“I believe you are a saucebox! But that isn’t a bit nice of me, is it? to call you names in the first moments of our acquaintance—with the first words I address to you. I promise you to try and do better and say something nice. I don’t believe you are easily spoiled and feel that I may tell you, that already I am proud of my sister. I think they have named you well—Margaret. A daughter of the Gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair——”
“For shame, Osmond; to try to pay your sister compliments in such wornout phrases.”
A laugh followed and the ice was broken. Margaret felt and knew that she should love this brother. As the days of the following week glided by she gradually came to know all there was to tell and to learn. Osmond told her all about the father who opposed his coming here, when by accident he discovered that it was the boy’s mother he daily went to see; of the battle he had fought and how he had come off conqueror; of how there had been much in common between them; but that of late he was daily drifting more and more away from his father; then of how he had come into this circle, and how he had gradually come to hear and then understand their ideas; how he had come to know and understand what true womanhood and manhood were, what they meant, and that he now knew that his mother and sister were sweet and pure and true, notwithstanding the teachings of his father.
Then Margaret had come to know the sisters of Wilbur, and knew not which was the most love-worthy, the stately Edith or the sweet, gentle Hilda. She saw the heightened color in the cheeks of the former when the young physician was holding her attention; she saw the sparkling light in the eyes of the latter and the answering light in those of Lawrence Westcot; the adoration in Imelda’s glance as it rested on the splendid figure of Norman Carlton, whom indeed she found to be all her friend had said of him. “One of nature’s noblemen” was the best she knew how to describe him. But to which, indeed, of the manly faces and forms should she not have applied the same appellation? And O, how she enjoyed the society of this bright circle! how swiftly the hours and days flew by. How soon she knew her short vacation would be over and that again she must away to her work.
She loved her work but she could not help feeling sad that her visit would be of such short duration. She would nestle closer to Wilbur’s side, and just a little more passion would creep into her kisses, when she was folded against his heart, at the thought of the coming separation.
So the first week of her vacation neared its close, and all felt more than ever before the rapid flight of time, when one evening Norman joined the circle holding a telegram aloft.
“Look,” he said, “this announces the visit of a friend of olden days, a college mate, a most precious friend whom I will turn over to the tender mercies of our ladies; a splendid fellow, wholesouled and true. Maybe you girls can make another addition to our circle. He is well worth the winning, though he be a married man.”
CHAPTER XXXX.
We must now retrace our steps for some months back to the golden summer time.
In the great eastern metropolis, on the sunny banks of the beautiful Hudson, almost hidden within a grove of wild plum and cherry trees, stands a cosy cottage. Snowy lace curtains drape the windows. Creeping vines almost cover it like a heavy green coverlet. On the shady porches are arranged a profusion and variety of richly blooming plants. The grass plots surrounding the house are dotted with beds of rare flowers which fill the air with fragrance.