A Little Country Girl

  CHAPTER XI.

  FIVE AND ONE MAKE SIX.

  A LONG hush followed these few words of explanation. Gertrude was toostunned to ask further questions. Mechanically she moved toward herroom, and took off her hat and coat; but all the time she was washingher hands and smoothing her hair, her ears were strained for sounds fromGeorgie's room, which was next her own. There was very little to beheard,--only a low, continuous murmur of conversation, broken now andthen by a louder word; but all so subdued that Candace, sitting on thestaircase seat, caught nothing. Marian, rushing up after her mother, hadbeen stopped by the explanation that Georgie was not well, and wanted tobe alone with mamma. After a little natural outburst of impatience, shetoo seemed to catch the vague sense of crisis that was in the air, andsettled down quietly, with her head on Candace's knee, to wait.

  It was a long waiting. The red sunset sky faded into pallor, and thestars came out. Gertrude, restless with suspense, joined the other two.Both she and Candace were too nervous for ordinary talk, and Marian'spresence precluded any mention of the subject with which their thoughtswere full; so the trio sat mostly in silence. Frederic was heard to passdown the upper entry and announce dinner; but Mrs. Gray only answered bythe word "Presently," and did not open the door. The shadows grew darkeras the dusk deepened, till after a while the gas in the hall waslighted, when they fled to the remoter corners, and consoled themselvesby casting an added blackness wherever they were permitted to fall,--theonly consolation possible to shadows.

  To the anxious watchers on the window bench the time seemed very long;and in fact it was nearly eight o'clock before Georgie's door was heardto open, and Mrs. Gray to pass across the hall to her own room. She onlystayed there a few minutes. The girls sprang up to receive her as shecame downstairs, and the older ones looked anxiously in her face. Shewas tired and paler than usual, and her eyes showed that she had beencrying; but her smile was brave and clear as she put her arm roundCandace, and gave her a long kiss.

  "You must be half starved, my dears," she said. "Georgie has a badheadache, and I have sent her to bed. She won't come down againto-night; we will have dinner at once."

  They went to dinner, accordingly. Marian held fast to her mother's hand;but Mrs. Gray kept the other arm round Candace, and there was a warmthand tenderness in the touch which thrilled through Cannie's heart. Shefelt, without asking why, that Cousin Kate loved her more than usualthat night, and it made her happy.

  Jane had been deeply aggrieved at the long delay of the dinner; but shewas a woman of resources as well as principle, and, as a member in goodand regular standing of the Second Baptist Church, knew that forgivenessof injuries was a branch of Christian duty. She reminded herself,beside, that "Missis wasn't often that inconsiderate, and most probablythere was reasons this time," which made it easier to overlook heroffence. So she kept some things back, and took some things off, andmanaged to send in the food in an eatable condition, instead of lettingit calcine into cinders as a less conscientious and capable cook wouldhave done.

  Marian went to bed; but still Mrs. Gray said not a word about Georgieand her confession. She looked weary and preoccupied, and Gertrudefancied--but perhaps it was only fancy--that there was a shade ofcoldness in her mother's manner towards herself. They were all glad whenthe time came to separate; but before she slept that night, Mrs. Graysent a telegram to her husband.

  Mr. Gray appeared next day on the earliest possible train. There was along consultation in the library, in which Georgie took a part. She cameout with her eyes red with crying, but somehow looking relieved, too,and with a peaceful look in her face which had been absent from it oflate. Candace, passing her on the stairs, averted her eyes shyly, andwas altogether astonished at being caught in a tight embrace and kissedseveral times.

  "It's all right," Georgie whispered. "Papa has been, oh, so kind! andmamma is like an angel to me. You were just right; and I never can thankyou enough, you dear!"

  "Oh, how glad I am!" cried Cannie, clasping her hands together in suddenrelief.

  Georgie said no more; she gave Cannie another kiss, and hurried away.

  What steps Mr. Gray took to get rid of Alexander, the girls never knew;but whatever they may have been, they were effectual. He disappearedfrom Newport the very next day, and neither Berry Joy nor Georgie eversaw or heard of him again. It is only on women and girls, and men whoare as weak and uninstructed as women, that rascals of his low stampventure to practise their arts. The moment a man of boldness andresource appears on the scene, one who knows the laws and is not afraidto invoke their protection, black-mailers quail and vanish.

  Such an affair cannot, however, be made straight without a good deal ofsuffering to all concerned. Georgie was forgiven. She was saved from theconsequences of her own folly and imprudence; but she could not forgiveherself, nor could she forget the deep pain and mortification she hadgiven to the parents she loved, or ignore the fact that she hadforfeited something of their good opinion, and that it would take her along time to regain it. Gertrude, too, had her share to endure. She hada strong sense of honor and a high opinion of her own powers; yet inthis the first real test of her life, she had failed miserably, and notonly given Georgie no assistance, but had helped to confirm her in hererror. Berenice Joy received her portion of punishment in the shape ofan interview, which she found most disagreeable, with Mr. Gray. At herurgent entreaty, he gave up his intention of telling the story to hermother, but she felt that she was disgraced in his eyes and in those ofMrs. Gray; and though she cried, and looked very pretty, and wasproperly grateful and distressed, and assured Mr. Gray that she shouldnever forget how good he had been to her, and that he couldn't imaginehow much she and Georgie had suffered just for a moment ofthoughtlessness, she was aware all the time that her tears and hergratitude made no impression, and that he did not believe in her. Shewas sure that all intimacy between herself and Georgie would bediscouraged thenceforward; and this was a real punishment, for Berrycounted a good deal on the Grays, and had built some social hopes on herposition as their friend. Her forebodings proved true. Her little gushof thankfulness and penitence did not touch Mr. Gray's heart in theleast. He saw that Berry was a dangerous friend for his soft-hearted,easily influenced Georgie, and told his wife that he decidedly objectedto the girls' having anything more to do with her. Mrs. Gray agreed withhim in opinion; and though there was no open rupture between thefamilies, Berry found herself after that placed on the footing of anordinary acquaintance, and was never able to regain her old positionwith any of the Gray family.

  But before this conversation took place it was finally settled thatCandace was to stay always, and be Cousin Kate's fourth daughter, and asister to her three cousins.

  Parents, sisters, home,--this was a rich endowment, indeed, for alonely, orphaned girl to fall heir to. But Cannie had earned her goodfortune, and every member of the family had learned to value and to wishto keep her.

  It was Mrs. Gray who broke the happy news to her.

  "Shall you like it? Will you be content to stay with us always?" sheasked.

  "Why, Cousin Kate, what a question! How could I help liking it? I neverknew what happy meant, till I came to you," answered Cannie, flushedwith emotion and pleasure. "It's only that it seems too good to be true!Why, only yesterday I was counting the days till the fifteenth ofOctober; because, you know, you are going back to town then, and Ithought you would send me back to Aunt Myra, and I said, 'I shall onlybe happy for twenty-four days more, perhaps only twenty-three,'--for,you see, I didn't feel sure that you could keep me till the very lastday. And now there is going to be no end to the happy times. I can't seewhat makes you so good to me, Cousin Kate."

  "I think we can understand that better than you can," her cousinreplied. "We need you, Cannie, as much as you need us. The benefit willbe mutual."

  "Need _me_! when you have Cousin Court and the girls?"

  "Cousin Court and the girls need you too.--Don't we, Georgie? Come inand help me explain to Candace that all of us wa
nt her, and all of usare glad to have her stay."

  "Indeed, we do. Cannie, I can't talk about it, for it's like a bad dreamfrom which I have waked up, and I don't like to recall it; but I nevershall forget how good you were to me that horrible day. It was you whopersuaded me to go to mamma. I never should have gone if you hadn'tsomehow swept me up and made me. And, oh, if I hadn't!--How could I beafraid of you, dear, darling mamma?--She was just what you said shewould be, Cannie. She knew just what to do; she understood in a moment.She was so kind! I feel as if Trinity Church had been rolled off mymind. It was all your doing, and I never can forget it."

  "Georgie is right," said Mrs. Gray. "Don't look so bewildered, dear. Youdid her a real service in persuading her to be brave and frank. I don'tknow why it is so hard for children to trust their parents. It is theparents' fault somehow, no doubt."

  "Oh, mother, _no_! It was only that I dreaded to have you think ill ofme."

  "Not quite," said Mrs. Gray, shaking her head. "I must blame myself alittle. I must have made some mistake with you all, when even Gertrudecould not believe that I would not be harsh and unforgiving. But we havehad our lesson, Georgie, and we will not do so badly again, especiallyas there will be this dear little new sister of yours to help us to keepstraight. We need not talk any more about it, but, Cannie, we all feelthat to have you with us will be good for us all. There is nothing inthe world so rare and so precious as clear truth, and the courage tohold fast by it; and we have proved that you possess both."

  "And don't you think that it will be good for me?" said Cannie, her eyesshining with grateful tears.

  "Yes; we can help you too. It is one of the good things in this worldthat help is almost always on both sides.--Marian," as that small personpassed the door, "what do you think of having Cannie permanently for asister?"

  "Really! Will she stay? Oh, how perfectly--daisy!" And Marian threw herarms round Candace's neck, and gave her a squeeze which left no doubt asto her approval of the plan.

  Only one cloud now remained on Candace's horizon of happiness. Mrs. Grayhad become like a very mother to her. Her bright, perpetual,all-understanding tenderness was like daily food to Candace's hungeringheart. Mr. Gray had taken her into the highest favor. He had alwaysliked Cannie and been kind to her, but now he petted her almost as muchas he petted Marian. He scarcely ever came back from New York withoutbringing her some little gift,--a book, a trinket, a box of bonbons,--asa proof that she had been in his thoughts. The latest and prettiest ofthese was on her finger now,--a pearl ring with the word "Truth"engraved inside its golden circlet. Georgie and Marian had welcomed herheartily; but Gertrude,--Gertrude had said nothing. She was alwayscordial now, and a sort of added respect and liking had appeared in hermanner since the Alexander episode; but about the new arrangement whichmade Candace one of the family, she had not spoken a word. Till she did,till she was sure that Gertrude too was content to have her stay,Cannie's happiness could not be complete.

  The fourteenth of October at length arrived. It was the last day oftheir Newport season, but Candace no longer dreaded the break-up. It didnot mean separation and loneliness now, only the change to a new anddifferent scene, which might be as delightful in its way as the summerhad been. Yet Newport was still in full beauty, and it seemed a pity toleave it. No frosts had fallen to dim the glory of the flowers. Thehoneysuckles were still starred with their white, gold-antheredblossoms; the geranium beds looked as gay, the foliage plants as superbas ever; while the green of the grass was as fresh as in July. Here andthere a little drift of yellow leaves lay under the trees, but it wasthe only sign of autumn. Georgie gathered a great basketful ofnasturtiums, heliotrope, and mignonette to carry down to Miss Gisborne,and Marian was sent off in the village-cart with a similar basketful forMrs. Frewen. The house was all in a confusion of packing. Frederic waswrapping tissue-paper round the picture-frames, Elizabeth counting linenand silver, the gardeners emptying the balcony boxes. Mrs. Gray proposedthat Gertrude and Candace should go for a last walk on the Cliffs, andso be out of the way of these discomforts.

  "There is nothing for you to do," she said. "Only don't stay too late,and come in before it grows dark. We are to have a 'thick tea' athalf-past six, in place of a regular dinner. I thought it would be lesstrouble on this busy day."

  It was to Pulpit Rock that the two cousins bent their way. The Cliffswere even lonelier now than they had been when Candace first visitedthem. There were no bathers in the surf; no carriages were drawn up onthe higher part of the beach, and the road leading around Easton's Pointshowed only a few scattered figures and one solitary horseman on itsentire length. Here and there along the windings of the Cliff Walk asingle walker appeared, dark against the brightness of the sky, or twogirls were seen pacing the smooth gravel, with fluttering dresses, andhair blown by the soft October wind. The sea was as beautiful in coloras ever, but it had changed with the change of the season. The blueseemed more rarefied, the opalescent tints more intense; deep purplereflections lay in the shadows made by the rocky points, and there was abright clearness of atmosphere quite unlike the dream-like mistiness ofthe summer.

  The cousins sat side by side on the big rock, just where they had sat onthat June day which seemed to Candace so long ago. Gertrude was nolonger critical or scornful. She sat a little farther back than Candace,and from time to time glanced at her side-face with a sort of puzzledexpression. Cannie, happening to turn, caught the look; it embarrassedher a little, and to hide the embarrassment she began to talk.

  "Did you know that Cousin Kate is going to let me live with you always?"she asked.

  "Yes; mamma told me."

  "Isn't she good?" went on Candace, impulsively. "I can hardly believeyet that it is true. What makes you all so very, very kind to me, Ican't think."

  "I haven't been particularly kind," said Gertrude, suddenly."Candace,--I might as well say it at once, for it's been a good deal onmy mind lately,--I wish you would forget how nasty I was when you firstcame to us."

  "Were you nasty?" said Candace, trying to speak lightly, but with aflush creeping into her face.

  THE CLIFFS.

  "I shall always love this rock," said Candace.--PAGE 281.]

  "Yes, I was; very nasty. I didn't care to have you come, in the firstplace; and I thought you seemed awkward and countrified, and I didn'tlike your clothes, and I was afraid the girls here would laugh at you.It was a mean sort of feeling, and the worst thing is that I didn'tsee that it was mean. I was ashamed of you; but now I am ashamed,dreadfully ashamed, of myself. I felt so much wiser and more knowingthan you then; and yet when Georgie, my own sister, got into thisdreadful trouble and came to me for help, I had none to give her. I wasas much a coward as she was. I gave her bad advice; and it was you, whomI laughed at and was unkind to, who saw what she ought to do, and wasbrave and really helped. When I think of it all, I feel as if I couldn'tforgive myself."

  "Why, Gertrude dear, don't!" cried Cannie; for Gertrude was almostcrying. "I don't wonder you didn't care for me at first. I wasdreadfully awkward and stupid. And you never were nasty to me. Don't saysuch things! But"--with a shy longing to remove beyond question thedoubt which had troubled her--"you _do_ like me now? You are not sorrythat I am to stay and live with you?"

  "Sorry! No; I am very, very glad. You are the best girl I know. It willdo me heaps of good to have you in the house."

  "Oh, how delightful!" cried Cannie. "Now I haven't a thing to wish for.It is all nonsense about my doing you good, but I am so glad you want meto stay."

  The two girls nestled closer and kissed each other, with a new sense offriendship and liking. The west wind blew past, making little quickeddies on the surface of the water. The gulls flew lower, their whitewings flashing close to the flashing surf; sails far out at sea gleamedgolden in the level rays of the sunset; a yellow light enveloped thefarther point.

  "I shall always love this rock," said Candace.

  Gertrude began the downward climb; but Candace paused a moment on thesummit, and turned f
or a last look at the water. Every glitteringfoam-cap, every glinting sail, seemed to her to wave a signal of gladsympathy and congratulation. "Good-by," she softly whispered. "But Ishall come back. You belong to me now." She kissed her hand to the farblue horizon; then with a smile on her face, she turned, and followedGertrude down the steep rock-face, a happy girl.

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  University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.