“Yes, yes, I’ll manage it. I’ll fix it right. Don’t forget, day after to-morrow night. The Cutlers will be there, and, by the way, Maria has grown to be a splendid girl. She fancied you once, you know. Old Cutler is worth half a million.” And Guy tore himself away from the doctor, who, now that the ice was broken, would like to have talked of Maddy forever.
But Guy was not thus inclined, and in a mood not extremely amiable, he threw himself into his sleigh and went dashing down toward Honedale. For some unaccountable reason, he was not now one bit interested in the party, and, were it not that a few of the invitations were issued, he would have been tempted to give it up. Guy did not know what ailed him. He only felt as if somebody had been meddling with his plans, and had he been in the habit of swearing he would probably have sworn: but as he was not he contented himself with driving like a second Jehu until he reached Honedale, where a pair of soft, brown eyes smiled up into his face, and a little warm hand was clasped in his, as Maddy came out to the gate to meet him.
She was very glad to see him. The cottage, with its humble adornings, did seem lonely, and almost dreary, after the life and bustle of New York, and Maddy had cried more than once to think how hard and wicked she must be growing when her home had ceased to be the dear old place she once loved so well. She had been there five days, and notwithstanding the efforts of her grandparents to entertain her, each day had seemed a week in its duration. Neither the doctor nor Guy had been near her, and Maddy had made herself believe that the former was sadly remiss in his duty, inasmuch as he had not seen her for so long. He had been in the habit of calling every week, her grandmother said, and this did not tend to increase her amiability. Why didn’t he come now when he knew she was at home? Didn’t he wish to see her? If not, she could be indifferent too, and when they did meet, she could show him how little she cared!
At Guy she was not particularly piqued. She did not take his attentions as a matter of course, and did not think it very strange that since bringing her there on the night of her return from New York, he had not once called upon her; still, she thought more of him, if possible, than of the doctor, during those five days, and was rather anxious to see him. She had something to show him—a letter from Lucy Atherstone, who had gradually come to be her regular correspondent, and whom Maddy had learned to love with all the intensity of her girlhood. To her ardent imagination Lucy Atherstone was but a little lower than the angels, and the pure, sweet thoughts contained in every letter were doing almost as much toward molding her character as Grandpa Markham’s prayers and constant teachings. Maddy did not know it, but it was these letters from Lucy which kept her from loving Guy Remington. She could not for a moment associate him with herself when she so constantly thought of him as the husband of another, and that other Lucy Atherstone. Not for worlds would Maddy have wronged the gentle creature who wrote to her so confidingly of Guy, envying her in that she could so often see his face and hear his voice, while his betrothed was separated from him by many thousand miles. Little by little Maddy had learned that Lucy’s mother was averse to the match, and had always been; that she had in her mind an English lord, who would make her daughter “My lady;” and this was the secret of her so long deferring her daughter’s marriage. In her last letter to Maddy, however, Lucy had written with more than her usual spirit that she should come into possession of her property on her twenty-fifth birthday and be really her own mistress. She should then feel at liberty to act for herself, and she launched out into joyful anticipations of the time when she should come to Aikenside and meet her dear Maddy Clyde. Feeling that Guy would be glad to see this letter, Maddy had all the morning been wishing he would come; and when she saw him at the gate she ran out to meet him, her eyes and face sparkling with eager joy as she suffered him to retain her hand, while she said, “I am so glad to see you, Mr. Remington. I almost thought you had forgotten me at Aikenside.”
Guy began to exclaim against any one’s forgetting her, and also to express his pleasure at finding her so glad to see him, when Maddy interrupted him with, “Oh, it’s not that; I’ve something to show you—something which will make you very happy. I had a letter from Lucy last night. When she is twenty-five she will be her own mistress, you know, and she means to be married in spite of her mother—she says—let me see—” and drawing from her bosom Lucy’s letter, Maddy read, “‘I do not intend to fail in filial obedience, but I have tired dear Guy’s patience long enough, and as soon as I am of age I shall marry him.’ Isn’t it nice?” and returning the letter to its hiding-place, Maddy scooped up in her hand and ate a quantity of the snow beside the path.
“Yes, it is very nice,” Guy admitted, but there was a shadow on his brow as he followed Maddy into the cottage, where the lunatic, who had been watching them from the window, shook his head doubtfully and said, “Too young, too young for you, young man. You can’t have our Sunshine, if you want her.”
“Hush, Uncle Joseph,” Maddy whispered, softly, taking his arm and laying it around her neck. “Mr. Remington don’t want me. He is engaged to a beautiful English girl across the sea.”
Low as Maddy’s words were, Guy heard them, as well as the crazy man’s reply, “Engagements have been broken.”
That was the first time the possibility had ever entered Guy’s brain that his engagement might be broken, provided he wished it, which he did not, he said to himself positively. Lucy loved him, he loved Lucy, and that was enough; so in a kind of abstracted manner, arising from the fact that he was calculating how long it would be before Lucy was twenty-five, he began to talk with Maddy, asking how she had spent her time, and so forth. This reminded Maddy of the doctor, who, she said, had not been to see her at all.
“He was coming this morning,” Guy rejoined, “but I persuaded him to defer his call until you were at Aikenside. I have come to take you back with me, as we are to have a party day after to-morrow evening, and I wish you to be present.”