The day came but too soon for May to quit Enderby; the grandmother with
whom she lived was ailing, and sent for her. But somehow May could not
go that day, and must wait one day more; her trunks were packed, an old
and trusty maid had arrived for her; but little May was sick at heart
at the thought of leaving Enderby.
Was it love? Maidens did love early and long in those days; love was
then a deep abiding passion, not a graceful sentiment to change with
every change of raiment. At all events May loved _Deborah_, and clung
to her.
They had been alone all that last long day, though Deborah had run
many times to the door. On one of these runs she encountered Mistress
Dinnage. 'What art seekin' so anxiously?' asked the latter curtly, even
fiercely.
'I will not answer you, Margaret,' said Deborah with calm dignity; 'for
the last five weeks you have spoken to me thus, and avoided me in every
way. I have not deserved this of thee. A friend has ne'er proved a
friend who cannot speak out what rankles in the heart.'
'Speak out!' exclaimed Mistress Dinnage. 'She--_she_--has all
your heart! While I--a poor man's daughter, you care for no
more. What matters it, Mistress Deborah! It must be so. Mistress
Warriston is a lady, like to you, an' worthy o' you; while I, poor,
unscholarly'---- And Mistress Dinnage, her pride forgotten, burst into
a very passion of sobs. Then the anger and scorn that had flashed from
Deborah's eyes at her friend's accusation vanished in a moment at sight
of her tears--'Mistress Dinnage!' whom Deborah had never known to shed
a tear since their childhood.
'Nay,' cried Deborah, with her hands on the quivering shoulders; 'you
know this is not so. You know that neither rank nor wealth nor great
lady-friends will ever step between us. Must I tell thee, _silly_
Mistress Dinnage, that thou art dearer to my heart than any woman in
the world? If you will not believe it, if you _cannot_ see it, go
your ways. I am proud as well as you. And if so paltry a matter as
difference of station can ever separate, in thought or word or deed,
two great good friends, _then_ thou'rt not worthy of me, Mistress, or
I of thee!' With that, they fell into each other's arms, and each wept
a little, and then laughed. Then Deborah returned to May, not seeing
Charlie, for whom she had been vainly watching. Charlie might surely
have come to do her guest that honour, believing as he did that she was
going away that day. But the youth came not.
On the next day, Charlie rode over alone to see to some of his business
concerns, and by mere chance Deborah espied him going to the stables.
She rushed forth: 'Charlie, May is going away in ten minutes' time; and
I have been looking for you so to come and say good-bye. Come in with
me, dear boy.'
Charles Fleming stamped his foot and frowned darkly. 'Why, I thought
the girl had left you yesterday! Fool that I am to be caught. Deb, you
know how I hate maidens, fine ladies. Why can't you let me be?'
'Because Charlie, May has sighed to say you one good-bye. Your
roughness wins her heart; and you have been very kind, and seemed so
fond of May.'
'Finely you read me!' muttered Charlie; but he followed Deborah into
the house, to speed the parting guest. May was standing by the hall
window in her soft furs, and her small face was very sad and pale and
pleading; there were even tears in her eyes, which she tried in vain to
keep back.
'Good-bye, Mistress Warriston,' said Charlie, looking down with his
dark eyes, and then away, because of her tears. 'You must come back
soon, for Deb loves to have you here;' and he gave a grasp of his hard
brown hand.
'I will come; oh, I will gladly come!' faltered May, and then ran to
Deborah, and hid her face on her breast. The carriage-wheels were
heard; May was half borne out by Deborah, and Charlie stalked behind,
looking gloomy, because he knew not how to look. May Warriston gazed
from the carriage-window, and through a maze of tears saw the brother
and sister standing under the porch, Deborah kissing her two hands
vehemently. Pain was uppermost in that farewell of Enderby; the little
orphan May lay back on the cushions, and sobbed as if her heart would
break.