A LETTER FROM GENE.
When Muriel entered the house she found awaiting her a letter from Gene,
and strange indeed was the postmark, for with his good friend, the
Viscount of Wainwater, the lad was traveling in foreign lands.
There were several sheets of thin paper and these were covered with such
fine handwriting that it took the girl much longer than usual to decipher
them.
She retired to the doctor's den directly after the evening meal, and
having made a fire on the hearth, she curled up in a big, comfortable
chair near the reading table, for she felt that she wanted to be alone
while she had this visit with the far-away lad who called himself her
brother-friend.
The first part of the epistle was devoted to descriptions of their
travels and adventures.
Then came some personal news items, the most astonishing of these being
that Monsieur Carnot had received a cablegram informing him that Marianne
was leaving High Cliffs Seminary at once and would return to France to
complete her education. Her reason for this unexpected action was not
given.
Another page was devoted to the viscount. "Sister-friend," Gene had
written, "how I do hope that some day you may meet this wonderful man
whose conversation is to me more delightful than any book I have ever
read, whose considerate thoughtfulness of all whom we meet, especially
those who are poor or in trouble, makes him more a nobleman than does his
title.
"I have saved until the close of this long, rambling letter a bit of news
that will rejoice your heart, even as it did mine. You will recall that
you told me that I might show your poem, 'The Lonely Pelican,' to my
poet-friend, Wayne, but that you would rather that I did not tell him
about yourself, although why you made the request I am sure I cannot
guess. Muriel, I don't want you ever to be ashamed of who you are, for
though your parents were simple fisherfolk, you are a princess among
girls. I am as proud to know you as I am to know the Viscount of
Wainwater. This was his comment when he finished reading your little
poem: 'Gene, I would be glad had I written that. It is a lovely thing.'
"Muriel, some day may I tell him about you; how your little girlhood was
spent cradled out there on Windy Island among the wild sea waves,
companioned by that splendid old man who was one of nature's truest
noblemen, and with only birds and Shags for playmates? He will better
understand your poem. Address your next letter to Cairo, care of the
American Consul."
For a long time Muriel sat curled up in that deep cushioned chair gazing
into the fire and dreaming dreams. How strange, how unreal, that she, the
daughter of a long line of seafaring people, should be the friend of a
lad who was the chosen comrade of a viscount, and yet Gene had spoken
truly, no man could be more noble than her own grandfather.
Then came a tap on the closed door and the pleasant voice of Miss Gordon:
"Nine o'clock, dear. You know our resolution--to retire at that hour."
Instantly Muriel was on her feet, rebuking herself for having left Miss
Gordon alone. Opening the door, she said: "Won't you come in? It won't
matter, will it, if we stay up a little later this evening? I would like
you to read this wonderful letter from Gene Beavers."
And so it was that Miss Gordon was ensconced in the big comfortable chair
and with Muriel on a stool at her feet, the older woman read the letter
aloud. "What a privilege it is for your friend Gene to have the
companionship of that prince among men. I have often greatly admired the
verses of Wayne Waters, and, dear----" The older woman paused and looked
thoughtfully into the fire.
As she had hesitated, Muriel glanced up questioningly. "I had thought
that I would not tell you," Miss Gordon continued, "but now I believe
that I will. Before we left High Cliffs, Miss Humphrey found a poem in a
new magazine, the title of which was 'The Moor in Winter.'"
"Oh, Miss Gordon, then you have found out about Marianne and----"
"You knew all the time, Muriel, and did not tell me?" The girl bowed her
head. "Yes. Gene had written telling me about that poem." Suddenly
looking up, she inquired: "Is that why Marianne is leaving High Cliffs?"
"Yes," was the reply. "Miss Humphrey is acting principal during my
absence and she has expelled the young plagiarist."