The Old Gray Homestead

  CHAPTER XII

  When, two days later, Sylvia and Sally left for New York, none of theGrays had been told, much less had they suspected, what had happened. Acertain new shyness, which Austin found very attractive, had come overSylvia, and she seemed to wish to keep their engagement a secret for atime, and also to keep to her plan of going away, with the added reasonthat she now "wanted a chance to think things over."

  "To think whether you really love me?" asked Austin gravely.

  "Haven't I convinced you that I don't need to think that over any more?"she said, with a look and a blush that expressed so much that theconversation was near to being abruptly ended.

  Austin controlled himself, however, and merely said:

  "I'm going down to our little cemetery this afternoon to put it in goodorder for the spring; I know you've always said you didn't want to gothere, but perhaps you'll feel differently now. All the Grays are buriedthere, and no one else, and in spite of all the other things we'veneglected, we've kept that as it should be kept; and it's so peaceful andpretty--always shady in summer, when it's hot, and sheltered in winter,when it's cold! I thought you could take a blanket and a book, and sitand read while I worked. Afterwards we can walk over to your house if youlike--you may want to give me some final directions about the work that'sto be done there while you're gone."

  "I'd love to go to the cemetery--or anywhere else, for that matter--withyou," said Sylvia, "and afterwards--to _our_ house. Perhaps you'll wantto give some directions yourself!"

  The tiny graveyard lay in the hollow of one of the wooded slopes whichbroke the great, undulating meadow which stretched from the Homestead tothe river, a wall made of the stones picked up on the place around it, aplain granite shaft erected by the first Gray in the centre, and groupedabout the shaft the quaint tablets of the century before, withold-fashioned names spelled in an old-fashioned manner, and with homelyrhymes and trite sayings underneath; farther off, the newer gravestones,more ornate and less appealing. The elms were just beginning to bud, andthe cold April wind whistled through them, but the pines were as greenand sheltering as always, and Sylvia spread her blanket under one ofthem, and worked away at the sewing she had brought instead of a book,while Austin burned the grass and dug and pruned, whistling under hisbreath all the time. He stopped once to call her attention to a robin,the first they had seen that spring, and finally, when the sacred littleplace was in perfect order, came with a handful of trailing arbutus forher, and sat down beside her.

  "I thought I remembered seeing some of this on the bank," he said; "it'salways grown there--will you take it for your 'bouquet des fiancailles,'Sylvia? I remember how surprised we all were last year because you likedthe little wild flowers best, and went around searching for them, whenyour rooms were full of carnations and hothouse roses. And because youused to go out to walk, just to see the sunsets. Do you still lovesunsets, too?"

  "Yes, more than ever. In the fall while you were gone, I used to go downto the river nearly every afternoon, and watch the color spread over thefields. There's something about a sunset in the late autumn that's unlikethose at any other time of year--have you ever noticed? It's not rosy,but a deep, deep golden yellow--spreading over the dull, bare earth likethe glory from the diadem of a saint--one of those gray Fathers of earlyItaly, for instance."

  "I know what you mean--but they seem to me more like the glory that comesinto any dull, bare life," said Austin,--"the kind of glory you've beento me. It worries me to hear you say you want to go away to 'thinkthings over.' What is there to think over--if you're sure you care?"

  "There are lots of details to a thing of this sort."

  "A thing of what sort?"

  "Oh, Austin, how stupid you are! A--a marriage, of course."

  "I thought all that was necessary were two willing victims, a license,and a parson."

  "Well, there's a good deal more to it than that. Besides, your familywould surely guess if I stayed here. I want to keep it just to ourselvesfor a little while."

  "I see. It's all right, dear. Take all the time you want."

  "What would you tell them, anyway?" she went on lightly,--"that Iproposed to you, and that you accepted me? Or, to be more exact, that youdidn't accept me, but said, 'No, no, no!' most decidedly, and went onrepeating it, with variations, until I threw myself into your arms? Itwas an awful blow to my pride--considering that heretofore I've certainlyhad my fair share of attention, and even a little more than that--to haveto do _all_ the love-making, and I'm certainly not going to go brag aboutit--' This time the conversation really did get interrupted, for Austinwould not for one instant submit to such a "garbling of statistics" andtook the quickest means in his power to put an end to it."

  He had the wisdom, however, greater, perhaps, than might have beenexpected, not to oppose any of her wishes just then, and it was Sylviaherself who at the last minute felt her heart beginning to fail her, andcalled him to the farther end of the station platform, on the pretext ofconsulting him about some baggage.

  "I don't see how I can say good-bye--in just an ordinary way," shewhispered, "and I'm beginning to miss you dreadfully already. If I can'tstand it, away from you, you must arrange to come down for at least aday or two."

  It was beginning to sprinkle, and, taking her umbrella, he opened it andhanded it to her, leaning forward and kissing her as soon as she washidden by it.

  "I never meant to say good-bye 'in an ordinary way,'" he said cheerfully,"whatever your intentions were! And, of course, I'll manage to come totown for a day or two, if you find you really want me. Fred would be gladto help me out for that long, I'm sure. On the other hand, if it's arelief to be rid of me for a while, and New York looks pretty good toyou, don't hurry back--you've been away for a whole year, remember. I'llunderstand."

  In spite of his cheerful words and matter-of-course manner, Austin stoodwatching the train go out with a heavy heart. He was very sincere infeeling that his presumption had been great, and that he had takenadvantage of feelings which mere youth and loneliness might have awakenedin Sylvia, and from which she would recover as soon as she was with herown friends again. And yet he loved her so dearly that it was hard--eventhough he acknowledged that it was best--to let her go back to the worldby whose standards he felt he fell short in every way.

  "If I lose her," he said to himself, "I must remember that--of course Iought to. King Cophetua and the beggar maid makes a very prettystory--but it doesn't sound so well the other way around. And then she'sgiven me such a tremendous amount already--if I never get any more, Imust be thankful for that."

  Sally spent a rapturous week in New York, and came home with her modesttrousseau all bought and glowing accounts of the good times she had had.

  "The very first thing Sylvia did, the morning after we got there," shesaid, "was to buy a new limousine and hire a man to run it. My, you oughtto see it! It's lined with pearl gray, and Sylvia keeps a gold vase withorchids--fresh ones every day--in it! She helped me choose all my things,and I never could have got half so much for my money, or had half suchpretty things if she hadn't; and she began right off to get the most_elegant_ clothes for herself, too! I knew Sylvia was pretty, but I neverknew _how_ pretty until I saw her in a low-necked white dress! We went tothe theatre almost every evening, and saw all the sights, besides--itdidn't take long to get around in that automobile, I can tell you!Perfect rafts of people kept coming to see her all the time, telling herhow glad they were to see her back, and teasing her to do things withthem. I bet she'll get married again in no time--there were _dozens_ ofmen, all awfully rich and attractive and apparently just _crazy_ abouther! We went out twice to lunch, and once to dinner, at the grandesthouses I ever even imagined, and every one was lovely to me, too, but ofcourse it was only Sylvia they really cared about. I was about wild, Igot so excited, but it didn't make any more impression on Sylvia thanwater rolling off a duck's back--she didn't seem the least bit differentfrom when she was here, helping mother wash the supper dishes, andteaching Austin F
rench. She took it all as a matter of course. I guess wedidn't any of us realize how important she was."

  "I did," said Austin.

  "You!" exclaimed his sister, with withering scorn. "You've never beeneven civil to her, much less respectful or attentive! If you could seethe way other men treat her--"

  "I don't want to," said Austin, with more truth than his sister guessed.

  A young, lovely, and agreeable widow, with a great deal of money, and no"impediments" in the way of either parents or children, is apt to findlife made extremely pleasant for her by her friends; and every one felt,moreover, that "Sylvia had behaved so very well." For two months afterher husband's death, she had lived in the greatest seclusion, too ill,too disillusioned and horror-stricken, too shattered in body and soul--asthey all knew only too well--to see even her dearest friends. Then shehad gone to the country, remaining there quietly for a year, regainingher health and spirits, and had now returned to her uncle's home,lightening her mourning, going out a little, taking up her old interestsagain one by one--a fitting and dignified prelude for a new establishmentof her own. She could not help being pleased and gratified at the warmthof her reception; and she found, as Austin had predicted, that "New Yorklooked pretty good to her." It is doubtful whether the taste for luxury,once acquired, is ever wholly lost, even though it may be temporarilycast aside; and Sylvia was too young and too human, as well as toohealthy and happy again, not to enjoy herself very much, indeed.

  For nearly a month she found each day so full and so delightful as itcame, that she had no time to be lonely, and no thought of going away;but gradually she came to a realization of the fact that the days were_too_ full; that there were no opportunities for resting and reading and"thinking things over"; that the quiet little dinners and luncheons offour and six, given in her honor, were gradually but surely becominglarger, more formal and more elaborate; that her circle of callers was nolonger confined to her most intimate friends; that her telephone rang inand out of season; that the city was growing hot and dusty and tawdry,and that she herself was getting tired and nervous again. And when shewaked one morning at eleven o'clock, after being up most of the nightbefore, her head aching, her whole being weary and confused, it neededneither the insistent and disagreeable memory of a little incident of theprevious evening, nor the letter from Austin that her maid brought in onher breakfast-tray, to make her realize that the tinsel of her gayety wasgetting tarnished.

  * * * * *

  DEAREST (the letter ran):

  It is midnight, and--as you know--I am always up at five, but I must sendyou just a few words before I go to bed, for these last two days havebeen so full that it has seemed to be impossible to find a moment inwhich to write you. "Business is rushing" at the Gray Homestead thesedays, and everything going finely. The chickens and ducklings are allcoming along well--about four hundred of them--and we've had threebeautiful new heifer calves this week. Peter is beside himself with joy,for they're all Holsteins. I went to Wallacetown yesterday afternoon, andmade another $200 payment on our note at the bank--at this rate we'llhave that halfway behind us soon.

  To-day I've been over at your house every minute that I could spare andsucceeded in getting the last workman out--for good--at eight o'clockthis evening. (I bribed him to stay overtime. There are a few little oddjobs left, but I can work those in myself in odd moments.) There is noreason now why you shouldn't begin to send furniture any time you like. Inever would have believed that it would be possible to get three suchgood bedrooms--not to mention a bathroom and closets--out of the attic,or that tearing out partitions and unblocking fireplaces would work suchwonders downstairs. It's all just as you planned it that first day wetramped over in the snow to see it--do you remember?--and it's alllovely, especially your bedroom on the right of the front door, and thebig living-room on the left. The papers you chose are exactly right forthe walls, and the white paint looks so fresh and clean, and I'm sure thepiazza is deep enough to suit even you. I've ploughed and planted yourflower- and vegetable-gardens, as well as those at the Homestead, andthis warm, early spring is helping along the vegetation finely, so Ithink things will soon be coming up. We've decided to try both wheat andalfalfa as experiments this year, and I can hardly wait to see whetherthey'll turn out all right.

  Katherine graduates from high school the eighteenth of June, and asSally's teaching ends the same day, and Fred's patience has finally givenout with a bang, she has fixed the twenty-fifth for her wedding. Won'tshe be busy, with just one week to get ready to be a bride, after shestops being a schoolmarm? But, of course, we'll all turn to and help her,and Molly will be home from the Conservatory ten days before that--youknow how efficient she is. By the way, has she written you the good newsabout her scholarship? We may have a famous musician in the family yet,if some mere man doesn't step in and intervene. Speaking of lovers, Peteris teaching Edith Dutch! And when mother remonstrated with her, sheflared up and asked if it was any different from having you teach meFrench! (I sometimes believe "the baby" is "onto us," though all theothers are still entirely unsuspicious, and keep right on telling me Inever half appreciated you!) So they spend a good deal of time at theliving-room table, with their heads rather close together, but I haven'tyet heard Edith conversing fluently in that useful and musical foreignlanguage which she is supposed to be acquiring.

  I haven't had a letter from you in nearly a week, but I'm sure, if youweren't well and happy, Mr. Stevens would let us know. I'm glad you'rehaving such a good time--you certainly deserve it after being cooped upso long. Sorry you think it isn't suitable for you to dance yet, for, ofcourse, you would enjoy that a lot, but you can pretty soon, can't you?

  Good-night, darling. God bless you always!

  AUSTIN

  * * * * *

  There was something in the quiet, restrained tone of the letter, with itsdetails of homely, everyday news, and the tidings of his care andinterest in her little house, that touched Sylvia far more than manypages of passionate outpouring of loneliness and longing could have done.She knew that the loneliness and longing were there, even though he wouldnot say so, and she turned from the great bunch of American Beautieswhich had also come in with her breakfast-tray, with something akinalmost to disgust as she thought of Austin's tiny bunch of arbutus--his"bouquet des fiancailles," as he had called it--the only thing, besidesthe little star, that he had ever given her. She called her maid, andannounced that in the future she would never be at home to a certaincaller; then she reached for the telephone beside her bed and cancelledall her engagements for the next few days, on the plea of not feelingwell, which was perfectly true; and then she called up Western Union, anddispatched a long telegram, after which she indulged in a comforting andsalutary outburst of tears.

  "It will serve me quite right if he won't come," she sobbed. "I wouldn'tif I were he, not one step--and he's just as stubborn as I am. I neverwas half good enough for him, and now I've neglected him, and fritteredaway my time, and even flirted with other men--when I'd scratch out theeyes of any other woman if she dared to look at him. It's to be hopedthat he doesn't find out what a frivolous, empty-headed, silly, vainlittle fool I am--though it probably would be better for him in the endif he did."

  Sylvia passed a very unhappy day, as she richly deserved to do. For thewoman who gives a man a new ideal to live for, and then, carelessly,herself falls short of the standard she has set for him, often does asgreat and incalculable harm as the woman who has no standards at all.

  Uncle Mat received a distinct shock when he reached his apartment thatnight, to find that his niece, dressed in a severely plain black gown,was dining at home alone with him. Before he finished his soup hereceived another shock.

  "Austin Gray is coming to New York," she said, coolly, buttering acracker; "I have just had a telegram saying he will take a night train,and get in early in the morning--eight o'clock, I believe. I think I'llgo and meet him at the station. Are you willing he should
come here, andsleep on the living-room sofa, as you suggested once before, or shall Itake him to a hotel?"

  "Bring him here by all means," returned her bewildered relative; "I likethat boy immensely. What streak of good luck is setting him loose? Ithought he was tied hand and foot by bucolic occupations."

  "Apparently he has found some means of escape," said Sylvia; "would youcare to read aloud to me this evening?"