IT IS ONE THING TO ADMIRE A PRETTY GIRL, QUITE ANOTHER THING TO FALL IN
LOVE WITH HER.
The next afternoon Sally Pendleton watched behind closed blinds as her
sister drove off, proud and happy as a queen, in Jay Gardiner's handsome
carriage. Louise Pendleton kissed her finger-tips gracefully to the
blinds, behind which she knew her rebellious sister was watching.
The drive through the country roads was delightful, it was such a fine
day, so bright, so sunshiny. Jay Gardiner seemed to feel the influence
of it, and almost unconsciously cast aside the mantle of haughtiness and
pride, in which he usually wrapped himself, in order to make it pleasant
for the beautiful, graceful girl whom fortune and fate had flung in his
way.
Louise realized what a golden chance she was having, and made the best
of it.
That was the beginning of the strangest romance that ever was written.
When Jay Gardiner helped his fair companion from the buggy, Louise
Pendleton looked shyly into her companion's face, murmuring that she
had had the most delightful drive of her life.
"I am glad you are so well pleased," answered Jay, raising his straw hat
with a low bow; adding, gallantly: "I must take your sister out and show
her what beautiful roads we have here."
Louise was thoroughly diplomatic. A hot flush rose to her face, but she
crushed back the words that sprung to her lips, saying sweetly:
"You are indeed thoughtful, Mr. Gardiner. I am sure Sally will
appreciate it."
"We will arrange it for to-morrow," he said. "I would be delighted to
have you accompany us. I will drop in at the hop this evening, and you
can let me know."
Louise and her mother had a long talk that afternoon.
"I think she may as well go with you," said the mother. "I am positive
that he will prefer you to your sister. Fair men usually like their
opposites in complexion."
The following afternoon the two sisters went driving with handsome Jay
in his splendid T-cart, and were the envy of every girl in the village.
He did his best to entertain them. He drove them over to Great
Barrington, and through the spacious grounds that surrounded the Castle.
The eyes of both sisters glowed as they caught sight of the magnificent,
palatial house, and each resolved, in the depths of her heart, that this
should be her home, and that she should reign mistress there.
Jay Gardiner divided his attentions so equally between the two sisters
that neither could feel the least bit slighted.
The fortnight that followed flew by on golden wings.
There was not a day that Jay Gardiner did not take the two sisters on
some sight-seeing expedition.
Every one began to wonder which of the sisters was the favorite.
Mrs. Pendleton watched affairs with the keenest interest.
"If he has a preference for either, it is certainly Louise," she told
herself. "Sally seems content that it should be so."
All night long, after these afternoon excursions, both girls would seek
their pillows, and dream the whole night through of handsome Jay
Gardiner.
Louise would talk of him all the following morning, but Sally uttered no
word; her secret was buried down in the depths of her heart.
Other young men of the village sought a pleasant word or a smile from
gay, capricious Sally Pendleton. But she would have none of them.
"I will have a millionaire or nothing," she said, with a little laugh.
On two or three occasions, much to Sally's chagrin, Mr. Gardiner invited
Louise to drive without her.
"That shows which way the wind is beginning to blow," she thought; and
she looked at her sister critically.
Louise and her mother often had long conferences when she came in from
her rambles with him.
"Has he spoken?" Mrs. Pendleton would ask; and she always received the
same answer in a disappointed tone--"No!"
"Any other girl would have had a declaration from the young man before
this time."
"If I could make the man propose, I would be his betrothed without a
day's delay," Louise would reply, quite discontentedly.
Sally would turn away quickly before they had time to notice the
expression on her face.
One day, in discussing the matter, Mr. Pendleton observed his younger
daughter gazing fixedly at her mother and Louise.
"Love affairs do not interest you, Sally," he said, with a laugh. "My
dear," he said, suddenly, "you are not at all like your mother in
disposition. Could you ever love any one very much?"
"I do not know, papa," she answered. "I do not love many people. I only
care for a few. In the way you mean, love would be a fire with me, not a
sentiment."
How vividly the words came back to him afterward when her love proved a
devastating fire!
She had turned suddenly to the window, and seemed to forget his
question.
No one knew what a depth of passion there was in the heart of this girl.
If any one should have asked her what she craved most on earth, she
would have replied, on the spur of the moment--"Love!"