"THE WINDS OF FATE BLOW EVER."
"Of all that life can teach us,
There's naught so true as this:
The winds of Fate blow ever,
But ever blow amiss!"
The days fled fast, and brought the balm of hope to aching hearts.
Contrary to the surgeon's verdict, and in spite of a very dangerous
wound, Earle Winans was on the road to recovery.
Youth, health, and a superb constitution had triumphed over the
circumstances that threatened the close of his young, promising life.
But it was quite three weeks, and far into the middle of June, before
he was able to be removed from the Conway cottage up to Rosemont.
In the meantime something had happened that caused Ladybird's exile
from the scene of her mischievous triumphs and coquetries.
The story of her novel lottery the night after the picnic had become
public property in the village and shared usual notoriety with the duel.
Nothing was talked of but the rivalry between Aura and Ladybird that
had been the primary cause of the duel. It became the sensation of the
hour. The gaping of the villagers when either of the rival beauties
appeared on the streets was so unendurable that even the bold-eyed
Aura shrank with dismay, and was fain to remain indoors, although the
giving up of her designs on Earle Winans was succeeded by the vaulting
ambition to become Lady Chester.
Arthur did indeed call once on the lawyer's daughter, but she made no
impression on the heart that already held a fairer image. But he was
curious to know the girl who had been the cause of the duel. When he
had satisfied his curiosity and laughed in his sleeve over her wasted
airs and graces, he retreated from the field, and none of her efforts
could inveigle him inside her doors again.
The story of Ladybird's flirtations was well known to everybody else
before it reached her father and the Winans family.
Bruce Conway was one of the proudest of men, and although he had been
an accomplished flirt in his own day he could not tolerate it in his
daughter. The truth horrified him.
If it had been any other girl than Ladybird, his own lovely daughter,
he would have laughed in his idle, graceful way at her novel method of
doing justice to her lovers, the "heroes," as she termed them--but this
came home too nearly.
He recalled with a groan his pleasant hopes and fancies built on his
daughter's preference for Earle Winans. Then he muttered:
"Engaged to a fellow I never saw! A village lawyer's clerk! That Jack
Tennant! Won in a lottery--my daughter! Good heavens! how careless and
thoughtless I have been, taking my own way and letting Ladybird take
hers. Otherwise this never could have happened."
For the most of his life Bruce Conway had taken things easily, and life
had gone easy with him, but here was something that shook him up, as it
were.
He had a long talk with Miss Prudence Primrose, during which she said
so often, "I told thee so, Bruce, I told thee so," that it almost drove
him mad.
"But what can I do with her? How restrain her in the future, even
if she ever lives down the notoriety of this ridiculous prank?" he
groaned.
Miss Prue sighed helplessly, then a bright thought came to her, and she
suggested:
"Why not consult my good friend, Mrs. Winans? She has raised up two
gentle daughters very properly."
"No, Prue, I cannot consult Mrs. Winans. You forget how shamefully
Ladybird has treated her son. If it comes to her ears, as it must, she
will resent the indignity to her son, who inherits all his father's
pride and nobility. The affection she cherishes for Ladybird now will
perhaps change into disgust. I cannot tell what to do with the little
madcap, but I can tell you, Aunt Prue, a widower with a coquettish
daughter on his hands is an object to be pitied."
Miss Prue did not pity him much. She thought he had neglected his
pretty, motherless child all along, and valued his own ease too highly.
Now he was reaping the fit reward for his carelessness.
"I will send her to a convent school till she's twenty, that's what
I'll do," he declared irritably.
But suddenly Ladybird took the matter into her own hands.
The little beauty had been secretly very unhappy ever since the night
when her willful prank had so deeply offended Earle's proud heart and
reared that wall of ice between them.
Up at Rosemont every one believed her perfectly happy, and none dreamed
of her love and sorrow over Earle, who might die and never forgive her
for the wrong she had done him.
Everyone loved and petted her, from the stately senator and his lovely
daughters down to the lowest menial on the grand estate. As for gentle
Mrs. Winans, she had a deep and silent love, maternal in its strength,
for the winsome child of her dear dead friend, bonny Lulu.
Ladybird knew well how they loved her, and her heart thrilled with love
for them, but always there was the haunting thought that when Earle
should tell them of her coquettish wiles they would despise her ever
after.
"And that would break my heart," she sighed tearfully.
So when Earle was declared out of danger she began to shrink at the
very thought of meeting him again. The memory of his last proud look of
resentful scorn remained always in her thoughts.
"I should like to run away. I can never meet him again, cold and
altered, loving me no longer," she sobbed on her pillow that night.
And as if in answer to her longing wish a letter came next morning.
It was the next day after her father had declared to Miss Prue that he
would place her in a convent school for three years.
She went to him with a smile, her heart beating with hope, and placed
the letter in his hand.
"What is it, Ladybird?"
"A letter, papa, from my old schoolmistress, Madame Hartman. She and
her husband are going abroad in a week for a summer tour, and they
take with them our whole graduated class of last year--ten girls, you
know, counting me. She has written to ask if you will permit me to join
her party. Will you, papa, dearest?" clinging fondly round his neck.
"She chaperoned ten girls abroad last year, and they had such a lovely
time--lovely! And if I go I must join madame in Richmond this week."
"You take my breath away, Ladybird, this is so sudden."
"But you will let me go. My heart is quite set on it, papa."
"But, my dear, I had hoped to have you for my guest this summer," said
Mrs. Winans, who happened to be present.
"I thank you, but--I would not like to disappoint Madame Hartman,"
Ladybird murmured, with a break in her voice.
"Then you must be my guest in Washington this winter. I should like to
present you to Washington society at the time that Precious comes out.
Will you consent, Mr. Conway?"
"Gladly," he answered, and Ladybird went over to kiss the lovely,
gentle face, and left a tear on Mrs. Winans' cheek. She did not guess
it was for her son's sake.
Bruce Conway was too much pleased with Madame Hartman's opportune offer
to decline it, so it was accepted by telegraph, and her father took her
to Richmond next day to join her kind teacher. The Winans family saw
her go, with loving regrets and confident hopes of a meeting next fall,
forgetting how adversely the winds of fate too often blow.