Alexina for several years had been made partially acquainted with her
affairs.
The evening her uncle chose to go over the whole with her, Alexina, in
the midst of it, put a hand timidly on his. "I am grateful, Uncle
Austen, you know that," she said.
The matter of the mother was fresh between them. "I have been paid, as
any one else, for my services," he answered.
She drew her hand back.
The books were a clear record of what had been done year by year.
"Cowan Steamboat Mortgage," read Alexina from a page of early
entries. "What was that?"
"A mortgage held for you on a boat built at the Cowan shipyards."
"What was the name of the boat?" Alexina's voice sounded suddenly
strained and odd.
"The 'King William,'" said Austen. "The boat never paid for itself,
and the mortgage was foreclosed and the boat sold."
The girl's eyes narrowed with curious intentness. As she listened she
pushed her hair back with the hand propping her head as if its weight
oppressed her. "And then?" she asked. "Here are more entries."
"I bought the boat in at a figure a little over the mortgage; river
affairs were down. Later, a couple of years--you'll find it there--the
boat sold for double the price."
She closed the book. "That's enough, I believe," she said, "for one
evening." But it is doubtful if he was at all aware of anything
strange in her tone.
She tripped on her skirts, so impetuous was her flight up the stairs,
and, in her room, flung herself upon the bed. Her hands even beat
fiercely as she cried, but there was no doll Sally Ann to be gathered
in for comfort now.
They had loved her, they had been good to her. Mrs. Leroy had rocked
her, the Captain had held her on his knee.
She sprang up and went to bathe her eyes. If she knew where they were,
or how to find them, she would go--
She wondered if Emily or her mother had known about this.
She went to the Carringfords' the next afternoon. She liked to go over
to the little brown house and she liked Emily's strong-featured,
outspoken mother; there was a certain homely charm even in the
clear-starched fresh calico dresses she wore.
Mrs. Carringford was drawing large loaves of golden-brown bread from
the oven as Alexina came in by way of the kitchen door. The smell of
it was good.
"Wait a moment, Alexina," she said, as she rose and turned the loaves
out onto a clean crash towel spread upon the table. "I want a word
with you before you go up-stairs. It's about Emily; you know, I
suppose, that your uncle is coming over right often to see her?--That
big hat looks well on your yellow hair, Alexina--And I'm going to be
plain: it's bad for Emily; she's discontented with things now, she
always has been."
Alexina's eyes dilated. "Coming to see Emily? Does--does Emily want
him to come?"
"Alexina," called Emily down the stairs; "aren't you coming up?"
Alexina went up to the room which Emily shared with her two little
sisters. It was hard on her. There were various attempts to have it as
a girl fancies her room. The airiness of Swiss muslins, however cheap,
the sheen of the colour over which the airiness lies, the fluttering
of ruffled edges--these seem to be expressions of girlhood. But
Emily's little sisters shared the room with her. They were there when
Alexina entered.
"Now go out," Emily told them; "we want to be alone."
The little girls looked up. Miss Alexina was tall and fair and
friendly, she wore lovely dresses, she went to balls, and they adored
her. She felt the flattery and liked it too. "Oh," she interceded,
"no, don't, Emily."
"Yes," said Emily; "we want to talk. Go on, Nan--Nell; don't you
hear?"
The little sisters gathered up books and slates with some show of
resentment; it was their room too. Emily shut the door behind them.
The breadths of a light-hued silk dress were lying about the room.
Emily was ripping on the waist. "It's a dress Miss Harriet gave mother
for a quilt while you were away, but I told her it would be no such
thing if I could devise it otherwise."
She frowned, then threw the waist down. "Not that I don't hate it--the
devising, the scheming."
"I wouldn't do it," said Alexina bluntly.
"Which is easy for you to say," retorted Emily, her eyes sweeping
Alexina from top to toe. Harriet Blair knew how to dress the girl.
"Yes," said Alexina; "I suppose that's true." It was part of her hold
on Emily, her fairness. "But you're welcome to anything of mine; I've
reason somehow to hate 'em all."
The colour heightened on Emily's face and she looked eager. Passion
expresses itself variously. The stern old grandfather abased and
denied the physical and material needs. Emily exulted in the very
sheen of rich fabric, in the feel of satin laid to cheek. Was the
grandchild but fulfilling the law of reaction? The soul of Emily and
the soul of the old preacher saw each other across a vast abyss.
"It's for the Orbisons' I need a dress," said Emily. "Of course, I
know it's because I have a voice I'm asked."
Yet, knowing that for herself she never would have been asked, there
was exultation in Emily's tone.
Alexina got up suddenly. Somehow she didn't want to discuss the
Leroys with Emily after all.
Down-stairs she stopped again in the spotless, shining kitchen, the
clean odour where soft-soap is used always lingering. Alexina liked
it; all her knowledge of the dear homely details of life she was
familiar with, she had gotten here.
"You remember the Leroys?" she asked Mrs. Carringford.
"Why, yes; I sent them milk twice a day."
"Did you know why they went away?"
"Wasn't it because they had put everything into that--er--" She
stopped.
"Boat?" suggested the girl.
"Boat"--Mrs. Carringford accepted the word--"and so had to, after it
was--er--"
"Sold," supplied Alexina. "Did you--did people know who it was held
the mortgage?"
The plain-spoken Mrs. Carringford looked embarrassed. "Well, Alexina,
you know how it is in a neighbourhood."
"Then you knew the boat was bought in for me?"
"Why, yes; I did."
"Did the Leroys know it?"
"Why, naturally, I should suppose so."
That was all that Alexina wanted to know, yet not all, either. Her
colour rose a little. It made her pretty. "Do you know anything of the
Leroys since?"
"Not a word," said Mrs. Carringford.
"What do you hear from Miss Harriet and Major Rathbone?"
"They are still East. Dr. Ransome came back yesterday."
"Yes; I know he did," said Mrs. Carringford. "He was here to see
Emily last night. He's a nice boy." There was emphasis in her way of
making the statement. Harriet Blair had once remarked that Mrs.
Carringford was that anomaly--a sane woman. Yet she opposed the visits
of Austen Blair and spoke heartily concerning the other one. "Garrard
is a nice boy; I like him."