scene this same night with Winston Graham in tow. This gentleman's
astonishment was only exceeded by his willingness to follow Madelaine
anywhere. He professed some interest in baskets, whereupon Marion gave
him a seat beside Miss Martin.
"'The rich and the poor meet together, the Lord is the maker of them
all,'" Miss Sarah quoted to Miss Virginia.
"What do you call this place, Miss Pennington? It isn't really a
shop--you don't sell things?" asked Mr. Graham, when, a little later,
Norah came to the rescue.
"Why, of course we do. How else could we make a living? And it has
several names," she replied. "Has Alex told you the latest," turning
to Judge Russell. "She saw Mammy Belle on the corner one morning,
gazing over here with all her eyes. 'It shorely do look like a
_Norah's Ark_, Miss Alex,' she said. And really there is no doubt
about its resembling an ark although we had none of us thought of it;
and while I can't claim exclusive proprietorship, I accept the honor
of having it named for me. What do you think of it?"
The old gentleman glanced about him. "It is not nearly poetic enough,
my dear," he said.
Norah laughed at this gallant speech. "You see," she went on, "we are
simply reviving a cosey old custom of living over the shop, which
should interest you as a lover of old things."
"And also of young things--if you will pardon the expression," said
the judge, smiling.
"Why, grandfather," cried Alex, "I shall be afraid to bring you
again."
"I expect to wake some morning and find the shop has disappeared,
leaving no trace of itself," Miss Sarah remarked.
"I trust not," exclaimed Norah. "Where would we be?"
"An enchanted prince would have carried you off," laughed Charlotte.
"Two princes," suggested Miss Virginia.
A sudden gravity fell on Norah, so noticeable that Miss Sarah said, as
she turned away, "She seems not to like the idea of the prince."
* * * * *
The days grew long, the air soft and warm; the Terrace gardens bloomed
again and the rich foliage of summer succeeded the delicate lace-work
of spring. The Russell house was again a Palace Beautiful in its
mantle of vines, and the judge sat on the rustic bench beneath the
Ginkgo tree, his hands on his stick and a faraway look in his eyes.
Every moment that could be spared from the shop found Marion and
Norah off to the country, to return laden with fragrant trophies. The
delicate look had gone from Marion's face, and the disfiguring glasses
were rarely seen.
One evening in May an unexpected visitor appeared in the shop. A tall,
wiry man, past middle age, with a keen, kindly face.
"Why, Dr. Baird!" cried Norah, "I was just wishing for you."
"You were?" he said, shaking hands. "Anything wrong with my patient?"
"Here she is, to speak for herself," said Marion, entering from the
next room.
The physician looked at her long and intently. "I give up," he said at
length. "It has worked. You are all right, and"--turning to Norah--"I
suppose you think you are very clever, miss. Your wild-goose scheme
has been a success."
"You shall not call it names, for it has been the happiest winter of
my life," said Marion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH
AN ANNIVERSARY
"Miss Marion, are you here? I am so glad to see you! I have something
to show you. Where is Miss Norah?" Charlotte punctuated her breathless
remarks with an ardent embrace.
"Why, Charlotte, how rosy you look, and I believe you have grown two
inches!" Miss Carpenter had risen to meet her, and now took the brown
face in both her hands and smiled into the blue eyes. "It is good to
see you again. When did you get home?"
"Early this morning; and now Aunt Virginia has everything out of our
trunks--you would think there had been ten instead of two--and she and
Martha are putting away, so I ran," Charlotte answered gayly.
It was September again. The shop, which had been closed for a month
while its proprietors took a holiday, had reopened, but the days were
still warm, and little was doing. This afternoon, with its shaded
windows and its autumn decorations of goldenrod and asters, it looked
cool and inviting.
Marion, who had been reading when Charlotte entered, laid her book on
the table and motioned to a place beside her in the window-seat. "What
have you to show me?" she asked.
"You'll never guess, so I shall have to tell you. And, oh, Miss
Marion, I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid."
"Am I so very formidable? I can't imagine what it can be. I'll promise
not to answer if I do not like the question."
"It isn't that," cried Charlotte. "It is nothing I want you to tell
me, it is something I want you to do."
"Then I am more puzzled than ever. Do let me see what you have. Is it
a book?"
For answer Charlotte slipped the outer cover from a small green and
gold volume and put it into Marion's hand, drawing near and leaning
against her shoulder as she did so. "It is Cousin Frank's book," she
said. "It came while he was with us at Rocky Point. He gave me the
very first. Isn't it a dear?"
Marion turned the leaves in silence. "Love's Reason, and Other Poems,"
the title-page said. She turned another leaf, "To One Far Away," was
the dedication. She paused here for a moment, then went on turning the
pages.
"It is a very pretty little book," she said, in a tone that seemed to
Charlotte less interested than the occasion called for.
"I thought you'd like it, because I have talked to you so much about
Cousin Frank. And, oh, Miss Marion, it is about Miss Carpenter I want
to ask you." Charlotte's head was against Marion's arm, and she did
not lift her eyes.
"It was one evening when Cousin Frank and I were sitting on the sand
in the moonlight. Some man--I forget his name, but at any rate he is a
great critic--stopped us as we were leaving the hotel, to say
something very nice about the poems; and I asked Cousin Frank if he
were not pleased. He said he was glad, of course, to have it liked,
and he valued this man's judgment; but that after all it was for the
opinion of just one person he cared the most. I was certain it must be
Miss Carpenter, because of the dedication,--that couldn't mean any one
else; so I said I knew she must like it. He looked at me in such a
funny way and asked what I meant. So I told him what I had guessed,
and he did not seem to mind.
"I asked if he had sent her a book, but he said he did not know where
she was, and the only person who did know was away, too. Then for a
long time he did not say anything; but after a while I slipped my hand
in his, and told him I knew she must care,--she couldn't help
it,--although I hadn't any idea why she had gone away without letting
him know where she was.
"He said if he were sure she did not care at all, he would give it up,
for that would be the only manly thing; but until he was sure, he must
hope. It was then I began to wonder if you knew where she was, Miss
Marion. If you do, couldn't you tell her how much he cares? I don't
see why she went away; but Cousin Frank said she had a reason,
although he didn't think it was a good one. Could you tell her, Miss
Marion?"
"Did you ever say anything to Mr. Landor about the shop or--" Marion
left the question unfinished.
"Yes, that very evening I told him I was certain my Miss Carpenter was
lovelier than his." Charlotte squeezed the hand she held. "He smiled,
and asked a great many questions. But could you tell her?" Charlotte
was nothing if not persistent.
This Miss Carpenter, of whom she had grown so fond, was a quiet
person, not given to demonstration of any sort, but Charlotte suddenly
felt herself drawn into a close embrace, while a very gentle voice
said in her ear: "Charlotte, you may tell him I _know_ she cares. I
think she was right to go away--she had a reason, but--"
"What is going on here?" broke in Norah's gay tones. "Why, Charlotte,
how are you? You two look as if you had been in mischief."
A moment later who should walk in but Mrs. Leigh, looking like an old
ivory portrait, her apple-blossom face framed in silver puffs and
white frills. "Are you at home, and ready to show your pretty things?
Upon my word, I am glad to see the shop open again. We have missed
you."
"Thank you, dear Mrs. Leigh; we are glad to be back again," said
Norah, greeting her cordially, while Marion pushed forward a chair
and Charlotte brought a cushion.
Mrs. Leigh adored to be waited upon; she beamed graciously on the
three. "Thank you, my dears. This is a charming place, and I must say
I didn't expect to see you here again."
"Why not? We had no idea of not coming back," Marion said.
"Oh, I have never believed it would last," Mrs. Leigh's bright eyes
twinkled. "You are too--well, there is a mystery about you, you know."
"I didn't know. How interesting!" exclaimed Norah, laughing.
"Well, I suppose there is no use in talking about it. You won't tell
me. Charlotte, when is your Aunt Caroline expected?"
"They were looking for her in a day or two," Charlotte replied,
putting on her hat as she spoke. She did not care to stay and listen
to Mrs. Leigh just now.
Marion caught her hand. "May I have the little book for a while?" she
whispered.
"I have a piece of news for you," announced the old lady, as Charlotte
disappeared.
"Madelaine Russell is engaged to Winston Graham. It is to be announced
this week. It will be a relief to her mother to have her well married,
and I expect she is getting what she wants."
"I think it is an excellent match," remarked Norah. "Winston is not a
bad fellow, and Madelaine couldn't be happy without money. Why, if
there isn't Mammy Belle!" she added, looking up.
In the doorway stood that dusky personage, arrayed not in her usual
starched calico and white apron, but in her Sunday dress of black,
with floating crêpe veil.
"Howdy, Miss Norah; howdy, Miss Marion. I des come to see how you all
was gettin' on. I'se tolable, thank you, ma'am. Yes'm, James
Mandeville's gone wid his mamma to see his grandpaw, and Marse Tom's
the onliest one lef'."
"Sit down and rest," said Marion. "Mrs. Leigh, you know Aunt Belle,
don't you?"
"Is that Belle Campbell? Of course I do. I remember you, Belle, when
you lived at the Graingers'."
"Yes'm, Miss Sally, I 'members you. Looks like you's mighty peart
yit." Mammy Belle smoothed the front of her skirt and then folded her
black gloved hands in her lap.
"Oh, I'm not good for much any more," answered Mrs. Leigh. "But tell
me, Belle, what made you leave the Graingers? I thought you were a
fixture there."
"Yes'm, I reckon I'd be living there yit, if 'twarn't fur ole Marse
Andrew. He done sassed me too much, Miss Sally. Aunt Judy she say,
'Better stay whar de pot biles hardes', Belle,' but I couldn't stan'
ole Marse Andrew."
"I had forgotten about Aunt Judy. Is she still living?" asked Mrs.
Leigh.
"Yes, ma'am, she's livin', but she is mighty porely."
"Isn't she very old?"
"Yes'm, Miss Sally, Aunt Judy's tolable ole. Look like she don' know
fur shore how ole she is. You knows Marse Andrew, Miss Sally? Well,
Aunt Judy say she war a little gal runnin' round when Marse Andrew was
bawn, an' dey tuk her into de house dat day to wait on ole Miss, Marse
Andrew's grandmaw, and it was corn-shuckin' time; so if you knows how
ole Marse Andrew is, you knows how ole Aunt Judy is."
These interesting reminiscences were interrupted by Alex and her
grandfather, who stopped at the door to welcome their neighbors back,
as the judge explained, his fine old face beaming with friendliness.
"What do you think Caroline is going to say when she finds us all
friends of the shop, Judge?" asked plain-spoken Mrs. Leigh.
"I am of the opinion that even Mrs. Millard will be unable to hold out
against it very long. You know she hasn't had our opportunities," was
the reply. "I have some new books to show you,--or some old ones,
rather,--Miss Norah," the judge added.
* * * * *
Norah had been sitting alone in the south window for some time when
Marion joined her.
"Where have you been? and what is that small green book you are
carrying about?" Norah asked.
Marion put it into her hand; as she did so, a paper fluttered out and
fell to the floor. Stooping for it, Norah's quick eyes read
involuntarily,
"I love her whether she love me or no,"
and something told her it was the valentine of last winter.
Marion's fingers closed over it. "Charlotte brought me the book," she
explained; "but don't try to read by this light."
"I shall not read much; I want to see what it is."
There was silence for some minutes; then Norah put an arm around her
friend. "Marion, I have been thinking I'd ask Alex to be my partner
when you go." Try as she would, there was a little break on that last
word.
"Why, Norah!"
"No, let me finish. You know a shop is not the station to which you
are called, dear. I see clearly that the fairy prince is coming, and
there is no reason why he should not." Norah pressed her cheek against
Marion's. "Do you realize this is the anniversary of our coming here?"
"It seems to me you are very ready to give me up," said Marion.
"Oh, Marion!"
"Forgive me, dear, I know you aren't. That was not fair. But I don't
know--I can't talk about it now. I feel drawn two ways, and I am
jealous of Alex when I think of her in my place."
"I don't want you to be altogether glad, but I am proud of what the
shop has done for you. And of course I have known all along it could
not last. We have had a good time, haven't we?"
"And it is not over yet," Marion said, pressing the hand she held.
"There is one thing that perplexes me. The time has come for
explanations, I suppose, and the situation seems a little melodramatic
and silly."
"Don't think about it, then. It will work out of itself. Does it not
seem strange when you look back to that evening when we first thought
of the shop, that it has really been tried and proved a success?"
"Indeed, it does. How miserable I was, and determined not to go
abroad, as Dr. Baird wished, but to stay there at home. Then you
declined to stay with me, Norah; and when I was in despair you
proposed the wild scheme of keeping a shop. I was interested at first,
but you don't know how often I would have given up if it had not been
for the fear of losing you. And now, Norah, I wouldn't give a hundred
thousand dollars for the experience."
"That is a good deal of money. I ought to be very triumphant that my
plan worked so well." Norah's tone was sad, however.
After the lamps were lighted Marion became absorbed in the little
book, bending over it with a pretty glow in her face. From the other
side of the table Norah watched her. After a while she rose and took
down the rainbow bag and drew out a card.
"If I make dark my countenance,
I shut my life to happier chance."
She pondered it. "That is true," she told herself, "and there is no
end to the beautiful things that may happen if only one is ready for
them."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH
WHAT IT MEANT
Charlotte walked slowly home. She wondered what Miss Marion meant.
"Tell him I know she cares." Charlotte had often noticed that Miss
Carpenter seemed not to be deeply interested in her Philadelphia
cousin, and now suddenly she turned around and was apparently
intimately acquainted with her feelings. It was a puzzle.
She sat down in one of the porch chairs to think it over, making a
pleasant picture in her white dress, with the feathery clematis for a
background, her blue eyes serious and thoughtful, as she rocked softly
back and forth. The old self-assertion which a year ago had shown
itself in attitude and speech had become softened now until it was no
more than a gentle independence.
She had toned down, Cousin Francis told her, with evident approval. In
spite of its tempestuous beginning, the year in the Terrace had in
great measure resulted as her guardian hoped it would.
Aunt Virginia's sweet refinement, Alexina's earnestness, Madelaine's
grace,--all these had had their influence; but most potent had been
her admiration--almost adoration--for Miss Carpenter. Charlotte had
made pleasant friends in school, but after all her happiest hours had
been spent in the Terrace, where a year ago life had promised to be so
dull.
Aunt Virginia joined her presently, dropping into a chair with a sigh
of satisfaction. "It is good to be at home again, and Martha and I
have everything put away," she said. "Where have you been?"
"Over to see Miss Marion, but Mrs. Leigh came in and I didn't care to
stay."
Miss Virginia rocked briskly for some minutes, then she remarked,
"There was something in your Aunt Caroline's last letter I did not
understand." Taking it from the envelope she unfolded it and glanced
down the page. "Here it is. 'I infer from certain hints you have
dropped at different times that you have not taken my advice in regard
to the shop--' I didn't hint, I only said--" Miss Virginia hesitated.
She did not recall just what she had said, but she knew she had by no
means revealed the true extent of her intimacy with the shopkeepers.
She went on with the letter. "'I have lately received some first-hand
information concerning these young women, who seem to have fulfilled
my prophecy that they would lose no opportunity to ingratiate
themselves. I fear you have been too credulous, my dear Virginia, but
I will not enter into the matter further till I see you.'
"I wonder what she means by 'first-hand information'?" said Miss
Virginia. "I know Caroline will never feel as the rest of us do, but
she can't know anything against them."
"No, indeed," Charlotte cried. "There isn't anything about Miss
Marion, or Miss Norah either, that is not lovely."
The thought of Marion's caress returned, and with it the question
whether she should tell Cousin Frank or not; for it occurred to her he
might think her officious to have spoken of the matter to a stranger.
If-- Charlotte became lost in thought again.
A good many miles to the northward two gentlemen were dining together
at the very hour when Miss Virginia and Charlotte sat on the porch and
watched the sunset without thinking of it.
"You have great reason to be pleased with the reviews of your book,
Frank," the elder man remarked, gratified affection in the grave smile
with which his gaze rested on his son.
"Yes, for the most part the critics are kind," Francis Landor replied,
drawing hieroglyphics in an absent manner on the cloth with the handle
of his spoon.
"But one thing is lacking," thought the father, his glance still
resting on the bent head. "The boy must come to something with such a
head," he had often said in his childhood; and now the belief was
likely to be justified. The face before him was showing the strong,
serious lines of maturity, yet he almost regretted the lost boyishness
as he noted them.
Suddenly Frank looked up. "I am thinking of going away for a week or
so," he announced.
A smile hovered about his father's lips. "May I ask in what
direction?--To see Charlotte?"
Their eyes met. "Yes, to see Charlotte," Francis answered.
"When do you go?"
"Sometime to-morrow."
"I wish you good luck, my son."
"So he, too, has guessed," thought Frank.
When he was alone, he took out a letter which bore evidence of more
than one reading. Its date showed it to be a year old.
"I am going away," the letter said, "to be gone a long
time,--at least a year. By then my fate ought to be
decided. I am trying to hope, as Dr. Baird assures me
I may, trying to live entirely in the present. It is
not easy, but how can I make any plans for the future
when a possible life of helplessness lies before me?
You are generous, and I know you will forgive if this
causes you pain. Forget--everything but that I am
always your friend,
"MARION CARPENTER.
"I have told no one where I am going, as it seems best to make as
complete a break as possible with my life here. Dr. Baird, of course,
knows."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH
A LETTER
"Really, Mrs. Millard, you have treated us very shabbily. It is nearly
a year since you left us."
"Ten months, Judge Russell. You are very kind to say you have missed
me. I had no thought of staying so long when I left, and I am
delighted to be at home again." Mrs. Millard stood in the
drawing-room, as composed and elegant as if she had not arrived from a
three days' railway journey only a few hours before.
It was a summer-like evening, doors and windows were open, and one
after another of the neighbors had dropped in, until Charlotte was
reminded of the evening a year ago when the shop was under discussion.
She felt a little shy in Aunt Caroline's presence, although that lady
was graciousness itself; and Wayland Leigh, who came in with his aunt,
joined her in the corner by the library door and wanted to know what
made her so quiet.
"Quite a party, isn't it?" he said; adding, "but where are Miss Marion
and Miss Norah?" Like Charlotte, Wayland always put Marion first.
"I don't believe Aunt Caroline would want them," she replied, smiling.
"To be sure, when she went away we didn't know them."
That others were also thinking of the shop was evident, for Miss Sarah
was now heard remarking, "You left us defenceless, Caroline, and we
surrendered soon after your departure."
"Yes, the shop has become a neighborhood institution," Judge Russell
added.
"I am more than surprised to hear _you_ say so, Judge Russell."
"But Mr. Goodman is the most remarkable convert, Mrs. Millard," said
Alex. "Just ask him his opinion of the shop."
"I do not wish to criticise, this first evening at home," Mrs. Millard
began graciously; "but as I have been telling Virginia, I cannot
understand the fascination these persons seem to have exercised over
you."
"But you know they are really charming young women," ventured Mrs.
Russell. "I objected to the shop as decidedly as any one until I found
out about them. Their popularity is not confined to this neighborhood,
and of course you know they are well connected."
"It is about that I wish to speak," interposed Mrs. Millard. "As you
may have heard, Miss Unadilla Carpenter, the half-sister of Peter
Carpenter, is a friend of my oldest sister. For years they have
corresponded; so when I heard from Virginia that these people claimed
to be related to the Philadelphia Carpenters, I took it upon myself to
write a letter of inquiry to Miss Unadilla. She was ill at the time
and some months passed before she replied. A few weeks ago I received
a letter, in a part of which you may be interested."
Mrs. Millard was evidently prepared for the occasion, for she at once
produced the paper in question.
"I shall be glad to hear it, but it can't alter my opinion of our
friends across the street," Miss Sarah said stoutly, at which remark
Miss Virginia visibly brightened.
Mrs. Millard paid no heed, but began to read. "'Of the Miss Carpenter
of whom you write I know nothing. She is not related to us. My niece,
May Carpenter, is my only connection of the name, as I am hers. Of my
niece I know little at present. Two years ago she had a long illness
which came near being fatal, since then I believe she has been abroad.
As to the young woman in question, I repeat we have no cousins.'" Mrs.
Millard looked around the circle in triumph.
"Of course," said Miss Sarah, "there are some things difficult to
explain; but the most difficult of all would be, how two young women
could come into a neighborhood and make it better and happier for
their presence, could nurse some of us when we were ill, and show
themselves in a thousand ways helpful and kindly and companionable,
and all with the utmost simplicity,--to explain how they could do all
this and yet be impostors, would be harder still. The good Book says,
'By their fruits ye shall know them,' and that is how we know the
shopkeepers."
Wayland clapped noiselessly. "Good for auntie!" he whispered to
Charlotte.
"I really don't remember Marion's saying she was a cousin of Miss
Carpenter," said Alex. "Perhaps we jumped to the conclusion."
Mrs. Millard's lips were parted to reply when an exclamation from Miss
Virginia caused all eyes to turn toward the door. From the awed
silence it might have been a ghost, instead of Norah Pennington in a
white dress, who stood there.
She could not but be conscious of the excitement her appearance
aroused. Her color deepened as for a second she felt herself the
object of the silent gaze of this roomful of people. She did not lose
her self-possession, however, and in another moment Charlotte was at
her side, and Miss Virginia had recovered her power of speech.
"I really came in search of Alex," Norah explained, a most engaging
impostor surely, as she smiled upon the assembly.
"Do you know my sister, Miss Pennington?" Miss Virginia's
embarrassment was painfully evident.