The Flower Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “He had been under a terrible strain, of course, had employed a private detective with no results, and was desperate about you, you know.”

  “Oh! And did your mother see him fall?”

  “No, it was growing dusk, but she saw him standing at the door, and then he seemed to disappear. And she watched for a light to appear in the house, but none came, so when I got home a few minutes later she sent me up to see if all was well. I found him lying on the steps with a cut in his head. Mother came up and an old servant of yours named Maggie who had heard the radio call, and we got him into the house. Your Maggie called your doctor. The doctor got a nurse.”

  “And—was Father—?”

  “Yes, he was conscious. He tried to get up. Said he must do something about the ransom, but I persuaded him to put it into the hands of the police and told him I would go and get you.”

  “But how did you know where I was?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then how did you think that you could find me?”

  “God knew where you were.” He said it reverently and added, after an instant, “And my flowers knew!”

  “Oh!” said Diana with awe in her voice. Then after a moment of silence: “But how could you send the flowers in the first place if you didn’t know my address?”

  “I called up the florist on the telephone and told him you were away and I hadn’t your present address but would like to send you some flowers occasionally, incognito, if he could get them through the mail to you, special delivery. Of course, the post office isn’t allowed to give out addresses, but they themselves will put on the address. He said he could get the flowers to you. He had a brother-in-law in the post office who would fix it up and rush the flowers through. Of course, your receipted special delivery cards came back to the florist in due time, but he couldn’t send them to me because he didn’t know who I was, though he always told me when I telephoned again that they had come. But that didn’t do me any good tonight, of course, so I just prayed all the way to the florist’s, and when I walked in I said, ‘Have my flowers gone yet?’

  “He knew my voice, and he looked up apologetically and said, ‘No, I’m sorry, but I’m just getting ready to drive into the city and take them. I was off to a funeral, and my son forgot to take them to the mail. But here they are, already done up and addressed.’ He shoved the box over to me, and there was the address written plainly; the way was made plain for me. So I told him that was all right and that I was calling on you tonight and would take them in this time myself. That was easy, you see.”

  “Do you always get answered like that when you pray?” asked Diana in wonder.

  “The answers are not always alike,” said the young man thoughtfully. “I always know there’ll be an answer if I pray in the right way, with faith, with a yielded will, with a desire to be led.”

  Diana was still for a long moment after that. Then she said earnestly, “You’ve taken a great deal of trouble for me.” And then after a pause, with her lips down among the flowers, quite irrelevantly, “I should have brought the box for these. They will get all crushed. But I was so excited I didn’t think of it.”

  “That’s all right,” said Gordon, a jubilant note in his voice, “they have accomplished their purpose, haven’t they?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Why, they served to introduce us. I was half afraid I might have trouble getting you to go with me after I got there. I brought these along hoping you would understand and not be afraid of me.”

  “Oh!” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose they did. I suppose I would have been afraid of you after what happened with that awful creature. You know, I couldn’t see you very well, down in the shadow of those curtains. And I’d only seen you once or twice in the dark.”

  He gave her a quick, startled look.

  “But do you know?” she went on gravely. “It’s just come to me who that man was. It must have been Bill Sharpe. His mother did plain sewing. He was a bad boy and ran away several times. That’s all that I know about him. But I am sure his mother is dead. She died two years ago. I remember the charitable organization that gathered money to bury her. I never heard what became of the son. But now I am sure that was him!” She drew a deep breath of horror like a shudder and closed her eyes.

  “Oh! If it hadn’t been for you I might have been killed!” she went on. “How can I ever thank you for what you have done for me!”

  “Don’t try, please!” He smiled.

  They were getting near to home now, and Diana, glancing out, shrank back into the car again. Presently she asked in a small, scared voice.

  “Was my father’s wife—there?”

  “Oh!” he said. “Why, no, I don’t think she was. I didn’t see her anywhere. At least—she hadn’t come when I left. And—I don’t think anybody remembered her! We should have sent word to her, shouldn’t we? But, of course, we didn’t know where to send it, and your father said nothing about her. He was only concerned about you.”

  “Oh!” said Diana gratefully. It soothed her soul to know her father cared for her.

  “Would you know where she is?” asked MacCarroll.

  “No!” said Diana quickly, a little sharply. “I went away because—that is, I thought it would be best— She is— We don’t—!”

  “I understand,” said the young man, deep sympathy in his voice. “It must have been very hard for you.”

  Diana tried to answer, but she choked over the words, and all she succeeded in saying was, “It was.”

  “But perhaps—I was wrong—” she added a moment afterward. “I didn’t think my father—would feel it so! I should have written him, anyway!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry over that now,” he said gently.

  They were turning in at the big gateway, and Diana sat very still as they swept up the drive among the trees. They were passing the spot where Diana had found her flowers, over there between the pine trees.

  “I wish—” she said softly, hesitantly, her eyes dropped to the flowers in her lap, “that you would tell me why you did it! Why you put—those flowers—there—in the first place!”

  It was Gordon’s turn to be silent now, and they were just coming around the last curve to the house as he answered gravely, tenderly, “Because I love you!”

  He stopped the car then and went around to open the door for Diana, and as he took her hand to help her out he said earnestly, “May I tell you about it sometime?”

  “Oh—yes—!” The answer was almost a whisper, but then suddenly they were aware that the front door of the mansion had swung open and a silent, dark figure was standing there looking at them.

  Gordon lifted her suitcase out and took her in. There was only a dim light in the hallway, and the door closed almost at once and silently.

  “Better get that car away safe somewhere, brother,” advised the policeman. “We don’t want any means for our man to make a getaway in case he turns up.”

  “Nothing yet?” asked Gordon.

  “Not yet, though it’s still early. We’ve got our men pretty well planted where they won’t be discovered, I think.”

  “Well, I’ve a notion perhaps he’s been hindered,” said Gordon, “though, of course, there may be two of them, or even more. I’ll run my car back and lock it, and then I’ll tell you about it.”

  But just then the nurse called down from the dimness of the upper hall. “Is that Mr. MacCarroll? Mr. Disston wants to see him right away!”

  “That’s all right,” said the officer, “I’ll guard your car till you come. He’s been asking all the evening if you were back yet.”

  Diana stood helplessly in her own home looking around her in the dimness. It seemed to her that years had intervened since she was here. The dim light, the presence of the quiet officers, the strange voice of the nurse, the possibility of Helen’s presence, all made her feel as if she must turn and flee. Then Gordon MacCarroll smiled down upon her and took her hand.

  “C
ome,” he said, “shall we go up?”

  It was Maggie who met them on the stair landing and took the sheaf of carnations from her.

  “I’ll put them in water,” she said, like a caress, and Diana smiled and yielded them up, knowing they would be safe.

  Then Gordon led Diana into her father’s room and up to the bedside.

  “I’ve brought her, Mr. Disston,” he said, as if he had just been in the next room for her.

  “You’ve brought her?” The sick man gripped the young hand in his, a great light coming into his face. “Is this really—my daughter—?” He peered through the shadows of the darkened room. “Turn up the light, Nurse. Is this you, Diana, or am I dreaming?”

  Diana stooped over and kissed his forehead. “Yes, Father dear! I’m really here!”

  “And—you won’t go away—again?” he asked anxiously.

  “Not as long as you want me here, Father!”

  “I shall always want you here,” he said wistfully. “But—you won’t vanish while I am asleep! You won’t let anybody murder you?”

  “No,” laughed Diana tenderly, kneeling beside him with her arm around his shoulder, her hand touching his cheek in the old familiar way.

  “Ah!” he said slowly, feasting his eyes upon her face for a moment. “Now I can go to sleep! I’ve needed sleep for so long, but I couldn’t sleep. Now I can!”

  Gordon had slipped away. Diana could hear the car with the sound muffled, coasting slowly down the drive, and she knelt there beside her father’s bed, his hand gripping hers, his love around her, reconciliation—home—love—! It was sweet! Her own eyelids dropped. She was asleep with her cheek on her father’s pillow.

  The nurse touched her on her shoulder lightly.

  “You could go to your own room now,” she said. “He is really asleep at last. This will do him a great deal of good. I’ll call you if he wakens, but I don’t think he will.”

  Maggie had prepared one of the guest rooms for her. Her flowers were there in a large crystal vase, filling the room with fragrance. Maggie had laid out her robe and turned down the covers.

  Gordon MacCarroll came to the head of the stairs and whispered that he was downstairs with the policemen and she need not feel afraid. She was to go to sleep, and he gave her a smile that shot through her heart like sweet fire.

  She fell asleep almost at once with the light of that smile in her heart and the memory of those low-spoken words, “Because I love you!”

  Sometime in the night there was a disturbance out below the spring house, and several shots were fired. There were muffled sounds of stealthy feet, the clang of a police car off in the distance, and one more human rat stayed in his depredations! But the father and daughter slept on and heard nothing of it.

  Chapter 24

  It was Gordon MacCarroll who met the reporters from the press the next morning and answered their questions in a quiet, steady voice. He said that Mr. Disston had had a slight fall the day before and was feeling a little under the weather this morning, so was not able to come down and see them, but he would be grateful for as little publicity as possible. Yes, it was true he had announced the fact over the radio that his daughter was missing. In these days of dreadful happenings perhaps he had been overanxious when he did not hear from her for a few days and was not sure where she had gone. But it was all right now. His daughter was at home and safe. She had merely started out to visit some relatives and friends and did not realize that her father would be anxious. Yes, it was true that some beings of the underworld had taken advantage of the radio announcement to send a note to Mr. Disston demanding ransom money, but the police had been prompt in rounding them up and putting them where they could not menace others.

  It was all most courteous and quiet, and somehow the reporters found themselves bowed away with a rather prosaic story instead of the thrilling tale they had expected to extract.

  One reporter, it is true, asked a few questions about the new Mrs. Disston. Wasn’t there some trouble between her and Mr. Disston’s daughter? He told them calmly that Mrs. Disston was away for a few days with friends. No, Mr. Disston’s illness was not such as would warrant her coming back immediately, especially as the daughter was here now. Mrs. Disston would doubtless return very soon.

  It was a quiet, peaceful Sunday, with Maggie making a nice dinner in the kitchen and preparing a tempting tray for the invalid; with the nurse coming and going silently; with Diana sitting near her father’s side, her flowers on the chest at the foot of his bed where he could see them; and with the consciousness that Gordon MacCarroll was downstairs with an officer of the law, just to make sure there were no more criminals waiting around.

  It was a time when Diana could rest at last and not even think, though there were pleasant things to consider, she realized later, when she was rested.

  Monday Gordon had to go to his business, but he returned twice during the day to see if all was well and came home early at night to get the latest news, which his mother had gathered from Maggie.

  Maggie, in all her Scotch righteousness, had met the reporters all day and stood for her family in great shape. A reporter would have had to cross her dead body before he could ever get by into the house, and curious neighbors went away baffled beyond belief.

  There was just the quiet and peace that was needed for the invalid, and Diana basked in it and marveled that she was here after her days of sorrow and hard work.

  The doctor came and went quietly, studied his patient, and seemed pleased with his progress, yet warned them not to let him have the slightest bit of excitement or extra exertion.

  But Stephen Disston seemed content just to lie still and watch his daughter going about the room, bringing her vase of carnations for him to see, and sitting where he could see her with a book or a bit of sewing or just sitting with her hands resting in her lap. But there was a sadness in the smile upon his face that the doctor hoped would disappear as the result of the shock passed.

  They would not let him talk, nor let Diana talk much to him. The doctor had warned her about speaking of their separation or the kidnapping incident, so there was nothing to do but wait upon him and smile, sit quietly and love him.

  It was Tuesday afternoon that they sat thus, keeping quiet company with one another while the nurse took her afternoon walk.

  There had been no news from Helen, not even a telephone message, though she must have seen something in the papers if she was not otherwise too occupied. But Helen was not much given to reading even newspapers. They had not been thinking of her. Perhaps for the time she was entirely forgotten, as if she had no connection with their scheme of things.

  It was then, just when she was least expected, that she came.

  Of course, it was because she had a key that she was able to enter the house and evade the watchful Maggie. Even then she got no farther than the foot of the stairs without a challenge.

  Maggie, bearing a big spoon from which she had just wiped yellow batter with a capable forefinger, and from which a large drop of yellow batter was about to fall, swung open the door to the butler’s pantry and stood like a glowering nemesis in her way.

  “An’ where were you?” she demanded. “It’s high time you put in an appearance! But you’re not to go up the stair till the doctor gives you permission! The master’s had a fall an’ a bad turn with his heart, an’ he’s not to be excited. You’d best ask the nurse if you can go up!”

  Helen stood there for an instant looking at the masterful Maggie then put out a bejeweled hand and gave her a push backward, a push right in her ample chest that sent her entirely off her balance. Then with a laugh she ran lightly up the stairs.

  She appeared in the doorway of her husband’s room and stood there an instant taking in the situation. Diana was sitting quietly with her back to the door, a book in her lap, and a smile on her face. Stephen Disston was dozing upon his pillow. They looked complete enough without her. There was a mirror across from Diana that showed the sweet look upon her
face, that look that Helen always had hated.

  She saw the sheaf of flowers near the bed, and she glimpsed through the window the nurse returning from her walk.

  She stood poised an instant longer, studying her husband’s face with her own hard, beautiful eyes, and then she laughed, that bright, heartless laugh.

  Diana started, lifted her eyes swiftly to the mirror, and met the amused contempt in the eyes of her father’s wife! One instant their glances held, and then Helen whirled around and went lightly down the hall, her laugh trailing delicately behind her. Down the stairs she went and put her head in at the kitchen door.

  “I’m going on a cruise,” she announced blithely. “You can tell them if they inquire. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. They’re getting along gloriously without me, and I never was much good in a sickroom. I hate it! Just tell them I’m on the yacht Lotus Blossom. Mr. Disston will understand.”

  She was gone before Maggie could recover her breath to reply, and Maggie dashed after her, trying to walk lightly for the master’s sake yet hurrying with all her sturdy might.

  But when she finally arrived outside with the door closed behind her, Helen was far down the walk, breezing along like a bit of thistledown, and when Maggie flung herself down the path after her to give her a piece of her mind and let her know how it would look to the world if she went away with the master sick, Helen only turned and flung back that childish laugh and skipped on.

  When Maggie, all puffed and speechless, arrived at the gate, Helen was climbing into the bus and, turning, gave a mocking smile and a wave of her hand as she rode away.

  Maggie, unable to believe her eyes, stood staring after the bus, an eloquent look on her loyal red countenance. A few seconds later she burst in upon Mrs. MacCarroll, all tears and anger and out of breath.

  “Never mind, Maggie,” said Mrs. MacCarroll soothingly. “You know the Lord can take care of her. Just leave it to Him. He’ll teach her in His own way. You can’t!”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Maggie, snuffing back the tears, “an’ I’m an old fool to grieve, but it’s a sad thing for the likes of a young hussy like that to carry on lightly when her good man is lying sick.”