NOT A MIRACLE
Madge was simply fatigued from her long journey, and not oppressed
with want of sleep, for in passing through uninteresting portions of
the country she had given herself up to repose. The sense of weariness
passed with the hours of night, and she was among the earliest
stirring in the morning. Long before breakfast was ready she had
her trunks partially unpacked, her mind meantime busy with plans for
immediate action. At last her healthful appetite so asserted itself
that she went down to the dining-room. Mr. and Mrs. Muir had not yet
appeared, and she strolled into the parlor, opened her piano, and
played a few runs. She found it sadly out of tune from long disuse.
As this was not true of her voice, she began singing a favorite German
song.
In a moment the house was full of melody. Clear, sweet, and powerful,
her notes penetrated to the kitchen, where the maids were busy, and
they stopped in spellbound wonder, with dish or utensil in hand. Mrs.
Muir listened with her hair-brush suspended, while methodical Mr. Muir
laid down his razor, and, going to the door, set it ajar. The song
poured into the room like an harmonic flood. Before the first stanza
was completed Mrs. Muir had on her dressing-gown and was stealing
downstairs into the back parlor, and as Madge was beginning again she
rushed upon her.
"Why, why," she exclaimed, "I thought Nilsson or Patti had got lost
and taken refuge here! Can it be you? You are nothing but a surprise
from beginning to end. When will the wonders cease? Are you sure that
you are Madge?"
"Yes, and equally sure that I am hungry. When _will_ you be ready for
breakfast? I've been up these two hours."
"Well, well, well, what will Graydon say? He thinks you are still
little better than a ghost."
"He will say that I have been very sensible, and he will find me very
substantial and matter-of-fact. The question now uppermost is,
When will breakfast be ready?" cried the young girl, laughing, in
a childlike enjoyment of her sister's wonder, and a loving woman's
anticipation of triumph over the man who had once called her "weak and
lackadaisical."
She responded warmly to the embrace of Mrs. Muir, who added, "You have
come back to us a princess. Why, even Henry, whom nothing moves out of
the even tenor of his way, paused in his shaving, and with one side of
his face all lathered opened the door to listen."
"You tell him," cried Madge, in merry vein, "that he has given me
the greatest compliment I ever received. But compliments are not
breakfast."
Mrs. Muir returned to complete her toilet, and her husband soon
appeared.
"Madge," he said, greeting her kindly, "you have brought about great
changes. How have you accomplished them all in so brief a time?"
"The time has not been so very brief," she replied. "I have been away
over two years, remember. It's all very simple, Henry. I went to work
to get well and to learn something, as you give your mind and time to
business. In the Waylands, my old German professor, and especially
in the magnificent climate I had splendid allies. And you know I
had nothing else to do. One can do a great deal in two years with
sufficient motive and steady effort toward a few points."
"What was your motive, Madge?"
A slow, deep color stole into her face, but she looked unflinchingly
into his eyes as she asked, "Was not the hope of being what I am
to-day, compared with what I was, sufficient motive?"
"Yes," he replied, thoughtfully, "it was; but it appears strange to
me that more girls do not show your sense. Nine-tenths of the pallid
creatures that I see continue half alive through their own fault."
"If they knew the pleasure of being thoroughly alive," said Madge,
"they wouldn't dawdle another hour. I believe that I might have
regained health long before if I had set about it."
"Well, Madge, as your guardian I wish to tell you that I am deeply
gratified. You have done more for yourself than all the world could
do for you. I am a plain man, you know, and not given to many words.
There is only one thing that I detest more than a silly woman, and
that is a heartless, speculating one. Both are sure to make trouble
sooner or later. You certainly do not belong to the first type, and I
don't believe you will ever make a bad use of the beauty you have won
so honestly. Let me give you a bit of business experience, Madge. I
have seen men falter and fail by the score downtown, and usually it
was because women were playing the mischief with them--too often
women of their own households, who had no more idea of the worth of a
dollar, or how it is obtained, than a kitten. The one idea is to marry
for money, and then to spend it in parade. I believe you will be like
your sister Mary, who has given me a home, quiet, and peace." ("If I
ever give a man anything I'll give him a great deal more than that,"
Madge thought.) "And now," concluded Mr. Muir, "speaking of money,
I wish to go over your accounts with you soon, that you may know
everything and understand everything. It's absurd for women to be
helpless and dependent in this respect. You should know all about
your property, and the time has come when you should learn what
are regarded as safe investments, and what are not. My life is as
uncertain as any other man's, and I intend that you sisters shall not
be like two children, who must do blindly what some trustee tells you
to do;" and Mr. Muir complacently led the way to the breakfast-room,
feeling that as guardian he had done his duty both morally and
financially.
It was his way to speak plainly and promptly all he desired to say,
and then, according to his creed, if people had sense they would do
what was wise; if they had not, the less said the better.
Mrs. Muir was voluble during the morning meal. Now that Madge had come
again within the sphere of her domestic energy, she was fall of plans
and projects.
"Of course," she said, "you have nothing to wear. The outlandish
dresses that you had made at that jumping-off place in the West won't
answer. As soon as the Waylands have made their call we must go out
and begin ordering your summer outfit. Perhaps Mrs. Wayland will go
with us."
"Patience, Mary. We are not ready to order outfits yet."
"Why not?"
"Because we do not want to buy what interested shopmen and milliners
may choose to palm off on us. You live such a domestic life that you
are scarcely better informed than I as to the latest modes. We will
drive in the park, use our eyes on the avenue, and visit several
fashionable establishments first. Then I wish to find a dressmaker who
is not an idiotic slave of fashion, and who can modify the prevailing
styles by taste and appreciation of the person for whom she works. The
one whom I employ must make dresses for me and under my direction, and
not dresses in the abstract, as if they were for the iron-framed form
on which she exhibits her wares."
"Good!" cried Mr. Muir; "Madge's head is level. Let her have her own
way, Mary, and she will come out all right."
"Well," said Mrs. Muir, "I suppose it will take a little time for me
to get used to all these changes. Before she went away I used to
do everything for her. I'm going to have my own way in one thing,
however. You must not write to Graydon a word beyond the fact that
Madge is here. You have both laughed at me and my wonder, and
I'm going to have the compensation of seeing him transformed into
exclamation points."
Madge now turned toward Mr. Muir, and he could detect not the
slightest indication of embarrassment or overconsciousness, as
she said, "Certainly, Henry, you must not spoil this little bit of
prospective fun."
Madge did have her own way, and made her preparations with the quiet
decision and thoughtfulness which now characterized her actions.
The Waylands were frequent guests at Mr. Muir's home for a time, and
then departed to visit friends in the country.
Madge and her sister soon decided upon the Catskills as the place of
their summer sojourn. The choice of this region, so accessible from
the city, was pleasing to Mr. Muir.
"What are you reading?" he said, one evening, as he found Madge
surrounded by books and pamphlets.
"Reading up on the Catskills and their vicinity. A place is far more
interesting if you have associations with it, and I intend to be
versed in all the stories and legends of the region. In this I have a
little design upon you also. You look worn, Henry, and need rest and
change. You are too much devoted to business. I'm going to 'frivol,'
like the rest of the girls, in the evening--dance, and all that, you
know, but I shall try to keep you among the hills, and inveigle you
into long drives and walks by telling you exciting yarns that will
take the place of the dissipations of business. You needn't think you
will have to mope around the piazza, your body on a mountain and your
mind in Wall Street. You are getting old and rich, and you must begin
to take an interest in other things besides business."
"Now, that's thoughtful and kind of you," he said, and then he lapsed
into a revery that the contraction of his brow showed to be not
altogether agreeable.
At last he said, "Madge, I half believe you are right. I am and have
been too devoted to business. It's all very well as long as you can
drive it, but when it begins to drive you it is a hard task-master.
The times are bad. Instead of making anything, one has to use all his
faculties to keep from losing what he has made. It's getting to be a
grind. I sometimes wish I was out of it, but suppose I shouldn't know
what to do with myself."
"That's just it, Henry, you wouldn't. You must become interested in
other things, and that's a process which requires time, and I'll help
you."
"Oh, you," he said, laughing--"you will soon have all you can do to
keep your beaux at bay."
"Beaux in this free and enlightened land have only certain rights
which a girl is bound to respect. Should there be any, and they
unreasonable, you'll see," she said, with a little decisive nod.
Then she added, gravely: "I don't believe you would be content out of
business, but I should think there was such a thing as trying to do
so much business that it would become a burden, and, perhaps, a heavy
one. You may think I'm a little goose, talking of what I know nothing
about; but I've read a great deal, and, of late, books worth reading.
I don't believe it is a good thing to change one's habits and pursuits
suddenly; and what's more, Henry, I believe that when the times are
better business will be as great a source of satisfaction to you as
ever. As I suggested before, you must gradually become interested in
other things which can take the place of business as you grow old."
"What a wise little woman we have become!" said Mr. Muir. "Here you
are giving your guardian sound advice--you who, I imagined once, would
take no more thought for the morrow than a lily of the field, and a
very pale one at that. This is a greater change than any that Mary
exclaims about."
"Perhaps you think me very presuming," answered Madge, coloring.
"No, I do not. I think you very sensible, and I think myself very
fortunate in having such women in my household as you and Mary. I was
blue when I came home to-night, but it inspirits a man to talk to such
a girl. You have a power of good common-sense, Madge."
"Well, I have--I had--need of it."
"The majority would say you could afford to be silly. You have a
snug fortune of your own, of which not a penny can be lost unless the
bottom falls out of everything."
"I don't think any woman can afford to be silly. I know that's a
sweeping word with you, and covers all feminine folly. What I meant
is this: Money and every good thing in life was a mockery. I couldn't
enjoy anything, and wasn't anything but a burden. I saw it all, and
that I should have to throw nonsense overboard if I wished to be
different. You will find that I have plenty left, however, before the
summer's over. Now, let me read to you Irving's legend of poor old
Rip. What if you have read it often? A little infusion of the champion
sleeper's spirit is just what you need;" and with simple purity of
tone and naturalness of accent she made the old story new to him.
"Madge," he said, as he kissed her good-night, "that is even better
than your singing. I feel so freshened and heartened up that I'm
another man, and in good trim for the fight to-morrow; for that is
just what business has become--a regular defensive fight. You didn't
think two years ago that you would send me down to Wall Street with a
clearer head and better courage."
"No, indeed, I didn't dream of it, and I can scarcely believe it's
true now. You used to seem to me like gravitation, that would always
be the same to the end of time."
"Bah! A man is only a man, and he finds it out sooner or later.
There's Jack crying again, and Mary hasn't had a chance to come down.
I'll take the child, for his teeth make him so nervous that he won't
stay with the nurse."
"I'll try my hand at him to-morrow," said the young girl, and was
absorbed in her reading again.
The days passed quickly, and Madge filled them full, as before at
Santa Barbara. As the time approached for Graydon's return, she felt
a quiet rising excitement akin to that which inspires a soldier when
a campaign is about to open; but to her brother-in-law and sister
she gave only the impression of decision of character and youthful,
healthful buoyancy. She was good-cheer itself in the household, and
helpful in every little domestic emergency. The servants and the
children welcomed her like sunshine, and she made the evenings all
too short by music and reading aloud. She blossomed out in her summer
costumes like a flower, so becoming to her style had been her choice
of fabrics and the taste with which they had been fashioned. June was
passing. In a day or two more Graydon would arrive, and the fruition
or failure of her patient endeavor begin.