dreaming her golden dreams, the young girl met and fell in love with a
poor artist--a boy, for he was only twenty-two, whose family was quite
unknown and who had nothing in the wide world but a profound belief in
his own great talent. The young girl went proudly and joyously with him
to the mother to tell of their happiness. The mother would only believe
that the boy was an adventurer--a fortune seeker; she saw an end to the
plans of her whole lifetime, an obscure future for the girl she had so
carefully educated. She sent the young man away and forbade his
communicating in any way with her daughter. For weeks the girl pleaded
vainly, the mother would not listen; in a fury of disappointment she
even locked her for days in her room, thinking to break the young will!
But there is an old saying that true love will find a way--the day came
when the young girl slipped away, joined her lover and a few hours later
returned to tell the mother that they had been married. Then it was
that anger and baffled pride drove out all love and justice from the
mother's heart; heaping curses upon the frightened girl she drove her
from her, bidding her never cross her path again! The girl and boy went
away and from that day to this the unhappy woman has never laid eyes
upon them. Her rage brought about a spell not unlike what she is having
now; for days and days she lay in her bed refusing to let anyone near
her. Then, finally, as the weeks grew into months, slowly into her
heart crept the realization of what she had done. Remorse began eating
at her soul. She tried vainly to find some trace of the daughter; with
only Elsbeth she wandered for month after month over every country of
the globe, seeking everywhere! She spent almost a fortune on her
search. But there was never a sign. It was as if the world had
swallowed them. And, finally, broken by her sorrow, unhappy and
discouraged, without any friends and with only a little of her former
wealth left, she came back to this city and to this old house. It looked
then just the way it does now. She threw out anything in it that might
make it even a little cheerful and then settled down to die! But life,
cruelly enough, has hung on and on! I have learned her story from
things she has told me; for some strange reason she has seemed to want
to confide in me. And Elsbeth, too, has sometimes softened a little and
talked about the old days! That is her sad story, my dear! I know,
now, how tender you will always be with her and I have often thought
that perhaps you may remind her--a little--of the--lost baby, because
you are young and like a flower, too!"
Two bright spots of color burned in Renee's cheeks. To herself she was
saying: "_Wait_ until I tell Pat!" The thrill of the secret of the lost
baby held her more than any sympathy for the old lady; perhaps deep in
her heart some sense of justice told her that the proud mother had had
just the punishment she deserved.
Mrs. Lee had turned toward the door. "The doctor is going! Wait here,
Renee, until I call you. He may have some directions to give."
Renee looked about the room. What a horrible place! Even the gold of
the sunlight dimmed to a cold lustre as it lay across the dusty surface
of the shabby furniture! Everything was so unspeakably ugly and so
still! She suddenly felt very lonely. A moment's wild impulse tempted
her to run back to Pat as fast as her feet could fly! They had been
having such fun fixing the costumes; the pink-curtained room had been so
cheery, Peter Pan had been singing so lustily--why should she stay here?
Except for the low murmur of voices from the hall where Mrs. Lee was
talking to the doctor, the only sound to break the awful stillness was
the loud ticking of old Elsbeth's clock in the kitchen. It had a
mournfully resentful tick as much as to say to its unhappy listeners:
"No matter how wretched you feel, I go on--I go on--I go on!"
The door going into the room where Mrs. Forrester lay was closed. As
she thought of crossing its threshold little Renee shuddered. A fear
she could not explain gripped her! After all, she was only a little
girl; she had never seen anyone suffer--except Gabriel when he was
tortured with his rheumatism; she had never seen anyone die--her own
dear mother had seemed to just go to sleep! And what if Mrs. Forrester
should die? If she wanted to go back home, surely Mrs. Lee would let
her go!
And then, as she waited, bits of the story Mrs. Lee had told her flashed
back across her thoughts and held her. Now her sympathy was not so much
for the girl bride as for the poor, lonely mother, wandering
broken-hearted, over the world!
"The poor thing!" she said aloud, and then jumped at the sound of her
own voice.
A door closed behind the doctor; Mrs. Lee came into the room.
"She is quiet now. The doctor says there is no danger. It is all her
nerves. Only--women her age can't indulge in hysterics without serious
results! What a picture you are in all this gloom, child! It's a
strange coincidence that you should have had this dress on! Perhaps it
will rouse her."
Somehow, now, Renee did not feel a bit like asking to go home. She was
not even very much afraid. With Mrs. Lee she stepped softly down the
dim hall toward the closed door.
"Anything, Renee, that will make her forget herself will help her,"
whispered Mrs. Lee. "Tell her about Keineth's party--anything!" They
walked into the room. The doctor had raised one of the cracked shades
so that the sun was slanting in. Mrs. Lee had put some extra pillows
under the patient's head; she was half-sitting, a pathetically little
figure in the great ugly bed. Her face was turned toward the wall. She
lay perfectly still; Renee might have thought that, like her mother, she
was sleeping, except that her thin fingers twitched at the edge of the
bedspread.
"I have brought Renee," Mrs. Lee said softly.
There was no answer.
"Perhaps you would like to have her stay with you for a little while!"
"Oh--go away--_all_ of you!" came pettishly. "Can't you let an old woman
die in peace? Will it ever come?" she moaned into her pillow.
Renee felt so indignant that anyone should be praying like this to die
that she stepped to the side of the bed.
"But the doctor says you are _not_ going to die," she answered quickly,
with a stubborn note in her sweet voice.
The moment she had spoken she was very frightened but she could not have
said anything that would have so quickly roused the old lady. It roused
her because it angered her; she jerked her head around. However, what
she might have retorted in answer was checked by her utter amazement at
seeing the strange, quaint little figure by her bedside.
"Who are you?" she demanded angrily. "Who let you in here?"
The child stepped closer. "I'm Renee!" she answered gently.
"You that little Renee? Come here!" Mrs. Forrester commanded stretching
out a thin hand.
Renee stepped close to the head of the bed and leaned over. Mrs.
Forrester touched her cheek and her hair.
"So it is! So it is!" and her voice softened. Then a gleam of sunlight
from the unshaded window struck across the curious old locket. Suddenly
the sick woman sat bolt upright in bed and clutched with both hands at
the red band.
"_That--that----_" she screamed. "Where did you get it?" She tore at
the velvet band until it hurt Renee cruelly. Her voice rose to a
shriek. "_It is hers! My baby!_"
As her fingers fumbled over the face of the locket a part of it suddenly
opened and from a hiding place within dropped a tiny gold key! The old
lady cried loudly and held it up.
"_I knew it! I knew it!_" Then she sank back among the pillows, turned
slowly to Renee and whispered hoarsely:
"But who are you?"
*CHAPTER XXI*
*RENEE'S BOX*
"Who are you?"
Of course they all thought Mrs. Forrester was having a spell! Renee was
terribly frightened--the more so because now one of the thin hands was
gripping her arm so that it hurt.
Elsbeth, more wild and disheveled than ever, pushed at Renee and leaned
over the bed, a tumbler in one hand, some powders in the other.
"Mis' Forrester! _Please_, Mis' Forrester!" she pleaded, tears running
down her wrinkled cheeks.
But Mrs. Forrester struck angrily at the hand holding the powders and
sent them in a tiny cloud of dust all over the covers.
"Go away, you old fool!" she cried, "can't you see I've found my baby?
No one else anywhere in the world had a locket like that!"
Mrs. Lee suddenly remembered who it was that Renee had looked like! It
was the faded picture Elsbeth had once shown her of the young daughter
of Mrs. Forrester! She stepped forward now and answered for Renee.
"She is Renee LaDue, but I think--I believe--she _must_ be your
grandchild!"
Mrs. Forrester was sitting bolt upright and the pillows had fallen all
about her. Two bright spots of red burned on her cheeks and her eyes,
as they stared through and through Renee, were alight with life. She
was a different creature from the one who had lain limply on the ugly
bed, her face turned toward the wall! Only her voice still sounded weak
and shrill.
"Your mother--answer, child!"
Then, more than anything else in the world, Renee wanted to run away!
But the hand on her arm held her tight. And, too, who was this old lady
who had known that the key was in the locket when she and Emile had not
known it?
"My mother's name was Amy----"
"My baby!" Now the old lady sank back among the pillows; she commenced
to sob--dry, heart-breaking sobs, "My baby! You are her little girl! I
have found her!"
And then a strange thing happened! For suddenly Renee lost all her fear
and over her swept a joy that she had found someone--someone to really,
truly belong to! So very shyly she reached out and took one of the thin
hands in her own.
Mrs. Lee gently told the old woman as much of Renee as she knew; how the
mother had died five years before, how she had made the brother promise
to some day bring the little girl back to America to live, how the
brother had given his life for France, the country of his mother's
adoption, and an American officer had fulfilled the promise. As she
listened Mrs. Forrester kept her eyes fastened on Renee's face and Renee
held tightly to the trembling hand.
When Mrs. Lee had finished Mrs. Forrester lay still for a long time.
Then she said softly: "God has been good to a wicked old woman because
my flower had gone to Heaven and pleaded for me! I am forgiven." And
she closed her eyes as though at last a peace of soul had come upon her!
"Is--is the key--a key to a box?" Renee asked.
Her grandmother roused suddenly.
"Yes--yes! A leather box--have you got it? My grandmother gave it to my
darling--with the locket--when she was fifteen."
"My mother gave it to Emile just before--she died! She never told him
about the key but she made him promise to let no one break it open. And
of course we never would!"
"Shall I go and get it?" asked Mrs. Lee. She felt that for a little
while it might be better to leave the old lady and the child alone.
Renee made a move as though to go, too, but Mrs. Lee motioned her back.
"Aunt Pen will tell me where I can find it! You stay here, my dear,"
and she hurried away.
Elsbeth had been watching the unusual happenings with a suspicious,
jealous eye. She loved her strange old mistress better than anything on
earth; she resented these strangers usurping her place!
"Missus had best lay down now and keep quiet," she said, coming forward
with an authoritative air. "If ye'll jes' take a powder----" But she
got no further; Mrs. Forrester burst into a laugh! And Elsbeth was so
startled that her knees knocked together, for, not for many years, had
she heard her mistress laugh--and such a laugh!
"Elsbeth, stupid, can't you see I'm a well woman? That I am happy again?
None of your powders any more! Go about your business--ransack your
pantry and find some food for my pretty one here! My flower--my baby!"
And with a look that transformed her thin face she lifted her arms and
closed them about little Renee.
"Tell me," she whispered, as though it must be a secret between them,
"was she ever unhappy?"
Renee answered very slowly because she was thinking very hard. She
tried to make the mother know that her own dear mother had been always
cheerful, always singing and telling beautiful stories and playing with
her among the flowers--and was only unhappy when Emile brought out the
father's tools.
"That was because he had been blind, and I heard her tell Emile once
that his heart had broken because he could not do his work! For a long
time she guided his fingers for him! She herself used to take the
things they made to Paris to sell, and, when she couldn't sell them, she
and Susette used to hide them so he couldn't know--Susette told me all
that! I think we were very, very poor, but my mother always seemed
happy. She used to sew sometimes, until she was very tired. We never
had anything but the flowers to play with and the games she used to make
up. And she always talked of the time when she would bring us both to
America! 'It was my country and it must be yours,' she used to tell us
over and over!"
"Did she--did she--ever tell you--about me?"
Renee hesitated. She knew that what she must say would hurt the old
lady deeply. But before she could speak Mrs. Forrester answered
herself.
"Of course she would not! I had forbidden it!" and in her voice was the
bitterness of remorse.
Then Renee told her of the cottage at St. Cloud where, since as far back
as she could remember, they had lived with Susette and Gabriel. She
told, too, of Emile and the days when he had gone to Paris to study with
an old sculptor, and how bravely he had gone away to war with a company
from St. Cloud!
Mrs. Forrester pushed Renee's hair back and looked intently at her.
"I can see it now! You are like her--a little! But your eyes are
like--your father's."
There were voices in the hall and in a moment Mrs. Lee and Aunt Pen
walked into the room. Aunt Pen was greatly excited and came straight to
Renee.
"I am so glad, my dear," she whispered.
But no one had eyes for anything but the queer old box which Mrs. Lee
had placed upon the bed.
"How old it looks," sighed Mrs. Forrester, caressing for a moment the
worn leather. Her fingers trembled so that she could not hold the tiny
key and it was Renee who fitted it into the lock and turned it. It
turned slowly and the lid fell back, revealing packages of papers and
letters, tied neatly together.
Although not knowing exactly what she had always imagined was in the
box, Renee was vaguely disappointed! But Mrs. Forrester fell to eagerly
sorting over the packages. Lying loose among them was a folded sheet,
addressed to herself.
"Her writing!" she cried, holding it close to her eyes. "Read it for
me--I cannot."
"Dearest of mothers," Renee read. The writing showed that the letter
had been written under stress of deep emotion. "It was only because he
needed me so much, for the doctors had told him his eyesight was slowly
going, that I could hurt you by acting against your wishes. And
sometime you may know that I have always loved you dearly and that I
forgive you as I pray you will forgive me."
"Oh, my darling," and a flood of tears dropped on the sheet of paper.
"It is as though she was speaking to me!" she whispered, kissing the
lines. And indeed a great stillness held the room as though each of
those in it felt, too, the spirit of Renee's young mother among them!
Mrs. Forrester, her eyes still dim with tears, spread out the other
papers and she and Mrs. Lee and Aunt Pen fell to examining them, while
Renee watched, feeling as though it was all a dream.
They found an old journal whose contents explained how John LaDue, who
before his marriage with Amy Forrester had been John Tellers, had gone
with his young bride to Paris where they had taken the name of LaDue.
Living as they did in simple obscurity, and because John Tellers had
been born and brought up among the French-speaking people of New
Orleans, it was very easy for them to pass as a young French sculptor
and his wife. And the friends they made were other young artists,
struggling along like themselves, who could know nothing about the
proud, unhappy woman who was traveling all over the world, seeking her
daughter!
The journal stopped abruptly at the record of Renee's birth. Renee
remembered Susette telling her that it was when she had been a tiny baby
that her father had become totally blind and they had moved to St. Cloud
that he might have the benefit of the pure air and the sunshine.
Aunt Pen discovered a package of papers that proved to be United States
government bonds. They had been given to Renee's mother on her
twentieth birthday, six months before her marriage. They had not been
touched. Penelope exclaimed:
"A small fortune! And they are Renee's!"
Many thoughts were shaping in poor Renee's sadly bewildered little head.
She had now, what Peggy always called "folks"--a grandmother and
Elsbeth; even though it was an ugly old house she'd have a real, real
home all of her own! She would _not_ have to go to the mountain place
with her guardian and the strange French soldier! And yet that
disturbed her a little. Emile had, in a way, given her into the
guardian's keeping and not to a strange old woman! So, even though
belonging to so many, Renee felt torn and unhappy. And she looked
almost scornfully at the packet which Aunt Pen held up as though
precious--how _could_ just plain papers like that be a fortune!
Mrs. Forrester, who looked less and less like a sick woman, commenced to
slowly gather up the papers and place them back neatly in the leather
box. When she shut down the lid she turned to Renee.
"I thank God that He has shown me His mercy! I have not deserved to find
my darling. But I have been punished! No one knows how I have
suffered! And maybe, even now, I am not fit to have you. I am an ugly
old woman who has cast everything beautiful out of her life! Perhaps I
have no right to keep you! You have good friends--go back to them, only
keep in your heart a kind thought for an old woman----"
"Oh, I'll _stay_--I'd rather!" and Renee was quite startled that she
could decide so quickly.
"You mean it? Oh, my baby--my pretty flower!" Then a sudden resolution
lighted the old woman's face. "It will be as though that motherhood I
sacrificed by my wicked pride was given back to me! Oh, I _know_ how
wicked and wrong I was and how I wanted for my precious one only the
things that my own pride clamored for! But you shall not stay now--my
pretty flower would wither and fade in these ugly walls. I am well,
again--and Elsbeth and I will clean out this place! It shall be made
bright and pretty for my little one! You must go now, back with your
good friends, then after a little----"
Every one thought that was best. Elsbeth came in with a tray of
sandwiches and some cocoa. Every one was hungry because the dinner hour
was long past and, in the excitement, had been forgotten. And as they
ate, Mrs. Forrester, like a new creature, began energetically to give
Elsbeth orders as to what she must do on the morrow to begin the work of
transforming the ugly old house into a beautiful home for her "pretty
flower."
Then, one by one, they said good-night to Mrs. Forrester, and Renee,
leaning over, kissed her and whispered shyly:
"Good-night, grandmother! Very soon I will come back--to stay."
*CHAPTER XXII*
*SURPRISES*
"Dinner is served, Miss Pat!"
"Why, Aunt Pen and Renee are not here," cried Pat, looking up from a
book.
"Miss Everett said that dinner should not wait! It is a quarter past
seven."
"But my father----"
"Mr. Everett is dining out."
"Well, I never!" Pat threw down her book crossly. Drawing herself to
her full height, she stalked down the length of the room on into the
dining-room, where, at the end of the long table, alight with the
sparkle of silver, glass and china, one lonely place had been set.
She wanted very much to throw a plate at Jasper who was biting his lip
to keep from laughing at her aggrieved air. Instead she tossed her head
higher and, in her haughtiest manner, ordered:
"Jasper, will you see at once what Melodia has made for dessert and,
_whatever_ it is, tell her that I want two extra big helpings!"
"_So there!_" she muttered to his retreating back and felt much better!
Pat had really had a very bad afternoon. She had not liked one bit
having Renee rush away in the midst of all their fun fixing their
costumes! She had helped Renee and Renee had left her to fix her own.
She had felt decidedly aggrieved. Of course she was sorry for the sick
old lady, but didn't Renee love her more than anyone else? Or didn't
she?
When a little girl begins to ponder in such a fashion she can soon work
herself into a sad state of blues. That was what Pat did! So that when
Aunt Pen returned with a feather duster made of the biggest, brightest
feathers that had ever grown to grace a young Indian princess, Pat
didn't care whether or not she even went to Keineth's party!
Then the climax of her unhappiness was reached after Mrs. Lee rushed in
with the story of the locket and the key. Aunt Pen and Pat had listened
with eyes wide with astonishment.
"Oh, it's _just_ like a fairy story!" Pat had cried.
"Dear Renee! It will mean a home of her own for the child! I will get
the box at once."
Pat was startled--a home of Renee's own! She had felt that they might
coax the soldier-guardian to leave Renee with them forever and ever, but
here was a new and much stronger claim! A real grandmother--even if it
was a terrible old lady who had had a mystery!
Aunt Pen came back wearing her coat and hat. Pat jumped to her feet.
"Wait for me, Aunt Pen!"
"No, no, my dear! Too many of us may embarrass Mrs. Forrester! You
must stay here."
"As if _I_ hadn't found Renee in the first place," thought Pat
resentfully as they went away.
Even the thought that the mystery of the "lost baby" had been
solved--and solved in such an amazing way, brought no comfort--rather a
sense of envy! All the others had had _such_ exciting things happen to
them! Sheila had had the lost formulas. And now Renee had the
excitement of finding a grandmother! Nothing at all ever happened to
her! To console herself she scornfully tore to bits the first four
chapters of her story. She'd never try to be a famous author--she'd
just grow up and do silly things like Celia always did--they were fun,
anyway! And Aunt Pen and Renee, when they realized that she was never,
never going to write any more stories, would feel _very_ sorry!
That was Pat's state of mind when she sat down to eat her lonely dinner.
Then the doorbell rang. Pat heard a man's voice talking to Jasper. She
heard Jasper step toward the library. She was immensely curious--for
even a very unhappy person can be curious! Daddy was not at home--it
was too early in the evening for callers--who could it be? She pushed
her chair back and tip-toed toward the hall.
An hour later Aunt Pen and Renee, returning home, were met at the door
by a wildly-excited Pat. Her blues had disappeared like magic--the
expression of her face, every motion of her body indicated that she had
a secret! She held her fingers to her lips to forbid a sound. Then
seizing them both by the elbows she whispered into their amazed ears:
"Oh, the _bestest, grandest_ surprise you ever, _ever_ knew!" And Pat
danced up and down and giggled deep in her throat to make them know that
grandmothers and lost babies were as nothing compared to the surprise
she had for them within the house!
"Pat Everett, are you _crazy_?" whispered Aunt Pen back. "Aren't you
going to let us in?"
"Of course!" answered Pat with importance. "You may walk in and go at
_once_ into the library! But you must shut your eyes _tight_ and promise
not to peek until I count----"
"It's your mother!" declared Penelope, eagerly.
"Nopey--it's a bigger surprise than that! No fair guessing, only you
couldn't anyway! Now come in and shut your eyes!"
So they had to do just what Pat told them to do! And Pat, happier than
she had ever been in her life, dancing rather than stepping, led them
into the library. She had no chance to count--a sudden, quick
exclamation made them both open their eyes!
For some one had said: "Pen--Everett!" But Renee's sharp cry drowned
out the sound. She saw, standing a little behind Capt. Allan, thin in
his shabby French uniform, the empty sleeve pinned to his tunic,
Emile--her beloved Emile!