CHAPTER XI.
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING
EVERY day since the first of November there had been a letter for Ida inthe Sherman's post-office box, under cover of Lloyd's address. Lloyd hadgrown to dread the afternoon walks with the school, for she was in aflutter of nervousness from the moment they came in sight of thepost-office until the letter was safe in Ida's possession. There wasalways the fear that Betty might get to the window first, or that shemight catch sight of the envelope, addressed with many flourishes in abig, bold hand; or that that letter might be the only one, as it oftenwas, and Betty might wonder why Lloyd's face should grow so red when sheanswered, "No, nothing for us this time."
It was easier to manage after the weather turned cold enough to furnishan excuse for carrying a muff, but even then she fancied that MissMattie looked at her curiously sometimes, when she thrust the dailyletter hastily out of sight without a second glance. She never wentthrough the performance without wishing that it might be the last timethat she should be placed in such an uncomfortable position; butafterward she always reproached herself for making such a wish. Itseemed a very poor friendship that could not stand a little test likethat. It was such a small thing to do when the happiness of her friend'swhole life was at stake.
Then she had her reward in the evenings, when Ida, with her arms aroundher, whispered her undying gratitude, or read her extracts from herletters, which gave her glimpses into a romance far more beautiful thanthe "Fortunes of Daisy Dale," or the "Heiress of Dorn," or any of theothers they had read since.
A sort of circulating library had started since the rainy night theShadow Club read its first volume. Ida had a pile of paper-covered booksin her closet which she pronounced fully as interesting as the one shehad read aloud; so "Elsie's Wooing," "Fair but False," and the "Heiressof Dorn" began passing in turn from the covers of Katie's geography toKitty's, and from Lloyd's history to Betty's and Allison's. They read atrecess, they read before school, and more than once some excitingchapter proved too interesting to be laid aside in study time for thework of the hour.
After a few volumes of such tales, Betty became fired with an ambitionto write one herself, and soon became so absorbed in her pastime thatshe could think of little else. Eugene was the name of her hero, andGladys was the maiden who combined all the beauty and virtues possiblefor one mundane creature to possess. The whole club was consulted as tothe colour of her eyes and hair, and many points about which the littleauthor was undecided. They came in time to regard Eugene and Gladys asreal personages, in whom they had a family interest. Lloyd had bits ofthe story read to her sometimes when they were getting ready for bed.Betty lost interest in everything to such an extent that she ceased tobe sociable, and spent most of her time alone, dreaming out differentscenes in the story, which filled her mind to the exclusion of even herlessons.
One afternoon, near the middle of November, Lloyd, hurrying through thelower hall with an open letter in her hand, met the president.
"Oh, Doctah Wells!" she exclaimed. "I was just going to yoah room. Heahis a note mothah sent you in the lettah that came to-day. She haswritten for some things she needs, and wants Betty and me to walk up toLocust aftah school with a message to the servants about packing them,if you'll excuse us from the regulah promenade."
"Certainly," he answered, glancing over Mrs. Sherman's gracefullywritten request.
"But Betty has such a bad cold," continued Lloyd, "that the matronthinks she oughtn't to go out to walk to-day, and it's lonely going backhome by myself, when it's all shut up. May I take Ida Shane with meinstead? She's nevah seen Locust from the inside, and I'd love to showit to her. You know," a little smile dimpling her face as she spoke, "Ican't help being proud of the old place."
"You have good reason," said the professor, smiling back at her kindly."It is certainly a beautiful old homestead. Yes, I have no objection toIda's going with you."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Lloyd. She hurried up the stairs to Ida's room,calling excitedly as she reached the door, "Yes, he says you may go.Hurry and put on your things so that we can have as long time aspossible up there."
Betty had gone into the matron's room in her absence. It took Lloyd onlya moment to slip into her hat and coat. Then catching up her muff andthrusting it under her arm, she started back to Ida's room, buttoningher gloves as she went. Ida had taken down her hair and was deliberatelyrearranging it before the mirror.
"Oh, what did you do that for?" cried Lloyd, half-impatiently. "Itlooked all right as it was. We're not going to see any one but theservants. There's no use wearing your best hat." She glanced at the massof velvet and plumes lying on the bed. "Just pin your hair up anyfashion and stick on your mortar-board. That'll do."
"Shut the door, please," said Ida, in a low tone. "I have something totell you." She bent nearer the mirror, drawing the comb through thefluffy pompadour. "We _are_ going to see some one this afternoon._Edwardo is in the Valley._"
Lloyd dropped her muff at this surprising announcement, but Ida went on,calmly. "I've been expecting him for several days. He comes toLloydsboro sometimes to visit his cousin. I've lain awake nights tryingto arrange some way to see him. This is a thousand times better than anyway I could think of. I'm the luckiest girl that ever lived to have sucha friend as you to plan for me, Princess."
"I don't know what you mean," exclaimed Lloyd. "I haven't plannedanything."
"No, not intentionally, but look how easy you have made it for me tohave an interview. He'll be on the watch for the seminary girls to passby the store, for I was to manage to leave a note there for him, tellinghim where I can see him. All I have to do now is to signal him tofollow, and we can have a good long talk at Locust while you are givingthe servants their orders. You don't mind, do you?" she asked, as Lloydcontinued to stare at her without saying anything.
"No. Oh, no! Of co'se not," answered Lloyd, with a confused laugh. "Onlyit makes me feel so que'ah to think that I'm really going to see him.It's just as if Lord Rokeby or the squire's son had stepped out of thebook. I feel as if I were in a book myself since you told me that. Thisis the way it would be on the page, if we could stand off and read aboutourselves: 'And Violet's little friend led the way down the long avenue,and there on the threshold of her home, after months of cruelseparation, the reunited lovers kept their tryst.'"
Ida laughed happily. "You'll have a book written before Betty ishalf-started if you go on at that rate. Now tell me. Do I look allright?"
She was settling the big picture-hat in place over her soft hair as sheanxiously asked the question. Lloyd regarded her critically, tipping herhead a trifle to one side as she looked.
"Put your hat a hairbreadth farther over your face," she exclaimed."There! That's lovely. Oh, Violet, that shade of velvet is _so_ becomingto you. It's just the colah of yoah eyes. I nevah saw you look sobeautiful."
A becoming pink flushed Ida's cheeks. She bent her head over the bunchof violets pinned on the lapel of her coat. "It's dear of you to thinkso," she said, "and it's dear of you to send me these violets everyweek. These are unusually sweet. I'm so glad I have a fresh bunch forto-day--this happy day."
Lloyd took the keenest delight in watching the graceful girl sweep downthe hall ahead of her. From the plumes of the picture-hat to the hem ofher stylish gown she thoroughly satisfied Lloyd's artistic instinct forthe beautiful. She gave her arm an adoring little squeeze as they passeddown the stairs together.
Out on the road she glanced up at Ida again. Happiness had not made herradiant, as it did Daisy Dale, but there was a soft light in the violeteyes which made Lloyd think of a picture she had seen of a vestal maidenon her way to guard the holy altar fires.
Lloyd's heart began to beat faster as she realized that every step wastaking them nearer to Edwardo. She pictured him again in herimagination, as she had done so many times before. She would know thatpale, serious face with its flashing eyes anywhere she might meet him,she was sure.
Neither of them spoke as they hurried along t
he path through the lowerpart of Clovercroft and pushed open the woodland gate. But as theystepped up on the platform in front of the depot, Lloyd said, "Let'scross the track heah, and go up on the othah side of the road. Thenwe'll not have to pass the waiting-rooms. There's always so many peopleloafing around the window of the telegraph-office."
Instinctively she felt that while a little girl like herself wouldattract no attention, Ida in her long sweeping dress that she held up sogracefully, and the big hat drooping over her pretty face, and thestylish fur collar, and the violets on her coat, made a picture that anyone would turn to look at twice. She could not bear to think of the boldglances that might be cast after her by the loafers around the depot. Itseemed to her little short of sacrilege, although she could not haveput the feeling into words, for any eyes but Edwardo's to rest upon heras she went on her way to this meeting with that vestal-maiden look uponher face.
"Very well," assented Ida. "You know we want to stop at the store. Iwant to get some chocolate creams if they have any fresh ones."
"HE HELD IT ASIDE FOR THEM BOTH TO PASS THROUGH."]
Lloyd's heart gave a frightened thump as she remembered that it was inthe store that Edwardo would be watching presently for the seminarygirls to go by. It was half an hour earlier than they usually passed,but there was a possibility that he might be there. In less than aminute she might be face to face with the live hero of a real romance.It was with an odd feeling of mingled relief and disappointment that sheglanced around the store and saw only familiar faces. A young man whomshe knew by sight was perched on the bookkeeper's high stool at the backof the store, so absorbed in the Louisville evening paper which the lastmail-train had brought out that he did not look up. A small coloured boystood patiently by the stove waiting for his coal-oil can to be filled.One of the clerks was tying up a package of groceries for Frazer tocarry over to Clovercroft, and the other was showing ginghams to Mrs.Walton's Barbry.
"Be with you in a moment, please," called the first clerk as the girlsentered. Lloyd stopped in front of the show-case near the door, andbegan idly examining the various styles of jewelry and letter-paperdisplayed within. She had almost decided to invest in a certain littleenamelled pin which she knew would delight Mom Beck, and take it up toher as a surprise, when Barbry stepped beside her with a polite greetingand an inquiry about her grandfather's health.
While she was still talking with Barbry, Ida came up flushed andexcited. She thrust her bag of chocolates into her muff, and, catchingup her skirts, said, hurriedly, "Come on, I'm ready."
Lloyd started at once to follow her to the door, but looked back to nodassent to Barbry's last remark, and in turning again almost ran into theyoung fellow who had been reading at the bookkeeper's desk. He washurrying after Ida to open the door for her. He held it aside for themboth to pass through, and a flush of displeasure dyed Lloyd's face asshe saw the admiring glance he cast boldly at Ida.
"He needn't have gone so far out of his way to have done that,"exclaimed Lloyd, as they started up the road toward Locust. "It was theclerk's place to open the doah, and he nearly knocked him down, tryingto get there first."
"Who?" inquired Ida, innocently. She was several steps in advance, andcould not see Lloyd's face.
"That horrid Mistah Ned Bannon. I can't bea'h him. Papa Jack told mothahshe must nevah invite him to the house, undah any circumstances, becausehe wasn't fit for Betty and me to know, and--"
She stopped abruptly, for Ida turned with a white, pained face.
"Oh, Lloyd!" she cried. "How can you hurt me so? Don't believe any ofthose dreadful things you hear about him!" Then, seeing from Lloyd'samazed expression that she failed to understand the situation, sheadded, in a distressed tone, "_He_ is _Edwardo_."
If Ida had struck her on the face she could not have been more amazed.She stood staring at her helplessly, unable to say a word.
"I must be dreaming all this," she thought. "After awhile I'll surelywake up and find I've had a horrible nightmare."
But the distress in Ida's voice was too real to be a dream. She wasbiting her lips to keep back the tears. After one look into Lloyd'sdismayed face she turned away and began moving slowly on toward Locust.Lloyd walked beside her, mechanically. She could not shake off thefeeling that she must be in a dream. From time to time she cast ahalf-frightened glance toward Ida. She felt that she had wounded her sodeeply that nothing she might say could ever make amends. When she saw atear course slowly down her cheek and splash down on the bunch offlowers on her coat, she clasped her arm impulsively, saying, "Oh,Violet, deah, _don't_ cry! I wouldn't have hurt you for worlds. I didn'thave the faintest idea that _he_ was the one."
"It isn't so much what you said," answered Ida, controlling her voicewith an effort, "but I'd counted so much on your friendship for him. Andnow to know that people have prejudiced you against him before you'vehad a chance to meet him and find out for yourself that they'remistaken--" She stopped with a sob. "Under all his wild ways he's goodand noble and true at heart, and it isn't fair for everybody to condemnhim for what he has done, and stand in his way when he's trying so hardto do better."
One little hand in the muff was bare, and Lloyd saw the gleam of thepearl on it as Ida took out her handkerchief and dabbed it hastilyacross her eyes. It brought back all that scene in the moonlightedorchard, and Ida's blushing confession: "He says that is what my lifemeans to him--a pearl. That if it wasn't for my love and prayers hewouldn't care what became of him or what he did. Do you blame me fordisregarding aunt's wishes?" And again as on that night the LittleColonel's heart swelled with an indignant "No!" Again she arrayedherself beside her friend, ready to do battle for her against the wholeworld if necessary.
Wonderfully comforted by Lloyd's protests of sympathy and understanding,Ida dried her eyes and looked back over her shoulder, saying, "He's notin sight yet. I told him not to start for fifteen minutes, and then tocome the long way, around through Tanglewood, so nobody could think hewas following us. That will give you time to show me over the house."
As Lloyd swung open the entrance gate and started down the long avenue,a queer feeling crept over her that she could not have expressed had shetried. It seemed to her that the old trees were almost human, andstretched out their bare branches toward her with an offering ofprotection and welcome that was like the greeting of old friends. Yetat the same time she felt the silent challenge of these old familysentinels, and involuntarily answered it by a slight lifting of the headand a trifle more erectness of carriage as she passed. They seemed toexpect it of her, that she should walk past them, as all the Lloyds hadwalked, with the proud consciousness that none could gainsay theircountersign of gentle birth and breeding which spoke even in theirtread.
It was the first time she had been back to Locust since the beginning ofschool, and Ida felt some subtle change in her as soon as they passedinside the great gate. The Little Colonel's personality asserted itselfas it had not at the seminary. There she was Ida's adoring littleshadow, completely under the spell of her influence. Here, swayed by thestronger influence of old associations, she was herself again; the samewell-poised, imperious little creature that she was when she firstcoolly "bearded the lion in his den, the Douglas in his hall," andbrought the old Colonel to unconditional surrender.
Mom Beck came up from the servants' cottage and unlocked the house forthem, and after reading her the list of articles to be packed, Lloydleft her in the linen-room and began a tour of the house. In thepleasure of acting as hostess and showing Ida the attractions of Locust,she would have forgotten that an unwelcome guest was on his way, had notIda's restless glances from every front window they passed, remindedher.
The quarter of an hour was almost over when she led the way into thelong drawing-room, which she had reserved until last. "Of co'se itdoesn't look as it does when we are living heah. It makes such adifference having the curtains down and the furniture covahed; but Iwant you to see my harp." She I began slipping the cover from the tallburnished frame.
&n
bsp; "It belonged to my grandmothah Amanthis, and I am proudah of it thananything I own. That's her portrait ovah the mantel. Isn't shebeautiful? Somehow I nevah can call her just grandmothah, as if she werean old lady. She nevah lived to be one, you know. I always have to addher name, Amanthis, and I think of her as she looks there in thepictuah, the young girl she was when grandfathah first saw her, a Junerose in her hair and anothah at her throat. 'The fairest flowah in allKentucky,' he told me once. That's always seemed such a sweet romance tome. She wasn't much oldah than you when he brought her here a bride. Healways talks about her when the locusts bloom, for they were in blossomthen, and the avenue was white with them."
Lloyd had expected more outspoken admiration from Ida when she showedher the portrait, and was disappointed to have her barely glance up atit, murmuring, "Yes, she is lovely," in an absent-minded way, and thenhurry to the window, exclaiming, "Oh, there he is. I can see him justcoming in at the gate."
Lloyd's glance followed Ida's, and, stepping back from the window, shebegan hastily drawing the cover over the harp.
"Oh, don't put it on yet," said Ida. "I want to show it to him." Lloydhesitated an instant, then stammered confusedly, "But--but--oh, Ida, I'm_so_ sorry, but don't you see, I can't ask him into the house."
"Why not?" cried Ida. "You promised on the way up here you'd do anythingyou could for me."
Tears of distress gathered in the Little Colonel's eyes. It wasimpossible to answer Ida's question without wounding her deeply, for itwas in this very room she had heard her grandfather say: "It's a pity CyBannon's youngest boy is such a profligate. Why, sir, he isn't worth thepowder and shot that would put an end to his worthless existence. Iwouldn't let him darken my doors, sir!" And it was in this room alsothat she had heard her father say: "No, Elizabeth, for the judge's sakeI'd like to show Ned some attention, and some families do receive him.But his unprincipled conduct bars him out here. He's a fellow whom Inever could permit Lloyd to know."
Ida repeated her question. "Oh, Violet," cried Lloyd, "it's justbreaking my heart to refuse you, but I can't let him come in. It isn'tmy house, and I've no right to when grandfathah and Papa Jack have bothforbidden it. But it's warmah on the poa'ch than it is in the house withno fiah, and I'll put some chairs out for you, and wait for you inheah."
"Won't you even come out and be introduced?"
"Oh, Violet, _don't_ ask me!" begged the Little Colonel. "I'd like tofor your sake, but I can't. I simply can't!"
"Why not? Are you going to let your father's prejudices stand in theway? He doesn't know him as I do. He's just taken a dislike to him asaunt has done on account of things he's heard. It's unfair! It's unjustto condemn him on account of other people's mistaken opinions andprejudices."
The Little Colonel wavered. Ida's absolute trust made it seem possiblethat she might be right and everybody else mistaken. She peered out ofthe window again. He was half-way up the avenue now, sauntering along ata leisurely gait with a cigarette in his mouth.
"Besides," continued Ida, "nobody need ever know you have met him. It'seasy enough to keep it secret, so what's the difference--"
She stopped in the middle of her sentence, surprised by the change inthe Little Colonel's manner. She had drawn herself up haughtily, and inher fearless scorn bore a strong resemblance to the portrait of thesoldier-boy in gray in the frame above her.
"I hope," she said, slowly, "that I have too much respect for the familyhonah to do such an undahhanded thing as that. Do you think that I'd bewilling to be the only one of all the Lloyds who couldn't be trusted?"
"Why, Princess, I don't see what's changed you so suddenly," said Ida."I haven't asked you to do anything more than you've been doing allalong, by letting me use your post-office box."
"But I nevah would have done that" cried Lloyd, "if I'd have known whoyoah Edwardo was, and now I've found out that it is some one that PapaJack disapproves of, of co'se I can't carry yoah lettahs any moah."
"Oh, Princess, I thought _you'd_ stand by me against the whole world!"sobbed Ida. "I had counted so much--just these few days he'll be here inthe Valley--on seeing him up here. I didn't think _you'd_ beunreasonable and unjust. It seems as if it would break my heart to havemy only friend fail me now."
The tears were streaming down Lloyd's face, too, but she clenched herhands and shook her head stubbornly. "No, tell him he can't come heahagain, and that he mustn't send any moah lettahs to my address."
Without another word Ida turned and walked out to the porch, where shestood waiting behind the bare vines that twined the pillars for Edwardoto come to her. All the pretty colour had died out of her face, andLloyd felt in a sudden spasm of remorse that she was responsible for thetears in the beautiful eyes and the look of trouble on the face thatonly a little while before had been aglow with happiness. The odour of acigarette floated in through the hall. Then Ida closed the door, and thetwo sat down on the step outside.
Lloyd paced up and down the long room with her hands behind her back.There was an ache in her throat. She was so miserably disappointed inEdwardo, so miserably sorry for Ida. More than all, she was miserablysorry for herself; for the friendship which she had counted one of themost beautiful things of her life lay in ruins. For a moment she doubtedif she had done right to shirk the obligations it had laid upon her, andwondered if it were not a greater sacrifice than her father ought toexpect her to make for him. The temptation pressed sorely upon her to goto Ida and tell her she would stand by her as she had promised, and fora few days longer, at least, be the bearer of their letters. She evenstarted toward the door; but half-way across the room some compellingforce drew her eyes toward the portrait of Amanthis, and she stoodstill, looking into the depths of the clear, true eyes which had givencounsel to more than one troubled heart.
Years before, the old Colonel, standing with his head bowed on themantel, had murmured, brokenly, "Oh, Amanthis, tell me what to do!" and,obedient to the silent message of that straightforward gaze, had startedoff through the falling snow to be reconciled to his only daughter. Andnow Lloyd, looking up in the same way, no longer had any doubts abouther duty.
"It wouldn't be right, would it!" she murmured. "_You_ nevah didanything you had to hide. _You_ wouldn't stoop to anything clandestine."She straightened herself up proudly, and wiped her eyes. "Neithah willI, no mattah what it costs me not to!" Then she went on, brokenly, as iftalking to a living presence: "Oh, it's so pitiful for her to be sodeceived in him; for of co'se grandfathah and Papa Jack and her aunt andeverybody put togethah couldn't be mistaken. And I love her so much; Iwish mothah were here, or Papa Jack--but I'll promise _you_, GrandmothahAmanthis, I'll nevah make you ashamed of me again. I wouldn't havecarried the lettahs if I had known, and you can trust me always aftahthis, for evah and evah."
It seemed to Lloyd that an approving smile rested on the girlish face,and a red streak of light from the wintry sunset, stealing in throughthe uncurtained window, shone across the June rose at her throat till itburned for the moment with the live red of a living rose.
She slipped the cover on the harp again, and taking one more look aroundthe room at every familiar object grown dear from years of happyassociations, she closed the door softly and stole up-stairs to rejoinMom Beck. She felt as if she had been to a funeral and had suddenlygrown very old and worldly wise--years older and wiser than when shestarted blithely up to Locust an hour or two before.
It was late when she and Mom Beck came down-stairs again. The sunsetglow had almost faded from the sky. They bolted the front door and wentout the back, Mom Beck taking the key again.
"Ida is waiting for me on the front poa'ch," Lloyd explained. "Good-bye,Mom Beck. I'm mighty homesick to come back to you all."
"Good-bye, honey," responded the faithful old soul. "I'm going to bringyou some prawlines in the mawnin'. Ole Becky knows what'll cheer up herbaby."
Lloyd paused at the corner of the porch. "I think we ought to go now,"she called.
"In a minute," answered Ida. "I'll catch up with y
ou."
Lloyd walked on slowly by herself, down the avenue, through the gate,beside the railroad track. She was in sight of the depot before NedBannon struck off across a field and Ida joined her. She did not speakas they hurried on toward the seminary, and Lloyd felt, with a desolatesinking of the heart, that the old intimacy could never be resumed.