HOW IT ALL ENDED
When Mary's letter with the ring reached Phil, he was making
preparations to leave New York that very day. Mr. Sherman had offered
him a partnership in one of his enterprises, with headquarters in
Louisville. It was a very flattering offer, still Phil hesitated.
Personally, he preferred the position in the far West, which his former
chief had been urging him all winter to accept. His previous training
fitted him for one as well as the other, but he had always loved the
West, always felt its lure.
It was when he considered Mary, that Mr. Sherman's offer appealed to him
most. When he thought of the radiant delight with which she would
receive the news that they could cross over and take possession of her
long-desired land, he was almost persuaded to choose Kentucky, for that
one reason alone. He was fully persuaded the morning her letter arrived,
and had just telegraphed Mr. Sherman that he was starting for
Louisville to arrange matters at once.
It was well for both Phil and Mary that he had known her so long and
understood so thoroughly the ins and outs of her honest little heart.
This was not the first time that he had known her to make some
renunciation for conscience' sake, and although the letter, in his own
forcible parlance, "gave him a jolt" for an hour or so, after several
readings he folded it up with a smile and slipped it into the package
with the others marked "From the Little Vicar."
He hadn't the faintest intention of being "renounced." Moreover, he was
positive that he had only to see her and urge a few good arguments in
his favor, which would convince her that he would never be in the way of
what she considered her duty.
But a very tender regard lay under his smile of amusement, for the
attitude she had taken, and a feeling of reverence possessed him as he
saw her in the new light which this revelation of her spiritual life
gave him. "Nobody is good enough for little Mary Ware," he had said
once, when she was a romping child. He was thinking of her
unselfishness, her sturdy sincerity, her undaunted courage. Now he
repeated it, thinking of her as this letter revealed her, a
white-souled vestal maiden who took the stars as a symbol of her duty,
and who would not swerve a hair's-breadth from the orbit which she
thought was heaven appointed.
Knowing that he could reach her almost as quickly as a letter, and
confident that a personal interview would be a thousandfold more
effective, Phil did not write. But he took the first train to
Louisville, and after a few days with Mr. Sherman left for Riverville,
armed with an argument and a promise which he was sure would carry
weight in his behalf. The argument was that he needed her. He was about
to take charge of an important business entrusted to him, and he could
not do it half so well without the inspiration of the little home she
had agreed to help him make. The promise was that marrying him should
not interfere with what she considered her tryst. She should have his
hearty help and coöperation in trying to do for any state which they
might move to, what Mrs. Blythe was doing for hers.
All this and much more he said in the first impetuous words of meeting,
and almost before Mary had recovered from the overwhelming surprise of
seeing him, the ring was back on her finger and she was listening to the
plans which he rapidly outlined to her. He wasn't going to give her a
chance to change her mind again, he insisted. There was no reason why
they should not be married right there in the library the following day,
as soon as he could make the necessary arrangements.
"Oh, but there is a reason," gasped Mary, aghast at the sudden demand.
Then she hesitated, loath to tell what it was. For though it was a
weighty one with her, she knew that he would smile at it as childish.
But, after all, it was easier to confess to Phil than any one else. He
seemed to understand perfectly what she meant, even when the words
halted and failed to express her innermost feelings.
So, presently, she found herself explaining to him that it had always
been one of her beliefs from the time of her earliest knowledge of such
things, that one couldn't properly be a bride without a certain ceremony
of preparation. The filling of a dower chest was one part of it, and the
setting of infinite stitches, each as perfect as a tiny pearl, in much
"fair and broidered raiment" was another. The princesses in the fairy
tales did their fine needlework to the accompaniment of songs upon a
lute; so one set stitches in one's wedding garments, to the romance of
fancies--and so--
She did not finish coherently, but Phil laughed and said teasingly that
he ought to have known that any one, who, as a child, wept to wear her
rosebud sash out walking on the desert, where there were only owls and
jack-rabbits to see it, would insist on veils and trails and things at a
time like this. He wouldn't wait for the filling of a dower chest. She
could do that afterward; but he was finally induced to wait for the
other things, when Mrs. Blythe was brought into the discussion and
pronounced them actually necessary.
He went back to Louisville without telling Mary of his arrangement with
Mr. Sherman which had changed all his plans. The home he had written so
much about would be ready for her, but it would not be in the far West,
as she expected. He could hardly wait for the day to come when he could
witness her delight over the tremendous surprise which he had in store
for her.
It was not many weeks before he had the pleasure of telling her, but it
was over two months before she made a record of it in her diary. Then
she wrote:
"There is room for just one more chapter in my Good Times book, and when
that is finished it is to be laid away in the chest with my wedding
gown and bridal roses. Maybe, a hundred years from now, some young girl
rummaging through the attic may find my beautiful dress all yellowed
with time, and the rose leaves dried and scentless. But I am sure my
happiness will call to her from these pages like a living voice as young
as hers.
"And when she sees how this record is blistered with tears in places,
and reads how Disappointment and Duty and even Death rose up to 'close
all the roads of all the world' to me, then she'll take 'heart of grace'
if she is in any desert of waiting herself. For she'll see how true it
is that Love's road is always open, and that if we only keep inflexible
it will finally lead to the land of our desire. For here I am at last in
Lloydsboro Valley.
"It has been more than two months since Phil and I were married at Saint
Mark's Cathedral in Riverville, but I have been too busy to write the
chronicles of that important affair. No one was there but Mr. and Mrs.
Dudley Blythe. Dear old Bishop Chartley came down for the ceremony. His
warm friendship with Mrs. Blythe made that arrangement possible. It was
late in the afternoon, and the great stained-glass windows made it seem
like twilight, and down the long dim aisles the altar candles gleamed
like stars.
"I had thought at first that the vast place would seem empty and
lonesome, and that it would be queer not to have the pews filled with
friendly faces at a time like that. But when I went down the aisle I
wasn't conscious of empty pews. The glorious organ music filled it,
clear to the vaulted ceiling. And although Phil had teased me about not
wanting to wear an ordinary travelling dress and hat, he had to
acknowledge afterward that he was glad I chose to come to him all in
white and in a filmy tulle veil. And he said some dear things about the
way I looked, that were as sweet to me as the rose leaves I have
scattered among the folds of my wedding gown's white loveliness. I have
not put what he said into these pages for the girl to find a century
from now. For fashions change so curiously that maybe she would smile
and say how very queer my old-time garments are, and wonder how any man
could have made a pretty speech about them.
"Phil proved he had some sentiment about such things himself, for soon
after he bought me a real 'Ginevra' chest, all beautifully carved, with
my name engraved on the brass plate on the lid: _'Mary Ware Tremont_.'
"Not until we were aboard the train, and he showed me our tickets
marked Lloydsboro Valley, did I know that we were bound for Kentucky,
instead of the far West, and not until we were almost there did he
spring his grand surprise, although he was nearly choking with
impatience to tell. Of course I hadn't expected that we would set up
much of an establishment. I supposed that wherever we went we would rent
a modest little cottage, probably in the suburbs. I knew that Phil
couldn't afford much. He never began to save anything at all until two
years ago. He confessed when he first came back from Mexico that it was
a lecture of mine about providing a financial umbrella for a possible
rainy day which started him to doing it, and that as expenses were light
in the construction camp, and his pay very large, he had put by enough
to take us through almost anything, short of a cloudburst. But that was
an emergency fund, of course, and not to be invested in houses and
lands.
"He never told me that the tangle about his Great-aunt Patricia's
holdings in England, whatever that may be, had been straightened out at
last, and that his share, paid to him recently, was over five thousand
pounds.
"That was the first part of the surprise. The second was that he had
_bought_ (mark that word, whoever you are, oh, little maiden of the
far-off future, if you ever come across this record of happiness)--he
had bought a home in Lloydsboro Valley. He had the deed in his pocket,
and he showed how it was made out to _me_!
"Well, when the time comes for me 'to read my title clear to mansions in
the skies,' I _may_ be happier than I was that moment, but I doubt it. I
don't see how it could be possible. And when I got it through my
bewildered brain that it was _Green Acres_ that was meant by all the
queer measurements and descriptions in the deed, I lost my head
altogether, and Phil had the satisfaction of seeing that his surprise
was absolute, supreme and overpowering. It seemed too good to be true.
"Green Acres is just across the road from Oaklea. The grounds don't make
you think of a big, stately park as Oaklea does. It is more countrified.
But it is the dearest, most homelike, inviting old place that one can
imagine. I had been there several times with Lloyd and Mrs. Sherman, and
remembered it as a real picture-book sort of house, with its low gables
and quaint casement windows. I remembered that it had a garden gay as
Grandmother Ware's, with its holly-hocks and prince's feathers, its
marigolds and yellow roses; and that it had mint and sage and all sorts
of spicy, savory things in some of its borders. But I didn't know half
of its charms. Now, after two months, I am just beginning to discover
the extent of them.
"When a family has owned a place for three generations, as the
Wyckliffes did Green Acres, and have spent their time making it livable
and lovable, the result leaves little more to be wished for. The
hillside that slopes down from the back of the house has a small orchard
on part of it and a smaller vineyard on the other, but both quite ample
for our needs. Down at the bottom a little brook trickles along from a
cold spring, and watercress and forget-me-nots grow along its edges. The
apple trees are in bloom now. This morning I spent a whole hour up in
the gnarly crotch of one of them, doing nothing but enjoying to the
fullest the sweetness of their white and pink glory.
"When we came only the early wildflowers were out, but all the knoll
between the gate and the house looked as if there had been a snowfall of
anemones and spring beauties. It isn't possible to put into black and
white the joy of that first home-coming. We walked up from the station,
and when we went through the great gate and heard it click behind us,
shutting us in on our own grounds, we turned and looked at each other
and laughed like delighted children. It was as if we had reached that
land that we used to sing about, where
"'Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green.'
No wonder they named the place Green Acres!
"We left the wide driveway that winds around the hill to the house, and
took the little path that leads straight up to it under the trees. The
footpath to peace, Phil calls it.
"There was smoke coming out of the kitchen chimney, for Lloyd and Mrs.
Sherman had been in the secret and had helped Phil as industriously as
the two genii of the Bottle to get everything ready. He had bought some
of the furniture with the house, some they had helped him choose and
some they waited for me to select myself. But there was enough to make
the place livable right away, and there wasn't a room in the house that
didn't look comfortable and inviting.
"And there was May Lily installed in the kitchen as temporary cook, and
perfectly willing to stay if I wanted her. As if there could be any
question as to that! If there was anything needed to make it seem more
homelike than it already was, I found it when we started out to explore
the back premises. A fussy old hen, with her feathers all fluffed out
importantly, was clucking and scratching for a brood of downy yellow
chickens, just out of the shell. Old Mom Beck had sent them over as a
wedding present, May Lily said.
"When we had been all through the orchard and down to the spring, and
had discovered the rows of currant and gooseberry bushes at the end of
the garden, Phil said in a careless off-hand way that we might as well
take a look through the barn. By this time I had exhausted my whole
stock of exclamations, so I hadn't another word left when he led me up
to a stall, where stood one of the prettiest bay saddle horses I ever
saw in my whole life. That was Father Tremont's present to me.
"'Daddy didn't know what would please you most,' Phil said, 'but I
remembered the pleasure you used to take in old Washington out at the
Wigwam, and Lloyd insisted that you would like a riding horse better
than anything else. She rides every day herself, and was sure you would
enjoy joining her on her gallops across country.'
"Well, by that time, being speechless, all I could do was to put my
arms around the beautiful creature's satiny neck and cry a bit into her
glossy mane. The sheer happiness of having so many of my cherished
dreams come true all at once was too much for me. Her name was
Silver-wings, but from that moment I called her Joy.
"All afternoon I kept discovering things. When we sat down to dinner
that night, our first meal together (Lloyd had told May Lily exactly
what to do), a lot of the silver was marked Tremont, for the doctor had
divided all of Aunt Patricia's silver that came down from her
grandfather's family equally among Elsie and Stuart and Phil. But there
were some beautiful pieces from Lloyd and the old Colonel, and Mr. and
Mrs. Sherman. Stuart and Eugenia had sent quantities of fine table
linen.
"The last surprise of the day was the house-warming. Everybody had
stayed away till then, to let us have time to 'spy out the land and
possess it.' Lloyd and Rob were the first to come over, then Gay and
Alex Shelby. They have just gone to housekeeping in the Lindsey cabin.
Every old friend in the Valley came before the evening was over, and
gave us a royal welcome, as warm and heartening as the blaze which we
started in the big fireplace. When the Colonel went away he quoted from
the Hanging of the Crane,
"'Oh, fortunate, oh, happy day
When a new household has its birth
Amid the myriad homes of earth.'
"He said that Green Acres had always been the synonym for whole-souled
hospitality, but that we had even surpassed its best traditions.
"There isn't room for much more in this little book; only a few pages
are left, so I can't crowd into it all the good times of the last two
months, but I must make mention of the delightful rides I have had with
Lloyd, and the times when she and Gay and I have spent the day together
in good old Valley fashion. Just to be this near my Princess Winsome and
to see her daily is a constant joy. She is lovelier and more winsome
than she ever was before.
"I must put on record that I have proved what Mrs. Blythe said to be
true about the light from happy home windows being the best guide for
benighted travellers, and that social influence counts so greatly in the
work we are trying to do. Already I am beginning to see that as Mistress
of Green Acres I shall be able to accomplish far more than little Mary
Ware ever did. Of course, that might not be possible if Phil were not in
hearty sympathy with what I want to do. But he is thoroughly interested
himself.
"The other night at the Moores I overheard him discussing Housing Reform
with Judge Abbott of Lexington, as warmly as Mrs. Blythe could have
done. Finally the whole dinner party took it up, and Mrs. Abbott said
that her club had been interested in the subject for some time, and all
they need is for some one to take the initiative. The Abbotts were
staying several days with Lloyd and Rob, so next night I had them over
here. After dinner I took them up into my 'Place of the Tryst.' Of
course, I don't call it that to anybody but Phil, and he has dubbed it
the Chamber of Horrors.
"It's just a big empty room up in one of the gables. There is nothing in
it but a desk and a table and some chairs and the typewriter that I
bought with the check which Jack sent me. But around the walls are
copies of the photographs we used as posters in Riverville to arouse the
public, and had hanging in the corridors of the State House all during
the session of the Legislature. They are the very worst tenement views
we could get, like that basement in Diamond Row, and some of the
windowless rooms taken by flashlight.
"Judge Abbott said he knew that there are places every bit as bad in
Lexington and Frankfort and Covington, and Mr. Sherman and Alex Shelby
said there were scores even worse in Louisville. Miss Allison told some
experiences a friend of hers had in exploring alleys in some of the
smaller towns, and presently the whole little company, representing
several different parts of the state, were all ablaze from that one
touch of Mrs. Blythe's torch.
"When I first fitted up the room, Phil said that it didn't seem right
that a Chamber of Horrors should have a place in such a perfect home.
But I told him that we needed it to keep us from 'joining ourselves to
idols,' as Ephraim did. That is the danger that always menaces people
when they get over into their Promised Land. We might be tempted to
think so much of our dear possessions that we'd make idols of them sure
enough, and forget all about the work we had pledged ourselves to do. No
one has a right to settle down to the full possession and full enjoyment
of any Canaan, until he has put to flight every Hittite and Gittite that
preys upon its internal peace.
"They all seemed surprised to see my typewriter, but I told them how I
had used Mrs. Blythe's, and that this one is dedicated to the same
cause. That I expected to write hundreds of letters just as soon as I
found out who were the most influential people to address. Right then
and there the movement started. Every man there promised me a list of
his personal acquaintances who had big influence, and said he'd gladly
put his signature to any letter or petition that would help get what we
wanted. Lloyd and Miss Allison are both members of the Women's Club in
Louisville, and they asked me to join, and are as enthusiastic as heart
could wish. Judge Abbott took a copy of Mrs. Blythe's bill to look it
over and see how it could be amended to put before the Kentucky
Legislature, so already I feel that something has been accomplished. It
is something just to get a start.
"Once, long ago, the old Colonel remarked that I had it in my power to
become an honor to my sex and one of the most interesting women of my
generation. My family used to quote it to me to tease me, on all
occasions, but for years it was one of my highest ambitions to become
what he had prophesied. It is something else that I crave now.
"I write it here on the last page and lay it away under the white tulle
and the rose leaves, for some one to bring to light long years from
now. It will be the crowning happiness of my happy life, if she who
reads may chance to have heard that my wish found fulfilment. For then
she can add 'She _was_ a blessing to her generation and a torch that
helped to light the way for all who came after her.'"
THE END.
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=THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful
Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.
Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.50
Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
delightful New England family.
=BORN TO THE BLUE.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of this
delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry
stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the
gratitude of a nation.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Page 22, missing word "a" added to text. (after a long time)
Page 30, missing word "the" added to text (at the thought of)
Page 41, "role" changed to "rôle" (the rôle of Uncle)
Page 119, "muscial" changed to "musical" (no more musical)
Page 120, "me" changed to "my" (of my ancestors)
Page 121 "Lloydboro" changed to "Lloydsboro" (Sunday in Lloydsboro)
Page 189, "Tueton" changed to "Teuton" (bewhiskered old Tueton)
Page 297, "professsional" changed to "professional" (professional world
gave)
Page 307, "Loydsboro" changed to "Lloydsboro" (marked Lloydsboro Valley)