But Rose was suddenly on her feet.
“Stop!” she cried. “Don’t say such terrible things to me! I did not come over here for any help of any kind. I do not need your money, and I do not want a husband! I have no idea of getting married at present, and if I had, I would prefer to do my own choosing and make my own arrangements. I will not listen to another word like this. My mother would not have wanted me to come if she had known you would think such insulting things about me!”
She had backed away from them in her excitement, and as she reached the great arch that separated the room from the wide hall she came in sharp contact with someone who was just about to enter. Turning suddenly to apologize, she saw staring down at her a tall lanky man in evening garb that didn’t seem to fit him very well. She realized that she had met the evening’s guest in no proper manner.
“I’m sorry!” she said. “I did not hear anyone come in.” She was about to offer further words when Lord Warloch arose and introduced her while she had still that royal light of battle in her usually sweet quiet eyes.
“This is young Lord MacCallummore,” he said, addressing Rose. “And this”—he turned to the stranger—“is our niece, Margaret Galbraith, of whom we have told you.”
Then Rose stood back, aghast. They had been talking to this stranger about her! Was this the son of the man her mother had refused to marry? She gave him a level quiet look, a slight inclination of her head, and stepped back to the low seat she had been occupying before he came, but she felt his speculative eyes upon her with a look that made her want to shudder. It was silly of course, to feel so just because he was the son of the man her mother had not wanted to marry, but she could not seem to help it. She wished with all her heart that she could escape from this dreadful place and go up to her own room and cry her heart out.
Then suddenly there came the summons to dinner. Just a moment before she had been healthily hungry, but now it seemed to her that to swallow a single mouthful of food would be an impossibility, if it had to be eaten in the presence of this stranger. Nevertheless, she rose and followed her aunt.
Chapter 6
In New York, Gordon McCarroll was getting ready to go back to Shandon Heights to spend the weekend with his mother and father. He hadn’t intended going so soon, but that morning there had come a special delivery letter from his mother asking him to come that weekend if he possibly could. She said the daughter of her old friend in California, Mary Repplier, was visiting in the east, and was arriving early Saturday for over Sunday. She wanted to give her a pleasant time and she didn’t see how she was to accomplish that unless Gordon came home to help.
“You know her mother was my very special friend in school, and I want her to have a good time while she is here,” she wrote. “I don’t know the girl at all, but if she’s anything like her mother, she is wonderful. At least, I understand she is very bright. I do hope you can arrange to come, dear, and I do hope it won’t prove to be a bore. She ought to be interesting. She’s traveled a great deal and done a lot of the things you’ve always wanted to do.”
Gordon had frowned when he read the letter. He would so much rather go home just to have a quiet time with his father and mother and not have a fool strange girl wished on him. But of course, since his mother wished it, he would go.
So he packed his bag and started off.
It was almost dinnertime when he arrived, and his first meeting with the girl was at the dinner table.
She was very attractive. He saw that at first glance. She had big black eyes, and black hair piled on the top of her head in carefully arranged carelessness. She had delicately tinted cheeks that looked merely like a rosy flush, and her lips were not too red. Neither were her fingernails deeply tinted, but the nails were highly polished, and everything about her was extremely well groomed. She was quite sure of herself, and her mind fairly scintillated with bright sayings.
Gordon could see that his mother admired her, and his father thought her unusually bright. He wondered what was the matter with himself that he wasn’t especially charmed with her. She seemed to be the right kind of girl in every way. But he just wasn’t interested. Well, he was here to save his mother and see that the girl had a good time, and he would do his best.
He was relieved that she wasn’t the kind of girl who wanted nightclubs and dances. At least she didn’t ask for those things, so as she professed to be exceedingly fond of music, and it happened that there was some unusual music in town just then, he managed to secure tickets and took her to a concert. She proved to be a good listener, her comments were intelligent, and they spent a pleasant evening together, although there was nothing thrilling about it, of course. And when the next morning a telegram called her to an old schoolmate’s home some ten miles away, Gordon drove her to the place and came back, distinctly relieved that she was gone. He looked forward to a pleasant talk with his mother and father.
“You didn’t like Sydney Repplier, did you, Gordon?” his mother asked thoughtfully when they were seated around a little late supper after his return.
“Why, yes!” said Gordon heartily. “She’s a fine girl! Rather pretty, too, don’t you think?”
“I think perhaps you’d call her handsome, wouldn’t you, instead of pretty?” said the mother, still studying her son keenly.
“Yes, that’s it, Mother. Handsome. She has fine eyes, and she’s keen too. She knows a lot about music.”
“Yes. She’s had a fine education. Her mother was a delightful musician. But you didn’t quite like the girl, Gordon, did you? At least you weren’t very enthusiastic about her, were you, Son?”
“Oh, why, Mother, did you want me to be?”
“Well, I don’t know that a mother is ever very anxious for her son to be enthusiastic about a girl, but that is the way of the world of course, and it is a thing that is likely to come, I suppose, sometime. Of course, when it comes for my boy I hope she will be a good girl. Our kind of girl. A Christian girl.”
“Well, I should hope so, Mother. But did you especially admire this girl? Did she fulfill all the requirements? Maybe she was, but to tell the truth, I wasn’t really taking much thought about it except to make her have as good a time as I could. Of course, I haven’t known her long, Mother. I might think her great after I’d seen more of her. But—well, she seemed just a nice girl, that was all!”
The mother drew a relieved sigh, and then with still a troubled glance at her boy, wondered if he was seeing any girls at all in New York.
But the talk drifted to others matters, Gordon telling of his work in the office and how they had promised that the training he was receiving now would prepare him for a departmental head. He would eventually be located in the region of his home town, and that was great news to his parents.
At last he hurried up to his old room to get some sleep before the early train that he had to catch to New York in the morning. As he lay down to sleep it occurred to him that he hadn’t said anything about Rose to his mother, and perhaps it was just as well. Since she had this girl matter on her mind, it might only have given her something more to worry about. Why should he say anything? It was a matter that he had to work out for himself, of course, and there might not be anything to it but a pleasant farewell to a lonely young school friend. He might never see her again, and likely the memory of her would soon be dimmed.
But, he added, with his last waking thought, her memory would never be dimmed by the vision of a girl such as Sydney Repplier!
And day after day as he went about his work, he found himself counting the time and wondering when a letter could come from Rose, thinking that when it came it would likely clear away his illusions and make it possible for him to stop thinking about this girl whom he had known so long and yet whose vision of loveliness had only just come to his soul.
But the next evening his father and mother talked him over together.
“I can’t quite make Gordon out,” said his mother after her husband seemed to have finished the even
ing paper and was ready to be sociable. “I thought he would be interested in Sydney, and he didn’t seem in the least so. He seemed much more interested in our old cat and whether she’d had as much meat as she wanted for dinner. I am just as worried as I can be about him.”
“Why, Mamma, you surely aren’t troubled because he isn’t interested in any special girl just now, are you? He’s got plenty of time, you know. He’s not very old, and he’s just getting started in business. I think it’s much better for him not to have other interests just now.”
“Oh, but that’s it, Daddy. I’m afraid he may get interested in some little good-for-nothing, now that he’s away from home and all the nice girls he knows. He looks lonesome to me, and there’s no telling what he might take up with if he gets lonesome enough. You know New York must be full of little adventuresses, watching out for a good-looking, personable young man.”
“Nonsense, Mamma, don’t you think our son has any sense at all? Did you ever see him, in any stage of his career so far, get into a fix like that? You know Gordon doesn’t let anybody put anything over on him, much less a silly girl.”
“Daddy, human nature is human nature, and some of these little fool adventuresses that are going around loose look like young angels and haven’t any bringing up whatever. It would be so dreadful for him and for us too if he should suddenly get interested in one of those!”
“Well, Agnes, I never thought you were a woman who went around hunting for trouble. I thought you trusted your son with God when he went out away from our home. I thought you thought God was watching over him. I thought you believed in His keeping powers for yourself and all yours! And here you are going around setting up ideas to worry about! Why, you remind me of Sarai in the Bible! You actually do!”
“What do you mean, Malcolm?”
“I mean you’re acting as if you had to play God for Gordon, the way Sarai did when she suggested to Abraham that he’d better marry her bondservant so that God could keep His promise about giving Abraham a son. Look here, Mamma, it’s all right for you to get Gordon home to help you entertain a girl you don’t know what to do with, but when you try to sic him onto her and make him get interested in her, you’ll defeat your own end. Didn’t you see Gordon wasn’t interested? If I were you, I’d quit fretting. God has allowed him to grow up fairly decent so far, and you don’t think He’s going to fall down on the job now, do you? I’ve always admired the way you took everything that came so calmly. I thought that had a great deal to do with your training of our boy. You made him feel that everything was sent by God and we must accept it that way. You made him feel that it was important how he judged himself in every act and every thought. Now, you don’t think he’s going to forget that right off because he’s gone away from home, do you? He’s got principles and beliefs, the kind he’s been trained in, and he’s going to stick to them. He may make mistakes sometimes, but you won’t find him losing his head at the first silly girl he meets. And for that matter, you can’t find any sillier ones than some we’ve had in this very city through the years. Didn’t you always find him judging them just as we had? He’ll size ’em up. You know, Mamma, it isn’t as if Gordon isn’t a Christian himself. You don’t think he wants to make a mess of his life, do you?”
“No. No, I don’t think that, but Malcolm, I couldn’t help feeling all the time he was here that he was sort of reticent and preoccupied. Why, sometimes when Sydney was talking brilliantly, he didn’t even seem to hear her.”
“Yes?” said the father. “Do you know what he said to me? We were standing out by the car waiting for her to come downstairs the morning she left, and Gordon was looking a bit bored. I said, ‘Nice girl?’ and he nodded unenthusiastically.
“‘O, yeah, nice all right. She’s got a powerful lot of information stowed away in her sleek little brains, and she’s quite willing to impart it. Knows all the answers and likes to tell ’em. And advice! Good night! You can get enough of that on almost any topic you can name to carry you safe through life!’
“He just got that far and she came smiling out, and he put on his courtesy manners and shut up, but he had a twinkle in his eyes. You know, Mamma, Gordie knows his onions! He doesn’t miss a thing! You don’t need to worry about him. When he gets a girl, she’ll be all right!”
“Well, I hope so,” said the mother. “But somehow I thought it would be so nice if he took a girl we knew something about. A girl who had been brought up with nice ways. I didn’t know she was like that. She seemed awfully pleasant and sweet, and her mother wasn’t like that a bit. I knew her mother very well indeed.”
“Well, Mamma, you have to remember she had a father, too. Maybe he’s like that, always setting you right on every topic in the world. You didn’t know her father, did you?”
“No,” said the mother. “No, of course not. But children don’t inherit everything from each side, you know. Well, I’m glad if it was that reason he didn’t like her. I was just afraid he had got hold of some silly little nobody in New York, had his mind on her, and so couldn’t see anybody else for the present. I worried a lot because he didn’t tell me anything about what he was doing with his spare time. You know he always used to tell me about everything.”
“Yes,” said the father, “but you can’t expect him to keep that up always. As he gets older he’s bound to have a few reserves. We can’t hope to have him running to us every time he meets a new girl. Besides, Mamma, he did tell you what he was doing with his spare time. He said he was reading a lot.”
“Yes, I know, but that wouldn’t likely be all.”
“Well, there Mamma, you’d better learn your lesson too. You can’t keep a fine young man like our son tied to your apron strings always. A girl’s bound to come sometime. Perhaps he’ll hold off a bit till he is sure of himself, but you’ll know when it’s right, and till then can’t you trust him to the Lord? He’s a good boy, you know, and he’s the Lord’s own.”
“Yes, I know!” sighed the mother, and smiled a quivery little smile, till Papa McCarroll came over and kissed her the way he used to do when he was courting her, and her eyes met his with peace.
“Yes,” she said sweetly, “I suppose you’re right, and I know I oughtn’t to fret. God has been good to us, giving us such a wonderful son. You know, I feel he’s just like his father.” And she gave her husband a worshipful look.
“Now why did you have to spoil it all by that last sentence, Agnes? You know the only wise thing I ever did was to marry you, and I’ve always been proud to think that my son was so much like his wonderful mother!”
And then the picture faded out in peace and quietness.
Chapter 7
Rose was very quiet at the table. She felt that the whole outlook on things had been utterly changed by the few words her uncle had spoken. And it was all the worse, because in all probability the guest had overheard both her last words and what her uncle had said to her. She felt she could not bear to look at the man, and it seemed as if the shame she felt must certainly show. Her cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. She did not know how becoming it was to her, nor how it brought out the blue of her eyes till they matched her frock.
But it presently became evident that it was not necessary for her to take part in the conversation. It was not expected of her. They were talking on without her, above her head, out of her knowledge. It was as if she were a naughty child being reproved by being ignored.
The dinner was very good, but Rose did not feel like eating. It seemed as if she had swallowed a stone. She tried to appear to be eating, but no one seemed to notice her in the least, and she felt so exceedingly uncomfortable that in spite of herself, a deep resolve was formed in her young soul to get out of this place at once. Tomorrow morning, if she could.
Only tomorrow was Sunday, and there might not be service to help her on her way. Could she get through the Sunday? Her mother had told her that her family were ardent church people, going through all the forms and ceremonies, though without much
knowledge of real spiritual values. A look at either aunt or uncle would make that plain almost at first glance, she thought.
And the guest? She didn’t like his face at all. A narrow, thin, cadaverous countenance with high cheekbones, and eyeballs that protruded somewhat. Yet those eyes could look right through one, and every time she looked up she saw him looking at her. It made cold chills go down her back, as if he might be a wizard who could cast a spell over her and waft her away to a grim castle where she would be a prisoner and no one would be able to find her. Able? The word startled her. Who would want to take the trouble to search for her? Not these indifferent relatives certainly, who were mostly concerned lest they might have to spend a little for her or perjure themselves perhaps to get her suitably married so that she would do credit to the family.
Through her bitter thoughts she looked up once to find her aunt looking speculatively at her, and at last, in a pause, while they were waiting for the dessert to be brought in, she deliberately aimed a question at her.
“Would you like to see your mother’s piano?” she asked, whether as a favor, or for ulterior reason Rose could not be sure.
Rose looked up with a great eagerness growing in her eyes.
“Oh!” she said, “is it here? I would so much like to see it. She told me all about it, of course. It almost seems as if I had seen it myself. The little line of inlaid wood along the edges. Even the lettering. Mother drew it for me, so I know just how it is. I have the paper with me on which she drew it.”
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