CHAPTER XVIII
THE HEART-BROKEN MISS WALLACE
"Lucile, are you sure?"
"Virginia, if you ask me that again, I'll believe you think I fib. Ofcourse I'm sure!"
"Did you see him more than once, Lucile?"
"Priscilla, I've told you a dozen times that I saw him one wholeafternoon long at Versailles. Isn't that long enough to remember him,I'd like to know?"
"And Miss Wallace said when she introduced him--just what did she say,anyhow?"
"Vivian Winters, you make me sick! You really do! She said--and this isthe twentieth time I've told you--she said, 'Lucile, I want you to meetmy dear friend, Mr. Taylor.'"
"And what did he say?"
"Will you please listen this time, Dorothy, for it's positively thelast time I shall tell you. He said, 'Any friend of Miss Wallace's ismy friend, too.' And he gazed at her with his very soul. You forgot hehad eyes at all!"
The exasperated Lucile leaned back among her pillows, and munched thecandy with which she had generously supplied herself.
"You really all do make me tired," she said between her bites. "I'vetold you over and over again that any one could see that he loved herfrom the way he gazed at her; that the picture she's had all the yearup to six weeks ago on her dresser was his; and that I know her heartis broken. Now, what more can I say?"
"It isn't that we don't believe you, Lucile," Virginia hastened toexplain. "It's just--well, you see you do have a very romantictendency, and--"
"Of course, I do. It's my temperament. I've heard father say so adozen times. Besides, I've lived in Paris, and the very stones ofParis breathe romance!"
"Well, I really think Lucile is right, sad as it seems. Miss Wallacehasn't been herself since Easter; and it was just then that thepicture disappeared from her dresser. Of course Lucile couldn't havebeen with him a whole afternoon and not know his face; and, naturally,she would know how he treated her." This announcement from Priscillawas not without effect.
"Of course I would," reiterated the encouraged Lucile. "Didn't I seehim gaze at her, and call her 'Margaret,' and her, when she called him'Bob'?"
"Did you see him do anything but gaze?" asked Dorothy, still a littleincredulous. "He seems to have gazed all the time."
"Why, of course, right at Versailles, he wouldn't have taken her hand,or anything like that. A gaze can speak volumes, I'll have you toknow. But when we sailed from Havre, and he stayed to study at theSorbonne, he put his arms around her and kissed her. It wasthrilling!"
This new piece of information was indisputable proof, which, placed bythe side of the strange disappearance of the said Mr. Taylor'spicture, and the strange and unwonted sadness of Miss Wallace, formeda bulk of evidence, to disbelieve which was folly.
"Oh, I'm afraid it's true," said Virginia, echoing the misgivings ofher room-mate. "She looks so quiet and sad, it just breaks my heart. Iactually know she'd been crying the other day when I saw her comingout of the Retreat. Probably she went there for comfort. Poor thing!How could he have been so cruel?"
"Why, maybe it wasn't he. Maybe he's suffering, and pacing the streetsof Paris this moment, preferring death to life." Lucile's imagination,so fruitless in the channels of academic thought, was certainlyprolific in the flowery paths of Romance. "Perhaps Miss Wallace feltthe call to service, broke her engagement, and has decided to give hervery life to help others."
"I don't think Miss Wallace would do that," Virginia saidthoughtfully. "Not that it isn't a wonderful thing to do; but I feelsome way as though she'd rather be a mother. One evening lastThanksgiving I was in her room, and we were talking about the thingsgirls could do in the world. I asked her what she thought was thenoblest thing; and she said in the sweetest voice, 'A real mother,Virginia.'"
"And she is just a born mother," added Priscilla. "Mother said so atThanksgiving. Oh, dear! Why did it have to happen?"
No one pretended to know. Lucile was inclined to attribute it to Fate;while Dorothy advanced the thought that it might be a trial sent toprove Miss Wallace's strength.
"And it's wonderful how strong she is," she said. "She's usually sojolly at table; and last night she was the very life of the party. Onewould never have known."
"Yes, and she probably went home to a sleepless night," suggestedLucile, "and tossed about till morning."
"It seems to me she's been happier lately."
"She's probably learning to bear it better--that's all."
"She's never worn an engagement ring, has she?" asked the practicalVivian.
"No, but of course she wouldn't wear it here. It would excite too muchcomment," Priscilla explained.
"Without doubt she had one, and wore it around her neck, before ithappened," Lucile again suggested.
"Oh, if we could only show her in some way that we're sorry for her!That would, perhaps, help a little," said Virginia. "Do you supposeshe'd feel we were interfering if we sent her some flowers? We needn'tsay a thing, but just write 'With sympathy' or 'With love' on a card,and she'd understand. Do you think she'd like it, Priscilla?"
"Why, yes, I think she would. And 'twould relieve our minds. We'd knowwe'd done all we could. I suppose time will make it easier for her tobear."
"Maybe it's just a misunderstanding, and they'll come together again,when they see they can't live without each other," said Vivianhopefully.
"Maybe, but I feel that it's the end! And oh, if you girls could onlyhave seen them together and known that they were made for each other!Fate is cruel!" wailed Lucile tragically.
"Well, are we going to send the flowers?" asked Virginia. She wasaching for Miss Wallace, but Lucile's romantic ravings were a littletiring. "If we do, let's not say a word to any one. Miss Wallace,being in The Hermitage, belongs to us more anyway; and I think weought to love her enough to guard her secret. I know she wouldn't wishit known. Of course, as things have happened, we can't help knowing,but we can help talking about it to others. You haven't told any oneelse, have you, Lucile?"
"Of course not. Don't you suppose I know better than all of you thatlife would be simply impossible to her if she thought the world knew.Remember, _I've_ seen them together!"
"What kind of flowers do you think we'd better send?"
"Pink carnations."
"Oh, no, carnations are too common!"
"Violets then."
"Oh, spare her that! He gave her violets that afternoon atVersailles!"
"Roses, why not?"
"Anything but red roses. They mean undying love, and hers is dead."
"Why not send her daffodils?" proposed Virginia. "They're so cheeryand hopeful, and look like spring."
Every one seemed agreed that, under the circumstances, Virginia'schoice was the most appropriate. It was thereupon decided thatdaffodils be sent to Miss Wallace; but that, to save her possibleembarrassment, the names of the donors be kept secret. Dorothy andVivian were delegated to go to Hillcrest and make the purchase, whilethe others tried to enliven their sympathetic hearts by tennis.
Meanwhile, during this session of sympathy in her behalf, Miss Wallacesat in her school-room, correcting an avalanche of themes, whichseemed to have no end. "Dear me!" she sighed to herself, "no girl inthis whole school will be so glad of vacation as I. I've never taughtthrough such a year."
It certainly had been a hard and trying year. In the fall Miss Green'stactlessness had required an extra amount of discretion on the part ofMiss Wallace; in the winter the German Measles had broken into theregularity necessary for good work; and all through the year she hadbeen required to watch, which occupation she found harder than anyother--watch a girl, to whom she had never been able to come close, andwhom she had failed to influence toward better things. She could notreally blame herself for her failure in helping Imogene, but she feltsorry, because, knowing Imogene, she feared that life would never holdwhat it might for her. Altogether, it had been a hard year; and shewould not have been human had she not at times looked tired,thoughtful, and even sad.
"You need a re
st, my dear," said the old Hillcrest doctor, meeting herone day in the village. "You're quite tired out, working for thosenice girls up there." But that pile of themes did not look likeimmediate rest; and, sharpening her red pencil, she went to workagain.
She left the school-room just as the warning-bell was ringing andcrossed the campus to The Hermitage, longing for letters. On her deskshe found a package and a telegram, which, when she had read it, madeher tired face glow with happiness. "Dear Bob!" she said to herself."He deserves it all. I'm so glad!"
"His picture has come back, too," she added, untying the package,"just in time for the good news. You dear old fellow! You deserve asilver frame, and the nicest girl in the world."
There came a knock at her door just then, and the maid passed her along box from the florist's. Surprised, she opened it to find dozensof yellow daffodils, and a card, which said in carefully disguisedhandwriting, "With deepest love, and tenderest sympathy."
"Why, what can it mean?" she thought mystified. "I always need thelove, but I certainly don't need sympathy. I never was so happy in mylife!"
The supper-bell rang just then, and put a stop to her wonderings. Shedressed hurriedly, placed some daffodils at her waist, and descendedto the dining-room, a trifle late, but wholly radiant.
"She surely doesn't look sad to-night," mused more than one at thetable. "Could the flowers have made her happier so soon, or what isit?"
Half an hour before study hour, Miss Wallace called Virginia to herroom.
"I know you love daffodils, Virginia," she said, "and I want you tosee this gorgeous quantity which some mysterious person has sent me.And the strangest part about it is that they come with 'tenderestsympathy.' It's especially funny to-night, because I'm so happy. Ithink I really must tell you about it."
Virginia's heart beat fast with excitement. Was this beloved teacherof hers really going to confide in her? Her eyes followed MissWallace's to the dresser, and there, reclothed in a shining silverframe, was Mr. Taylor--Miss Wallace's own Mr. Taylor! So it had beenonly a misunderstanding after all! The dream of Miss Wallace's lifewas not dead, but living, and she was happy! One glance at her facewas proof of that! Virginia was so happy herself that she longed totell her so; but perhaps she had best not just now. Besides, what wasMiss Wallace saying?
"I don't know that I've ever told you about my cousin, Robert Taylor,Virginia. You've seen his picture of course--that is till recently whenI sent it away to have it framed. To-night I had a cable from him,telling me that he's actually engaged to the dearest girl I know.We've both been hoping for it for months--I almost as much as he--andMary's just decided that she can't get along without him. I'm sodelighted!"
It seemed impossible that Virginia's heart could have undergone such ametamorphosis as it had in the last minute.
"Is--? is--he your cousin?" she asked in a queer, strained little voice.But Miss Wallace was so happy that she did not notice it.
"Why, yes, he's really my cousin, but he seems like my brother, forhis mother died when he was a baby, and my mother brought him up. Sowe've always lived together, just like brother and sister, and I neverthink of any difference. Why, my dear, where are you going? The bellhasn't rung." For Virginia was half way out of the door.
"I--must go," she stammered. "The girls are waiting for me up-stairs."
Four more crestfallen and unromantic girls never existed than thosewhich looked at one another at the conclusion of Virginia's story.
"I never felt so silly in my life!" she added, after the lastrainbow-colored bubble had been burst.
"Nor I!" cried Priscilla.
"Let's be everlastingly grateful we didn't sign our names," saidDorothy.
"And he was just away being framed!" moaned Vivian.
"Where's Lucile?"
"Oh, she's probably moaning in her room over Fate!"
"She needs a tonic!" said Priscilla. "Let's go and tell her so."
"It won't do a bit of good," Virginia observed, as they started downthe hall to employ the remaining five minutes in disciplining Lucile."It's her temperament, you know; and, besides, the very stones ofParis breathe Romance!"
The Girl from the Big Horn Country Page 18
