Family Pride; Or, Purified by Suffering. Mary Jane Holmes

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СКАЧАТЬ not unlikely that he might be there now, laughing to himself as he pictured Juno's horror, could she see him driving along in the corn-colored vehicle which Uncle Ephraim drove. But that vehicle was safe at home beneath the shed, while Uncle Ephraim was laying a stone wall upon the huckleberry hill, and the handsome carriage waiting at Silverton depot was certainly unexceptionable; while in the young man who, as the train stopped and Wilford stepped out upon the platform, came to meet him, bowing politely, and asking if he were Mr. Cameron, Wilford recognized the true gentleman, and his spirits arose as Morris said to him: "I am Miss Lennox's cousin, deputed by her to meet and take charge of you for a time."

      Wilford had heard of Dr. Morris Grant, for his name was often on Jamie's lips, while his proud Sister Juno, he suspected, had tried her powers of fascination in vain upon the grave American, met in the saloons of Paris; but he had no suspicion that his new acquaintance was the one until they were driving toward the farmhouse and Morris mentioned having met his family in France, inquiring after them all, and especially for Jamie. Involuntarily then Wilford grasped again the hand of Morris Grant, exclaiming: "And are you the doctor who was so kind to Jamie? I did not expect this pleasure?"

      After that the ride seemed very short, and Wilford was surprised when as they turned a corner in the sandy road, Morris pointed to the farmhouse, saying: "We are almost there—that is the place."

      "That!" and Wilford's voice indicated his disappointment, for in all his mental pictures of Katy Lennox's home he had never imagined anything like this:

      Large, rambling and weird-like, with something lofty and imposing, just because it was so ancient, was the house he had in his mind, and he could not conceal his chagrin as his eye took in the small, low building, with its high windows and tiny panes of glass, paintless and blindless, standing there alone among the hills, Morris understood it perfectly; but, without seeming to notice it, remarked: "It is the oldest house probably in the country, and should be invaluable on that account. I think we Americans are too fond of change and too much inclined to throw aside all that reminds us of the past. Now I like the farmhouse just because it is old and unpretentious."

      "Yes, certainly," Wilford answered, looking ruefully around him at the old stone wall, half tumbled down, the tall well-sweep, and the patch of sunflowers in the garden, with Aunt Betsy bending behind them, picking tomatoes for dinner, and shading her eyes with her hand to look at him as he drove up.

      It was all very rural, no doubt, and very charming to people who liked it, but Wilford did not like it, and he was wishing himself safely in New York when a golden head flashed for an instant before the window and then disappeared as Katy emerged into view, waiting at the door to receive him and looking so sweetly in her dress of white with the scarlet geranium blossoms in her hair, that Wilford forgot the homeliness of her surroundings, thinking only of her and how soft and warm was the little hand he held as she led him into the parlor. He did not know she was so beautiful, he said to himself, and he feasted his eyes upon her, forgetful for a time of all else. But afterward when Katy left him for a moment he noticed the well-worn carpet, the six cane-seated chairs, the large stuffed rocking chair, the fall-leaf table, with its plain wool spread, and, lastly, the really expensive piano, the only handsome piece of furniture the room contained, and which he rightly guessed must have come from Morris.

      "What would Juno or Mark say?" he kept repeating to himself, half shuddering as he recalled the bantering proposition to accompany him made by Mark Ray, the only young man whom he considered fully his equal in New York.

      Wilford knew these feelings were unworthy of him and he tried to shake them off, listlessly turning over the books upon the table, books which betokened in some one both taste and talent of no low order.

      "Mark's favorite," he said, lifting up a volume of Schiller, and turning to the fly-leaf he read, "Helen Lennox, from Cousin Morris," just as Katy returned and with her Helen, whom she presented to the stranger.

      Helen was prepared to like him just because Katy did, and her first thought was that he was splendid-looking, but when she met fully his cold glance and knew how closely he was scrutinizing her, there arose in her heart a feeling of dislike for Wilford Cameron, which she could never wholly conquer. He was very polite to her, but something in his manner annoyed and provoked her, it was so cool, so condescending, as if he endured her merely because she was Katy's sister, nothing more.

      "Rather pretty, more character than Katy, but odd, and self-willed, with no kind of style."

      This was Wilford's running comment on Helen as he took her in from the plain arrangement of her dark hair to the fit of her French calico and the cut of her linen Collar.

      Fashionable dress would improve her very much, he thought, turning from her with a feeling of relief to Katy, whom nothing could disfigure, and who was now watching the door eagerly for the entrance of her mother. That lady had spent a good deal of time at her toilet, and she came in at last, flurried, fidgety, and very red, both from exercise and the bright-hued ribbons streaming from her cap and sadly at variance with the color of her dress. Wilford noticed the discrepancy at once, and noticed too how little style there was about the nervous woman greeting him so deferentially and evidently regarding him as something infinitely superior to herself. Wilford had looked with indifference upon Helen, but it would take a stronger word to express his opinion of the mother. Had he come accidentally upon her without ever having met with Katy, he would have regarded her as a plain, common country woman, who meant well if nothing more; but now, alas! with Katy in the foreground, he was weighing her in a far different balance and finding her sadly wanting. He had not seen Aunt Hannah, nor yet Aunt Betsy, for they were in the kitchen, making the last preparations for the dinner to which Morris was to remain. He was in the parlor now and in his presence Wilford felt more at ease, more as if he had found an affinity. Uncle Ephraim was not there, having eaten his bowl of milk and gone back to his stone wall, so that upon Morris devolved the duties of host, and he courteously led the way to the little dining-room, which Wilford confessed was not uninviting, with its clean floor and walls, and the table so loaded with the good things Aunt Hannah had prepared, burning and browning her wrinkled face, which nevertheless smiled pleasantly upon the stranger presented as Mr. Cameron.

      About Aunt Hannah there was something naturally ladylike, and Wilford saw it; but when it came to Aunt Betsy, of whom he had never heard, he felt for a moment as if by being there in such promiscuous company he had somehow fallen from the Cameron's high estate. By way of pleasing the girls and doing honor to their "beau," as she called Wilford, Aunt Betsy had donned her very best attire, wearing the slate-colored pongee dress, bought twenty years before, and actually sporting a set of Helen's cast off hoops, which being quite too large for the dimensions of her scanty skirt, gave her anything but the stylish appearance she intended.

      "Oh, auntie!" was Katy's involuntary exclamation, while Helen bit her lip with vexation, for the hoop had been an after thought to Aunt Betsy just before going in to dinner.

      But the good old lady never dreamed of shocking any one with her attempts at fashion; and curtseying very low to Mr. Cameron, she hoped for a better acquaintance, and then took her seat at the table, just where each movement could be distinctly seen by Wilford, scanning her so intently as scarcely to hear the reverent words with which Morris asked a blessing upon themselves and the food so abundantly prepared. They could hardly have gotten through that first dinner without Morris, who adroitly tried to divert Wilford's mind from what was passing around him. But with all his vigilance he could not prevent his hearing Aunt Betsy as, in an aside to Helen, she denounced the heavy fork she was awkwardly trying to use, first expressing her surprise at finding it by her plate instead of the smaller one to which she was accustomed.

      "The land! if you didn't borry Morris' forks! I'd as soon eat with the toastin' iron," she said, in a tone of distress, but Helen's foot touching hers warned her to keep silence, which she did after that, and the dinner proceeded quietly, Wilford discovering ere its close СКАЧАТЬ