Michael had slept perhaps an hour when he was roused by the sound of
voices, a sharp, hateful one with an unpleasant memory in it, and a
sweet, dear one that went to his very soul.
“Sit down here, Aunt Frances. There is no one about: Papa is asleep and
Michael has not yet returned from a trip out West. You can talk without
fear of being heard.”
“Michael, Michael!” sniffed the voice. “Well, that’s what I came to
talk to you about. I didn’t want to say anything out there where the
chauffeur could hear; he is altogether too curious and might talk with
the servants about it. I wouldn’t have it get out for the world. Your
mother would have been mortified to death about all this, and I can’t
see what your father is thinking about. He never did seem to have much
sense where you were concerned—!”
“Aunt Frances!”
“Well, I can’t help it. He doesn’t. Now take this matter of your being
down here, and the very thought of you’re calling that fellow
Michael,—as if he were a cousin or something! Why, it’s simply
disgusting! I hoped you were going to stay out West until your father
was well enough to go away somewhere with you; but now that you have
come back I think you ought to leave here at once. People will begin to
talk, and I don’t like it. Why, the fellow will be presuming on it to
be intimate with you—”
Michael was suddenly roused to the fact that he was listening to a
conversation not intended for his ears, and yet he had no way of
getting out of hearing without passing the door in the front of which
the two women were seated. Both the dining-room, door and the stairs
were on the other side of the room from him and he would have to run
the risk of being seen, by either or both of them if he attempted to
cross to them. The windows were screened by wire nailed over the whole
length, so he could not hope to get successfully out of any of them.
There was nothing for it but to lie still, and pretend to be asleep if
they discovered him afterwards. It was an embarrassing situation but it
was none of his choosing.
There was a slight stir outside, Starr had risen, and was standing with
her back to the doorway.
“Aunt Frances! What do you mean? Michael is our honored and respected
friend, our protector—our—host. Think what he did for papa! Risked his
life!”
“Stuff and nonsense! Risked his life. He took the risk for perfectly
good reasons. He knew how to worm himself into the family again—”
“Aunt Frances! I will not hear you say such dreadful things. Michael is
a gentleman, well-educated, with the highest ideals and principles. If
you knew how self-sacrificing and kind he is!”
“Kind, yes kind!” sniffed the aunt, “and what will you think about it
when he asks you to marry him? Will you think he is kind to offer you a
share in the inheritance of a nobody—a charity—dependent—a child of the
slums? If you persist in your foolishness of staying here you will
presently have all New York gossiping about you, and then when you are
in disgrace—I suppose you will turn to me to help you out of it.”
“Stop!” cried Starr. “I will not listen to another word. What do you
mean by disgrace? There could be no disgrace in marrying Michael. The
girl who marries him will be the happiest woman in the whole world. He
is good and true and unselfish to the heart’s core. There isn’t the
slightest danger of his ever asking me to marry him, Aunt Frances,
because I am very sure he loves another girl and is engaged to marry
her; and she is a nice girl too. But if it were different, if he were
free and asked me to marry him I would feel as proud and glad as if a
prince of the highest realm had asked me to share his throne with him.
I would rather marry Michael than any man I ever met, and I don’t care
in the least whether he is a child of the slums or a child of a king. I
know what he is, and he is a prince among men.”
“Oh, really! Has it come to this? Then you are in love with him already
and my warning comes too late, does it? Answer me! Do you fancy
yourself in love with him.”
“Aunt Frances, you have no right to ask me that question,” said Starr
steadily, her cheeks very red and her eyes very bright.
Michael was sitting bolt upright on the couch now, utterly forgetful of
the dishonor of eavesdropping, fairly holding his breath to listen and
straining his ears that he might lose no slightest word. He was
devouring the dear, straight, little form in the doorway with his eyes,
and her every word fell on his tired heart like raindrops in a thirsty
land, making the flowers of hope spring forth and burst into lovely
bloom.
“Well, I do ask it!” snapped the aunt hatefully. “Come, answer me, do
you love him?”
“That, Aunt Frances, I shall never answer to anybody but Michael. I
must refuse to hear another word on this subject.”
“Oh, very well, good-bye. I’ll leave you to your silly fate, but don’t
expect me to help you out of trouble if you get into it. I’ve warned
you and I wash my hands of you,” and the angry woman flouted out to her
waiting car, but the girl stood still in the doorway and said with
dignity:
“Good afternoon, Aunt Frances. I shall never ask your help in any way.”
Starr watched the car out of sight, great tears welling into her eyes
and rolling down her cheeks. Michael sat breathless on the couch and
tried to think what he ought to do; while his very being was rippling
with the joy of the words she had spoken.
Then she turned and saw him, and he stood up and held out his arms.
“Starr, my little Starr! My darling! Did you mean all you said? Would
you really marry me? I’ve loved you always, Starr, since first I saw
you a tiny little child; I’ve loved your soft baby kisses and those
others you gave me later when you were a little girl and I an awkward
boy. You never knew how dear they were, nor how I used to go to sleep
at night dreaming over and over again, those kisses on my face. Oh,
Starr! answer me? Did you mean it all? And could you ever love me? You
said you would answer that question to no one else but me. Will you
answer it now, darling?”
For answer she came and stood within his arms, her eyes down-drooped,
her face all tears and smiles, and he folded her within his strong
clasp and stooping, whispered softly:
“Starr, little darling—my life—my love—my—_wife_!”
And then he laid his lips against hers and held her close.
Three weeks later when the roses were all aburst of bloom over the
porch at Rose Cottage and June was everywhere with her richness and
perfection of beauty, Starr and Michael were married on the piazza
under an arch of roses; and a favored few of society’s cream motored
down to Old Orchard to witness the ceremony. In spite of all her
disagreeable predictions and ugly threats Aunt Frances was among them,
smiling and dominating.
“Yes, so sensible of her not to make a fuss with her wedding just now,
when her father is getting his strength back again. Of course she could
have come to my house and been married. I begged her to—naturally she
shrank from another wedding in connection with the old home you
know—but her father seemed to dread coming into town and so I advised
her to go ahead and be married here. Isn’t it a charming place? So
rustic you know, and quite simple and artistic too in its way. Michael
has done it all, planned the house and everything, of course with
Starr’s help. You know it’s quite a large estate, belonged to Michael’s
great grandfather once, several hundred acres, and he has used part of
it for charitable purposes; has a farm school or something for poor
slum people, and is really teaching them to be quite decent. I’m sure I
hope they’ll be duly grateful. See those roses? Aren’t they perfectly
_dear_?”
It was so she chattered to those in the car with her all the way down
to the farm; and to see her going about among the guests and smiling
and posing to Michael when he happened to come near her, you would have
thought the match all of her making, and never have dreamed that it was
only because Michael’s great forgiving heart had said: “Oh, forgive her
and ask her down. She is your mother’s sister, you know, and you’ll be
glad you did it afterwards. Never mind what she says. She can’t help
her notions. It was her unfortunate upbringing, and she’s as much to be
pitied as I for my slum education.”
The pretty ceremony under the roses was over, and Starr had gone
upstairs to change the simple embroidered muslin for her travelling
frock and motor coat, for Michael and Starr were to take their
honeymoon in their own new car, a wedding gift from their father; and
Endicott himself was to go to his sister’s by rail in the company of
Will French, to stay during their absence and be picked up by them on
their homeward route.
Michael stood among his friends on the piazza giving last directions to
French who was to look after his law business also during his absence,
and who was eager to tell his friend how he and Hester had planned to
be married early in the fall and were to go to housekeeping in a
five-roomed flat that might have been a palace from the light in Will’s
eyes. Hester was talking with Lizzie who had edged near the porch with
her pretty boy hiding shyly behind her, but the smile that Hester threw
in Will’s direction now and then showed she well knew what was his
subject of conversation.
All the little colony had been gathered in the orchard in front of the
rose arch, to watch the wedding ceremony, and many of them still
lingered there to see the departure of the beloved bride and groom.
Aunt Frances levelled her lorgnette at them with all the airs of her
departed sister, and exclaimed “Aren’t they picturesque? It’s quite
like the old country to have so many servants and retainers gathered
about adoring, now isn’t it!” And a young and eager debutante who was a
distant cousin of Starr’s. replied:
“I think it’s perfectly peachy, Aunt Frances.”
Suddenly in one of Will’s eager perorations about the flat and its
outlook Michael noticed the shy, eager look of Sam’s face as he waited
hungrily for notice.
“Excuse me, Will, I must see Sam a minute,” said Michael hurrying over
to where the man stood.
“Say, Mikky,” said Sam shyly, grasping Michael’s hand convulsively, “me
an’ Lizzie sort o’ made it up as how we’d get tied, an’ we thought we’d
do it now whiles everybody’s at it, an’ things is all fixed Lizzie she
wanted me to ask you ef you ’sposed _she’d_ mind, ef we’uns stood thur
on the verandy whur yous did, arter you was gone?” Sam looked at him
anxiously as though he had asked the half of Michael’s kingdom and
scarcely expected to get it, but Michael’s face was filled with glory
as he clasped the small hard hand of his comrade and gripped it with
his mighty hearty grip.
“Mind! She’d be delighted, Sam! Go ahead. I’m sorry we didn’t know it
before. We’d have liked to give you a present, but I’ll send you the
deed of the little white cottage at the head of the lane, the one that
looks toward the river and the sunset, you know. Will you two like to
live there?”
Sam’s eyes grew large with happiness, and a mist came over them as he
held tight to the great hand that enclosed his own, and choked and
tried to answer.
Amid a shower of roses and cheers Michael and Starr rode into the sweet
June afternoon, alone together at last. And when they had gone beyond
the little town, and were on a stretch of quiet woodsy road, Michael
stopped the car and took his bride into his arms.
“Dear,” he said as he tenderly kissed her, “I’ve just been realizing
what might have happened if Buck hadn’t seen you in time and taken the
shot himself that I might have you, my life, my dear, precious wife!”
Then Starr looked up with her eyes all dewy with tears and said,
“Michael, we must try to save a lot of others for his sake.” And
Michael smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, with deep, sweet
understanding.
Then, when they were riding along again Michael told her of what Sam
had asked, and how another wedding was to follow theirs.
“Oh, Michael!” said Starr, all eagerness at once, “Why didn’t you tell
me sooner! I would have liked to stay and see them married. Couldn’t we
turn around now and get there in time if you put on high speed?”
“We’ll try,” said Michael reversing the car; and in an instant more it
was shooting back to Old Orchard, arriving on the scene just as Sam and
Lizzie were shyly taking their place, hand in hand, under the roses, in
as near imitation of Michael and Starr as their unaccustomedness could
compass.
It was Jim who discovered the car coming up the orchard lane.
“For de lub o’ Mike!” he exclaimed aloud. “Ef here don’t come Mikky
hisse’f, and _her_! Hold up dar, Mister preacher. Don’t tie de knot
till dey gits here!”
And a cheer arose loud and long and echoed through the trees and over
the river to the sea. Three cheers for the love of Michael!
Sam and Lizzie bloomed forth with smiles, and the ceremony went forward
with, alacrity now that the real audience was present.
An hour later, having done their part to make the wedding festivities
as joyous as their own had been, Michael and Starr started out again
into the waning day, a light on their faces and joy in their hearts.
Starr, her heart very full, laid her hand upon Michael’s and said with
shining eyes:
“Michael, do you know, I found a name for you. Listen: ‘And at that
time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the
children of thy people: and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written in the book.’ Michael, you are
_my prince_!”
And Michael as he stooped and kissed her, murmured, “My Starr.”