The Old Gray Homestead

by Frances Parkinson Keyes

"Oh, I was so disappointed, and sore, and—angry! That was it, just plain angry. I had been going with Jack all along when Hugh didn't come for me, and Jack came the very night after Hugh went away, and took me for a long ride. He told me how terribly jealous he had been, and how thankful he was that Hugh was out of the way at last, and that Peter was going, too. So I laughed, and said that Peter didn't count at all, and that I hated Hugh—of course neither of those things was true, but I was so hurt, I felt I'd like to hurt somebody, too. And finally, I blurted out how mean Hugh had been, to make me think he cared for me, when he was just—having a good time. Then Jack said, 'Well, I care about you—I'm just crazy over you.' 'I don't believe you,' I said; 'I'll never believe any man again.' Just to tease him—that was all.' I'll show you whether I love you,' he said, and began to kiss me. I think he had been drinking—he does, you know. Of course, I ought to have stopped him, but I—had let Hugh—it meant a lot to me, too—the first time. But after I found it didn't mean anything to him—it didn't seem to matter—if some one else did—kiss me—I was flattered—and pleased—and—comforted. You mustn't think that what—happened afterwards—was all Jack's fault. I think I could have stopped it even then—if he'd been sober, anyway. But I didn't guess—I never dreamed—how far you could—get carried away—and how quickly. Oh, Sylvia, why didn't somebody tell me? At home—in the sunshine—with people all around you—it's like another world—you're like another person—than when there's nothing but stillness and darkness everywhere, and a man who loves you, pleading, with his arms around you—

"And afterwards I thought no one would ever know. Jack thought so, too. Besides, you see, he is crazy to marry me—he'd give anything to. But I wouldn't marry him for anything in the world—whatever happened—the great ignorant, dirty drunkard! Only he isn't unkind—or cowardly—don't think that—or let the others think so! He's willing to take his share of the blame—he's sorry—

"Then, just a little while ago—I began to be afraid of—what had happened. But I didn't know much about that, either. I thought, some way, I might be mistaken—I hoped so, anyhow. I wanted to come—and tell you all about it—but I didn't dare. I never saw you kiss Austin but once—you're so quiet when you're with him, Sylvia, and other people are around—and it was—it was just like—a prayer. After seeing that, I couldn't come to you—with my story—unless I had to—I felt as if it would be just like throwing mud on a flower.

"Then, yesterday, after the work was done, Peter asked me to go to walk with him. It was so late, when he and Austin got home, that I had scarcely seen him. I was going upstairs, in the dark, and I didn't know that he was anywhere near—it frightened me when he called. So—so I slipped—and fell—all the way down. I knew, right away, that I was hurt; but, of course, I didn't guess how much. I went to walk with him just the same, because it seemed as if it—would feel good to be with Peter—he's always been so—well, I can't explain—so square. And while we were out, I began to feel sick—and now, of course, he'll never be willing—to take me to walk—to be seen anywhere with me again! I can't bear it! I mind—not having been square to him—more than anything else—more than half-killing mother, even! Oh, Sylvia, tell them, please, quickly! and have it over with—tell them, too, that it was my own fault—don't forget that part! And then take me away with you, where I won't see them—or any one else I know—and teach me to be good—even if you can't help me to forget!"

* * * * *

Two hours later, when Edith was sleeping again, Mrs. Gray came into the room with a mute, haggard expression on her kind, homely face which Sylvia never forgot, and put her arms around the younger woman.

"Austin's askin' for you, dearie. It's been a hard day for him, too—I think you ought to go to him. I'll sit here until you come back."

Sylvia nodded, and stole silently out of the room. Austin was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, his smile of welcome changing to an expression of stern solicitude as he looked at her.

"Have you been seeing ghosts? You're whiter than chalk—no wonder, shut up in that hot, dark room all day, without any rest and almost without any food! No matter if Edith does want you most, you'll have to take turns with mother after this. Come out with me where it's cool for a little while—and then you must have some supper, and a bath, and Sally's room to sleep in—if you won't go home, which is really the best place for you."

She allowed him to lead her, without saying a word, to the sheltered slope of the river, and sat down under a great elm, while he flung himself down beside her, laying his head in her lap.