CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH
AN ANNIVERSARY
"Miss Marion, are you here? I am so glad to see you! I have something to show you. Where is Miss Norah?" Charlotte punctuated her breathless remarks with an ardent embrace.
"Why, Charlotte, how rosy you look, and I believe you have grown two inches!" Miss Carpenter had risen to meet her, and now took the brown face in both her hands and smiled into the blue eyes. "It is good to see you again. When did you get home?"
"Early this morning; and now Aunt Virginia has everything out of our trunks—you would think there had been ten instead of two—and she and Martha are putting away, so I ran," Charlotte answered gayly.
It was September again. The shop, which had been closed for a month while its proprietors took a holiday, had reopened, but the days were still warm, and little was doing. This afternoon, with its shaded windows and its autumn decorations of goldenrod and asters, it looked cool and inviting.
Marion, who had been reading when Charlotte entered, laid her book on the table and motioned to a place beside her in the window-seat. "What have you to show me?" she asked.
"You'll never guess, so I shall have to tell you. And, oh, Miss Marion, I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid."
"Am I so very formidable? I can't imagine what it can be. I'll promise not to answer if I do not like the question."
"It isn't that," cried Charlotte. "It is nothing I want you to tell me, it is something I want you to do."
"Then I am more puzzled than ever. Do let me see what you have. Is it a book?"
For answer Charlotte slipped the outer cover from a small green and gold volume and put it into Marion's hand, drawing near and leaning against her shoulder as she did so. "It is Cousin Frank's book," she said. "It came while he was with us at Rocky Point. He gave me the very first. Isn't it a dear?"
Marion turned the leaves in silence. "Love's Reason, and Other Poems," the title-page said. She turned another leaf, "To One Far Away," was the dedication. She paused here for a moment, then went on turning the pages.
"It is a very pretty little book," she said, in a tone that seemed to Charlotte less interested than the occasion called for.
"I thought you'd like it, because I have talked to you so much about Cousin Frank. And, oh, Miss Marion, it is about Miss Carpenter I want to ask you." Charlotte's head was against Marion's arm, and she did not lift her eyes.
"It was one evening when Cousin Frank and I were sitting on the sand in the moonlight. Some man—I forget his name, but at any rate he is a great critic—stopped us as we were leaving the hotel, to say something very nice about the poems; and I asked Cousin Frank if he were not pleased. He said he was glad, of course, to have it liked, and he valued this man's judgment; but that after all it was for the opinion of just one person he cared the most. I was certain it must be Miss Carpenter, because of the dedication,—that couldn't mean any one else; so I said I knew she must like it. He looked at me in such a funny way and asked what I meant. So I told him what I had guessed, and he did not seem to mind.
"I asked if he had sent her a book, but he said he did not know where she was, and the only person who did know was away, too. Then for a long time he did not say anything; but after a while I slipped my hand in his, and told him I knew she must care,—she couldn't help it,—although I hadn't any idea why she had gone away without letting him know where she was.
"He said if he were sure she did not care at all, he would give it up, for that would be the only manly thing; but until he was sure, he must hope. It was then I began to wonder if you knew where she was, Miss Marion. If you do, couldn't you tell her how much he cares? I don't see why she went away; but Cousin Frank said she had a reason, although he didn't think it was a good one. Could you tell her, Miss Marion?"
"Did you ever say anything to Mr. Landor about the shop or—" Marion left the question unfinished.
"Yes, that very evening I told him I was certain my Miss Carpenter was lovelier than his." Charlotte squeezed the hand she held. "He smiled, and asked a great many questions. But could you tell her?" Charlotte was nothing if not persistent.
This Miss Carpenter, of whom she had grown so fond, was a quiet person, not given to demonstration of any sort, but Charlotte suddenly felt herself drawn into a close embrace, while a very gentle voice said in her ear: "Charlotte, you may tell him I know she cares. I think she was right to go away—she had a reason, but—"
"What is going on here?" broke in Norah's gay tones. "Why, Charlotte, how are you? You two look as if you had been in mischief."
A moment later who should walk in but Mrs. Leigh, looking like an old ivory portrait, her apple-blossom face framed in silver puffs and white frills. "Are you at home, and ready to show your pretty things? Upon my word, I am glad to see the shop open again. We have missed you."
"Thank you, dear Mrs. Leigh; we are glad to be back again," said Norah, greeting her cordially, while Marion pushed forward a chair and Charlotte brought a cushion.
Mrs. Leigh adored to be waited upon; she beamed graciously on the three. "Thank you, my dears. This is a charming place, and I must say I didn't expect to see you here again."
"Why not? We had no idea of not coming back," Marion said.
"Oh, I have never believed it would last," Mrs. Leigh's bright eyes twinkled. "You are too—well, there is a mystery about you, you know."
"I didn't know. How interesting!" exclaimed Norah, laughing.
"Well, I suppose there is no use in talking about it. You won't tell me. Charlotte, when is your Aunt Caroline expected?"
"They were looking for her in a day or two," Charlotte replied, putting on her hat as she spoke. She did not care to stay and listen to Mrs. Leigh just now.
Marion caught her hand. "May I have the little book for a while?" she whispered.
"I have a piece of news for you," announced the old lady, as Charlotte disappeared.
"Madelaine Russell is engaged to Winston Graham. It is to be announced this week. It will be a relief to her mother to have her well married, and I expect she is getting what she wants."
"I think it is an excellent match," remarked Norah. "Winston is not a bad fellow, and Madelaine couldn't be happy without money. Why, if there isn't Mammy Belle!" she added, looking up.
In the doorway stood that dusky personage, arrayed not in her usual starched calico and white apron, but in her Sunday dress of black, with floating crêpe veil.
"Howdy, Miss Norah; howdy, Miss Marion. I des come to see how you all was gettin' on. I'se tolable, thank you, ma'am. Yes'm, James Mandeville's gone wid his mamma to see his grandpaw, and Marse Tom's the onliest one lef'."
"Sit down and rest," said Marion. "Mrs. Leigh, you know Aunt Belle, don't you?"
"Is that Belle Campbell? Of course I do. I remember you, Belle, when you lived at the Graingers'."
"Yes'm, Miss Sally, I 'members you. Looks like you's mighty peart yit." Mammy Belle smoothed the front of her skirt and then folded her black gloved hands in her lap.
"Oh, I'm not good for much any more," answered Mrs. Leigh. "But tell me, Belle, what made you leave the Graingers? I thought you were a fixture there."
"Yes'm, I reckon I'd be living there yit, if 'twarn't fur ole Marse Andrew. He done sassed me too much, Miss Sally. Aunt Judy she say, 'Better stay whar de pot biles hardes', Belle,' but I couldn't stan' ole Marse Andrew."
"I had forgotten about Aunt Judy. Is she still living?" asked Mrs. Leigh.
"Yes, ma'am, she's livin', but she is mighty porely."
"Isn't she very old?"
"Yes'm, Miss Sally, Aunt Judy's tolable ole. Look like she don' know fur shore how ole she is. You knows Marse Andrew, Miss Sally? Well, Aunt Judy say she war a little gal runnin' round when Marse Andrew was bawn, an' dey tuk her into de house dat day to wait on ole Miss, Marse Andrew's grandmaw, and it was corn-shuckin' time; so if you knows how ole Marse Andrew is, you knows how ole Aunt Judy is."
These interesting reminiscences were interrupted by Alex and her grandfather, who stopped at the door to welcome their neighbors back, as the judge explained, his fine old face beaming with friendliness.
"What do you think Caroline is going to say when she finds us all friends of the shop, Judge?" asked plain-spoken Mrs. Leigh.
"I am of the opinion that even Mrs. Millard will be unable to hold out against it very long. You know she hasn't had our opportunities," was the reply. "I have some new books to show you,—or some old ones, rather,—Miss Norah," the judge added.
Norah had been sitting alone in the south window for some time when Marion joined her.
"Where have you been? and what is that small green book you are carrying about?" Norah asked.
Marion put it into her hand; as she did so, a paper fluttered out and fell to the floor. Stooping for it, Norah's quick eyes read involuntarily,
"I love her whether she love me or no,"
and something told her it was the valentine of last winter.
Marion's fingers closed over it. "Charlotte brought me the book," she explained; "but don't try to read by this light."
"I shall not read much; I want to see what it is."
There was silence for some minutes; then Norah put an arm around her friend. "Marion, I have been thinking I'd ask Alex to be my partner when you go." Try as she would, there was a little break on that last word.
"Why, Norah!"
"No, let me finish. You know a shop is not the station to which you are called, dear. I see clearly that the fairy prince is coming, and there is no reason why he should not." Norah pressed her cheek against Marion's. "Do you realize this is the anniversary of our coming here?"
"It seems to me you are very ready to give me up," said Marion.
"Oh, Marion!"
"Forgive me, dear, I know you aren't. That was not fair. But I don't know—I can't talk about it now. I feel drawn two ways, and I am jealous of Alex when I think of her in my place."
"I don't want you to be altogether glad, but I am proud of what the shop has done for you. And of course I have known all along it could not last. We have had a good time, haven't we?"
"And it is not over yet," Marion said, pressing the hand she held. "There is one thing that perplexes me. The time has come for explanations, I suppose, and the situation seems a little melodramatic and silly."
"Don't think about it, then. It will work out of itself. Does it not seem strange when you look back to that evening when we first thought of the shop, that it has really been tried and proved a success?"
"Indeed, it does. How miserable I was, and determined not to go abroad, as Dr. Baird wished, but to stay there at home. Then you declined to stay with me, Norah; and when I was in despair you proposed the wild scheme of keeping a shop. I was interested at first, but you don't know how often I would have given up if it had not been for the fear of losing you. And now, Norah, I wouldn't give a hundred thousand dollars for the experience."
"That is a good deal of money. I ought to be very triumphant that my plan worked so well." Norah's tone was sad, however.
After the lamps were lighted Marion became absorbed in the little book, bending over it with a pretty glow in her face. From the other side of the table Norah watched her. After a while she rose and took down the rainbow bag and drew out a card.
| "If I make dark my countenance, |
| I shut my life to happier chance." |
She pondered it. "That is true," she told herself, "and there is no end to the beautiful things that may happen if only one is ready for them."