A Little Girl in Old Salem, Amanda Minnie Douglas [the snowy day read aloud .TXT] 📗

little country girl," said Uncle Giles, and he kissed her on the forehead.


CHAPTER XV

LOVERS AND LOVERS

"Take me home with you, Cousin Chilian," she pleaded, when he came in the next day.

"But I thought"--he studied her in surprise.

"I want to go home," she interrupted, and her under lip had a quiver in it that would have disarmed almost any one, persuaded as well.

"Why, yes. Didn't you enjoy the party?" He felt suddenly at loss, he was not used to translating moods with all his knowledge.

"Oh, it was delightful! And some such pretty girls. There were new dances. And Mrs. Stevens _is_ charming. Anthony came over a little while."

In spite of inducements held out, she would go. Cousin Giles was almost cross about it.

"I'm so glad to get back," she said to Rachel. "One feels so safe here."

"Was there any danger?" laughed the elder.

Cynthia's face was scarlet. It wasn't danger exactly, but she felt better under Cousin Chilian's wing. And she was her bright gay self all the evening.

But how to get her story told? For if Mr. Saltonstall came and asked for her company, as they termed it then, and not being warned, he should consent----

They sat by the study fire. It had turned out cold and cloudy, with indications of snow. He had a lamp near him on the small table, and read and thought, as his glance wandered dreamily over the leaping flashing blue and yellow flames. If it stormed for one or two days, she could not have come home.

She rose presently and came and stood by him, laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. She was a young lady now, and it was hardly proper to draw her down on his knee.

"Cousin Chilian;" hesitatingly.

"Well, dear?" in an inquiring tone.

"There is something I ought to tell you, and I want to ask you--to--to do--oh, I hardly know how to say it. Mr. Saltonstall came down; he and Mrs. Stevens are old friends----"

Ah, he knew now. This young man had dared to invade the virginal sweetness of her soul, to trouble the quiet stream of girlhood. He was roused, strangely angry, for all his placid temperament.

"I couldn't help it--just before he went away--and I couldn't have dreamed of such a thing----"

Then she hid her head down on his shoulder and cried.

"Dear--my dear little girl--oh, yes, it would have to happen sometime. And--he loves you."

"Oh, that isn't the worst;" illogically, between her sobs. "He is coming to ask you if he may--and I don't want him to come that way. I just want it as it was before. Polly Upham can't think or talk of anything but her intended, and it gets tiresome. He doesn't seem so very wonderful to me. And wouldn't it weary you to hear me praising some one all the time?"

"I think it would," he answered honestly, yet with some confusion of mind.

"So I don't want it;" with more courage in her voice. "I want good times with them all. And I don't see how you can come to love any one all in a moment."

Was he hearing aright? Didn't she really want the young man for a lover? He was unreasonably, fatuously glad, and the pulses, that were chilled a moment ago, seemed to race hot through his body.

"It was not quite marriage?" a little huskily.

"He wanted to ask if he might have the right to come, and he said he loved me, and, oh, I am afraid----"

She was trembling. He could feel it where she leaned against him. He took sudden courage.

"And you do not want him to come in that way? It would most likely lead to an engagement. And then I should have to listen to his praises continually. Yes, it would be rather hard on me;" and he laughed with a humorous sound.

It heartened her a good deal. She was smiling now herself, but there were tears on her cheek.

"And you won't mind telling him; that is not _very_ much, that----"

"I think you are too young to decide such a grave matter, Cynthia," he began seriously. "And you ought to have a glad, sweet youth. There is no reason why you should rush into marriage. You have a pleasant home with those that love you----"

"And I don't want to go away. I feel as if I would like to live here always. You are so good and indulgent, and Cousin Eunice is so nice, now that she doesn't seem afraid of any one. Were we all afraid of Cousin Elizabeth? And we have such nice talks. She tells me about the old times and what queer thoughts people had, and how hard they were. And about girls whose lovers went away to sea and never came back, and how they watched and waited, and sometimes we cry over them. And the house is so cheerful, and I can have all the flowers I want, and friends coming in, and, oh, I shall never want to go away, because I shall never love any one as well as you."

That was very sweet, but it was a girl's innocence, and her face did not change color in the admission.

"Well, I will explain the matter to Mr. Saltonstall. I am glad you told me, otherwise I should hardly have known your wishes on the subject. And now we will go on having good times together, and count out lovers."

"Yes, yes." She gave his hand a squeeze and was her own happy self, not feeling half as sorry for the man who would come to be denied as he did.

It snowed furiously the next morning, and sullenly the day after. Then it was cold, and she said half a dozen times a day she was so glad she came home.

She did not see Mr. Saltonstall when he called, and she really did miss him at two little companies. Then she wondered if she oughtn't give one, she had gone to so many.

"Why, yes," Cousin Chilian answered. She might have turned the house upside down so long as she was going to stay in it.

Then she wondered if she ought to invite _him_. Mrs. Lynde and she were very good friends, and she should ask Avis, of course. They spoke--they were not ill friends.

Chilian considered. "Yes, I think I would," he made answer.

They had a merry time and danced on the beautiful rugs, and had a fine supper. And Mr. Saltonstall was glad to be friends. She _was_ young and presently she might think of lovers. He would try and keep his chance good.

_Anthony came now_ and then and spent a Sunday with them. He loved to hear Cousin Chilian read Greek verses, but the pretty love odes seemed to mean Cynthia, and he used to watch her. Then Ben Upham was a visitor as well, and used to play checkers with her, as that was considered quite a good exercise for one's brains.

Polly would be married in the spring, Alice Turner in June. The Turners were always besieging her for a two or three days' visit, and the Turner young men hovered round her. She never seemed to do anything, she never demanded attention, but when she glanced up at them, or smiled, they followed her as the children did the Pied Piper. She might have led them into dangerous places, but she was very simple of heart. Yet the danger was alluring to them.

Polly came to her for a good deal of counsel. When there were two patterns of sleeves, which should she take?

"Why, I'd have the India silk made with this and the English gingham with that--you see it will iron so much easier. Miss Grayson does up the puffs on a shirring cord, then you can let them out in the washing."

"That's a fine idea. You do have such splendid ideas, Cynthy."

"They are mostly Rachel Winn's," laughed the young girl.

They had a capable woman in the kitchen now. Cynthia should have been mastering the high art of housekeeping, people thought, instead of running about so much and driving round in the pony carriage with Miss Winn, or a girl companion. Of course, there was plenty of money, but one never quite knew what would happen.

John Loring was building his house as people who could did in those days. They would not be able to finish it all inside, and there was a nook left for an addition when they needed it. Polly was to have some of grandmother's furniture, and John's mother would provide a little. Corner cupboards were quite a substitute in those days for china closets, and window-seats answered for chairs. But there was bedding and napery, and no one thought of levying on friends. Relatives looked over their stock and bestowed a few articles. Cynthia thought of the stores in the old house and wished she might donate them. She did pick out some laces from her store, and two pretty scarfs, one of which Polly declared would be just the thing to trim her wedding hat, which was of fine Leghorn. So she would only have to buy the feather.

They haunted the stores and occasionally picked up a real bargain. Even at that period shoppers did not throw their money broadcast.

"Cynthia Leverett is the sweetest girl I know," Polly said daily, and Bentley was of the same opinion.

They were to stand at the wedding.

"And I want you to wear that beautiful frock that you had when Laura Manning was married. I shall only have two bridesmaids, you and Betty, but I want you to look your sweetest."

And surely she did. They had a very nice wedding party and the next day Polly went to her own house and had various small tea-drinkings, and she arranged them for Saturday so Bentley could come up. They were wonderfully good friends, but Cynthia felt as if she had outgrown him. In her estimation he was just a big friendly boy that one could talk to familiarly. Anthony was more backward in the laughter and small-talk.

Then there was the college degree. There was no such great fuss made over commencement then, no grand regattas, no inter-collegiate athletics, for it was a rather serious thing to begin a young man's life and look forward to marriage.

He went straight to Mr. Chilian. It was the proper thing to be fortified with the elders' consent. Of course, he would not marry in some time yet, but if he could be her "company" and speak presently--they had been such friends.

Chilian studied the honest young fellow, whose face was in a glow of hope. So young to dream of love and plan for the future!

"You are both too young;" and his voice had a bit of sharpness in it. "Cynthia is not thinking of such things."

"But one _can_ think of them. They begin somehow and go into your very life. I believe I've loved her a long while."

"I think neither of you really know what love is. No, I cannot consent to it. I want her to go on having a good free time without any anxiety. I have some right to her, being her guardian."

"But--I will wait--I didn't mean to ask her immediately."

"We are going on a journey presently. I cannot have her disturbed with this. No, your attention