Hilda's Mascot Part 26

He tried to arouse himself from what he considered unmanly weakness, but without avail. He went from his home each morning disconsolate, and returned to it despairing. Had it not been for the efficient management of Mrs. Flynn within doors and Sandy MacQuoid without, home life would have been at low ebb. But these faithful servitors, without appearing to notice the changed manner of their once cheerful employer, attended to their allotted duties, enjoyed each other's society, fed the terrier and the parrot, entertained the Courtney boys and Ralph and James Rivers, and Norah and Archie, to the best of their ability, when they gave "My Lady's Manor" the pleasure of their company.

The first gleam of comfort which Mr. Courtney received lay in the knowledge of Paul Warfield's engagement. Each succeeding letter of Hilda's spoke of Fred, dwelt much upon him, but for months it did not occur to Mr. Courtney to fear a rival in him. Hilda was so unrestrained in speaking of him, even making merry over his love affairs, more as an older sister would jest of a young brother or some other jolly companion than a maiden of a lover. Then came a time when Fred's name dropped from her letters, and a grave maturity came into them, unnoticed by any reader save Mr. Courtney; and then it dawned upon him that he had indeed a rival. His heart ached with its burden of unrest; his home had grown into a prison; he felt that he must leave it and seek change from the thoughts which oppressed him; he resolved to close "My Lady's Manor" and pa.s.s at least a year in travel. Ralph and James Rivers could attend to the law business, and if it suffered financial loss in their hands it was of but little moment to one of Mr. Courtney's wealth and disposition.

One evening after coming to this decision, he sat alone in his library.

It was cool for the season and Chloe had made a glowing fire upon the hearth before which he sat, lost in thought.

Rich curtains hung in heavy folds over the windows, the glow of an astral lamp on the table beside him gave light for reading, but books had lost their charm. Pictures with sunny Italian skies, of Alpine peaks, of arctic snows, of fair English landscapes, lined the walls.

Comfort and beauty was on every hand, but they brought him no happiness.

Chloe came with a letter upon a silver waiter, presented it and quietly withdrew. And Mr. Courtney, with a presentiment of further unrest in store for him, opened it and read to the end. It was from Hilda to Mrs.

Merryman, and as Mr. Courtney finished it he contrasted his feelings with those of light-headed, light-hearted Mose, who had brought it, and whose boyish laughter was heard from the kitchen where he was recounting to Chloe some of the adventures in which he was, as usual, the hero.

There was no mention of Fred throughout the letter, but a postscript was added which thrilled his heart with pain.

"Dear Aunt Grace," it said, "I feel that it would not be right not to tell you, my dear second mother, that Cousin Fred has asked me to be his wife and I have accepted him. Aunt Sarah says it is what she has hoped for, and in this way Aunt Ashley's prayer will be answered."

Mr. Courtney knew the trial it had been to Hilda to write this. He was glad at the prospect of happiness for her in her future home, but he groaned in spirit at the thought of his own loneliness. How was he to pa.s.s the years of life allotted to him? After a time he rang the bell and Sandy appeared.

"I wish to have a few minutes conversation with you, Sandy," he said, as his stately Scotch servitor stood respectfully beside his chair. "Take a seat."

Sandy obeyed, his well-trained countenance showing no surprise.

"When I employed you," said Mr. Courtney, "I did not foresee that I would wish to leave 'My Lady's Manor.' Circ.u.mstances have made it necessary that I should seek change. I have sent for you to tell you this, and to express my hope that this sudden resolve may not inconvenience you. I shall advance you three months' salary for any disappointment it may be to you, and will do the same by Mrs. Flynn when I speak to her, which will be this evening. Chloe can go back to her old home at 'Friedenheim.'"

"Excuse me, sir, for asking, but do you expect to return here sometime?"

"I may, Sandy; I cannot say."

"I do not wish to pry into your affairs, sir, but do you intend renting this place?"

"No, it will be closed for the time I am absent."

"You have encouraged me, sir, to make free to tell you my plan," said Sandy, gravely. "Perhaps you will do us a greater favor than to advance three months' salary."

"Us?" echoed Mr. Courtney, looking up in surprise.

"Yes, sir; Mrs. Flynn and myself are intending to marry."

Mr. Courtney smiled almost cheerfully.

"That is news indeed, Sandy, and very agreeable news," he said. "She will make you a good wife."

"And she will have a good husband," responded Sandy.

"You are right. What do you propose as to housekeeping?"

"I am not sure as yet, sir. We had intended, if you were willing, to remain here with you in the same positions we now occupy. We know that we could find no better home than this. Now that you are going away, no coachman or housekeeper will be needed by you, but perhaps you will let us stay and take care of 'My Lady's Manor' while you are away."

"I will be more than willing; it will relieve me of a great care,"

replied Mr. Courtney cordially.

"If there is nothing in Dorton for me to do, I can, I think, get some employment in the neighborhood," continued Sandy, reflectively.

"I am not anxious to dispose of the horses, Sandy. If you can get any employment in which you can make use of them, you are more than welcome to them until my return."

"Thank you, sir! I am sure I can, and am more grateful than I can say for your kindness."

"It will not be necessary now for me to speak to Mrs. Flynn. You have taken that out of my hands," smiled Mr. Courtney. "I wish you every happiness in your married life."

"Thank you, sir, we will try to deserve it."

The next evening in the presence of the Courtneys, Mrs. Merryman, the delighted Norah, and a few of the villagers, the Rev. Carl Courtney performed the ceremony which made Mrs. Flynn Mrs. Sandy MacQuoid, much to the astonishment of Roy and Cecil, who had never suspected any love-making between the dignified Mrs. Flynn and the more dignified Sandy.

As nothing remained to prevent, the following week saw Mr. Valentine Courtney upon the Atlantic, bound for he knew not and cared not where.

CHAPTER XII-JERUSHA FLINT AND HILDA

One favor stipulated by Fred, after his engagement to Hilda, was that she should answer his letters promptly when anything prevented his weekly visit to the farmhouse, and she promised.

At the commencement of this correspondence Fred ignored the t.i.tle "cousin" in inditing and ending his epistles, and subst.i.tuted "My Dearest Hilda," or "My Beloved Hilda," as the fancy of the moment dictated, and signed them "Your Devoted Fred." Her answering missives were guided by his letters, modified, however, by maidenly reserve, but at his request she ceased to address him as "cousin."

As the winter wore on, snows and rains and like excuses were utilized by Fred as preventing his weekly visits; and after the spring came and merged into summer he made only fortnightly visits to the farmhouse, as was his custom before Hilda became a member of the home circle. His letters, however, came punctually and gave lively details of the social festivities in Springfield society. "Dear Hilda" appeared to be a sufficiently affectionate appellation in inditing these missives, and before the autumn came "Cousin Hilda" seemed to satisfy his surely waning affection.

A silent, but none the less attentive observer of all this was Mrs.

Warfield, although she never saw or asked to see a line of the correspondence. But after Hilda's reception of a letter from Fred she failed to see the glow of pleasure which had illuminated the sweet face in the early days of the engagement; instead, a wounded, unsatisfied expression sat upon the sad lips and tried to hide itself in the depths of the pensive eyes.

One morning Hilda received her usual letter from Mrs. Merryman and one from Fred, brought from the village post-office by Ben Duvall. She hurried to her room to read them. Mrs. Warfield, who had gone to her own room adjoining, heard her ascend the stairs, enter her room and close the door, and expected after time was given her to peruse them to hear her gentle tap upon her door Mrs. Merryman's letter in hand to read aloud, as was her custom. All remained silent for such a length of time that Mrs. Warfield had almost concluded that her eyes had deceived her, and Hilda had not received letters, when she heard her foot-steps pause at the door.

"Come in, darling, I am here," she called, and Hilda came in slowly with Mrs. Merryman's letter open in her hand. A bright spot burned on either cheek, but it was evidently not caused by pleasure. There was a look of having shed tears, and when she took a low chair near Mrs. Warfield and read the letter her voice trembled, although she made an effort to steady it.

Mrs. Merryman's letter was long and interesting. Her former letters had informed Hilda of the absence of Mr. Valentine Courtney. This one mentioned the place of his sojourn in the old world as heard through Mrs. Courtney. It gave details of all the little happenings in Dorton and in its neighborhood, and of affairs at "My Lady's Manor" under the management of Mrs. MacQuoid, as reported by Norah, and closed with the intelligence of the illness of Jerusha Flint.

Mrs. Warfield listened attentively to the letter from beginning to end, and thanked Hilda for giving her the pleasure of hearing it; at the same time she heard nothing to warrant the subdued excitement of the reader.

She was quite sure that it was not the illness of Miss Flint or Hilda would have made allusion to it. Moreover, her manner appeared to take more of anger than grief, and Mrs. Warfield felt a.s.sured in consequence that a letter had been received from Fred, and it was responsible for that anger.

As soon as Hilda finished she arose and returned to her own room.

"Aunt Sarah," she said a few minutes later, "do you wish anything from the village? I am going to the post-office."

"No, dear, I do not know of anything needed."

Hilda went to her room to put on her wraps, and Mrs. Warfield, after a moment's reflection, laid aside her sewing and followed.

"My dear," she said, as Hilda opened the door for her, "if you are writing to Fred, I hope you will be careful what you write. He is very careless of his letters, and other eyes may see what you only intend for his. I do not seek to question into what should perhaps not concern me, but you appear a little different from your usual manner and I only wish to warn you."