“There must have been some delay on the road. But they’ll be here at any moment. I’m so thankful you brought the mail, Dr. Armstrong!”
“Don’t mention it!” said Armstrong with a wink at his friend, who smiled and said nothing.
“Dear me,” cried Mrs. Briggs, “and their rooms won’t be ready — and Eliza’s out. Daisy, you run away and dress this minute — they’ll surely be here to dinner.”
Dr. Armstrong gathered up his rod and basket. “Is this the Infant Prodigy that’s coming with your friend, Mrs. Briggs?” he asked.
She eyed him a little uncertainly. “Yes, Dr. Armstrong — but you won’t mind her, I’m sure. They say she’s really quite attractive.”
“Not any of that kind for me! I prefer unprofessional ladies!” said he, bowing gallantly.
“I shall be glad to meet her, Mrs. Briggs,” said Dr. Newcome, quietly. “She has made a remarkable contribution to science already.”
“That is very kind of you, Dr. Newcome, really.”
“Not at all! Come on, Armstrong. We’d better clear out and get ready for dinner,” and they took themselves off accordingly.
“Just think, Edward! I hadn’t expected them for another fortnight. This is going to be so awkward — having them all here at once!”
“No, indeed, why should it be? The rooms are vacant — and your house is always in good order, my dear. I am sure all these young doctors will have a nice time together.”
A sound of wheels was heard crunching up the last slope of their own drive.
“They’ve come!”
“Here they are!” cried both, simultaneously, and rushed for the door.
8. Meetings
The lean mountain horses stood breathing hard after the last long pull. Their driver was a stringy, discouraging-looking man, who owned the nearest starveling farm, and did teaming in summer to make a living. He untied the straps and cords which had held the baggage in place in spite of Miss Yale’s unconcealed misgivings, and carried the one trunk upstairs, while the passengers dismounted.
Much to the surprise of Mrs. Briggs she was greeted by a cheerful “How do you do, Cousin Laura?” and found Gerald Battlesmith one of the party. She met him with a confused blend of the cordiality on tap for Miss Yale, her old friendliness for her cousin, and a strong sense of the limitations of her bedrooms. Gerald laughed reassuringly:
“Don’t you worry, Cousin Laura. I’m not coming in. Mr. Haines here is going to board me for a while.”
“If you can stand bachin’, or near it,” grinned Mr. Haines, returning to his seat. His “near it” spoke volumes to those who knew him. He was a long-limbed, loose-jointed, hulking fellow, dominated unmercifully by an old and invalid mother who could do little for him herself, and refused to let any other woman into the house for fear Hank would marry her.
“I can stand anything that’ll keep the rain off and prevent starvation,” announced Gerald, cheerfully. “This air is enough to live on, almost!”
He drew in great breaths of it with heartfelt satisfaction while Miss Yale explained that she had overtaken him walking up from Shoreville.
“He went faster than we did, I do believe, and looked so superior that I couldn’t stand it, so we made him ride.”
“Many thanks, I’m sure — good afternoon. You’ll see enough of me later,” he said, and departed with Mr. Haines.
The others straggled into the hall in friendly confusion, making belated introductions.
“Well, Laura, here we are. I’m afraid we’re a little late. And this is Margaret — Mrs. Briggs and Mr. Briggs — Dr. Yale.” Miss Yale’s expression was calmly triumphant, as she introduced her new daughter to her old friends. Her keen eyes were on the alert nonetheless, watching for the faintest symptom of recognition on the part of either. None appeared.
Margaret looked as calm, as modest, as simply at ease, as in the classroom, sickroom, ballroom, or anywhere else. Whatever fears she may have entertained before, she certainly showed none now.
The benign clergyman was much impressed with her manner; and his less benign wife, if not impressed — it was a little difficult to impress Mrs. Leicester-Briggs — was at least approving. She greeted the young woman cordially, for her, and Miss Yale with real affection.
The belated Eliza now appeared, running out to take the lighter luggage, and Mr. Briggs affably insisted on helping her.
“Is that all?” he asked, looking about for further labors.
“That’s all,” Miss Yale assured him. “Margaret travels with one trunk; I travel with these!” And she handed one of her two large suitcases to Eliza with evident reluctance, insisting on carrying the other herself.
“Well, well!” said Mr. Briggs, ambling amiably about. “Do sit down. Have a chair, Miss Yale — have a chair, Miss Margaret Yale! So this is the young lady we’ve been reading such wonderful things about!”
“Nothing very wonderful, I’m sure,” the girl replied. Her face was quiet, but to Miss Yale’s eyes, at least, she had the air of one waiting, listening, and not wishing to show it.
The sound of little feet was heard on the gallery above; a small, dark head bobbed beside the railing, and Dolly came scampering down the stairs, taking the last four in a flying leap into Miss Yale’s arms.
“Oh, Aunt Mary! Aunt Mary! I’m so glad you’ve come!”
Her adoptive mother held her close — her real mother waited, the exquisite control of her fine face a marvel to see. Miss Yale loosened the child’s arms and brought her forward.
“Here’s Sister Margaret,” she said.
Then Margaret could take her in her arms; could hold her close — close; could kiss her almost as she longed to — not quite.
But the child wriggled out from her embrace with a little “Ow! You hurt!”
Margaret pulled herself together. “Forgive me, dear; I wouldn’t hurt you for the world—” There was a quiver in her voice.
“Now, Margaret!” Miss Yale broke in. “We must go and wash before dinner!”
“Yes, yes!” cried Mrs. Briggs. “You must be tired out. We’ll go upstairs at once.” She led the way with Miss Yale while her husband succeeded in capturing the other suitcase and bore it in the rear.
Dolly was for starting after them at once, but Margaret dropped to the floor by her side and caught her to her heart again with a smothered “Oh, my darling!”
The child submitted peacefully enough; she even kissed her in return, a nice, dutiful little kiss, but still pushed softly away.
“You hug me too tight, sister.” Margaret relaxed her grasp, but held the little hands, and kissed them, over and over, the child standing looking gravely down at her.
“I haven’t seen you, precious, for almost a year!” her mother said. “Are you well, darling? Are you happy? Do you like your friends here? Are they good to you? As if anyone could help it!”
A luminous idea struck the child. “Oh, Sister Margaret, what have you brought me?”
The mother looked at her with tender, brimming eyes, but a quizzical little smile flickered across her face for a moment. In all the tension of such a moment she could still feel the touch of absurdity in this blind game.
“Don’t you love me, darling, without my bringing you anything?”
“Oh, yes — of course I do. But you always do bring me something.”
Margaret opened her small hand-satchel, and took out a little package. “Here is one thing,” she said. “It’s not very big — but I hope you’ll like it.”
The child nestled close to her, sitting on the floor at her side, opening her little box with dainty curiosity. Margaret watched her, surreptitiously kissing the soft hair with passionate affection.
“Bless me!” said her host, from the gallery above. “What a picture of sisterly devotion!” Mrs. Briggs appeared on the stairs:
“Won’t you come up, Miss — Dr. Yale?”
Margaret sighed softly, but rose to her feet with the swift grace of a deer. “Certainly, Mrs.
Briggs — I’ll come at once. You come, too, Dolly darling, and see what else there is!”
They went up hand in hand, Dolly hugging the little box.
Mrs. Briggs bustled down presently and bustled up again, bearing hot water. Eliza was heard setting the table with more noise than usual, which caused another descent of her mistress, followed by comparative quiet.
In some ten minutes Miss Yale came down, erect and fresh, in garments as uncompromising in cut as ever, though made of silk, and with more than one white corner peeping here and there from the pockets. She stood on the landing a moment, facing the wide, pleasant hall, with the air of one well pleased.
“It’ll be all right,” she remarked, in cheerful though enigmatic soliloquy. “I thought so!” She walked to the fireplace and stood with her hands behind her.
Mrs. Briggs emerged again from the dining room and came to her with genuine affection. “I am so glad to see you, Mary! It’s ages since you’ve been home!”
“Why, it is some years, isn’t it?” her friend agreed. “I knock around so I forget my bearings.”
“It’s five, at least, since you were up here. I did see you in Paris, of course, that summer. What a gadabout you are!”
“Yes. I’m a regular globe-trotter. The world is my country — and my family!”
“Your family! I believe you have a child in every port — like sailors’ wives.”
“Oh, not as bad as that, Laura! Really they are all off my hands now but little Dolly. Isn’t she a dear? It’s so good of you to take her up here for me! I assure you I appreciate it!”
“Nonsense, Mary! The child is no trouble. You certainly picked out a nice one that time. Where did you say you found her?”
“In Switzerland. Such a pretty baby as she was? You see we old maids love children just as much as if we had them ourselves — maybe more!”
“Do you know anything about the parents?”
“Oh, yes. I always make careful inquiries, you know. There was very decent stock on both sides. But circumstances make it advisable—”
“I see — I see! And this young wonder of yours! Really, Mary, she is most impressive!”
“Yes — isn’t she? She made a tremendous hit in London, I can tell you! You care more for things like that than I do, but I confess I was pleased to see her bowl them over. Lady Raynor couldn’t say enough about her. And that old lady has good judgment — and unlimited experience.”
“Did she have many proposals?”
Miss Yale laughed cheerfully. “If she did, she didn’t tell me about it. Margaret is a close-mouthed young lady — discreet beyond praise. But I can answer for two young Honorables and an elderly earl that if they did not propose it was because she would not let them.”
“Let’s see—” Mrs. Briggs counted reminiscently. “It’s ten years or more that you’ve had her, at least. French, isn’t she?”
“It’s all of that. I found her in France — such a nice child — about sixteen. Poor, of course, and an orphan — absolutely without friends. I thought she had ability; talked with her; offered to educate her on the spot. She was very stubborn about it — wouldn’t take my money. I told her she could pay it back, and if you’ll believe me, Laura, she has!”
“What! Not all of it!”
“Every sou. She’s twenty-six or -seven now, you see, and has been doing special work for a year or so — operations — she has a wonderful gift for surgery and gets big prices. She saved the life of a little High-and-Mightiness over there — and that placed her all of a sudden.”
“How very gratifying it must be!” said Mrs. Briggs; “quite the most successful of all your experiments, isn’t she?” yet so unenthusiastically that Miss Yale laughed outright.
“Yes — she’ll be the stay of my declining years.”
“What do you mean, Mary?” queried her friend anxiously. “You haven’t lost your money, have you?”
“Not at all, Laura. There’s plenty yet — little Daisy is quite safe! Why, where is Daisy?”
“She’s dressing,” said her mother. “She’ll be down in a minute. She has been expecting you so eagerly!”
“I’m glad of that. Daisy is almost my first love. And you haven’t succeeded in marrying her yet! Let me see — she must be nearly twenty-eight.”
“You needn’t dwell on that, Mary. She is as much of a child as ever. And besides — though I do not wish to be premature — I think someone is much interested in her!”
“Indeed! And who is the captive of your bow and spear this time?”
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Mary Yale! As if I wanted to lose my only child!” She lowered her voice confidently: “It’s Dr. Armstrong.”
Miss Yale tossed her head like an angry horse. “What! Not that man who was at Notchville with us?”
“And why not that man?” Mrs. Briggs seemed quite aggrieved at her friend’s tone. “He’s of an old family — the New Hampshire Armstrongs — very nice people, and well connected. He stands high in his profession; he’s called one of the best surgeons in Boston — if not the best. And he has money of his own besides.”
Miss Yale was thinking quickly as to what she might say and what she must not say. She remembered that her judgment of the man, on his own record, and her interest in Daisy, quite justified strong feeling, and committed her to nothing further.
“And you’d let that man marry Daisy!”
“Sh!” said Mrs. Briggs. “Not so loud. I don’t know certainly yet, but I think he will.”
“Why, Laura Leicester! You know he’s a man of no moral standards!”
“I know nothing of the sort! He stands extremely well, socially. Mr. Briggs thinks very highly of him.”
“But surely you must know — both of you must know — that he’s the kind of man that — ruins young girls! Why, Laura,” she went on, with freshening memory, “I made the same objection that summer — and it is still sound.”
“Tut! Tut! Mary — I’m ashamed of you!”
“I’m ashamed of him!”
“No girl need be ruined who has any moral character,” said Mrs. Briggs firmly.
“How about his moral character?”
“It’s not like you to be so censorious, Mary. We know, of course, that Dr. Armstrong was a little wild in his youth — but then, most men are.”
“Youth? Look here, Laura — I’ve heard things about that man within two or three years.”
“Nothing — scandalous — I hope.”
“Scandalous!” Miss Yale laughed bitterly. “Nothing that hinders his ‘standing well socially,’ I see. Merely the destruction of a girl or two, more or less. I suppose you think that’s nothing. Why, Laura — the man’s a criminal! You can’t mean to think of him — seriously?”
“I will not listen to you, Mary. And I do hope you’ll be polite to him.”
Again her friend laughed, or rather sniffed. “I’m not likely to meet him, thank goodness!”
“Not meet him!” Mrs. Briggs stared at her for a moment. “Why, he’s here — he and Dr. Newcome.”
Miss Yale started violently; her firm, tanned face paled. “Here!” she cried. “Not here — in this house?”
“How absurd you are, Mary. Yes, of course, right here in this house. They are up here for the fishing. Dr. Newcome I brought on Dolly’s account. I haven’t told you, but Dolly was quite ill; I was afraid it was a fever or something dangerous — so I just made Dr. Newcome come up. He set her all right again in no time. You needn’t look so worried — she’s all right now.”
Miss Yale did look worried. What is more, she was worried — she was frantic. But not on Dolly’s account; Dolly was beloved, but her mind was now quite oblivious of the child; she was thinking of Margaret.
She was never good at excuses and was much agitated by the excitement of this sudden blow, following upon what, after all, had been some strain — this return among old friends with her transformed protegee.
But something must be done at once, and she
started for the stairs with the banal excuse: “I must go up again — I’ve forgotten my handkerchief.”
Mrs. Briggs was highly amused. “Nonsense! You’ve got two in sight — and dear knows how many more. Don’t be a goose, Mary Yale. You’ve surely met men before that you didn’t approve of.”
“I have!” said Miss Yale with decision. “Many of them. It’s not that, Laura — I must run upstairs right away.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said her friend, seizing her dress. “You sit right down here and let me tell you about Dolly. She was really quite ill, you know — and I was so worried! But Dr. Newcome is splendid with children.”
“In a minute, Laura — I’ll be right down!” And Miss Yale freed herself with a firm hand and made for the stairway.
She was met, however, by Miss Daisy, flying down in joyful haste, the pretty Parisian gown fluttering about her slim ankles, and her eager arms outstretched.
“Oh, dear Aunt Mary! I am so glad to see you!”
“Yes, yes — glad to see you, child — delighted to see you! I was just running upstairs—”
But the girl drowned her protests with affectionate kisses. “In deed you shan’t go upstairs. I was hurrying so — and I’m all unhooked. You must see this lovely gown you sent me — isn’t it dear!” And she whirled slowly about, slim arms outstretched between her and the stairs. “If you really love me, Aunt Mary, you’ll hook me up,” she said, stopping short, her chin on her shoulder and roguish eyes looking back.
“You get your mother to hook you up, child — I’ll be back in a minute, I tell you.” And the good lady, growing more and more nervous as she heard resounding steps along the gallery, took Daisy by the shoulders and turned her firmly aside, to make room for a dash upward.
But the resounding steps descended, proving to be those of good Mr. Briggs, who came ponderously downward, and stood directly in her path, holding the newel post in either hand.
“Not so fast, my dear lady, not so fast! Let me get it for you. I’m not so spry on my feet as you are, but my heart is in the right place. What is it that you want? I’ll be very quick.”
Miss Yale felt a strong desire to lay violent hands on this amiable bulk and hurl it from her path, but when benevolence, a sprightly, teasing spirit and some two hundred pounds combine as an obstruction, removal is difficult.
Complete Works of Charlotte Perkins Gilman Page 60
