At first she had objected to the boarding-school arrangement, saying Jessie was too young; but Guy, as usual, had overruled her objections, as he had those of Grandpa Markham, and it was now a settled thing that Maddy and Jessie both should go to New York. Mrs. Agnes was to accompany them if she chose, and having a general supervision of her child. This was Guy’s plan, and it had prevailed with the fashionable woman, who, tired of Boston, was well pleased with the prospect of a life in New York. Guy’s interest in Maddy was wholly inexplicable to her, unless she explained it on the principle that in the Remington nature there was a fondness for governesses, as had been exemplified in her own history. That Guy would ever marry Maddy she doubted, but the mere possibility of it made her set her teeth firmly together as she thought how embarrassing it would be to acknowledge as the mistress of Aikenside the little girl whom she had sought to banish from her table. Since her return she had had no opportunity of judging for herself how matters stood, and was consequently much relieved when, as Guy joined them, he began at once to speak of Lucy, telling of the letter, and her request for Maddy’s picture.
“My picture? You cannot mean that!” Maddy exclaimed, her eyes opening wide with wonder; but Guy did mean it, and began to plan a drive on the morrow to Devonshire, where there was at that time a tolerably fair artist. This, it must be remembered, was in the day of ambrotypes, and before the introduction of photographs.
The next day the four went down to Devonshire, calling first upon the doctor, whose face brightened when he heard why they had come. During the weeks that had passed, the doctor had not been blind to all that was passing at Aikenside, and the fear that Guy was more interested in Maddy than he ought to be had grown almost to a certainty. Now, however, he was not so sure. Indeed, the fact that Guy had told her of Lucy Atherstone would indicate that his suspicions were groundless, and he entered heartily into the picture plan, saying, laughingly, that if he supposed Miss Lucy would like his face he’d sit himself, and bidding Guy be sure to ask her. The doctor’s gay spirits helped to raise those of Maddy, and as that little burning spot in her heart was fast wearing away, she was in just the mood for a most admirable likeness. Indeed, the artist’s delight at his achievement was unbounded, as he declared it the very best picture he had ever taken. It was beautiful, even Agnes acknowledged to herself, while Jessie went into raptures, and Maddy blushed to hear her own praises. Guy said nothing, except to ask that Maddy should sit again; the first was good, but a second might be better. So Maddy sat again, succeeding quite as well as at first, but as the artist’s preference was for the former, it was left to be finished up, with the understanding that Guy would call for it. As the ladies passed down the stairs, Guy lingered behind, and when sure they were out of hearing, said, in a low voice:
“You may as well finish both; they are too good to be lost.”
The artist bowed, and Guy, with a half-guilty blush, hurried down into the street, where Agnes was waiting for him. Three hours later, Guy, in Mrs. Conner’s parlor, was exhibiting the finished picture, which, in its handsome casing, was more beautiful than ever, and more natural, if possible.
“I think I might have one,” Jessie said, half-poutingly; then, as she remembered the second sitting, she begged of Guy to get it for her.
But he did not seem inclined to comply with her request, and kept putting her off, until, despairing of success, Jessie, when alone with the doctor, tried her powers of persuasion on him, until, in self-defense, he crossed the street, and entering the daguerrean gallery, asked for the remaining picture of Miss Clyde, saying that he wished it for little Miss Remington.
“Mr. Remington took them both,” the artist replied, commencing a dissertation on the style and beauty of the young girl, all of which was lost upon the doctor, who, in a kind of maze, quitted the room, and returning to Jessie, said to her carelessly, “He hasn’t it. You know they rub out those they do not use. So you’ll have to do without it; and, Jessie, I wouldn’t tell Guy I tried to get it for you.”
Jessie wondered why she must not tell Guy, but the fact that the doctor requested her not to do so was sufficient. Consequently, Guy little guessed that the doctor knew what it was he carried so carefully in his coat pocket, looking at it often when alone in his own room, and admiring its soft, girlish beauty, and trying to convince himself that his sole object in getting it was to give it to the doctor after Maddy was gone! It would be such a surprise, and the doctor would be so glad, that Guy finally made himself believe that he had done a most generous thing!
“I am going to send Lucy your picture to-day, and as she asked that you should write her a few lines, suppose you do it now,” Guy said to Maddy next morning, as they were leaving the breakfast table.