WHERE THE LILIES GROW
Two days of Alice's visitation passed like a summer breeze. The first
day they drove to the old mill and spent the entire forenoon gathering
lilies and watching the great wheel that dripped and clattered between
its moss-grown walls. It was a curiosity to Blanch, for never in her
life had she seen one of those old-time landmarks, now so rare. That
afternoon they drove to the mountain's top and saw the sunset, only to
be late home to Aunt Susan's tea biscuit and cold chicken, and having a
surprising appetite. The next day they made a picnic trip to another
mountain, leaving the horse half way up and walking the rest of the way.
At noon they returned, and beside a cold spring that bubbled beneath a
rock they opened their lunch baskets. Then they picked flowers, hunted
for wintergreen, and decked the horse and wagon with ferns and wreaths
of laurel,--only simple country pleasures, it is true, but they at least
had the charm of newness for two of the party. That evening they sang
all sorts of songs, from gospel hymns to comic operas, and Blanch showed
in so many ways that she admired her new-found friend that there was no
further restraint.
"I wish you would stay with me until my school begins, Blanch," said
Alice at the close of the evening. "If you knew how lonely I am, I am
sure you would."
"I might be persuaded to make a longer visit next summer," was the
answer, "if you will return this visit next winter; will you?"
"I won't promise now," answered Alice, "I am afraid I should be out of
place in your society. I'm only a country girl, you know."
"I shall feel hurt if you don't," responded Blanch.
When two girls who have known one another but four days begin using each
other's first names, it may be considered that they are growing fond of
each other. It was so in this case, and the remark that Blanch had made
the first evening to her brother was sincere.
In the goodness of her heart she had also refrained from wearing her
best frocks, fearing that Alice might feel herself overshadowed, and
that is an act of consideration of which few of the fair sex are
capable.
"I should like to see that schoolhouse Frank has spoken of several
times," she said a little later, "and that barefoot girl he told about."
It was the first allusion to his interest in her that Blanch had made,
and Alice colored; a trifle that did not escape her friend's eye.
"We will drive by where that girl lives to-morrow," responded Alice,
"and if you like, will call and see her. It would please her mother very
much, and really the girl is worth it. She is the most original little
old woman in my school."
The next morning when Frank and his sister were alone for a few moments
she said, "I am going to do you a good turn to-day, Sir Mahomet, and
have a headache," and, laughing a little, "if you are wise you will
improve your opportunities and persuade your 'Sweet Alice' to go after
pond lilies and leave me here. I noticed a most charming spot for a
_tête-à-tête_ on one side of that pond the other day, and I guess you
can find it if you try. It's a mossy bank under a big tree, and out of
sight of the old mill." Was ever brother blessed with a better sister!
But the wary Alice was not to be caught so easily.
"I could not think of going after lilies," she replied when he proposed
the trip, "and leaving your sister alone; and then it is almost too warm
to be out in the sun this morning. If she feels better this afternoon we
will go there when the sun gets part way down."
When Blanch obtained a chance she said to her brother with a wise look,
"Now I know why you couldn't coax your pretty schoolma'am to come to
Boston. She's too keen to walk into any trap, and I like her all the
better for it. But leave the matter to me. I'll give you a chance, and
when you see it, seize it quick, talk fast, and don't be afraid. She
won't allow herself to be left long alone with you while I am here."
True to her sisterly interest, Blanch kept quiet all the morning and
after dinner was the first to propose another trip to the lily pond. "I
am in love with that old mill," she said, "and I want to see it when the
sun gets down so it will be shady there."
When they reached the spot she at once developed an unusual interest in
the mill and began an animated conversation with the miller regarding it
and all its history.
"You two go after the lilies," she said when Frank had the boat ready,
"and leave me here. I'm afraid the sun on the water will bring back my
headache."
A wee little frown crept over the face of Alice, for she saw through the
plot, but she answered gayly, "All right, only your smiles will be
wasted on the miller. He is too old to appreciate them. We won't be
gone long," she added as she stepped into the boat. She surmised that
Blanch's headache was a ruse instigated by her admirer, and this sudden
interest in the mill's history only another, and, on guard ever,
determined to check any and all serious words from him. And now what
spirit of mischief had come over her? She joked and jested on all manner
of subjects--the boat, his rowing, Blanch's interest in the miller, and
her blue eyes sparkled with roguish intent. She bared one round arm to
the elbow, and pulling every bud and blossom she could reach, pelted her
cavalier with them.
"Did you learn that stroke at college," she asked, when one of his oars
slipped and he nearly fell backwards, "or is that the way a yachtsman
always rows?"
In response to all this he said but little, for he was thinking how best
to say what was on his mind. He had resolved to declare himself at the
first chance, and now that he had one his heart was like to fail him.
When he reached the spot Blanch had referred to he headed the boat for
the shore and as it came to a stop he said, "Let's get out and sit on
the bank, Miss Page. I want to rest."
"Oh, we must not stop," answered his tormentor; "it's almost sundown,
and besides, I want more lilies."
She made no move to arise, but kept prodding a lily pad in the water
beside her with one taper finger. By some chance, too, her broad sun-hat
was well down over her face. Frank was silent while he looked at the
piquant figure with half-hidden face and bare arm, sitting so near him.
One little foot peeped out beneath her dress, one hand held fast to the
boat while the other toyed with the green pad, and back of her lay the
still pond dotted with countless blossoms. Only the tip of her nose
could be seen, and beneath it two red lips about which lingered a
roguish smile.
His heart beat a little faster, and almost did it fail him.
"Won't you get out, Miss Page?" he asked at last, rather doggedly. "I've
something I want to say to you and--and it's nice to sit in the shade
and talk."
The break had come and she could evade him no longer. Without a word or
even a look she arose and, taking his proffered hand, stepped out of the
boat. And strange to say, he retained that moist hand as if to lead her
to a seat. Only a few steps up a mossy bank offered its temptation, and
with quick gallantry he drew his coat off and spread it for her to sit
upon.
"It's nice and cool here," she said, "but we must not stay long. Blanch
will be waiting."
In a way it was an unwise speech, for it recalled his sister's warning
to talk fast and not be afraid. As is usual with most lovers, he had
thought many times of what he would say, and how he would say it; but
now that the critical moment had come, his well-chosen words vanished.
He had remained standing, and for a moment looked at Alice as she sat
with hat-hidden face, and then his heart-burst came.
"Miss Page," he said in a low voice, "you must know what I want to say
and--and I've come all the way from Maine to say it, and can you--is
there any hope for me in your feelings? Is there just a little?"
He paused, but no answer came, only her head sank a trifle lower and now
even the tip of her chin was invisible beneath the hat. It may be the
movement emboldened him, for in an instant he was beside her on the
ground and had one hand a prisoner.
"Tell me, Alice," he pleaded, "is there any chance for me? Say just one
word--only one! Say 'yes'!"
The prisoned hand was at his lips now, and then she raised her face and
oh, divine sight! those blue eyes were filled with tears!
One instant flash of heaven only, and then a change came. Almost had she
yielded, but not quite, for now she arose quickly and turning away said
half petulantly, "Oh, please don't speak of that now and spoil our
visit. Let us go back to the mill."
But still he held the little hand, and as she tried to draw it away he
said pitifully: "Do you mean it, Alice? Is it no? Oh, don't let me go
away without one word of hope!"
Then she raised her one free arm, and resting it against a nearby tree
pressed her face upon it and almost whispered, "Oh, don't ask me now! I
can't say 'yes' and I can't say 'no'!"
"I shall believe that your heart says 'yes,'" he responded quickly,
slipping one arm around her waist, "and until you do say 'no' I shall
keep on loving you just the same."
But he had not won her yet, for she drew herself away, and turning a
piteous face toward him exclaimed, "Don't, please, say another word now,
or I shall hate myself as long as I live if you do!"
For one moment he stood dumfounded, and then it all dawned upon him.
"Forgive me, sweet Alice," he said softly, "for speaking too soon. I
believe I know why you feel as you do, and I shall go away hoping that
in time you will come to know my mother better. And since you have said
that you can't say 'no,' I shall anticipate that some time it will be
'yes.' Now we will go and gather lilies."
Then as he led her to the boat once more his arm stole around her waist,
and this time she did not try to escape its pressure.
When two days afterward the brother and sister were ready to depart,
Blanch put one arm caressingly around Alice and whispered, "Now
remember, you have promised to make me a visit next winter, and you must
keep your promise."
And poor Romeo, standing by, had to look the love that was in his heart
while he envied his sister her parting kiss.