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. 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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.