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

well. Men have many bothers, my dear."

"It was not about Vincent?"

"Oh, dear, no. There was a telegram from him. He reached West Point all right, and all is going well. Now, I shall give you a composing draught and order you to sleep all the afternoon."

"And the fever?" tremulously.

"That's simply cold and nervousness. You will be about well tomorrow," and he laughed.

"Mrs. Barrington was--oh, I suppose the girls who stayed had a dull time."

"I didn't hear any complaints. I guess they are all right. Don't you worry about them or anybody."

If she could hear that Louie Howe was well; maybe Phil would write tomorrow. Oh, she couldn't be seriously ill or the doctor wouldn't be so indifferent about it. If she only could go to sleep and forget about the Clairvoyant's awful den!


CHAPTER XII

OH, WILL I BE WELCOME?

There was a late luncheon and then the Major returned to his wife's sitting room where Aunt Kate was keeping her company with some exquisite needlework for her darling, Zay, who had insisted upon being left alone.

"I have a curious story to read to you that concerns us all. I am glad to have you here, Kate, as a sort of ballast. It was what excited me so this morning and I was very unreasonable. The doctor threatened to put me in a straight jacket."

Aunt Kate laughed. Mrs. Crawford studied her husband intently.

"Oh, go on with your work. I shall feel more composed." He turned his chair a little, ostensibly for the light, but so that his wife might not watch his face.

He began with Mrs. Boyd's list of misfortunes after her few years of happiness and her resolve to go out to her brother's. At times he stumbled over the poor penmanship and halted.

"Why, it must have been the train I was on," interrupted Mrs. Crawford. "I remember there was a woman with a delicate looking child. I believe ours were the only two babies. Oh, if I had not taken my little darling! But she was so well and strong, such a fine happy baby, and nurse Jane was so good."

Mrs. Boyd had hurried briefly over the terrible collision.

"Everett," interrupted his sister with an indignant emphasis, "why recall that awful happening. It can do us no good now."

Mrs. Crawford leaned her head on her hand and balanced her elbow on the broad arm of the chair.

The Major's voice shook slightly. Mrs. Boyd had been quite graphic about her calling for the baby, her care of it from midnight to the next morning and settling her mind to what the woman had said; her resolve to keep the child when she heard the other mother had been killed. She sprang up suddenly.

"Oh, it was nurse Jane who was killed. And she took my baby, my darling. Oh, who was she? Can we ever find her?"

Then she fainted and her husband caught her in his arms.

"Oh, you have killed her!" cried Miss Crawford. "How could you recount that awful time of suffering, and that the woman should steal the baby! Oh, that was just it, there's no use mincing matters!"

It was some minutes before Mrs. Crawford regained consciousness, then she gazed imploringly in her husband's face.

"Oh, tell me--where is my darling? Is she really alive. Can we find her?"

"She has been found. She is well and in good hands. Oh, my dear wife, I felt vengeful at first, but I have come to pity the poor thing. Marguerite pleaded for her. And we must be thankful that she had the courage to confess the matter."

"Then--you have seen her?"

The voice was shaken with emotion.

"She is at Mrs. Barrington's."

"Oh, can't we go to her? My dear baby, my darling Marguerite! Why, it is almost as if she had been sent from heaven."

"My dear--" her husband caught her in his arms or she would have fallen in her eagerness. "Oh, it will all come right, but you must be patient and get stronger. There are reasons why she cannot come, or you cannot go, and you must hear the rest of the story."

"Everett," began his sister, "how do you _know_ but that this is a scheme to extort money. How can you be sure it is your child? There are so many swindlers or blackmailers in the world."

He was arranging his wife on the couch, thankful she had borne the tidings so well. Then he seated himself beside her, bending over to kiss the pallid lips.

"There can scarcely be any chance for fraud. No one would profit by it, and now, shall I go on with the story?"

They both acquiesced.

There was something so pathetic in the fostermother's love for the child and her fear of its being cast on the world as no one seemed to know anything about the supposed mother. Then her return to her early home; her struggles against misfortune, poverty and ill health, and after a little, her dismay at finding the child so different from what she had been herself, so ambitious, so longing for refinement and showing such a distaste for common ways. The failure of her own health, the impossibility of keeping the girl at school any longer when Mrs. Barrington's proffer had seemed a perfect godsend. But it was too late to recover the health that had been so shattered by poverty and hard work.

"Well, if it _is_ true she was a courageous woman," declared Miss Crawford. "One can't forgive her for taking the child without making a single inquiry."

"But everything was in such confusion, and you will remember that Marguerite lay unconscious for a long while, just hovering between life and death. And at that time, in the western countries there were not so many safeguards. When Dr. Kendricks reached the place, Jane and the baby had been temporarily buried. Yes, it was easy for the thing to happen when Mrs. Boyd wanted the baby so much. I can hardly forgive her, but we must admit that the confession showed an earnest desire to repair the wrong."

"Where is she?"

"At Mrs. Barrington's. Dr. Kendricks thinks she can last but a few days longer and the child is resolved to stay until the end. I tried to shake her determination but found it useless."

"I admire her for it," said Mrs. Crawford.

"I should doubt her fervent love if it could be transferred so easily from poverty to wealth. Yes, I am proud of my dear daughter whom I have not seen in fifteen years. But the whole story is marvellous."

"And yet there is nothing impossible about it. We can see how simply it all happened."

"What is she like?"

"Mrs. Barrington was quite puzzled about a resemblance to some one, and she thinks it you. She has not the radiant beauty of your girlhood, neither has she the dazzling charm of Zay. Oh, I think she is the most like Willard; rather too grand for a girl of sixteen, with a great deal of dignity. Oh, you should hear Mrs. Barrington talk about her. And how do you suppose she and the doctor kept the secret yesterday! They knew it would disturb our happy Christmas. And _she_ was nursing the sick woman."

"Oh, did she know?"

"Not that she was our daughter until this morning. I felt bewildered over it all," and Major Crawford gave a deep drawn sigh.

His wife pressed his hand. Her tears were flowing silently.

"Well--it will be very strange to have her here," remarked Miss Crawford. "But I warn you, Zay will always be the dearest to me."

Twilight was falling around them. Mrs. Crawford would never have her own lights early. This was her favorite hour with her husband. Aunt Kate stole softly to Zay's room and found her sleeping tranquilly, the fever mostly gone.

"Oh, I wonder how you will take it," she mused. "You have been the darling of the household so long."

For somehow, she was not in a mood to welcome this newcomer. True, there must be the strongest proof or Major Crawford would not have been convinced or allowed himself to get in such a passion with this Mrs. Boyd. But a girl reared amid the commonest surroundings, enduring the straits of poverty, lack of education, no accomplishments, how could she take her place in the front rank of Mount Morris society? And the boys--how would they accept this rusticity and probably self conceit?

Major Crawford and his wife often fell into tender and mysterious confidences at this hour, that were never shared with others. They were very happy in her recovery though the last two years she had suffered very little. But she did not want to depute the care of her daughter growing into womanhood entirely to Aunt Kate who had many worldly aims and prejudices, and who was very proud of her niece's beauty. And now such a load was lifted from her soul that had never quite forgiven itself for taking her finest baby on the unfortunate journey.

"Oh, I must see her," she cried in a whisper.

"But she will not come here until all is over with that poor woman. I do not see how she can care so much for her."

"My dear, it shows a true and strong regard. Remember it is the only mother she has ever known. To turn at once would show a volatile disposition. I have been afraid of that in Zaidee, who is easily taken with new friends, though I will admit that she does not discard the old ones. But I wish sometimes other people were not so easily attracted by her."

"But she is charming," said the admiring father.

"I hope they will love each other. We must expect a little jealousy at first. And you think she is not--that her narrow life has not dwarfed her."

"Oh, you should listen to Mrs. Barrington's enthusiasm. You see, it was not an easy place to fill, after all. She was in some of the classes, but she held herself aloof. Then she taught a little among the younger day scholars, and kept a certain supervision in the evening study hour. Her mother's position was a sort of handicap, she was so very meek and retiring. All women cannot add dignity to an inferior position, and young people are very apt to take them according to the position. Mrs. Barrington was planning some changes for the new term that would be brought about by the passing away of the poor woman. I think she meant, in a way, to adopt her."

"Oh, she must be worthy, to have made such a friend."

And the mother was wondering, but dared not ask what Marguerite had grown into. She was not like Zay, all the coloring was darker. Willard was fine looking for a young man, but would it not be rather masculine for a girl? She had a fancy for the soft attractiveness in a woman.

Then the light came and dinner. Mrs. Crawford went to Zay's room afterward and found her comfortable and better, with no recurrence of fever, and they had a pleasant little chat.

The next morning a letter came from Phillipa, full of merry nonsense about gifts and gayety and lovers. She was very well, with the very underscored, and two engagements for every evening. She had not heard from Louie, "but I should have if her little