“Of course he won’t. He knows what he is about. He is not green enough to marry Grandpa Markham’s daughter; and if she don’t look out, she’ll get herself into a pretty scrape. It don’t look well, anyhow, for her to be putting on airs, as she has done ever since big folks took her up.”
All this and much more was said, and by the time the patchwork quilt was done, there remained but little to be said either for or against Guy Remington and Maddy Clyde, which had not been said by either friend or foe.
Among the invited guests at that quilting was the wife of Farmer Green, Maddy’s warmest friend in Honedale, and the one who did her best to defend her against the attacks of those whose remarks she well knew were caused more by envy than by any personal dislike to Maddy, who used to be so much of a pet until her superior advantages separated her in a measure from them. Good Mrs. Green was sorely tried. Without in the least blaming Maddy, she, too, had been troubled at the frequency of Guy’s visits to the cottage. It was not friendship alone which took him there, she was sure; and knowing that he was engaged, she feared for Maddy’s happiness at first, and afterward, when people began to talk, she feared for her good name. Something must be done, and though she dreaded it greatly, she was the one to do it. Accordingly, next day she started for the cottage, which Guy had just left, and this in her opinion accounted for the bright color in Maddy’s cheek and the sparkle in her eye. Guy had been there, bringing and leaving a world of sunshine, but, alas, his chances for coming again as he had done were fearfully small when at the close of Mrs. Green’s well-meant visit Maddy lay on her bed, her white, frightened face buried in the pillows, and herself half wishing she had died before the last hour had come, with the terrible awakening it had brought; awakening to the fact that of all living beings, Guy Remington was the one she loved the best—the one without whose presence it seemed to her she could not live, but without which she now knew she must.
With the best of intentions Mrs. Green had made a bungle of the whole affair, but had succeeded in giving Maddy a general impression that “folks were talking awfully about Guy’s coming there, and doing for her so much like an accepted lover, when everybody knew he was engaged, and wouldn’t be likely to marry a poor girl if he was not; that unless she wanted to be ruined teetotally, and lose all her friends, she must contrive to stop his visits, and not see him so much.”
“Yes, I’ll do anything, only please leave me now,” Maddy gasped, her face as white as ashes and her eyes fixed pleadingly upon Mrs. Green, who, having been young herself, guessed the truth, and, as she rose to go, laid her motherly hand on Maddy’s head, saying kindly:
“Poor child, it’s hard to bear now, but you’ll get over it in time.”
“Get over it,” Maddy moaned, as she shut and bolted the door after Mrs. Green, and then threw herself upon the bed, “I never shall till I die!”
She almost felt that she was dying, so desolate and so dreary the future looked to her. What was life worth without Guy, and why had she been thrown so much in his way; why permitted to love him as she knew she did, if she must lose him now? Maddy could not cry; there was a tightness about her eyes, and a keen, cutting pain about her heart as she tried to pray for strength to cast Guy Remington from her heart, where it was a sin for him to be; and then she asked to be forgiven for the wrong she had unwittingly done to Lucy Atherstone, who trusted her implicitly, and who, in her last letter, had said:
“If I had not so much faith in Guy I should be jealous of one who has so many opportunities for stealing his heart from me, but I trust you, Maddy Clyde. You would not do a thing to harm me, I am sure, and to lose Guy now, after these years of cruel waiting, would kill me.”
There was in Lucy’s heart a faint stirring of fear lest Maddy Clyde might be a shadow in her pathway, else she had never written that to her. But Lucy’s cause was safe in Maddy’s hands. Always too high-souled to do a treacherous act, she was now sustained by another and holier principle, which of itself would have kept her from the wrong. But for a few moments Maddy abandoned herself to the bliss of fancying what it would be to be loved by Guy Remington, as she loved him. And as she thought, there crept into her heart the certainty that in some degree he did love her; that his friendship was more than a mere liking for the girl to whom he had been so kind. In Lucy’s absence she was essential to his happiness, and that was why he sought her society so much. Remembering everything that had passed, but more particularly the incidents of that memorable night ride to Honedale, with all that had followed since, she could not doubt it, and softly to herself she whispered, “He loves me, he loves me,” while little throbs of joy came and went in her heart; but only for an instant, and then the note of joy was changed to sorrow as she thought how she must henceforth seek to kill that love, both for her own sake and for Lucy’s. Guy must not come there any more. She could not bear it now, even if the neighbors had never meddled with her. She could not see him as she had done and not betray her real feelings toward him. He had been there that day; he would come again to-morrow, and she could see him just as he would look coming up the walk, easy and self-possessed, confident of his reception, his handsome face beaming with kind thoughtfulness for her, and his voice full of tender concern, as he asked how she was, and bade Flora see that she did not overtax herself—and all this must cease. She had seen it, heard it for the last time! No wonder that Maddy’s heart fainted within her, as she thought how desolate, how dreary would be the days when Guy no longer came there. But the victory was gained at last, and strength imparted for the task she had to do.