresh calico dresses. Dear me, how pretty 
 she used to look in those pinks and blues, or 
 whatever they might be. But I must say there is 
 a touch added now a grace which seems as 
 natural to her as her pre':tiness."
 
 128 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 "That is it, it is added ; it is something in 
 Madge which I have never seen. You say that it 
 all seemed natural to you ; but it is hard, David, 
 to think there is anything about the child which 
 separates her from my memory. It makes it so 
 possible that other things may come in of which 
 I know as little." 
 
 Rachel's face had grown during the last months 
 to look as peaceful as before her affliction had 
 come upon her ; but just then David saw such a 
 troubled look on her face that he came and sat 
 by her on the sofa, and said, most earnestly : 
 
 " Rachel, my dear, you and I must not forget 
 that to wish Madge exactly as she used to be, is 
 to wish her unfit for this sort of life. It seems a 
 little strange to us, but it is certainly a very happy 
 one for her. I watched her last night, and with- 
 out one scrap of affectation, she was taking her 
 part in all the gay talk, and seeming entirely at 
 her ease. It struck me, because, you know, now- 
 adays I am often thrown among people out of 
 our sphere, and though I feel at my ease, (I 
 should be ashamed of myself if I did not, when I 
 am talking with people about things in which we 
 are both interested,) yet when it comes to the give 
 and take, which I suppose goes on in this part of 
 the world all the time, I feel as if I were tramping 
 about in a flower-bed." 
 
 " Madge deserves great credit, then, for the way
 
 A NEW WORLD. 129 
 
 in which she stepped back into her old place at 
 home ; for I am sure she never once made me 
 feel as if she had changed a whit towards her old 
 associations ; and yet four years was time enough 
 to make a new life for herself" 
 
 "And that is just what makes me feel the con- 
 fidence in her. But, Rachel, you are worried, and 
 whatever it is, let us talk it out ; it will be some 
 time before we shall have such a chance again." 
 
 " This is my worry, then You and I have 
 never talked about what Madge said to us that 
 night by the fire; but it has been in my mind 
 ever since. There is the possibility of trouble. 
 You know what Madge is to me ; but my love 
 takes in her faults and all, and I know what they 
 are. She will shirk the unpleasant wherever it 
 is possible, for other people as much as for her- 
 self making believe it's not there, sooner than 
 meet it ; and it is hard to make her see things 
 against her will. That is why I have always felt 
 an intense anxiety as to the influence which 
 might come into Madge's life, good or bad ; it 
 must have great power." 
 
 " But what better influence than that of such a 
 man as Howland ? " 
 
 " I think there has been an opposite one at 
 
 work, suiting her nature more pleasantly than her 
 
 husband's sense of duty. I know a good deal 
 
 of the father through Mrs. Lee, and so far as 
 
 9
 
 I3O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Madge's personal comfort was concerned, it was 
 lucky for her that he made her a pet instead of a 
 mark for his temper. He seems to have done 
 nothing but that all his life, spoil or nag ; but 
 it has not been the best thing for her, David." 
 
 " I dare say not ; but I don't think I quite get 
 your idea yet. What is it that you are really 
 afraid of?" 
 
 " Nothing in particular," she said with a sigh ; 
 " nothing that I could help, perhaps ; only that I 
 have always stood by to tell her to take care, and 
 I feel as if I must do it still." 
 
 " Well, why not ? " 
 
 " But she's out of my reach now. You see, if 
 Madge had married and settled down in the life 
 to which she Was born," it was well for Rachel's 
 tender heart that she did not see the look of pain 
 in David's face, "I should have felt that all her 
 work would be teaching enough. There would 
 have been her house to mind, her child always 
 with her. But now there's no need for that sort 
 of thing; and I know Madge so well, and J am 
 so afraid that, for a while at least, she will be in a 
 whirl with it all, and no one to advise." 
 
 " There's her husband." 
 
 " Yes ; but good and kind as he is, he is so en- 
 grossed with his work that Madge goes her own 
 way rery much ; and I think she hasn't the will 
 to follow him, or he the time to look after her."
 
 A NEW WORLD. 13! 
 
 David sat silent, thinking, but with a troubled 
 look, till Rachel's hand was laid on his. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am sending . you away with a 
 care that you needn't have had ; but if you think 
 me too anxious, and, maybe, unjust to Madge, 
 only remember what it is to me to sit in the dark, 
 when all I want is to read in her face whether 
 all's well or not." 
 
 " Rachel, I feel it to the bottom of my soul ; 
 but it's for you, not for her. It wouldn't need 
 your eyes to tell you if there were anything 
 amiss ; you would feel it in the air." 
 
 He walked to the window, and stood looking 
 out, with the expression on his face of will to 
 master his feeling, that impulse in a man, which 
 to a woman would come with the desire for relief 
 in tears. When he came back to her, he said : 
 
 " Rachel, let me say this much to you before I 
 go : If there ever was anything in which you did 
 not do your duty by Madge, it was in not letting 
 her take her fair share of work ; don't do the 
 same thing now, for her sake. It wouldn't be 
 any wonder if she were a little too fond of this 
 new life of hers ; but the best way to distract 
 her from it is to let her know that for once it is 
 you who depend on her. Oh, my dear," he re- 
 peated, as he took her in his arms, " I haven't 
 any words for it all ; but I believe I shall not bear 
 it as patiently as you will, if any disappointment 
 is to come to us."
 
 132 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 When he left her, Rachel felt as if she scarcely 
 knew how to bear what might be coming without 
 the strong support which had been such a rock to 
 her. He had gone ; and Rachel settled down to 
 the waiting which must be borne, so said the 
 physicians whom Dr. Rowland had asked to con- 
 sult with him. Living for the first time since 
 her blindness, in a strange place, it seemed to 
 Rachel as if she were walking in a dream. It 
 was not only that she had nothing to help her 
 to imagine her surroundings, but the events of 
 the life itself were new to her. Never before had 
 she been in a household which went on without 
 the assistance of each member, and where there 
 was a daily choice of occupation, instead of taking 
 the work marked out. Jack, indeed, lived as busy 
 a life as if all were depending on him for support ; 
 but Madge flitted where she liked. Rachel tried 
 hard to remember David's parting advice, and 
 Madge was full of thoughtful attention ; but there 
 were various calls upon her, and Rachel could 
 not, even on principle, alter her nature so entirely 
 as to keep Madge with her when there was any- 
 thing pleasant to call her off. Rachel, therefore, 
 stayed much in her own room, where she could 
 always feel when the sun was shining brightly, 
 and where Phil was always ready to add his 
 happy little presence, if his aunt was alone. She 
 so shrank from meeting strangers, that her brother
 
 A NEW WORLD. 133 
 
 and sister never urged her to join them ; but it 
 would sometimes happen that she was sitting 
 with Madge down-stairs, at hours when her inti- 
 mate friends came in, and then Rachel would sit 
 apart listening and trying to form some idea of 
 them from their voices and conversation, to sup- 
 plement the picture which Madge would give her, 
 in words, after they had gone. Rather surprised 
 she often was afterwards, when she found that 
 the gay young lady, as she supposed, whom she 
 had heard running on about all her amusements, 
 was perhaps the mother of two or three little 
 children, and who, Rachel, in her country breed- 
 ing, would have imagined could like nothing so well 
 as their companionship. However, if they chose 
 to miss so much pleasure, it was nothing to her ; 
 but what she did very much regret was the influ- 
 ence she felt all this might have on her sister. 
 All Madge's friends seemed, from what she heard, 
 to be entirely among a refined and agreeable class, 
 and their talk and discussions merely amused her 
 when she knew that they came from girls who 
 had no especial cares ; but there were others, 
 young wives like Madge herself, and the com- 
 pliments offered Madge, as if she were still a 
 girl to whom amusement was the first interest, 
 did not please Rachel's taste. It was not what 
 she had wished or hoped for her in marriage, 
 and was adding still more to the love of admira-
 
 134 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 | 
 
 tion, which Rachel vVould have liked to see wiped 
 out as Madge's one serious fault. She felt sure, 
 too, that her brother-in-law would have been 
 made very happy if his wife had ever seemed to 
 prefer an evening at home with him ; but though, 
 to do her jus'ice, she always made herself bright 
 and pleasant there, when nothing more entertain- 
 ing offered abroad, still she never refused any 
 chance of enjoying herself elsewhere. And he 
 liked his home so much better than any ball or 
 theatre-party. Often, if Madge could arrange to 
 join Helen Lee, he would beg off, saying that he 
 had had a fatiguing, anxious day, and did not 
 feel in the mood for gayety, if she could do as 
 well without him ; and then he would ask Rachel 
 to sit with him by his study fire ; and very much 
 did she enjoy hearing of his work, his plans, and 
 the subjects of interest suggested by them. And 
 yet it was not she to whom this should have been 
 poured out, or who should have given him full 
 sympathy in all that he hoped to accomplish. If 
 Madge would only have gone hand in hand with 
 him, what might they not have done together! 
 This was in Rachel's thoughts, and she was sure 
 that it must be in his. But if Madge could not 
 see how much better and happier it would be for 
 her to live the life her husband preferred, was it 
 not better, then, that the sacrifice should be made 
 by him, of at least watching his young wife in her
 
 A NEW WORLD. 135 
 
 gayety ? Rachel went over the ground again and 
 again, taking first one side, then the other, never 
 certain of anything except her perfect love for 
 her sister, and her appreciation of the noble 
 character of the man who loved, but, she feared, 
 did not understand Madge so well as* she. 
 
 One morning, as they were about scattering 
 from the breakfast-room, Dr. Rowland asked 
 what were the plans for the day. 
 
 " Various matters," Madge said. " I am going 
 out to lunch ; and then I shall come back here to 
 take Rachel to the concert. And it is Mrs. 
 Gray's dinner to-night ; don't forget that ! " 
 
 " I am glad you reminded me, for I might have 
 forgotten, as I am going out of town to-day to see 
 a patient of Carter's." 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! and won't you come back in time 
 for the concert ! It is the Fifth Symphony, the 
 first time we have heard it since Leipzig, and I 
 did so want you to go with me ! And then it is 
 such a new experience for Rachel, I thought you 
 would enjoy her pleasure;" and Madge looked 
 really disappointed. 
 
 " I am sorry, dear, very sorry ; but, really, I 
 must go. The patient is at Fordham, and it will 
 be impossible to get back in time." 
 
 " But why need you go ? Dr. Carter has handed 
 over his patient to you ; why cannot you as well 
 ask some one else to go in your place ? It's not
 
 136 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 as if it were your own patient ; and I am sure 
 you are always doing other people's work ; and, 
 for once, you might ask another doctor to oblige 
 you." 
 
 " It's not that, Margaret ; but this is a peculiar 
 case, and one which I happen to know more 
 about than the other men here, from having seen 
 something of the same kind abroad ; no one else 
 would do in my place. No, dear, go I must ; so 
 be a good little woman, and don't tease me to 
 stay. I assure you I should need no urging if I 
 were not sure that I ought to go." 
 
 "'Ittle folks shouldn't tease," Phil remarked, 
 sententiously, from the breakfast table, where he 
 was sketching out his idea of a cow on the cloth 
 with the bowl of a spo'on. 
 
 " Then, young master, run with Susan ; for 
 there she is waiting at the door for you," his 
 father said. 
 
 Phil objected to such an early application of his 
 remark ; and being not at all inclined to stop his 
 drawing, Rachel suggested that she should go 
 with him, and he might come to her room for a 
 little while, before going to the nursery. 
 
 "No," his father said, "either let him stay 
 here ; or if he is to go, don't coax him ; much 
 better to teach him to obey rules on the spot ; it 
 saves a deal of trouble by and by." 
 
 And as Phil had found out by this time that
 
 A NEW WORLD. 137 
 
 what papa said he meant, he went, only asserting 
 his rights by walking three times round the table. 
 But though Madge never openly interfered be- 
 tween the two, she could not help saying, as soon 
 as the door closed, " Oh, Jack ! what's the good 
 of being firm with such an atom ? " 
 
 "Just because he is an atom ; and it is not half 
 the struggle to begin now, before he gets to the 
 age when he would want to know what for. It's 
 very much pleasanter for us and for him if we 
 can settle the matter, and give him the habit of 
 minding." 
 
 " I don't like the habit myself," Madge said, 
 "and, really, Jack," coming up to him with a 
 coaxing look, "you make me so uncomfortable 
 with doing your duty at all sorts of inconvenient 
 times, that it's not at all encouraging as an ex- 
 ample." 
 
 " Are you trying to persuade me to stay ? Why, 
 dear, it's a question perhaps of a whole lifetime 
 of suffering to a little fellow not much bigger 
 than Phil. Think ! if I can go and give the poor 
 mother some hope." 
 
 " There ! there ! there, Jack ! " she said, putting 
 her arms impetuously round her husband's neck, 
 " of course you must go ; and I'm nothing but 
 selfish and horrid ! Only give me credit for for- 
 giving you for being always in the right." 
 
 " I would rather give you credit for keeping
 
 138 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 me to the right. Perhaps you don't know all I 
 deserve for resisting your temptation," he said, 
 stroking the pretty head which rested against his 
 shoulder. " I should be as glad as you if we were 
 to hear the symphony together, and to know how 
 Rachel takes it, too." 
 
 " As a pretty hard lesson I am afraid," Rachel 
 said. " My fear is that Madge is going to be 
 very much ashamed of me, for I shan't know 
 what it's all about." 
 
 " Oh, yes, dear, you will ; a great deal of it, at 
 least. Don't you remember, Jack, how your 
 father used to insist upon my going through all 
 the concerts as a part of my polite education ? 
 At first I used to think that I could make more 
 music out of the frogs at home." 
 
 Her husband did not smile back again, be- 
 cause he was thinking how his father's constant 
 argument had been with Madge, that it was be- 
 cause it was the proper thing to do, that she was 
 to enjoy what he told her to enjoy. 
 
 " How are you to manage your lunch, and then 
 to be here for Rachel in time. What fine, in- 
 digestible affair is it to-day ? " 
 
 " Nothing indigestible at all ; only a very 
 healthy mutton-chop, and possibly a potato." 
 
 " Did you say that it was at Mrs. Harrison's ? 
 I thought you were there only a day or two ago. 
 Are you growing so intimate ? "
 
 A NEW WORLD. 139 
 
 " The other day was a very fine affair ; this is 
 only just by ourselves, with perhaps Miss Morris 
 to talk over some little dances which they wanted 
 me to help them about arranging." She glanced 
 at her husband's face, and seeing a look of rather 
 surprised annoyance, said a little uneasily : " They 
 wanted my help, they said ; I don't exactly know 
 why." 
 
 " Nor I either," her husband answered, gravely ; 
 " and I would much rather they managed their 
 dances without calling on you." 
 
 " But I don't understand, Jack, why you object 
 now. You always like me to dance ; what is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " I do not object to your dancing ; but I don't 
 very much like your associating yourself with 
 Mrs. Harrison in any way which is likely to pro- 
 mote an intimacy." 
 
 " Why should I not be intimate with her ? You 
 knew her quite well before either of you were mar- 
 ried ; and it is very pleasant to me to see her, be- 
 cause, as I knew her abroad, I feel as if she were 
 quite an old friend. And, Jack, your father fan- 
 cied her particularly, and used to say that her 
 manners were exactly what he would like mine to 
 be, and what a desirable person she was for me to 
 know." 
 
 Dr. Rowland moved abruptly from his wife's 
 side and walked away to the window, where he
 
 I4O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 stood looking out vaguely, and wondering how he 
 should explain himself without disrespect to the 
 memory of his father, who certainly had been 
 most kind and loving to Madge, showing her, in 
 his old age, an unselfishness which no one else 
 had ever had from him. It was intolerably pain- 
 ful to him to see the effects of these worldly teach- 
 ings cropping out in his wife ; and yet more and 
 more he felt how the seed had taken root in the 
 mind of the girl coming straight from her country 
 home, to learn the ways of her new life from one 
 who never regarded any act except as to the effect 
 it was to have on his audience. Bitterly he regret- 
 ted, every day, that they had not been able to 
 begiji their married life alone together ; but what 
 else could he have done, he thought. All this 
 was in his mind, and he did not speak till she 
 joined him and said : 
 
 " Of course, Jack, I must do as you say ; but 
 I really don't see what possible objection you 
 can have to my joining Mrs. Harrison in this 
 plan." 
 
 " What is it exactly that you want to do ? " 
 "I don't quite know myself; because it was 
 for that I was going there to find out. But in 
 a general way, I know that she wanted to get up 
 some dances, which we were to have every week 
 at each other's houses, and which could be kept 
 just among the people we liked."
 
 A NEW WORLD. 14! 
 
 "And exclude just some of the people I would 
 like you to know best, I suppose." 
 
 "Ah, that's what it is, dear ; but don't you see" 
 (most coaxingly) " that I like your improving peo- 
 ple ever so much, when I'm ready to take it all in ; 
 but they don't generally dance as nicely as the 
 unimproving ones." 
 
 " That does not follow at all," he said, looking 
 still more annoyed. " I have introduced men to 
 you whom you liked very much as partners, and 
 found entertaining, you said ; they were among 
 the people whom I most want you to know ; and 
 yet I dare say you will find a black mark against 
 their name on Mrs. Harrison's list. My dear, why 
 won't you be contented with the pleasant set whom 
 you see at the Lees', without joining in with this 
 silly idea of an exclusive coterie ? " 
 
 He looked anxiously at her ; for there was a 
 wilful expression coming into her face, which he 
 knew well ; not often there, but which he had 
 learned to dread. 
 
 Rachel had been listening with an increasing 
 sense of pain, and now sat in unhappy doubt 
 whether she should do most harm or good by in- 
 terfering. She knew that look, too, and could im- 
 agine it now. She knew that when it came there 
 would be a flash ; quenched, perhaps, in a shower of 
 tears ; but Madge might first say something which 
 would leave behind a sting to be remembered
 
 142 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 when she herself was all sunshine again, and had 
 even forgotten that she had not had her own way. 
 For she was not persistent, and would sometimes 
 yield with a rapidity which was almost provoking, 
 as showing that it was not to her a matter worth 
 all the pain it had caused. While she thought, 
 the time had gone by ; for Madge was speaking 
 in a thoroughly irritated tone. 
 
 " It must be as you say, I suppose ; but it would 
 be rather easier to obey you, if you would let me 
 have a reason for giving up what I want to do so 
 much." 
 
 " I thought I had given you a very good rea- 
 son, dear, for doing what I ask. Why need you 
 talk of obeying ? " 
 
 " Because that is just what it amounts to. I 
 thought, of course, I could join in such a pleasant 
 simple affair as that without asking leave, like a 
 child. But if you don't choose that I should, per- 
 haps you would not object to telling Mrs. Harri- 
 son so yourself, it's not a very agreeable thing 
 for me to say." 
 
 " Margaret, why will you let such a matter as 
 this make any words between us ? Don't you see 
 that it is a dangerous position for a young, inex- 
 perienced person like you to make up a set of your 
 own ? You don't know enough of the bearings 
 of things about you ; and beside the danger of 
 choosing people whom I would rather you should
 
 A NEW WORLD. 143 
 
 not know, you will surely make yourself very un- 
 popular with half the world at least. I am per- 
 fectly willing to arrange it with Mrs. Harrison ; 
 but you know very well you would not want me 
 to interfere; it does not seem to me a difficult 
 matter to tell her just the truth : that you do 
 not know people well enough to pick and choose." 
 
 " Very well ; have it your own way ; but I think 
 it is rather mortifying to own that my husband 
 cannot trust me to go into society by myself, 
 particularly when you always let me see that it is 
 such a bore to you to go." She gave him no time 
 to answer, and left the room, shutting the door 
 after her with an energy that made Rachel start 
 in her anxiety, as if it were literally a thunder- 
 clap. 
 
 She sat, wondering what she should do. To 
 follow Madge alone was impossible for her, and 
 she could not bear to disturb Jack for the mo- 
 ment. This was the first dispute she had heard 
 between them. She had thought such clashing 
 was possible ; but she had no experience to guide 
 her as to whether she might now try to set things 
 straight, if that could be done. She had not long 
 to wait. 
 
 As the door shut, Dr. Rowland drew a long 
 breath, and for a moment stood as his wife had 
 left him, with the same look of puzzled, anxious 
 care on his face. Was this to go on always, he
 
 144 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 was tHinking ; and was it impossible for him to 
 make this woman, whom he loved so entirely, 
 take a share in the life which he felt ought to 
 be his ? 
 
 As he moved to the door he became conscious 
 of Rachel, whose presence, poor soul, had been 
 quite forgotten in the last few moments. 
 
 " Excuse me, Rachel," he said, with especial 
 kindness, feeling how hard this was for her, " I 
 am very sorry you should have heard such a dis- 
 agreeable discussion. It's not often, I hope, that 
 Margaret and I differ so entirely ; but I cannot 
 always make her see matters as I think right, 
 and it's not altogether her fault, dear child ; there 
 have been influences which were not the best for 
 her. Some day, Rachel, you and I will talk about 
 it, and perhaps you can help me. You can do so 
 at this moment by going to her, for I have not a 
 moment to spare ; we shall find her " 
 
 " Yes," Rachel said, " longing for some one to 
 tell her how naughty she has been. You may 
 trust me, Jack." 
 
 Madge was standing in her husband's study, 
 looking into the fire, her face wet with tears as 
 she looked up when they came in and he led 
 Rachel to a chair. 
 
 " I will send Thomas to you for orders after he 
 has left me at the station, and I shall be at home 
 in time to dress for dinner."
 
 A NEW WORLD. 145 
 
 Madge looked blankly, as if she had expected 
 something more ; but he had gone ; and as they 
 heard the front door shut after him, she dropped 
 down in front of Rachel, and putting her head on 
 her lap, cried very much as she would have done 
 a dozen years before. And Rachel sat in her own 
 old fashion, stroking Madge's hair, and waiting for 
 the moment to come when it would be worth while 
 to speak. 
 
 At last, with a final sob, Madge said : 
 
 " I don't think it was at all kind to go without 
 one word." 
 
 " He had the train to catch ; and I'm afraid 
 one word wouldn't have set things straight." 
 
 " Just to say that he was sorry wouldn't have 
 taken very long." 
 
 " My dear ! " Rachel said, astonished that even 
 Madge should think repentance called for from 
 any one but herself, " you certainly did not 
 expect him to say that he was sorry for himself, 
 and I don't think you were in a state to hear that 
 you had done wrong." 
 
 " He might have said that he was sorry, or I 
 was sorry, I don't care who, only not go away 
 without a word, as if it were too bad to be spoken 
 about. I would much rather have had my ears 
 boxed at once." 
 
 " It's just the old story, dear. What you would 
 like is to be punished, and have it over quick, and 
 10
 
 146 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 then say no more about it till next time. I won't 
 interfere while your husband is present ; but, 
 Madge, I cannot sit by and see you spoiling your 
 happiness, and not say a word. Such a scene as 
 that makes mischief, though Jack may come home 
 and try to act as if he had forgotten your sharp 
 words." 
 
 " Then you expect me to give up the moment 
 Jack thinks differently from me ? I think he's 
 very hard and unjust to Mrs. Harrison. You 
 don't know how kind she was to me abroad, 
 the winter that we were in Nice ; and she would 
 be, here, if Jack did not have this foolish no- 
 tion about her. Rachel, don't you take his side 
 against me." 
 
 " My dear child, I shall always be on the side 
 of any one who wants you to do right, and surely 
 Jack must be the best judge as to what is wise for 
 you to do here, where all is so new to you." 
 
 " Not at all. I always used to take his father's 
 opinion about anything of this sort, because, as 
 he said, Jack could not shine in philanthropy and 
 society at the same time. I am certain that Mr. 
 Rowland would have said that I might trust to 
 Mrs. Harrison not to lead me into a mistake." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I'm not going to discuss the 
 society part of it ; perhaps you will think I know 
 just as little about what concerns your relations 
 with your husband ; but, Madge dear, I know you,
 
 A NEW WORLD. 147 
 
 and if you persist in going against his judgment, 
 you will get involved with this lady, and then be 
 sorry, when it will be twice as awkward to get 
 out of it." 
 
 " But, Rachel, I assure you, Jack is mistaken 
 about her." 
 
 " Even if he is, I advise you to give it up. You 
 never had the daring to be naughty long, when 
 you were a child. I think, as soon as you had 
 your own way, you felt rather scared, as if you were 
 left all by yourself ; so that I am sure you would 
 not be contented even if Jack yielded his judg- 
 ment to yours." 
 
 " Jack is mistaken ; why should not he yield as 
 well as I ? " 
 
 " Because I don't think the question was about 
 Mrs. Harrison so much as about you and your po- 
 sition as a stranger. Now, dear, my advice to you 
 is to set aside anything but the idea of doing what 
 your husband asks you. What amusement can 
 be worth the going so utterly against his wishes ? 
 He does not want you to give up your friend, only 
 to avoid joining her in this plan. Come, Madge, 
 you can always do what is right when you look a 
 thing straight in the face. Don't make yourself 
 believe that there is anything in the world you 
 want as much as to make him happy." 
 
 Madge tried to argue a little as to her husband's 
 unwillingness to give up his plans to her, but it
 
 148 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ended with, " Of course I shall never have my own 
 way about anything, if I have to fight you and 
 Jack both ; but you know it will not improve me 
 at all to be good against my own judgment." 
 
 " There's no knowing how much your judgment 
 will improve if you only mind us. Now take me 
 up stairs, and then you can go, and you may put 
 all the blame of not doing what Mrs. Harrison 
 likes on having a troublesome sister on your 
 hands, and so hurt nobody's feelings." 
 
 Madge declared, with many kisses, that it would 
 be a great humbug to make any care that she took 
 of Rachel a reason for staying at home ; but it 
 did come over her with a flash of pain, that, if all 
 did not go well with Rachel, she would have no 
 spirits for any amusement ; and the self-reproach 
 for having forgotten this brought her back to her 
 better self, so that she went off all bright and 
 smiling, thinking how pleased Jack would be, 
 when he came home, to know that she had done 
 as he wished, her satisfaction not at all dis- 
 turbed by any remembrance of the unnecessary 
 pain she had given him first.
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 149 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 
 
 THE lady who had given rise to the morning's 
 discussion would have been sorely puzzled to 
 know how any one could do otherwise than ad- 
 mire her unselfish energy in endeavoring to or- 
 ganize a party which should not include a single 
 bore ; always supposing such an ideal gathering 
 a possible achievement even for the most gifted of 
 women. To make life as agreeable as it was ca- 
 pable of being made, and her surroundings as 
 perfect as money and taste could render them, was 
 to her simply the fulfilment of what she thought 
 the world had a right to ask of her. Indeed, her 
 ideas of duty in this respect were rather exalted, 
 and she would talk on in her charming voice, 
 quoting Eastlake and Ruskin, Swinburne or Rob- 
 ertson's sermons, to suit her audience ; that audi- 
 ence generally leaving her with a mazy doubt 
 whether it would be possible to sweep the com- 
 monplace quite out of sight, and (always with the 
 assistance of Mrs. Harrison) refurnish one's life 
 on a purely artistic, luxurious plan. One of Mrs.
 
 I5O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Harrison's theories (and she had as many as if 
 she were corresponding secretary of a Woman's 
 Club) was that a woman, to be thoroughly fasci- 
 nating, must have a power over her own sex as 
 well as the other ; and this it was which made 
 her a dangerous companion for a person like 
 young Mrs. Rowland, to whom the world and its 
 ways were so new and attractive. 
 
 With Mrs. Harrison Madge found her cousin 
 Miss Mowis, a most useful retainer for a popular 
 lady who could not avoid the inconvenient ne- 
 cessity of charming dull people as well as bright 
 ones. Miss Morris was in that state of advanced 
 girlhood when even bores counted as men, worthy 
 of being entertained as such ; so that Mrs. Harrison 
 need never fear being interrupted in a desirable 
 tete-a-tete when her faithful Alicia was at hand 
 to draw off the intruder. 
 
 " You are delightfully punctual," Mrs. Harri- 
 son said ; " and here is Alicia with a list all over 
 mysterious signs, which mean death to bores and 
 the best of partners to the fascinating. I don't 
 altogether agree with her casting of lots, and we 
 want your fresh judgment." 
 
 " Oh, please don't give me any responsibility. 
 I shall judge them all by their feet, and not by 
 their brains. And besides, you must not count 
 me as one of your circle, for I find it is going to 
 be impossible."
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 151 
 
 " Of course, to do anything which Mrs. Lee 
 does not approve," Miss Morris said in a half 
 aside. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison shook her head at her. " Non- 
 sense, Alicia. Mrs. Rowland is not a little girl 
 under Mrs. Lee's tuition. Oh, no ; I will not 
 take any refusal, and I will explain away all your 
 objections in two minutes." 
 
 " I wish you could dispose of this ; but you will 
 see that it is out of the question for me just at 
 this time. It is on account of my sister, about 
 whom I told you. The operation on her eyes 
 must come very soon, and I ought not to have 
 thought of making any settled engagements till we 
 are quite at ease about her. So you must put 
 some one in my place, and I hope I have not in- 
 terfered with your plans." 
 
 " So Jack Rowland does not approve of me 
 since he has turned philanthropist. I suspected 
 myself frowned at the other night, and now he's 
 going to use me as an awful warning. How 
 nicely she does as she is told ! " This Mrs. Har- 
 rison thought ; and she said, sympathizingly : 
 " Well, my dear, I've nothing to say to such a 
 reason as that, and I have been talking of your 
 sister's face ever since I was at your house. She 
 looked like your guardian angel, as she sat there 
 outside of all our folly. Is she as peaceful as she 
 looks ? "
 
 152 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " If she's not, she means that I shall never 
 know it. But you see that I cannot feel sure of 
 my time, and must be dropped out of the plan, 
 sorry as I am to give up and be given up by you." 
 
 " Oh, no ; we shall not hear of that," Mrs. Har- 
 rison said. " Of course you cannot promise your 
 house, or even yourself; but I hope ail will go 
 well, and at least you will come to us until your 
 anxiety begins." 
 
 " Oh, no," Madge tried to assert ; " indeed, she 
 was not to be counted on at all." 
 
 " Well, my dear, you shall promise nothing ; 
 only don't vow beforehand to refuse when I invite 
 you ; that's all I ask. And now let us look over 
 Alicia's list and see if we have a kind word to say 
 for any of the condemned." 
 
 It did occur to Madge that this discussion of 
 their circle of acquaintance with the two women 
 of whom her husband disapproved, was not car- 
 rying out his wishes. 
 
 " But, dear me, I am in the scrape. Of course 
 he would not wish me to be rude, and I dare say 
 it will all turn out quite right. What a pleasant 
 thing to have a husband like Mr. Harrison, who 
 always thinks his wife is right and charming ! " 
 
 If the kind, gentlemanly, dull man, who seemed 
 to have no mission in society except as a back- 
 ground to Mrs. Harrison, ever had any doubts as 
 to her perfection, he had none whatever respect-
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 1 53 
 
 ing his own inability to convince her that she was 
 ever in the wrong. He had long ago accepted the 
 humble but peaceful position which she offered 
 him. 
 
 " I do not quite understand about your list," 
 Madge said ; " some of the husbands as well as 
 wives are dropped entirely, and others with an 
 interrogation-mark, as if their existence were 
 doubtful. You ca./t ignore them quite, can 
 you ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, Alicia is a bold woman, and 
 these marks mean, I believe, necessary and un- 
 necessary evils. If any one is very desirable, in 
 spite of their having the ill luck to be harnessed 
 to a bore, she thinks that by the judicious use of 
 a receipt of her own equal parts of tact and 
 brass we can manage to obtain the one and 
 drop the other." 
 
 " But mustn't you at least ask them both," 
 Madge said, "and trust to luck for their not 
 coming ? " 
 
 " Then it will be just like any other party. 
 Bores are always ready to jump at the chance of 
 getting some one to help them through an even- 
 ing ; and as we intend to keep to the list, it would 
 be rather worse than usual, for we shall not have 
 a change." 
 
 "Oh dear, no," Miss Morris said ; "there is no 
 other way to do it. One or two stupid people
 
 154 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 will spoil the whole thing ; sit looking like mar- 
 tyrs all the evening, and just at the pleasantest 
 moment break up the party. Mr. Archer gave 
 such a droll account of dancing with that pretty 
 little bride, Mrs. Keith, the other night ; sud- 
 denly Mr. Keith appeared, like a ghost, behind 
 her chair, and from the depths of his waistcoat 
 came a most singular sound. Mr. Archer was 
 wondering what was amiss with the poor man, 
 when Mrs. Keith said, ' Oh, will you excuse me, 
 for I think I must get you to finish the dance 
 with some other partner' (and that dumpy Miss 
 Ellis sitting just behind waiting to seize him). 
 1 My husband has called me, such a charming 
 way to summon me, is it not ? He sets his re- 
 peater for twelve o'clock, and then stands where 
 I can hear it." " 
 
 " Death to the German and prosperity to the 
 watchmakers, if that sort of a husband is allowed 
 to have his own way. Suppress Mr. Keith by all 
 means," said Mrs. Harrison ; " he does very well 
 when you want to make up an intelligent-looking 
 dinner-party ; he'll improve you for hours at a 
 time, but he has the effect of an eclipse at an 
 evening party. I always feel as if the lamps 
 burned low when he is talking to me." 
 
 Mr. Keith was one of Dr. Howland's intimate 
 friends. He had always treated Madge with 
 great attention, which she felt to be a special
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 155 
 
 compliment ; but she dared not say a word in his 
 favor. And she began to appreciate that she had 
 placed herself in a more awkward position than 
 she imagined, and one which would hurt her 
 standing with her new friends. Jack's name was 
 on the list ; why his there, and not Mr. Keith's ? 
 
 Mrs. Harrison spoke as if in answer to her 
 thoughts : " Here is your husband's name, you 
 see, though I suppose there's not much chance 
 of his having time to spare for us. In fact, my 
 dear, the only possible fault I have to find with 
 you is that Dr. Howland has given up all the rest 
 of us since he belonged to you." 
 
 " And such a partner as -he was ! " said Miss 
 Morris. "We all miss him. Gertrude, you never 
 looked as well dancing with any one else." 
 
 " It's not my fault," Madge answered, with just 
 a little spasm of wonder whether there could be 
 any old tender association which made Jack not 
 care to have her placed in contrast with Mrs. 
 Harrison ; " he is too busy and too tired to care 
 for dancing nowadays." 
 
 " Ah, well ! it's the way of husbands ; they 
 dance, or they sing, or they talk, as the case may 
 be ; and we, foolish things, think they mean to go 
 on entertaining us all our days." 
 
 " I have nothing to complain of," Madge said. 
 " I did not know what a waltz was except by name 
 till after I was married ; and I do not think I
 
 156 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 have seen my husband dance a dozen times in 
 my life. I believe our romancing was done at 
 picnics ; and that must come to an end, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "What a sigh she gives," said Miss Morris, 
 with a little superior laugh, which made Madge 
 furious with herself to think she could not gain 
 the art of not saying what she meant. " But 
 when a man begins to pay for the beef and mut- 
 ton you eat at home, he does not care to share 
 the salad of picnics with you ; so you must ex- 
 pect to leave the romancing to us single ones." 
 
 "Beef and mutton are uncommonly supporting 
 to old age, and it is as well to secure them early ; 
 I don't at all see, Alicia, that you maidens keep 
 the romancing to yourselves. I think you and I, 
 for instance, have rather an entertaining life, Mrs. 
 Rowland ? " 
 
 Miss Morris conned her list, and murmured 
 over names. " Mrs. Ralstone, is she an inevita- 
 ble ? She is such a tedious little saint ! " 
 
 " Oh, invite her by all means, and let our poor 
 depraved parties have the reflected credit of her. 
 She is laid up at home with a sprained ankle, and 
 very much hurt, I suppose, because George has 
 not sprained his at the same time. If she is a 
 saint, he is a martyr to her jealousy." 
 
 " Very well, then, that finishes the list ; and I 
 think it approaches as nearly to being a commu-
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 157 
 
 nity without a bore as discrimination can make 
 it. What a pity it is only for four evenings out of 
 a lifetime ! " 
 
 Madge had never been addicted to gossip in 
 her younger days, either from a naturally re- 
 fined nature, or as a result of the months spent 
 every year in a society more cultivated than the 
 people about her ; but now she sat listening and 
 much amused by the running fire of comments 
 on all their acquaintance, carried on by her com- 
 panions. To be sure, it was said in more refined 
 tones, and the ill-nature expressed in better Eng- 
 lish, but the matter much the same, if she had 
 given any thought to it, as if she had been at a 
 Hartfield sewing-circle. There, it might have 
 been : " Well ! I never see anybody so pleased 
 with themselves as 'Manda was last Sabbath when 
 she swept down the aisle ; she looked as if she'd 
 put all the religion she'd got into her back- 
 breadths, and was setting an example to the rest 
 of the meeting-house. Anybody'd thought she 
 might have brought Mr. Price's beautiful remarks 
 on everlasting punishment home to herself ; but 
 I believe she felt more peace in knowing her 
 gown had been cut by a New York dressmaker 
 than if he'd told her she was one of the elect ! " 
 Here, it was : " Poor, pretty, little Mrs. Draper ! 
 a Worth dress, and no invitation to Mrs. Og- 
 den's reception ! Two thousand francs would
 
 158 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 have been rather clear to pay for the privilege of 
 sharing one of those deadly dull occasions." 
 
 " Yes ; but consider that the alternative was 
 to sit at home and be adored by Mr. Draper." 
 
 And mixed with it was a dangerous poison for 
 Madge in the calm acceptance of the fact that 
 admiration was as natural an element in the life 
 of Mrs. Harrison, or that of any other wife, as of 
 a woman who had yet to choose with whom to 
 cast her lot. 
 
 " If you never danced with your husband, and 
 indeed never danced before you knew him, where 
 did you learn to waltz as if you were born to it ? " 
 Miss Morris asked. 
 
 It was rather an irritating thing for her to be 
 called upon to praise any woman ; but as it was 
 the fashion to admire Mrs. Rowland, it was of no 
 use for her to stem the tide, and something might 
 be won by making herself acceptable. 
 
 " Ah ! it was Mr. Forrester who brought that 
 about ! What charming mornings those were at 
 Nice, in that great drawing-room of yours ! " 
 
 " Yes," Madge said. " Is there any place of 
 which you can bring back the feeling more than 
 of Nice ; the sun and the sea, and the flowers, 
 and even the hand-organs ? " 
 
 "Yes, and the sounds and the scents all coming 
 in under the half-lifted blinds ; and our handsome, 
 sentimental little count playing waltzes for us.
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 159 
 
 You know old Mr. Rowland used to say the poor 
 man's safety was in not knowing which of us had 
 hurt him the most ; but there was no doubt about 
 Mr. Forrester." 
 
 Madge colored, half pleased, half annoyed. 
 And Miss Morris was on the qui-vive\ for Mr. 
 Forrester was, she thought, the very most suit- 
 able match for herself in New York ; and slow as 
 he had proved himself in looking at the thing in 
 the same light, she did not yet despair. 
 
 "That is the reason, then, that Mr. Forrester 
 always takes such a personal interest in your 
 dancing. You certainly do him great credit." 
 
 " Not at all, my dear," Mrs. Harrison said, mis- 
 chievously. " He knows very well that Mrs. How- 
 land danced of herself; all that she needed was 
 some one to coax her to take the first turn. Oh, 
 no ! it's not the dancing only ! " 
 
 Miss Morris sat looking a trifle crosser than 
 her tact generally allowed her to do even under 
 trying circumstances, and drawing cabalistic signs 
 on the table-cloth, perhaps she would have liked 
 to make of them a spell to destroy some of the 
 pretty charm which she flattered herself was 
 what blinded Mr. Forrester to the superior worth 
 of mind and manners which she offered him. 
 
 " You will have to make your peace with Mr. 
 Forrester as to giving up our dances," Mrs. 
 Harrison went on to say ; " but there is one thing
 
 l6O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 he will not hear of your refusing to take part in 
 some theatricals at his sister's Mrs. Murray, 
 you know. I told him what a success you had in 
 Nice. There is just the part for you ; and you 
 really must not say no." 
 
 Madge looked excessively pleased. She had 
 taken a part in some theatricals in Nice given for 
 a charity, and the recollection of that evening 
 had left with her an intense desire to renew the 
 excitement the greatest she had ever known. 
 The applause, the admiration afterwards, seemed 
 to her the climax of girlish dreams. She knew 
 that her husband had not been overpleased with 
 her delight, or his father's encouragement of it ; 
 but still, perhaps, if she managed well, he might 
 not object. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison was quick enough to divine the 
 pleasure and doubt in Madge's face. " You really 
 cannot refuse ; the theatricals are for this new 
 Children's Hospital, in which your husband is 
 interested. Mrs. Murray is one of the managers ; 
 and Mr. Forrester said he would see you and tell 
 you all about the arrangements." 
 
 Madge expressed and looked the pleasure that 
 the prospect gave her, but still would make no 
 promises till she had consulted her husband, put- 
 ting it all on the ground of her sister's health, 
 but saying to herself, nevertheless, that this she 
 would not give up, if it were possible to accom-
 
 THE SELECT FEW. l6l 
 
 plish such a triumph, though, to be sure, it was 
 not easy to count on Jack's whims, where his 
 ideas of propriety were concerned. 
 
 Rachel enjoyed the concert quite as much as 
 Madge had hoped ; more, perhaps, than she would 
 have done if the sight of new faces and surround- 
 ings had distracted her attention. The tones in 
 which Beethoven spoke to others the language he 
 could not hear, penetrated her darkness, bringing 
 back visions of beautiful things, real now only in 
 her imagination. She could not quite repress 
 her tears ; but they were not sad ones, rather 
 of thankfulness for a new pleasure. Madge felt 
 this -as she put her hand on her sister's, and had 
 the pressure and pleasant smile in response. 
 Their seats were upon the outskirts, a little 
 apart, and, in an interval of the music, Rachel 
 heard some one who had taken a place close be- 
 hind them address her sister. It was Mr. For- 
 rester, and though Rachel caught only scraps of 
 the conversation, she brought home thoughts of 
 something beside the music something which 
 she was sorry to think might arouse fresh dis- 
 cussion between Madge and her husband. 
 
 " You have been lunching with Mrs. Harrison," 
 Mr. Forrester said, as he sat down ; " how go 
 the plans for reforming society ? " 
 
 "Very successfully, I think; but it is to be 
 done without my help." 
 ii
 
 l62 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " Why, I thought you were to be one of the 
 Fates to decide upon the survival of the fittest." 
 
 " No ; I shall content myself with being one of 
 those who are allowed to exist." 
 
 "And quite right," Mr. Forrester said, rather 
 energetically. " Mrs. Harrison is a nice creature, 
 and all she asks is to have her own way ; but 
 Alicia Morris is not the safest friend in the world 
 for you, my dear Mrs. Rowland. No, don't look 
 frightened. She does not like you less than any 
 other successful young person ; but she does not 
 like you any the better for having money and 
 youth, and all the rest of the blessings which the 
 gods give. She would not stand by you if any 
 one questioned your right to enjoy yourself in 
 your own way ; but she would use you to get any- 
 thing she wanted." 
 
 " And she always seemed so kind and pleasant 
 to me." 
 
 " And so she always will be, if you hold her at 
 arm's length. But as for these dances, you have 
 shown great wisdom in only allowing yourself to 
 be among the invited ones, for I meant to have 
 turned traitor and warned you. But did Mrs. 
 Harrison tell you of my plan about the theatri- 
 cals ? everything that is safe, and charitable, 
 and charming combined ; and they will be at my 
 sister's house. You really cannot say no to this." 
 
 " I am sure I do not want to say no, but I can-
 
 THE SELECT FEW. 163 
 
 not say yes on the spot. I must speak to my 
 husband." 
 
 " Oh, Rowland cannot object ; it is for his 
 hospital." 
 
 Madge thought that her husband was much 
 more likely to endow the hospital himself than let 
 her do anything of which he disapproved, but said 
 hopefully, " I don't very much fear a refusal. And 
 the play, is it chosen ? " 
 
 " Not definitely ; but it is one of two or three, 
 all charming. I shall bring them to read with 
 you." 
 
 Rachel asked, on the way home, a question or 
 two as to what she had heard. She thought of 
 her sister's acting as something not wrong, but 
 quite impossible for any one born and bred at 
 a Hartfield farm-house. Madge laughed. She 
 had acted abroad ; it was the greatest fun in the 
 world. Jack was sure not to object, unless he 
 should make some fuss about the play ; he was 
 so much more particular than other people, and 
 found harm where no one else would. 
 
 " Perhaps where it was much better that they 
 should," Rachel said. 
 
 " But you will not say a word," Madge coaxed ; 
 " there is everything in the way of putting things 
 to Jack. I don't really care now. I have thought 
 it over about those dances, so it is just as well ; 
 but I might have managed it much better by say-
 
 164 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ing nothing at all about excluding his dull friends. 
 It was that made him think it dangerous. Really, 
 Rachel, Jack has grown so old and solemn this 
 last year or two not a bit what he used to be." 
 
 " Because he grows so much more interested 
 in his work than in your gay doings ; and, Madge, 
 don't talk about managing your husband. It's 
 no way to do between people who love each other. 
 Tell him what you want, and if he sees that it's 
 better not, why, you can't wish for anything 
 enough to make it worth his displeasure. Just 
 think of father and mother." 
 
 " Now, Rachel," Madge said rather impatiently, 
 " don't be so old-fashioned, or I cannot talk to 
 you. What is there in father's and mother's life to 
 make any managing necessary. They have to 
 decide what color they will paint the barn, or how 
 large a present they can afford to give the minis- 
 ter. They always think just alike, and so there's 
 nothing to talk about. But with Jack and me it 
 is very different ; for you see how he goes his 
 way. Mother shares the care of father's cows, 
 and naturally has an interest in them ; but I can't 
 set the legs of Jack's patients, and so I find my 
 occupation among well people. Now don't look 
 forlorn, dear. If I had married a farmer (I'm 
 very glad I didn't), his cows and pigs, and all their 
 trials, should have been mine. You ought to give 
 me credit for fitting myself to the troubles of a 
 rich man's wife as well as I do."
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 
 
 MADGE was in high spirits over her theatrical 
 prospects ; said she was sure Jack would be de- 
 lighted to have her help in any way towards his 
 hospital ; but she would tell him all about it her- 
 self. If Rachel looked forlorn, it was no more 
 than she felt. It seemed as if Madge were out 
 of reach as well as out of sight. It was true 
 enough, what had there been in the experiences 
 of the simple home life to make her able to assist 
 her sister, or even understand what was best for 
 her to do ? if she had not the principle in her- 
 self, who was to help her ? However Madge put 
 the theatrical scheme to her husband, he received 
 it favorably ; indeed, was quite sympathetic with 
 her pleasure. It was all to be undertaken imme- 
 diately, so that the performance would be over 
 before the time he had fixed in his own mind 
 for Rachel's operation, and he was rather 
 glad to have some plan on foot which would in- 
 terest both sisters, and keep them from dwelling 
 on the anxiety before them.
 
 l66 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 The play had been decided upon : a pretty 
 English three-act piece, with a brunette heroine 
 for Mrs. Harrison, a blonde one for Madge, and 
 an older, dignified friend's part for Miss Morris. 
 What a merciful dispensation it would have been 
 if, with the vanishing of our early bloom, could 
 depart also all desire for the admiration it has 
 received ? But, alas ! the woman who still feels 
 the youthful glow which she no longer excites, is 
 very far from being ready to fall back upon the 
 resources which any compassionate rosebud would 
 tell her is all that is left for her in this world. 
 
 " Dear me, Alicia," Mrs. Harrison said, " I do 
 not see why you are not satisfied ; there is plen- 
 ty of chance for acting ; and as for looks, why, 
 you can have -as handsome clothes as you like. 
 There is nothing at all frumpy in the part, and 
 gray hair will be immensely becoming to you." 
 
 " I hope it may, when my time comes ; but I am 
 not anxious to have it arrive." 
 
 _ " Now, do you know I am not so sure of that. 
 I'm rather envious of Mrs. Graham ; she is no 
 older than I, and her white hair is extremely be- 
 coming." 
 
 " It's not the gray hair I mind ; but it is rather 
 vexatious to see you so pleased to take up this 
 little country girl and give her my place." 
 
 " Don't you mind rather more the fact of Mr. 
 Forrester's having taken up the little country
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 1 67 
 
 girl ? for that's what it really is. He chose ' The 
 Two Roses/ that there might be just the part for 
 her and for himself. Now, my dear, let me give 
 you a bit of advice. Don't waste your time 
 over Robert Forrester. He has no idea of mar- 
 rying you, or any one else ; but he does like the 
 excitement of a flirtation, and Mrs. Howland is 
 safer than any one else, she is such an innocent 
 little thing, and will take him seriously as long as 
 he wants to be so, and would not know enough to 
 bore him by holding him to an intimacy after he 
 had tired of her." 
 
 " I think you are very unkind, Gertrude," her 
 friend said, with rather a trembling voice. " You 
 know very well how my affairs were going on at 
 Newport. You said yourself you thought Mr. 
 Forrester quite seriously interested in me, and I 
 am sure it would have come to something before 
 now, if it had not been for Mrs. Howland ; and, 
 Gertrude, it really seems to me as if you encour- 
 aged her in thinking he admires her." 
 
 "And I have been flattering myself that I was 
 obliging you by covering his retreat from you 
 gracefully, and letting people see that I, as your 
 intimate friend, had nothing to resent. I must 
 say, Alicia, I do feel rather hurt at your misun- 
 derstanding me so." 
 
 All which meant that Mr. Forrester, being a 
 most important person in Mrs. Harrison's circle,
 
 168 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 she was anxious to have him known as intimate 
 at her house ; and when his attentions to her 
 cousin began to wane, she had been very careful 
 that she should still be his confidante, and her 
 house his headquarters. 
 
 All went smoothly, till, one morning, Mr. 
 Forrester appeared at Dr Rowland's long be- 
 fore visiting hours, and when Madge went down 
 to receive him, met her with a despairing face, 
 and " Mrs. Rowland, you see a stage-man- 
 ager reduced to the last extremities ! " 
 
 " Nothing very bad, I hope. Has not the new 
 scenery arrived ? " 
 
 " Scenery, and no actors. The fact is, we have 
 made a great mistake in taking too many members 
 of our troupe from one family, and we are all plunged 
 in affliction at once. I shall ask, next Sunday, 
 that a theatrical corps may have the prayers of 
 the congregation that the death of a grandmother 
 may be sanctified to them. Old Mrs. Morton is 
 dead, and as she is related to half the town, she 
 takes with her not into the grave, but quite as 
 much out of our reach our leading lover, our 
 rich old uncle, and that best of prompters, Mrs. 
 Welles, who has promised to save me from dis- 
 gracing myself. Why, I believe that even little 
 Dickey Blake, the call-boy, is a residuary legatee, 
 so that you see all we have to do is to expend what 
 we had hoped to make, on a supper to cheer our
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW R^LE. 169 
 
 spirits, which need it so much more than the or- 
 phans do ; that is to say, unless " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Forrester," said Madge as he paused, 
 " do you really mean that all our pleasant times 
 are over ? Is there nothing else we can under- 
 take ? At least, the rest of you might go on ; for 
 I could not promise for any time later." And she 
 looked so grieved and so pretty, with the color 
 coming into her cheeks and almost tears in her 
 eyes, that Mr. Forrester felt more determined 
 than ever to carry the point for which he had 
 come. 
 
 " I was going to say that Mrs. Harrison and I 
 have a plan which we think will be quite as great 
 a success as the other ; but we need your help 
 let me tell you before you say a word. There 
 was a charming play which half a dozen of us got 
 up at Newport last summer, and it so happens 
 that every one is in town now who acted in it ex- 
 cept Miss Granger, and her part would suit you 
 to perfection. Yes, I know," in answer to her 
 look of objection, "it is a great deal to ask of 
 you to learn a new part when all the rest of us 
 will have so little to do to bring back ours ; but 
 we cannot start for a new play without you. I 
 shall refuse point-blank ; and it is such a pity to 
 let it drop now we have gone so far ; the cause is 
 such a good one, and the whole thing will be so 
 pleasant."
 
 I/O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " It's not the trouble," Madge said ; " but it 
 seems impossible for me to attempt a new part. 
 Just this one happened to suit me, or you were 
 all good enough to say so ; but there could not 
 be another that I should do so well ; and alto- 
 gether it's better not. You can find some one 
 else. I know that there are others who are long- 
 ing to act." 
 
 But Mr. Forrester was firm, and would make 
 her at least listen. His part was very much with 
 hers, so that he could rehearse with her whenever 
 she liked ; and it was not as if they were starting 
 all new together, and one held back another. A 
 couple of full rehearsals would be all that the rest 
 would need ; the dresses and scenery of the other 
 play would suit. Every objection, in short, was 
 smoothed away ; and then out of his pocket came 
 the whole play and her part, and he went over a 
 few sentences with her, and she felt the spirit of 
 it coming to her. 
 
 " Then I may tell Mrs. Harrison it is all ar- 
 ranged ? You will go over your part to-day, and 
 to-morrow morning at this time I will be here for 
 a little rehearsal between ourselves, and then we 
 will arrange for a fuller one with Mrs. Harrison! 
 She will be so relieved ; for, to tell you the truth, 
 I did not like to say so before for fear of over- 
 urging you ; but it really all did depend upon you, 
 because one or two of our most important actors
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 171 
 
 are going off to the South, and could not have 
 acted later any more than yourself." And this 
 last remark being an invention on the spot did 
 great credit to his acting by the ease with which 
 it was given. 
 
 Madge ran up stairs all excitement, sorry to 
 give up the first play, but extremely gratified 
 that her assistance should be of so much 'impor- 
 tance. Her husband had started that morning 
 for Baltimore to attend the meeting of a medical 
 society, and in spite of the differences which, after 
 all, interfered far more seriously with his happi- 
 ness than hers, Madge was too dependent upon 
 him not to feel rather low-spirited at the thought 
 of being without him for two or three weeks. 
 Now, she would be almost too busy to think of 
 Jack, she congratulated herself ; and this being a 
 stormy day, and no fear of interruptions, she 
 would curl up on the sofa in Rachel's room, and 
 give herself to the work of learning the new part. 
 With the quick memory of youth her task was 
 not a difficult one, and as she studied it grew 
 upon her, and she could see how, with Mr. For- 
 rester's help, she could master the difficulties, and 
 she hoped she was not very vain, but she felt 
 as if she could make it a success. I do not mean 
 to represent my little heroine as a genius of whom 
 matrimony had robbed the stage ; but to graceful 
 prettiness she added another charm, perhaps the
 
 1/2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 greatest of all : a voice having in it the power of 
 expressing all the shades from merriest fun to a 
 pathos which went to one's very heart Madge 
 was still a little thing when she found out that 
 there was a certain tone which was almost sure to 
 gain all she wanted from David, and when her 
 father had wished an excuse for weakly yielding, 
 he would say, " Oh, if the child teased, of course 
 I should not do what she wanted ; but you know, 
 mother, when she asks in that dear little voice " 
 and it was always because it sounded like his own 
 mother, or sister, or brought to him some tone 
 from away over the sea, and which never would 
 come into his life again. 
 
 What was the plot of the new play ? Rachel 
 asked. Madge did not know yet. She would 
 study a while and then rest herself by reading it 
 all through. When she did read it, it occurred 
 to her that her husband might not be pleased 
 with the change. The first play had been a 
 pretty love-story, with all the conventional mis- 
 understandings which, on the stage, lead to a 
 life of bliss ; but this one was a different matter. 
 There was not a coarse word from one end to the 
 other. Refined people expressed their feelings 
 for each other in delicate language ; and yet she 
 could not help questioning what her husband 
 might say as to her helping to act out this story 
 which dealt with the sorrows of a young wife,
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 173 
 
 who, doubting her husband's affection, allowed 
 his intimate friend to espouse her cause, and to 
 make it too nearly his own for his happiness. 
 The tangled skein was all made to run smooth 
 and clear from knots, and at the end of the play 
 the curtain fell on the four principal characters, 
 each prepared to lead forever after a life of useful- 
 ness and virtue, provided nothing more tempting 
 should offer. 
 
 Madge read it through, very much interested in 
 the story, making notes of Mr. Forrester's sug- 
 gestions, and pleased to feel herself understand- 
 ing them. Then she laid it down and began to 
 think what Jack would say. She knew very well 
 how it would be in the beginning ; but she should 
 argue with him ; and she carried on a little con- 
 versation in her own mind. " Don't you see, 
 Jack dear," she should say, " it was really impos- 
 sible that D'Harcourt should help becoming in- 
 terested in such a lovely little creature ; and how 
 true she was to her husband through all his neg- 
 lect." To which the imaginary Jack should have 
 answered : " Certainly ; I see that they were all 
 very interesting people, and I think your part will 
 suit you perfectly." But, unluckily, it seemed 
 much more natural to suppose him saying : " I dare 
 say she was very much to be pitied for having such 
 a brute for a husband, and deserved great credit 
 for behaving herself respectably ; but I should
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 prefer my wife not to take part in such a doubtful 
 story." It was really very awkward, she thought. 
 Of course, if Jack were at home she should refer 
 the matter to him at once ; but he would not re- 
 turn until just in time for the play ; and to write 
 would do no good, for there was not a day to lose. 
 It was of no use to consult Rachel, who would 
 only say, " If there is any risk of displeasing Jack, 
 give it up." Mrs. Lee? but Madge was becom- 
 ing rather touchy about Mrs. Lee's expressing 
 any opinion at all concerning her affairs. 
 
 To do Madge justice, facing the opposition 
 which her refusal to act would have brought upon 
 her would have required some strength of mind 
 seeming to be ridiculous prudery in the eyes 
 of all the people with whom she had to deal ; and 
 for herself it was a disappointment which she 
 could rfot contemplate. No wonder, then, if she 
 gradually succeeded in convincing herself that 
 her scruples were quite unnecessary. Jack would 
 be so pleased with her success that he would 
 forget to criticise the play, especially if no doubt 
 were excited in his mind first by being called 
 upon to decide the matter. 
 
 Just as she was working her way out of her 
 indecision came a note from Mrs. Harrison, all 
 thanks and delight. She should enjoy acting the 
 play again herself extremely ; and Mr. Forrester 
 had come back quite enthusiastic about Madge's
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 1/5 
 
 reading of the bits they had looked over together. 
 So the matter was settled, and Madge lay back 
 on the sofa with such a sigh of relief that 
 Rachel asked what was the matter. It was 
 only that she was rather tired, for there was 
 a good deal to learn, and she was more anxious 
 than ever to do well, as the others were all 
 sure of their parts. Yes, the play was a very good 
 one ; the story more interesting than the other ; 
 a little sad, but it ended well. Her part was that 
 of Mme. Bertrand, who had married a man much 
 older than herself, very kind to her, but rather 
 neglectful. Mrs. Harrison was the intimate friend 
 of both ; Madge was going to have said the hus- 
 band's old love, but thought to herself it would 
 give Rachel an unfair idea of the story. M. De- 
 faure that was Mr. Forrester was also a 
 friend, who, seeing that she was unhappy, and 
 finding out the cause, undertook to win her hus- 
 band back to her. 
 
 " I should think that was taking a great liber- 
 ty," Rachel said. " If the poor little wife could not 
 manage her household better than that, she must 
 have been too weak to keep him after he was 
 brought back." 
 
 " Well, perhaps so ; but we leave them all good 
 and happy, and promising never to do so any 
 more. I'm not responsible for my Mme. Ber- 
 trand after the curtain drops."
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 "I don't know, Madge. I suppose I'm very 
 ignorant ; but I feel as if every one would have 
 you mixed up with these French people in their 
 minds, and imagine their story to be yours." 
 
 " Well, if they did, dear, Mme. Bertrand is a 
 very good little woman, and I shall do my best to 
 make her so attractive that the audience will wish 
 that I \\^re really she, and want a great deal more 
 of me. Please not to worry, Rachel dear, for 
 really I don't want to be disrespectful. But 
 you don't know about things of this kind, and 
 I do." 
 
 " I wish I knew more, for your sake," Rachel 
 said, feeling very helpless as she thought that she 
 only knew enough to make her anxious, but not 
 enough to be of any use in advising Madge. Oh, 
 for the sight which would make her feel again her 
 natural quick-witted self where Madge was con- 
 cerned ! 
 
 The rehearsals went on with wonderful amia- 
 bility for private theatricals. The time was too 
 short for quarrelling, and moreover, the actors 
 were too well pleased with themselves to begrudge 
 praise to each other with one exception. It was 
 hard upon Alicia Morris to be called upon to act 
 a middle-aged, jolly part with gray hair, when 
 convinced that as a pathetic blonde she would 
 not have left a dry eye in the house. She had felt 
 aggrieved from the first at being assigned a part
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. I// 
 
 in the farce ; but in the beginning there had been 
 also the character in the longer play ; and though 
 it was not all she could wish, still it was a good 
 part, and she did not dare to find any fault, at 
 least to any one except her cousin ; for she would 
 not for the world have risked the opportunities 
 given her of meeting Mr. Forrester so constantly 
 in the rehearsals. Then came the change in the 
 plays, and, for a very brief period, Alicia thought 
 her chance had come. At Newport, Miss Gran- 
 ger, who acted Mme. Bertrand, had been ill for a 
 few days, and Alicia had been obliged to read her 
 part at rehearsals ; and having made the most of 
 her time in the fear or hope of Miss Granger not 
 being well enough to act, had got herself so well 
 up in the character, that when it was proposed 
 again, she was quite sure she should be the hero- 
 ine selected. To lose this opportunity of shin- 
 ing, and to have the man she loved prefer to act 
 with another woman, was intolerable. She could 
 not deceive herself into believing that he cared 
 for her, but there was always the hope that when 
 this present fancy was over, he might come back 
 to the relations which had, as she fancied, existed 
 between them, and, alas for her ! were too impor- 
 tant to her happiness to be broken off without a 
 struggle for their possession. She knew now 
 that it was not the fortune, the handsome estab- 
 lishment, or the English dog-cart and thorough- 
 
 12 .
 
 178 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 breds, which she longed to possess ; it was the 
 owner of these things she would win, and if they 
 had all disappeared some day in a crash, and left 
 him a poor man, it would, or she thought it 
 would, have made no difference. 
 
 Judge, then, how she appreciated the success of 
 the woman who was taking so easily the position 
 she thought would have given her all she wanted 
 to secure her end. It was almost hatred with 
 which she regarded Madge, so pretty, so sweet 
 in all her ways, even to her ; asking her, the 
 woman who was bitter enough in her jealousy to 
 have destroyed all her prettiness, for advice how 
 to make herself more charming still ! Poor little 
 Madge, thinking herself to be growing so learned 
 in the ways of the world, she had not the com- 
 monest weapons with which to defend herself 
 against any harm that might come to her, whether 
 in the form of evil wishes or still more dangerous 
 kindness. She only wanted to amuse herself, 
 and be loved and petted by every one about her ; 
 and though she did sometimes shrink from Miss 
 Morris's black looks, given out of Mr. Forrester's 
 sight, she never thought of fearing any danger to 
 her happiness in the admiration of the others ; 
 was not Jack her husband ? though not so in- 
 dulgent to her little faults as she wished he would 
 be, still the man of all the world to her, and the 
 one she most wished to attract.
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 179 
 
 To Alicia's dear friend Gertrude, who saw all 
 that was passing, this little drama, acting itself 
 out almost on the same stage with the other, was 
 quite interesting. It was like one of those scenes 
 where the audience is allowed to see what is going 
 on in two rooms at once, and as Mrs. Harrison 
 was of a romantic turn, it pleased her fancy to 
 think that the story in which she was taking a 
 subordinate part had as much interest as the plot 
 of the French author's imagining. Mrs. Harrison 
 would have said of herself that she had a very 
 artistic nature, and could not look upon things 
 simply in a practical way ; so she grouped herself 
 and her friends in interesting positions, and with 
 a deal of talk about sympathies and magnetism 
 which meant nothing at all, unless it were that 
 good honest love counted for nothing when 
 temptation came did all the harm that her 
 means would allow. The readiest form of mis- 
 chief at hand at this moment was the interest 
 of encouraging Mr. Forrester's admiration for 
 Mrs. Howland, in order that she might enjoy the 
 excitement of being his confidante. 
 
 Alicia had added to her chances of misery, by 
 offering to be prompter in the French play, with 
 the idea that if she could not act with Mr. For- 
 rester, she should at least see all that was pass- 
 ing. And watch she did with an untiring eye, till 
 Madge, who knew nothing of the secret history
 
 ISO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 acting about her, began to have an uneasy sense 
 of influences near, quite beyond her small powers 
 of charming. Mr. Forrester, as he thanked her for 
 her untiring attention as prompter, .registered a 
 vow that never again should ball or picnic, or 
 even a tete-a-tete shipwreck on a desert island, 
 draw forth from him a single attention to the 
 poor, disappointed woman, whose watchfulness, af- 
 ter all, was partly in hope of learning by heart some 
 of the fascinations which Madge lavished so care- 
 lessly. A few small rewards she had in the 
 opportunities given her of administering an occa- 
 sional pin-prick to Madge in the shape of hints. 
 
 " You will excuse me, I know, Mrs. Rowland," 
 she said, " if I suggest a little difference which 
 Miss Granger made in acting this. Just here, 
 where M. Defaure comes to you and says that 
 he hopes to bring you back your husband, Miss 
 Granger showed her sense of there being some- 
 thing more impressive than usual in his manner, 
 by a slight shrinking from him. But you it's 
 only an idea on my part, you know, but I 
 thought you allowed a little too much demonstra- 
 tion from him, rather more than was quite neces- 
 sary." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not," Madge said, looking quite 
 disturbed. " My conception of Adele's character 
 was that she should show her unconsciousness, 
 by being entirely at ease with him, as an old
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW R^LE. l8l 
 
 friend, until it comes just to the place in the last 
 act, where it suddenly flashes upon her. I think 
 it makes the feeling so much more marked on 
 her part to have it come in one burst at the end. 
 Oh, no, I should not like to change it, because 
 it is just what I think interesting in her, that she 
 was so occupied with her love for her husband 
 that she had no thought for any one else. And 
 yet, if you say that Miss Granger had a different 
 idea " 
 
 " No, no, don't let me interfere with you. I dare 
 say you are right, and that the audience will see 
 it just as you do. I only thought that there was 
 perhaps just a little too much, nothing of any 
 great consequence, but merely that a little less 
 ease of manner would be better." And Madge was 
 left quite as uncomfortable as her adviser wished ; 
 but Alicia had not counted on the simplicity which 
 should betray her share in the change detected by 
 Mr. Forrester as soon as they came to the passage 
 in question. 
 
 " Stop one moment, please, Mrs. Rowland," he 
 said ; " you are doing that a little differently to- 
 night, and I was not prepared for it." 
 
 Madge hesitated, and said that she would like 
 to alter it a little, as she understood that Miss 
 Granger had made a difference here. 
 
 " Well, if she did, there is no occasion to copy 
 her exactly. I thought her acting very satisfac-
 
 182 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 tory at the time ; but with all due deference to 
 her, I think you have shown us something still 
 better, and for my part I want no change. How 
 did you know about the difference between Miss 
 Granger's idea and yours ? " 
 
 " Miss Morris was kind enough to give me a 
 little advice about it," Madge said, feeling a little 
 scared as she saw the two frowning faces. 
 
 Mr. Forrester looked as if, under any other cir- 
 cumstances, he might have expressed himself 
 strongly. Mrs. Harrison whispered : 
 
 " Bless you, my dear, never mind Alicia ; she 
 is dying to have the part herself. She has learned 
 it all by heart, in hopes she may have a chance 
 given her to act it in the next world, if not in this. 
 It's not in human nature to forgive you for doing 
 it so charmingly ; but go your own way. I should 
 not make the slightest alteration if I were you." 
 
 But this was by-play, and interfered in no way 
 with the prospect of a brilliant end to their pleas- 
 ant toils. If Madge had enjoyed her first expe- 
 rience in Nice, infinitely more did she now, when 
 she felt herself really admitted into the circle which 
 represented to her all that was most agreeable in 
 her world. Sometimes a pang of anxiety con- 
 cerning Rachel crossed her mind, but it was not 
 in her nature to look a trouble straight in the 
 face ; and this one she could honestly say was so 
 out of her control that she would put it as much
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW RC)LE. 183 
 
 as possible out of her mind till the exact time 
 for the operation was settled ; indeed, it was not 
 a hard thing for her to do in the atmosphere 
 of excitement and flattery in which she was 
 living. 
 
 Dr. Rowland reached home a day or two before 
 the plays, not quite so excited over the great 
 event as his wife thought he might have been. 
 She said to herself, with a little sigh, that Jack 
 was always dreadfully wise, but then he was sure 
 to be delighted when he saw her on the. evening. 
 It was not vanity to believe the praises which she 
 was receiving from those about her, and he must 
 admire her more than these 'new friends. Her 
 husband really did his best to give her sympathy ; 
 but it seemed to him almost impossible to care 
 for anything but the near approach of the opera- 
 tion on Rachel's eyes, nearer even than he had 
 dared to tell her ; for it would take place now in a 
 very few days. A surgeon, on whose assistance 
 he relied, would be in New York at this time, and 
 they had agreed that it was better not to defer 
 it any longer. It might be as well to let Madge 
 enjoy herself up to the moment ; but he had only 
 the one thought : Rachel had grown very dear to 
 him as friend and sister, and though he had every 
 hope, there was always a possibility of failure, and 
 he had room for no other real interest in these few 
 clays, not even in his pretty wife's success, and
 
 184 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 he would much rather have had her at home with 
 himself. 
 
 And the night came. There was to be a final 
 dress rehearsal in the afternoon, and as Mrs. 
 Murray lived at a distance, Madge was to drive 
 with Mrs. Harrison, her husband following by 
 himself, and they would return together. This 
 gave Dr. Rowland the very chance he wished of 
 a quiet talk alone with Rachel ; for he knew that 
 she would not wish the time for her operation to 
 be announced to her hurriedly. He had dreaded 
 it ; but it was she who made the telling quite easy 
 to him ; for as they sat in the twilight by his study 
 fire, she said : 
 
 " Is not the time very near now when you can 
 decide what may be done for my eyes ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Dr. Summerson will be here this week, 
 and I see no reason for any further delay." 
 
 "And it will be then " 
 
 " In two days, unless you feel less well, or have 
 any wish to wait." 
 
 " None at all ; it is a great relief to me. I am 
 only thankful ; and now that there will be no 
 clashing with Madge's enjoyments, I shall be so 
 glad to have it over." 
 
 There were a few questions to ask, which Dr. 
 Howland could answer favorably ; for Dr. Sum- 
 merson's opinion had been very satisfactory. And 
 then, after a pause, Dr. Howland said,:
 
 MRS. HOWL AND IN A NEW ROLE. 185 
 
 " And Madge ; I suppose she has been very 
 busy, and full of excitement." 
 
 " Oh yes, and very happy. I fancy everything 
 has gone to her entire satisfaction, and that she 
 will be lovely to-night. It seems very queer to 
 me, for you know I never saw the inside of a the- 
 atre, so that I cannot even imagine her. The- 
 nearest approach which I can make to it is to 
 recollect Helen Lee coming up to Hartfield after 
 she had first been taken to a theatre, and trying- 
 to make us understand what it was like by pin- 
 ning up shawls in a stall at one end of the great 
 barn. We chose Cinderella for our play, because 
 the pumpkin for the coach was lying all ready for 
 us. How it all comes back to me ! and Madge 
 made such a dear little Cinderella sitting on a 
 heap of corn-cobs, which we called ashes ; and she 
 cried so naturally when she could not go to the 
 ball, that David came in and scolded us because 
 he thought that Helen and I were teasing her." 
 
 " Well, I hope she will not have her head turned 
 with it all ; but I must go and look after her," he 
 said, rising, " though I think I would rather spend 
 the evening by the fire here." 
 
 "Oh, no ; you will be delighted. They had a 
 rehearsal here once for my benefit, and Madge's 
 voice 'did sound very lovely ; and she said it so 
 naturally, that, when she .was unhappy, I was 
 goose enough to cry, too."
 
 1 86 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " How did you like the change in the play ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " In the other they did not go down into the 
 depths so much, and I think it would have been 
 much more amusing. The story of this is rather 
 more interesting and pathetic ; but it is one of 
 those tangles which worry me to read about. I 
 want to take hold of the threads and straighten 
 them out." 
 
 " Not so very easy to do in or out of a book," 
 he said. " I wish she were not involved with 
 Mrs. Harrison ; but perhaps it will come straight 
 of itself. They will be separated, I hope, this 
 summer, and perhaps next winter." 
 
 " By next winter I may be able to help," Rachel 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, you can, you can, I am sure," he said, 
 grasping her hands so earnestly that he almost 
 pained her. " The missing of your care has been 
 a great loss to Madge and to me. I dare to say 
 it now, when I have so much hope for you." 
 
 " Give me my eyes," she said, smiling, though 
 her voice trembled, " and no harm shall come to 
 Madge that I can prevent." 
 
 When Dr. Hovvland arrived at Mrs. Murray's, 
 the first play had not begun ; but the little the- 
 atre looked quite full ; and as neither host nor 
 hostess were visible at the moment, he took the 
 first seat which was in sight, not caring very
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW Rl^LE. l8/ 
 
 much where he sat until later, when he would 
 find the Lees. But he had not been in his place 
 long before finding out two things: first, that he 
 could not move without disturbing a row of people 
 who had come in after him ; and, secondly, that 
 he was not in a friendly atmosphere. Two ladies 
 in front of him were discussing the plays and 
 actors, in what purported to be undertones, but 
 the voices were of a penetrating quality, and as 
 the speakers turned toward each other they came 
 just in the range of his ears. 
 
 " This Mrs. Rowland is very pretty, is she 
 not ? " one said. " I have never seen her be- 
 fore." 
 
 " Quite so," the other answered ; " he found her 
 somewhere in the country and took her abroad to 
 train her ; so Alicia Morris tells me. Mrs. Har- 
 rison has taken her up very much ; but Alicia 
 says she is a very willful little person, and is 
 having her head turned very fast. Robert For- 
 rester is very attentive to her, and he is an un- 
 merciful flirt, you know." 
 
 " I thought I heard, when I was abroad, that 
 he was very attentive to Alicia herself." 
 
 " He certainly was ; and I think Alicia likes 
 him. But you know how much power a pretty 
 married woman has ; and Mrs. Howland has quite 
 taken him to herself. Why, Alicia says that the 
 rehearsals have been one continuous flirtation,
 
 1 88 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 and she really thought it her duty to advise her 
 to be a little less tender in some parts ; but she 
 said she could not possibly alter her conception 
 of the part. I only hope her husband will look 
 at it from the same point of view." 
 
 Dr. Rowland had just made up his mind that 
 if a regiment of feet were in his way he should 
 walk over them sooner than remain within ear- 
 shot of such unpleasant neighbors as these, when 
 the curtain went up, and there seemed no danger 
 of hearing anything more for the present. The 
 play over, he rose to change his place, and some 
 one near calling his name, he had at least the 
 savage satisfaction of seeing the two unconscious 
 offenders turn, with a nervous start, and to hear 
 an agonized whisper of, " Oh ! do you think he 
 could ? " as he made his way out. 
 
 A large part of Dr. Rowland's life, indeed all 
 of it which had been spent with his father, had 
 been a training in the control of his temper, and 
 it was very rarely that he felt so thoroughly 
 ruffled as he did at this moment. It was not 
 with his wife especially that he was vexed, not 
 more than with himself, and with circumstances 
 out of his control except by taking a stand in 
 opposition to Madge, which he would avoid if 
 possible. When he found a seat by Mrs. Lee, 
 there was on his face a grave, even vexed, look, 
 very different from his usual bright good-humor.
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW R^LE. 189 
 
 " You have only just arrived ? " she said. 
 
 " No ; I wish that I had. I have been sitting 
 behind two spiteful women, and feel as if I had 
 broken into a hornets' nest." 
 
 " That's a pity," Mrs. Lee said ; " for we have 
 been looking for you. Helen saw Madge for a 
 few moments behind the scenes, and she asked 
 her to keep a seat for you ; and said, too, that we 
 were not to sit directly under her eyes. So I 
 think that this is just the place for her and for 
 us." 
 
 " I should like it better if it were out of sight 
 altogether," he said, so moodily, that Mrs. Lee 
 felt at once that the hornet must have stung in a 
 very tender place, and it was for her to apply 
 soothing remedies. She asked a question or two 
 about his visit to Baltimore, which he answered 
 in rather a distrait manner, and then said : 
 
 " Have you seen any of the rehearsals of this 
 play, Aunt Fanny ? " 
 
 " I have not ; but Helen went to your house 
 the other day, and happened to come in when 
 they were acting for Rachel. She came home 
 charmed with Madge ; Rachel's face was quite a 
 study, she said, and as expressive as Madge's 
 voice." 
 
 " They are a lovely pair of sisters," Jack said, 
 tenderly ; " and if we can only have Rachel's sight 
 back, she will be an immense help to us all."
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Mrs. Lee was sorry to hear an acknowledg- 
 ment of any help being wanted by the young hus- 
 band and wife, but she only said, " She is Madge's 
 counterpart, and gives her just the balance that 
 such a bright young creature wants ; neither 
 could do without the other." 
 
 He assented, thoughtfully, but looking a little 
 comforted, and asked : 
 
 " You do not know anything about this play, 
 then ? It was changed after I went away." 
 
 " Only in a general way, that it was acted at 
 Newport last summer, and very successfully. It 
 is a translation from the French." 
 
 "French morals and American white-wash, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " No ; Mrs. Murray would not allow anything 
 objectionable acted in her house ; there are plenty 
 of nice French plays, if one knows where to look, 
 and this will be one of them. You must not be- 
 gin by being determined to be critical, my dear 
 boy, or you will not enjoy Madge's success ; and 
 she will be terribly disappointed if you are not 
 pleased. She was fidgeting because you had 
 not arrived. I hope she will catch sight of you 
 before long." 
 
 " Dear little woman," her husband said, and 
 then the orchestra began to play the final strains 
 of the " Morgenblatter," and every one settled 
 themselves in their seats.
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW R6LE. IQI 
 
 There was nothing at all that even Jack's sen- 
 sitive vision could find to criticise in the first 
 act, certainly not in Madge's part. She was a 
 sweet young wife, very anxious to please her hus- 
 band, vaguely descrying her own lack of power, 
 and loving the false friend who was stealing him 
 from her ; and when the curtain went down he 
 could receive very cordially the congratulations 
 of friends about them, and write an affectionate 
 word or two on a twisted scrap of paper, which 
 he sent to Madge by .some messenger to the 
 green-room. But as some one behind them said, 
 enthusiastically, " Did you ever see anything bet- 
 ter than Mrs. Harrison, she acts so naturally ? " 
 he growled in an aside to Mrs. Lee, " Yes ; acted 
 to the very life. Aunt Fanny, I hope that woman 
 is not contagious. I cannot bear to see Madge 
 in her atmosphere." 
 
 " Let her breathe as little of it as you can, and 
 help her to like a better one. Remember, my 
 dear, she does not know this life as well as you do, 
 and you must take the charge of her on yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Lee heard the involuntary sigh ; but, then, 
 who should do it if he did not ? It would have 
 been of no use to tell him in the beginning that 
 he was taking a very heavy responsibility ; but, 
 in justice to Madge, she must not be left now to 
 walk in unknown ways alone. 
 
 The play went on increasing in interest, and
 
 IQ2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 really sufficiently well acted to make the audience 
 forget their familiarity with the actors far more 
 than is usual in private theatricals. As it was 
 not the first performance, they were sufficiently 
 at ease to throw themselves into their parts, and 
 Dr. Rowland found himself almost forgetting 
 that he was watching his own wife, while sympa- 
 thizing with the sorrows of Mme. Bertrand. Even 
 the ill-natured comments he had heard passed 
 out of his mind, till suddenly recalled in the 
 progress of the play, and then he said to himself 
 that he thought he should not have criticised the 
 same thing in any other woman. The -question 
 was, did he wish his wife to place herself before 
 an audience at all, giving the right to others to 
 discuss her and any mistakes of judgment which 
 she might make ? But from that wide view of 
 the subject he shrank, feeling that this evening's 
 applause was a poor preparation for making Madge 
 look at it in the light he wished. As for Mrs. 
 Harrison, her part was, he thought, peculiarly 
 fitted to her ; a woman who would struggle for 
 admiration till the day of her death, without a 
 thought of sparing the happiness of any life which 
 stood between her and her vanity. He had 
 known her very thoroughly in former days, and 
 knew quite well how much, or rather how little, 
 faith was to be put in her. Mrs. Lee was very 
 glad to see him looking like himself again when
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW RC>LE. 193 
 
 the play was over, and as if he would not be- 
 grudge his wife sympathy in her little triumph ; 
 but as they came out of the theatre, and in a dim 
 corner stood blocked for a few moments by the 
 crowd, a scrap of conversation struck his ear be- 
 tween two men. 
 
 " Bob Forrester acted his part con amore ; they 
 say he is quite taken off his feet by that little 
 beauty." 
 
 " It's always some one. He helps a woman 
 over a mud-puddle as if he were saving her life, 
 and they all believe in him. I should like to know 
 his trick v " 
 
 Back came the cloud again, and he had to set 
 his teeth and remember that this was no time to 
 show annoyance, whatever he might feel ; indeed, 
 Madge's smile of delight was very pleasant to see 
 as he joined her and answered her questioning 
 look with one of congratulation and pride ; he 
 could not deny her that. It was all that she had 
 imagined it, this evening of success and flattery. 
 The gayest and pleasantest of her little world 
 offering congratulations and compliments till no 
 wonder if the pretty head whirled with the fumes 
 of the incense burned before it. Whatever Dr. 
 Rowland's judgment of Mrs. Harrison might be, 
 as a vain and worldly woman, she could be, when 
 she pleased, a very charming companion ; and just 
 now it did please her to be known as the friend
 
 194 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 who had brought to light this new and (until she 
 had drawn the curtain) unknown beairy. 
 
 Madge was so far too absolutely simple to think 
 of herself as having any pretensions to rivalry with 
 a person of Mrs. Harrison's position, and in her 
 ignorance of the world was quite ready to stand 
 second at her friend's bidding. To her husband, 
 longing to have her away from all this, the .gay 
 supper, with its flatteries and jests and lingering 
 over the triumphs of the evening, seemed inter- 
 minable ; but Madge could not bear to have an 
 end come to what she thought the most delight- 
 ,ful experience of her whole life. 
 
 " You have learned one great duty of a hus- 
 band : to stand in a doorway and look patient," 
 Mrs. Harrison said, laughing, as she came up to 
 him where he was waiting with his wife's last 
 wraps over his arm, and, if he looked patient, cer- 
 tainly not feeling so. 
 
 " I was just wondering," he answered, l< if my 
 duty at present was not to be severe, and carry 
 off my charge with a firm hand. Are not you all 
 tired to death ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am not, and I can answer for Mrs. 
 Howland. We shall be dreadfully tired to-mor- 
 row if you should want anything of us, but now 
 we could go on forever. But why hurry her off? 
 do let her have the last moment of it ; one does 
 not have perfect evenings so very often in one's
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW RO^LE. IQ5 
 
 life." Then with a little look of malice : " It's 
 not so very long ago, Dr. Rowland, that you bore 
 a grudge against the husbands and fathers who 
 appear at midnight in the doorways. I remem- 
 ber, if you don't, some evenings which we were 
 very sorry to have come to an end." 
 
 " I won't deny that they were very pleasant, and 
 I dare say I wished as much evil to the impatient 
 husbands as any of the rest ; but now, you see, I 
 must stand by my order. And then we have 
 not all the gift of everlasting youth, Mrs. Har- 
 rison." 
 
 She looked more annoyance than she generally 
 allowed herself to express, and said : " I do not 
 know that I thank you especially for your com- 
 pliment, but I will generously return it with a 
 piece of advice ': not to curb that pretty wife of 
 yours too tight. If you have done with the 
 world, she has just begun, and she is not going 
 to settle down by the fireside with you quite 
 yet look at her," as Madge came down the 
 wide staircase, wrapped in her white cloak, hands 
 laden with flowers, and face bright and eager in 
 its young loveliness, as she answered back to the 
 gay compliments of the group with her. Jack 
 said hurriedly, scarce knowing what were the 
 words he used : 
 
 " For heaven's sake, then, don't teach her the 
 ways of your world, or you'll spoil as sweet a
 
 196 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 creature as was ever made ; " and he went for- 
 ward to give her his arm and carry her away. 
 
 At last the carriage-door shut, and as they 
 whirled off into the darkness Madge threw her- 
 self back with a long breath and " What an en- 
 chanting evening it has been ! " In another 
 moment, and as he was thinking how should he 
 begin with some of his calming words to bring 
 her back to a quieter mood, she put her hand in 
 his and said : 
 
 " Now, Jack, for the best of all, tell me you 
 were really a little proud of me." 
 
 He gave the caress she wanted, and said : 
 
 " Not more proud of my wife than I always am." 
 
 " Ah, but say something real to me, Jack I 
 don't want a common compliment, such as every 
 one else has been giving me. Was I acting as 
 well as I tried to do ? and did it please you ? Tell 
 me truly." 
 
 " Then, darling, you acted so well that it took 
 me by surprise ; and as to the rest, if you want 
 the truth, I don't know that it did please me so 
 very much to see you placed in a position which 
 a couple of hundred people had a right to discuss 
 and criticise/' 
 
 " But, Jack dear, I don't understand ; did any 
 one say unkind things ? Why, I think every one 
 I knew in the room came to tell me how charm- 
 ing it was. What did you hear ? "
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW R^LE. 197 
 
 " No one could say anything to me, whatever 
 they thought ; but of course we know that among 
 all those people there must have been some to 
 make remarks we should not have liked to hear, 
 just as I felt at liberty to discuss others ; and 
 don't you see, dear, that that is a liberty I do not 
 wish to give to any one else where my wife is 
 concerned ? " 
 
 " No, Jack, I don't know that I ,do see what 
 harm it does, so long as we do not hear the dis- 
 agreeable things. Oh dear," she sighed, " it is 
 just the old story. I cannot take such high and 
 mighty views of things as you do ; and there you 
 are up in the clouds, and I am having such a 
 lovely time on the earth and want you with me." 
 
 He felt that it was rather hard on her to expect 
 her to be rational just at this moment of tri- 
 umph, and to deny her the happiness of having 
 the praises which were ringing in her ears re- 
 peated by the lips she loved best ; for that he 
 did believe, and he could not resist the wish to 
 make her happy and say all that satisfied even 
 her eager love. But presently she came back to 
 the subject. 
 
 " You did not speak about these objections to 
 my acting when it was first proposed. Before 
 you went away I thought you liked my doing 
 it." 
 
 " Yes, dear, before I went away ; but this is a
 
 198 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 very different sort of play, and if I had been at 
 home I should have said so." 
 
 " Oh, but, Jack," she said hurriedly, " there really 
 was no time to write to you ; they said they could 
 not act without me, and it seemed so disobliging 
 to refuse." Out came all the reasons pell-mell, 
 and not at all in the convincing way in which she 
 meant to have put them. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I know it was a hard position, and 
 I'm not blaming you ; only another time, if there 
 is a doubt, give me the benefit and take my 
 standard instead of Mrs. Harrison's." 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Harrison ! " Madge said, glad to 
 change her ground ; " what a bugbear you make 
 of her, and I think her so charming." 
 
 " I've no doubt you do ; and she is charming in 
 society, but not a good intimate friend for a young 
 inexperienced woman." 
 
 " I wonder if you will ever think I've grown up ; 
 but I am inexperienced, of course, and that is just 
 why it is so pleasant to have her willing to be my 
 friend. I can't tell you how kind she has been to 
 me since we have been so much together lately. 
 Why, if she were a man, Jack, I should think you 
 were jealous of her." 
 
 " Don't joke about such things, Margaret," he 
 said, almost sharply. " Jealousy between us is sim- 
 ply too foolish and disagreeable to speak of. My 
 one objection to Mrs. Harrison is that she is the
 
 MRS. HOWL AND IN A NEW R6LE. 199 
 
 last woman in the world whom I want my wife to 
 be like." 
 
 Madge's cheeks glowed in the dark with vexa- 
 tion ; but what was the use of setting up a dis- 
 pute about this matter in which she was quite 
 determined to have her own way. Too many 
 plans had been made for the coming spring and 
 summer (all to include the theatrical coterie) for 
 her to contemplate the possibility of dropping, 
 or being dropped by, her friend. But then quar- 
 relling was as distasteful to her as any other 
 ugly or displeasing thing, and her husband would 
 be far less likely to think the friendship a dan- 
 gerous one if she did not seem too eager for it. 
 So she dropped the discussion of Mrs. Harrison 
 for the pleasanter subject of her own share of 
 the enjoyments ; and the rest of the drive was 
 taken up with telling all that had passed in her 
 husband's absence: the fun, the little contre- 
 temps, her doubts of success, and the praise of 
 herself which she was proud to tell him, all so 
 prettily and gaily told, that by the time they 
 reached their own door he had, for the time, for- 
 gotten everything but his delight in her, and he 
 lifted her from the carriage with as she whis- 
 pered back to him the crowning compliment 
 of the evening. 
 
 It might have been better for Madge if the 
 course of events had gone straight on, bringing
 
 2OO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the disputed matter of her intimacy to a crisis and 
 to be settled once for all. But the next few weeks 
 turned her life and thoughts in such a different 
 direction that her late excitements subsided into 
 a vague, pleasant memory of something not be- 
 longing to her real self ; and she was so thor- 
 oughly engrossed in anxious love for her sister, 
 such a tender, unselfish, wise little nurse, that her 
 husband quite forgot that there had ever been 
 any clashing of interests between them, except 
 when it sometimes occurred to him as a cause of 
 congratulation how much he had his wife to him- 
 self in these days. For light had come to the 
 darkened eyes they both loved so well, slowly, 
 through days of anxiety, but surely, so that it 
 was no longer a hope, but a certainty, that Rachel 
 would see again when the time came to remove 
 the bandages. 
 
 The happiness of the household seemed to im- 
 part itself to all their circle. As Rachel said, if 
 she had been at home among Hartfield people she 
 could not have had more kindness and sympathy. 
 There it would have expressed itself in pies and 
 cake, which would have been wasted on her. 
 Now her room was kept filled with flowers. Mr. 
 Forrester sent baskets of violets and hyacinths 
 and lilies of the valley, all directed for Mrs. 
 Rowland's sister, not for her, as Madge made her 
 observe.
 
 MRS. ROWLAND IN A NEW ROLE. 201 
 
 When he went away, after the five minute in- 
 terviews of inquiry which he succeeded in ob- 
 taining, he said : " I thought our little friend was 
 fascinating enough when she was listening to me 
 with interest ; but she is irresistible now that she 
 pays me no attention at all, and looks out of those 
 great brown eyes, and wants nothing of me but 
 my sympathy for her sister."
 
 2O2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 
 
 BY the time the last snow-drift had melted 
 from underneath the fences, and the grass was 
 beginning to grow green and soft for the eyes to 
 rest upon, eyes which had known it only in 
 memory for such a weary time, Rachel went 
 back to the dear old home where she was to be- 
 gin the new life, of which every day would be a 
 service of thanksgiving. 
 
 The day of Rachel's departure was- an agitating 
 one for all. The weeks of tender care which 
 Madge had given her sister almost seemed to 
 reverse their usual relations toward each other, 
 and it was hard to believe that Rachel was really 
 able to do without her. Mr. Anderson had come 
 to take Rachel home, but Dr. Rowland said he 
 would at least go a part of the way if it were only 
 to set Madge's heart more at ease in saying good- 
 bye. 
 
 It was late in the evening when he returned, 
 bringing most satisfactory accounts of Rachel 
 half-way home. He found Madge sitting by his
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 2O3 
 
 study fire ; and though her greeting was loving 
 as heart could wish, it was, for her, a very quiet 
 one, so that when he had settled himself in his 
 easy-chair with her by his side, he turned to look 
 at her a little questioningly. He was afraid she 
 was tired, he said. She should have rested, as he 
 had told her. 
 
 " And that is just what I have been doing. 
 Helen Lee came after you had gone, and was the 
 most comfortable companion I could have had. 
 No ; I'm not at all tired, but I have been thinking 
 an unusual exertion for me," she said, with rather 
 a tearful smile, " thinking how grateful I am to 
 you, of what you have done for us all." 
 
 " I hope that you include me, dear, when you 
 say ' us.' Rachel is a dear sister to me ; and I 
 am as thankful as you can be for the blessing of 
 her sight." 
 
 " It seems almost too much," she began ; but 
 the tears would come. Her head was resting 
 against his high chair, and he caressed her ten- 
 derly, and sat stroking the hand she had laid on 
 his, but without speaking, till she went on : 
 
 " It really is almost too much for one foolish 
 little woman to have two such friends as you and 
 Rachel. You must not think I am selfish to 
 be talking about myself to-night. No ; let me 
 speak, Jack. I have been sitting here thinking 
 about mother, and how beautiful Rachel's coming
 
 2O4 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 back to her well and happy would be ; and then I 
 thought of you, and what a home you have made 
 here. And do you know, I think I am the only 
 blot on it all." 
 
 Her husband sat too surprised to speak at 
 once ; but when he began with " my dearest 
 child," scarcely knowing how to treat such an ex- 
 traordinary phase in her* she interrupted him : 
 
 " There's nothing for you to say, Jack, for you 
 know this as well as I do. That is to say, you 
 know it always, and I feel it once in a while. 
 Yes," putting up her hand to stop him, " let 
 me say it all now. I'm not sure that I want 
 you to answer me, but I do want you to know 
 what I feel. Sometimes when I am discour- 
 aged, as I am to-night, it seems to me that no 
 woman could well be less of a companion than I 
 am for such a man as you." 
 
 She drew herself impulsively away, and turning 
 looked at him, with her hands clasped tightly on 
 her lap, as if she were awaiting her sentence. He 
 did not try to bring her back ; he only returned 
 her look with a smile, which seemed to Madge at 
 this moment all that her heart asked, and said : 
 
 " Do you know that you could not say that if 
 you were really afraid of my having any but the 
 one answer to make you ? Why, Margaret, my 
 wife, my blessing, what can any man want more 
 than the one woman in the world whom he loves 
 as I do you ? "
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 2O5 
 
 She moved back to her place, and with a long 
 sigh of relief rested her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Now that we have spoken, I do want to say 
 one or two things, dear, not of blame, my child," 
 for she looked up again with a troubled face, 
 " but of what I think has made our life less 
 smooth than it might have been. Most husbands 
 and wives begin with about an equal knowledge 
 of the world ; but you, dear, had it all to learn, so 
 that my ten years in advance are almost doubled. 
 Why, sometimes I feel as if I were altogether too 
 old for you ; as if I hadn't it in me to give you the 
 sympathy you ought to have in all your pleasure.' 
 
 " Oh, Jack, to imagine my wanting anything 
 more than you give me. But that is so like you, 
 to wish to take the burden on yourself. No, you 
 can't do it ; you must take me for what I am." 
 
 The last weeks had been so delightful that her 
 present mood surprised her husband ; he had 
 been thinking of her as if the only change he 
 could have wished in her had come. Her train 
 of thought followed his, and she answered as if to 
 his unspoken words : 
 
 " We have been very happy lately in spite of 
 the anxiety about Rachel, happier than I have 
 been all winter. I suppose you will think when 
 I say so, that it is a sure sign everything will go 
 right now. But I don't know, or, rather, I do 
 know about myself, and what a trifle it takes to
 
 2O6 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 carry me away. Jack dear," with a heavy sigh, 
 "I think I am very fond of being praised. 
 Now, there's a confession." 
 
 "And it shows such a depth of wisdom," he 
 said, " that I ought to feel quite easy about you. 
 Perhaps you don't care for praise more than 
 other women, but in one way or another you 
 have had a good deal of it in your life, and you 
 don't like the process of finding fault with your- 
 self, is not that it ? " 
 
 She sat looking so thoughtfully into the fire, 
 that he waited for her to speak. At length, 
 " I wonder," she said, " if it was well for me to 
 begin with having your father to pet me and 
 praise me for everything as he used to do. But 
 I did love him, and he was so kind to me 
 always." 
 
 "And I was very grateful to him for it. You 
 are right, dear, it was not the best way to help 
 you to understand yourself in the beginning, 
 where everything was so new ; but we will not go 
 back to that now. He did love you, and you 
 made those last years very different from what 
 they would have been to -him without you. No, 
 don't let us talk about what is over. Here we 
 are together now ; you and I, and the boy ; and 
 it seems to me as if no home should be happier 
 than ours. But one thing I want to say for my- 
 self, Margaret : I am a busy man, with work that
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 2O/ 
 
 engrosses me, perhaps, more than it ought ; but I 
 never mean that it should exclude you. You 
 must tell me if it does ; never 1 imagine for one 
 moment that you are not part of my very life." 
 
 Madge fell asleep that night, feeling as if the 
 battle were over and won. How could she ever 
 want more than the love her husband offered 
 her ; ever be less ready than at this moment to 
 give him all her time and thought. 
 
 Fortune favored Madge in the fact that there 
 was for a while a scattering of her gay friends. 
 Lent had brought a diminution of gayety, and 
 proportionate increase in the delicate throats 
 which required change to Washington and Flor- 
 ida, so that it was as if Madge's life had suddenly 
 turned into an entirely new channel. She had 
 been won back to her old affectionate relations 
 with the Lees by their devotion to Rachel in her 
 recovery ; indeed, they were the only friends of 
 whom she had seen very much of late. She 
 really believed for the moment that she had tired 
 of amusement, and that this new experience of 
 living entirely for her husband, almost for the 
 first time since their marriage, would last for- 
 ever. 
 
 Helen Lee said to her mother next day, " I 
 think Jack's wife is the strangest combination 
 I ever knew. All the winter she has seemed to 
 me just a mere society woman, except when she
 
 2O8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 was alone with Rachel ; then she was always sweet 
 and charming ; but now I feel as if Madge An- 
 derson had come back. What has brought about 
 the change ? " 
 
 "Never mind what has done it," her mother 
 answered ; " encourage the Anderson element as 
 much as you possibly can. The child will come 
 out all right ; her mother's daughter could not be 
 at heart anything but the best This winter 
 would have been a trying test for any one." 
 
 " Yes ; who would have thought of her in old 
 times as being the fashion here in New York." 
 
 " Not so very wonderful. Beauty and money 
 are a very strong partnership. And, then, Madge 
 had always a tact which made her quite ready to 
 fit herself to the people she was with." 
 
 " And I wish it was a different set here, 
 mamma." 
 
 " You can't help that, my dear ; though we will 
 keep her with us as much as we can. You are 
 going out with her this morning, are you not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I don't know what she will say 
 when she knows where I am going to take her. 
 We were going to buy a quantity of calico to 
 make into charity work. She called it a burnt- 
 offering to Jack ; and said she was sure it must 
 be good for her, because she so hated to begin to 
 prick her fingers again. But I find that I must 
 go to the hospital this morning. I wish she
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 2OQ 
 
 would go with me ; but I am afraid she will 
 not. She has never been there, even to please 
 her husband." 
 
 " Well, don't urge her. She is going to be a 
 helpmate to Jack one of these days ; all in good 
 time. What takes you there this morning ? " 
 
 " A message about my poor little Jimmy Burns 
 the child who was run over ; he is not going 
 on so well." 
 
 Madge was ready to go with Helen to the hos- 
 pital, very much interested in the child ; still 
 more in the thought of telling her husband where 
 she had been, when they met at dinner. Helen 
 steered her successfully through the long cor- 
 ridors, meeting none of the horrors which Madge 
 dreaded at every turn, only white-capped and 
 aproned nurses, or a physician at the head of a 
 band of students, all looking eager and alert. 
 Madge said she did not think she should be 
 afraid to come by herself some time. 
 
 " You will always find it as quiet at this hour," 
 Helen said ; " I dare say you will learn to like it. 
 I feel quite at home in this part of the hospital, 
 and there is always something definite to do in the 
 way of help. Your duty is there before your eyes." 
 
 " How dreadful ! " Madge said, laughing ; " and 
 you must either do it, or hate yourself forever 
 after. I'm afraid I am neither good enough nor 
 bad enough to be comfortable, either way."
 
 2IO FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 The child they had come to see was at the end 
 of the ward lined with cots, and Madge lingered 
 on the way with pretty, kind words and a kiss to 
 some of the little creatures who held out their 
 arms, with a call to " the lady " to stop. But 
 when they reached the bed where the white 
 figure lay supported by pillows, Helen wished 
 she had come alone. By the bed sat the mother, 
 a forlorn-looking woman, crumpled up in an old 
 shawl and hood, and with hands wrinkled from 
 the wash-tub, folding and re-folding themselves 
 nervously in her lap. Of tears she seemed to 
 have none left to shed, but her voice sounded as 
 if they were dropping within. 
 
 " Wuss ever so much, they tells me, ma'am," in 
 answer to Helen's whispered question. " I was 
 sent for a while ago. Will it be long, do you 
 think ? There's the others waiting for me to 
 home." 
 
 A very little while now, it seemed to Helen, 
 but as the child looked at Madge, his eyes bright- 
 ened. To her, every little child meant her Phil ; 
 and as she sat down by him, with sweet, motherly 
 face, so full of pity, his hand dropped on the fur 
 of her sleeve too feeble to stroke it, but pleased 
 with its softness, and the glimmer of a smile was 
 reflected on his mother's face. 
 
 " How did it happen to the poor little dear ? " 
 Madge said.
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 211 
 
 " When he was waitin' round the door ; they all 
 has to wait if I'm out a-washin' and it was awful 
 cold, and runnin' to keep warm, I suppose he fell 
 in front of the hosses. I'd just come when they 
 took him up ; maybe it wouldn't have been if I 
 could have come quicker " The lips quivered 
 too much to finish with the possible chance that 
 it might have been helped, that last intolerable 
 touch to all sorrow. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that they must wait in 
 the cold till you come home ? " 
 
 " Yes'm ; some lets 'em stay round the stove, 
 but I'm more afraid of the fire than the streets ; 
 and the coal wouldn't last neither for all day." 
 
 Madge's face flushed. Here was something 
 which might be helped ; but she would not add 
 to the mother's suffering now by telling her of 
 assistance which had come perhaps too late to 
 save this child for her, for him it seemed peace- 
 ful to think that such a life was nearly over. One 
 little arm lay across something hidden by the bed- 
 clothes. 
 
 " What have you cuddled up, dear ? " she said, 
 thinking that he was fondling some toy. 
 
 " It'll last till mammy comes ; doctor said so," 
 fre whispered. 
 
 " What ? " Madge's eyes asked the mother. 
 
 " Oh, ma'am," she said, rocking herself back- 
 ward and forward, " he was the one missed me
 
 212 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the most. He ain't, to say, just like the oth- 
 ers, more delicate like, and he'd a notion 
 that I'd be along to heaven soon after him, and 
 he said, could he only take some supper with him 
 to last till I came." 
 
 She laid her face in the pillow, out of her child's 
 sight. Jimmy stirred a bit of the sheet, and there 
 lay a parcel tied in a handkerchief; close by a 
 battered tin horse." 
 
 " Polly, nex' door, sent the horse," the little fel- 
 low said, with a feeble chuckle. " Doctor give me 
 the ^ankercher, so I could carry it easy. He said 
 it wan't no use, 'cos there's lots of everything 
 there. I wished they was all comin', if there is. 
 Just like the 'scursion party, I s'pose. Everybody'll 
 be kind ; that's heaven, doctor says." 
 
 His voice trailed off into silence, and the head 
 of soft brown curls turned a little to one side. 
 Madge leaned forward to look at the little way- 
 farer's bundle, a cambric handkerchief, and in 
 the corner a monogram, J. H. She looked across 
 to Helen through her tears, and saw her glance 
 up, as if at some one coming, and as Madge turned, 
 her husband's hand was laid on her shoulder. 
 
 " Is he asleep ? " she said. 
 
 " There will be no more suffering now ; " and 
 he led her away in answer to Helen's whisper 
 that she would stay to quiet the poor mother's 
 outburst, which might have its way now.
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 
 
 Dr. Rowland came to Mrs. Lee's that evening, 
 and as he sat down by her, his aunt thought he 
 looked more like the cheery Jack Rowland of a 
 few years ago than she had seen him since his 
 return. 
 
 " I wanted to thank you, Helen, for taking care 
 of Margaret to-day. You do not know how glad 
 I was to see her sitting there with you. I could 
 scarcely believe my eyes as I came down the 
 ward." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you say so," Helen 
 said ; " for I did not know what you would think 
 of my bringing her to such a scene. I had no 
 idea that the child was so ill when I went." 
 
 " It is much better for every one to learn how 
 that dismal other half of the world lives. I knew 
 that Margaret would take kindly to helping if she 
 ever knew how much was needed. I found her 
 and Phil making plans for the most demoralizing 
 charity, and intending to support the Burns fam- 
 ily in luxury all their days. She had told the 
 little chap the whole story, and it was pretty to 
 see him and his mother holding to one another 
 to-night, as if she were going off to work to- 
 morrow at dawn." 
 
 He laughed, but his eyes glistened at the re- 
 membrance. 
 
 " Poverty is such a different matter in the coun- 
 try, that this is all new to her," Helen said ; " it
 
 214 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 is one of the delights of Hartfield not to have the 
 door-bell and your sympathies pulled at every five 
 minutes. I suppose Madge imagines all that Mrs. 
 Burns needs is to have her present worries tided 
 over, and does not think of her as working for 
 the mere privilege of keeping body and soul to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Yes," said her mother ; " but you can prevent 
 Mrs. Burns being cold and hungry, and you 
 can't prevent our poor Mrs. White making her- 
 self unhappy by thinking if her children only 
 had their rights they would be something very 
 high up in the world." 
 
 "Well, my dear little woman does not trouble 
 herself with trying to account for anything. Her 
 present object is to form herself into a society for 
 preventing any more children being run over in 
 the streets. She said just now that she wished 
 it were not necessary to go out of town this sum- 
 mer, she was sure there must be so much to be 
 done here. She will come to-morrow, Helen, and 
 hopes you will be able to go out with her on an 
 expedition to hunt up Mrs. Burns." 
 
 " I have found out about her to-day," Helen 
 said, " and if Madge can help her to get work it 
 is all she will ask." 
 
 " Madge will be much disappointed if there is 
 not a great deal more than that for her to do. I 
 shall leave her to you to advise ; you will tell her
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 
 
 what is best to be done, and I shall be immensely 
 obliged to you if you can show her how to do it. 
 She has so much unoccupied time now that Ra- 
 chel has gone," he said, turning to his aunt. A 
 letter had come from Hartfield, and the Lees were 
 full of interest to hear. 
 
 " Nothing could have gone better than the 
 whole case from beginning to end," he said ; 
 " but for a while it was a tremendous weight to 
 carry. I scarcely know myself without all this 
 care on my mind. I rather wish it were time 
 to go out of town. I would like to get away 
 somewhere and stretch myself. I think I feel 
 like Phil at the end of a rainy day." 
 
 " Well, leave Phil with us ; we will take the 
 best of care of him, and you can go off with 
 Madge for a holiday." 
 
 " You are very good ; but I do not know what 
 she would say to being parted from her boy. 
 Indeed, I doubt if I should enjoy anything so 
 much as home just now, it has been such a busy 
 winter for us all." 
 
 " Where do you go for the summer ? " Mrs. 
 Lee asked. 
 
 " Part of the time at Hartfield, of course. I 
 do not think Margaret has quite decided what 
 she wants to do." 
 
 " Why not divide the summer between us and 
 the farm-house ? We should all be delighted to 
 have you."
 
 2l6 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " And I can imagine nothing pleasanter for us. 
 Don't make the offer unless you really mean it. 
 It would suit both of us to perfection." 
 
 Helen joined heartily in her mother's proposi- 
 tion ; but when Dr. Rowland had gone, she said : 
 " It's very charming to talk about having them 
 with us, but I doubt if it will happen for all that. 
 I have heard Madge making her plans, and they 
 did not mean Hartfield for the whole summer by 
 any means." 
 
 When Dr. Rowland went home, he repeated 
 the invitation to his wife, and she answered 
 warmly, " How delightful and how kind of them 
 to ask us ! We will certainly go after we have 
 done the other things we planned." Dr. How- 
 land looked interrogatively. 
 
 " I mean going to West Point in June. You 
 know I told you of the party who had planned to 
 go all at the same time ; and then I thought that 
 I should like to see Newport for a little while." 
 
 Dr. Howland began with an " I doubt " but 
 thought better of it for that moment ; and 
 Madge bringing out a list of what she thought 
 the most pressing wants of the Burns family, 
 a heterogeneous one, as Phil had helped to 
 make it, and had headed the paper with a contribu- 
 tion of a tortoise-shell kitten two days old, 
 the plans for the summer were quite forgotten in 
 the evening spent together so happily.
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 
 
 The spring was a late one this year. Milliners 
 bewailed the money and imagination spent in de- 
 vising lovely new fashions, when every one was 
 still wearing velvets and furs. Indeed, the 
 weather and influenza were quite sufficient cap- 
 ital in the way of conversation to start any one 
 on a daily round of kettle-drums. Suddenly up 
 went the thermometer, home came the flight of 
 society birds, and a new era of spring clothing 
 and gayety began. 
 
 One morning Helen Lee stood by the window 
 thoughtfully tearing a note into scraps, and in 
 answer to a question from her mother, said : 
 
 " Only a line from Madge, to say that she 
 cannot go with me this afternoon to the opening 
 of the artists' exhibition, if to-morrow will do as 
 well. She is going to see Mrs. Harrison, who 
 has just returned." 
 
 " And will not to-morrow do ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. But I am sorry to hear of Mrs. 
 Harrison back again ; I had almost forgotten her 
 existence. Madge has been so much nicer, and 
 happier too, I think, without her." 
 
 And Madge, sitting in Mrs. Harrison's pretty 
 drawing-room, with agreeable people coming and 
 going, thought on her side that she had forgotten 
 how charming they all were. 
 
 " What a fair-weather friend you are ! " she 
 said to Robert Forrester, as he came to sit by
 
 218 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 her ; " you have been living in summer, while we 
 were freezing and thawing. As soon as the sun 
 shines, you come back." 
 
 " But I come with delightful plans for next 
 year. We must make up a Magnolia party, and go 
 off when the fag end of winter comes here. 
 That is just what one wants in such a place, 
 special people to enjoy it with. There is a trifle 
 too much of the ' niente ' about it, when one is 
 alone. I should have been glad to telegraph 
 north to have a laborious duty or two sent down 
 to perform at my leisure." 
 
 " You should have sent to Mrs. Rowland, 
 then," Mrs. Harrison said, joining them. " I 
 hear of you, my dear, performing all kinds of 
 virtuous acts as soon as you are rid of us." 
 
 Mr. Forrester looked interested, and Madge 
 blushed, not at all prepared to submit her life in 
 these last weeks to the gay comments of the 
 people about her. 
 
 " Mr. Crawford said he met you the other day, 
 down in the by-ways, just going into a court 
 where he knew there was a smell that might have 
 justified a good Samaritan in going over to the 
 other side of the way ; and you and Helen Lee 
 were laden with baskets and bundles." 
 
 Madge felt quite grateful to Mr. Forrester for 
 the kindly way in which he said, " Miss Lee's 
 visiting-list is a varied one, and takes in the
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 
 
 people who need her most, irrespective of disa- 
 greeables." * 
 
 " We were going," Madge said, " to see a little 
 patient for the Children's Hospital." 
 
 " You are the only one, then, of our theatrical 
 set who has done anything but take all the 
 amusement to be had out of the acting, and let 
 the charity take care of itself." 
 
 " I never posed among the ' pieuses,' " Mrs. 
 Harrison said ; and then, changing her tone, as 
 she saw Madge look annoyed, " I am a little 
 cross, because Helen Lee does not put me on 
 her good books under any category. She does 
 not even think I am to*be improved ; but you 
 will not let her make me into a bugbear, will 
 you ? And, by the way, my dear, who do you 
 think I saw in Washington ? our charming 
 Count de Lasteyrie ! He is on the French 
 legation, and says he has had but one thought 
 since we met in Nice two years ago : to see 
 again 'cette charmante Madame Owlan.' And 
 he really looked as if he meant it. I should cer- 
 tainly have believed him if he had said it of me. 
 But he will tell you himself at Newport." 
 
 She walked off laughing, and left Madge 
 with a pretty flush on her cheeks, partly because 
 Robert Forrester was looking at her so ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 " I think I remember that little Count," he
 
 22O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 said, meditatively ;" a man with sentimental 
 eyes, and the part Ih his hair so very straight 
 that it made his nose look crooked." 
 
 " That's a man's optical delusion. I only re- 
 member the beautiful dark eyes. But I should 
 like to have seen him here ; it would have been 
 like a bit of the life abroad." 
 " You will see him when we stop at Washing- 
 ton on our way back from Magnolia next year." 
 
 Madge shook her head. 
 
 "Well, then, at Newport this summer. A 
 Count with sentimental eyes is sure to be a suc- 
 cess there." 
 
 " Yes, but I am not at all sure of being there 
 myself. Newport is a castle in the air for me." 
 
 " Of course you must go. It is the most 
 charming life in America. Mrs. Harrison told 
 me she quite counted upon your being near her 
 this summer." 
 
 And then he described the Newport life, with 
 just a delicate hint of what would await her 
 there. Madge thought again she had forgotten 
 how delightful this atmosphere was ; and surely 
 after her quiet spring spent in doing just what 
 her husband wished, he would not object to her 
 having a few gay weeks before going to Hartfield. 
 Of course she would go home, but it need not be 
 very early ; and as for the visit to the Lees he 
 had proposed, she could persuade him to give that
 
 MADGE ANDERSON AGAIN. 221 
 
 up. Sea air yes ! that would be the thing for 
 them all. 
 
 Madge's letters were most satisfactory ; and 
 Rachel felt sure that the threatening clouds must 
 have passed away. With the certainty of this, she 
 could wait very contentedly till summer should 
 bring them all together at Hartfield, though it 
 was rather a disappointment, when the first hint 
 came that there might be a delay in the home- 
 coming. In June the Rowlands went to West 
 Point, and from there Madge wrote in raptures 
 of the place, the people, the amusements. Rachel 
 wondered a little what became of Phil during 
 these long excursions, and in the afternoons and 
 evenings spent by his mother in amusing herself. 
 Presently, Newport appeared in the distance. 
 Madge wrote that she hoped father and mother 
 would not be disappointed if she did not come to 
 Hartfield quite as soon as she had promised, for 
 she would stay all the later in the autumn ; but 
 she wanted very much to go to Newport, and 
 hoped that Jack would consent. And then let- 
 ters more rapturous still, but very short ; she 
 would tell Rachel everything when she saw her, 
 but there was no time to write, and they should 
 meet soon. Jack was very decided that he could 
 not stay in Newport beyond the middle of August, 
 though it seemed very hard to leave just at the 
 gayest time. But at the beginning of the month 
 came a letter from Dr. Howland.
 
 222 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 
 
 " DEAR RACHEL, I suppose it will make no 
 difference to you at the farm if Margaret and the 
 boy come to you sooner than we had arranged. 
 I do not think she is very strong ; the air here is 
 a little too bracing for her ; and, in fact, I shall 
 be glad to have her leading a more quiet life than 
 here. She is the most popular little lady that I 
 know, and is in such demand for riding parties 
 and picnics and Germans, that there is as little 
 rest for nerves here as in town. I am the more 
 anxious to have her under your mother's wing, 
 that I am going to make a little run abroad for a , 
 few weeks. I shall be back in time to have part 
 of the visit with you, and meantime you will 
 put a little more color into her cheeks. Make 
 her go off on the ox team with your father, and 
 send her to bed early. Do not be hurt if Phil 
 seems to have failed a little in allegiance to the 
 barn-yard, for he and his devoted Susan have 
 been leading the life of old salts here, and are 
 celebrated on the beach for their sailing of shin- 
 gles and the smallest-sized schooners. Phil pro-
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 223 
 
 poses to bring a few crabs and jelly-fishes to 
 domesticate in the duck-pond, and thinks he shall 
 make great changes in the stock of the farm." 
 
 Then came messages and arrangements about 
 the journey up, for he should sail the day after 
 they left ; but within was an enclosure which 
 Rachel read by herself in her own room. It said : 
 
 " I am counting upon you, dear, kind sister to 
 us both, to do much more than make my Mar- 
 garet strong again. Help us to get back the hap- 
 piness which seems to have slipped away, I can 
 scarcely tell you how. I know this : that I never 
 loved her more entirely than at this moment, and 
 I can scarcely believe that she has changed to 
 me ; if I really thought so, there would be very 
 little left for me in this world.' The life here has 
 been good for neither of us. She has lived on 
 excitement for months ; all control, on my part, 
 she thinks severity or want of sympathy ; and I 
 see her restrained in my presence, and thankful 
 when she knows that some occupation of my own 
 will leave her free to enjoy her gay friends. I am 
 sure that our only chance is in being separated 
 for a while, and then perhaps we may start afresh. 
 I have made business abroad an excuse for ab- 
 sence ; and feel so sure that she needs the rest 
 that I would go if only as a pretext for sending 
 her to you. With all her gayety, sometimes I
 
 224 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET.* 
 
 think she is no happier than I, and it is that 
 which is wearing her out. But, Rachel, I look to 
 you. I have seen you when you seemed to know 
 by instinct, by the very turn of her voice, what 
 she was feeling. Tell me now what you see in her 
 face. Does she love me as I know that she did ? 
 or have I lost all my hold upon her in trying to 
 make my influence stronger ? Which of us is in 
 the wrong ? If you can tell me that I have made 
 a mistake, and how to do better for her, I shall 
 be most grateful. Love her better, I cannot ; but 
 I may have been unwise in my love. So I go 
 and leave her in your hands. Do not answer 
 this till I have sailed ; she knows nothing of my 
 writing." 
 
 A year ago the contents of this letter would 
 have been an intolerable sorrow ; for Rachel would 
 have known that she could only grope in her 
 darkness, struggling to find a way for her darling 
 out of the maze in which she had lost herself. 
 But now that she could act, never would she be- 
 lieve that such a complication need go on where 
 those most concerned only wished for what was 
 right. That Madge had ceased to love her hus- 
 band was a simple impossibility, so she told 
 herself. Her first thought was to consult David, 
 but that would be a mistake ; his influence over 
 Madge would be much stronger if he had no
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 225 
 
 thought but of making her happy. No, though 
 it would be a comfort to talk over this, as every- 
 thing else, with him, she believed that all the 
 good which would come of seeking his advice 
 would be better accomplished by leaving her sis- 
 ter to his kind, earnest, simple nature. 
 
 And then she fell to thinking what it was that 
 she was going to find in the face on which her 
 eyes had not rested for five years, not since the 
 autumn day when, in the tender grief of giving 
 up her sister, Rachel so little thought that the 
 expression she saw there then she should never 
 see again except in memory. The especial charm 
 of Madge's loveliness had been in a look which 
 does not often outlast childhood. That perfec- 
 tion of the young creature simply living to be 
 loved and made happy, taking its own beauty and 
 all that it brings with it as a matter of course, 
 must have disappeared. She knew that her sis- 
 ter was still a lovely young woman ; but even 
 with Rachel's want of knowledge of what the 
 world was, she knew that the training necessary 
 to live in it must have destroyed the simplicity of 
 the girl, whose beauty and graceful ways still 
 seemed to pervade the room which they had 
 shared so long together. The birds had begun 
 to chirp outside her window, and when she put 
 out her lamp the gray light was showing before 
 she lay down, as she had done so many times in 
 IS
 
 226 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 these last years, to dream of her darling's, face ; 
 then it was to wake in tears of weary longing, but 
 now with the instant thought how near; how very 
 near was the moment when her heart's desire 
 should be granted. So Rachel decided with her- 
 self that if there must be anxiety, upon her it 
 should fall ; and the house was astir with prepa- 
 rations for Madge's coming, and no thought but 
 of happiness greater than the year before ; for 
 then there was not even hope for Rachel, and 
 now she was her own dear self again, hands and 
 heart and eyes, all for their service. With both 
 their children well and happy, what was there for 
 father and mother to wish for ; to them was not 
 visible " the cloud no bigger than a man's hand." 
 By the time Madge came back to Hartfield the 
 summer had begun to wane, almost impercep- 
 tibly, but with signs as sure as the infinitesimal 
 wrinkles which the beauty sees in her looking- 
 glass, but trusts that the world has not yet found 
 out ; the cricket-orchestra grew louder every night 
 as the singing-birds ceased by day, and at sunset 
 the autumn chill came creeping up from the 
 river. If Madge looked a little more pale and 
 quiet than usual, there was enough to account for 
 it in the journey and the parting from her hus- 
 band ; and then she seemed so affectionate and 
 so glad to be with them, that there could be 
 nothing but happiness in receiving her. Beside
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 22/ 
 
 which Phil brought an atmosphere of commotion 
 with him which allowed no one to be quiet enough 
 to feel anything. He tumbled out of the carryall 
 which brought them from the station, and in- 
 stantly pervaded the place ; seemed to be hug- 
 ging old Nancy in the kitchen and pulling the 
 tails of the little new pigs in the barn-yard at 
 one and the same moment ; and even when he 
 was supposed to have subsided into bed, appeared 
 down-stairs again in his nightgown for a final 
 charge to his grandfather, " to call him bright and 
 early when he waked up 'e cows." 
 
 It had been a great solace to the Andersons in 
 the ever-present missing of their darling, that she 
 should still have her place in the house kept as 
 ready and waiting for her as if this were still her 
 home. Madge's room and Phil's nursery were 
 filled with all their belongings ; next to these, 
 and with a door between, came Rachel's room, 
 and here when she came up-stairs after she had 
 hoped Madge was quietly in bed, she found her 
 sitting in the deep window-seat looking out into 
 the moonlight. 
 
 " Put out the light, Rachie dear, and come and 
 sit with me. I've not had you for a moment yet." 
 
 " What will mother say ? She hopes that you 
 are fast asleep." But the candle was blown out 
 and Rachel came to sit in the window. Madge 
 put out her hand to take her sister's, but did not
 
 228 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 turn her eyes from the scene outside, and for the 
 first few moments they sat, one gazing to the far 
 away hills black against the sky, the other as if 
 she hoped to read the answer to every fear in the 
 face which once had been an open book to her. 
 
 It was a beautiful woman's face, Rachel thought, 
 with a look of their mother which had not been 
 there when she saw it last, with its rounded out- 
 lines of the cheek and ever ready gayety. Now 
 there was a'delicacy in color and feature, and an 
 expression never seen before, except perhaps in 
 some passing childish grief. 
 
 " Rachel," she said presently, " did those hills 
 look natural to you when you came back and 
 could see them ? just as they used to do when we 
 were children and wondered what was on the 
 other side ? " 
 
 "Just as natural as if I had waked up that 
 moment ; and I was so glad that I lived where 
 there was nothing which could change. I could 
 not bear to find even a hencoop in a new place.'' 
 
 " Then I suppose it is because I have been on 
 the other side and found it all so different. Oh, 
 Rachel ! Jack and I have made such a dreadful 
 mistake ! and there's no way out of it ! " 
 
 Rachel's heart fell as it had never done before. 
 It was not one of Madge's outbursts ; but she sat 
 with her head leaning against the side of the win- 
 dow, the tears falling quietly, and such a look of
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 22Q 
 
 silent sorrow on her face that Rachel felt helpless, 
 as if some unknown change had come over the 
 child who had always been like part of herself. 
 
 " This is all wrong, dear. You are too tired to 
 think or do anything but get to bed and let me 
 read you to sleep. To-morrow you will tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 " There's nothing more to tell. I thought I 
 was doing no harm ; but Jack's patience has gone. 
 He said that he went abroad for business ; but I 
 know so well that it was because he was tired out 
 and could not bear it any longer." 
 
 She was sobbing bitterly now, and Rachel was 
 glad to have the unnatural quiet broken up, as 
 she drew her into her arms and made her cry on 
 her shoulder. 
 
 When the burst had spent itself a little she. 
 said, between the snort sobbing breaths, " I can't 
 think, Rachel, why he married me. It seems to 
 me that I am just what I was then, and I know 
 that in the beginning he thought everything I did 
 was right." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but don't you see that what was 
 right and natural in a little country girl, who had 
 never known anything but life on a farm, mayn't 
 be so in a woman who is married to a man who 
 wants her for his best friend and companion ? " 
 
 " I don't want to be his friend," sobbed Madge, 
 with a return of her old self, which reassured
 
 23O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Rachel. " I want him to be in love with me ; I 
 am with him as much as I ever was in my We, 
 though I know he doesn't believe it. He works 
 <it the things he cares for ; and how can he expect 
 that I should not amuse myself? But he objects 
 to every one who makes my life pleasant," 
 then came another burst of crying, and, "Oh, 
 Rachel, I love him so ! and I am so afraid of 
 him ! for I know he does not believe me, and 
 thinks I care more for people whom I should not 
 mind if I never saw again." 
 
 " But, Madge," Rachel urged, " I do not see why 
 it was not a simple matter to tell Mrs. Harrison 
 that your husband wanted you to be more with 
 him, quite as easy as to disappoint him by 
 saying that you preferred her society." 
 
 " I dare say you are right, Rachel ; it seems so 
 easy to be good now that I*am here with you. 
 But then I really did not know till towards the 
 end that he cared so much about it. He is al- 
 ways busy with his writing and reading and hunt- 
 ing up sick people, and he could have come with 
 me if he had liked. I wonder" with a sigh 
 " if Jack had decided that last afternoon that I 
 was too much of a goose for any sensible man to 
 be tied to, and had gone off without speaking, 
 what he would have done ; married some wise 
 creature, I suppose, who would have thought she 
 knew -as much as he did; and how she would 
 have tired him ! "
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 23! 
 
 " There, dear, now I shouldn't spend any unne- 
 cessary wrath on that imaginary lady ; for I can 
 tell you that Jack loves his goose better than he 
 could ever have loved anything else in the world. 
 Now, if you do not want to get me a scolding to- 
 morrow you will come to bed this moment ; there 
 is the clock in the kitchen striking twelve. Why 
 not come in here and sleep with me ? " 
 
 But long after Madge was breathing quietly by 
 her side, Rachel lay thinking over all she had 
 been told, and recurring with especial anxiety to 
 the frequent mention of Mr. Forrester's name. 
 She did not wish to fix it in Madge's mind by talk- 
 ing of him, but she liked his influence even less 
 than Mrs. Harrison's. 
 
 After this first evening Rachel did not renew 
 their conversation. In a day or two, when the 
 fatigue of the move was over, Madge seemed 
 much brighter, and heartily glad to be at home 
 again. Still, she looked delicate, and there was 
 a shade over the brightness. Rachel wondered 
 sometimes why her mother did not feel the dif- 
 ference ; but Dr. Rowland's letter seemed quite 
 sufficient explanation of any lack of spirits, and 
 Mrs. Anderson was really so happy in having 
 Madge to cosset that little room was left for 
 anxiety. She was very fond of her son-in-law, 
 but the home circle was quite perfect without 
 him.
 
 232 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 One afternoon, when good, kind Mrs. Richards 
 had stepped in for a comfortable chat and 
 Rachel's helping hand in a bag of stocking-darn- 
 ing, so large as to suggest the idea that the 
 Richards family must belong to the order of cen- 
 tipedes, she said, " Madge looks a little bit 
 peaked, doesn't she, Rachel ? " 
 
 " I don't think she's very strong ; but Dr. 
 Rowland wrote us word that she needed a little 
 Hartfield air, and I think she looks better already. 
 But don't say anything to mother, if you think 
 she looks poorly." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I only thought that perhaps it was 
 because I was not used to her pretty, genteel 
 look. I always thought she was a picture, you 
 know ; but some way now I feel as if she was 
 somebody I was reading about in a story-book. 
 I suppose Madge knows herself just as well in 
 New York as she does here. But didn't it seem 
 queer to you to see the child ordering round her 
 house just as if she had been born to it ? There, 
 bless you, you dear soul," giving her a pat with 
 a hand imbedded in one of the deacon's vast blue 
 socks, " you always did seem to feel everything 
 that was going on, even when you could not see 
 us." 
 
 " I did really mind my blindness in New York 
 more than anywhere else," Rachel said. " Here 
 I can account for every sound, even the opening
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 233 
 
 and shutting of each door. But there the house, 
 and Madge as the owner of it, were puzzles to 
 me. You know there were four years when 
 Madge dropped out of our lives and was learning 
 all about her new one, so that there is nothing 
 strange about it to her, as there is to us." 
 
 " Well, it hasn't hurt her a bit," said Mrs. Rich- 
 ards ; " for I heard something about her the other 
 day that just pleased me. You know my sister 
 Pingree's son 's got a situation down in New York 
 a first-rate one it is, too in one of the big 
 stores. But they tell me that there's more differ- 
 ence between the people who buy and those that 
 sell, down there, than there is here. Well, one 
 day last winter, when he was standing behind his 
 counter, in comes Madge, looking just as pretty as 
 a pink. Sam always was soft on her, and he was 
 so pleased to see her that he just put his hand 
 out and said, ' Why, how do you do ? ' And he 
 said that when he thought afterward how near 
 he came to calling her Madge, he felt as if he'd 
 had the greatest escape he ever had in his life. 
 Soon 's he'd done it he knew he'd better not, 
 for she couldn't help looking surprised, and she 
 had a lady friend with her, and was all dressed 
 up. But it was only a minute, and then she was 
 just as friendly, and asked after his ma, and me 
 and all the folks, and seemed real interested. 
 Sam thought ever so much of it, because the
 
 234 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 other clerks were so astonished, and said she 
 and the other lady too were among the very first 
 people." 
 
 Rachel, in her heart, felt very thankful that 
 Madge had been equal to the occasion, for she 
 knew very well how she must have winced when 
 good Sam Pingree's hand came over the counter, 
 especially with any one by to see and smile ; but 
 her mother, who had come in, said : 
 
 " I don't know why you should give her so 
 much credit. I'm sure I hope she was very glad 
 to see an old friend ; she ought to have been." 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; it isn't so very easy to 
 feel just right when we'd ought to, that we need 
 begrudge her the credit becaus'e she'd only done 
 her duty. I'm free to say duty's most too much 
 for me sometimes. There she is now, and that 
 duck of a Phil with her. I can't hold her in my 
 lap nowadays, Philly ; so do you climb right up 
 into her place, and I shall feel as if I'd got her 
 back again." 
 
 Phil found his intimate acquaintance so widely 
 claimed in Hartfield that he felt that he must 
 draw the line, and did so sometimes, much to his 
 mother's embarrassment ; but his affection for 
 Mrs. Richards was based upon too firm a founda- 
 tion of gingerbread to be disturbed, so he came 
 into her lap while she darned and chatted, and 
 cuddled him, all at once.
 
 ft 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 235 
 
 " I have been to see Lizzie Stedman, mother," 
 Madge said, " and I never saw a girl so changed. 
 I should scarcely have known her." 
 
 " She's had rather a hard time of it," her mother 
 said, "with babies, and sickness, and not much 
 money. But how pleased she must have been to 
 see you ! " 
 
 " I suppose she was," Madge answered, rather 
 doubtfully ; " but it made me tired to see her with 
 those children dragging on her, and all her pret- 
 tiness gone. What a life it is ! " 
 
 " A good deal of a contrast to yours, Maggie 
 dear," her mother said, with the contrast in her 
 mind stronger still between her daughter's loveli- 
 ness and the worn minister's wife, whom she 
 recollected as bright and pretty as her own child. 
 
 " Money 's not all that's wanting in that house," 
 Mrs. Richards said, nodding her head ; " if Lizzie 
 and her husband pulled fair and square together, 
 I don't think it's so great of a load after all." 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! you don't think she's happy ? 
 and he was so in love with her ! Rachel, don't 
 you recollect the day he married us, and they had 
 j ust come back from their wedding journey ? You 
 said afterwards that he looked at her all the time 
 as if he were reading his own marriage service. 
 Oh, why will things change so ? " 
 
 She turned away quickly to hide the tears 
 which came suddenly to her eyes. Rachel hoped
 
 236 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 that Mrs. Richards had not detected them ; but 
 whether she did or not, she only said : 
 
 " I don't think Lizzie 's very happy, but it isn't 
 because she does not love her husband. She's as 
 fond of him and proud of him as she can be; and 
 so 's he of her ; but she's one of the kind that 
 wouldn't mind having a fire or a shipwreck come 
 along once in a while, so as to have something 
 stirring going on, and have her husband say he's 
 ready to die for her. Lots of girls are just like 
 that, after they're married ; but that's not the way 
 it takes a man. He's sat on the anxious-seats 
 whilst he was courting, and he don't calculate to 
 do it more than once in his life. It's natural it 
 should be so ; but sbme women don't like to have 
 it all stop, and settle down to making the best of 
 things together." 
 
 " I don't know why any one should expect 
 women to like it," Madge said ; " it's the court- 
 ing that makes us care for them ; and why should 
 men think that we shall go on liking them with- 
 out it, just because we must ? " 
 
 Rachel saw her mother looking at Madge with 
 rather an uneasy, puzzled look. 
 
 " You don't mean what you say, I think, dear," 
 Mrs. Anderson said. " If it was the courting did 
 it all, there would be more mistakes in marriages 
 than there are now. When a good honest man 
 like John Stedman tells a girl he'd rather spend
 
 THE SISTERS MEET AT LAST. 237 
 
 his life with her than with any other woman in 
 the world, he 's said it once and for all, and he 
 expects her to believe it." 
 
 " I dare say Lizzie does believe it, but she cer- 
 tainly looked a great deal happier in the days 
 when she was not sure of him. As for you, 
 mammie dear, why, you don't know anything 
 about the ways of husbands in general. I've 
 seen a deal of courting going on through the 
 dairy-window, when father had odd moments to 
 spare as he came by." 
 
 They all laughed to see the pretty blush which 
 almost made Mrs. Anderson's face look young, 
 and brought out the resemblance between the 
 two, as Madge laid her cheek caressingly against 
 her mother's. 
 
 " There it is, Madge," Mrs. Richards said ; " it 
 rests with the wife just as much as the husband 
 to keep the fire burning. I'll tell you what I 
 think is a pretty good plan if a body gets a little 
 low sometimes : sit down and take account of 
 stock, and you'll be surprised to see how your 
 goods mount up. Lizzie's trouble is that she 
 sets a heap by her husband and children, and if 
 they're sick, it's really hard work to get her to let 
 you help nurse them ; but when they're well, she's 
 a great deal more apt to count up the things that 
 she hasn't got than what she has. I dare say one 
 thing that made her seem so dull this afternoon,
 
 238 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 was because she was thinking what an easy life 
 you have ; just as if that made hers any harder ! " 
 
 Madge owned that her old friend had talked 
 about the contrast in their lives, till she had felt 
 as if she could scarcely bear to tell all that Lizzie 
 wanted to hear, her own seemed such a luxuri- 
 ous existence. 
 
 Mrs. Richards said : 
 
 " Well, Lizzie 's one of those people that's got 
 to get at things by a road of their own making. 
 She's a good woman, and after all it's her own 
 happiness she wastes, for her husband doesn't see 
 any faults in her." 
 
 Madge sighed and thought or supposed she 
 thought how gladly she would change her life 
 for that of a hard-worked minister's wife, if her 
 husband would only say that of her ! 
 
 Rachel said nothing to Madge of the enclosure 
 in Dr. Rowland's letter, but the first mail after 
 his departure carried two letters from Hartfield. 
 One, with her assurances that all was working for 
 good ; the other, Madge's characteristic outpour- 
 ing of love and regrets and reproaches, and long- 
 ings for him to be at home again.
 
 OUTREMER. 
 
 239 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OUTREMER. 
 
 THE voyage had given Dr. Rowland time to 
 decide many things by himself, but nothing more 
 clearly than the duty he owed his wife as the guar- 
 dian of her inexperience. Looking back to the 
 early days of his love, he felt that he had thought 
 of her only as the woman he longed to call his 
 wife, and whose loveliness was his ideal. How 
 this girl, with her beauty, wilfulness, and sweetness 
 combined, was to be formed into a woman who 
 should help in the life which he was already plan- 
 ning for himself, he had never considered. While 
 he was sitting in his sea-chair, wrapped in his 
 ulster, his hat pulled over his eyes, and his fellow- 
 voyagers wishing he could be exchanged for some 
 less dismal and speechless companion, he had 
 travelled far in his thoughts through the different 
 winters and summers of their years at home and 
 abroad ; and the result of it all was this : As she 
 was even at this moment, the world held no other 
 woman for him ! none lovelier ! Many wiser there 
 might be, but not one who could so fill his heart
 
 240 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. ' 
 
 with joy at the thought that she was his ! If he 
 had never planned before his marriage how she 
 was to be exalted into an ideal woman, he began 
 now, and by the time he reached Liverpool his 
 chief thought was how he could shorten the busi- 
 ness which had been his excuse for coming, and 
 return before she expected him. If Madge's let- 
 ter had come before he had argued himself into 
 feeling that with him rested the charge of bring- 
 ing her to be all he wished, he might possibly 
 have felt a shade of his old discouragement, in 
 spite of her loving words. Now he only thought 
 of his own severity, and longed to banish the im- 
 pression of it from her mind. 
 
 The first letter which arrived at Hartfield was 
 received with unmingled delight. No, not quite 
 that ; for Madge felt rather oppressed by this new 
 tone of confidence in her, with which poor Jack 
 had taken such pains to imbue his letter. 
 
 "Do you know, Rachel," she said, "Jack is the 
 dearest fellow that ever lived ; but I declare I do 
 not always understand him. Before he went away, 
 he had worked himself up into such a state, be- 
 cause I did not want to sit at home with him and 
 look over plans for hospitals, that you would have 
 thought to play lawn-tennis was a most dissipated 
 amusement ; and tea, afterwards, quite an im- 
 proper thing to talk about. And now, just see 
 this ! No, you must not look at the rest, because
 
 OUTREMER. 24! 
 
 he's too foolish. But here why, you would think 
 I had drawn the plans for his pet hospital all my- 
 self, he seems so pleased with me ! I don't feel 
 as if I were any wiser than I was when he went 
 away ; I only hope I shall not disappoint him." 
 
 Madge's spirits went up in one great bound. 
 Jack loved her ; had forgiven her; had forgotten ! 
 It was to be as if nothing had ever happened. The 
 sequence was perfectly natural in her mind ; and 
 Rachel looked on, half glad to see her happy 
 again, half regretful that she could so soon forget 
 the pain and its lesson. It was the old story: 
 Madge only recognized a fault by its unpleasant 
 consequences. 
 
 For very different reasons, Dr. Rowland's spir- 
 its had undergone nearly as great a change for 
 the better, as had his wife's. He was happier for 
 having convinced himself that he had been in the 
 wrong ; and now that her repentant letter had 
 come, he was ready to think that all he had 
 hoped from their separation was accomplished, 
 and longed to sail in the next steamer. But 
 though he might have finished the business he 
 came for by letter, he would not be weak, and 
 tlfe time he had intended to stay should be use- 
 fully filled up. So a busy, cheerful fortnight was 
 spent in England, and then he must go over for 
 another week or two 'on the Continent ; nothing 
 loth, for he had on his mind a long list of pur-
 
 242 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 chases to be made for Madge's pleasure. It was 
 now September. Figaro described Paris as a 
 howling wilderness ; no orre left in it but shop- 
 keepers and strangers, kindly created by Provi- 
 dence to be their prey. To him it was the 
 gayest of bazaars by day, and an enchanted gar- 
 den by night. Jack blessed his good luck that 
 he came across none of his compatriots in the 
 first flush of sight-seeing, ready to seize upon 
 him as escort in accomplishing what the guide- 
 book calls, " a hurried, but feasible tour of the 
 city in a day." He passed mornings in hunting 
 up various things which he remembered hearing 
 Madge say that she rather regretted not having 
 brought home with her, and did not even be- 
 grudge the time spent in deciding at Felix's on 
 the dresses and hats in which she was to look 
 her loveliest, as she praised his taste. Made- 
 moiselle, who tried them all on to show the effect, 
 thought at first that he was admiring the result 
 in her ; but soon found, with her French tact, 
 that a little judicious recollection on her part of 
 Madame's grace and beauty, would add many 
 finishing touches to the bill. 
 
 But a few days were left now before his retirrn 
 to England, when, one evening, as he came into 
 the courtyard of his hotel, he found his way 
 blocked by a fresh arrival of trunks ; and while 
 waiting to pass, heard himself enthusiastically
 
 OUTREMER. 243 
 
 greeted by one of the ladies who had just alighted 
 from the cab, and was counting her treasures. 
 
 " Dr. Rowland ! now this is most delightful to 
 see a friend from home, and just at this moment 
 too when we are in such a strait. Two forlorn 
 women are so at the mercy of these horrible 
 people." 
 
 Jack raised his hat, endeavoring to make it 
 mean that, though a man and a brother, he did 
 not intend to be taken possession of by Mrs. 
 Morris and her daughter. But out poured a long 
 tale of grievances. They had been victimized in 
 every possible way from Liverpool to Paris. Mrs. 
 Morris even seemed to think that the landlord of 
 her-London hotel was in league with the railway 
 officials that one of her trunks should be missing 
 on their arrival here. He could not but listen, 
 and offer to make some inquiries at the Gare du 
 Nord the next day ; but he walked away, wonder- 
 ing if there were people whom he should have had 
 less pleasure in seeing than the Morrises. The 
 mother, a woman whose chief ambition in life had 
 been to make veneer pass for solid mahogany ; 
 and Alicia well, poor girl, she had not always 
 been the disappointed woman she seemed now ! 
 He remembered her years ago, when she came 
 abroad, pretty and attractive ; and even then he 
 had pitied her for being dangled as a bait before 
 the eyes of every possible husband. If the pur-
 
 244 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 suit had continued ever since, no wonder that 
 temper and tongue had been worn sharp. It was 
 not so very much to do to hunt up a trunk, 
 which, by the way, after being telegraphed for 
 far and wide, suddenly appeared in a corner at 
 the station in Paris, where it would seem to have 
 been put for no other purpose but to attract 
 the attention of every official who came near it ; 
 but what he did mind was being obliged to 
 come and go quite so frequently in Mrs. Mor- 
 ris's behalf, whose gratitude even had an irritat- 
 ing quality, sorely trying to his politeness. How- 
 ever, it was only for a day or two, and his heart 
 rather softened towards Alicia, who seemed to be 
 ill or unhappy, and glad to treat him in a friendly 
 way ; a way which suited her much better than 
 her usual lively society manner. 
 
 On the evening of his last day in Paris, he went 
 to say good-bye, au second, Hotel Wagram, and 
 was glad to find Alicia sitting alone by one of the 
 long windows thrown wide open. There was a 
 dim lamp on a distant table, and as he came 
 quietly into the room, he thought her attitude a 
 sad one, her head resting against the side of the 
 window, and hands clasped upon her knee ; he 
 even fancied there were tears in her voice as she 
 came to greet -him. Her mother had taken her 
 maid, she said, and driven out to Neuilly to see a 
 friend ; and so they sat down together near the
 
 OUTREMER. 245 
 
 window, neither saying much, except a word or 
 two of the loveliness of the evening, and the scene 
 outside for the moon streamed in at the win- 
 dow ; the Rue de Rivoli and the gardens were 
 astir with life, and above the hum of people 
 came the sound of the band playing. 
 
 " You go to-morrow early ? " she said, presently. 
 
 " Yes ; I shall dine in London to-morrow night; 
 and in another fortnight I shall be leaving Eng- 
 land. You will be at Bellagio by that time ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I half wish we were going the other 
 way, as you are." 
 
 " You will not feel so when you are once out of 
 Paris. The weather has been very uncomforta- 
 ble for this last week ; even I have felt headachy 
 and*- oppressed, and I've thought you were not 
 looking very well. I have had half a mind to 
 prescribe for you." 
 
 "Please prescribe to mamma to leave her shop- 
 ping till cold weather, and let us go, I don't care 
 where perhaps it will be as dull anywhere 
 else." 
 
 Jack rather wanted to ask why they had come 
 so far, when they might have had quite as dull a 
 time at home for less money ; but it was not his 
 affair, and as Miss Morris seemed in a silent 
 mood, they both sat looking out and listening to 
 the music. It was a Strauss waltz, and with no 
 one to dance to it, there was nothing to relieve
 
 246 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 the pathetic rhythm, which was the undertone 
 accompanying the brilliant clash of the orches- 
 tra. 
 
 He was thinking of his wife, and how lovely he 
 had seen her look, dancing and radiant with ex- 
 citement. It was not quite a happy thought, for 
 it brought up some of the jarring elements in their 
 two lives, when Miss Morris spoke : 
 
 " I wonder why waltzes should always make 
 one feel rather sad ? They have gay enough 
 associations." 
 
 " I suppose it is the dramatic effect the writer 
 intends. The ball-room itself is always full of it, 
 if you stand by and look on, watching the differ- 
 ent little scenes." 
 
 "Rather serious ones sometimes, judging, by 
 the results ! Ah, well ! Dr. Rowland, after all, 
 own up that life is rather a dismal matter for most 
 people, between the things they want and never 
 reach, and the things that are not worth having 
 even when they've had their wish ! " 
 
 Jack answered cheerfully, " that really he did 
 not think it was such a bad business as that ; and 
 for his part, some of th*e things he had tried the 
 hardest to get, had been uncommonly well worth 
 having." 
 
 " You may be one of the fortunate ones," she 
 said, " and I hope your philosophy will hold good 
 if anything ever does go wrong with you."
 
 OUTREMER. 247 
 
 " Oh," he interrupted, " don't think I am so 
 audacious as to expect to have it my own wav 
 always ; but perhaps I have seen more of the hard 
 part of other people's lives, and know more of what 
 deserves to be called unhappiness, than you do." 
 
 " I call it unhappiness when I am forced to do 
 exactly what I most dislike : to come out here, 
 for instance, and travel about, so that mamma 
 may make acquaintance with people who do not 
 care a straw for us, when all I have any interest 
 in are at home, and to have younger women take 
 my place in everything, merely to please their 
 vanity." 
 
 She spoke with such vehemence, almost pas- 
 sion, that he sat aghast, feeling hopeless of saying 
 anything to soothe her, and yet vaguely uncom- 
 fortable lest there should be a meaning in it 
 pointed at him. She evidently tried to control 
 herself, and did not speak again till she could 
 steady her voice. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Dr. Rowland, but I feel 
 so homesick and depressed to-night that I can- 
 not keep it to myself. Mrs. Harrison promised 
 me, when we sailed in July, that she would follow 
 me out here in a month ; Robert Forrester and 
 his sister were coming, and we should have had 
 such a delightful party, instead of this dreary 
 roaming about with mamma. Now this morning 
 I have a letter from Gertrude, saying that they
 
 248 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 are not coming, but were all enjoying themselves 
 at Newport together. I suppose you know all 
 about it, as your wife was of the party." 
 
 " No," Jack said, " his letters had not come ; 
 he should find them in London, with the latest 
 news." 
 
 He hoped that the light was not bright enough 
 to show his face, if he looked as surprised as he 
 felt ; and though he tried to say something of 
 their all enjoying themselves, it stuck in his 
 throat. 
 
 "Ah, well, you will hear in good time, if" 
 with rather a disagreeable laugh " Mrs. 
 Rowland tells you all her gay doings. I fancy 
 girls always keep back a few of their adventures. 
 Excuse me for speaking of her as a girl, but she 
 always seems so young and inexperienced, don't 
 you know ? " 
 
 " That is a difficulty to be cured with time, 
 Miss Morris," he said, rising ; and added, with a 
 desire to leave her no ground for comment," 
 " Newport will be delightful just now." 
 
 "Very, and a charming party to enjoy it with. 
 I always say that you two are a most comfortable 
 couple, each going your 'own way so easily. It 
 is so nice in you to like to have your wife amuse 
 herself while you are away. It's rather a gay set, 
 you know. I should not think Robert Forrester 
 was the safest possible companion for a young 
 woman."
 
 OUTREMER. 249 
 
 " The care of my wife may be intrusted to 
 me, Miss Morris. Mr. Forrester is a gentleman, 
 and my friend ; and I should be very unwilling to 
 admit that he was an unsafe friend for any wo- 
 man. I had supposed you knew him better." 
 
 Sting for sting! But he could not help it. 
 He had risen and offered her his hand. No 
 other words were possible now between them 
 except a parting message to Mrs. Morris ; and he 
 left her. 
 
 As Jack walked back to his hotel he felt as if 
 he had again shouldered the burden which he 
 thought to have thrown aside. Not that he was 
 angry with Madge; no, dear little woman, she 
 was honest in her assurances, when she wrote 
 them, that she should have no pleasure till his 
 return. Then had come this offer of entertain- 
 ment always irresistible to her. To be sure she 
 should have told him ; but perhaps she had not 
 gone. That jealous woman was capable even of 
 a falsehood. 
 
 ^ But it was all a wretched affair for himself and 
 for Madge, and must be stopped then and there 
 if he had power to do it. There was a half-writ- 
 ten letter in his portfolio, which had better be 
 finished and posted to-night ; for he might feel 
 too tired with his journey to do it to-morrow in 
 London ; though it seemed as if he could never 
 feel more tired than in this sultry atmosphere,
 
 25O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 with his head aching and throbbing he could 
 scarcely tell if with fever, or the intolerable an- 
 noyance of this new idea that his wife's name was 
 being discussed. He had only thought of it as 
 resting between himself and her ; now he must 
 be firm for her own sake. He would try not to 
 be harsh. 
 
 He wrote as follows : " A report came to-day 
 of a party planned for Newport, of which you 
 were to be one. I should have been glad to 
 have heard of it first from you, but perhaps I 
 shall find letters in London with good reasons 
 for your going. However, you will be at home 
 again by the time this reaches you, and I hope 
 none the worse for your gayety. But, my dear- 
 est Margaret, I have something to say to you 
 which I would rather write now than have on my 
 mind to speak when I have the happiness of 
 being with you again. I cannot begin with re- 
 proof, but am very anxious that you should know 
 that my feeling is even stronger than when I 
 left you, concerning your intimacy with Mrs. Har- 
 rison's gay set. I cannot bear to feel that my 
 wife is spoken of as a woman who is willing to 
 receive from others the admiration which her 
 husband only has the right to offer her. My child, 
 you do not know what perfection you represent 
 to me ! I am as much your lover as I was the 
 day I married you ; only let me be your friend as
 
 OUTREMER. 251 
 
 well, and believe me that you can have none 
 other as safe as vour most devoted husband. 
 J. H." 
 
 It was a relief to him when the letter was out 
 of his hands, and on its way to her ; it seemed, 
 at least, as if he had put out a protecting hand, 
 though he would not believe that she needed it. 
 The next day he too had started with a feverish 
 restlessness upon him which made every moment 
 seem intolerable when he was not speeding on 
 towards Margaret towards the home which 
 he was reproaching himself for having left. If 
 the letter were to be of any service, it was well 
 that it was on its way ; for weary brain and hand 
 could never have accomplished the writing of it 
 by the time Jack reached London, where the 
 night was spent in one long nightmare of imag- 
 ining himself half a dozen different people, all 
 struggling to rescue Madge from some terrible 
 indefinite trouble. 
 
 At Hartfield, life ran on for a while as smoothly 
 as if no foreign element had ever been intro- 
 duced into it, and little Phil himself had no more 
 contented enjoyment of each day as it came than 
 his mother seemed to have. To Rachel it was 
 an interlude of such happiness as she had never 
 dared to think of in her blindness, lest it should 
 make her misfortune seem too intolerable. The 
 first jar was the arrival of a letter from Mrs.
 
 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Harrison. Various things, she said, had occurred 
 to prevent the autumn trip abroad; but she should 
 stay at Newport, and had invited a large party to 
 fill the house. Then came a list of names, which 
 included all whom Madge considered most de- 
 lightful, and her husband most objectionable, in 
 their circle of acquaintance. The season of 
 gayety was over, but they should have within 
 themselves the materials for every kind of enjoy- 
 ment, theatricals, music, outdoor and indoor 
 life. Everything was arranged, and she must 
 come, for a fortnight at least. No denial possible. 
 Day, hour, and place of meeting given. 
 
 The letter came one morning when she was out 
 in the lovely sunshine with Phil, enjoying it as 
 only autumn sunshine can be enjoyed, when one 
 says, " Still one more enchanting day so like the 
 June that seems such a long way back." Down 
 upon her knees in the grass, quite engrossed with 
 the household arrangements of a hen with a late 
 brood of chickens, who, not unlike some mothers 
 with more pretensions to intellect, was quite 
 unable to manage her own family and equally 
 indignant with any one who attempted to assist 
 her. Phil was in high glee, rescuing the stray 
 chicks from the neighboring forests of clover 
 where they had lost themselves, when amidst the 
 cackle and chirp came a sho"ut from the house- 
 yard where grandpa was holding up a letter, and
 
 OUTREMER. 253 
 
 Phil was off like a shot in hopes of seeing the 
 foreign post-mark which he knew so well. He 
 came back disgusted. " Hodid old letter ; guess 
 I frow it in 'e pond," he grumbled. But Madge 
 took it and sent him back to his play, while she 
 went off to read her letter in the shade. Hen 
 and chickens, Phil and Hartfield, faded out of 
 sight. What a different life it told of! And the 
 longing for it all came back ; for here would be all 
 the excitement of the last winter, and with no one 
 to say a reproving ' no ' to anything. She started 
 up to find Rachel, who must be asked first, and 
 with that came a slight qualm as to the possible 
 answer. But no ; nothing should interfere ; and 
 as to asking her sister, there was no necessity for 
 that. She should only tell Rachel that the invi- 
 tation had come, and consult with her about her 
 arrangements ; certainly not ask her advice 
 that would only suggest an objection. 
 
 Rachel was found in the pleasant retreat which 
 Phil had christened " Gamma's goody-room," 
 where she was tying up and labelling glass jars 
 filled with every shade of tempting crimson and 
 gold-colored preserves. Even Madge could not 
 help being struck by the contrast in their present 
 ways as she came in, full of excitement about a 
 life of which Rachel knew nothing, and finding 
 her busily occupied in work which they had so 
 often shared together in the days when every-
 
 254 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 thing was held in common between them. She 
 came in looking so radiant that Rachel, seeing 
 the letter in her hand, thought that Jack must 
 have written to announce his speedy return. 
 
 " Well, what is it, dear ? " she said ; " you look 
 as if you had some good news." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! the most delightful invitation. 
 Listen, Rachel. And then I want to consult you 
 just how to arrange matters for my going/' So 
 she read, and Rachel listened ; and when it 
 appeared what was the plan, she found it very 
 difficult to fix her attention, so engrossed was she 
 in thinking how she was to put her objections 
 forcibly enough to Madge, for she foresaw rebel- 
 lion. The letter ended, there was a pause. 
 Rachel bent over her work, apparently too oc- 
 cupied with designing an effective Q in the 
 "quince" that she was marking to speak at once, 
 and Madge said, a little impatiently : 
 
 " There, Rachel, do let the preserves go for a 
 minute and attend to me, for I want to know 
 about the trains, and I must answer this letter to 
 go by the afternoon mail." 
 
 " You have decided to go, then ? " Rachel said, 
 trying to put a warning tone of disapproval into 
 her voice, but avoiding looking at Madge. She 
 would be firm, but she felt a most arrant coward. 
 
 " I decided, as soon as I read the letter, that it 
 was the most delightful plan I ever heard of.
 
 OUTREMER. 255 
 
 Everything is as easy as possible. Phil will 
 stay here, and I shall be back again before there 
 is any chance of Jack's arriving." 
 
 " How do you think Jack would like it ? " 
 
 " Not at all, if he was in the same mood that 
 he went away in ; but you see how he has 
 changed, and how good-natured and reasonable 
 he has grown. He could not want to prevent me 
 from enjoying myself while he is away." > 
 
 " Yes ; but, Madge, it depends upon who you 
 enjoy yourself with ; and I thought these were 
 the people he did not fancy for your friends." 
 
 " Oh, that was only Jack's way of wanting me 
 all to himself. Now, Rachie dear, don't look dis- 
 approving, for you know I'm going, and you 
 must not find any fault." 
 
 " I'm not finding any fault. I only want you 
 to think about it wisely ; and if you think / 
 don't know, why not go and ask Helen Lee's 
 advice ? " 
 
 " Good gracious, Rachel ! What's the good of 
 asking advice from a person who does not want 
 to do the thing herself?" 
 
 " At least she would be a good judge whether 
 you had better go or not." 
 
 " I don't want her to judge about me at all. If 
 I were going to give it up 1 should do it for you ; 
 but I think I might be trusted for myself." She 
 walked off to the window and stood listlessly pull-
 
 256 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 ing leaves from the vine outside, Rachel watching 
 anxiously, and wondering which string would be 
 the wisest to pull first. 
 
 "It would really be a worry to me about your 
 health if you were to go," she said presently. 
 " You have been growing stronger and better 
 every day since you came home, and I do so want 
 to have you look- like your old self when Jack 
 comes back." 
 
 " There was nothing the matter with me, 
 Rachel. It was only the heat ; and I was tired 
 after the winter, I suppose ; and then everything 
 went wrong the last part of the time." 
 
 Rachel left her work, and going to stand by 
 Madge at the window, said: "Just remember 
 that first night, dear, after you came, and how 
 thankful you would have been to be at peace with 
 your husband. Now you understand each other, 
 and is this visit is anything worth the risk 
 of hurting his feelings ? " Silence was such a 
 hopeful sign with Madge that Rachel ventured to 
 say : " My advice is worth less than Helen's, as 
 far as my imagining what would induce me to go 
 to Newport, but I know you, dear ; you never 
 would enjoy yourself after you were there, with 
 the thought of having to explain it all to Jack." 
 
 Another shower of the bright red autumn 
 leaves came from Madge's fingers before she 
 said : " Of course I am not going to Newport
 
 OUTREMER. 
 
 entirely against your judgment ; but it is a horrid 
 disappointment. I wish Jack would " She did 
 not finish her wish or return her sister's kiss ; but 
 Rachel knew that the letter which went to the 
 post that afternoon would not be one of accept- 
 ance. 
 
 Often in autumn the weather goes on with an 
 uninterrupted flow of sunshine till one day there 
 comes a chill. It does not last, and the sunlight 
 breaks out again ; but we say the summer is over, 
 and now we must expect rain and clouds and fogs. 
 So with Madge. The failure of the Newport 
 plan seemed to have put an end to her cheery 
 enjoyment of the country life. Her mother wor- 
 ried over her want of spirits and appetite ; but 
 only Rachel knew that the change had come with 
 the return of her longing for excitement, and that 
 the days when she was too tired to walk, too rest- 
 less to sit still, and fretful even with her little 
 Phil, were those when there came a letter from 
 Mrs. Harrison telling of their gay doings, and 
 urging her to change her mind. One thing 
 cheered Rachel : to see that Madge had strength 
 enough to resist the urgings. To be sure it was 
 under most watchful care, and Rachel was ready 
 at all times to listen and sympathize and repeat, 
 " Think how disappointed Jack would have been 
 if you had gone, and how he will appreciate what 
 you gave up for him." 
 17
 
 258 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 
 
 WITH one person Rachel felt as if she were 
 sharing her anxieties, though without the comfort 
 of words spoken. David, though frequently ab- 
 sent, still called the farm his home, and when 
 there he and Madge were very constant compan- 
 ions, going off on walks and drives, drawn still 
 more together by his care and fondness for her 
 boy. 
 
 Madge used to laugh at him for being made a 
 slave twice in his life ; but Rachel, with the key 
 to his heart which he had given her, saw how he 
 rejoiced in the outlet of tenderness he might 
 show to the child of the woman he had loved in 
 the past and cherished now with as much care as 
 if she had belonged to him. It was not in 
 Madge, her sister knew, to be on such intimate 
 terms as she was with David without showing 
 somewhat of her doubts and worries, and Rachel 
 often wondered how much he suspected or Madge 
 confided, till one evening, when Madge had gone 
 early to bed with a headache, the two were left
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 259 
 
 alone, he poring over accounts and plans, she 
 sitting with her knitting in a shaded corner by the 
 fire. It might almost have been a year ago, but 
 for the watchful look of her eyes turned upon 
 him every now and then, as he sat engrossed in 
 his work. Not so engrossed, however, but that 
 he said, suddenly : 
 
 " Rachel, is anything really amiss with Madge ? 
 Are not she and her husband happy ? " 
 
 "I don't think at this moment they are happy, 
 because they do not understand each other ; but 
 it's not for want of love." 
 
 " You do think that, then ? I couldn't stand 
 it He stopped with compressed lips, and 
 Rachel said : 
 
 " I know it is so. But what has Madge said to 
 you ?" She was only too thankful to speak, if she 
 might do so without betraying confidence. 
 
 "Oh, various things, and at different times; 
 but I could not help piecing them together, 
 though I did not think it was best for herself 
 to let her talk out to me, even if she had had 
 trouble with her husband ; but this afternoon she 
 burst out crying, and said that if Jack cared for 
 her any longer, he would not be so hard on her." 
 
 He started from his seat, and strode up and 
 down the room. " Hard on that child who should 
 be a blessing on any man's life 1 What did he 
 take her away from us for ? God knows how she 
 would have been cared for here ! "
 
 26O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " No, David, not hard on her ; he loves her 
 dearly, and is full of consideration for her ; but 
 disappointed he has been, and I don't wonder, 
 even if it is Madge." 
 
 " But, Rachel, I don't understand. The man 
 comes here and takes a girl who has lived in a 
 farm-house all her days, and sets her down in a 
 city life, where everything is strange and exciting 
 to her. What's the wonder if she should be car- 
 ried away at first ; he is older and knows the 
 ways of the world, and ought to take the respon- 
 sibility of looking after her." 
 
 "And that's just what he has done, and she 
 cannot bear it. As long as you know so much, 
 let me tell you the rest ; it's only fair to Jack, and 
 I think you will feel for him." 
 
 So she told the story as she had gathered it 
 during her visit to them, and what she had known 
 of the friends whom Madge preferred, of Jack's 
 letter, and his reasons for going abroad ; and 
 David listened, with the weight growing heavier, 
 as he could not but think that her chances would 
 have been better for quiet happiness with him, 
 even if she had started with no stronger feeling 
 than the affection and trust in which she had 
 grown up. 
 
 To-day Madge had been much disturbed at the 
 arrival of the letter which poor Jack had finished 
 on that last night in Paris, himself so ill and
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 26 1 
 
 unhappy. Rachel found her smiling over it in 
 her own room, and Madge detained her while 
 she read scraps of it aloud. Jack was so good 
 in remembering what she had liked when they 
 were in Paris ; he had bought the loveliest china 
 and glass for her dinner parties next winter. 
 Oh, dear! how pleasant it was to hear him talk 
 about it, and to think of their being together 
 again ! And how more than good in him to 
 bother himself over ordering dresses ; for if there 
 was anything which Jack hated it was shopping. 
 " Oh, Rachel ! how I hope, he will be pleased 
 with me when I wear them." Rachel laughed. 
 " He is so fastidious about women, they must be 
 much more than pretty to suit him, and it is that 
 something more that I'm afraid of failing in. 
 Ah, well ! let me only have him back, and 
 then " 
 
 She read on in silence till suddenly there came 
 a wondering " Why ! " then a word or two 
 more ; and when Rachel looked rather than asked 
 what she had found in the letter, it was flung to- 
 ward her, and Madge blazed out 
 
 " Read that ending ! It is too hard ! I gave 
 up what I wanted of all things, and I might as 
 well have had the pleasure, if I was to have the 
 credit, of going. He might have trusted me ! 
 No ! I will not forgive him for being so unkind ! " 
 
 Rachel read, and said, gravely: "I can't see
 
 262 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 what you have to resent, Madge. You would 
 have gone willingly when the invitation came; 
 and Jack only fears your giving way to the first 
 impulse ; he could not speak more gently." 
 
 " I don't much care how he says it if he means 
 to interfere with all my pleasure. I thought that 
 he would have come home so different, and now 
 it is the old story : he is to choose my friends, 
 and if he does that, I might as well have stayed in 
 Hartfield, for all the pleasure I shall have. No, 
 Rachel, you may look as disapproving as you 
 like ; you know nothing at all about it. If I give 
 way now I may as well give up everything at 
 once. If Jack would only be reasonable, we could 
 each enjoy ourselves ; but because we are married 
 is no reason why he should tyrannize over me." 
 
 Rachel would not even stay to listen ; quiet dis- 
 pleasure would have much more effect than any 
 defence of Jack, which wou^d only bring contra- 
 diction and more words for Madge to repent. 
 
 In justice to her brother-in-law, Rachel told 
 David even of this scene ; he could not under- 
 stand the whole situation without it ; and it almost 
 seemed as if the happiness of the two might de- 
 pend upon what influence she and David might 
 have in bringing Madge to her better self before 
 her husband's return. David listened in restless 
 silence, going back and forth from window to fire- 
 place.
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 263 
 
 " And you and I," he said, " have got to stand 
 by and see this child unhappy ? " 
 
 " For a while I suppose it must be so, if Madge 
 is going to fight against her husband's judgment ; 
 but I cannot think that such a man as he will not 
 find the way to soothe her." 
 
 " Tell me one thing," he said ; but it seemed a 
 very hard question to put satisfactorily, for he 
 waited so long, leaning over the back oi a chair 
 and gazing into the fire, that Rachel had taken 
 up the thread of her anxious thoughts again, 
 when he said, abruptly, " When Rowland objects 
 to Madge's friends, is it only this gay lady and 
 people like her, or is there in short, does Madge 
 have attention from men ? Is that the trouble ?" 
 
 " If there is any trouble, it begins and ends with 
 Mrs. Harrison. Of course Madge would put her 
 friend in the best light to me ; but I think she is 
 a woman who really would think she was showing 
 q. kind interest in Madge by feeding her vanity. 
 I can tell you, David, it is a world that we, at 
 least I, know nothing about. Of course I know 
 from the Lees how good and delightful people 
 who live in the midst of it can be ; but some- 
 times it seems to me as if poor Madge were swim- 
 ming in a sea of difficulties, and nothing 'but my 
 little straws of advice to cling to. I suppose I 
 feel discouraged to-night ; it is so hard to see her 
 unhappy, whether she is to blame or not."
 
 264 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 *' It would be of no use if you were to give her 
 a life-boat, unless she was willing to stay in it. 
 The truth is, Rachel, that Madge has all that a 
 woman can want. A good, honorable man for 
 a husband, and no worries about health or money. 
 If he were a harsh man, or even a dull one, but 
 I can't see how she can want a pleasanter com- 
 panion than she has in her own home. I wish I 
 knew, Rachel, if there is any one person man 
 I mean who attracts her." 
 
 " Dr. Rowland is not a man to discuss his wife 
 freely, even with me, about a thing of that kind ; 
 but I feel very sure that when he spoke in his 
 letter about her receiving admiration from others 
 beside her husband, he did mean one particular 
 person perhaps you recollect him Mr. For- 
 rester, who used to stay at Mrs. Lee's." 
 
 " I think I do remember seeing him about 
 here ; but what does the fellow mean by paying 
 attention to another man's wife ? " 
 
 " Why, David, I really don't believe that he 
 means any harm at all. If it happened here, 
 among us busy people, I suppose it would be a 
 serious wrong ; but there, in a great place like 
 New York, they have so little to do that they 
 just go about where they are most amused. But, 
 then, people can do a great deal of harm without 
 meaning it ; and Madge loves admiration, and 
 her husband is an old story, that's all," she said, 
 with a sigh which showed how much it was.
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 265 
 
 The sigh was echoed as David answered : 
 " Well, I'm sorry for Rowland ; sorry for us all, 
 forjjjat matter ! But I shall not let you sit up 
 .longer, Rachel ; you must go and worry your- 
 self ^o sleep. I'm glad we've had this talk, for 
 possibly there'll be a chance for a word here and 
 there ; but it rests with herself, dear child, after 
 all." 
 
 Rachel hoped much from Dr. Rowland's next 
 letter, as the offending passage had been written 
 in evident haste. So far, the letters had come at 
 an interval of eVery few days, but when a week 
 passed without a word, she felt anxious ; Madge 
 indignant but Rachel thought it was the anger 
 of alarm. Madge was growing restless, too, tired 
 of the quiet life ; and as she heard of one and 
 another returning to town, she wished herself 
 there, and 'when alone with her sister did not 
 hesitate to say so. 
 
 One afternoon, as Rachel and her mother sat 
 together at their sewing, Mrs. Anderson, whose 
 rocking-chair commanded a Jview of the gate, said, 
 " Who is Madge bringing home with her ? one of 
 her Boston friends, I wonder ? Come and see, 
 Rachel." 
 
 " I should only know by the voice," Rachel said ; 
 but still she came to look at the tall, gentlemanly 
 figure coming up the walk by Madge's side, - 
 certainly no native of Hartfi eld, and the first
 
 266 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 tones which she heard, as he came on to the 
 porch, told her that it was Mr. Forrester. A 
 more unwelcome guest, in Rachel's eyes, could 
 not well have appeared ; and yet, with all the 
 uncomfortable association which he brought to 
 her, she could not but feel the cordial grace of 
 manner with which he expressed, far more than 
 in words, his pleasure in her restored happiness. 
 He had just arrived from Boston ; had come for 
 a few days among the hills after Newport ; was 
 staying at the -hotel, and on his way here when 
 he met Mrs. Rowland. Madge's ladyhood was 
 something far more real than the lessons learned 
 in her adopted life, and she introduced Mr. For- 
 rester into her own home as easily and simply as 
 she would have met him in his natural surround- 
 ings ; but at the same time she could not help 
 wondering on what ground he and her mother 
 were to meet. Mr. Forrester himself felt a little 
 surprise at stepping into an atmosphere where he 
 saw at once that he was to be taken at a valua- 
 tion quite apart from any weight which position 
 or money might give him, where, indeed, he 
 must exert himself to be acceptable, as much as 
 if he had strayed unknown into a courtly circle 
 instead of into this cheery farm-house parlor, with 
 .fire blazing in the wide Franklin stove, and the 
 sun pouring in over the stands of geraniums and 
 chrysanthemums in the windows. He was re-
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 267 
 
 lieved and delighted too to find his attractive 
 little friend living with nothing about her to break 
 the illusion of her own charm ; and Mrs. Ander- 
 son was in perfect keeping with her surroundings. 
 She received Mr. Forrester with the kindly hos- 
 pitality she would have shown her clergyman ; not 
 as an every-day visitor, but as one whom she was 
 glad to make especially welcome, and he found 
 himself really anxious to appear what he could 
 imagine should be the ideal gentleman of this out- 
 of-ths-world home. So the talk went pleasantly 
 on, each daughter feeling in her individual way 
 that, her mother was appreciated. 
 
 " My daughters tell me," Mrs. Anderson said, 
 as Mr. Forrester made some inquiries about her 
 window gardening, " that in the city you even 
 have lilies of the valley in the winter. I don't 
 think I should like that, for I want my spring 
 flowers to look forward to." 
 
 Flowers were to Mrs. Anderson what hef little 
 children had been something which could not 
 have a life without her care and petting, and they 
 repaid her as flowers and babies do repay, by let- 
 ting you enjoy the perfection of their loveliness 
 in return for your time and thought, 
 
 " But do you think there can be too much of de- 
 lightful things ?" answered Mr. Forrester; "and 
 if you can have the best of spring and winter to- 
 gether, why not ? "
 
 268 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " I dare say you're right, sir," she said ; " but 
 you see, here in the country, we hoard up our 
 excitements, and when the first lilies come, we 
 know that we really have done with cold weather ; 
 and then it used to be my Madge's birthday pres- 
 ent," looking at her daughter, who stood close 
 by, with an expression which made Mr. Forrester 
 think what a wonderfully pretty pair they were ! 
 
 " I'm afraid we don't hoard up anything in 
 town," he said, " but take it all as it comes, and 
 then are desperately tired of ourselves by spring." 
 
 " I should not like to think that," Mrs. Ander- 
 son said, looking a little anxiously at Madge, as 
 if there was a suggestion of harm for her in his 
 off-hand speech ; " when we are snowed-up here 
 we are very happy and comfortable in our way, 
 and we often think how many interesting things 
 there are to comfort people for living in dull 
 streets. We used to imagine it, but now my 
 daughter tells us all about it, the pictures, the 
 music, and the beautiful houses, it seems to us 
 as if there were a great many privileges in such 
 a life ; but then I've known people make a bad 
 use even of liking to read." 
 
 There was a little wistful look of anxiety in her 
 eyes, even for him, as of wishing nothing but the 
 best for any one at all associated with her child's 
 life. He could not have answered her earnest- 
 ness and simplicity carelessly, and said, with as
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 269 
 
 sincere a wish that she should think well of 
 him : 
 
 " Everything has its drawbacks. If we have 
 more interesting things to fill up our time than 
 you do, they come so fast that we cannot help 
 being tired with it all. We do work hard some- 
 times, and for very good things. Did Mrs. How- 
 land tell you of our charity theatricals ? " * 
 
 And then he managed to give such an interest- 
 ing account of the Children's Hospital and his 
 sister's interest in it (interspersed with praise of 
 Dr. Howland's goodness and his wife's talents), 
 that though Mrs. Anderson had been rather puz- 
 zled to reconcile Madge's doing such an unheard- 
 of thing as to appear on the stage, with her ideas 
 of what was womanly and right, quite as impos- 
 sible to her mother as if she had voted, or gone 
 to Congress, all her objections were merged 
 in her tender-hearted sympathy for the beautiful 
 charity. After he had gone, Mrs. Anderson said 
 to Rachel : 
 
 " That seems a very good young man, dear, 
 though I suppose life in a city does carry young 
 folks away out of themselves. He could not stay 
 to tea, but I told him we should be very glad to 
 see him whenever he could come." 
 
 So Mr. Forrester was installed as friend of the 
 family as long as he might stay in Hartfield. Not 
 a satisfactory state of things to Rachel ; but she
 
 2/O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 felt as if she could as soon have suggested any 
 harm in the matter to.little Phil as to her mother, 
 who treated him as a waif mercifully thrown in 
 her way to be helped with good advice and the 
 best of all the things which she and Nancy knew 
 how to concoct. 
 
 Rachel wondered how Madge could have any 
 irtterest left to spare from the anxiety which, to 
 judge from herself, her sister must be feeling at 
 Dr. Rowland's continued silence. Madge de- 
 clared that she did not feel in the least anxious ; 
 this was the time that Jack had fixed for sailing ; 
 he was on his way, and would arrive some day 
 and expect to find her in a proper state of sub- 
 mission. Any suggestion of Rachel's was met 
 with a petulance which she excused on the score 
 that Madge was really unhappy and anxious. 
 But the irritability was kept for Rachel, and Mr. 
 Forrester thought he never had seen her so 
 charming as now, when her gayety was shaded 
 every now and then with a touch of melancholy 
 which gave her a new interest. Altogether this 
 farm-house life was an idyl coming after his sum- 
 mer's intercourse with conventional men and 
 women and no one to interfere with hrs sole 
 enjoyment of the situation, except the glowering 
 cousin, who, he rather thought, was mistaking 
 jealousy of a better-looking man for a high sense 
 of duty, which would have made him a most
 
 EDGE-TOOLS. 
 
 obnoxious third in all their rambles, had he had 
 the time to join them. 
 
 It was a week of ideal autumn weather. One 
 night of wind and rain might quench the blaze 
 of glory on the hill-sides ; but now came day 
 after day of perfect sunshine lying on the crim- 
 son woods, a wonderful world above and below ! 
 
 Madge had only said to herself that she was 
 very glad that Mr. Forrester's visit had come to 
 fill up this tedious time before her husband's re- 
 turn. Her heart was very sore between her vex-. 
 ation at his tone of reproof and the under-current 
 of anxiety lest after all there might be some seri- 
 ous reason for his silence. So, beyond the en- 
 joyment of a companion who understood the 
 associations of her town life as no one about her 
 could do, there was the soothing of her vanity in 
 the constant attentions given by one who knew 
 so well how to make a woman feel herself cared 
 for better than David, who stood waiting to 
 serve her with heart and hands, but only for her 
 own good.
 
 2/2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A LAST WALK. 
 
 MR. FORRESTER lingered with the beautiful 
 days. It seemed impossible that each one 
 should not be the last, and he said he was too 
 selfish to leave them all to enjoy so much with- 
 out him. He wanted to be missed, and should 
 have so much better chance of that if he waited 
 till the storm came which was to put an end to 
 it all. 
 
 " Does that haze mean any harm ? " he said, 
 coming in one afternoon. " Let us make sure 
 of the beautiful walk you told me about to the 
 pond with the queer name." 
 
 "Oh, mamma, and me too! Let me go to 
 Sugar-bowl Pond ! " Phil exclaimed, with caresses 
 and capers. 
 
 " If Phil goes," his grandmother said, anxiously, 
 " do not stay late. I really think it would be 
 better if he did not go at all with his cold." 
 
 But what Phil wanted, his "little mamma" 
 always wanted as well, and both promising obe- 
 dience, which they were equally liable to forget, 
 off they went.
 
 A LAST WALK. 2/3 
 
 It was the loveliest of "October afternoons, with 
 air so soft that it was difficult to believe that the 
 brown leaves through which they rustled were 
 the memories of summer days gone and past ; and 
 as they strolled on through the wood-paths, they 
 stopped every now and then to feel the silence, 
 none the less deep for the whispering in the tree- 
 tops, or now and then the far-away sound of a 
 crow. 
 
 Madge was rather silent, and Mr. Forrester 
 suddenly roused himself to find he was thinking 
 whether this quiet enjoyment of the scene and his 
 companion together this feeling that for the mo- 
 ment he had all that he could wish might possi- 
 bly represent the married life which he had always 
 classed with the whist of old age as something 
 to be accepted when all keen enjoyment was 
 over. Had he asked the question and received 
 a truthful answer in Madge's present mood, his 
 day of matrimony would again have taken its 
 place among possible evils ; for she was at that 
 moment in a turmoil of discontent upon which 
 his voice broke. 
 
 " When do you expect Rowland ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I don't know. I had supposed it 
 would be about this time, but it is nearly three 
 weeks since I have heard from him." 
 
 " We men are bad correspondents. I am very 
 skilful in finding out just how few lines will bring 
 me a delightful answer. I suppose one advan- 
 18
 
 2/4 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 tage of being a husband is to be treated' better 
 than one deserves." 
 
 " Jack was very good about writing at first ; 
 the last letter was from Paris, just as he was 
 coming over from England." 
 
 " Alicia Morris met him there. Mrs. Harrison 
 had a letter before I left Newport. She reported 
 him well, and full of kind attentions to her and 
 her mother*" 
 
 " I should say then that his letter was written 
 under her dictation." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " Mr. Forrester said, with 
 a look of surprise. " What has Miss Morris to do 
 with you, or your husband either ? " 
 
 Madge felt that she had committed herself, and 
 tried to answer carelessly, " Oh, nothing at 
 all ; it was only that Jack's last letter was rather 
 fault-finding ; Miss Morris was never any friend 
 of mine, and if Jack had been much with her he 
 might have had some idea suggested by her it 
 really was nothing, but it was the last time I 
 heard, and I thought he would have written to 
 make up, as children say." 
 
 Her voice grew tremulous, and she turned her 
 head away to try that no tear should slip down 
 and betray her. Mr. Forrester laid his hand on 
 hers ; it was really an involuntary action on his 
 part ; she looked so grieved, and it pleased her 
 to receive the little act of tenderness which 
 soothed away troubles with her as in a child.
 
 A LAST WALK. 2/5 
 
 " That woman is a true cat ; her first impulse 
 is to scratch ! She was much provoked with Mrs. 
 Harrison for giving up the plan to come out and 
 join her, and I dare say had spiteful things to say 
 of us all. But I thought Rowland knew her too 
 well to be influenced." 
 
 " Oh, no, he would not really ; but something 
 might be left to sting. Don't you know how it 
 is when you are away, and cannot speak at once 
 and have it all over ? " 
 
 " No, I don't know ! " he said almost gruffly. 
 " You married people astonish me with your half- 
 way confidences. When one has never seen the 
 right person, or the one it was possible to have, 
 it is very difficult to imagine being married at 
 all ; but if I did care for a woman, no Alicia 
 Morris could make me misunderstand her." 
 
 In his vehemence he dropped her arm and 
 moved a step or two away from her, apparently 
 for no reason but to switch at some dried bushes 
 with his cane. She stood still, rather confounded 
 with herself and the little storm of wrath she had 
 raised. The sympathy was delightful to her, but 
 she did not mean to be unjust to her husband. 
 They walked on again, and he returned to give 
 her his arm. 
 
 " Excuse me," he said presently, " but this is 
 rather a strong point with me, though I am 
 called very unsusceptible ; but what I imagine
 
 2/6 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 I should be is very different from most of the 
 husbands I see." 
 
 " I can't tell you how wrong I think I have 
 been," Madge said, looking very lovely in her ear- 
 nestness " to have made you blame Jack. What 
 he said would have been no matter if I had been 
 there to answer but it rankles now," with a 
 long, quivering sigh. 
 
 " I don't blame him. I only wonder, and I 
 suppose I've no right to do even that. As for 
 myself, I always thought that I would do one of 
 two things : live as I do, and have a fairly happy 
 life of it so long as the machine was in good run- 
 ning order, or I would make one woman as happy 
 as it seems to me very few women are. It's in 
 me to do it, I do believe." 
 
 " I suppose we all start with that idea," she 
 said sadly, " and then we slip farther and farther 
 away from one another, till it seems impossible 
 ever to come back to being what we were in the 
 beginning. Keep your ideal, Mr. Forrester ; it 
 will not be in the least what you expect Oh, 
 why do I talk so to you ? But I do feel so lonely 
 and unhappy to-night ! " 
 
 They had come out upon the pond and were 
 standing by the old tree, with all its associations 
 of her girl's life, and of the times when she had 
 gone there with her husband, when the perfect 
 love which she declared now to be impossible
 
 A LAST WALK. 2"J"J 
 
 seemed a thing for eternity and covering her 
 face with her hands she burst into tears. She 
 did not see her companion's face of intense feel- 
 ing. He was thinking how possible all things 
 would seem, if only some woman cared so much 
 for him, or if this one woman were his to win. 
 He drew her hands from her face, and his hand 
 rested ever so lightly on her shoulder as he said 
 in a low voice : 
 
 " How can you believe that any man who has 
 cared for you once, will ever love you less ? " 
 
 She looked up, and even through her tears saw 
 the look at which her woman's instinct took af- 
 fright. She might be unhappy, longing for sym- 
 pathy, doubtful of Jack's love, but she. wanted 
 none other ; and he saw the expression of confi- 
 dence die out of her face and the terror come 
 into it, and he wished the lightning had struck 
 his lips before he had uttered the words which 
 brought it there, when a cry broke in the air, a 
 child's cry of agony, " Mamma ! mamma ! " 
 
 Phil had been running before them in the woods, 
 threading in and out among the trunks, followed 
 by his familiar, the great black Newfoundland, old 
 Bose, who was living out his latter days in digni- 
 fied though rheumatic retirement, but never too 
 stiff to run at little Phil's call. The child had gone 
 on out of sight, but never out of hearing, calling 
 back to be sure that his mother was near ; and
 
 2/8 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 Madge would have said that it was but a few mo- 
 ments before that she had heard and answered him ; 
 but feeling outstrips time, and she had been too 
 engrossed with her own emotions to know how 
 long it was since she had heard his voice. The 
 cry from the willow-tree was followed by a splash. 
 Phil had run on to climb into the tree and sur- 
 prise his mother by calling from his hiding-place ; 
 but the stepping from bough to bough was so 
 easy, even for him, that he ventured on till one 
 treacherous branch, hanging far over the water, 
 gave way. It was but a moment, for the dog had 
 seized him by the frock even before Mr. Forres- 
 ter could reach him and carry him in his arms to 
 the mother, who sat upon a tree-trunk, white 
 and speechless almost as her child. Phil's eyes 
 were closed ; but as he felt his mother's arms 
 about him, he lifted his lids, and though they 
 dropped again, the look brought back her cour- 
 age. 
 
 " Come," she said, " there is a short way back ; " 
 and, wrapping him in her shawl, she gave him to 
 Mr. Forrester, and they hurried along the home- 
 ward path. Once Forrester looked at her, but 
 her face was so white and changed that he bent 
 his head over the little fellow in his arms, though, 
 as he heard her panting breath by his side, he 
 longed, but did not dare, to offer her some support. 
 As they came upon the farm-house green, she ran
 
 A LAST WALK. 2/9 
 
 forward, hoping to spare her mother a shock, if 
 possible, and there stood David, holding up a 
 letter. 
 
 " A telegram ! your husband well, and on his 
 way !" 
 
 The next moment he stopped, aghast at the sight 
 of Mr. Forrester, dripping, with Phil motionless 
 in his arms. Madge's face was announcement 
 enough of something painful, but Phil was safe 
 with her mother, and for the moment she could 
 do nothing more, and dropped senseless upon a 
 chair. Forrester would not leave the room till 
 she could speak and move again ; and he felt as if 
 his punishment had come, when he saw her, as she 
 tried to say a few words of thanks to him, visibly 
 shrink and turn towards her sister as from some 
 intolerably painful object. He refused all offers 
 of dry clothes or help ; would only take an over- 
 coat ; and rushed off to his hotel, saying: 
 
 " I may come in the morning to see how he is, 
 and say good-bye ?" 
 
 She made an assent without word or look. 
 
 Phil was tossing in a feverish sleep before 
 his mother closed her eyes. The telegram said : 
 " Have been ill ; all right again ; sail to-day per 
 Samaria." And, beside her fright and anxiety, 
 there was enough to think of in the meeting with 
 her husband to make her wonder if she was ever 
 to feel peacefully happy again.
 
 28O FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 The next day, both Phil in his crib, and his 
 mother sitting by him, looked ill and worn ; but 
 the doctor spoke cheerfully, and said he thought 
 no harm had been done ; if it had not been for 
 the heavy cold which was upon the child he 
 should fear no ill effects ; and Phil was cross 
 enough to encourage the most anxious watcher. 
 In the course of the morning Rachel came in to 
 say that Mr. Forrester was in the parlor waiting 
 to see her ; he was on his way to the train, and 
 very much afraid of disturbing her, but Rachel 
 was sure that she would want to speak to him a 
 moment. Madge gave up her seat to Rachel 
 without speaking, and went down. Mr. For- 
 rester was standing by the parlor-window, look- 
 ing out over the flowers. No, he said, he would 
 not sit down ; he had only come to know how the 
 dear little fellow was; and Miss Anderson had 
 told him that she thought there was no real 
 cause for anxiety. Madge tried to speak cheer- 
 fully ; Phil was doing nicely ; but her nerves 
 were thoroughly unstrung, and it was hard to 
 keep back the tears with which she had been 
 struggling all the morning, while she did her best 
 to amuse her child. 
 
 " I am so glad to leave you relieved of anxi- 
 ety about your husband," he said ; " and I hope 
 that Phil will be as well as ever in a day or two." 
 And as he saw how hard it was for her to answer,
 
 A LAST WALK. 28 1 
 
 he hurried on : " And soon you will be back in 
 town ; and I doubt if I shall be there myself; 
 but I hope you will have a delightful winter." 
 
 Something must be said if she was ever to for- 
 give herself, and she would speak. 
 
 " I did very wrong yesterday if I made you 
 think that my husband was anything but the best 
 and kindest. I know that I've not been all I 
 might ; but I shall be. No woman could ask for 
 more ; and he is everything to me." 
 
 The words had come almost in gasps, but she 
 had said it, and she saw that he believed her. 
 
 " You will be a very happy woman yet ; you 
 have all the materials for the happiest of homes ; 
 don't waste them." Then very earnestly, and for 
 the first time looking at her, he took her hand. 
 " And you do believe how much I care that it 
 should be so ; you will think of me as a friend ?" 
 
 Her face brightened instantly, and with a re- 
 turn to her own frank manner, she said : 
 
 " Indeed, I believe it ; you have been very kind 
 to me, and I could not part with your friend- 
 ship." 
 
 "It is yours for always, as true as ever broth- 
 er's was. Trust me," he said ; and was gone with- 
 out another word. 
 
 Rachel could not help wondering why Madge 
 did not recover her spirits, with the knowledge 
 that her husband was so near home ; she ac-
 
 282 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 counted for it by the shock to her nerves caused 
 by the accident ; but, in truth, the poor child was 
 struggling with a new sense of responsibility as 
 to what she ought to do. In the simple life of 
 her early days, duty had come to Madge as some- 
 thing that might quite as well be done by Rachel 
 (who did not mind it) as by herself, who did ; then, 
 when she began with all her new experiences, 
 and had no Rachel to look to, not even another 
 woman whose advice she could ask, it lay be- 
 tween Jack and his father to decide any doubtful 
 question. And as the opinion of the elder Mr. 
 Rowland was always given on the side of what 
 would be most pleasant, and to dispute it in- 
 variably led to uncomfortable discussion, which 
 Madge detested with all other disagreeables, sp 
 it always ended by her doing as she liked, with 
 an unwilling consent from Jack, which appeased 
 her conscience. But now had come a question 
 which even her cowardice could not refer to 
 Rachel, and back and forth she argued it till she 
 felt as if she no longer knew right from wrong. 
 If to relieve herself she unburdened her mind to 
 Jack, would not she be doing an equal wrong to 
 Mr. Forrester by betraying the error of which he 
 had shown himself so repentant ? After all, she 
 had led him on by her weakness,, and how could 
 she confess to her husband that she had com- 
 plained of him to another man ? When she thought
 
 A LAST WALK. 283 
 
 of herself as finding courage to speak, she could 
 not imagine in what words it should be clone. 
 But before she could settle with herself what 
 should be said or left unsaid, every personal feel- 
 ing was merged in anxiety for Phil, who suddenly 
 grew worse. 
 
 When the day came for Jack's arrival, her only 
 thought was of him and the sorrow to which he 
 was coming. And when he did come, she almost 
 felt that, in casting off the burden of responsi- 
 bility, the cause grew less. Phil must mend with 
 his father's skill ; she had known him do such 
 wonderful things for people for whom he cared 
 nothing, that now he could not fail. 
 
 At first it seemed as if it might be so ; for the 
 child, who had been lying in a feverish stupor all 
 day, at the sound of his father's voice roused him- 
 self, and a gleam of brightness came into the 
 heavy eyes. 
 
 " I felled into the water, papa," he whispered, 
 between the short, quick breaths. 
 
 " Yes, my darling," his father said, thinking 
 that he was wandering; "but you are all safe 
 now ; and papa is at home to take care of his 
 boy." 
 
 " I wanted to 'prise mamma, and I hided in the 
 tree, and then I tumbled down. Mr. Follester 
 pulled me out, and he was all wet." The feeble 
 voice died away as Dr. Rowland looked at his
 
 284 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " What does he mean ? what had Mr. Forrester 
 to do with it ? " 
 
 " He was walking with us, and took Philly out 
 of the water and brought him home." 
 
 She had had no intention of concealing the. fact 
 of Mr. Forrester's coming to Hartfield, and she was 
 too confused to know if the expression of his face, 
 or the look with which he turned towards the 
 bed, was caused by anything but the sight of his 
 suffering child. But this she did know : that in 
 the days which followed, even in the midst of her 
 terrible anxiety, there was a want, an intense 
 craving for the something in her husband's man- 
 ner to her, which had always been there before, 
 and was not now. It was not that there was any 
 lack of consideration or careful watching lest she 
 should be over-tired ; but then he showed the 
 same to Rachel, and she did not think it could be 
 all her jealous fancy, which made it seem to her 
 as if he avoided any opportunity for talking to 
 her outside of the sick-room, where there was but 
 one thought for them all. 
 
 There were days of watching, when it seemed 
 as if any moment might end the life of this little 
 child. Such a short life ! and yet with it would 
 pass away happiness which, in its perfection, 
 could never come again to father or mother. 
 Then a dawn of hope, almost too pale to believe, 
 that the night of despair was over ; and then
 
 A LAST WALK. 285 
 
 a day, when the shrewd old country doctor, to 
 whom all belonging to the Andersons came next 
 to his own, wrung Dr. Howland's hand, and said, 
 with tears in his eyes, " With the Lord's help, sir, 
 I do believe we've pulled him through ! " 
 
 A sense of peace and rest seemed to settle 
 down over the whole household. Rachel, from 
 the window, saw her father evidently discussing 
 farm affairs with one of his workmen, his hands in 
 his pockets, and a generally easy air, as if the world 
 was of some interest to him again ; and in the 
 nursery her mother was knitting by the fire, 
 while Susan's one pair of vigilant eyes were con- 
 sidered guard enough over the child, who was 
 lying quietly asleep. She supposed that Madge 
 and her husband were together ; but on going to 
 her own room she found the door between the 
 two rooms open, and, looking in, saw Madge 
 not resting comfortably in the easy-chair, but 
 sitting on a low stool by the fire. Her attitude 
 was so forlorn, with her head resting against the 
 chimney-piece, and her hands lying idly in her 
 lap, that she looked more like a weary child her- 
 self, than a mother rejoicing over the recovery of 
 her first-born. 
 
 " I thought that your husband was with you," 
 she said. 
 
 " No ; I don't know where he is. He went 
 down stairs with the doctor, and I heard the door 
 shut. I think he must have gone to walk."
 
 286 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " I wish you would lie down. You are not 
 resting, and you ought to be making up your 
 strength. Your husband will need you." 
 
 " I don't fhink he needs me any more," Madge 
 said, without turning her eyes from the fire. 
 Rachel sat down near and rested her sister's 
 head upon her knee. The voice had sounded 
 very dry and hard; but as Rachel stroked her 
 cheek her hand was wet with tears. 
 
 " If anything has gone wrong between you and 
 Jack you must speak to him, Madge, honestly. 
 Don't keep anything back. I will never believe 
 that the truth will not clear away everything be- 
 tween people who really love each other." 
 
 " If he does love me if I was sure of that 
 I think I should not be so afraid of him." 
 
 "Do you think that is fair to your husband, 
 Madge ? I am sure you would think it was a 
 slur upon you if he could say that. Why, it 
 means that you do not trust his kindness and 
 good heart, even if you have done wrong." 
 
 " I do think he is afraid of its not being in me 
 to do right. Oh, Rachel ! if you will only prepare 
 the way for me. Tell him " 
 
 " No, Madge, I will tell him- nothing. I don't 
 even want to know what is wrong, for I have no 
 right to hear. When he was away it was natural 
 for you to come to me for advice ; but no one, 
 not even I, must come between you and him
 
 A LAST WALK. 287 
 
 now. And what is the good of my advice ? That 
 is not what your husband wants. It is that you 
 should do what he wishes, and because you love 
 him." 
 
 " And he will be very kind, and will give a 
 long sigh, and 1 shall know that he is thinking 
 how soon he will have to go through the same 
 thing again. He does not even think it's worth 
 while to quarrel with me." 
 
 "Then, dear, if you have anything to reproach 
 yourself with, I should think that was a very 
 mild punishment. No, Madge ; if you feared to 
 have the most terrible scene to go through, I 
 should say do it, and remember that the only 
 happiness that is worth your having depends 
 on it." 
 
 " And you won't help me, Rachel ? " 
 
 " Not with one word, darling. But I will tell 
 you what I will do : and that is, help you on to 
 the lounge and get you to sleep. Tired as you 
 are now you can see nothing as it is." 
 
 Madge was too worn out to dispute, and let 
 herself be comfortably settled with a warm wrap 
 over her, and the fire-light shaded, before Rachel 
 sat down to soothe*her off to sleep by reading in 
 her quiet voice, what, Madge did not know ; she 
 only had a sense of being cared for and helped 
 even by her sister's presence. A dreamy hope 
 came over her that all might some time be well ; 
 and the tired eyes closed.
 
 288 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 When good Dr. Green gave Jack's hand a 
 parting wring, and jumping into his old chaise 
 jogged off with the broad smile on his face, 
 which was always known in the neighborhood to 
 mean good news, he left behind, as he thought, 
 the happiest of fathers ; and indeed Jack himself 
 marvelled to find that it was not so. His boy, the 
 delight of his eyes, was out of danger ; would in 
 all probability soon be as well as ever ; and here 
 he stood feeling that the setting sun meant the 
 coming on of as dark a night of trouble as he had 
 felt in the worst of their anxiety, and with the 
 added trial of loneliness in his heart. 
 
 While their child was in danger, he and his 
 wife had at least their sorrow in common ; but 
 now she seemed farther away from him than when 
 the Atlantic was between them. The letter, 
 written in her first irritation at what she consid- 
 ered the dictatorial tone of his from Paris, was 
 full of the elements of discord. She resented his 
 wishing to choose her friends ; showed that she 
 had given up the visit to Newport simply to 
 please Rachel ; and asserted her right to be 
 trusted to do as she liked. This was read by him 
 as soon as he was sufficiently- recovered from his 
 short but sharp attack of fever to attend to any 
 of his own affairs ; and as soon as possible after- 
 wards he sailed to arrive at home and find 
 what was the absolute truth, and yet not as bad
 
 A LAST WALK. 289 
 
 as it seemed that Madge had renewed her in- 
 timacy with Mr. Forrester, and that it had even 
 led to endangering her child's life ; for the acci- 
 dent had apparently happened when she had 
 been too engrossed with him to attend to Phil. 
 And now was it worth while to attempt any ex- 
 planation with her ? Certainly not, if her mood 
 was the same in which she wrote, for words 
 would only lead to misunderstanding. Even to 
 Rachel he could not talk on this subject ; at least 
 not yet. Something in her manner made him 
 feel that she was in sympathy with him, and he 
 never doubted that her influence had been for the 
 best, as far as Madge would submit. But what 
 could any one do if Madge's love for her husband 
 was not power enough ? No ! If blame there 
 was, let it rest with him who had not stayed at 
 his post. 
 
 Deep in these wretched doubts and regrets he 
 wandered on, and turning in at the Lees' avenue, 
 thought it would at least be a relief from his own 
 trouble to give his aunt Fanny the happiness of 
 hearing the good news about Phil. It would be 
 an easement of his pain, he thought, just to see 
 her pleasant face light up in sympathy with his 
 joy about his child, even if he could not ask for 
 comfort in the worse pain which lay behind. He 
 was glad to find Mrs. Lee alone. Her book had 
 just been laid aside, and she was ready for a talk
 
 290 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 with him over the fire, thankful indeed when she 
 found what his errand was. He sat down and 
 told her all the particulars she was interested to 
 hear. She and Helen ha^ been at the farm-house 
 every day with offers of assistance, but there had 
 been very few moments to spare from the sick- 
 room, and now Mrs. Lee was glad to see and talk 
 quietly with her nephew ; and she hoped to know 
 something about himself; for she had thought 
 him not looking well (though there was enough 
 to account for that in his own recent illness), and 
 there was an anxiety on her mind which she 
 would be glad to have set at rest. 
 
 Everything connected with Phil told, Dr. How- 
 land sat silent, leaning back in his chair gazing 
 into the fire. Fixed as his eyes were on the 
 flaming logs, Mrs. Lee could watch him unob- 
 served, and what she saw did not make her 
 trouble less. There had always been in Jack's 
 face a likeness to his father, as she remembered 
 him during her sister's life ; a handsome man 
 very handsome to those who did not know what 
 harshness the large gray eyes and finely modeled 
 mouth were capable of expressing. But in the 
 son's face the resemblance had been so tempered 
 by the traits inherited from his mother, that she 
 had never thought before of the possibility that 
 circumstances might develop something lying 
 hidden till an evil moment should bring it out.
 
 A LAST WALK. 2QI 
 
 Yet there it was, as he looked blankly before him 
 with eyes which saw only the images of his 
 thoughts, and lips tight set to hold back the 
 fierce something with which he was strusrdinsr 
 
 <-* oo o 
 
 within. No ! She would not believe that any 
 possibility of life could turn her favorite Jack, 
 whom she had loved as a boy of her own, into 
 anything like the harsh tyrant whose mere line 
 and trick of feature he had inherited. But she 
 must rouse him and break up the resemblance. 
 
 " Madge must be quite worn out," she said. 
 " She will feel her fatigue now that the strain is 
 taken off." 
 
 " Yes. I hope she is lying down. I left her 
 with Rachel when I came down stairs to talk 
 with Dr. Green, and then I thought I would come 
 here to relieve your mind. Rachel will be sure 
 to take care of her." 
 
 Grateful as Mrs. Lee was for his thought of 
 her, she would rather it should have been given 
 to his wife. It seemed so unnatural that at this 
 moment the two should not be rejoicing together. 
 
 " You must watch her carefully, and not let her 
 begin the winter life before she is fit for it. And, 
 Jack, I do not think you are looking over-well 
 yourself." 
 
 "Oh, I shall be all right now. My fever and 
 the voyage and this anxiety have made a heavy 
 pull upon me. But my health is all right."
 
 2Q2 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 There was a little emphasis on the word health 
 which made Mrs. Lee hope that something more 
 was coming, and she did not speak directly. 
 
 " I am afraid," he said, and paused, then went 
 on as by a sudden impulse : " I am afraid my poor 
 little wife and I need some treatment which is 
 beyond my skill at least. Aunt Fanny, I declare 
 to you I do not know where we stand at this 
 moment, but I fear we are heading on to some 
 great trouble " 
 
 " Then, my dear," she said earnestly, " stop 
 short where you are and find out what the trouble 
 is. I don't believe in any reserve or mystery 
 coming between people who love each other. 
 Go straight to her, and say, ' I am not happy, 
 and you are not happy, and I cannot live apart 
 from you.' She has had a great deal to learn in 
 these few years ; and, Jack, think what a young 
 girl she was when you took her away from her 
 home." 
 
 Again he waited before he spoke, and then 
 said : " Aunt Fanny, I do not know if you will 
 care to tell me the truth, but I wonder if you 
 have ever regretted that you did not put an end 
 to the whole matter the day I came to ask your 
 advice. I was very much in love, but I think I 
 should have given her up if you had stood firm 
 against it." 
 
 " I can say with truth that I never have re-
 
 A LAST WALK. 293 
 
 gretted it ; but then it was because I thought 
 your love had so lasted that it would carry you 
 through any trouble which might come ; but 
 without that," she leaned forward, watching 
 him with intense anxiety for his answer, and with 
 a corresponding relief on her face, when he said : 
 
 " I could have given her up then ; now I can- 
 not. If her love has gone, I must win her back ; 
 but how ? Only tell me what I can do, or leave 
 undone." 
 
 " If you can say that you are unchanged, I feel 
 equally sure that you have lost none of her affec- 
 tion. You have nothing to win back except her 
 confidence in your patience with her failings. 
 Always remember this, Jack: that you took a 
 very great responsibility upon yourself when you 
 carried a girl of eighteen to share with you a life 
 in which she had had -no experience whatever. 
 If she had stayed in Hartfield, her sister's advice 
 would have been all that was necessary to keep 
 her from any mistake she could have made ; but 
 Rachel knew no more than Madge of the world 
 to which you belong. I do not want to dive into 
 your confidence, but I think if you are willing to 
 tell me something of what has passed, that I can 
 give you advice and comfort too I have been 
 very watchful of what has been passing in these 
 last two months, and hoped that the chance 
 would come for me to say a word."
 
 2Q4 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 So Jack told his story of the slight misunder- 
 standings of their early married life, deepening 
 as the temptations of pleasure and admiration 
 gathered about her, and ending with this sum- 
 mer, and his despair of ever making her happy ; 
 at least, until Mrs. Lee had given him hope. 
 And she had not only hope, but certainty, from 
 what she had seen of Madge's failing health and 
 spirits in his absence, and from the few words of 
 confidence which Rachel had allowed herself. 
 She spoke of everything, even of Mr. Forrester's 
 coming to Hartfield, and how entirely it had been 
 without planning on Madge's part, though his 
 stay had been aided and abetted by dear good 
 Mrs. Anderson.. 
 
 What she did not tell was of the visit she had 
 had from Robert Forrester himself, the evening 
 of little Phil's accident. He had come ostensibly 
 to ask if they had heard any news from the farm- 
 house, and, finding her alone, had sat down by 
 the fire with her, as Jack was doing now. The 
 conversation had rambled on, giving her an in- 
 sight into the man, touching her sympathy, and 
 making her wish more than ever to put an end 
 to possible complications dangerous to the hap- 
 piness of others besides Jack and his wife. The 
 look of repulsion on Madge's face had made For- 
 rester feel that it was her purity, not his sense 
 of honor, which had been his safeguard. By that
 
 A LAST WALK. 29$ 
 
 flash of light he had read what he might have 
 been, and what was the real charm of the woman 
 whom he admired in her loyalty to her husband, 
 as never before. Though he told her nothing of 
 what had actually happened, Mrs. Lee felt that a 
 crisis in his life had passed, and they shook 
 hands at parting, with unspoken sympathy on 
 her part, and on his, gratitude for a sense of con- 
 fidence in himself which she had restored to 
 him. 
 
 " Now you must go, Jack," Mrs. Lee said at 
 last. " I should feel as if I owed an apology to 
 Madge for keeping you, if it were not that you 
 have settled so much in your own mind since 
 you came here. I am sure you now understand 
 yourself and her much better. But one thing : 
 don't let her feel as if this were the last chapter, 
 and you were sure to live happy ever after ; only 
 tell her that you have love and patience enough 
 for anything which may come. 
 
 Rachel was lingering down-stairs, watching for 
 him, Jack thought ; but her troubled look cleared 
 as he told her where he had been, and asked for 
 Madge in the cheery tone she had not heard from 
 him since his return. 
 
 " Madge was still asleep," Rachel told him ; 
 " all was quiet in the nursery, and she would not 
 rouse her from the first sound rest she had had 
 for so many days,."
 
 296 FROM MADGE TO MARGARET. 
 
 " I will go and watch," he said, "looking back 
 at Rachel with a smile which set her heart at 
 rest for her sister's sake. When Madge waked, 
 the room was still, and the firelight glancing on 
 the wall ; but as she moved, the voice that spoke 
 was not Rachel's, and her husband's arms were 
 about her. 
 
 " This is my welcome home," he said. " I have 
 you to myself, and no sorrow between us." 
 
 Though she rested against his shoulder, her 
 face was turned from him, and he bent down to 
 hear her say, " Nothing between us, Jack ? Do 
 you mean that truly ? " 
 
 " From the bottom of my heart I mean this, 
 Margaret. You and I have both something to 
 forgive ; yes," as she grasped his hand tighter, 
 " both of us. We have made our mistakes, but I 
 believe we have learned that the only real unhap- 
 piness is in leading separate lives." 
 
 Madge sat without speaking. How could she 
 accept his faith in her till he knew how her con- 
 temptible vanity had perilled her right to it ? 
 And yet she fell as if she would rather die dumbly 
 by his side at this instant of reconciliation, than 
 speak and feel his loving clasp loosen, though 
 she should creep back forgiven ; that she knew. 
 
 A moment of silence, and as with every second 
 the weight crushed her lower, he lifted her face 
 towards his, and said, " Margaret, look straight
 
 A LAST WALK. 297 
 
 into my eyes, and hear me say, that whatever has 
 passed since we parted must drop out of your 
 thoughts, as utterly as out of mine. I don't 
 mean, dear," as he gathered her closer to his side ; 
 " that I expect, that I ask, -to find my wife 
 changed from the girl I loved almost as soon as 
 I knew her. Only promise me this, here in 
 my arms, that you wtll never fear me again, as 
 I have seen you do in these last dreadful days." 
 
 The promise was unspoken, but her husband 
 did not need to hear her voice, or see her face, to 
 know that the heart beating against his own would 
 never harbor an unloyal thought of him again. 
 And so I leave the husband and wife, with the 
 lights and shadows falling about them. Of the 
 
 o 
 
 two men who loved her, David Anderson might 
 have had his heart more perfectly filled by 
 Madge the delight of his life; but she would 
 never have been the Margaret who struggled 
 with herself till she reached the beautiful woman- 
 hood which, to those who loved her, never grew 
 old. 
 
 THE END.
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S 
 
 LIST OF 
 
 JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 OLIVER OPTIC'S BOOKS. 
 
 Each Set in a neat Box with Illuminated Titles. 
 
 Army and Navy Stories. A Library for Young and 
 
 Old, in 6 volumes. i6mo. Illustrated. Pervol $150 
 
 The Soldier Boy. The Yankee Middy. 
 
 The Sailor Boy. Fighting Joe. 
 
 The Young Lieutenant. Brave Old Salt. 
 
 Famous " Boat-Club " Series. A Library for Young 
 People. Handsomely Illustrated. Six volumes, in neat 
 box. Per vol I 25 
 
 The Boat Club ; or, The Bunkers of Rippleton. 
 
 All Aboard ; or, Life on the Lake. 
 
 Now or Never ; or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright 
 
 Try Again ; or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry West. 
 
 Poor and Proud ; or, The Fortunes of Katy Redburn. 
 
 Little by Little ; or, The Cruise of the Flyaway. 
 
 Lake Shore Series, The. Six volumes. Illustrated. 
 
 In neat box. Per vol I *J 
 
 Through by Daylight ; or, The Young Engineer of the 
 
 Lake Shore Railroad. 
 
 Lightning Express ; or, The Rival Academies. 
 On Time , or, The Young Captain of the Ucayga Steamer. 
 Switch Off ; or, The War of the Students. 
 Break Up ; or, The Young Peacemakers. 
 Bear and Forbear; or, The Young Skipper of Lako 
 
 Ucayga.
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Soldier Boy Series, The. Three volumes, in neat 
 
 box. Illustrated. Per vol I 50 
 
 The Soldier Boy ; or, Tom Somers in the Army. 
 
 The Young Lieutenant ; or, The Adventures of an Army 
 
 Officer. 
 Fighting Joe ; or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. 
 
 Sailor Boy Series, The. Three volumes in neat box. 
 
 Illustrated. Per vol I 50 
 
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 Brave Old Salt ; or, Life on the Quarter-Deck. 
 
 fftarry Flag Series, The. Six volumes. Illustrated. 
 
 Per vol I 25 
 
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 Breaking Away ; or, The Fortunes of a Student. 
 Seek and Find ; or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy. 
 Freaks of Fortune ; or, Half Round the World. 
 Make or Break ; or, The Rich Man's Daughter. 
 Down the River ; or, Buck Bradford and the Tyrants. 
 
 The Household Library. 3 volumes. Illustrated. 
 
 Per volume I 50 
 
 Living too Fast. In Doors and Out. 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 Way of the World, The. By William T. Adams (Oliver 
 
 Optic) I2mo I 50 
 
 Woodville Stories. Uniform with Library for Young 
 
 People. Six volumes. Illustrated. Per vol :6mo I 25 
 
 Rich and Humble ; or, The Mission of Bertha Grant 
 In School and Out ; or, The Conquest of Richard Grant. 
 Watch and Wait ; or, The Young Fugitives. 
 Work and Win ; or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise. 
 Hope and Have ; or, Fanny Grant among the Indians. 
 Haste and Waste ; or, The Young Pilot of Lake ChamplaiUi
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Yacht Club Series. Uniform with the ever popular 
 " Boat Club " Series. Completed in six vols. Illustrated. 
 Pervol . i6mo i 50 
 
 Little Bobtail ; or, The Wreck oi the PenobscoL 
 
 The Yacht Club ; or, The Youi.g Boat Builders. 
 
 Money Maker ; or, The Victory of the Basilisk. 
 
 The Coming Wave ; or, The Treasure of High Rock. 
 
 The Dorcas Club ; or, Our Girls Arioat. 
 
 Ocean Born ; or, The Cruise of the Clubs. 
 
 Onward and Upward Series, The. Complete in six 
 
 volumes. Illustrated. In neat box. Porvol I 25 
 
 Field and Forest ; or, The Fortunes of a Fam?er. 
 Plane and Plank ; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic. 
 Desk and Debit ; or, The Catastrophes of a Clerk. 
 Cringle and Cross-Tree ; or, The Sea Swashes of a Sailor. 
 Bivouac and Battle ; or, The Struggles of a Soldier. 
 Sea and Shore ; or, The Tramps of a Traveller. 
 
 Young America Abroad Series. A Library of 
 Travel and Adventure in Foreign La^ds. Illustrated 
 by Nast, Stevens, Perkins, and others. Per vol. i6mo I 50 
 
 First Series. 
 
 Outward Bound ; or, Young America Afloat 
 
 Shamrock and Thistle ; or, Young America in Ireland an* 
 
 Scotland. 
 
 Red Cross ; or, Young America in England and Wales. 
 Dikes and Ditches , or, Young America in Holland ai.d 
 
 Belgium. , 
 
 Palace and Cottage; or, Young America m France a^ 
 
 Switzerland. 
 Down the Rhine ; or, Young America in Germany. 
 
 Second Series. 
 Up the Baltic ; or, Young America in Norway, Sweden, anl 
 
 Denmark. , . 
 
 Northern Lands ; or, Young America in Russia an . 
 
 Cross and Crescent ; or, Young America m Turkey a 
 
 Su^nyTh'ores ; or, Young America in Italy and Austria. 
 Vine and Olive ; or, Young America in Spam and Portugal 
 Isles of the Sea; or, Young America Homeward Bound.
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS, 
 
 i f 
 
 Riverdale Stories. Twelve volumes. A New Edition. 
 Profusely Illustrated from new designs by Billings. In 
 neat box. Per vcl 
 
 Little Merchant Proud and Lazy. 
 
 Young Voyagers. Careless Kate. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe, Jr. Christmas Gift. 
 
 Dolly and I. The Picnic Party. 
 
 Uncle Ben. The Gold Thimble. 
 
 Birthday Party. The Do-Somethings. 
 
 Riverdale Story Books* Six volumes, in neat box. 
 Cloth. Per voL 
 
 Little Merchant. Proud and Lazy. 
 
 Young Voyagers. Careless Kate. 
 
 Dolly and I. Robinson Crusoe, Jr. 
 
 Flora Lee Story Books. Six volumes in neat box. 
 Cloth. Per vol 
 
 Christmas Gift The Picnic Party. 
 
 Uncle Ben. The Gold Thimble. 
 
 Birthday Party. The Do-Somethings. 
 
 Great Western Series, The. Six volumes. Illus- 
 trated. Per vol I 50 
 
 Going West ; or, The Perils of a Poor Boy. 
 Out West ; or, Roughing it on the Great Lakes. 
 Lake Breezes. 
 
 Our Boys' and Girls' Offering* Containing Oliver 
 Optic's popular Story, Ocean Born ; or, The Cruise of the 
 Clubs ; Stories of the Seas, Tales of Wonder, Records 
 of Travel, &c. Edited by Oliver Optic. Profusely 
 Illustrated. Covers printed in Colors. 8vo I 50 
 
 Our Boys' and Girls' Souvenir. Containing Oliver 
 Optic's Popular Story, Going West ; or, The Perils of a 
 Poor Boy ; Stories of the Sea, Tales of Wonder, Records 
 of Travel, &c. Edited by Oliver Optic. With numer- 
 ous full-page and letter-press Engravings. Covers 
 printed in Colors. Svo. i 50 
 
 I
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BY ELIJAH KELLOGG. 
 
 Each Set in a neat Box. 
 
 Elm Island Stories. Complete in six volumes. i6mo. 
 
 Illustrated. Per vol 125 
 
 Lion Ben of Elm Island. 
 
 Charlie Bell. 
 
 The Ark of Elm Island. 
 
 The Boy Farmers of Elm Island.. 
 
 The Young Shipbuilders of Elm Island. 
 
 The Hardscrabble of Elm Island. 
 
 Pleasant Cove Series. Complete in six volumes. Il- 
 lustrated. Per vol I 25 
 
 Arthur Brown, the Young Captain. 
 The Young Deliverers. 
 The Cruise of the Casco. 
 Child of the Island Glen. 
 John Godsoe's Legacy. 
 Fisher Boys of Pleasant Cove. 
 
 Whispering Pine Series, The. Complete in six vol- 
 umes. Illustrated. Per vol I 25 
 
 A Stout Heart ; or, The Student from over the Sea. 
 The Spark of Genius ; or, The College Life of James 
 
 Trafton. , , . 
 
 The Sophomores of Radcliffe ; or, James Trafton and t 
 
 Bosom Friends. 
 
 The Whispering Pine ; or, The Graduates of Radcliffe. 
 Winning His Spurs; or, Henry Morton's First Trial. . 
 
 The Turning of the Tide; or, Radcliffe Rich and his 
 
 Patients. 
 
 Forest Glen Series. Complete in six volumes. 
 
 Illustrated. Per vol * 
 
 Sowed by the Wind. Black Rifle's Mission. 
 
 W olf Run- Forest Glen. 
 
 Brought to the Front Rurying the Ilatche
 
 LEE & SHEPARD'S JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BY SOPHIE MAT. 
 
 Little Prudy's Flyaway Series. By the author of 
 "Dotty Dimple Stories," and "Little Prudy Stories." 
 Complete in six volumes. Illustrated. Per vol 75 
 
 Little Folks Astray. Little Grandmother. 
 
 Prudy Keeping House. Little Grandfather. 
 Aunt Madge's Story. Miss Thistledown. 
 
 Little Prudy Stories. By Sophie May. Complete. 
 Six volumes, handsomely illustrated, in a neat box. 
 Per vol 75 
 
 Little Prudy. 
 
 Little Prudy's Sister Susy. 
 Little Prudy's Captain Horace. 
 Little Prudy's Cousin Grace. 
 Little Prudy's Story Book. 
 Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple. 
 
 Dotty Dimple Stories. By Sophie May, author of Lit- 
 tle Prudy. Complete in six volumes. Illustrated. Per 
 vo1 7S 
 
 Dotty Dimple at her Dotty Dimple at Play. 
 
 Grandmother's. Dotty Dimple at School. 
 
 Dotty Dimple at Home. Dotty Dimple's Flyaway. 
 Dotty Dimple out West 
 
 The Quinnebassett Girls. i6mo. Illustrated I 50 
 
 The Doctor's Daughter. i6mo. Illustrated... . i 50 
 
 Our Helen. i6mo. Illustrated I 50 
 
 The Asbury Twins. i6mo. Illustrated. I 50 
 
 Flaxie Frizzle Stories. To be completed in six volumes. 
 
 Illustrated. Per vol 75 
 
 Flaxie Frizzle. 
 
 Flaxie Frizzle and Doctor Papa. 
 
 Little Pitchers.