Maggie Miller Part 6

Accordingly, on the last day of June he started for Hillsdale, where he intended to remain until after the Fourth. To find the old house was an easy matter, for almost everyone in town was familiar with its locality, and towards the close of the afternoon he found himself upon its broad steps applying vigorous strokes to the ponderous bra.s.s knocker, and half hoping the summons would be answered by Maggie herself. But it was not, and in the bent, white-haired woman who came with measured footsteps we recognize old Hagar, who spent much of her time at the house, and who came to the door in compliance with the request of the young ladies, both of whom, from an upper window, were curiously watching the stranger.

"Just the old witch one would expect to find in this out-of-the-way place," thought Mr. Douglas, while at the same time he asked if that were Madam Conway's residence, and if a young man by the name of Warner were staying there.

"Another city beau!" muttered Hagar, as she answered in the affirmative, and ushered him into the parlor. "Another city beau--there'll be high carryings-on now, if he's anything like the other one, who's come mighty nigh turning the house upside down."

"What did you say?" asked George Douglas, catching the sound of her muttering, and thinking she was addressing himself.

"I wasn't speaking to you. I was talking to a likelier person,"

answered old Hagar in an undertone, as she shuffled away in quest of Henry Warner, who by this time was able to walk with the help of a cane.

The meeting between the young men was a joyful one, for though George Douglas was a little sore on the subject of Rose, he would not suffer a matter like that to come between him and Henry Warner, whom he had known and liked from boyhood. Henry's first inquiries were naturally of a business character, and then George Douglas spoke of the young ladies, saying he was only anxious to see Maggie, for he knew of course he should dislike the other.

Such, however, is wayward human nature that the fair, pale face, and quiet, dignified manner of Theo Miller had greater attractions for a person of George Douglas' peculiar temperament than had the dashing, brilliant Maggie. There was a resemblance, he imagined, between Theo and Rose, and this of itself was sufficient to attract him towards her. Theo, too, was equally pleased; and when, that evening, Madam Jeffrey faintly interposed her fast-departing authority, telling her quondam pupils it was time they were asleep, Theo did not, as usual, heed the warning, but sat very still beneath the vine-wreathed portico, listening while George Douglas told her of the world which she had never seen. She was not proud towards him, for he possessed the charm of money, and as he looked down upon her, conversing with him so familiarly, he wondered how Henry could have called her cold and haughty--she was merely dignified, high-bred, he thought; and George Douglas liked anything which savored of aristocracy.

Meanwhile Henry and Maggie had wandered to a little summer-house, where, with the bright moonlight falling upon them, they sat together, but not exactly as of old, for Maggie did not now look up into his face as she was wont to do, and if she thought his eye was resting upon her she moved uneasily, while the rich blood deepened on her cheek. A change has come over Maggie Miller; it is the old story, too--old to hundreds of thousands, but new to her, the blushing maiden. Theo calls her nervous--Mrs. Jeffrey calls her sick--the servants call her mighty queer--while old Hagar, hovering ever near, and watching her with a jealous eye, knows she is in love.

Faithfully and well had Hagar studied Henry Warner, to see if there were aught in him of evil; and though he was not what she would have chosen for the queenly Maggie she was satisfied if Margaret loved him and he loved Margaret. But did he? He had never told her so; and in Hagar Warren's wild black eyes there was a savage gleam, as she thought, "He'll rue the day that he dares trifle with Maggie Miller."

But Henry Warner was not trifling with her. He was only waiting a favorable opportunity for telling her the story of his love; and now, as they sit together in the moonlight, with the musical flow of the mill-stream falling on his ear, he essays to speak--to tell how she has grown into his heart; to ask her to go with him where he goes; to make his home her home, and so be with him always; but ere the first word was uttered Maggie asked if Mr. Douglas had brought the picture of his sister.

"Why, yes," he answered; "I had forgotten it entirely. Here it is;"

and taking it from his pocket he pa.s.sed it to her.

It was a face of almost ethereal loveliness that through the moonlight looked up to Maggie Miller, and again she experienced the same undefinable emotion, a mysterious, invisible something drawing her towards the original of the beautiful likeness.

"It is strange how thoughts of Rose always affect me," she said, gazing earnestly upon the large eyes of blue shadowed forth upon the picture. "It seems as though she must be nearer to me than an unknown friend."

"Seems she like a sister?" asked Henry Warner, coming so near that Maggie felt his warm breath upon her cheek.

"Yes, yes, that's it," she answered, with something of her olden frankness. "And had I somewhere in the world an unknown sister I should say it was Rose Warner!"

There were a few low, whispered words, and when the full moon, which for a time had hidden itself behind the clouds, again shone forth in all its glory, Henry had asked Maggie Miller to be the sister of Rose Warner, and Maggie had answered "Yes"!

That night in Maggie's dreams there was a strange commingling of thoughts. Thoughts of Henry Warner, as he told her of his love--thoughts of the gentle girl whose eyes of blue had looked so lovingly up to her, as if between them there was indeed a common bond of sympathy--and, stranger far than all, thoughts of the little grave beneath the pine where slept the so-called child of Hester Hamilton--the child defrauded of its birthright, and who, in the misty vagaries of dreamland, seemed to stand between her and the beautiful Rose Warner!

CHAPTER VIII.

STARS AND STRIPES.

On the rude bench by her cabin door sat Hagar Warren, her black eyes peering out into the woods and her quick ear turned to catch the first sound of bounding footsteps, which came at last, and Maggie Miller was sitting by her side.

"What is it, darling?" Hagar asked, and her shriveled hand smoothed caressingly the silken hair, as she looked into the glowing face of the young girl, and half guessed what was written there.

To Theo Maggie had whispered the words, "I am engaged," and Theo had coldly answered: "Pshaw! Grandma will quickly break that up. Why, Henry Warner is comparatively poor! Mr. Douglas told me so, or rather I quizzed him until I found it out. He says, though, that Henry has rare business talents, and he could not do without him."

To the latter part of Theo's remark Maggie paid little heed; but the mention of her grandmother troubled her. She would oppose it, Maggie was sure of that, and it was to talk on this very subject that she had come to Hagar's cottage.

"Just the way I s'posed it would end," said Hagar, when Maggie, with blushing, half-averted face, told the story of her engagement. "Just the way I s'posed 'twould end, but I didn't think 'twould be so quick."

"Two months and a half is a great while, and then we have been together so much," replied Maggie, at the same time asking if Hagar did not approve her choice.

"Henry Warner's well enough," answered Hagar. "I've watched him close and see no evil in him; but he isn't the one for you, nor are you the one for him. You are both too wild, too full of fun, and if yoked together will go to destruction, I know. You need somebody to hold you back, and so does he."

Involuntarily Maggie thought of Rose, mentally resolving to be, if possible, more like her.

"You are not angry with me?" said Hagar, observing Maggie's silence.

"You asked my opinion, and I gave it to you. You are too young to know who you like. Henry Warner is the first man you ever knew, and in two years' time you'll tire of him."

"Tire of him, Hagar? Tire of Henry Warner?" cried Maggie a little indignantly. "You do not know me, if you think I'll ever tire of him; and then, too, did I tell you grandma keeps writing to me about a Mr.

Carrollton, who she says is wealthy, fine-looking, highly educated, and very aristocratic--and that last makes me hate him! I've heard so much about aristocracy that I'm sick of it, and just for that reason I would not have this Mr. Carrollton if I knew he'd make me queen of England. But grandma's heart is set upon it, I know, and she thinks of course he would marry me--says he is delighted with my daguerreotype--that awful one, too, with the staring eyes. In grandma's last letter he sent me a note. 'Twas beautifully written, and I dare say he is a fine young man, at least he talks common sense, but I shan't answer it; and, if you'll believe me, I used part of it in lighting Henry's cigar, and with the rest I shall light firecrackers on the Fourth of July; Henry has bought a lot of them, and we're going to have fun. How grandma would scold!--but I shall marry Henry Warner, anyway. Do you think she will oppose me, when she sees how determined I am?"

"Of course she will," answered Hagar. "I know those Carrolltons--they are a haughty race; and if your grandmother has one of them in view she'll turn you from her door sooner than see you married to another, and an American, too."

There was a moment's silence, and then, with an unnatural gleam in her eye, old Hagar turned towards Maggie, and, grasping her shoulder, said: "If she does this thing, Maggie Miller,--if she casts you off,--will you take me for your grandmother? Will you let me live with you? I'll be your drudge, your slave; say, Maggie, may I go with you?

Will you call me grandmother? I'd willingly die if only once I could hear you speak to me thus, and know it was in love."

For a moment Maggie looked at her in astonishment; then thinking to herself, "She surely is half-crazed," she answered laughingly: "Yes, Hagar, if grandma casts me off, you may go with me. I shall need your care, but I can't promise to call you grandma, because you know you are not."

The corners of Hagar's mouth worked nervously, but her teeth shut firmly over the thin, white lip, forcing back the wild words trembling there, and the secret was not told.

"Go home, Maggie Miller," she said at last, rising slowly to her feet.

"Go home now, and leave me alone. I am willing you should marry Henry Warner--nay, I wish you to do it; but you must remember your promise."

Maggie was about to answer, when her thoughts were directed to another channel by the sight of George Douglas and Theo coming slowly down the shaded pathway which led past Hagar's door. Old Hagar saw them too, and, whispering to Maggie, said, "There's another marriage brewing, or the signs do not tell true, and madam will sanction this one, too, for there's money there, and gold can purify any blood."

Ere Maggie could reply Theo called out, "You here, Maggie, as usual?"

adding, aside, to her companion: "She has the most unaccountable taste, so different from me, who cannot endure anything low and vulgar. Can you? But I need not ask," she continued, "for your a.s.sociations have been of a refined nature."

George Douglas did not answer, for his thoughts were back in the brown farmhouse at the foot of the hill, where his boyhood was pa.s.sed, and he wondered what the high-bred lady at his side would say if she could see the sunburned man and plain, old-fashioned woman who called him their son George Washington. He would not confess that he was ashamed of his parentage, for he tried to be a kind and dutiful child, but he would a little rather that Theo Miller should not know how democratic had been his early training. So he made no answer, but, addressing himself to Maggie, asked how she could find it in her heart to leave her patient so long.

"I'm going back directly," she said, and donning her hat she started for home, thinking she had gained but little satisfaction from Hagar, who, as Douglas and Theo pa.s.sed on, resumed her seat by the door, and, listening to the sound of Margaret's retreating footsteps, muttered: "The old light-heartedness is gone. There are shadows gathering round her; for once in love, she'll never be as free and joyous again. But it can't be helped; it's the destiny of women, and I only hope this Warner is worthy of her. But he aint. He's too wild--too full of what Hagar Warren calls bedevilment. And Maggie does everything he tells her to do. Not content with tearing down his bed-curtains, which have hung there full twenty years, she's set things all cornerwise, because the folks do so in Worcester, and has turned the parlor into a smoking-room, till all the air of Hillsdale can't take away that tobacco scent. Why, it almost knocks me down!" and the old lady groaned aloud, as she recounted to herself the recent innovations upon the time-honored habits of her mistress' house.

Henry Warner was, indeed, rather a fast young man, but it needed the suggestive presence of George Douglas to bring out his true character; and for the four days succeeding the arrival of the latter there were rare doings at the old stone house, where the astonished and rather delighted servants looked on in amazement while the young men sang their jovial songs and drank of the rare old wine which Maggie, utterly fearless of what her grandmother might say, brought from the cellar below. But when, on the morning of the Fourth, Henry Warner suggested that they have a celebration, or at least hang out the American flag by way of showing their patriotism, there were signs of rebellion in the kitchen, while even Mrs. Jeffrey, who had long since ceased to interfere, felt it her duty to remonstrate. Accordingly, she descended to the parlor, where she found George Douglas and Maggie dancing to the tune of "Yankee Doodle," which Theo played upon the piano, while Henry Warner whistled a most stirring accompaniment! To be heard above that din was impossible, and involuntarily patting her own slippered foot to the lively strain the distressed little lady went back to her room, wondering what Madam Conway would say if she knew how her house was being desecrated.

But Madam Conway did not know. She was three thousand miles away, and with this distance between them Maggie dared do anything; so when the flag was again mentioned, she answered apologetically, as if it were something of which they ought to be ashamed: "We never had any, but we can soon make one, I know. 'Twill be fun to see it float from the housetop!" and, flying up the stairs to the dusty garret, she drew from a huge oaken chest a scarlet coat which had belonged to the former owner of the place, who little thought, as he sat in state, that his favorite coat would one day furnish material for the emblem of American freedom!

No such thought as this, however, obtruded itself upon Maggie as she bent over the chest. "The coat is of no use," she said, and gathering it up she ran back to the parlor, where, throwing it across Henry's lap, she told how it had belonged to her great-great-grandfather, who at the time of the Revolution went home to England. The young men exchanged a meaning look, and then burst into a laugh, but the cause of their merriment they did not explain, lest the prejudices of the girls should be aroused.

"This is just the thing," said Henry, entering heart and soul into the spirit of the fun. "This is grand. Can't you find some blue for the groundwork of the stars?"

Maggie thought a moment, and then exclaimed: "Oh, yes--I have it; grandma has a blue satin bodice which she wore when she was a young lady. She once gave me a part of the back for my doll's dress. She won't care if I cut up the rest for a banner."

"Of course not," answered George Douglas. "She'll be glad to have it used for such a laudable purpose," and walking to the window he laughed heartily as he saw in fancy the wrath of the proud Englishwoman when she learned the use to which her satin bodice had been appropriated.