The Girls at Mount Morris, Amanda Minnie Douglas [motivational novels for students .TXT] 📗

in temper but he has grown so gentle and considerate. But it is something that rouses him to white heat. We have always been such dear friends since that time of the great sorrow, and it is not about the boys, I know. Oh, Zay, what is the matter? You look ill--you must have a fever, your eyes show it."

"The doctor called it a feverish cold. He is coming again this afternoon." She was half listening to the tumult in the library, and she shook as if in an ague.

"Oh, there they go again. Why--they are going out," and she went to the hall to call to her husband but the door was flung to as if in a passion. Then someone entered and ran lightly upstairs.

"Mother, Zay, what is the row about? Father looks as if he--but he never _does_ drink and they are going to Mrs. Barrington's."

Zay buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

"Oh, mother, what is it? Has Vin met with some accident? And we were so happy yesterday! Do you remember the old story of the gods being jealous of the happiness of mortals? There was nothing to wish for."

"I do not know what it is, but it has excited your father desperately and I am afraid Zay is going to be ill."

"My dear Zay--I should not have kept you out so late last night. We called at the Norton's and had a little dance. Don't you need the doctor--"

"He was in. He is coming this afternoon. Oh, my head aches--"

"And you look fit to drop, mother. Let me call the nurse."

Freida gently impelled Mrs. Crawford to her own room and laid her on the lounge, making passes over her brow and chafing her cold hands.

"Now, lie still and get tranquil, and I will see to the young lady."

"I would like to put you in a hot bath with plenty of salt, and then give you a good rub. Why, you have gone all to pieces, as you Americans say."

Zaidee made no demur. Willard went and read aloud to his mother. The girl was bathed and rubbed and rolled in a blanket. She felt real drowsy, but the thought haunted her--what if Louie Howe had been taken ill with scarlet fever and they had sent word to Mrs. Barrington? Then Louie must have confessed and the three would be implicated. No wonder her father was angry!

She tossed around for awhile but, in spite, of her mental excitement she fell asleep. The luncheon hour passed; no one wanted to eat. Then Major Crawford let himself in with his latchkey. He was very pale now.

"Oh, is there bad news?" asked Willard.

"It depends on--how your mother takes it. Such a strange story--I can hardly credit it myself. Do not let us be interrupted unless I have to summon someone," and he passed on his way upstairs.


CHAPTER XI

STANDING UP TO THE MARK

Lilian Boyd bathed her mother's face and hands as usual and prepared her breakfast. Her eyes were brighter, her voice stronger, but the girl noticed that her face seemed a little swollen and the lines about her mouth had lost their flexibility.

"You are surely better. You have more appetite," yet the tone was not hopeful.

"Oh, my dear, it is nearer the end, and it is best. You will do better without me, and what if you should find someone--a father to be proud of you? Such things have happened, and I may have kept you out of something that was your right. Oh, will God forgive me?"

Lilian caught the thin hand and pressed it to her lips.

"Mother, you must not worry about this. Suppose my own mother was a widow like you going to a new home to earn her living. Why, I might have been put in some Children's Asylum. And I have had many comforts and a love willing to make sacrifices. I have been a dreamy girl building air castles for the future, but I would have worked hard to make them real. I see now how much is needed and I am not afraid----"

"Oh, if I could think you had lost nothing through my selfish love----"

"But it was your friend who sent us here. And you are not sorry we came?"

"Oh, my child, it was truly God's providence. Mrs. Barrington has been so good. She will help you to attain your best aims. Since we have been here I have realized the difference between us that I only felt vaguely before. You belong to these people. You have their ways and it is not all education, either. This is why I feel your people could not have been in the common walks of life."

She paused, exhausted.

"Now, you must not talk any more but try to sleep. Shall I read to you?"

"No, not now. Oh, Lilian, you will not tire of me? You will not leave me? It cannot be long----"

"No, no, and this will be my home. Let that comfort you."

Lilian took up some embroidery. Mrs. Barrington had merely looked in to inquire. How still the house seemed, and she was in a highly nervous mood. What if Major Crawford should not believe the story? Well, Lilian Boyd should never know how near she had come to being a heroine of romance, and she should achieve some of her desires.

Mrs. Boyd drowsed. Yes, it was really the providence of God that she should be removed. She would always have the things she most desired, which she, Mrs. Boyd could not have given her in the pretty home Lilian had been planning. She had been happy with her lover, then her husband. But, Lilian would shrink from the kiss of the grimy man fresh from his hard work, and after his brief ablutions, sitting down to supper in his shirt sleeves and then lighting his pipe and pushing his baby up and down the front walk, jesting and laughing with the neighbors. There were blocks of them, most of them happy women, too, except when the babies came too fast or died out of their arms. And a few games of cards in the evening, a play now and then merry enough to keep one laughing. No, it would never have done for Lilian.

And she would feel out of place in the life to which the girl aspired. She would never get quite at ease with these refined friends whose talk was of books and music and the part great men and women were playing in the world.

How many times does one have a foreshadowing of the real things that affect life! One may be heavy hearted for days groping about fearsomely and suddenly the cloud lifts without any misfortune. Then swift in the happiest hour comes the stroke that crushes one. Lilian looked straight ahead in her life. She would serve her time here and repay Mrs. Barrington for her generous kindness.

In a lovely old town like Mount Morris, the lines of caste get unconsciously drawn. Where people have lived hundreds of years and can trace back to some titled ancestor perhaps, where they have never known the hard grind of poverty, but have worked on the higher lines. There had been several noted clergymen, two bishops, scholars, senators and even an ambassador abroad. There was no especial pride in this, it was simply what was to be expected of sons growing up in this refined, upright and moral atmosphere. But they sometimes passed rather proudly by those of the next lower round who bent their energies to money making.

Lilian had soon come to understand that and her personal pride kept her aloof from any chance of snubs. But she would want a wider world presently that was not bounded by a grandfather or a fortune that had descended through generations.

There were moments when Mrs. Boyd's confession seemed a feverish dream. She did not dare build anything on it, because she had indulged in some romantic dreams and longings, because there had been wounded vanity almost to a sense of shame, she held herself to a strict account. No matter what she might gain here, she would always be considered Mrs. Boyd's daughter. She had not expected to be received with the young ladies of the school, and had taken no notice of the little rudenesses that might have had a better excuse if she had been trying to crowd in. So all the refinements of birth and education did not always conduce to the higher generosity of heart.

Miss Arran came gently in the room with an anxious glance toward the bed.

"Mrs. Barrington wishes to see you in the library, Miss Boyd. I will stay here with your mother."

Lilian laid down her work as she rose and said: "Mother is asleep now."

Then she went slowly down the wide stairway, her eyes lingering on some of the panels that had been painted in by a true artist.

"My dear child," the lady said in a voice that seemed full of emotion, "you must have felt from the beginning that I had taken an unusual interest in you. You suggested some person that I could not quite place, but came to know afterward that it was one of my early scholars, a most charming girl. She married happily and had two sons, but they both longed for a daughter. Providence listened to their prayers and sent them a double portion, two lovely girls. My friend's husband was a soldier stationed on the frontier and in an Indian raid was quite severely wounded. It was not deemed best to risk moving him and she resolved to go out to him. One of the babies, the first born was larger and stronger than the other, and she determined to take this one with a most excellent nurse she had. You heard the story Mrs. Boyd told. My friend was in the same frightful accident--the nurse was killed outright, but the baby by some miracle had not so much as a scratch. The only other baby was crushed beyond recognition."

Lilian sprang up, then the room seemed to swim round. She caught at the chair back to steady herself and gave a great gasp.

"Oh, and my mother, Mrs. Boyd, took the child, but they all thought the nurse the real mother. And, oh--she could not bear to give up the baby. Oh, you must forgive her."

"In the confusion I can see that it was very easily done. Dr. Kendricks went out at once. He found the mother gravely injured and the word was that the baby was dead. It was beyond recognition. Mrs. Boyd, who had only been stunned, had gone on her way. You have heard her side of the story, knowing the other side when Miss Arran detailed it, we sent for Dr. Kendricks and pieced it all together. You have been so occupied with your supposed mother, and I must say you have been a devoted daughter, that you have hardly noted our excitement and interest. The confession established the facts beyond a doubt in our minds, but we were not sure how the father would take it. And the place has altered immeasurably; there have been so many accidents since, that that has passed into oblivion. But no one can dispute the proof. Your mother was a noticeably handsome girl; but there is a curious resemblance, and it grows upon one."

"And I am scarcely handsome at all," the girl said, slowly.