WHAT THE CHIMNEY HELD
The storm, sweeping down the valley, had reached the heighth of its
fury over Freedom.
As the flashes of lightning grew sharper and more frequent, B'lindy
bade Miss Milly watch the baby while she made things fast around the
house. Beth women had been hanging over the sleeping child with
something like awe. "Poor little mite--like as not right this minit
Sarah Hopkins is watchin' us," B'lindy had whispered, "little bit of a
thing, goin' to grow into a big, big man some day! Ain't it just
_wonderful_, Milly Leavitt?"
Milly's awe of the baby had been mixed with alarm at the increasing
intensity of the storm. So that, as B'lindy moved to go, she held out
an imploring hand.
"Now you just hold yourself together, Milly Leavitt--that storm ain't
goin' to hurt you! Anyways, it's lots more likely to if I don't see
that everything's shut up tight, so's the lightnin' can't get in!
_Ouch!_" Even B'lindy covered her eyes from a blinding flash. "You
hold on to that baby, Milly Leavitt," she commanded, bolting from the
room.
But with each flash, each roar of thunder, poor Miss Milly's courage
ebbed. Her cry--rising above, the noise of the storm brought Miss
Sabrina and B'lindy to her.
"I can't--help--it!" she sobbed, covering her face. "It's so--so
dreadful! And where's--Nancy! Oh--oh!"
Even Miss Sabrina's face was pale with alarm.
"You two women are like so many children," cried B'lindy, taking
command. "Milly Leavitt, you'll work yourself into fits. Nancy's all
right somewheres! I guess Peter Hyde's man enough to take care of
her--mebbe they ain't where this storm is, anyways! Sabrina--you take
that baby where Milly's yellin' won't wake it. Goodness knows the
crashin's bad enough! Now Milly, you just hide your poor head in my
lap," with grand tenderness, "_I_ ain't afraid a bit."
Sabrina had no choice--B'lindy had put the baby into her arms and
almost shoved her to the door.
She carried it to her own room and sat down very carefully. Never in
her whole life had she held a little baby. What would she do if it
wakened suddenly? And if it kicked and squirmed, might she not drop it?
But the baby did not kick or squirm--he felt very comfortable in Miss
Sabrina's arms--he snuggled ever so gently a little closer, turned his
face toward the warmth of her embrace, and throwing up one little arm,
laid it against her throat. The warm, soft baby fingers burned against
Sabrina's throbbing pulse--the little spark crept down, down to her
old, cold heart and kindled something there--something that swept her
whole being. Cautiously she held the baby closer, pressed it to her
breast so that she might feel the whole perfect little body; the little
lips twisted and Sabrina, thinking it was a smile, smiled back with
infinite tenderness. She forgot the storm raging without, her ears
were deaf to its roar; after a little she leaned her head down until
she could lay her cheek against the baby's soft head.
Within the darkened room a miracle was working!
Suddenly the air was split by a sharp crackle as of a hundred rifles
spitting fire close at hand; and simultaneously came a deafening roar
as though the very Heavens were dropping with a crash. Through it all
pierced Aunt Milly's scream. The walls of Happy House trembled and
swayed; for a moment everything went black before Sabrina's eyes! Then
B'lindy, running through the hall brought her sharply back to her
senses.
"We're struck--we're struck! Sabrin'y! Jonathan!"
Once more Happy House had been struck by lightning! The crashing had
been the tumbling of the bricks of the chimney. And just as in that
other storm, long before, the lightning had worked its vengeance on the
old mantel. It lay in pieces on the floor of the sitting-room, covered
with a litter of broken bric-a-brac and mortar and bricks from the
chimney.
But in the fear of fire no one thought of the mantel. B'lindy ran
wildly around ordering Jonathan to throw buckets of water on any cranny
that might possibly conceal a smouldering flame, at the same time
heaping all kinds of curses down upon the heads of the neighbors who'd
"let Happy House burn right to the ground without liftin' a finger."
And Sabrina, after one look at the lightning's havoc, still with the
baby in her arms, had gone to quiet Miss Milly.
When Jonathan's activity had threatened to destroy everything in the
house with water, B'lindy finally became convinced that there was to be
no fire. "Funniest lightnin' I ever see," she declared, breathlessly
dropping into a chair; "set down that pail, Jonathan--you've most
drowned us all. Thank Heaven, here comes Nancy."
Nancy and Peter, after one glance at the bricks scattered over the
garden, had guessed what had happened.
"Struck,--sure as preachin'! Lucky we ain't burned to a _crisp_. Just
_look_ at the muss!" and B'lindy swept her arm toward the sitting-room
door.
Nancy's face was tragic as she saw the broken mantel and the gaping
fireplace. She clutched Peter's arm. "What a pity--what a _shame_!
It was so very old and--and----" She leaned down and picked up one of
the pieces. "Look, Peter, here are parts of the letters! See H-A-P.
It had been cracked by another lightning storm, you know, years and
years ago! Oh, I'm afraid it has been destroyed so that----" as she
spoke she searched in the debris on the floor for more of the carving.
Suddenly she cried out sharply and, straightening, held out an old,
worn, stained leather wallet. "Peter! B'lindy! _Aunt Sabrina!_"
Her cry brought Miss Sabrina, alarmed, running.
"It _must--be--the_--wallet!"
Now it was Sabrina who cried out--a protesting, frightened cry. For a
moment she staggered as though she was going to fall; Nancy's strong
arm went closely around her.
"Look quickly, dear Aunt Sabrina," Nancy implored.
With trembling fingers Aunt Sabrina opened it--within lay mouldy,
age-worn bank-notes--many of them!
"It must have fallen behind the mantel in that other storm," cried
Nancy. Then a great joy shone in her face. "He _didn't_ take
it--Anne's grandfather!" she stopped abruptly. But Miss Sabrina had
not even heard her, and Peter was too mystified by the whole thing to
think Nancy's words strange. Miss Sabrina turned, with a stricken face.
"Anne--I--I can't think! What--what--wrong--have I done? Oh, God
forgive me!" She threw her arms up over her head. Her grief was
terrible because it was strange. Even Nancy, frightened, drew away.
"Oh, God, give back the years----" she moaned.
"It--is--too--late." She lifted a white, frightened face. "I
must---be alone! Don't let anyone disturb me. Tell them, Anne--tell
them--everything!" And with the wallet in her hand she went quickly
but of the room.
Nancy turned to Peter, a triumph in her manner that was in strange
contrast to Miss Sabrina's sorrow. She held her hand out toward the
broken marble.
"_What_ a story!" she cried, "over two generations that ugly old mantel
concealed the vindication of a man's honor!" Then, laughing at Peter's
puzzled face, she told him briefly the story of the trouble that had
hung over Happy House shadowing and embittering the lives of those
beneath its roof.
"And, Peter, it has gone with the storm! Oh, you don't know what that
means!" she cried, because Peter _could_ not know that she did not
rejoice for herself, but because, now, there need be no barriers
between Happy House and her own dear Anne--the real Anne Leavitt.
"After awhile--it _will_ be Happy House," she ended, enigmatically.
She walked with him to the door.
"What a day it has been," she laughed, catching her breath. "I feel as
though it had been weeks ago that we started off! I've forgotten how
wet we were," she pulled at her blouse. "Run away now, Peter, for I
must break the wonderful news to Aunt Milly and B'lindy, and, as
B'lindy would say--"there's a pile of work's got to be done!"
"Nancy, the day isn't over yet!" Peter hesitated. "There's going to
be a gorgeous sunset to-night--won't you come into the orchard--just
for a little while?"
"Silly--haven't you seen enough of me for one day?"
His look spoke more eloquently than could any words.
"_I_ have something to tell _you_!" he said, gravely.