Granny's golden wedding celebration was a very informal affair although
many important people came to offer their congratulations and to ask
Granny where on earth she had been and to tell her how much she had been
missed. Although she had been married at noon Granny had chosen to have
her party in the evening, and July the twenty-second offered her a
wonderful evening, cool and pleasant as a July evening can be
occasionally.
Old Peter Simmons was continually leaving his place beside Granny to
draw Rebecca Mary into a corner and ask her if she thought that Granny
really was satisfied to have a home for old couples for her golden
wedding present or if Rebecca Mary thought Granny would rather have had
something more personal.
"I always have given her something personal," he explained, "ever since
the Christmas when she gave me a carpet sweeper. For years before that
I'd showered her with rugs and library tables and a brass bed and other
household furniture. She said then she guessed the house was mine as
much as it was hers and it was only fair for me to take my share of the
stuff. And she was right. But that made me suspicious ever after. And
now--of course, she planned this aged home herself, but women do change
and you heard what she said. Do you think she would rather have had a
string of pearls?" Granny had given old Peter Simmons something to think
of when she had said she was so afraid that he was going to give her
pearls or diamonds for a golden wedding present.
"What is that about pearls?" And there was Granny herself. She had
followed them to ask old Peter Simmons why he couldn't stand beside her
and say thank you when people told him how lucky he had been to have had
her to live with for fifty years instead of rushing off into corners
with Rebecca Mary. "Indeed, I do want that Simmons Home for Old
Couples," she declared when old Peter Simmons had stammered "Why." "I
should have been broken-hearted if you had brought me anything but that
deed. Pearls!" she sniffed scornfully. "What would I do with a string of
pearls? I should only put it away for young Peter's wife."
"But young Peter hasn't any wife!" objected Joan, who, of course, was at
Rebecca Mary's elbow.
"He will have some day," laughed young Peter, who had been drawn to the
little group in the corner. "Won't he, Rebecca Mary?"
Rebecca Mary was furious because she colored when Peter asked her if he
wouldn't have a wife some day, and she was more furious when she
stammered in her answer. Why should she always be so horribly
self-conscious? If she had known how charming she was as she colored and
stammered she wouldn't have been so angry.
"Most men have," was all she said.
"Not all men," insisted Joan. "There's my father. He hasn't any wife."
"He has had one, and one is enough for any man," Peter told her.
"I don't think it's enough for my father. He always wants two of
everything, roast beef and ice cream and handkerchiefs and pencils
and--and everything," she declared, and Peter pulled her hair and asked
her how she dared to compare a wife to roast beef before he went away to
dance with Doris.
Rebecca Mary looked across the room at the man who wanted two of
everything. He was standing by the window, and he wore the absent-minded
detached expression which Rebecca Mary and Granny had seen him wear at
Riverside. Only a part of Frederick Befort was at that moment at
Granny's golden wedding party. But as Rebecca Mary looked at him he
raised his head and their eyes met. Rebecca Mary blushed again. Oh,
dear, wouldn't she ever overcome that silly conscious habit? But she
just had to blush as she remembered that she had thought he was a spy.
The absent-minded expression slipped from Frederick Befort's face as all
of him came to the party, and he started toward Rebecca Mary. She turned
away quickly. She couldn't speak to him. She was glad to have Sallie
Cabot stop beside her, although Sallie Cabot's words were far from
quieting.
"What have you done to my Cousin Richard?" Sallie demanded with a laugh.
"I used to say he was like a piano, grand, upright and square, but
lately he has quite a ukelele look. What have you done to him?"
Rebecca Mary blushed a third time as she involuntarily looked at Richard
as he stood talking to two most important men. She couldn't detect any
ukelele look, she thought indignantly. He looked as he had always
looked, perfectly splendid, to her. What did Mrs. Cabot mean? But Mrs.
Cabot drifted away, she did not wait to explain, and Rebecca Mary was
left alone with her question.
She felt rather forlorn and neglected for it was a long time since she
had been left alone. There had been a young man to ask her to do this
and another young man to ask her to do that. But now young Peter was
dancing with Doris and Wallie was talking to Martha Farnsworth and
George was in a corner with Helen Lester. So they had been devoted to
her at Riverside just because she was the only girl there. She had known
that all the time, she told herself, but it did hurt a bit to have it
proved so conclusively. But there was one thing she did have, she
thought stoutly, and that was the memory of the good time she had had at
Riverside. That couldn't be taken from her--ever! And as if the memory
of a good time had soothed the little feeling of neglect which had hurt
her she slipped out of her corner and made herself very pleasant to the
people she found neglected in other corners. Many eyes followed Rebecca
Mary as she moved here and there, for she wore a new crisp organdie
frock with pink ribbons exactly where pink ribbons should be and tiny
blue forget-me-nots tied in with the pink rosebuds. It was a very
charming frock and Rebecca Mary was very charming in it. Young Peter
told her so as soon as his dance with Doris was finished.
"Rebecca Mary," he said sternly, "I hope you are as good as you are good
looking."
Rebecca Mary laughed and then she sighed. "I'm not," she said with a
little quiver of her lower lip. "At least, I'm not good, Peter. I'm
envious and jealous and all sorts of horrid things."
"Glad of it." Peter did not seem at all shocked to hear how horrid she
was behind her good looks. "If you weren't a few of those things you
wouldn't be down here with me. You would be up in the blue sky tuning
your harp. I like a girl, especially a pretty girl, to be human."
"I guess I'm awfully human." And Rebecca Mary sighed again.
"Who is calling you names?" And Wallie and George stopped to ask her
what she had meant by running away from Riverside and leaving them
without a girl to play with. They never could tell her how they had
missed her--every hour.
"Pooh," laughed Rebecca Mary. "You were too busy with your great
experiment to miss me for a minute."
They pretended to be cut to the quick by her doubt of their veracity,
and Rebecca Mary was once again the center of a merry chattering group.
It was such fun to laugh and joke with them again. She hoped they had
missed her. And then she caught her breath with a frightened little gasp
for Frederick Befort was coming toward her again, and this time he did
not look as if he could be evaded.
"May I speak to you?" he asked Rebecca Mary with a serious directness
which made Peter and Wallie and George murmur a few words and drift
away, although Rebecca Mary did try to clutch Peter's sleeve.
Rebecca Mary did not wish to be alone with Frederick Befort for a
minute. She was so afraid that he knew that she had locked him in Major
Martingale's office at Riverside, that she had taken him for a spy. She
had avoided him all day, and she would have avoided him now if it had
been possible. She was very uncomfortable as she went with him to the
porch and dropped down among the pillows of the swinging seat. Her heart
was beating so loud that she was sure he would hear it.
Frederick Befort stood in front of her and looked down at her. He did
not say a word. Rebecca Mary shivered among the cushions and tried to
say something.
"It is a lovely golden wedding, isn't it?" she said, and she could have
slapped herself when she heard her voice shake.
Frederick Befort drew himself up, clicking his heels together in the way
which had roused Rebecca Mary's suspicions, and looked straight into her
eyes.
"Miss Wyman," he said very formally, "I beg that you will honor me by
becoming my wife?"
"Wh-a-t?" Rebecca Mary slipped from among the cushions and stood staring
at him with wide-open-startled eyes. She had expected him to berate her
for taking him for a spy and he had asked her to marry him. She had
never been more astonished in her life. She dropped weakly back among
the cushions.
"You touched my heart at once by your kindness to my little Joan,"
Frederick Befort went on swiftly, and his voice was like a caress as he
took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Whenever I think of Mrs.
Muldoon I am in such a rage that it is well that she is not near me.
What would have happened to my little girl if it had not been for your
heavenly sweetness and generosity!" He shivered as he thought of what
might have happened to Joan.
Rebecca Mary shivered, too. "Oh," she gasped faintly. She couldn't say
another word. She could only stare at him with big unbelieving eyes.
"And always you were kind to every one," Frederick Befort went on in
that soft low voice which was so like a caress. "Kindness means much to
me now. I have seen so much--unkindness. To-morrow I go to Washington
with Mr. Simmons and Major Martingale to make a report on our work at
Riverside, and then I must go home. I did not think I ever would go
back. I thought I was through with empires and kings. I wanted to live
where a man could be himself and not just one of a pattern. But I have a
duty over there, I must go back. May I come for you first, and will you
go with me and Joan to my poor changed Luxembourg? Will you?" His grave
eyes searched her face.
Rebecca Mary kept her eyes on the fingers which fumbled so nervously
with an end of pink ribbon. It couldn't be true that this man, who had
once been to her like the prince in the fairy tale, really had asked her
to marry him. She must be dreaming. Countess Ernach de Befort! That
didn't sound a bit like Rebecca Mary Wyman. She couldn't make it sound
like Rebecca Mary Wyman. And then she remembered that he never once had
said a word which is usually mentioned in a proposal of marriage. With a
relief so great that it almost choked her, Rebecca Mary understood that
Frederick Befort had asked her to marry him because she had been, as he
had said, heavenly kind to Joan, and not because he loved her so that
he could not live without her. Rebecca Mary believed firmly that love is
the only reason for marriage. And she did not love Count Ernach de
Befort. There had been a time when he had fascinated her, when she had
dreamed that perhaps he might some day ask her to marry him, but that
time was past, and anyway fascination was not love. She tried to think
how she could tell him that it wasn't without hurting his--his pride,
for she felt that she had done him an almost irreparable injury in
questioning his honor. Oh, she never could be grateful enough to Richard
Cabot if he hadn't told Frederick Befort that she had questioned his
honor. Perhaps it was the thought of Richard which gave her courage to
raise her eyes to the grave face above her.
"I'm--I'm so sorry," she stammered, and she put her little hand on his
sleeve. "But you don't really want me. It's just for Joan. You don't
care for me and--I don't care for you. You know you don't really care?"
Frederick Befort drew his heels together again and bowed ceremoniously
over the small white hand he had taken from his sleeve. "I, too, am
sorry," and his voice sounded sorry, so sorry that just for a second
Rebecca Mary thought she might have been mistaken. "But if I cannot
have your love I hope always to have your friendship?"
"You shall!" she promised quickly, glad that she could give him
something that he wanted. "You shall always have my friendship--you and
Joan."
He raised her hand to his lips again and went away, taking with him the
only chance Rebecca Mary ever would have to be a countess.
Richard passed him as he came looking for Rebecca Mary, and he stopped
to regard him with suspicion. "What did he want? Did he ask you to marry
him, Rebecca Mary?" he demanded so anxiously that Rebecca Mary could not
resent the question.
"He was just telling me how grateful he was for what I did for Joan."
Rebecca Mary quite truthfully translated what Frederick Befort had said
to her, and which she had been clever enough to understand. "I couldn't
marry him," she went on quickly. "We belong to different countries
and--and everything. Once I thought I should like to," she confessed
with an adorable blush. "It would have been so romantic to be a
countess. He has taught me a lot about--about Luxembourg and things, but
he doesn't want me to marry him. He is just grateful for what I did for
Joan, you know."
[Illustration: "I LOVE YOU, REBECCA MARY"]
The jealousy died out of Richard's face and in its place was an eager
expectation. "Well, I love you, Rebecca Mary," he said quickly. "I care
for you a lot. Could you--do you care for me?" He took her hands and
lifted her to her feet so that she stood before him.
And Rebecca Mary confessed that she did, that she cared a lot for him,
she had ever since that day at the bank.
"You were always so--so good to me," she murmured as if she just had to
have a reason.
"Good to you!" Richard choked as he took her in his arms and kissed her.
"Good to you, sweetheart! How could a man be anything but good to you? I
want to be good to you all the rest of your life!"
Through the open window they could hear Granny's voice; evidently she
was giving a toast for she said--"To all those who keep their hearts
young for they shall live forever!"
"That means me," Joan said shrilly. "For I have a young heart, and I'm
going to keep it young forever."
"That means us, too," Richard whispered, his lips very close to Rebecca
Mary's pink ear. "Our hearts are young, aren't they?"
"Yes." Rebecca Mary spoke dreamily, for she felt as if she must be in
a dream world. She couldn't be wide awake and be in Richard's arms. "As
long as we have love in our hearts they can't grow old."
"I'm going to live forever!" Joan danced out to tell them her news.
"Granny said I should. Are you, dear Miss Wyman? Do you like the golden
wedding? I'm disappointed in it," she confessed loudly. "It's just like
any grown-up party. I don't see exactly why Granny wanted it so much."
"Oh, don't you, miss?" And there was Granny. "It wasn't like any
grown-up party to me, not a bit! You just have one wedding, Joan, and
then you'll understand why I've wanted fifty. You understand, don't you,
Rebecca Mary?" She put her arm around Rebecca Mary and hugged her after
her keen eyes had searched Rebecca Mary's tell-tale rosy face.
"But Miss Wyman hasn't had one wedding." Joan didn't see why Rebecca
Mary should understand so much more than she could.
"No, but Miss Wyman is engaged," Granny told her as if it were a great
secret.
But every one heard her, and every one was astonished. No one was more
astonished than Rebecca Mary unless perhaps it was Richard.
"Rebecca Mary engaged!" Young Peter couldn't believe it. "That wasn't
fair, Rebecca Mary, not to tell a fellow."
"What is she engaged to?" asked Joan jealously, although she didn't
understand what being engaged meant.
Granny told them that, too, before Rebecca Mary could open her mouth.
"To a four-leaf clover. Aren't you, Rebecca Mary?" And then she told
them what had happened to Rebecca Mary the afternoon when she went to
the Waloo for tea, that some one had thrust a four-leaf clover into
Rebecca Mary's hand. Consequently by all the laws of romance Rebecca
Mary was engaged to that some one.
"But who was it?" Joan expressed the curiosity which was on every face.
"I wish I knew!" Rebecca Mary had quite forgotten the mystery of the
four-leaf clover in the greater mystery of Richard's love.
"Don't you know?" Richard asked in a queer sort of a voice. Was he
jealous?
She shook her head. No, she didn't know. She never had known where that
clover leaf had come from but it had brought her luck. Yes, it had! And
she would keep it to her dying day. But she should like to know who had
given it to her.
Richard laughed. "Granny," he said, "come and confess."
"Granny!" What had Granny to do with it? A gray-haired old Granny was
not according to the laws of romance.
Granny realized that, and she made her explanation apologetically as if
she understood that it might not be wholly satisfactory.
"You were such a dear scowling thunder cloud that afternoon that I was
sorry for you. It seemed such a wicked waste of a perfectly good girl
that I simply had to offer a little first aid. Richard and I talked you
over"----
"Richard!" Rebecca Mary remembered very vividly how curiously Richard
had regarded her over his sandwich.
"And we decided, I did at least, that you needed a little mystery in
your life. You looked as if you had been fed entirely too long on stern
reality. It was easy enough to diagnose your case, but we didn't know
how to get the prescription to you until we were all jammed together at
the door. I had the clover leaves in my corsage bouquet, old Peter
Simmons had sent them to me, and I made Richard push one into your hand.
He didn't want to do it. He said it was silly and impertinent." Oh, the
scorn in Granny's soft voice. "But I have a very persuasive way with me
at times," she added as Rebecca Mary stared at her, her mouth and eyes
all wide open. "I told him if he didn't do it I should, and I'd tell you
that he did it."
Rebecca Mary swung around to look at Richard. "Then you--you----" but
words failed her. It was so altogether as she wanted it to be.
"Yes, I did," admitted Richard with some shame, for there are those who
might think it unseemly for a bank vice-president to slip four-leaf
clovers into the hands of strange scowling girls. "Granny has, as she
said, a very persuasive way with her. I never before did such a thing,"
he explained unnecessarily. "And I shouldn't have done it then if I
hadn't been so sure that she would make her threat good." His voice
sounded as if even yet he could not understand how he had let Granny
coerce him. "I'll never do it again," he promised with a rare twinkle in
his eyes. "But I did do it that afternoon. Are you sorry?"
Rebecca Mary looked from him to Granny and then back at him again. But
before she could find breath with which to tell him that she was
anything but sorry Granny said slowly, as if she were still visualizing
the Waloo tea room:
"You were with such a dear looking woman that afternoon."
"Yes," dimpled Rebecca Mary, all flushed and sparkling at the
astonishing news she had heard. "My insurance agent. She was trying to
persuade me to take out a policy," she giggled.
"And did you?" Joan always wanted to know whether one did or didn't.
"Did I!" Rebecca Mary drew a deep breath as she thought of the policy
she had taken out and the long record of payments she had made on it. "I
should say I did!"
"That's all very interesting," Richard broke in after she had told them
a little more about her memory insurance and they had laughed and
trooped away again, "but it interrupted a question that I wish to ask
you. What I want to know is, are you going to marry me?" He put the
question in his best vice-presidential manner, although there was a
twinkle in the far corner of his eyes.
Rebecca Mary laughed and twinkled, too. The old negative phrase never
came near her lips. Her cheeks were as pink as pink and her eyes were
like stars as Richard's arm slipped around her shoulders and drew her
closer.
"Will you marry me, sweetheart?" he asked her again, very gently this
time, not a bit like a bank vice-president.
Rebecca Mary caught her breath. She put up her hand and clutched the
edge of his coat with trembling fingers as if to keep him near her until
she could answer him. Her eyes crinkled and the corners of her mouth
tilted up. My! but she was glad that Cousin Susan had told her what she
should say.
"Y-yes," she stuttered, half laughing, half crying. "Y-yes, thank you!"
End of Project Gutenberg's Rebecca's Promise, by Frances R. Sterrett