Maggie Miller: The Story of Old Hagar's Secret

by Mary Jane Holmes

The letter being written, the good lady felt better—so much better, indeed, that after an hour's deliberation she concluded not to send it, inasmuch as it contained many complaints against the young lady Margaret, who she knew was sure in the end to find favor in her grandmother's eyes. This was the first time Mrs. Jeffrey had attempted a letter to her employer, for Maggie had been the chosen correspondent, Theo affecting to dislike anything like letter-writing. On the day previous to Henry Warner's arrival at the stone house Maggie had written to her grandmother, and ere the time came for her to write again she had concluded to keep his presence there a secret: so Madam Conway was, as yet, ignorant of his existence; and while in the homes of the English nobility she bore herself like a royal duchess, talking to young Arthur Carrollton of her beautiful granddaughter, she little dreamed of the real state of affairs at home.

But it was not for Mrs. Jeffrey to enlighten her, and tearing her letter in pieces the governess sat down in her easy-chair by the window, mentally congratulating herself upon the fact that "the two young savages," as she styled Douglas and Warner, were to leave on the morrow. This last act of theirs, the hoisting of the banner, had been the culminating point; and, too indignant to sit with them at the same table, she resolutely kept her room throughout the entire day, poring intently over Baxter's "Saints' Rest," her favorite volume when at all flurried or excited. Occasionally, too, she would stop her ears with jeweler's cotton, to shut out the sound of "Hail, Columbia!" as it came up to her from the parlor below, where the young men were doing their best to show their patriotism.

Towards evening, alarmed by a whizzing sound, which seemed to be often repeated, and wishing to know the cause, she stole halfway down the stairs, when the mischievous Maggie greeted her with a "serpent," which, hissing beneath her feet, sent her quickly back to her room, from which she did not venture again. Mrs. Jeffrey was very good-natured, and reflecting that "young folks must have fun," she became at last comparatively calm, and at an early hour sought her pillow. But thoughts of "stars and stripes" waving directly over her head, as she knew they were, made her nervous, and the long clock struck the hour of two, and she was yet restless and wakeful, notwithstanding the near approach of dawn.

"Maybe the 'Saints' Rest' will quiet me a trifle," she thought; and, striking a light, she attempted to read; but in vain, for every word was a star, every line a stripe, and every leaf a flag. Shutting the book and hurriedly pacing the floor, she exclaimed: "It's of no use trying to sleep, or meditate either. Baxter himself couldn't do it with that thing over his head, and I mean to take it down. It's a duty I owe to King George's memory, and to Madam Conway;" and, stealing from her room, she groped her way up the dark, narrow stairway, until, emerging into the bright moonlight, she stood directly beneath the American banner, waving so gracefully in the night wind. "It's a clever enough device," she said, gazing rather admiringly at it. "And I'd let it be if I s'posed I could sleep a wink; but I can't. It's worse for my nerves than strong green tea, and I'll not lie awake for all the Yankee flags in Christendom." So saying, the resolute little woman tugged at the quilt-frame until she loosened it from its fastenings, and then started to return.

But, alas! the way was narrow and dark, the banner was large and cumbersome, while the lady that bore it was nervous and weak. It is not strange, then, that Maggie, who slept at no great distance, was awakened by a tremendous crash, as of someone falling the entire length of the tower stairs, while a voice, frightened and faint, called out; "Help me, Margaret, do! I am dead! I know I am!"

Striking a light, Maggie hurried to the spot, while her merry laugh aroused the servants, who came together in a body. Stretched upon the floor, with one foot thrust entirely through the banner, which was folded about her so that the quilt-frame lay directly upon her bosom, was Mrs. Jeffrey, the broad frill of her cap standing up erect, and herself asserting with every breath that "she was dead and buried, she knew she was."

"Wrapped in a winding-sheet, I'll admit," said Maggie, "but not quite dead, I trust;" and, putting down her light, she attempted to extricate her governess, who continued to apologize for what she had done. "Not that I cared so much about your celebrating America; but I couldn't sleep with the thing over my head; I was going to put it back in the morning before you were up. There! there! careful! It's broken short off!" she screamed, as Maggie tried to release her foot from the rent in the linen sheet, a rent which the frightened woman persisted in saying she could darn as good as new, while at the same time she implored of Maggie to handle carefully her ankle, which had been sprained by the fall.

Maggie's recent experience in broken bones had made her quite an adept, and taking the slight form of Mrs. Jeffrey in her arms she carried her back to her room, where, growing more quiet, the old lady told her how she happened to fall, saying she never thought of stumbling, until she fancied that Washington and all his regiment were after her, and when she turned her head to see, she lost her footing and fell.

Forcing back her merriment, which in spite of herself would occasionally burst forth, Maggie made her teacher as comfortable as possible, and then stayed with her until morning, when, leaving her in charge of a servant, she went below to say farewell to her guests. Between George Douglas and Theo there were a few low-spoken words, she granting him permission to write, while he promised to visit her again in the early autumn. He had not yet talked to her of love, for Rose Warner had still a home in his heart, and she must be dislodged ere another could take her place. But his affection for her was growing gradually less. Theo suited him well; her family suited him better, and when at parting he took her hand in his he resolved to ask her for it when next he came to Hillsdale.

Meanwhile between Henry Warner and Maggie there was a far more affectionate farewell, he whispering to her of a time not far distant when he would claim her as his own, and, she should go with him. He would write to her every week, he said, and Rose should write too. He would see Rose in a few days, and tell her of his engagement, which he knew would please her.