CHAPTER XIX.
_BEHIND THE FOUNTAIN._
Two days after Christmas, a young man of a serious aspect might havebeen seen entering one of the large churches at L----. Being shown toa seat, he joined in the services with praiseworthy devotion,especially the music, to which he listened with such evident pleasurethat a gentleman who sat near by felt moved to address thisappreciative stranger after church.
"Fine sermon to-day. Ever heard our minister before, sir?" he began,as they went down the aisle together among the last; for the young manhad lingered as if admiring the ancient building.
"Very fine. No, sir, I have never had that pleasure. I've often wishedto see this old place, and am not at all disappointed. Your choir,too, is unusually good," answered the stranger, glancing up at severalbonnets bobbing about behind the half-drawn curtains above.
"Finest in the city, sir. We pride ourselves on our music, and alwayshave the best. People often come for that alone," and the oldgentleman looked as satisfied as if a choir of cherubim and seraphim"continually did cry" in his organ-loft.
"Who is the contralto? That solo was beautifully sung," observed theyounger man, pausing to read a tablet in the wall.
"That is Miss Moore. Been here about a year, and is universallyadmired. Excellent young lady: couldn't do without her. Sings superblyin oratorios. Ever heard her?"
"Never. She came from X----, I believe?"
"Yes; highly recommended. She was brought up by one of the firstfamilies there. Campbell is the name. If you come from X----, youdoubtless know them."
"I have met them. Good morning." And with bows the gentlemen parted;for at that instant the young man caught sight of a tall lady goingdown the church-steps, with a devout expression in her fine eyes, anda prayer-book in her hand.
Hastening after her, the serious-minded young man accosted her just asshe turned into a quiet street.
"Phebe!"
Only a word, but it wrought a marvellous change; for the devoutexpression vanished in the drawing of a breath, and the quiet faceblossomed suddenly with color, warmth, and "the light that never wason sea or land," as she turned to meet her lover, with an answeringword as eloquent as his,--
"Archie!"
"The year is out to-day. I told you I should come. Have youforgotten?"
"No: I knew you'd come."
"And you are glad?"
"How can I help it?"
"You can't: don't try. Come into this little park, and let us talk."And, drawing her hand through his arm, Archie led her into what toother eyes was a very dismal square, with a boarded-up fountain in themiddle, sodden grass-plots, and dead leaves dancing in the wintrywind.
But to them it was a summery Paradise; and they walked to and fro inthe pale sunshine, quite unconscious that they were objects ofinterest to several ladies and gentlemen waiting anxiously for theirdinner, or yawning over the dull books kept for Sunday reading.
"Are you ready to come home now, Phebe?" asked Archie, tenderly, as helooked at the downcast face beside him, and wondered why all women didnot wear delightful little black velvet bonnets, with one deep-redflower against their hair.
"Not yet. I haven't done enough," began Phebe, finding it very hard tokeep the resolution made a year ago.
"You have proved that you can support yourself, make friends, and earna name, if you choose. No one can deny that; and we are all gettingproud of you. What more can you ask, my dearest?"
"I don't quite know, but I am very ambitious. I want to be famous, todo something for you all, to make some sacrifice for Rose, and, if Ican, to have something to give up for your sake. Let me wait and worklonger: I know I haven't earned my welcome yet," pleaded Phebe, soearnestly that her lover knew it would be vain to try and turn her; sowisely contented himself with half, since he could not have the whole.
"Such a proud woman! Yet I love you all the better for it, andunderstand your feeling. Rose made me see how it seems to you; and Idon't wonder that you cannot forget the unkind things that werelooked, if not said, by some of my amiable aunts. I'll try to bepatient on one condition, Phebe."
"And what is that?"
"You are to let me come sometimes while I wait, and wear this lest youshould forget me," he said, pulling a ring from his pocket, and gentlydrawing a warm, bare hand out of the muff where it lay hidden.
"Yes, Archie, but not here,--not now!" cried Phebe, glancing abouther, as if suddenly aware that they were not alone.
"No one can see us here: I thought of that. Give me one happy minute,after this long, long year of waiting," answered Archie, pausing justwhere the fountain hid them from all eyes, for there were houses onlyon one side.
Phebe submitted; and never did a plain gold ring slip more easily toits place than the one he put on in such a hurry that cold Decemberday. Then one hand went back into the muff red with the grasp he gaveit, and the other to its old place on his arm, with a confidinggesture, as if it had a right there.
"Now I feel sure of you," said Archie, as they went on again, and noone the wiser for that tender transaction behind the ugly pyramid ofboards. "Mac wrote me that you were much admired by your churchpeople, and that certain wealthy bachelors evidently had designs onthe retiring Miss Moore. I was horribly jealous, but now I defy everyman of them."
Phebe smiled with the air of proud humility that was so becoming, andanswered briefly,--
"There was no danger: kings could not change me, whether you ever cameor not. But Mac should not have told you."
"You shall be revenged on him, then; for, as he told secrets aboutyou, I'll tell you one about him. Phebe, he loves Rose!" And Archielooked as if he expected to make a great sensation with his news.
"I know it." And Phebe laughed at his sudden change of countenance, ashe added inquiringly,--
"She told you, then?"
"Not a word. I guessed it from her letters: for lately she saysnothing about Mac, and before there was a good deal; so I suspectedwhat the silence meant, and asked no questions."
"Wise girl! then you think she does care for the dear old fellow?"
"Of course she does. Didn't he tell you so?"
"No, he only said when he went away, 'Take care of my Rose, and I'lltake care of your Phebe,' and not another thing could I get out ofhim; for _I_ did ask questions. He stood by me like a hero, and keptAunt Jane from driving me stark mad with her 'advice.' I don't forgetthat, and burned to lend him a hand somewhere; but he begged me to lethim manage his wooing in his own way. And from what I see I should sayhe knew how to do it," added Archie, finding it very delightful togossip about love affairs with his sweetheart.
"Dear little mistress! how does she behave?" asked Phebe, longing fornews, but too grateful to ask at headquarters; remembering howgenerously Rose had tried to help her, even by silence, the greatestsacrifice a woman can make at such interesting periods.
"Very sweet and shy and charming. I try not to watch: but upon my wordI cannot help it sometimes; she is so 'cunning,' as you girls say.When I carry her a letter from Mac she tries so hard not to show howglad she is, that I want to laugh, and tell her I know all about it.But I look as sober as a judge, and as stupid as an owl by daylight;and she enjoys her letter in peace, and thinks I'm so absorbed by myown passion that I'm blind to hers."
"But why did Mac come away? He says lectures brought him, and he goes;but I am sure something else is in his mind, he looks so happy attimes. I don't see him very often, but when I do I'm conscious that heisn't the Mac I left a year ago," said Phebe, leading Archie away: forinexorable propriety forbade a longer stay, even if prudence and dutyhad not given her a reminding nudge; as it was very cold, andafternoon church came in an hour.
"Well, you see Mac was always peculiar, and he cannot even grow uplike other fellows. I don't understand him yet, and am sure he's gotsome plan in his head that no one suspects, unless it is Uncle Alec.Love makes us all cut queer capers; and I've an idea that the Don willdistinguish himself in some uncommon way. So be prepared to applaudwhatev
er it is. We owe him that, you know."
"Indeed we do! If Rose ever speaks of him to you, tell her I shall seethat he comes to no harm, and she must do the same for my Archie."
That unusual demonstration of tenderness from reserved Phebe verynaturally turned the conversation into a more personal channel; andArchie devoted himself to building castles in the air so successfullythat they passed the material mansion without either being aware ofit.
"Will you come in?" asked Phebe, when the mistake was rectified, andshe stood on her own steps looking down at her escort, who haddiscreetly released her before a pull at the bell caused five heads topop up at five different windows.
"No, thanks. I shall be at church this afternoon, and the Oratoriothis evening. I must be off early in the morning, so let me make themost of precious time, and come home with you to-night as I didbefore," answered Archie, making his best bow, and quite sure ofconsent.
"You may," and Phebe vanished, closing the door softly, as if shefound it hard to shut out so much love and happiness as that in theheart of the sedate young gentleman, who went briskly down the street,humming a verse of old "Clyde" like a tuneful bass viol.
"'Oh, let our mingling voices rise In grateful rapture to the skies, Where love has had its birth.
Let songs of joy this day declare That spirits come their bliss to share With all the sons of earth.'"
That afternoon Miss Moore sang remarkably well, and that evening quiteelectrified even her best friends by the skill and power with whichshe rendered "Inflammatus" in the oratorio.
"If that is not genius, I should like to know what it is?" said oneyoung man to another, as they went out just before the general crushat the end.
"Some genius and a great deal of love. They are a grand team, and,when well driven, astonish the world by the time they make in thegreat race," answered the second young man, with the look of oneinclined to try his hand at driving that immortal span.
"Dare say you are right. Can't stop now: she's waiting for me. Don'tsit up, Mac."
"The gods go with you, Archie."
And the cousins separated: one to write till midnight, the other tobid his Phebe good-by, little dreaming how unexpectedly andsuccessfully she was to earn her welcome home.