My trunk was packed and I had arranged with my senior partner--I was
the junior member of a law firm--for a month's vacation. Aunt Lucy had
written that her husband had gone on a sea trip and she wished me to
superintend the business of his farm and mills in his absence, if I
could arrange to do so. She added that "Gussie" thought it was a pity
to trouble me, and wanted to do the overseeing herself, but that
she--Aunt Lucy--preferred to have a man at the head of affairs.
I had never seen my step-cousin, Augusta Ashley, but I knew, from Aunt
Lucy's remarks concerning her, pretty much what sort of person she
was--just the precise kind I disliked immeasurably. I had no idea what
her age was, but doubtless she was over thirty, tall, determined,
aggressive, with a "faculty" for managing, a sharp, probing nose, and
a y-formation between her eyebrows. I knew the type, and I was assured
that the period of sojourn with my respected aunt would be one of
strife between Miss Ashley and myself.
I wrote to Aunt Lucy to expect me, made all necessary arrangements,
and went to bid Nellie goodbye. I had made up my mind to marry Nellie.
I had never openly avowed myself her suitor, but we were cousins, and
had grown up together, so that I knew her well enough to be sure of my
ground. I liked her so well that it was easy to persuade myself that I
was in love with her. She more nearly fulfilled the requirements of my
ideal wife than anyone I knew. She was pleasant to look upon, without
being distractingly pretty; small and fair and womanly. She dressed
nicely, sang and played agreeably, danced well, and had a cheerful,
affectionate disposition. She was not alarmingly clever, had no
"hobbies," and looked up to me as heir to all the wisdom of the
ages--what man does not like to be thought clever and brilliant? I had
no formidable rival, and our families were anxious for the match. I
considered myself a lucky fellow. I felt that I would be very lonely
without Nellie when I was away, and she admitted frankly that she
would miss me awfully. She looked so sweet that I was on the point of
asking her then and there to marry me. Well, fate interfered in the
guise of a small brother, so I said goodbye and left, mentally
comparing her to my idea of Miss Augusta Ashley, much to the latter's
disadvantage.
When I stepped from the train at a sleepy country station next day I
was promptly waylaid by a black-eyed urchin who informed me that Mrs.
Ashley had sent him with an express wagon for my luggage, and that
"Miss Gussie" was waiting with the carriage at the store, pointing
down to a small building before whose door a girl was trying to soothe
her frightened horse.
As I went down the slope towards her I noticed she was tall--quite too
tall for my taste. I dislike women who can look into my eyes on a
level--but I had to admit that her form was remarkably symmetrical and
graceful. She put out her hand--it was ungloved and large, but white
and firm, with a cool, pleasant touch--and said, with a composure akin
to indifference, "Mr. Carslake, I presume. Mother could not come to
meet you, so she sent me. Will you be kind enough to hold my horse for
a few minutes? I want to get something in the store." Whereupon she
calmly transferred the reins to me and disappeared.
At the time she certainly did not impress me as pretty, yet neither
could I call her plain. Taken separately, her features were good. Her
nose was large and straight, the mouth also a trifle large but firm
and red, the brow wide and white, shadowed by a straying dash of brown
curl or two. She had a certain cool, statuesque paleness, accentuated
by straight, fine, black brows, and her eyes were a bluish grey; but
the pupils, as I afterward found out, had a trick of dilating into
wells of blackness which, added to a long fringe of very dark lashes,
made her eyes quite the most striking feature of her face. Her
expression was open and frank, and her voice clear and musical without
being sweet. She looked about twenty-two.
At the time I did not fancy her appearance and made a mental note to
the effect that I would never like Miss Ashley. I had no use for cool,
businesslike women--women should have no concern with business. Nellie
would never have troubled her dear, curly head over it.
Miss Ashley came out with her arms full of packages, stowed them away
in the carriage, got in, told me which road to take, and did not again
speak till we were out of the village and driving along a pretty
country lane, arched over with crimson maples and golden-brown
beeches. The purplish haze of a sunny autumn day mellowed over the
fields, and the bunch of golden rod at my companion's belt was akin to
the plumed ranks along the fences. I hazarded the remark that it was a
fine day; Miss Ashley gravely admitted that it was. Then a deep smile
seemed to rise somewhere in her eyes and creep over her face,
discovering a dimple here and there as it proceeded.
"Don't let's talk about the weather--the subject is rather stale," she
said. "I suppose you are wondering why on earth Mother had to drag you
away out here. I tried to show her how foolish it was, but I didn't
succeed. Mother thinks there must be a man at the head of affairs or
they'll never go right. I could have taken full charge easily enough;
I haven't been Father's 'boy' all my life for nothing. There was no
need to take you away from your business."
I protested. I said I was going to take a vacation anyway, and
business was not pressing just then. I also hinted that, while I had
no doubt of her capacity, she might have found the duties of
superintendent rather arduous.
"Not at all," she said, with a serenity that made me groan inwardly.
"I like it. Father always said I was a born business manager. You'll
find Ashley's Mills very quiet, I'm afraid. It's a sort of charmed
Sleepy Hollow. See, there's home," as we turned a maple-blazoned
corner and looked from the crest of one hill across to that of
another. "Home" was a big, white, green-shuttered house buried amid a
riot of autumn colour, with a big grove of dark green spruces at the
back. Below them was a glimpse of a dark blue mill pond and beyond it
long sweeps of golden-brown meadow land, sloping up till they dimmed
in horizon mists of pearl and purple.
"How pretty," I exclaimed admiringly.
"Isn't it?" said Gussie proudly. "I love it." Her pupils dilated into
dark pools, and I rather unwillingly admitted that Miss Ashley was a
fine-looking girl.
As we drove up Aunt Lucy was standing on the steps of the verandah,
over whose white roof trailed a luxuriant creeper, its leaves tinged
by October frosts into lovely wine reds and tawny yellows. Gussie
sprang out, barely touching my offered hand with her fingertips.
"There's Mother waiting to pounce on you and hear all the family
news," she said, "so go and greet her like a dutiful nephew."
"I must take out your horse for you first," I said politely.
"Not at all," said Miss Ashley, taking the reins from my hands in a
way not to be disputed. "I always unharness Charley myself. No one
understands him half so well. Besides, I'm used to it. Didn't I tell
you I'd always been Father's boy?"
"I well believe it," I thought in disgust, as she led the horse over
to the well and I went up to Aunt Lucy. Through the sitting-room
windows I kept a watchful eye on Miss Ashley as she watered and deftly
unharnessed Charley and led him into his stable with sundry pats on
his nose. Then I saw no more of her till she came in to tell us tea
was ready, and led the way out to the dining room.
It was evident Miss Gussie held the reins of household government, and
no doubt worthily. Those firm, capable white hands of hers looked as
though they might be equal to a good many emergencies. She talked
little, leaving the conversation to Aunt Lucy and myself, though she
occasionally dropped in an apt word. Toward the end of the meal,
however, she caught hold of an unfortunate opinion I had incautiously
advanced and tore it into tatters. The result was a spirited argument,
in which Miss Gussie held her own with such ability that I was utterly
routed and found another grievance against her. It was very
humiliating to be worsted by a girl--a country girl at that, who had
passed most of her life on a farm! No doubt she was strong-minded and
wanted to vote. I was quite prepared to believe anything of her.
After tea Miss Ashley proposed a walk around the premises, in order to
initiate me into my duties. Apart from his farm, Mr. Ashley owned
large grist-and saw-mills and did a flourishing business, with the
details of which Miss Gussie seemed so conversant that I lost all
doubt of her ability to run the whole thing as she had claimed. I felt
quite ignorant in the light of her superior knowledge, and our walk
was enlivened by some rather too lively discussions between us. We
walked about together, however, till the shadows of the firs by the
mills stretched nearly across the pond and the white moon began to put
on a silvery burnish. Then we wound up by a bitter dispute, during
which Gussie's eyes were very black and each cheek had a round, red
stain on it. She had a little air of triumph at having defeated me.
"I have to go now and see about putting away the milk, and I dare say
you're not sorry to be rid of me," she said, with a demureness I had
not credited her with, "but if you come to the verandah in half an
hour I'll bring you out a glass of new milk and some pound cake I made
today by a recipe that's been in the family for one hundred years, and
I hope it will choke you for all the snubs you've been giving me." She
walked away after this amiable wish, and I stood by the pond till the
salmon tints faded from its waters and stars began to mirror
themselves brokenly in its ripples. The mellow air was full of sweet,
mingled eventide sounds as I walked back to the house. Aunt Lucy was
knitting on the verandah. Gussie brought out cake and milk and chatted
to us while we ate, in an inconsequent girlish way, or fed bits of
cake to a green-eyed goblin in the likeness of a black cat.
She appeared in such an amiable light that I was half inclined to
reconsider my opinion of her. When I went to my room the vase full of
crimson leaves on my table suggested Gussie, and I repented of my
unfriendliness for a moment--and only for a moment. Gussie and her
mother passed through the hall below, and Aunt Lucy's soft voice
floated up through my half-open door.
"Well, how do you like your cousin, my dear?"
Whereat that decided young lady promptly answered, "I think he is the
most conceited youth I've met for some time."
Pleasant, wasn't it? I thought of Nellie's meek admiration of all my
words and ways, and got her photo out to soothe my vanity. For the
first time it struck me that her features were somewhat insipid. The
thought seemed like disloyalty, so I banished it and went to bed.
I expected to dream of that disagreeable Gussie, but I did not, and I
slept so soundly that it was ten o'clock the next morning before I
woke. I sprang out of bed in dismay, dressed hastily, and ran down,
not a little provoked at myself. Through the window I saw Gussie in
the garden digging up some geraniums. She was enveloped in a
clay-stained brown apron, a big flapping straw hat half hid her face,
and she wore a pair of muddy old kid gloves. Her whole appearance was
disreputable, and the face she turned to me as I said "Good morning"
had a diagonal streak of clay across it. I added slovenliness to my
already long list of her demerits.
"Good afternoon, rather. Don't you know what time it is? The men were
here three hours ago for their orders. I thought it a pity to disturb
your peaceful dreams, so I gave them myself and sent them off."
I was angrier than ever. A nice beginning I had made. And was that
girl laughing at me?
"I expected to be called in time, certainly," I said stiffly. "I am
not accustomed to oversleep myself. I promise it will not occur
again."
My dignity was quite lost on Gussie. She peeled off her gloves
cheerfully and said, "I suppose you'd like some breakfast. Just wait
till I wash my hands and I'll get you some. Then if you're pining to
be useful you can help me take up these geraniums."
There was no help for it. After I had breakfasted I went, with many
misgivings. We got on fairly well, however. Gussie was particularly
lively and kept me too busy for argument. I quite enjoyed the time and
we did not quarrel until nearly the last, when we fell out bitterly
over some horticultural problem and went in to dinner in sulky
silence. Gussie disappeared after dinner and I saw no more of her. I
was glad of this, but after a time I began to find it a little dull.
Even a dispute would have been livelier. I visited the mills, looked
over the farm, and then carelessly asked Aunt Lucy where Miss Ashley
was. Aunt Lucy replied that she had gone to visit a friend and would
not be back till the next day.
This was satisfactory, of course, highly so. What a relief it was to
be rid of that girl with her self-assertiveness and independence. I
said to myself that I hoped her friend would keep her for a week. I
forgot to be disappointed that she had not when, next afternoon, I saw
Gussie coming in at the gate with a tolerably large satchel and an
armful of golden rod. I sauntered down to relieve her, and we had a
sharp argument under way before we were halfway up the lane. As usual
Gussie refused to give in that she was wrong.
Her walk had brought a faint, clear tint to her cheeks and her
rippling dusky hair had half slipped down on her neck. She said she
had to make some cookies for tea and if I had nothing better to do I
might go and talk to her while she mixed them. It was not a gracious
invitation but I went, rather than be left to my own company.
By the end of the week I was as much at home at Ashley Mills as if I
had lived there all my life. Gussie and I were thrown together a good
deal, for lack of other companions, and I saw no reason to change my
opinion of her. She could be lively and entertaining when she chose,
and at times she might be called beautiful. Still, I did not approve
of her--at least I thought so, most of the time. Once in a while came
a state of feeling which I did not quite understand.
One evening I went to prayer meeting with Aunt Lucy and Gussie. I had
not seen the minister of Ashley Mills before, though Gussie and her
mother seemed to know him intimately. I had an idea that he was old
and silvery-haired and benevolent-looking. So I was rather surprised
to find him as young as myself--a tall, pale, intellectual-looking
man, with a high, white brow and dark, earnest eyes--decidedly
attractive.
I was still more surprised when, after the service, he joined Gussie
at the door and went down the steps with her. I felt distinctly
ill-treated as I fell back with Aunt Lucy. There was no reason why I
should--none; it ought to have been a relief. Rev. Carroll Martin had
every right to see Miss Ashley home if he chose. Doubtless a girl who
knew all there was to be known about business, farming, and milling,
to say nothing of housekeeping and gardening, could discuss theology
also. It was none of my business.
I don't know what kept me awake so late that night. As a consequence I
overslept myself. I had managed to redeem my reputation on this point,
but here it was lost again. I felt cross and foolish and cantankerous
when I went out.
There was some unusual commotion at the well. It was an old-fashioned
open one, with a chain and windlass. Aunt Lucy was peering anxiously
down its mouth, from which a ladder was sticking. Just as I got there
Gussie emerged from its depths with a triumphant face. Her skirt was
muddy and draggled, her hair had tumbled down, and she held a dripping
black cat.
"Coco must have fallen into the well last night," she explained, as I
helped her to the ground. "I missed him at milking-time, and when I
came to the well this morning I heard the most ear-splitting yowls
coming up from it. I couldn't think where he could possibly be, for
the water was quite calm, until I saw he had crept into a little
crevice in the stones on the side. So I got a ladder and went down
after him."
"You should have called me," I said sourly. "You might have killed
yourself, going down there."
"And Coco might have tumbled in and drowned while you were getting
up," retorted Gussie. "Besides, what was the need? I could go down as
well as you."
"No doubt," I said, more sharply than I had any business to. "I don't
dream of disputing your ability to do anything you may take it into
your head to do. Most young ladies are not in the habit of going down
wells, however."
"Perhaps not," she rejoined, with freezing calmness. "But, as you may
have discovered, I am not 'most young ladies.' I am myself, Augusta
Ashley, and accountable to nobody but myself if I choose to go down
the well every day for pure love of it."
She walked off in her wet dress with her muddy cat. Gussie Ashley was
the only girl I ever saw who could be dignified under such
circumstances.
I was in a very bad humour with myself as I went off to see about
having the well cleaned out. I had offended Gussie and I knew she
would not be easily appeased. Nor was she. For a week she kept me
politely, studiously, at a distance, in spite of my most humble
advances. Rev. Carroll was a frequent caller, ostensibly to make
arrangements about a Sunday school they were organizing in a poor part
of the community. Gussie and he held long conversations on this
enthralling subject. Then Gussie went on another visit to her friend,
and when she came back so did Rev. Carroll.
One calm, hazy afternoon I was coming slowly up from the mills.
Happening to glance at the kitchen roof, I gasped. It was on fire in
one place. Evidently the dry shingles had caught fire from a spark.
There was not a soul about save Gussie, Aunt Lucy, and myself. I
dashed wildly into the kitchen, where Gussie was peeling apples.
"The house is on fire," I exclaimed. Gussie dropped her knife and
turned pale.
"Don't wake Mother," was all she said, as she snatched a bucket of
water from the table. The ladder was still lying by the well. In a
second I had raised it to the roof and, while Gussie went up it like a
squirrel and dashed the water on the flames, I had two more buckets
ready for her.
Fortunately the fire had made little headway, though a few minutes
more would have given it a dangerous start. The flames hissed and died
out as Gussie threw on the water, and in a few seconds only a small
black hole in the shingles remained. Gussie slid down the ladder. She
trembled in every limb, but she put out her wet hand to me with a
faint, triumphant smile. We shook hands across the ladder with a
cordiality never before expressed.
For the next week, in spite of Rev. Carroll, I was happy when I
thought of Gussie and miserable when I thought of Nellie. I held
myself in some way bound to her and--was she not my ideal?
Undoubtedly!
One day I got a letter from my sister. It was long and newsy, and the
eighth page was most interesting.
"If you don't come home and look after Nellie," wrote Kate, "you'll
soon not have her to look after. You remember that old lover of hers,
Rod Allen? Well, he's home from the west now, immensely rich, they
say, and his attentions to Nellie are the town talk. I think she likes
him too. If you bury yourself any longer at Ashley Mills I won't be
responsible for the consequences."
This lifted an immense weight from my mind, but the ninth page hurled
it back again.
"You never say anything of Miss Ashley in your letters. What is she
like--young or old, ugly or pretty, clever or dull? I met a lady
recently who knows her and thinks she is charming. She also said Miss
Ashley was to be married soon to Rev. Something-or-Other. Is it true?"
Aye, was it? Quite likely. Kate's letter made a very miserable man of
me. Gussie found me a dull companion that day. After several vain
attempts to rouse me to interest she gave it up.
"There's no use talking to you," she said impatiently. "I believe you
are homesick. That letter you got this morning looked suspicious.
Anyhow, I hope you'll get over it before I get back."
"Are you going away again?" I asked.
"Yes. I am going to stay a few days with Flossie." Flossie was that
inseparable chum of hers.
"You seem to spend a good deal of your time with her," I remarked
discontentedly.
Gussie opened her eyes at my tone.
"Why, of course," she said. "Flossie and I have always been chums. And
she needs me more than ever just now, for she is awfully busy. She is
to be married next month."
"Oh, I see--and you--"
"I'm to be bridesmaid, of course, and we've heaps to do. Flossie
wanted to wait until Christmas, but Mr. Martin is in a--"
"Mr. Martin," I interrupted. "Is Mr. Martin going to marry your
friend?"
"Why, yes. Didn't you know? They just suit each other. There he comes
now. He's going to drive me over, and I'm not ready. Talk to him, for
pity's sake, while I go and dress."
I never enjoyed a conversation more. Rev. Carroll Martin was a
remarkably interesting man.
Nellie married Rod Allen at Christmas and I was best man. Nellie made
a charming little bride, and Rod fairly worshipped her. My own wedding
did not come off until spring, as Gussie said she could not get ready
before that.