Rosalind at Red Gate Part 40

As we cleared Battle Orchard and sped on toward Glenarm there was a sting in the wind, and Lake Annandale had fretted itself into foam. We saw the _Stiletto_ running prettily before the wind along the Glenarm sh.o.r.e, and I stopped the engine before crossing her wake and let the launch jump the waves. Helen would not, I hoped, believe me capable of attempting to palm off Rosalind on Miss Pat; and I had no wish to undeceive her. My pa.s.senger had wrapped herself in my mackintosh and taken my cap, so that at the distance at which we pa.s.sed she was not recognizable.

Sister Margaret was waiting for us at the Glenarm pier. I had been a little afraid of Sister Margaret. It was presuming a good deal to take her into the conspiracy, and I stood by in apprehension while she scrutinized Rosalind. She was clearly bewildered and drew close to the girl, as Rosalind threw off the wet mackintosh and flung down the dripping cap.

"Will she do, Sister Margaret?"

"I believe she will; I really believe she will!" And the Sister's face brightened with relief. She had a color in her face that I had not seen before, as the joy of the situation took hold of her. She was, I realized, a woman after all, and a young woman at that, with a heart not hardened against life's daily adventures.

"It is time for luncheon. Miss Pat expects you, too."

"Then I must leave you to instruct Miss Holbrook and carry off the first meeting. Miss Holbrook has been--"

"--For a long walk"--the Sister supplied--"and will enter St. Agatha's parlor a little tired from her tramp. She shall go at once to her room--with me. I have put out a white gown for her; and at luncheon we will talk only of safe things."

"And I shall have this bouquet of sweet peas," added Rosalind, "that I brought from a farmer's garden near by, as an offering for Aunt Pat's birthday. And you will both be there to keep me from making mistakes."

"Then after luncheon we shall drive until Miss Pat's birthday dinner; and the dinner shall be on the terrace at Glenarm, which is even now being decorated for a fete occasion. And before the night is old Helen shall be back. Good luck attend us all!" I said; and we parted in the best of spirits.

I had forgotten Gillespie, and was surprised to find him at the table in my room, absorbed in business papers.

"'b.u.t.ton, b.u.t.ton, who's got the b.u.t.ton!'" he chanted as he looked me over. "You appear to have been swimming in your clothes. I had my mail sent out here. I've got to shut down the factory at Ponsocket.

The thought of it bores me extravagantly. What time's luncheon?"

"Whenever you ring three times. I'm lunching out."

"Ladies?" he asked, raising his brows. "You appear to be a little social favorite; couldn't you get me in on something? How about dinner?"

"I am myself entertaining at dinner; and your name isn't on the list, I'm sorry to say, b.u.t.tons. But to-morrow! Everything will be possible to-morrow. I expect Miss Pat and Helen here to-night. It's Miss Pat's birthday, and I want to make it a happy day for her. She's going to settle with Henry as soon as some preliminaries are arranged, so the war's nearly over."

"She can't settle with him until something definite is known about Arthur. If he's really dead--"

"I've promised to settle that; but I must hurry now. Will you meet me at the Glenarm boat-house at eight? If I'm not there; wait. I shall have something for you to do."

"Meanwhile I'm turned out of your house, am I? But I positively decline to go until I'm fed."

As I got into a fresh coat he played a lively tune on the electric bell, and I left him giving his orders to the butler.

I was rea.s.sured by the sound of voices as I pa.s.sed under the windows of St. Agatha's, and Sister Margaret met me in the hall with a smiling face.

"Luncheon waits. We will go out at once. Everything has pa.s.sed off smoothly, perfectly."

I did not dare look at Rosalind until we were seated in the dining-room. Her sweet peas graced the center of the round table, and Sister Margaret had placed them in a tall vase so that Rosalind was well screened from her aunt's direct gaze. The Sister had managed admirably. Rosalind's hair was swept up in exactly Helen's pompadour; and in one of Helen's white gowns, with Helen's own particular shade of scarlet ribbon at her throat and waist, the resemblance was even more complete than I had thought it before. But we were cast at once upon deep waters.

"Helen, where did you find that article on Charles Lamb you read the other evening? I have looked for it everywhere."

Rosalind took rather more time than was necessary to help herself to the asparagus, and my heart sank; but Sister Margaret promptly saved the day.

"It was in the _Round World_. That article we were reading on The Authors.h.i.+p of the Collects is in the same number."

"Yes; of course," said Rosalind, turning to me.

Art seemed a safe topic; and I steered for the open, and spoke in a large way, out of my ignorance, of Michelangelo's influence, winding up presently with a suggestion that Miss Pat should have her portrait painted. This was a successful stroke, for we all fell into a discussion of contemporaneous portrait painters about whom Sister Margaret fortunately knew something; but a cold chill went down my back a moment later when Miss Pat turned upon Rosalind and asked her a direct question:

"Helen, what was the name of the artist who did that miniature of your mother?"

Sister Margaret swallowed a gla.s.s of water, and I stooped to pick up my napkin.

"Van Arsdel, wasn't it?" asked Rosalind instantly.

"Yes; so it was," replied Miss Pat. Luck was favoring us, and Rosalind was rising to the emergency splendidly. It appeared afterward that her own mother had been painted by the same artist, and she had boldly risked the guess. Sister Margaret and I were frightened into a discussion of the possibilities of aerial navigation, with a vague notion, I think, of keeping the talk in the air, and it sufficed until we had concluded the simple luncheon. I walked beside Miss Pat to the parlor. The sky had cleared, and I broached a drive at once. I had read in the newspapers that a considerable body of regular troops was pa.s.sing near Annandale on a practice march from Fort Sheridan to a rendezvous somewhere to the south of us.

"Let us go and see the soldiers," I suggested.

"Very well, Larry," she said. "We can make believe they are sent out to do honor to my birthday. You are a thoughtful boy. I can never thank you for all your consideration and kindness. And you will not fail to find Arthur,--I am asking you no questions; I'd rather not know where he is. I'm afraid of truth!" She turned her head away quickly--we were seated by ourselves in a corner of the room. "I am afraid, I am afraid to ask!"

"He is well; quite well. I shall have news of him, to-night."

She glanced across the room to where Rosalind and Sister Margaret talked quietly together. I felt Miss Pat's hand touch mine, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

"I was wrong! I was most unjust in what I said to you of her. She was all tenderness, all gentleness when she came in this morning." She fumbled at her belt and held up a small cl.u.s.ter of the sweet peas that Rosalind had brought from Red Gate.

"I told you so!" I said, trying to laugh off her contrition. "What you said to me is forgotten, Miss Pat."

"And now when everything is settled, if she wants to marry Gillespie, let her do it."

"But she won't! Haven't I told you that Helen shall never marry him?"

I had ordered a buckboard, and it was now announced.

"Don't trouble to go up-stairs, Aunt Pat; I will bring your things for you," said Rosalind; and Miss Pat turned upon me with an air of satisfaction and pride, as much as to say, "You see how devoted she is to me!"

I wish to acknowledge here my obligations to Sister Margaret for giving me the benefit of her care and resourcefulness on that difficult day.

There was no nice detail that she overlooked, no danger that she did not antic.i.p.ate. She sat by Miss Pat on the long drive, while Rosalind and I chattered nonsense behind them. We were so fortunate as to strike the first battalion, and saw it go into camp on a bit of open prairie to await the arrival of the artillery that followed. But at no time did I lose sight of the odd business that still lay ahead of me, nor did I remember with any satisfaction how Helen, somewhere across woodland and lake, chafed at the delayed climax of her plot. The girl at my side, lovely and gracious as she was, struck me increasingly as but a tame shadow of that other one, so like and so unlike! I marveled that Miss Pat had not seen it; and in a period of silence on the drive home I think Rosalind must have guessed my thought; for I caught her regarding me with a mischievous smile and she said, as Miss Pat and Sister Margaret rather too generously sought to ignore us:

"You can see now how different I am--how very different!"

When I left them at St. Agatha's with an hour to spare before dinner, Sister Margaret a.s.sured me with her eyes that there was nothing to fear.

I was nervously pacing the long terrace when I saw my guests approaching. I told the butler to order dinner at once and went down to meet them. Miss Pat declared that she never felt better; and under the excitement of the hour Sister Margaret's eyes glowed brightly.

"Sister Margaret is wonderful!" whispered Rosalind. "Aren't my clothes becoming? She found them and got me into them; and she has kept me away from Aunt Pat and taken me over the hard places wonderfully. I really don't know who I am," she laughed; "but it's quite clear that you have seen the difference. I must play up now and try to be brilliant--like Helen!" she said. "I can tell by the things in Helen's room, that I'm much less sophisticated. I found his photograph, by the way!"

"What!" I cried so abruptly that the others turned and looked at us.

Rosalind laughed in honest glee.

"Mr. Gillespie's photograph. I think I shall keep it. It was upside down in a trunk where Sister Margaret told me I should find these pretty slippers. Do you know, this playing at being somebody else is positively uncanny. But this gown--isn't it fetching?"

"It's pink, isn't it? You said that photograph was face down, didn't you?"

"It was! And at the very bottom under a pair of overshoes."