Maggie Miller Part 14

"Steal me not, for fear of shame.

For here you see my owner's name:

"CHARITY DOUGLAS."

As the lettering was small and not very distinct, it required a close observation to decipher it; but the plan was a successful one, nevertheless, and for four long years the blue umbrella had done good service to its mistress, shielding her alike from sunshine and from storm, and now in the crowded city it performed a double part, preventing those standing near from seeing, while at the same time it kept the dust from settling on the thick green veil and leghorn bonnet of its owner. At Betsy Jane's suggestion she wore a hoop to-day on Theo's account, and that she was painfully conscious of the fact was proved by the many anxious glances she cast at her chocolate-colored muslin, through the thin folds of which it was plainly visible.

"I wish I had left the pesky thing to hum," she thought, feeling greatly relieved when at last, as the crowd became greater, it was broken in several pieces and ceased to do its duty.

From her seat near the window Madam Conway caught sight of the umbrella as it swayed up and down amid the mult.i.tude, but she had no suspicion that she who bore it thus aloft had even a better right than herself to sit where she was sitting. In her excitement she had forgotten Mrs. Douglas' intended visit, to prepare Theo for which she had returned to Worcester, but it came to her at length, when, as the last fire company pa.s.sed, the blue umbrella was closed, and the leghorn bonnet turned in the direction of the hotel. There was no mistaking the broad, good-humored face which looked so eagerly up at "George's window," and involuntarily Madam Conway glanced under the bed with the view of fleeing thither for refuge!

"What shall I do?" she cried, as she heard the umbrella on the stairs.

"I'll lock her out," she continued; and in an instant the key was in her pocket, while, trembling in every limb, she awaited the result.

Nearer and nearer the footsteps came; there was a knock upon the door, succeeded by a louder one, and then, as both these failed to elicit a response, the handle of the umbrella was vigorously applied. But all in vain, and Madam Conway heard the discomfited outsider say, "They told me Theodoshy's grandmarm was here, but I guess she's in the street. I'll come agin bime-by," and Mrs. Douglas, senior, walked disconsolately down the stairs, while Madam Conway thought it doubtful whether she gained access to the room that day, come as often as she might.

Not long after, the gong sounded for dinner, and unlocking the door Madam Conway was about descending to the dining room, when the thought burst upon her: "What if she should be at the table! It's just like her."

The very idea was overwhelming, taking from her at once all desire for dinner; and returning to her room she tried, by looking over the books and examining the carpet, to forget how hungry and faint she was.

Whether she would have succeeded is doubtful, had not an hour or two later brought another knock from the umbrella, and driven all thoughts of eating from her mind. In grim silence she waited until her tormentor was gone, and then wondering if it was not time for the train she consulted her watch. But alas! 'twas only four; the cars did not leave until six; and so another weary hour went by. At the end of that time, however, thinking the depot preferable to being a prisoner there, she resolved to go; and leaving the key with the clerk, she called a carriage and was soon on her way to the cars.

As she approached the depot she observed an immense crowd of people gathered together, among which the red coats of the firemen were conspicuous. A fight was evidently in progress, and as the horses began to grow restive she begged of the driver to let her alight, saying she could easily walk the remainder of the way. Scarcely, however, was she on terra-firma when the yelling crowd made a precipitate rush towards her, and in much alarm she climbed for safety into an empty buggy, whereupon the horse, equally alarmed, began to rear, and without pausing an instant the terrified lady sprang out on the side opposite to that by which she had entered, catching her dress upon the seat, and tearing half the gathers from the waist.

"Heaven help me!" she cried, picking herself up, and beginning to wish she had never troubled herself with Theo's mother-in-law.

To reach the depot was now her great object, and, as the two belligerent parties occupied the front, she thought to effect an entrance at the rear. But the doors were locked, and as she turned the corner of the building she suddenly found herself in the thickest of the fight. To advance was impossible, to turn back equally so, and while meditating some means of escape she lost her footing and fell across a wheelbarrow which stood upon the platform, crumpling her bonnet, and scratching her face upon a nail which protruded from the vehicle. Nearer dead than alive, she made her way at last into the depot, and from thence into the cars, where, sinking into a seat, and drawing her shawl closely around her, the better to conceal the sad condition of her dress, she indulged in meditations not wholly complimentary to firemen in general and her late comrades in particular.

For half an hour she waited impatiently, but though the cars were filling rapidly there were no indications of starting; and it was almost seven ere the long and heavily loaded train moved slowly from the depot. About fifteen minutes previous to their departure, as Madam Conway was looking ruefully out upon the mult.i.tude, she was horrified at seeing directly beneath her window the veritable woman from whom, through the entire day, she had been hiding. Involuntarily she glanced at the vacant seat in front of her, which, as she feared, was soon occupied by Mrs. Douglas and her companion, who, as Madam Conway divined, was "Sam Babbit's wife."

Trembling nervously lest she should be discovered, she drew her veil closely over her face, keeping very quiet, and looking intently from the window into the gathering darkness without. But her fears were groundless, for Mrs. Douglas had no suspicion that the crumpled bonnet and sorry figure, sitting so disconsolately in the corner, was the same which but the day before had honored her with a call. She was in high spirits, having had, as she informed her neighbor, "a tip-top time." On one point, however, she was disappointed. She meant as much as could be to have seen "Theodoshy," but she "wan't to hum." "Her grandmarm was in town," said she, "but if she was in the room she must have been asleep, or dreadful deaf, for I pounded with all my might.

I'm sorry, for I'd like to sc.r.a.pe acquaintance with her, bein' we're connected."

An audible groan came from beneath the thick brown veil, whereupon both ladies turned their heads. But the indignant woman made no sign; and, in a whisper loud enough for Madam Conway to hear, Mrs. Douglas said, "Some Irish critter in liquor, I presume. Look at her jammed bonnet."

This remark drew from Mrs. Babbit a very close inspection of the veiled figure, who, smothering her wrath, felt greatly relieved when the train started and prevented her from hearing anything more. At the next station, however, Mrs. Douglas showed her companion a crochet collar, which she had purchased for two shillings, and which, she said, was almost exactly like the one worn by the woman who stopped at her house the day before.

Leaning forward, Madam Conway glanced contemptuously at the coa.r.s.e knit thing, which bore about the same resemblance to her own handsome collar as cambric does to satin.

"Vulgar, ignorant creatures!" she muttered, while Mrs. Babbit, after duly praising the collar, proceeded to make some inquiries concerning the strange lady who had shared Mrs. Douglas' hospitality.

"I've no idee who she was," said Mrs. Douglas; "but I think it's purty likely she was some crazy critter they was takin' to the hospital."

Another groan from beneath the brown veil, and turning around the kind-hearted Mrs. Douglas asked if she was sick, adding in an aside, as there came no answer, "Been fightin', I'll warrant!"

Fortunately for Madam Conway, the cars moved on, and when they stopped again, to her great relief, the owner of the blue umbrella, together with "Sam Babbit's wife," alighted, and amid the crowd a.s.sembled on the platform she recognized Betsy Jane, who had come down to meet her mother. The remainder of the way seemed tedious enough, for the train moved but slowly, and it was near ten o'clock ere they reached the Hillsdale station, where, to her great delight, Madam Conway found Margaret awaiting her, together with Arthur Carrollton. The moment she saw the former, who came eagerly forward to meet her, the weary, worn-out woman burst into tears; but at the sight of Mr. Carrollton she forced them back, saying, in reply to Maggie's inquiries, that Theo was not at home, and that she had spent a dreadful day, and been knocked down in a fight at the depot, in proof of which she pointed to her torn dress, her crumpled bonnet, and scratched face. Maggie laughed aloud in spite of herself, and though Mr. Carrollton's eyes were several times turned reprovingly upon her she continued to laugh at intervals at the sorry, forlorn appearance presented by her grandmother, who for several days was confined to her bed from the combined effects of fasting, fright, firemen's muster, and her late encounter with Mrs. Douglas, senior!

CHAPTER XV.

ARTHUR CARROLLTON AND MAGGIE.

Mr. Carrollton had returned from Boston on Thursday afternoon, and, finding them all gone from the hotel, had come on to Hillsdale on the evening train, surprising Maggie as she sat in the parlor alone, wishing herself in Worcester, or in some place where it was not as lonely as there. With his presence the loneliness disappeared, and in making his tea and listening to his agreeable conversation she forgot everything, until, observing that she looked weary, he said: "Maggie, I would willingly talk to you all night, were it not for the bad effect it would have on you to-morrow. You must go to bed now," and he showed her his watch, which pointed to the hour of midnight.

Exceedingly mortified, Maggie was leaving the room, when, noticing her evident chagrin, Mr. Carrollton came to her side, and laying his hand very respectfully on hers, said kindly: "It is my fault, Maggie, keeping you up so late, and I only send you away now because those eyes are growing heavy, and I know that you need rest. Good-night to you, and pleasant dreams."

He went with her to the door, watching her until she disappeared up the stairs; then, half wishing he had not sent her from him, he too sought his chamber; but not to sleep, for Maggie, though absent, was with him still in fancy. For more than a year he had been haunted by a bright, sunshiny face, whose owner embodied the dashing, independent spirit and softer qualities which made Maggie Miller so attractive. Of this face he had often thought, wondering if the real would equal the ideal, and now that he had met with her, had looked into her truthful eyes, had gazed upon her sunny face, which mirrored faithfully every thought and feeling, he was more than satisfied, and to love that beautiful girl seemed to him an easy matter. She was so childlike, so artless, so different from anyone whom he had ever known, that he was interested in her at once. But Arthur Carrollton never did a thing precipitately. She might have many glaring faults; he must see her more, must know her better, ere he lavished upon her the love whose deep fountains had never yet been stirred.

After this manner he reasoned as he walked up and down his chamber, while Maggie, on her sleepless pillow, was thinking, too, of him, wondering if she did hate him as much as she intended, and if Henry would be offended at her sitting up with him until after twelve o'clock.

It was nearly half-past nine when Maggie awoke next morning, and making a hasty toilet she descended to the dining room, where she found Mr. Carrollton awaiting her. He had been up a long time; but when Anna Jeffrey, blessed with an uncommon appet.i.te, fretted at the delay of breakfast, and suggested calling Margaret, he objected, saying she needed rest, and must not be disturbed. So, in something of a pet, the young lady breakfasted alone with her aunt, Mr. Carrollton preferring to wait for Maggie.

"I am sorry I kept you waiting," said Maggie, seating herself at the table and continuing to apologize for her tardiness.

But Mr. Carrollton felt more than repaid by having her thus alone with him, and many were the admiring glances he cast toward her, as, with her shining hair, her happy face, her tasteful morning gown of pink, and her beautiful white hands which handled so gracefully the silver coffee-urn, she made a living, glowing picture such as any man might delight to look upon. Breakfast being over, Mr. Carrollton proposed a ride, and as Anna Jeffrey at that moment entered the parlor he invited her to accompany them. There was a shadow on Maggie's brow as she left the room to dress, a shadow which had not wholly disappeared when she returned; and, observing this, Mr. Carrollton said, "Were I to consult my own wishes, Maggie, I should leave Miss Jeffrey at home; but she is a poor girl whose enjoyments are far less than ours, consequently I invited her for this once, knowing how fond she is of riding."

"How thoughtful you are of other people's happiness!" said Maggie, the shadow leaving her brow at once.

"I am glad that wrinkle has gone, at all events," returned Mr.

Carrollton laughingly, and laying his hand upon her forehead he continued: "Were you my sister Helen I should probably kiss you for having so soon got over your pet; but as you are Maggie Miller, I dare not," and he looked earnestly at her, to see if he had spoken the truth.

Coloring crimson, as it became the affianced bride of Henry Warner to do, Maggie turned away, thinking Helen must be a happy girl, and half wishing she too were Arthur Carrollton's sister. It was a long, delightful excursion they took, and Maggie, when she saw how Anna Jeffrey enjoyed it, did not altogether regret her presence. On their way home she proposed calling upon Hagar, whom she had not seen for "three whole days."

"And who, pray, is Hagar?" asked Mr. Carrollton; and Maggie replied, "She is my old nurse--a strange, crazy creature, whom they say I somewhat resemble."

By this time they were near the cottage, in the door of which old Hagar was standing, with her white hair falling round her face.

"I see by your looks you don't care to call, but I shall," said Maggie; and, bounding from her saddle, she ran up to Hagar, pressing her hand and whispering that it would soon be time to hear from Henry.

"Kissed her, I do believe!" said Anna Jeffrey. "She must have admirable taste!"

Mr. Carrollton said nothing, but with a half-comical, half-displeased expression he watched the interview between that weird old woman and the fair young girl, little suspecting how nearly they were allied.

"Why didn't you come and speak to her?" said Maggie, as he alighted to a.s.sist her in again mounting Gritty. "She used to see you in England, when you were a baby, and if you won't be angry I'll tell you what she said. It was that you were the crossest, ugliest young one she ever saw! There, there; don't set me down so hard!" and the saucy eyes looked mischievously at the proud Englishman, who, truth to say, did place her in the saddle with a little more force than was at all necessary.

Not that he was angry. He was only annoyed at what he considered Maggie's undue familiarity with a person like Hagar, but he wisely forbore making any comments in Anna Jeffrey's presence, except, indeed, to laugh heartily at Hagar's complimentary description of himself when a baby. Arrived at home, and alone again with Maggie, he found her so very good-natured and agreeable that he could not chide her for anything, and Hagar was for a time forgotten.

That evening, as the reader knows, they went together to the depot, where they waited four long hours, but not impatiently; for sitting there in the moonlight, with the winding Chicopee full in view, and Margaret Miller at his side, Arthur Carrollton forgot the lapse of time, especially when Maggie, thinking it no harm, gave a most ludicrous description of her call upon Mrs. Douglas, senior, and of her grandmother's distress at finding herself so nearly connected with what she termed "a low, vulgar family."

Arthur Carrollton was very proud, and had Theo been his sister he might to some extent have shared in Madam Conway's chagrin; and so he said to Maggie, at the same time fully agreeing with her that George Douglas was a refined, agreeable man, and as such ent.i.tled to respect.

Still, had Theo known of his parentage, he said, it would probably have made some difference; but now that it could not be helped it was wise to make the best of it.

These words were little heeded then by Maggie, but with most painful distinctness they recurred to her in the after time, when, humbled in the very dust, she had no hope that the highborn, haughty Carrollton would stoop to a child of Hagar Warren! But no shadow of the dark future was over her now, and very eagerly she drank in every word and look of Arthur Carrollton, who, all unconsciously, was trampling on another's rights and gradually weakening the fancied love she bore for Henry Warner.

The arrival of the train brought their pleasant conversation to a close, and for a day or two Maggie's time was wholly occupied with her grandmother, to whom she frankly acknowledged having told Mr.

Carrollton of Mrs. Douglas and her daughter Betsy Jane. The fact that he knew of her disgrace and did not despise her was of great benefit to Madam Conway, and after a few days she resumed her usual spirits, and actually told of the remarks made by Mrs. Douglas concerning herself and the "fight" she had been in! As time pa.s.sed on she became reconciled to the Douglases, having, as she thought, some well-founded reasons for believing that for Theo's disgrace Maggie would make amends by marrying Mr. Carrollton, whose attentions each day became more and more marked, and were not apparently altogether disagreeable to Maggie. On the contrary, his presence at Hillsdale was productive of much pleasure to her, as well as a little annoyance.