NEW BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY No. 110
MARGERY DAW
_BY_
BERTHA M. CLAY
[Illustration]
A FAVORITE OF MILLIONS
New Bertha Clay Library
LOVE STORIES WITH PLENTY OF ACTION
PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS
_The Author Needs No Introduction_
Countless millions of women have enjoyed the works of this author. They
are in great demand everywhere. The following list contains her best
work, and is the only authorized edition.
These stories teem with action, and what is more desirable, they are
clean from start to finish. They are love stories, but are of a type
that is wholesome and totally different from the cheap, sordid fiction
that is being published by unscrupulous publishers.
There is a surprising variety about Miss Clay’s work. Each book in this
list is sure to give satisfaction.
_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_
1--In Love’s Crucible By Bertha M. Clay
2--A Sinful Secret By Bertha M. Clay
3--Between Two Loves By Bertha M. Clay
4--A Golden Heart By Bertha M. Clay
5--Redeemed by Love By Bertha M. Clay
6--Between Two Hearts By Bertha M. Clay
7--Lover and Husband By Bertha M. Clay
8--The Broken Trust By Bertha M. Clay
9--For a Woman’s Honor By Bertha M. Clay
10--A Thorn in Her Heart By Bertha M. Clay
11--A Nameless Sin By Bertha M. Clay
12--Gladys Greye By Bertha M. Clay
13--Her Second Love By Bertha M. Clay
14--The Earl’s Atonement By Bertha M. Clay
15--The Gipsy’s Daughter By Bertha M. Clay
16--Another Woman’s Husband By Bertha M. Clay
17--Two Fair Women By Bertha M. Clay
18--Madolin’s Lover By Bertha M. Clay
19--A Bitter Reckoning By Bertha M. Clay
20--Fair but Faithless By Bertha M. Clay
21--One Woman’s Sin By Bertha M. Clay
22--A Mad Love By Bertha M. Clay
23--Wedded and Parted By Bertha M. Clay
24--A Woman’s Love Story By Bertha M. Clay
25--’Twixt Love and Hate By Bertha M. Clay
26--Guelda By Bertha M. Clay
27--The Duke’s Secret By Bertha M. Clay
28--The Mystery of Colde Fell By Bertha M. Clay
29--One False Step By Bertha M. Clay
30--A Hidden Terror By Bertha M. Clay
31--Repented at Leisure By Bertha M. Clay
32--Marjorie Deane By Bertha M. Clay
33--In Shallow Waters By Bertha M. Clay
34--Diana’s Discipline By Bertha M. Clay
35--A Heart’s Bitterness By Bertha M. Clay
36--Her Mother’s Sin By Bertha M. Clay
37--Thrown on the World By Bertha M. Clay
38--Lady Damer’s Secret By Bertha M. Clay
39--A Fiery Ordeal By Bertha M. Clay
40--A Woman’s Vengeance By Bertha M. Clay
41--Thorns and Orange Blossoms By Bertha M. Clay
42--Two Kisses and the Fatal Lilies By Bertha M. Clay
43--A Coquette’s Conquest By Bertha M. Clay
44--A Wife’s Judgment By Bertha M. Clay
45--His Perfect Trust By Bertha M. Clay
46--Her Martyrdom By Bertha M. Clay
47--Golden Gates By Bertha M. Clay
48--Evelyn’s Folly By Bertha M. Clay
49--Lord Lisle’s Daughter By Bertha M. Clay
50--A Woman’s Trust By Bertha M. Clay
51--A Wife’s Peril By Bertha M. Clay
52--Love in a Mask By Bertha M. Clay
53--For a Dream’s Sake By Bertha M. Clay
54--A Dream of Love By Bertha M. Clay
55--The Hand Without a Wedding Ring By Bertha M. Clay
56--The Paths of Love By Bertha M. Clay
57--Irene’s Bow By Bertha M. Clay
58--The Rival Heiresses By Bertha M. Clay
59--The Squire’s Darling By Bertha M. Clay
60--Her First Love By Bertha M. Clay
61--Another Man’s Wife By Bertha M. Clay
62--A Bitter Atonement By Bertha M. Clay
63--Wedded Hands By Bertha M. Clay
64--The Earl’s Error and Letty Leigh By Bertha M. Clay
65--Violet Lisle By Bertha M. Clay
66--A Heart’s Idol By Bertha M. Clay
67--The Actor’s Ward By Bertha M. Clay
68--The Belle of Lynn By Bertha M. Clay
69--A Bitter Bondage By Bertha M. Clay
70--Dora Thorne By Bertha M. Clay
71--Claribel’s Love Story By Bertha M. Clay
72--A Woman’s War By Bertha M. Clay
73--A Fatal Dower By Bertha M. Clay
74--A Dark Marriage Morn By Bertha M. Clay
75--Hilda’s Love By Bertha M. Clay
76--One Against Many By Bertha M. Clay
77--For Another’s Sin By Bertha M. Clay
78--At War With Herself By Bertha M. Clay
79--A Haunted Life By Bertha M. Clay
80--Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce By Bertha M. Clay
81--Wife in Name Only By Bertha M. Clay
82--The Sin of a Lifetime By Bertha M. Clay
83--The World Between Them By Bertha M. Clay
84--Prince Charlie’s Daughter By Bertha M. Clay
85--A Struggle for a Ring By Bertha M. Clay
86--The Shadow of a Sin By Bertha M. Clay
87--A Rose in Thorns By Bertha M. Clay
88--The Romance of the Black Veil By Bertha M. Clay
89--Lord Lynne’s Choice By Bertha M. Clay
90--The Tragedy of Lime Hall By Bertha M. Clay
91--James Gordon’s Wife By Bertha M. Clay
92--Set in Diamonds By Bertha M. Clay
93--For Life and Love By Bertha M. Clay
94--How Will It End? By Bertha M. Clay
95--Love’s Warfare By Bertha M. Clay
96--The Burden of a Secret By Bertha M. Clay
97--Griselda By Bertha M. Clay
98--A Woman’s Witchery By Bertha M. Clay
99--An Ideal Love By Bertha M. Clay
100--Lady Marchmont’s Widowhood By Bertha M. Clay
101--The Romance of a Young Girl By Bertha M. Clay
102--The Price of a Bride By Bertha M. Clay
103--If Love Be Love By Bertha M. Clay
104--Queen of the County By Bertha M. Clay
105--Lady Ethel’s Whim By Bertha M. Clay
106--Weaker Than a Woman By Bertha M. Clay
107--A Woman’s Temptation By Bertha M. Clay
108--On Her Wedding Morn By Bertha M. Clay
109--A Struggle for the Right By Bertha M. Clay
110--Margery Daw By Bertha M. Clay
111--The Sins of the Father By Bertha M. Clay
112--A Dead Heart By Bertha M. Clay
113--Under a Shadow By Bertha M. Clay
114--Dream Faces By Bertha M. Clay
115--Lord Elesmere’s Wife By Bertha M. Clay
116--Blossom and Fruit By Bertha M. Clay
117--Lady Muriel’s Secret By Bertha M. Clay
118--A Loving Maid By Bertha M. Clay
119--Hilary’s Folly By Bertha M. Clay
120--Beauty’s Marriage By Bertha M. Clay
121--Lady Gwendoline’s Dream By Bertha M. Clay
122--A Story of an Error By Bertha M. Clay
123--The Hidden Sin By Bertha M. Clay
124--Society’s Verdict By Bertha M. Clay
125--The Bride From the Sea and Other Stories By Bertha M. Clay
126--A Heart of Gold By Bertha M. Clay
127--Addie’s Husband and Other Stories By Bertha M. Clay
128--Lady Latimer’s Escape By Bertha M. Clay
129--A Woman’s Error By Bertha M. Clay
130--A Loveless Engagement By Bertha M. Clay
131--A Queen Triumphant By Bertha M. Clay
132--The Girl of His Heart By Bertha M. Clay
133--The Chains of Jealousy By Bertha M. Clay
134--A Heart’s Worship By Bertha M. Clay
135--The Price of Love By Bertha M. Clay
136--A Misguided Love By Bertha M. Clay
137--A Wife’s Devotion By Bertha M. Clay
138--When Love and Hate Conflict By Bertha M. Clay
139--A Captive Heart By Bertha M. Clay
140--A Pilgrim of Love By Bertha M. Clay
141--A Purchased Love By Bertha M. Clay
142--Lost for Love By Bertha M. Clay
143--The Queen of His Soul By Bertha M. Clay
144--Gladys’ Wedding Day By Bertha M. Clay
145--An Untold Passion By Bertha M. Clay
146--His Great Temptation By Bertha M. Clay
147--A Fateful Passion By Bertha M. Clay
148--The Sunshine of His Life By Bertha M. Clay
149--On With the New Love By Bertha M. Clay
150--An Evil Heart By Bertha M. Clay
151--Love’s Redemption By Bertha M. Clay
152--The Love of Lady Aurelia By Bertha M. Clay
153--The Lost Lady of Haddon By Bertha M. Clay
154--Every Inch a Queen By Bertha M. Clay
155--A Maid’s Misery By Bertha M. Clay
156--A Stolen Heart By Bertha M. Clay
157--His Wedded Wife By Bertha M. Clay
158--Lady Ona’s Sin By Bertha M. Clay
159--A Tragedy of Love and Hate By Bertha M. Clay
160--The White Witch By Bertha M. Clay
161--Between Love and Ambition By Bertha M. Clay
162--True Love’s Reward By Bertha M. Clay
163--The Gambler’s Wife By Bertha M. Clay
164--An Ocean of Love By Bertha M. Clay
165--A Poisoned Heart By Bertha M. Clay
166--For Love of Her By Bertha M. Clay
167--Paying the Penalty By Bertha M. Clay
168--Her Honored Name By Bertha M. Clay
169--A Deceptive Lover By Bertha M. Clay
170--The Old Love or New? By Bertha M. Clay
171--A Coquette’s Victim By Bertha M. Clay
172--The Wooing of a Maid By Bertha M. Clay
173--A Bitter Courtship By Bertha M. Clay
174--Love’s Debt By Bertha M. Clay
175--Her Beautiful Foe By Bertha M. Clay
176--A Happy Conquest By Bertha M. Clay
177--A Soul Ensnared By Bertha M. Clay
178--Beyond All Dreams By Bertha M. Clay
179--At Her Heart’s Command By Bertha M. Clay
180--A Modest Passion By Bertha M. Clay
181--The Flower of Love By Bertha M. Clay
182--Love’s Twilight By Bertha M. Clay
183--Enchained by Passion By Bertha M. Clay
184--When Woman Wills By Bertha M. Clay
185--Where Love Leads By Bertha M. Clay
186--A Blighted Blossom By Bertha M. Clay
187--Two Men and a Maid By Bertha M. Clay
188--When Love Is Kind By Bertha M. Clay
189--Withered Flowers By Bertha M. Clay
190--The Unbroken Vow By Bertha M. Clay
191--The Love He Spurned By Bertha M. Clay
192--Her Heart’s Hero By Bertha M. Clay
193--For Old Love’s Sake By Bertha M. Clay
194--Fair as a Lily By Bertha M. Clay
195--Tender and True By Bertha M. Clay
196--What It Cost Her By Bertha M. Clay
197--Love Forevermore By Bertha M. Clay
198--Can This Be Love? By Bertha M. Clay
199--In Spite of Fate By Bertha M. Clay
200--Love’s Coronet By Bertha M. Clay
201--Dearer Than Life By Bertha M. Clay
202--Baffled By Fate By Bertha M. Clay
203--The Love That Won By Bertha M. Clay
204--In Defiance of Fate By Bertha M. Clay
205--A Vixen’s Love By Bertha M. Clay
206--Her Bitter Sorrow By Bertha M. Clay
207--By Love’s Order By Bertha M. Clay
208--The Secret of Estcourt By Bertha M. Clay
209--Her Heart’s Surrender By Bertha M. Clay
210--Lady Viola’s Secret By Bertha M. Clay
211--Strong In Her Love By Bertha M. Clay
In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the
books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New
York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance
promptly, on account of delays in transportation.
To Be Published in July, 1923.
212--Tempted To Forget By Bertha M. Clay
213--With Love’s Strong Bonds By Bertha M. Clay
To Be Published in August, 1923.
214--Love, the Avenger By Bertha M. Clay
215--Under Cupid’s Seal By Bertha M. Clay
To Be Published in September, 1923.
216--The Love That Blinds By Bertha M. Clay
217--Love’s Crown Jewel By Bertha M. Clay
218--Wedded At Dawn By Bertha M. Clay
To Be Published in October, 1923.
219--For Her Heart’s Sake By Bertha M. Clay
220--Fettered For Life By Bertha M. Clay
To Be Published in November, 1923.
221--Beyond the Shadow By Bertha M. Clay
222--A Heart Forlorn By Bertha M. Clay
To Be Published in December, 1923.
223--The Bride of the Manor By Bertha M. Clay
224--For Lack of Gold By Bertha M. Clay
LOVE STORIES
All the world loves a lover. That is why Bertha M. Clay ranks so high
in the opinion of millions of American readers who prefer a good love
story to anything else they can get in the way of reading matter.
These stories are true to life--that’s why they make such a strong
appeal. Read one of them and judge.
MARGERY DAW
_A NOVEL_
BY
BERTHA M. CLAY
Whose complete works will be published in this, the NEW
BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY.
[Illustration]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
(Printed in the United States of America)
MARGERY DAW.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER I.
“Stand back there! Move aside! Good heavens! Can’t you see the woman
will die if you press about her in this way?”
The speaker bent over the lifeless form as he uttered these words,
and tried once more to pour a little stimulant between the pallid
lips. The scene was one of indescribable confusion. A collision had
occurred between the Chesterham express and a goods train, just a short
distance from Chesterham Junction. Five of the carriages were wrecked.
Fortunately, three were empty; and the other two contained only three
passengers--a man, who, with his arm bound up, was already starting to
walk to the town; a boy, badly cut about the head, leaning, pale and
faint, on a portion of the broken woodwork; and, lastly, a woman, who
lay motionless on the bank, a thick shawl spread between her and the
cold, damp earth. On discovery, she had been removed from the _débris_,
laid on the bank, and forgotten in the excitement and terror. The rest
of the passengers had sustained only a severe shaking and bruises; and
loud were their grumblings and expressions of self-sympathy as they
clustered together on the bank, shivering in the gray autumn mist. A
doctor, who had been summoned from Chesterham, ran his eye over the
assembled people, strapped up the boy’s head, and skillfully set the
broken arm of the man. It was while doing this that his glance fell
on the prostrate form lying on the grass; and the sight of the pale,
bloodless face immediately brought a frown to his brow.
“What is the matter here?” he asked a passing porter.
“Lady in a faint, sir.”
The doctor fastened the last bandage, and, with hurried steps,
approached the woman. A crowd followed him, and gathered round so
closely as to cause him to request them to “stand back.” His words
produced the desired effect, and the bystanders moved away and watched,
with breathless interest, his fruitless efforts to restore animation.
The frown darkened on the doctor’s brow; there was something more than
an ordinary faint here. He raised the woman’s head for another trial,
and the mass of red-gold hair, already loosened, fell in glorious waves
round the beautiful, pale face, bringing a murmur of admiration from
the beholders. The sudden action caused one limp, cold hand to fall
against the doctor’s warm one, and at the contact he shuddered. He
raised the heavily-fringed eyelids, gave one look, then gently laid
the woman’s head down again, and reverently covered her face with his
handkerchief.
“I can do nothing,” he said, tersely, as if speaking to himself; “she
is dead!”
The crowd drew back involuntarily; some hid their faces, while others
gazed at the slight form in its dark-brown dress as if they doubted the
truth of his statement. Suddenly, while the doctor stood thoughtfully
drawing on his gloves, one of the porters appeared in the crowd. He
held a child in his arms--such a pretty child--with hair that matched
the red-gold masses of the lifeless form on the bank, eyes that shone
like sapphire stars from beneath her curling lashes, and a skin of
cream white, with no warmth of color in the face, save that of the
small, red lips. She was dressed in a little gray coat, all covered now
with dust; in her tiny hands she clasped a piece of broken woodwork,
holding it as though it were a treasure, and she glanced round at the
bystanders with an air of childish piquancy and assurance.
“Whose child is this?” inquired the porter, looking from one to another.
There was a pause; no one spoke; no one owned her. The porter’s honest
face grew troubled.
“Where does she come from?” asked the doctor, quickly.
“We have just picked her from under the roof of a second-class
carriage,” the porter explained. “We were turning it over--you see,
sir, it fell some distance from the rest of the carriage--and when
we lifted it we found this mite a-singing to herself and nursing her
dolly, as she calls this piece of wood. It’s by Heaven’s mercy she
ain’t been smashed to bits; but she ain’t got not even a bruise. She
must belong to some one,” he added, looking round again.
A lady in the crowd here stepped forward.
“Give her to me,” she said, kindly. “Perhaps she was traveling alone;
if so, that will be explained, no doubt, by a letter or something.”
But the child clung to the porter, her pretty brows puckered, her red
lips quivering.
“Mammie!” she cried, plaintively. “I wants my mammie!”
The doctor turned and looked at the child, and at that instant she
suddenly wriggled and twisted herself from the porter’s arms to the
ground, and, running to the silent form lying on the bank, crouched
down and clutched a bit of the brown dress in her hands.
“Mammie,” she said, confidently, looking round with her great, blue
eyes on the circle of faces, all of which expressed horror, pity and
sadness; “Mardie’s mammie!”
The doctor stooped, drew back the handkerchief, and glanced from the
living to the dead.
“Yes,” he said, abruptly; “this is her mother. Heaven have mercy on
her, poor little soul!”
The lady who had come forward went up to the child, her eyes filled
with tears. She loosened the dress from the small fingers.
“Mardie must be good,” she said, tenderly, “and not wake her mammie.
Mammie has gone to sleep.”
The child looked at the still form, the covered face.
“Mammie seep,” she repeated; “Mardie no peak, mammie--be good,” and she
lowered her voice to a whisper and repeated, “be good.” She suffered
herself to be lifted in the kind, motherly arms, and pressed her bit of
wood closer to her, humming in a low voice.
“We must find out who she is,” the doctor said, his eyes wandering
again and again to the dead woman. “She must be carried to the town;
there will be an inquest.”
A passenger at this moment pointed to some vehicles coming toward them.
They could not drive close to the spot, as a plowed field stretched
between the railway and the road, and one by one the group dispersed,
all stopping to pat the child’s face and speak to her. The doctor
gave some orders to the porter who had found the child, and a litter,
formed of a broken carriage door, was hastily improvised. As the crowd
withdrew, he knelt down by the dead woman, and, with reverent hands,
searched in the pockets for some clew. He drew out a purse, shabby and
small, and, opening this, found only a few shillings and a railway
ticket, a second-class return from Euston to Chesterham. In an inner
recess of the purse there was a folded paper, which disclosed a curl of
ruddy-gold hair when opened, and on which was written: “Baby Margery’s
hair, August 19th.”
The doctor carefully replaced it. A key and a tiny, old-fashioned
worthless locket were the remainder of the contents. He checked a
little sigh as he closed the purse, and then proceeded to search
further. A pocket handkerchief, with the letter “M” in one corner,
and a pair of dogskin gloves, worn and neatly mended, were the next
objects, and one letter, which--after replacing the gloves and
handkerchief--he opened hurriedly. The lady, still holding the child
in her arms, watched him anxiously. The envelope, which was already
broken, was addressed to “M., care of Post Office, Newtown, Middlesex.”
The doctor unfolded the note. It ran as follows:
Mrs. Huntley will engage “M.” if proper references are forwarded. Mrs.
Huntley would require “M.” to begin her duties as maid, should her
references prove satisfactory, as soon as possible. “M.’s” statement
that she speaks French and German fluently has induced Mrs. Huntley to
reconsider the question of salary. She will now give “M.” twenty-five
pounds per annum, for which sum “M.” must undertake to converse daily
with Mr. Huntley’s daughter in French and German, in addition to her
duties as maid. Mrs. Huntley desires that “M.” will send her real name
by return of post.
Upton Manor, near Liddlefield, Yorkshire.
November 15th, 18----.
The doctor handed the note to the lady, who read it through quickly.
“That does not give much information,” he observed, rising from his
knees.
“Dated yesterday--received this morning. We must telegraph to this Mrs.
Huntley; who knows?--the poor creature may have sent her references,
with her full name, before starting from London.”
“Yes, you are right; we must do that. But what is to become of the
child? Are you staying here for long, madam?”
“No,” replied the lady; “I had intended to travel straight on to the
North. But I shall remain in Chesterham for the night, and continue my
journey to-morrow. I wish I could delay it longer; but, unfortunately,
my son is ill in Edinburgh, and I must get to him as soon as possible.
However, I will take care of this poor little mite to-night. I hope by
the morning we shall have discovered her friends and relations.”
“If you will do that,” said the doctor, “I will see to the mother. I
must have the body carried to the infirmary.”
He beckoned, as he spoke, to the porter, who was standing at a little
distance, talking to the crowd of natives who had arrived to clear the
line, and the dead woman was lifted on to the litter, and covered with
a rug belonging to the lady who had taken charge of the child. She
watched the proceedings with a feeling of unspeakable sadness, and, as
the melancholy burden was carried toward one of the cabs, she clasped
the child closer to her breast, and tears stole down her cheeks.
The baby, cooing to her strange doll, looked up as they moved across
the field. She put up one little hand and rubbed away a tear from the
motherly face.
“No kye,” she said, in her pretty, lisping fashion. “Mardie dood--she
no kye.”
The lady kissed the small lips.
“Mardie is a sweet angel,” she whispered; “and now she shall come with
me to a pretty place and have some nice dinner.”
“Din-din,” said the child, nodding her head with its wealth of
red-gold curls. “Mardie ’ungry. Mammie a din-din, too?”
The lady shivered.
“Yes, mammie will go to a pretty place, too,” she answered hurriedly.
When they reached the cab, the doctor came up to them.
“If you will allow me to suggest, The Plow is the best hotel. I would
come with you, but I must drive straight to the infirmary. Give me the
child for a moment while you get in. She has lost her hat, poor little
thing; but the town is not far off, and the best place for her will be
in bed.”
Mardie went willingly to the doctor’s arms. She prattled to him about
the “din-din” and “mammie,” but much was unintelligible to him. She did
not ask for her mother or seem strange. “Mammie a seep,” she asserted
several times, in a whisper; and she was content with the two kind
beings whose hearts were heavy with pain as they thought of the long,
dreary path she must tread henceforth without a touch from the loving
hands, or a word from the tender voice she knew so well.
“There, madam,” and the doctor placed the small, gray-clad form in the
cab. “This poor little mite cannot thank you herself; but, if you will
allow me, in humanity’s name to offer you gratitude----”
The lady stopped him.
“I have done no more than my duty. I thank you, sir, for your courtesy.
Will you kindly let me know as early as possible the results of your
telegram? I will go to the Plow; my name is Graham.”
“And mine Scott. I will certainly let you know the instant I receive
any intelligence. Something must be done with this child; but that is
for to-morrow’s consideration. She is safe in your hands for to-night.”
Dr. Scott raised his hat, and the cab started along the country lane
toward Chesterham. Mrs. Graham drew Mardie on to her knee, and tried to
chat to the child; but her whole nervous system was so shattered by the
events of the past hour that the effort was vain.
Chesterham was a large manufacturing town. The news of the collision
had spread rapidly, and, although the November dusk was closing in,
crowds were thronging to the scene of the disaster. Mrs. Graham leaned
back in a corner to escape the eager eyes, for she knew the story
of the young mother’s death would be known by now, and her natural
refinement and delicacy shrunk from vulgar curiosity and hysterical
excitement. The cab soon rattled into Chesterham, and, after a short
journey through the lamp-lighted streets, stopped before the door of
The Plow. Mardie was handed out to a pretty-faced chambermaid, whose
bright cap ribbon immediately claimed the child’s attention, and Mrs.
Graham followed slowly and wearily up the stairs, feeling her strength
go at every step. The babyish voice and shrill peals of laughter echoed
in her ears as the wail of future grief; her eyes were fixed on the
small form, but her thoughts were with the dead young mother.
She dismissed the maid when she reached her room, and, drawing Mardie
to her, began to loosen the gray coat, which bore traces of dainty
design beneath the dust and dirt. For the first time the child seemed
to feel her loss.
“Mammie undress Mardie,” she said, putting up one little hand. “Mammie
seep now, but wake soon.”
“Mammie would like Mardie to take off her coat like a good girl,” Mrs.
Graham replied, feeling instinctively that the youthful mind grasped
already the meaning of love and duty.
The child dropped her hand and nodded her head, then submitted to have
the coat removed. She was neatly dressed in a dark-red cashmere frock,
made loose like a blouse; she wore a tiny thread of gold round her
neck, with a little heart-shaped pendant suspended. Mrs. Graham took it
in her hand, eagerly hoping to find some clew; but, on turning it, her
eyes rested on a miniature of the mother’s lovely face.
“Mardie’s mammie,” exclaimed the child, taking it and kissing it--“dear
mammie!”--then, with infantile changeableness, she rushed with a little
shriek to the door, where a kitten had just appeared, and with great
delight picked up the downy little creature and caressed it.
The advent of dinner soon attracted her attention, and she prattled
away merrily in her baby language while the dishes were carried in.
Mrs. Graham forced herself to talk to the child, and tried to divert
her mind from its gloomy thoughts by devoting herself to the task of
tending the little one. She was not a young woman, and the events of
the day had proved almost too much for her nervous system; but with
true unselfishness she tried to forget her own troubles in ministering
to the tiny atom of humanity thrown so cruelly upon the world’s ocean,
with mayhap no haven or port of love and affection to look to.
She lifted Mardie on to a chair, and was about to give her some food,
when the door opened, and, looking up in surprise, she saw a lady,
young and handsome, attired in a riding habit, enter the room.