A Young Girl's Wooing

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER VIII

  RIVAL GIRLS

  Instead of Graydon there came a letter saying that he would bedetained abroad another week. The heat was oppressive, and the familyphysician said that little Jack should be taken to the country atonce. Therefore they packed in haste, and started for a hotel in theCatskills at which rooms had been engaged. Graydon was to join themthere as soon after his return as possible.

  Madge looked wistfully at the mountains, as with shadowy grandeurthey loomed in the distance. There is ever a solemnity about mountainscenery, and she felt it as she passed under the lofty brows of woodedheights. To her spirit it was grateful and appropriate, for, while shewould lead among them apparently the existence of a young girl bentonly on enjoyment, she believed she would leave them, either a happywoman, or else facing the tragedy of a thwarted life. Their deepestshadows might, even when her laugh was gayest, typify the despondencyshe would hide from all.

  It was Saturday, and Mr. Muir accompanied his family. He and his wifelooked worn and weary, for at this time circumstances were bringingan excess of care to both. Mrs. Muir was a devoted mother, and littleJack had taxed her patience and strength to the utmost. A defensivewarfare is ever the severest test of manhood, and Mr. Muir had foundthe past week a trying one. He had been lured into an enterprise thatat the time had seemed certain of success, even to his conservativemind, but unforeseen elements had entered into the problem, and it nowrequired all his nerve, all his resources, to meet the strain. NeitherMadge nor his wife knew anything of this. Indeed, it was not his habitto speak of his affairs to any one, unless the exigencies of the caserequired explanation. In this emergency he was obliged to maintainamong his associates an air of absolute confidence. Now that he wasout of the arena he gave evidence of the strain.

  Madge saw this, and resolved that her large reserve of vitality shouldbe drawn upon. The tired mother should be relieved and the perplexedand wearied man beguiled into forgetfulness of the sources of anxiety.Jack would have indulged in a perpetual howl during the journey hadnot his attention been diverted by Madge's unexpected expedients,which often suspended an outcry with comical abruptness, while herremarks and questions made it impossible for Mr. Muir to toil onmentally in Wall Street. By reason of the heat the majority of thepassengers dozed or fretted. She heroically kept up the spirits of herlittle band, oblivious of the admiring eyes that often turned towardher flushed, animated face.

  There are few stronger tests than unflagging good-humor during adisagreeable journey with cross children. At last the ordeal came toan end, and in the late afternoon shadows they alighted at the widepiazza of the Under-Cliff House, and were shown to airy rooms, whichproved that the guests were not kept in pigeon-holes for the solebenefit of the proprietor. Our heroine employed the best magic theworld has known--thoughtful helpfulness. Mr. Muir was banished. "Youwould be as useful as a whale," she said to him, when he offered toaid his wife in unpacking and getting settled. "Go down to the piazzaand smoke in peace. I shall be worth a dozen of you as soon as I takeoff my travelling-dress."

  She verified her words, and before they were aware of it Mrs. Muir,who was prone to fall into hopeless confusion at such times, and thenurse were acting under her direction. The elder little boy and girlwere coaxed, restrained, managed, and soon sent down to their father,redressed and serene. Jack was lulled to sleep in Madge's room. Thetrunks instead of disgorging chaos, were compelled to part with theircontents in an orderly way. In little more than an hour the two roomsallotted to Mr. and Mrs. Muir, and the nurse with the children, tookon a cosey, inhabitable aspect, and by supper-time the ladies, inevening costume and with unruffled brows, joined Mr. Muir.

  "The idea of my ever permitting Madge to go back to Santa Barbara!"exclaimed Mrs. Muir. "This day alone has proved that I can never geton without her. Just go and look at your room, sir. One would think wehad been settled here a week. You ought to pay Madge's bills, and giveher a handsome surplus."

  "If time is money," said Madge, "Henry will have to pay me well. Hemust stay and help me explore these mountains in every direction.But now let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we shall go tochurch."

  "I've half a mind to take you down to Wall Street with me next week,"said Mr. Muir. "Perhaps you can straighten out things there."

  "No, sir. I'm a woman's-rights girl, and one of her rights is to getthings out of the way as soon as possible, so that people can have agood time. Thank heaven our affairs can be shut up in drawers and hungup in closets, and there we can leave them--in this case for a goodsupper first, and a long quiet rest on this piazza afterward. Don'tyou think you could find a drawer somewhere in which to tuck away yourWall Street matters, Henry? You won't need them till some time nextweek, for you must certainly spend two or three days with us."

  Mr. Muir laughed. "I've heard of managing women before, but you beatthem all. You have won, to-day, the right to manage for a while. I'lljoin you soon; then supper; and, as you suggest, I'll put the WallStreet matters somewhere and lock them up."

  Thus their mountain sojourn began auspiciously. The supper wasexcellent, and they were in a mood to enjoy it; they found the piazzadeliciously cool after the long hot day; and the faint initial pipingsof autumn insects only emphasized the peace and quiet of the evening.The mountains brooded around them like great shadows, their outlinesgemmed with stars, and the very genius of repose seemed to settle downupon the weary man and woman who were in the thick of their life'sbattle.

  They were among the earliest arrivals at the house, and had a widespace to themselves. Indeed, they could have been scarcely moresecluded at their own summer residence. For those seeking rest, anearly flight to summer resorts brings a rich reward.

  While her relatives dozed or merely revived sufficiently from time totime to make some desultory remark, Madge thought deeply. At first shehad been disappointed at the postponement of Graydon's return, butshe grew reconciled as she dwelt upon it. While hope was deferred,she enjoyed a longer lease of anticipation. When he did come she mightsoon learn that all hope was vain. Besides, the delay gave her time tofamiliarize herself with the region and its most beautiful walks anddrives. The mountains, woods, and rocks should all be pressed intoher service. They would not reveal her secret, and they might engenderthoughts and words with which Miss Wildmere would be out of harmony.

  "I've been thinking," Mr. Muir at last remarked.

  "Nonsense! you've been asleep," Madge replied.

  "No; I've thought profoundly."

  "Not even a penny for any thoughts of yours since supper."

  "They would be worth fortunes, life, health, happiness, to half theworld."

  "Then keep still till you have a patent, copyright, or something,"said his wife.

  "No. I rise simply to remark--also to retire--that a little oil keepsmachinery from wearing out and going to pieces. Come now, old lady"(pulling his wife to her feet), "you are the better to-night, as Iam, for the oil that Madge has slipped in here and there. I fear themachinery to-day would have run badly without it."

  The group that gathered at the breakfast-table next morning bore earlytestimony to the tonic of the hills. Jack only was not so well, andMrs. Muir remained with him, while Madge and Mr. Muir wended theirway to a little chapel whose spire was the only summons to worship.A short, genial, middle-aged man met them at the door, with suchhospitable cordiality as to suggest that he was receiving friends athis own home, and conducted them to seats. A venerable clergyman satin the pulpit with a face full of quiet benignity. Every one who cameappeared to receive an almost personal welcome; and Madge and Mr. Muirlooked enviously at the self-appointed usher. It was as evident thathe was not a professional sexton as that the little congregation couldnot afford such a luxury. No care clouded his brow. Evidently hisfuture did not depend on fluctuations in the maelstrom of commerce,nor had he one hope so predominant over all others that his life wasone of masked suspense, as was the case with poor Madge. He was ratherlike the rugged, sun-lighted mountains near, s
olid, stable, simple. Nomatter what happened, he would remain and appear much the same.

  Such was the tenor of Madge's thoughts as she waited for the openingof service. Fanciful and imaginative to a great degree, she found acertain mental enjoyment in observing the impressions made upon her bystrangers.

  The service was brief and simple; the good old clergyman preached thegospel of hope, and his words calmed and strengthened the young girl'smind. She was made to feel that there is something more and betterthan present happiness--that there are remedies for earthly ills.

  When she returned to the hotel she found that Mrs. Muir was worriedabout Jack, who was worse, and that a Dr. Sommers had been sent for.She could not help smiling when, a little later, the hospitable usherof the chapel came briskly in. She eventually learned that the doctorprovoked smiles wherever he went, as a breeze raises ripples on thesurface of a stream. He smiled himself when he met people, and everyone took the contagion. He examined the baby, said the case wouldrequire a little watching until certain teeth came through, andthen that there would be no further trouble. He spoke with the sameconfidence with which he would announce that July was near.

  "You watch the case, then," said Mr. Muir, decisively. "I must be intown. If you can look after the child and save my wife from worry, mymind will be easy as regards this end of the line at least."

  "All right, sir. We'll manage it. Healthy boy. No trouble."

  "Have you lived long among the mountains, doctor?" Madge ventured toask.

  "I should think so. As long as I have lived. Was born and brought upamong 'em."

  "It must be dreary here in the winter," Mrs. Muir remarked.

  "Not a bit of it. It's never dreary."

  "How far among the hills does your practice extend?" Madge pursued.

  "As far as I'll go, and I'm usually going."

  "Perhaps you can give us, then, some advice as to drives and walks."

  "Oh, lots, free gratis. I can tell Mr. Muir of a trout-stream or two,also."

  "Doctor," said Madge, laughing, "I am very ill. I shall need muchadvice, and prescriptions of all the romantic walks and drives in thevicinity."

  "And like most of the advice from doctors, it won't be taken. A strollon the piaza is about all that most ladies are equal to. You look,however, as if you should not fear a steep path or a rough road."

  "You shall see," cried Madge.

  "Yes, I will see," said the doctor, laughing, and bowing himself out."I've seen a great many ladies who could dance miles, but were asafraid of a mountain as of a bear."

  At the dinner-table Mrs. Muir said, laughingly, "In Dr. Sommers, Madgehas found a kindred spirit--another oiler of machinery. If between himand Madge things don't go smoothly, the fates are indeed against us."

  "When life does go smoothly, it is because of just such good, cheerycommon-sense," Mr. Muir remarked, sententiously. "I'm in the financialcentre of this part of the world, and schemes involving millions andthe welfare of States--indeed of whole sections of the country--aredaily brought to my consideration, and I tell you again men are oftenin no condition to act wisely or well because the wear and tear oftheir life is greater after business hours than during them. Businessmaniac as Madge thinks me to be, little Jack is of more consequencethan a transcontinental railway. I must face the music--the discord,rather--of Wall Street to-morrow. There is no use in protesting orcoaxing; I must be there; but it's a great thing to be able to returnwith my nerves soothed, rested, and quieted. Heaven help the men who,after the strain of the day, must go home to be pricked half to deathwith pin-and-needle-like worries, if not worse."

  "Please imagine Madge and myself making a profound courtesy for theimplied compliment," said Mrs. Muir. "But can you not spend part ofthe week with us?"

  "No. Graydon will soon be here, and there is much to be seen to. Hewrites that he has worked very hard to get things in shape so thathe can leave them, and that he wishes to take a vacation. As far aspossible I shall gratify him. He can be with you here, and come totown occasionally as I need him. It's all turning out very well, and Iam better off than many in these troublous times."

  The remainder of his stay passed quietly in absolute rest, and on thefollowing morning he was evidently strengthened for the renewal of thestruggle.

  * * * * *

  "Stella!"

  Miss Wildmere remained absorbed in her novel.

  "Stella!" repeated Mr. Wildmere, impatiently.

  "What is it?" she asked, fretfully. "I'm in an exciting scene. Can'tyou wait awhile?"

  "Oh, throw down your confounded novel! You should be giving your mindto real life and exciting scenes of your own. No, I can't wait anddon't propose to, for I must go out."

  The words were spoken in a small but elegant house, furnished in anultra-fashionable style. Mr. Wildmere was a stout, florid man, wholooked as if he might be burning his candle at both ends. His daughterwas dressed to receive summer evening calls at her own home, for shewas rarely without them. If the door-bell had rung she would havedismissed her exciting scene without hesitation, but it was only herfather who asked her attention.

  "Very well," she said, absently, turning down a leaf.

  Her father observed her listless air and averted face for a momentwith contracted brow, then quietly remarked, "Graydon Muir may returnat any time now."

  Her apathy disappeared at once, and a faint color stole into her face.

  "Haven't you had enough of general attention and flirtation? I knowthat my wishes have little weight; you have refused not a few goodoffers and one on which I had set my heart; but let the past go. Theimmediate future may require careful and decisive action. I speak inview of your own interests, and to such considerations I know youwill not be indifferent. If you were taking a natural and intelligentinterest in my affairs you would have some comprehension of mydifficulties and dangers. The next few months will decide whether Ican keep up or not. In the meantime you have your opportunity. GraydonMuir will share in the fortunes of his brother, who has had thereputation of being very wealthy and eminently conservative. I havelearned, however, that he has invested largely in one enterprise thatnow appears to be very dubious--how largely no one but himself knows.If this affair goes through all right you couldn't do better thandevelop Graydon Muir into an impatient suitor; and you had better keephim well in hand for a time, anyway. He is a good business man and farmore to be depended upon than rich young fellows who have inheritedwealth, with no ability except in spending it. If the Muirs passthrough these times they will become one of the strongest and safesthouses in the country. Remember that the _if_ is to be considered. Mr.Arnault, too, is a member of a strong, wealthy house. I would adviseyou to make your choice between these two men speedily. You are notadapted to a life of poverty, and would not enjoy it. An alliance witheither of these men might also aid in sustaining me."

  Miss Wildmere listened attentively, but made no comment, and herfather evidently did not require any, for he went out immediately.He understood his daughter sufficiently to believe that she neededno further advice. He was right. The exciting crisis in her novelwas forgotten, and her fair face took on an expression that did notenhance its beauty. Calculation on the theme uppermost in her mindproduced a revery in which an artist would not have cared to painther. It was evident that the time had come when she must dispose ofherself, and the question was, how to do it to the best advantage.

  To Graydon she gave her preference. He was remarkably fine looking,and could easily be a leader in society if he so desired--"andcertainly shall be," she thought, "if I take his name." As far as herheart spoke in the matter it declared for him, also. Other men hadwooed and pleaded, but she had ever mentally compared them withGraydon, and they had appeared insignificant. She had felt sure for along time that he would eventually be at her feet, and she had neverdecided to refuse him. Now she was ready to accept but for thisominous "if," which her father had emphasized. She could not think ofmarrying him should he become a poor man.<
br />
  She neither liked nor disliked Mr. Arnault. He was a man of the world,reported wealthy, established in a large but not very conservativebusiness. He had the name of being a little fast and speculative, butshe was accustomed to that style of man. He was an open suitor whowould take no rebuff, and had laughingly told her so. After hisrefusal, instead of going away in despondency or in a half-tragicmood, he had good-naturedly declared his intentions, and spent theremainder of the evening in such lively chat that she had been pleasedand amused by his tactics. Since that time he had made himself useful,was always ready to be an escort with a liberal purse, and neverannoyed her with sentiment. She understood him, and he was aware thatshe did. He took his chances for the future, and was always on handto avail himself of any mood or emergency which he could turn tohis advantage. In various unimportant ways he was of service to Mr.Wildmere, but hoped more from the broker's embarrassments than fromthe girl's heart.

  "I might do worse," muttered the beauty--"I might do worse. If it werenot for Graydon Muir, I'd decide the question at once."

  The door-bell rang, and Graydon was announced. Even her experiencednerves had a glad tingle of excitement, she was so genuinely pleasedto see him. And well she might be, for he was a man to light anywoman's eyes with admiration. If something of his youth had passed,his face had gained a rich compensation in the strong lines ofmanhood, and his manner a courtly dignity from long contact with thebest elements of life. One saw that he knew the world, but had notbeen spoiled by it. That he had not become cynical was proved by hisgreeting of Miss Wildmere. He was capable of hoping that her continuedfreedom, in spite of her remarkable beauty, might be explained on theground of a latent regard for him, which had kept her ready for hissuit after an absence so unexpectedly prolonged. Through a friend hehad, from time to time, been informed about her; and there was no ringon her hand to forbid his ardent glances.

  Never before had she appeared so alluringly attractive. He was athorough American, and had not been fascinated by foreign types ofbeauty. In his fair countrywoman he believed that he saw his ideal.Her beauty was remarkable for a fullness, a perfection of outline,combined with a fairness and delicacy which suggested that she was notmade of ordinary clay. Miss Wildmere prided herself upon giving theimpression that she was remote from all that was common or homely inlife. She cultivated the characteristic of daintiness. In her dress,gloves, jewelry, and complexion she would be immaculate at any cost.Graydon's fastidious taste could never find a flaw in her, as regardedexternals, and she knew the immense advantage of pleasing his eye witha delicacy that even approached fragility in its exquisite fairness,while at the same time her elastic step in the dance or promenadeproved that she had abundance of vitality.

  Nothing could have been more auspicious than his coming to-night--thevery first evening after his arrival. It assured her of the place shestill held in his thoughts; it gave her the chance to renew, in theglad hours of his return, the impression she had made; and she saw inhis admiring eyes how favorable that impression was. She exulted thathe found her so well prepared. Her clinging summer costume revealednot a little of her beauty, and suggested more, while she permittedher eyes to give a welcome more cordial even than her words.

  He talked easily and vivaciously, complimented her openly, yet withsincerity, and rallied her on the wonder of wonders that she was stillMiss Wildmere.

  "Not so great a marvel as that you return a bachelor. Why did you notmarry a German princess or some reduced English countess?"

  "I was not driven to that necessity, since there were American queensat home. I am delighted that you are still in town. What are yourplans for the summer?"

  "We have not fully decided as yet."

  "Then go to the Catskills. Our ladies are there at the Under-CliffHouse, and I am told that it is a charming place."

  "I will speak to mamma of it. She must come to some decision soon.Papa says that he will be too busy to go out of town much."

  "Why, then, the Catskills is just the place--accessible to the city,you know. That is the reason we have chosen it. I propose to takesomething of a vacation, but find that I must go back and forth a gooddeal, and so shall escape the bore of a long journey."

  "You have given two good reasons for our going there. The place cannotbe stupid, since we may see you occasionally, and papa could comeoftener."

  "Persuade Mrs. Wildmere into the plan by all means, and promise meyour first waltz after your arrival;" and there was eagerness in histone.

  "Will you also promise me your first?"

  "Yes, and last also, if you wish."

  "Oh, no! I do not propose to be selfish; Miss Alden will have herclaims."

  "What, Sister Madge? She must have changed greatly if she will danceat all. She is an invalid, you know."

  "I hear she has returned vastly improved in health--indeed, that sheis quite a beauty."

  "I hope so," he said, cordially, "but fear that rumor has exaggerated.My brother said she was better, and added but little more. Have youseen her?"

  "No. I only heard, a short time since, that she had returned."

  Madge had not gone into society, and had she met Miss Wildmere faceto face she would not have been recognized, so greatly was she changedfrom the pallid, troubled girl over whom the beauty had enjoyed herpetty triumph; but the report of Miss Alden's attractions had arousedin Miss Wildmere's mind apprehensions of a possible rival.

  Graydon's manner was completely reassuring. Whatever Miss Alden mighthave become, she evidently had no place in his thoughts beyondthat natural to their relations. No closer ties had been formed bycorrespondence during his long absence.

  Further tete-a-tete was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Arnault.The young men were courteous and even cordial to each other, butbefore half an hour had passed they recognized that they were rivals.Graydon's lips grew firm, and his eyes sparkled with the spirit of onewho had not the faintest idea of yielding to another. Miss Wildmerewas delighted. The game was in her own hands. She could play these twomen off against each other, and take her choice. Mr. Arnault was madeto feel that he was not _de trop_, and, as usual, he was nonchalant,serene, and evidently meant to stay. Therefore Graydon took his leave,and was permitted to carry away the impression that his departure wasregretted.

  "Mr. Arnault," said Miss Wildmere, quietly, "we have decided to spendsome time at the Under-Cliff House in the Catskills. So you perceivethat I shall be deprived of the pleasure of your calls for a while."

  "Not at all. I shall take part of my summering there also. When do yougo?"

  "In a few days--sometime before the fourth. How fortunately it allhappens!" she added, laughing. "When did you decide on the Catskills?"

  "That's immaterial. When did you?"

  "That also is immaterial. Perhaps you would like to ask mamma?"

  "I'd rather ask papa--both, I should say," he replied, with asignificant shrug.

  "Do so by all means. Meanwhile I would suggest that a great manypeople go to the Catskills--thirty thousand, more or less, it issaid."

  "I had another question in mind. Is Graydon Muir going there in orderto follow the crowd?"

  "If he is going I suppose he will follow his inclinations."

  "Or you?"

  "Were that possible, I could not prevent it. Indeed, women rarelyresent such things."

  "No indeed. It is well you do not, for you would become the embodimentof resentment. How large is your train now, Stella?"

  "You can dimmish it by one if you choose," she replied, smilingarchly.

  "I should be little missed, no doubt."

  "I didn't say that."

  "I'm more afraid of Muir than of all the train together."

  "That's natural. The train has little chance collectively."

  "Don't pretend to misunderstand me. There was unmistakable meaning inMuir's eyes."

  "I should hope so. He means to help me have a good time. So do you, Itrust."

  "Certainly. You may judge of the future from the past,"
he added,significantly, as he rose to take his leave.

  "Then the future promises well for me," she said, giving him her handcordially; "for you have been one of the best of friends."

  "And a good deal more. Good-night."

  "Mamma," said Miss Wildmere, stopping at the nursery on her way to herroom, "we must get ready to go to the Catskills at once."

  "Why, Stella! This is the first I've heard of this plan. Your fatherhas said that he doesn't see how we can go out of town at all thissummer."

  "Nonsense! I'll insure that papa agrees."

  "I don't see how I can get ready soon. The baby is fretful, and I'mall worn out between broken rest and worry. Won't you take Effie for alittle while?"

  "Where's the nurse?"

  "She's out. Of course she has to have some time to herself."

  "You just spoil the servants. It's her business to take care of thechild. What else is she paid for? Why can't one of the other maidstake her?"

  "Effie is too nervous to go to strangers to-night."

  "Oh, well, give her to me, then."

  The sensitive little organization knew at once that it was in thehands not only of a comparative stranger, but also of one whose touchrevealed little sympathy, and its protest was so great that the tiredmother took it again, while the beautiful daughter, the cynosure ofall eyes in public, went to her room to finish the "exciting scene" ather leisure.

  But the scene had grown unreal. Its hero was but a shadow, and adistorted one at that. The book fell from her hand; she again sawGraydon Muir coming forward to greet her with an easy grace which noprince in story could surpass, and with an expression in his dark blueeyes which no woman fails to understand. It assured her that neitherin the old world nor in the new had he seen her equal.

  "I wish it could be," she murmured; "I hope it can be; were it not forthat 'if' it should be soon."

  Thus, after her own fashion, another girl had designs upon Graydon.