OH, WILL I BE WELCOME?
There was a late luncheon and then the Major returned to his wife's
sitting room where Aunt Kate was keeping her company with some exquisite
needlework for her darling, Zay, who had insisted upon being left alone.
"I have a curious story to read to you that concerns us all. I am glad
to have you here, Kate, as a sort of ballast. It was what excited me so
this morning and I was very unreasonable. The doctor threatened to put
me in a straight jacket."
Aunt Kate laughed. Mrs. Crawford studied her husband intently.
"Oh, go on with your work. I shall feel more composed." He turned his
chair a little, ostensibly for the light, but so that his wife might not
watch his face.
He began with Mrs. Boyd's list of misfortunes after her few years of
happiness and her resolve to go out to her brother's. At times he
stumbled over the poor penmanship and halted.
"Why, it must have been the train I was on," interrupted Mrs. Crawford.
"I remember there was a woman with a delicate looking child. I believe
ours were the only two babies. Oh, if I had not taken my little darling!
But she was so well and strong, such a fine happy baby, and nurse Jane
was so good."
Mrs. Boyd had hurried briefly over the terrible collision.
"Everett," interrupted his sister with an indignant emphasis, "why
recall that awful happening. It can do us no good now."
Mrs. Crawford leaned her head on her hand and balanced her elbow on the
broad arm of the chair.
The Major's voice shook slightly. Mrs. Boyd had been quite graphic about
her calling for the baby, her care of it from midnight to the next
morning and settling her mind to what the woman had said; her resolve to
keep the child when she heard the other mother had been killed. She
sprang up suddenly.
"Oh, it was nurse Jane who was killed. And she took my baby, my darling.
Oh, who was she? Can we ever find her?"
Then she fainted and her husband caught her in his arms.
"Oh, you have killed her!" cried Miss Crawford. "How could you recount
that awful time of suffering, and that the woman should steal the baby!
Oh, that was just it, there's no use mincing matters!"
It was some minutes before Mrs. Crawford regained consciousness, then
she gazed imploringly in her husband's face.
"Oh, tell me--where is my darling? Is she really alive. Can we find
her?"
"She has been found. She is well and in good hands. Oh, my dear wife, I
felt vengeful at first, but I have come to pity the poor thing.
Marguerite pleaded for her. And we must be thankful that she had the
courage to confess the matter."
"Then--you have seen her?"
The voice was shaken with emotion.
"She is at Mrs. Barrington's."
"Oh, can't we go to her? My dear baby, my darling Marguerite! Why, it is
almost as if she had been sent from heaven."
"My dear--" her husband caught her in his arms or she would have fallen
in her eagerness. "Oh, it will all come right, but you must be patient
and get stronger. There are reasons why she cannot come, or you cannot
go, and you must hear the rest of the story."
"Everett," began his sister, "how do you _know_ but that this is a
scheme to extort money. How can you be sure it is your child? There are
so many swindlers or blackmailers in the world."
He was arranging his wife on the couch, thankful she had borne the
tidings so well. Then he seated himself beside her, bending over to kiss
the pallid lips.
"There can scarcely be any chance for fraud. No one would profit by it,
and now, shall I go on with the story?"
They both acquiesced.
There was something so pathetic in the fostermother's love for the child
and her fear of its being cast on the world as no one seemed to know
anything about the supposed mother. Then her return to her early home;
her struggles against misfortune, poverty and ill health, and after a
little, her dismay at finding the child so different from what she had
been herself, so ambitious, so longing for refinement and showing such a
distaste for common ways. The failure of her own health, the
impossibility of keeping the girl at school any longer when Mrs.
Barrington's proffer had seemed a perfect godsend. But it was too late
to recover the health that had been so shattered by poverty and hard
work.
"Well, if it _is_ true she was a courageous woman," declared Miss
Crawford. "One can't forgive her for taking the child without making a
single inquiry."
"But everything was in such confusion, and you will remember that
Marguerite lay unconscious for a long while, just hovering between life
and death. And at that time, in the western countries there were not so
many safeguards. When Dr. Kendricks reached the place, Jane and the baby
had been temporarily buried. Yes, it was easy for the thing to happen
when Mrs. Boyd wanted the baby so much. I can hardly forgive her, but we
must admit that the confession showed an earnest desire to repair the
wrong."
"Where is she?"
"At Mrs. Barrington's. Dr. Kendricks thinks she can last but a few days
longer and the child is resolved to stay until the end. I tried to shake
her determination but found it useless."
"I admire her for it," said Mrs. Crawford.
"I should doubt her fervent love if it could be transferred so easily
from poverty to wealth. Yes, I am proud of my dear daughter whom I have
not seen in fifteen years. But the whole story is marvellous."
"And yet there is nothing impossible about it. We can see how simply it
all happened."
"What is she like?"
"Mrs. Barrington was quite puzzled about a resemblance to some one, and
she thinks it you. She has not the radiant beauty of your girlhood,
neither has she the dazzling charm of Zay. Oh, I think she is the most
like Willard; rather too grand for a girl of sixteen, with a great deal
of dignity. Oh, you should hear Mrs. Barrington talk about her. And how
do you suppose she and the doctor kept the secret yesterday! They knew
it would disturb our happy Christmas. And _she_ was nursing the sick
woman."
"Oh, did she know?"
"Not that she was our daughter until this morning. I felt bewildered
over it all," and Major Crawford gave a deep drawn sigh.
His wife pressed his hand. Her tears were flowing silently.
"Well--it will be very strange to have her here," remarked Miss
Crawford. "But I warn you, Zay will always be the dearest to me."
Twilight was falling around them. Mrs. Crawford would never have her own
lights early. This was her favorite hour with her husband. Aunt Kate
stole softly to Zay's room and found her sleeping tranquilly, the fever
mostly gone.
"Oh, I wonder how you will take it," she mused. "You have been the
darling of the household so long."
For somehow, she was not in a mood to welcome this newcomer. True, there
must be the strongest proof or Major Crawford would not have been
convinced or allowed himself to get in such a passion with this Mrs.
Boyd. But a girl reared amid the commonest surroundings, enduring the
straits of poverty, lack of education, no accomplishments, how could she
take her place in the front rank of Mount Morris society? And the
boys--how would they accept this rusticity and probably self conceit?
Major Crawford and his wife often fell into tender and mysterious
confidences at this hour, that were never shared with others. They were
very happy in her recovery though the last two years she had suffered
very little. But she did not want to depute the care of her daughter
growing into womanhood entirely to Aunt Kate who had many worldly aims
and prejudices, and who was very proud of her niece's beauty. And now
such a load was lifted from her soul that had never quite forgiven
itself for taking her finest baby on the unfortunate journey.
"Oh, I must see her," she cried in a whisper.
"But she will not come here until all is over with that poor woman. I do
not see how she can care so much for her."
"My dear, it shows a true and strong regard. Remember it is the only
mother she has ever known. To turn at once would show a volatile
disposition. I have been afraid of that in Zaidee, who is easily taken
with new friends, though I will admit that she does not discard the old
ones. But I wish sometimes other people were not so easily attracted by
her."
"But she is charming," said the admiring father.
"I hope they will love each other. We must expect a little jealousy at
first. And you think she is not--that her narrow life has not dwarfed
her."
"Oh, you should listen to Mrs. Barrington's enthusiasm. You see, it was
not an easy place to fill, after all. She was in some of the classes,
but she held herself aloof. Then she taught a little among the younger
day scholars, and kept a certain supervision in the evening study hour.
Her mother's position was a sort of handicap, she was so very meek and
retiring. All women cannot add dignity to an inferior position, and
young people are very apt to take them according to the position. Mrs.
Barrington was planning some changes for the new term that would be
brought about by the passing away of the poor woman. I think she meant,
in a way, to adopt her."
"Oh, she must be worthy, to have made such a friend."
And the mother was wondering, but dared not ask what Marguerite had
grown into. She was not like Zay, all the coloring was darker. Willard
was fine looking for a young man, but would it not be rather masculine
for a girl? She had a fancy for the soft attractiveness in a woman.
Then the light came and dinner. Mrs. Crawford went to Zay's room
afterward and found her comfortable and better, with no recurrence of
fever, and they had a pleasant little chat.
The next morning a letter came from Phillipa, full of merry nonsense
about gifts and gayety and lovers. She was very well, with the very
underscored, and two engagements for every evening. She had not heard
from Louie, "but I should have if her little finger had ached; she
would have been afraid of some distemper. And I hope you are all having
a splendid time."
Afterward Dr. Kendricks came in. Yes, she was better, the throat was all
right; there was a slight remnant of the cold, and it would be best to
be careful for a few days. Oh, yes, she could dress herself and go about
the house, but not out driving.
"You danced a little too much Christmas night, though for the life of me
I don't see what you were so nervous about."
She flushed and laughed and felt that she had escaped a great danger.
Then he and the Major set out together, meeting Mr. Ledwith at the
school. The doctor went upstairs. Lilian met him with anxious eyes.
"Yes, there has been a great change. She has gone more rapidly than I
thought. Can she speak?"
"Hardly. Now and then a word. Yet she understands all that I say to
her," Lilian returned, gravely. "But she was quite restless during the
night."
He nodded. "You see, my dear Miss Boyd--you will be that until you take
your new name, the confession has no signature. It might never be
called in question but sometimes, years afterward, in the various
changes of property, it might be necessary to establish a legal
identity. Can you make her understand this? And you can attest most of
her story. I will call up Mr. Ledwith. And your father is most desirous
of being present. He will make no trouble."
She went out in the hall to meet him.
"My dear," he said, "I am more reasonable than I was yesterday. Your
lovely mother has placed some views in a different light, and she is
most glad that you have never lacked for a fervent love and care. And we
both forgive her."
"Oh, thank you for that. Though Mrs. Barrington advises that she had
better not be told of the discovery. You see she is so tranquil now,
knowing that I am provided for."
Then they entered the room. Mrs. Boyd scarcely noticed them, but her
eyes questioned Lilian, who began to explain, holding the poor hand in
hers. Mrs. Boyd seemed confused at first, then she said with some
difficulty--"Yes, yes."
Lilian and Miss Arran pillowed her up in a sitting posture and placed
the material on a portable desk.
"It is just to sign your name."
She seemed to listen as Mr. Ledwith read the affadavit, and nodded,
with her eyes on Lilian, who put the pen in her hand, but she could not
clasp it.
"I think you will have to guide it. She does not understand."
Lilian took the poor shaking hand in hers, and the sick woman looked up
into her face and smiled.
It was written, but even Lilian's hand shook a little. "Emma Eliza
Boyd."
"That is all, dear," said the girl.
She made a great effort to articulate, and her eyes had a frightened
look in them. "You--will not--go?"
"Oh, no, no," returned Lilian, with a kiss.
"Tired--tired," she gasped.
They laid her down and gave her a spoonful of stimulant but she only
swallowed a little of it.
The others left the room. Dr. Kendricks shook his head slowly. Mr.
Ledwith gave the last page of the confession to Major Crawford. Lilian
sat on the side of the bed, chafing the cool hands that had grown more
helpless since yesterday, and presently Mrs. Boyd slept, but one could
hardly note the breathing.
Mrs. Barrington looked in and beckoned to Lilian.
"Your own mother is here," she said softly. "And I feel like putting in
another claim, but I cannot displace the rightful one. You will find her
in the library."
Lilian went slowly down. The beautiful woman she had seen in church, the
woman who had lain like dead when Mrs. Boyd glanced upon her, the mother
who had missed her all these years! The tall figure rose with the
softness of a cloud longing to embrace the moon, with arms outstretched,
and the child went to them in the caress of divine satisfaction. For
this was the mother of her dreams and ideals, and their souls were as
one.
They kissed away each other's tears.
"I felt that I _must_ come, that I _must_ see you. But I am not going to
take you away, much as I long for you, since you have a sacred duty
here. When that is finished we will begin our lives together. At first,
your father was mad with jealousy that _she_ should have dared to love
you so much, but now he is glad as I am that you did not suffer from
coldness or indifference. That would have broken my heart."
"And I am afraid I did not always return love for love. I was always
dreaming, desiring something I had not. She worked for me all those
early years. I had resolved as soon as was possible to be her caretaker,
to put in her life the things she desired, whether they pleased me or
not. It did not take much to make her happy."
"And no man can understand the longing of a woman's soul when her child
has been torn from her arms. Poor empty arms, that no prayer can fill.
And this was why she snatched at the baby, believing it was motherless.
Yes, I forgave her and so did he when he came to look at it in the true
light. Some women, when times pressed hard in work and poverty, would
have placed you in an institution----"
"Oh, I think she would have starved first!" interrupted the girl,
vehemently.
"And now, if God grants it, we may have a long, satisfying life
together. For He has given me back my health like a miracle, as we had
thought it could never be, and were quite resigned. And now He has
restored all that we missed, given us the oil of joy for mourning. Oh,
child, let me look at you. As a baby you were so different from Zaidee,
it hardly seemed as if you could be twins; and you are taller, yes, you
are more like Willard. But you have my eyes, and I never was fairy-like.
Oh, I hope you girls will love each other, and I want you to love me
with all your heart to make up for those years that have fallen out of
our lives."
The exquisitely soft, silvery laugh was music to the girl's heart. Yes,
this was the ideal mother. Was there some secret quality in heredity,
after all?
They talked on and on. She wanted to hear more particulars of her
daughter's life, but Lilian softened some of the roughest places, the
fights she had had with herself, when she felt she must give up her
cherished school, the pleasure of coming to an atmosphere like this, the
warm interest of Mrs. Barrington.
"And now I must leave you," said the mother, "but I take with me a
delightful hope. When your duty is done here, and I appreciate your
doing it, you will find your true home in my heart and my home. Oh, I
think you will never be able to understand all my joy."
She rose and wiped away her tears. Yes, she was beautiful enough to
adore. Her own mother! It thrilled every pulse.
"Oh, my dear, let us both thank God for this restoration. It is like a
heavenly dream. I must have time to get used to it."
Lilian watched her as she stepped into the phæton, with its handsome
bays and the silver mountings. And Zaidee could have every wish
gratified; friends, music, travel. It was there for her, also. She had
never dreamed of that.