CHAPTER XVIII.
MARGERY'S LOVE DREAM.
An hour after Mr. Wright had concluded his purchase for his employer hereturned to the establishment, accompanied by one of the personsauthorized to collect the money. When he presented the order at thecashier's window, Mr. Conway, the old cashier, drew back aghast as helooked at the man.
"Is--is it possible you have indorsed this?" he asked, turning to themanager.
Mr. Wright bowed, but his face betrayed deep agitation.
"I cannot pay it without consulting Mr. Armstrong," he exclaimed, in atroubled voice. "Wait a moment."
Could it be possible that Lester Armstrong had authorized the payment ofan amount like that, knowing that the firm was a little crippled forcash just at that season of the year? Surely the man must be mad, hetold himself; and that for which the money was to be paid fairlystaggered him. He had to look a second time to satisfy himself that hehad not made a horrible mistake when he read: "For one steam yacht andtwo pairs of horses, $125,000; terms cash."
He set his lips hard together, saying to himself that this was thebeginning of the end.
At that same moment quite a thrilling scene was taking place in theprivate office, which would have unnerved the old cashier completely hadhe known of it. It so happened, in exploring the nooks of the office,Kendale had by chance touched another bell, the bell communicating withthe suit department, which was in charge of Mr. Conway's prettydaughter, Miss Margery. When that bell tapped it meant that the younglady was to make all possible haste to the private office, to which shehad been summoned, and this the young girl proceeded to do, not withoutsome little trepidation, however. Fair Margery Conway had a secretromance in her life, a romance which no one in the wide world would everhave guessed.
For many a long day she had been secretly in love with Mr. LesterArmstrong, her father's assistant, of whom; she had heard him speak somuch and praise so highly.
She admired him immensely. Many a time she made excuses to speak withher father a moment in their private office. No one in the wide worldguessed that grave, handsome Lester Armstrong was the attraction thatbrought her there.
She had many a casual chat with him, and somehow the hope grew in herheart that he was not altogether indifferent to her.
Once, when she had started home in the pouring rain, he had gone out ofhis way to see her safely to her destination under the shelter of hisumbrella.
He had only been courteous, but she had built up many a hope from thislittle incident alone.
She had not seen very much of Lester Armstrong since thatnever-to-be-forgotten day, but her father had told her that he usuallyasked each morning: "How is your daughter, Miss Margery?" and once herfather had said:
"Of all the young men whom I have met, I have the greatest regard forLester Armstrong. Such young men are the salt of the earth. There is afuture before him. When he earns a dollar he puts by more than half ofit against a rainy day. He is not extravagant. Few young men making hissalary would dress so very plainly and make his clothes do him as long.He has no bad habits; he neither smokes nor drinks, and that issomething you can say of very few young men nowadays."
Margery looked up into her father's face with shining eyes. She made noanswer, but a vivid flush crept up into her cheeks, and the little handsthat were busy with the teacups trembled a little. She knew quite wellthat in the depth of his heart her father was hoping that she andLester Armstrong would take a fancy to each other, and that in timethat fancy might ripen into love, and instead of being onlyacquaintances, she and the assistant cashier might be nearer and dearerto each other.
Not long after this Margery Conway received a letter, a poem, rather,typewritten. There was no name signed to it, but she felt sure that itcame from some one in the establishment of Marsh & Co. More than onesalesman looked at pretty Margery Conway with admiring eyes, but shenever thought of any of these. The truth was, it was sent by one of thebookkeepers, but the girl jumped at once to the conclusion that it wasfrom Lester Armstrong. She imagined that from the tender, sentimentalwords. She read the beautiful poem over and over again, until she knewevery word by heart. The lines even floated dreamily through her brainin her sleep. She would awaken with them on her lips. Ah, surely, thepoem was from Lester Armstrong, she fully believed. It read as follows:
"What have I done that one face holds me so, And follows me in fancy through the day? Why do I seek your love? I only know That fate is resolute, and points the way To where you stand, bathed in amber light. Since first you looked on me I've seen no night-- What have I done?
"What can be done? As yet no touch, no kiss; Only a gaze across your eyes' blue lake. Better it were, sweetheart, to dream like this, Than afterward to shudder and awake. Love is so very bitter, and his ways Tortured with thorns--with wild weeds overgrown. Must I endure, unloved, these loveless days?-- What can be done?
"This I say, 'Marry where your heart goes first, Dear heart, and then you will be blessed. Ah, how can others choose for you What is for your best? If you're told to wed for gold, Dear girl, or for rank or show, Stand by love, and boldly say, "No, my heart cries no!"'"
Like most young girls, pretty Margery was sentimental. She slept withthe folded paper beneath her pillow at night, and all day long it wascarefully tucked away over her beating heart.
It was quite a week after receiving this ere she saw Lester Armstrongagain; then her face turned burning red. Lester saw it, but how was heto dream that he was the cause of her emotion?
"Sweet Margery Conway is not strong," he thought, pityingly. "Howfrightened her father would be were he to see that sudden rush of bloodto the head."
He wondered whether or not he should run to her and proffer hisassistance. He had once seen a young woman who was thus affected fallto the floor in a fit, and it had been many a long day ere theunfortunate woman could return to her work again. He devoutly hoped thismight not be the case with poor, pretty Margery.
She saw him start and look at her searchingly. She could not havestopped and exchanged a word with him if her life had depended upon it.She hurried past him with desperate haste, praying that he might nothear the beating of her heart.
He noticed that she did not stop to speak, but he quite believed that itwas because she was very busy. The next moment he had forgotten allabout it, and about the girl, too, for that matter.
He scarcely remembered pretty Margery until he happened to see heragain. The girl was fairly stunned by the intelligence that the greatmillionaire owner of the establishment had made Lester Armstrong hisheir.
At first her joy was so great that she could not speak. Then a suddenfright swept over her heart. He was rich now, and she was poor. Would itmake any difference with him. She tried to put the chilling thought fromher, for it made her heart turn cold as ice. Her gentle eyes did notclose in sleep all the long night through. Her pillow was wet withtears. The one prayer on her lips was: "I pray to Heaven this may makeno change in him; that he will care for me as much as when he sent methe poem."
She had not seen Lester Armstrong since he had taken his new position asproprietor of the great establishment, and now, when his bell rang forher, no wonder the girl's heart leaped into her mouth, and involuntarilyshe looked into the long pier glass eagerly. Ah, it was a fair facereflected there. There were few fairer, with its delicate coloringframed in nut-brown curls, gathered back so carelessly from the whitebrow, and there was a light in the brown eyes beautiful to behold. Shehad been wondering only the moment before if the hero of her daydreamshad forgotten her, and lo! the summons of his bell had seemed to come inanswer to the thought.
With trembling, hopeful anticipation, Margery wended her way to heremployer's office, taking the nearer route, not through the main office,where her father was, but by a more direct narrow passage, which wasseldom used.
All unmindful of his daughter's presence in the main office, the oldcashier had be
nt his steps thither for instructions regarding the billwhich had just been presented, but he had scarcely reached out his handto knock, ere he heard a blood-curdling, piercing scream, in a woman'svoice, from within, and recognized, in horror too great for words, thevoice of his own daughter, his Margery!
Mischievous Maid Faynie Page 18
