A Colony of Girls Part 27

At last the evening was over, and they stood in the hotel office, awaiting the arrival of the stage. Jean was somewhat apart from the others, with Maynard bending over her and talking to her in lowered tones.

Her little foot tapped the floor nervously, her cheeks burned hotly, and one unsteady little hand waved a big fan to and fro. Her courage was rapidly forsaking her, and she rallied all her strength in one last effort to appear naturally gay and at ease. She felt she must not break down now with Farr only a few paces away, for, although she never raised her eyes, yet she knew he was watching her.

As pretty little Mrs. Maynard moved about among her guests, speaking to them in her softly modulated voice, she bent a glance of anxious intentness upon Jean. She was far too inured to her husband's indifference to be deeply hurt by this new flirtation carried on before her very eyes, but this new phase in Jean's character puzzled her. But her own sad experience had quickened her intuition of others'

unhappiness, and so it was that in her gentle heart there was more of commiseration than anger.

Her thoughts were interrupted by d.i.c.k's announcement that the stage was at the door. When Jean came to bid her good-night she looked into the strained, pathetic eyes with compa.s.sionate tenderness, and a sudden impulse made her lean forward and kiss the girl lovingly.

Once more the old stage rumbled over the road between Hetherford and Crescent Beach. The wind had veered a point to the east, and blew damp and chill, driving before it a mist of clouds across the sky, obscuring the moon's bright light. The sudden change in the atmosphere was felt by everybody, and the conversation was spasmodic, broken by long intervals of silence. Jean, very white and still now that the tension was relaxed, shrank back into her corner clinging fast to Eleanor's hand. In a further corner Farr sat at Helen's side, silent during the whole of the long drive.

CHAPTER XV.

HELEN IS PUZZLED.

Miss Stuart's visit was drawing to a close, and Nan was giving a luncheon in her honor. The little parlor of the parsonage was redolent with the fragrance of roses and mignonette, which were ma.s.sed in every vase and bowl, and the arrangement of the simple, old-fashioned furniture bore evidence of Nan's artistic taste. A few good etchings and a half-dozen rare old prints adorned the walls, and scattered about on the low mantel were several valuable bits of _vertu_.

Nan stood in the center of the room, and received her guests with outstretched hand and beaming face.

"Now, I call this delightful," she said cheerily, as she shook hands with Miss Stuart. "Even father has gone away for the day, so we are a typical Hetherford party--all girls and no men. Em said you would be bored to death," she rattled on in a confidential undertone, "but for once in a way I thought you might find it amusing to have plenty of your own s.e.x. It is no novelty to us, as Em will tell you with a face as long as the moral code."

"I think it is charming," Miss Stuart affirmed, with a greater regard for amiability than for truth.

Nan smiled mischievously.

"Confess it is dull."

"Indeed it is not, Miss Nan. The imp of dullness would never dare to show his surly face in your presence."

"Ah, you do not know," and Nan shook her head in laughing protest.

"Drop in here any Sunday between church-time and dinner, and you will find us boon companions."

The door into the dining-room was opened, and a grim-visaged woman in a starched calico gown of uncompromising stiffness appeared on the threshold. For a moment she eyed Nan threateningly, and then announced:

"Your lunch is on the table," and added, as she faced about and marched back into the dining room, "and it's getting cold."

Nan, in no wise disconcerted, turned a wry face toward her guests:

"Biddy and I had one of our most deadly affrays just before you arrived, so don't be surprised at anything she may give us for luncheon. I tried, for your sakes, to keep my temper until later in the day, but it wouldn't be kept."

"It never will," sighed Emily ruefully, in the midst of the general laugh.

Nan ushered them into the dining room:

"Miss Stuart, will you sit here on my right? Girls, take any places you want."

"You needn't have worried about luncheon, Nan. These biscuits are simply delicious," observed Helen, consolingly, as Bridget vanished into the kitchen. "Biddy is far too proud of her skill to disgrace you."

"Oh, she would not mind me," laughed Nan airily. "Nothing would restrain her but her sense of importance, and her undying jealousy of your cook."

"What a glorious time we had at the dance," Emily remarked irrelevantly. "It was about the most successful thing we have done this summer. It has made such a difference having the _Vortex_ here, hasn't it, Jean?"

Jean, thus addressed, changed color rapidly, and then was furious with herself, for she caught Miss Stuart's eyes fixed on her with insolent directness.

"Oh, bother the _Vortex_," cried Mollie petulantly. "Don't let us talk about men. There are dozens of subjects more interesting."

"We will make it 'man,' and talk of d.i.c.k. Eh, Mollie?" and Nathalie laughed provokingly.

"We couldn't do better," responded Mollie imperturbably. "d.i.c.k is lovely, is he not, Miss Stuart?"

Miss Stuart flung back her head with a merry laugh; no whit embarra.s.sed by the nave question. d.i.c.k had been her shadow for the past week, and was sighing and pining like the most approved of lovers, yet she answered with a nonchalance which Nathalie would have given worlds to acquire.

"He is truly charming, Miss Mollie. I quite share your enthusiasm."

Then she dropped out of the conversation, listening with languid interest to the topics which the others fell to discussing with much animation. Their views of life differed materially from her own; their complete unworldliness called a half-contemptuous smile to her lips, and yet there was awakened within her a shadowy feeling of regret. She had lived a purely pleasure-loving life, without a thought beyond her own advancement along the line of her ambitions. To a certain extent she had been eminently successful. Her marvelous beauty, supplemented by a decided mental ability, had strewn her path with the admiration and adulation which she craved, and faults and failings, which in a less beautiful woman would have received harsh censure, were in her case overlooked and condoned. To-day, for the first time, the thought a.s.sailed her that perhaps she was the victim of an erroneous idea; that perhaps these young girls, living their lives so simply, actuated by a desire to act uprightly and to be honest and affectionate in every relationship in life, had found a happiness which had eluded her grasp.

Nathalie, who vainly strove at times to be cynical, made some careless remark, and Miss Stuart listened wonderingly to a gentle remonstrance which Eleanor administered in accents of earnestness.

"Ah! Nat, dear, don't say that, even in fun. Everything makes a difference."

"Indeed, yes," added Helen.

"No stream from its source flows seaward, How lonely soever its course, But what some land is gladdened.

No star ever rose or set Without influence somewhere."

She quoted the lines charmingly, despite the little shyness which was so characteristic of her.

"I suppose that is true," said Mollie thoughtfully; "and in the large things in life we know that we can only be in harmony with G.o.d's plan by acting absolutely in accordance with our consciences. But it is hard to realize the importance of our decision in regard to the small daily occurrences. They seem almost too insignificant to exert any influence, either for good or evil."

"Influence does not lie only in deeds, Mollie," Eleanor replied, "either small or great. It seems to me that it is what we are, not what we do, that is the essential thing. If one's heart is pure and true, purity and truth will be manifested in one's actions, however trivial. And remember, dear, for I am going to quote now:

"No life can be strong in its purpose and pure in its strife, And all life not be stronger and purer thereby."

Jean gave her friend's hand an affectionate squeeze.

"I do believe you are the best girl living," she whispered softly, with an air of profound conviction.

"You see, girls, what it is to have a friend like Jean."

"You mean like Eleanor," Jean promptly retorted.

"I suppose that is true friendship," mused Mollie.

"Must friendship necessarily be as blind as love?" queried Nan, with a smile at the two girls which robbed the words of any sting.