A HONEY BEE AND A HONEY FLOWER.
The Widow Gray had a very romantic turn of mind, and she had not
forgotten her young days yet, so it was easy enough for her to find out
that the two young folks were already deeply in love.
“And no wonder, either,” she said to herself, sagely, “for the two
beautiful young things seem to be made for each other.”
Accordingly, she helped out the romance all she could by insisting on
the girl’s coming every day to help while away the invalid’s lonely
hours, saying, cheerfully:
“For you know that just as soon as Mr. Chester gets well enough to be
going about he will be right up at Wheatlands, paying back your visits
two to one.”
Thus encouraged, Leola came and went daily, making long visits without
exciting any suspicion at home, for she was used to having her own way,
and no one interfered with her liberty.
It was quite a week that Ray Chester was detained at the cottage, for
although he made light of his injuries, he was very much bruised, and
felt stiff and sore, and the little gash on his temple was deep enough
to take some time in healing, and even then it would leave a scar under
his thick, brown curls that would always remain to remind him of lovely
Leola’s bravery in saving his life at the risk of her own.
But that week went away so quickly, so happily, in that golden June
weather, that when it was over they could not realize the lapse of days.
“It seemed like one exquisite day,” they said to each other.
The programme of their days had been something like this:
Leola called every morning on Rex, and remained until the midday meal
at Wheatlands. After appearing at this hour she slipped away again,
returning to the cottage and staying till she had to go home to supper.
Her regularity at these meals warded off any suspicion that she spent
the intervening hours in the company of a very charming young man,
who would render all Wizard Hermann’s schemes to marry her off to her
unknown suitor quite null and void.
After supper, then, came the lonely time, for Leola had to remain at
home and play to the governess on the piano in the dingy parlor, whose
faded hangings had not been renovated for years. As this had been a
yearly practice, she could not omit it without exciting wonder on the
part of the spinster lady who had acted as her governess and companion
since early childhood, and, now that school days were over, looked
after the housekeeping, staying on indefinitely, not seeming to have
either friends or suitors.
Yet, although she was over forty now, Miss Tuttle had not given over a
scarcely-concealed hope of marrying.
As she was very thin and tall, her secret choice had fallen on her
exact opposite, a neighboring widower about fifty, who was rather short
and very stout, and had recently come into a fortune by selling some
valuable coal-lands in Greenbrier county.
Miss Tuttle having been in love with neighbor Bennett when he was in
moderate circumstances, only loved him the harder when he became so
rich that he did not know how to spend his money.
Some neighborly kindnesses he had certainly shown her, but not as many
as she wished, and no amount of scheming had sufficed to bring him to
the point of proposing.
Thus absorbed in her own love-affair, it was no wonder that Miss Tuttle
paid small attention to Leola’s comings and goings, regarding her still
as a pretty child who had heretofore laughed at love and lovers.
So there were none to molest the lovers and make them afraid, for
Wizard Hermann, though he did not give over his scheme, held his peace
and went his way in cunning silence, giving Leola time to get over her
fright.
Even Doctor Barnes, who had not found it necessary to pay but three
visits to his patient, did not know of the romance going on at the
cottage, and being very busy with the measles, just then epidemic in
Alderson and the country round about, he had no time to gossip about
the stranger whose life Leola Mead had saved. As there were none who
knew Ray Chester, so there were none to worry over him; and beneath the
matronly chaperonage of kind Widow Gray their secret love bloomed into
a splendid flower whose strong roots only death could tear away.
“I love you, sweet: how can you ever learn
How much I love you?” “You I love even so,
And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you cannot know
How fair you are.” “If fair enough to earn
Your love, so much is all my hour’s concern.”
“My love grows hourly, sweet!” “Mine, too, doth grow,
Yet love seemed full so many hours ago.”
The lovers speak till kisses claim their turn.
“It cannot surely be a whole week; was it not only yesterday?” cried
the doting lover.
But Leola counted off the days to him on her rosy fingers.
“It was Tuesday when first we met--Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,
Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and now it is Tuesday again! And I
have been to see you twice every day, Ray! But to-morrow I cannot come
at all, for there is a horrid picnic to which Miss Tuttle insists on
taking me, and I cannot refuse lest she find me out.”
“Why, then, I shall go to the picnic, too. I adore picnics!” cried Ray
Chester.
“But you are not invited. It’s a Sunday school picnic, you see, Ray,
and you are not acquainted with anybody.”
“I’ll invite myself, and get acquainted with everybody there in less
than an hour,” he answered, gayly; and calling to Mrs. Gray, who was
watering her geraniums in the yard, he said:
“Aren’t you going to the picnic to-morrow?”
“Perhaps so--only I shall have to leave you a cold dinner,” she said,
hesitatingly, coming up to the vine-wreathed porch in whose shadow the
lovers were sitting.
“I’ll go with you if you let me!” cried Ray; “and you will introduce me
to everybody there as your new boarder.”
“And to Miss Tuttle in particular; and mind you show her much
attention, Ray, for then she will ask you to Wheatlands,” laughed
Leola, falling into the spirit of the thing, for it came to her
suddenly that by this means she and Ray could go on courting under her
guardian’s very nose without being suspected.
“Miss Tuttle is so vain she will easily think Ray is in love with her,”
she thought, merrily, and so they all laid their plans for to-morrow.
The picnic came off in a beautiful grove, and Widow Gray’s new boarder
kept his word, and got acquainted with everybody there inside of an
hour.
He was specially gracious to the smiling Miss Tuttle, who herself
presented him to Leola, saying:
“Miss Mead, the little girl to whom I have been governess over ten
years.”
The little girl bowed demurely, and said she was glad to meet Miss
Tuttle’s friend, and then she turned carelessly away, and was
particular not to interrupt his chat with the spinster until by his
assiduity he got the coveted invitation to call.