"Do you know where we're going?" said Mr. Bell delightedly. "Out to my
farm at Pine Pastures. My aunt keeps house for me, and she'll be real
glad to see you. You're just going to have a real good time this
afternoon."
They had a delightful drive to begin with, and presently Mr. Bell
turned into a wide lane.
"This is Cloverside Farm. I'm proud of it, I'll admit. There isn't a
finer place in the county. What do you think of it?"
"Oh, it is lovely--it is like home. Look at those great fields. I'd
like to go and lie down in that clover."
Mr. Bell lifted her from the wagon and marched her up a flowery garden
path. "You shall do it, and everything else you want to. Here, Aunt,
this is the young lady I spoke of. Make her at home while I tend to
the horses."
Miss Bell was a pleasant-faced woman with silver hair and kind blue
eyes. She took Jessamine's hand in a friendly fashion.
"Come in, dear. You're welcome as a June rose."
When Mr. Bell returned, he found Jessamine standing on the porch with
her hands full of honeysuckle and her cheeks pink with excitement.
"I declare, you've got roses already," he exclaimed. "If they'd only
stay now, and not bleach out again. What's first now?"
"Oh, I don't know. There are so many things I want to do. Those
flowers in the garden are calling me--and I want to go down to that
hollow and pick buttercups--and I want to stay right here and look at
things."
Mr. Bell laughed. "Come with me to the pasture and see my Jersey
calves. They're something worth seeing. Come, Aunt. This way, Miss
Stacy."
He led the way down the lane, the two women following together.
Jessamine thought she must be in a pleasant dream. The whole afternoon
was a feast of delight to her starved heart. When sunset came she sat
down, tired out, but radiant, on the porch steps. Her hat had slipped
back and her hair was curling around her face. Her dark eyes were
aglow; the roses still bloomed in her cheeks.
Mr. Bell looked at her admiringly. "If a man could see that pretty
sight every night!" he thought. "And, Great Scott, why can't he?
What's to prevent, I'd like to know?"
When the moon rose, Mr. Bell brought his team around and they drove
back through the clear night, past the wonderful stillness of the
great beech woods and the wide fields. The farmer looked sideways at
his companion.
"The little thing wants to be petted and looked after," he thought.
"She's just pining away for home and love. And why can't she have it?
She's dying by inches in that hole back in town."
Jessamine, quite unsuspecting the farmer's meditations, was living
over again in fancy the joys of the afternoon: the ramble in the
pasture, the drink of water from the spring under the hillside pines,
the bountiful, old-fashioned country supper in the vine-shaded
dining-room, the cup of new milk in the dairy at sunset, and all the
glory of skies and meadows and trees. How could she go back to her
cage again?
The next week Mr. Bell, senior, resumed his visits, and the young
farmer came no more to the side door of No. 49. Jessamine missed him
greatly. Mr. Bell, senior, never brought her clover or honeysuckle.
But one day his nephew suddenly reappeared. Jessamine opened the door
for him, and her face lighted up, but Mr. Bell saw that she had been
crying.
"Did you think I had forgotten you?" he asked. "Not a bit of it.
Harvest was on and I couldn't get clear before. I've come to ask you
when you intend to take another drive to Cloverside Farm. What have
you been up to? You look as if you'd been working too hard."
"I--I--haven't felt very well. I'm glad you came today, Mr. Bell.
Perhaps I shall not see you again, and I wanted to say goodbye and
thank you for all your kindness."
"Goodbye? Why, where are you going?"
"My brother went west a week ago," faltered Jessamine. She could not
bring herself to tell the clear-eyed farmer that John Stacy had failed
and had been obliged to start for the west without saying goodbye to
his creditors. "His wife and I--are going too--next week."
"Oh, Jessamine," exclaimed Mr. Bell in despair, "don't go--you
mustn't. I want you at Cloverside Farm. I came today on purpose to ask
you. I love you and I'll make you happy if you'll marry me. What do
you say, Jessamine?"
Jessamine, by way of answer, sat down on the nearest chair and began
to cry.
"Oh, don't," said the wooer in distress. "I didn't want to make you
feel bad. If you don't like the idea, I won't mention it again."
"Oh, it isn't that--but I--I thought nobody cared what became of me.
You are so kind--I'm afraid I'd only be a bother to you...."
"I'll risk that. You shall have a happy home, little girl. Will you
come to it?"
"Ye-e-e-s." It was very indistinct and faltering, but Mr. Bell heard
it and considered it a most eloquent answer.
Mrs. John fumed and sulked and chose to consider herself hoodwinked
and injured. But Mr. Bell was a resolute man, and a few days later he
came for the last time to No. 49 and took his bride away with him.
As they drove through the beech woods he put his arm tenderly around
the shy, smiling little woman beside him and said, "You'll never be
sorry for this, my dear."
And she never was.