"WE WANT MILLIE TO UNDERSTAND."
Millicent Fern had been so busy on her second novel that she had hardly
noticed the prolonged absence of Shirley Roseleaf from her father's
house. Her first story was selling fairly well and she had received a
goodly number of reviews in which it was alluded to with more or less
favor. Not the least welcome of the things her mail brought was a check
bearing the autograph of Cutt & Slashem, that tangible evidence which
all authors admire that her efforts had not been wholly in vain. She had
put a great deal of hard work into her new novel, and felt that, when
Mr. Roseleaf added his polish to the plot she had woven, it would make a
success far greater than the other.
Millicent thought she understood the young man perfectly. To her mind he
was merely awaiting the moment when she was ready to name the day for
their marriage. To be sure he had not asked her to wed him, but his
actions were not to be misunderstood. She would accept him, for business
reasons, and the romance could come later. Together they would
constitute a strong partnership in fiction. While she was wrapped up in
her writing it was quite as well that he remained at a respectful
distance. Between her second and her third story she would have time to
arrange the ceremony.
When Roseleaf made his next appearance at dinner, in the house at
Midlands, Miss Fern smiled on him pleasantly. She remarked that he
lacked color, and he replied that he had been suffering from a slight
illness. Then she spoke of her new story, revealing the plot to a
limited extent, and said it would be ready for him in about two weeks.
The astonished young man saw that she considered his services entirely
at her disposal, without question, whenever she saw fit to call upon
them. He talked it over with Daisy.
"You know," stammered the girl, "that Millie thought you were in love
with her. That would account for everything, wouldn't it?"
"But where did she ever get that idea!" he exclaimed, desperately.
"She says you tried to put your arm around her."
"Just to practice. Just to learn what love was like. I told you how
ignorant I was, the same as I did her. Archie said she would show me,
but it didn't amount to anything. It was only when I asked you, Daisy,
that I began to understand. Do you remember how you stood on your toes
and kissed me?"
The girl bade him be quiet and not get too reminiscent, but he would
not.
"It taught me all I needed to know, in one instant," he persisted. "Ah,
sweetheart, how much happiness and suffering I have had on your
account!"
He stooped and kissed her tenderly as he spoke.
"And after this it will be happiness only," she whispered.
Another kiss answered this prediction.
"What can I do if she asks me to rewrite the whole of another novel?"
asked Roseleaf, with a groan.
"I think you might find time to oblige her," said Daisy. "But you ought
to explain things--you ought not to let her misunderstand your position
any longer."
He said that this was true, and that he would act upon the suggestion.
He had her father's consent, and nothing could stand in the way of his
marriage to Daisy before the year ended. It was not right, of course, to
go on with the implication of being engaged to both the sisters.
"But I wish I could escape doing that writing," he added. "I hate
fiction, any way; I have been at work on one of my own that I fear I
never shall finish. There is much sadness in novels, and I like joy so
much better. I believe I shall abandon the whole field."
This she would not listen to. She said her husband that was to be must
become a famous writer, for she wanted to be very proud of him. And Mr.
Fern came in to the room, and having the question put to him, decided it
in the same manner, as he was sure to do when he learned that his
younger daughter held that opinion.
The retired merchant bore the appearance of a man from whose shoulders
the severe burden of a great weight had fallen. The tiger that had
crouched so long in his path, ready at any moment to spring, had been
vanquished. Beyond the profound humiliation of knowing that his sin was
exposed to the gaze of two of his intimate friends, he had no cause for
present grief. Both of them had proved friends indeed, and nothing was
to be feared from any quarter. Hannibal had disappeared immediately
after the interview at the Hoffman House, and it was supposed had gone
back to France.
There was to be no haste about the wedding, after all. Now that the
young couple felt perfectly sure of each other they were more willing
than they had been to wait. The freedom that an understood engagement
brings to Americans was theirs. If Millicent had only known the true
condition of affairs, and was content with them, they would have been
perfectly satisfied.
An old story tells how a certain colony of mice came to the unanimous
conclusion that a bell should be hung around the neck of a cat for which
they had a well-defined fear; and it also relates that none of the
rodents were willing to undertake the task of placing the warning signal
in the desired position. Both Shirley and Daisy wished heartily that
Millicent could be told the exact condition of their hopes and
expectations, but neither had the courage to inform her. Many of their
long conversations referred to this matter, and one day, when they had
discussed it as usual, Daisy hit upon a bright idea.
"You don't suppose, do you, that Mr. Weil would tell Millie for us? He
has done so many nice things, he might do one more."
Roseleaf wore a thoughtful expression. He realized how much Archie had
already done for him--realized it more fully than Daisy did; but he said
the matter was worth thinking of. He wanted very much to have it
settled.
"Would--would you--ask him?" he stammered. "He would do anything for
you."
"Yes," she responded, softly, "I will ask him. But we had best be
together. I do not want to broach the matter unless you are there."
In a few days the opportunity came. Mr. Weil heard the voice he loved
best explaining the situation.
"We want Millie to understand," said Daisy. "If she--if she still likes
Shirley herself, there may be an unpleasant scene, and you will see how
difficult it is for either of us to tell her. But you, who have done so
many kindnesses for us, could convey the information to her without the
diffidence we should feel. Will you, dear Mr. Weil?"
And Archie said he would, and that it would be a pleasure to him. And a
bright light illumined the faces of the young people, as another stone
was rolled out of the pathway their feet were to tread.
Mr. Weil did not know how to approach his subject except by a more or
less direct route. One day he was talking with Miss Fern about her new
novel, and she spoke of Mr. Roseleaf in connection with its nearness to
the required revision.
"I don't know as Shirley will find time to help you out," he replied.
"He is so busy just now with Miss Daisy."
She did not seem to comprehend him in the least.
"Oh, he is merely filling in the time, as a matter of amusement," she
answered. "When I am ready he will be."
He looked at her earnestly.
"Is it fair to speak of love-making as a matter of amusement, Miss
Fern?"
"Love-making? Is he, then, practicing for his novel with Daisy, also?"
she inquired. "I am afraid he will get erroneous views of love in that
quarter. She is such a child that she can have little knowledge of the
subject."
She had evidently no suspicion of the truth, and he determined to become
more explicit.
"Perhaps that is exactly what he wishes," said he. "The virgin heart of
a young girl certainly affords tempting ground for the explorations of a
novelist."
For the first time she showed a slightly startled face.
"I trust you do not mean that Mr. Roseleaf is deceiving my sister with
pretended affection?" she said. "I did not think him that kind of man.
If he is making love to her, as you call it, surely she understands that
it is only for the purposes of his forthcoming novel?"
Mr. Weil drew a long breath.
"Is it possible," he asked, "that you do not know him better than even
to hint that suspicion? Shirley Roseleaf is honor personified. He would
not lead any woman to believe him her lover unless he truly felt the
sentiments he expressed."
Miss Fern looked much relieved.
"I am glad to hear you say so," she replied.
Archie was plunged into a new quandary. He had evidently made no
progress whatever thus far.
"No," he continued, slowly, "he has not deceived Miss Daisy. His love
for her is as true as steel. I understand their engagement is to be
announced in a few days."
If he had known the pain that these words would bring to their
hearer--if he had foreseen the anguish that was portrayed on that brow
and in those eyes--friend as he was of the young couple who had set him
to this errand, he would have shrunk from it. Millicent made no verbal
reply. Spasms chased each other over her white face. She seemed stricken
dumb. Her hands, lifted to her forehead, trembled visibly. And Mr. Weil
sat there, uncertain what to do, as silent as herself.
Gradually the force of the storm passed, and Miss Fern staggered faintly
to her feet. Mr. Weil offered to support her with his arms, but she
refused his aid with a motion that was unmistakable. She was making
every effort to conceal her agitation, and she dared not trust herself
with words. After taking a weak step or two, and finding that she could
not walk unassisted, she rested herself upon the arm of a large chair,
and signed to him to leave her. Much mortified, but knowing no other
course, he bowed profoundly and obeyed the signal.
The next morning he received the following letter at his hotel:
"MR. A. WEIL:--SIR: If you are in any respect a
gentleman--which I may be excused for doubting--you will
not allude in the presence of any one to the exhibition I
made to-day. Had I had the least preparation I could have
controlled myself. You adroitly took me at a complete
disadvantage, and you saw the result.
"I leave to-morrow for a new home. Never again shall I live
under the roof of those who have betrayed me. Do not think
I shall succumb to grief because of my sister's conduct.
She is welcome to her victory. No answer to this is
expected. Yours, M. A. F."
Luckily Archie had escaped from Midlands without meeting either Daisy or
Roseleaf, and he obeyed as strictly as possible the injunction he
received from the elder sister. All he would say was that he had
informed her of the engagement and that she had made no reply. When he
was told a day or two later that Millicent had left the house, he merely
remarked that he was not much surprised, as she was a girl of strong
will and usually did about as she pleased.
Mr. Fern, at first much distressed over his daughter's action, grew
reconciled when he thought of it more at length. He sent a liberal
allowance to her, which she did not return, and made arrangements by
which she could draw the same sum at her convenience at a bank in the
city.