“Now write one for Elfie and one for Candace,” said the child, “’cause we can’t write and we both want the same girl to get the money.”
It was not easy to make her understand that none but pupils were allowed a vote, and she was so far from being convinced that she slipped two papers in with the others upon which she had scribbled some hieroglyphics which she understood herself if no one else could. There were thirty papers to examine, for the ten day-scholars were also included in the competition. Upon examination twenty-two were found to bear the name of Marion Stubbs!
Her face was scarlet as she went up at a sign from Mrs. Abbott to receive the envelope, Mr. Bellamy having put her name on the check. It was in her mind to tell him that she did not feel deserving of such good fortune; for, aside from the pleasure of being chosen by the majority of her school mates, the money meant more to Marion than it would to any other girl in the school. It meant added comforts for the delicate mother and the little brothers and sisters, and some independence of feeling in regard to her own clothes, which through the year had been provided by Mrs. Abbott. She longed to say something of her pleasure and gratitude, but not one word would her trembling lips utter, and Elfie’s “Don’t cry, Marion,” as she threw her arms around her, broke down her composure, and with the child in her arms she ran out of the room, slowly followed by Candace, whose dark face was lit up with profound satisfaction. In fact, Candace’s delight led her into unusual irregularity of conduct, for, turning as she was leaving the room, she said:
“I think dem young ladies is de right sort dis term, an’ ole mammy, she tanks dem from de bottom of her heart.”
Then, with a dignity that would have become the queen whose name she bore, old Candace bowed low and followed her darling.
“And now,” said Mrs. Abbott, “I will read you, with her permission, a letter that Marion received to-day. I hope it will give you as much pleasure as it has given me:
“‘Dear Marion: I think you will be surprised to get a letter from me after the bad treatment I gave you, but I have been very sick in Rome, and for a long time the doctors gave my mother no hope that I would live. I have had a long time to think about every thing since I have been slowly getting better, and every thing looks very different to me. One night when I was very sick I thought I saw you crying all alone in your room because I had made fun of you and been so unkind, and I dreamed little Elfie was hanging over a deep pit and I was holding her from falling, but I could not pull her out because I had not asked you to forgive me for my bad treatment. That dream came back to me night after night; it was terrible, for I was always so afraid I should let Elfie drop. The cold perspiration used to break out all over me and I would wake screaming. Then I would wish, O, so hard, that I could ask your forgiveness; and now I am writing this letter a little at a time, for I am very weak, to ask you if you can ever forgive me. I have told my mother all about Elfie, and how it was my fault, and how you saved her; and though she tried not to have me blame myself so much I know she feels very sorry I was so bad, for mamma seems very different since I was so sick—ever so much nicer—and she has written to Tiffany, in New York, to have them send you a watch and chain just like mine.
“‘Dear Marion, will you say you forgive me?
“‘Your friend, if you will have her,
“‘Edna.’”
Most of the girls were crying when the letter was finished, for there were few who had not helped to make Marion’s life among them very miserable when she was a new scholar, and loving her as they did now it was a very bitter memory.
To a story that is told should there be any thing more added? From a critical point of view after “lastly” there should be no “in conclusion;” but the readers who have been interested in Marion will be glad to hear that Mr. Bellamy, whose gratitude was as unbounded as his means were ample, seeing the love his grandchild bore to her, legally adopted Marion and provided a yearly income for her mother, so that it was no longer necessary for her to look forward to teaching as a means for supporting them.
To be Elfie’s elder sister, her loving guide and steadfast friend, is Marion Bellamy’s pleasure, and the traits which made her lovable are not dimmed by the love and luxury with which she is surrounded.