Maggie Miller Part 10

In it he urged so many reasons why Maggie should avail herself of this opportunity for communicating with him that she yielded at last, and regularly each week old Hagar toiled through sunshine and through storm to the Richland post office, feeling amply repaid for her trouble when she saw the bright expectant face which almost always greeted her return. Occasionally, by way of lulling the suspicions of Madam Conway, Henry would direct a letter to Hillsdale, knowing full well it would never meet the eyes of Margaret, over whom, for the time being, a spy had been set, in the person of Anna Jeffrey.

This young lady, though but little connected with our story, may perhaps deserve a brief notice. Older than either Theo or Margaret, she was neither remarkable for beauty nor talent. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-browed, and, as the servants said, "dark in her disposition," she was naturally envious of those whose rank in life ent.i.tled them to more attention than she was herself accustomed to receive. For this reason Maggie Miller had from the first been to her an object of dislike, and she was well pleased when Madam Conway, enjoining the strictest secrecy, appointed her to watch that young lady, and see that no letter was ever carried by her to the post office which Madam Conway had not first examined. In the snaky eyes there was a look of exultation as Anna Jeffrey promised to be faithful to her trust, and for a time she became literally Maggie Miller's shadow, following her here, following her there, and following her everywhere, until Maggie complained so bitterly of the annoyance that Madam Conway at last, feeling tolerably sure that no counterplot was intended, revoked her orders, and bade Anna Jeffrey leave Margaret free to do as she pleased.

Thus relieved from espionage, Maggie became a little more like herself, though a sense of the injustice done her by her grandmother, together with the deception she knew she was practicing, wore upon her; and the servants at their work listened in vain for the merry laugh they had loved so well to hear. In the present state of Margaret's feelings Madam Conway deemed it prudent to say nothing of Arthur Carrollton, whose name was never mentioned save by Theo and Anna, the latter of whom had seen him in England, and was never so well pleased as when talking of his fine country seat, his splendid park, his handsome horses, and last, though not least, of himself. "He is," she said, "without exception, the most elegant and aristocratic young man I have ever seen;" and then for more than an hour she would entertain Theo with a repet.i.tion of the many agreeable things he had said to her during the one day she had spent at his house while Madam Conway was visiting there.

In perfect indifference, Maggie, who was frequently present, would listen to these stories, sometimes listlessly turning the leaves of a book, and again smiling scornfully as she thought how impossible it was that the fastidious Arthur Carrolton should have been at all pleased with a girl like Anna Jeffrey; and positive as Maggie was that she hated him, she insensibly began to feel a very slight degree of interest in him; at least, she would like to know how he looked; and one day when her grandmother and Theo were riding she stole cautiously to the box where she knew his picture lay, and, taking it out, looked to see if he were so very fine-looking.

Yes, he was,--Maggie acknowledged that; and, sure that she hated him terribly, she lingered long over that picture, admiring the cla.s.sically shaped head, the finely cut mouth, and more than all the large dark eyes which seemed so full of goodness and truth. "Pshaw!"

she exclaimed at last, restoring the picture to its place; "if Henry were only a little taller, and had as handsome eyes, he'd be a great deal better-looking. Anyway, I like him, and I hate Arthur Carrollton, who I know is domineering, and would try to make me mind. He has asked for my daguerreotype, grandma says--one which looks as I do now. I'll send it too," and she burst into a loud laugh at the novel idea which had crossed her mind.

That day when Madam Conway returned from her ride she was surprised at Maggie's proposing that Theo and herself should have their likenesses taken for Arthur Carrollton.

"If he wants my picture," said she, "I am willing he shall have it. It is all he'll ever get."

Delighted at this unexpected concession, Madam Conway gave her consent, and the next afternoon found Theo and Maggie at the daguerrean gallery in Hillsdale, where the latter astonished both her sister and the artist by declaring her intention of not only sitting with her bonnet and shawl on; but also of turning her back to the instrument! It was in vain that Theo remonstrated! "That position or none," she said; and the picture was accordingly taken, presenting a very correct likeness, when finished, of a bonnet, a veil, and a shawl, beneath which Maggie Miller was supposed to be.

Strange as it may seem, this freak struck Madam Conway favorably.

Arthur Carrollton knew that Maggie was unlike any other person, and the joke, she thought, would increase, rather than diminish, the interest he already felt in her. So she made no objection, and in a few days it was on its way to England, together with a lock of Hagar's snow-white hair, which Maggie had coaxed from the old lady, and, unknown to her grandmother, placed in the casing at the last moment.

Several weeks pa.s.sed away, and then there came an answer--a letter so full of wit and humor that Maggie confessed to herself that he must be very clever to write so many shrewd things and to be withal so perfectly refined. Accompanying the package was a small rosewood box, containing a most exquisite little pin made of Hagar's frosty hair, and richly ornamented with gold. Not a word was written concerning it, and as Maggie kept her own counsel, both Theo and her grandmother marveled greatly, admiring its beauty and wondering for whom it was intended.

"For me, of course," said Madam Conway. "The hair is Lady Carrollton's, Arthur's grandmother. I know it by its soft, silky look.

She has sent it as a token of respect, for she was always fond of me;"

and going to the gla.s.s she very complacently ornamented her Honiton collar with Hagar's hair, while Maggie, bursting with fun, beat a hasty retreat from the room, lest she should betray herself.

Thus the winter pa.s.sed away, and early in the spring George Douglas, to whom Madam Conway had long ago sent a favorable answer, came to visit his betrothed, bringing to Maggie a note from Rose, who had once or twice sent messages in Henry's letters. She was in Worcester now, and her health was very delicate. "Sometimes," she wrote, "I fear I shall never see you, Maggie Miller--shall never look into your beautiful face, or listen to your voice; but whether in heaven or on earth I am first to meet with you, my heart claims you as a sister, the one whom of all the sisters in the world I would rather call my own."

"Darling Rose!" murmured Maggie, pressing the delicately traced lines to her lips, "how near she seems to me! nearer almost than Theo;" and then involuntarily her thoughts went backward to the night when Henry Warner first told her of his love, and when in her dreams there had been a strange blending together of herself, of Rose, and the little grave beneath the pine!

But not yet was that veil of mystery to be lifted. Hagar's secret must be kept a little longer; and, unsuspicious of the truth, Maggie Miller must dream on of sweet Rose Warner, whom she hopes one day to call her sister!

There was also a message from Henry, and this George Douglas delivered in secret, for he did not care to displease his grandmother-elect, who viewing him through a golden setting, thought he was not to be equaled by anyone in America. "So gentlemanly," she said, "and so modest too,"

basing her last conclusion upon his evident unwillingness to say very much of himself or his family. Concerning the latter she had questioned him in vain, eliciting nothing save the fact that they lived in the country several miles from Worcester, and that his father always stayed at home, and consequently his mother went but little into society.

"Despises the vulgar herd, I dare say," thought Madam Conway, contemplating the pleasure she should undoubtedly derive from an acquaintance with Mrs. Douglas, senior!

"There was a sister, too," he said, and at this announcement Theo opened wide her blue eyes, asking her name, and why he had never mentioned her before.

"I call her Jenny," said he, coloring slightly, and adding playfully, as he caressed Theo's smooth, round cheek, "Wives do not usually like their husbands' sisters."

"But I shall like her, I know," said Theo. "She has a beautiful name, Jenny Douglas--much prettier than Rose Warner, about whom Maggie talks to me so much."

A gathering frown on her grandmother's face warned Theo that she had touched upon a forbidden subject, and as Mr. Douglas manifested no desire to continue the conversation it ceased for a time, Theo wishing she could see Jenny Douglas, and George wondering what she would say when she did see her!

For a few days longer he lingered, and ere his return it was arranged that early in July Theo should be his bride. On the morning of his departure, as he stood upon the steps alone with Madam Conway, she said, "I think I can rely upon you, Mr. Douglas, not to carry either letter, note, or message from Maggie to that young Warner. I've forbidden him in my house, and I mean what I say."

"I a.s.sure you, madam, she has not asked me to carry either,"

answered George; who, though he knew perfectly well of the secret correspondence, had kept it to himself. "You mistake Mr. Warner, I think," he continued, after a moment. "I have known him long, and esteem him highly."

"Tastes differ," returned Madam Conway coldly. "No man of good breeding would presume to cut up my grandfather's coat or drink up my best wine."

"He intended no disrespect, I'm sure," answered George. "He only wanted a little fun with the 'Stars and Stripes.'"

"It was fun for which he will pay most dearly, though," answered Madam Conway, as she bade Mr. Douglas good-by; then, walking back to the parlor, she continued speaking to herself: "'Stars and Stripes'!

I'll teach him to cut up my blue bodice for fun. I wouldn't give him Margaret if his life depended upon it;" and sitting down she wrote to Arthur Carrollton, asking if he really intended visiting America, and when.

CHAPTER XIII.

SOCIETY.

During the remainder of the spring matters at the old stone house proceeded about as usual, Maggie writing regularly to Henry, who as regularly answered, while old Hagar managed it so adroitly that no one suspected the secret correspondence, and Madam Conway began to hope her granddaughter had forgotten the foolish fancy. Arthur Carrollton had replied that his visit to America, though sure to take place, was postponed indefinitely, and so the good lady had nothing in particular with which to busy herself, save the preparations for Theo's wedding, which was to take place near the first of July.

Though setting a high value upon money, Madam Conway was not penurious, and the bridal trousseau far exceeded anything which Theo had expected. As the young couple were not to keep house for a time, a most elegant suite of rooms had been selected in a fashionable hotel; and determining that Theo should not, in point of dress, be rivaled by any of her fellow-boarders, Madam Conway spared neither time nor money in making the outfit perfect. So for weeks the old stone house presented a scene of great confusion. Chairs, tables, lounges, and piano were piled with finery, on which Anna Jeffrey worked industriously, a.s.sisted sometimes by her aunt, whom Madam Conway p.r.o.nounced altogether too superannuated for a governess, and who, though really an excellent scholar, was herself far better pleased with muslin robes and satin bows than with French idioms and Latin verbs. Perfectly delighted, Maggie joined in the general excitement, wondering occasionally when and where her own bridal would be. Once she ventured to ask if Henry Warner and his sister might be invited to Theo's wedding; but Madam Conway answered so decidedly in the negative that she gave it up, consoling herself with thinking that she would some time visit her sister, and see Henry in spite of her grandmother.

The marriage was very quiet, for Madam Conway had no acquaintance, and the family alone witnessed the ceremony. At first Madam Conway had hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, senior, together with their daughter Jenny, would be present, and she had accordingly requested George to invite them, feeling greatly disappointed when she learned that they could not come.

"I wanted so much to see them," she said to Maggie, "and know whether they are worthy to be related to the Conways--but of course they are, as much so as any American family. George has every appearance of refinement and high-breeding."

"But his family, for all that, may be as ignorant as Farmer Canfield's," answered Maggie; to which her grandmother replied: "You needn't tell me that, for I'm not to be deceived in such matters. I can tell at a glance if a person is low-born, no matter what their education or advantages may have been. Who's that?" she added quickly, and turning round she saw old Hagar, her eyes lighted up and her lips moving with incoherent sounds.

Hagar had come up to the wedding, and had reached the door of Madam Conway's room just in time to hear the last remark, which roused her at once.

"Why don't she discover my secret, then," she muttered, "if she has so much discernment? Why don't she see the Hagar blood in her? for it's there, plain as day;" and she glanced proudly at Maggie, who, in her simple robe of white, was far more beautiful than the bride.

And still Theo, in her handsome traveling dress, was very fair to look upon, and George Douglas felt proud that she was his, resolving, as he kissed away the tears she shed at parting, that the vow he had just made should never be broken. A few weeks of pleasant travel westward, and then the newly wedded pair came back to what, for a time, was to be their home.

George Douglas was highly respected in Worcester, both as a man of honor and a man of wealth; consequently, every possible attention was paid to Theo, who was petted and admired, until she began to wonder why neither Maggie nor yet her all-discerning grandmother had discovered how charming and faultless she was!

Among George's acquaintance was a Mrs. Morton, a dashing, fashionable woman, who determined to honor the bride with a party, to which all the elite of Worcester were invited, together with many Bostonians.

Madam Conway and Maggie were of course upon the list; and, as timely notice was given them by Theo, Madam Conway went twice to Springfield in quest of a suitable dress for Maggie. She wanted something becoming, she said; and a delicate rose-colored satin, with a handsome overskirt of lace, was at last decided upon.

"She must have some pearls for her hair," thought Madam Conway; and when next Maggie, who, girl-like, tried the effect of her first party dress at least a dozen times, stood before the gla.s.s to see if it were exactly the right length, she was presented with the pearls, which Anna Jeffrey, with a feeling of envy at her heart, arranged in the shining braids of her hair.

"Oh, isn't it perfectly splendid!" cried Maggie, herself half inclined to compliment the beautiful image reflected in the mirror.

"You ought to see Arthur Carrollton's sister when she is dressed, if you think you look handsome," answered Anna, adding that diamonds were much more fashionable than pearls.

"You have attended a great many parties and seen a great deal of fashion, so I dare say you are right," Maggie answered ironically; and then, as through the open window she saw Hagar approaching, she ran out upon the _piazza_, to see what the old woman would say.

Hagar had never seen her thus before, and now, throwing up her hands in astonishment, she involuntarily dropped upon her knees, and, while the tears rained over her timeworn face, whispered, "Hester's child--my granddaughter--Heaven be praised!"

"Do I look pretty?" Margaret asked; and Hagar answered: "More beautiful than anyone I ever saw. I wish your mother could see you now."

Involuntarily Maggie glanced at the tall marble gleaming through the distant trees, while Hagar's thoughts were down in that other grave--the grave beneath the pine. The next day was the party, and at an early hour Madam Conway was ready. Her rich purple satin and Valenciennes laces, with which she hoped to impress Mrs. Douglas, senior, were carefully packed up, together with Maggie's dress; and then, shawled and bonneted, she waited impatiently for her carriage, which she preferred to the cars. It came at last, but in place of John, the usual coachman, Mike, a rather wild youth of twenty, was mounted upon the box. His father, he said, had been taken suddenly ill, and had deputized him to drive.