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