CHAPTER XIV.
EXPLANATIONS.
"And she really is not hurt, Uncle John?"
"Not so much as an eyelash! You were so quick, child! How did you manageit? She had only time to scream and put her hands to her face, beforeyou were upon her. The thing that flared up so was a lace shawl she hadon her arm,--switched it into the candle, of course!--and that shedropped. It is not of her I am thinking, but of you, my dear, braveMargaret!" He bent over her tenderly and anxiously; but she smiledbrightly in his face.
"Truly, they hardly hurt at all! As you say, I must have been veryquick, and the flames were only little ones. Elizabeth has bandaged themso beautifully; the pain is almost gone already."
They were in Margaret's room; she on her sofa, with her hands swathed inbandages, but otherwise looking quite her own self, only a little palerthan usual; her uncle sitting by her, his hand on her arm. Peggyfluttered in and out of the room, entirely recovered from the effect ofher fall the day before, and proud beyond measure of having charge ofMargaret, who last night had been watching and tending her. Peggy'snursing was of doubtful quality; already she had baptised Margarettwice,--once with gruel, again with cologne, when the cork with whichshe had been struggling came out suddenly, deluging her patient withfragrance.
But her good will was so hearty, her affection so ardent and so anxiousto prove itself, that Margaret had not the heart to deny her anything,and submitted to having her hair brushed in a style that was entirelynew to her, and that made her wink at each vigorous stroke of the brush.
Rita had not been seen since the night before, save by Elizabeth, whopronounced her well, but "a little upset, Miss!" and Elizabeth's facewas a study in repression as she spoke.
"And the boys, Uncle?" Margaret asked, when she was assured of Rita'ssafety. "What have you done with them?"
Mr. Montfort laughed.
"Poor boys!" he said. "Poor lads! they have had a hard time of it."
"Oh, do tell me!" cried Margaret.
"Why, they are all right; the boys are all right!" said Mr. Montfort."It is that little monkey over there," nodding toward Rita's room, "whohas made all the trouble. They have been fighting, it is true, and havebeen in the mountains with the insurgents. Very interesting theiraccount of it is, too. If I were thirty years younger--but that is notthe point. They were sent to New York by their chief on privatebusiness; something of importance, but perfectly legitimate,--nothing todo with arms or anything of the kind. Well, Carlos did not tell Rita theobject of his coming, and she instantly saw fire and gunpowder, treasonand plot,--in short, cooked up a whole melodrama to suit herself,--andbelieved it, I have no doubt, an hour after she invented it. She wroteCarlos mysterious letters, imploring him to come to her secretly; thather fate and that of her country depended upon his faithfulness andsilence; that she was surrounded by spies--"
"Poor Peggy and me!" cried Margaret. "And you, too, Uncle John! She hasreally had painful suspicions of you."
"No doubt, no doubt! but in my case she had a right to suspicions. Wewill come to that presently. In short, the boy got the impression thathis sister was immured in a kind of dungeon, surrounded by people whowere unkind to her, and unable to get away or to call for help openly.He says he ought to have known better, for apparently she has beenacting plays ever since she was short-coated; but this time he wasreally taken in, and came here last night, with his friend and cousin,meaning to rescue his sister and take her home to Cuba. Found her notdesiring in the least to be rescued, but bent on hiding them both in thegarret, and keeping them there till a cargo of arms and a vessel couldbe brought from New York. You know the rest. Carlos was in the librarywhen I came up, waiting for an interview with Rita. I think it may be alively one."
"And the other; the cousin? I hardly saw him. They were both soembarrassed, poor dears!"
"Seems a good little fellow; good little fellow enough! Gentlemanlyboys, both of them. Carlos is much more of a person than the other.He--Fernando Sanchez--admires Rita a good deal, I should say, and triesto find her conduct admirable; but her brother--hark!"
Something like a silken whirlwind came rushing up the stairs and acrossthe hall; something that sobbed with fury, and stamped with feet thatwere too small to make much noise; then a door on the other side of thehall shut with a bang that made the solid walls quiver. Margaret and heruncle looked at each other. Presently Peggy came in, with round,frightened eyes.
"What is the matter with Rita?" she asked. "Has she been in here? Shecame flying across the hall just now--oh, dear! I was just coming out ofmy room, and she took me and shook me, just as hard as she could shake.Why, my teeth chattered, Margaret! and then she flung off into her room,and slammed the door. My! she was in a tantrum! Oh, I--I--beg yourpardon!" She faltered at the sight of her uncle, and hung back. She hadonly learned this morning of the astonishing transformation of herfriend the gardener into the unknown and formidable relative.
Mr. Montfort held out his hand, with the smile that always went toPeggy's heart.
"Well, Miss Peggy," he said, "and what roses will you have to-day? Mydear child," he added, seeing that she was really distressed, "you arenot really troubled at my little masquerade? I am going to tell you allabout it soon,--as soon as I can see my three Margarets together. I feelthat I owe you all an explanation. Margaret has already heard part of mystory, and when Rita comes in, as I hope she will do soon,--I sent wordto her that I should be glad to see her here when she had had her talkwith her brother,--we will go over the whole matter, and find out whatJohn Strong and John Montfort have to say for themselves."
He turned the subject, and began to talk of the garden and the flowers,in his usual quiet, cheerful way, till Peggy began to steal shy glancesat him under her eyelashes, and finally to hold her head up and smilewithout looking as if she had stolen a sheep.
They had not long to wait. Before they had settled the position of thenew rose-bed, Rita's door was heard to open softly; then came the soundof trailing garments in slow and stately motion, and the next momentRita entered the room.
She was dressed in deep black from head to foot. A black veil coveredher hair, and hung gracefully from her shoulders, and in her hand shecarried a black fan.
There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale but lovely.Mr. Montfort rose and came forward, holding out his hand. "My dearniece," he said with some formality, "let us shake hands in allfriendliness."
But Rita did not take the outstretched hand. Instead, she folded herhands, and sank down in the deepest and most beautiful courtesy thatever was seen. Her eyes remained downcast, the long lashes resting onher clear, white cheek.
RITA'S APOLOGY.]
"My uncle," she said, and her tone was dignified, pathetic, andresentful, all in one, "I come to make my submission to you, and to askyour pardon for my offences. My brother demands it, and I obey the headof my house, the representative of my father. I pray you to forgive me!"
Mr. Montfort subdued an unruly twinkle in his eyes, and answeredgravely:
"I pardon you, my niece, freely. I beg you to consider the matter as ifit had never existed. My house is yours, and all that it contains; praybe seated."
Rita looked up, startled at hearing in English the phrase of Spanishcourtesy so familiar to her ears; but Mr. Montfort's face wasinscrutable, as he brought forward a chair, and handed her to it as ifshe were a duchess.
But Rita was not ready to sit down yet; she had arranged her scene, andmust go through with it. She advanced, and knelt down by Margaret'scouch. "Marguerite," she said sadly, "you saved my life. It wasvalueless, I have learned; it was not worth the saving; nevertheless Ithank you from my heart of hearts. I--" Here she caught sight of thebandaged hands, which Margaret had been trying to conceal beneath theafghan. Instantly the tragic mask fell from Rita's face, and left a realhuman countenance, full of pity and anxiety. "My dear!" she cried. "Myangel, my poor suffering Marguerite. Ah! you sent me word it wasnothing. You are injured, terribly injured, and by my fault. Ah
! nowCarlos _must_ let me die, as I desire. Life is no longer possible!"
The words were extravagant, but there was real grief and distress in thetone. She laid her head on Margaret's shoulder and sobbed aloud; andPeggy was heartily glad to hear her cry, and cried in sympathy. Margaretcould not stroke the dark head, but she moved her own near it, andwhispered little comforting words, and kissed the soft hair. Andpresently, finding that the sobs only increased in violence, shewhispered to Rita that she was distressing her uncle, and that shereally must try to be quiet on his account. At the sound of his name,Rita froze again, though not to her former degree of rigour; with afervent kiss on Margaret's brow, she rose, and finally took the chairthat had been placed for her. Mr. Montfort sat down opposite, and abrief silence followed. He seemed to be thinking what he should say. Atlength he spoke.
"My dear nieces, this is a day of explanations, and I feel that I oweyou all an explanation of my conduct, which, doubtless, must appearstrange to you. I--well, I suppose I am an eccentric man. I have alwaysbeen considered so, and I confess not without apparent reason. I haveoften been able to justify to myself conduct which has seemed strange toothers; and it has been my misfortune to live so much alone, thatperhaps I may rely too much on this practice of self-justification.
"It is now five years since my friend and cousin, Mrs. Cheriton, came tolive with me. I have been made sensible, by her sweet and graciouspresence, that my life before had been very grim and solitary, and Idetermined that it should be so no more. I also felt that while she wasspared to me it would be a happiness and a benefit to her to have someyoung life about the house; to have, in short, some young and sweetwoman, who could be her companion in a hundred ways that would not bepossible for a solitary bachelor like myself.
"With these thoughts in my mind, I naturally turned to the young womendirectly connected with me,--to the daughters of my brothers. I hadnever seen any of them; troubles into which it is not necessary for meto enter had made me withdraw until lately from all society, and I hadnot felt able to respond to the kind invitations sent me from time totime to visit one brother or another. I conceived the plan of sendingfor you three cousins to spend the summer with me, with the idea that atthe end of the time I might ask one of you--the one who should seem mostcontented, and who should be best suited to a quiet, countrylife--to--a--to remain longer. This was my first plan. Perhaps it mighthave been better if I had adhered to it; but I subsequently modified it,not without a good deal of thought. It would be dull for you, Ireflected--_triste_, as Rita would say,--here with me. A strange uncle,an elderly man, unused to young people, could not fail to be a constantcheck, a constant restraint upon gay and youthful spirits. I wanted youto be happy, so I decided to efface myself for a time, to let you havethe home of your fathers for your own, unhampered by the presence ofits owner."
Margaret made a motion of eager remonstrance, but her uncle checked herwith raised hand.
"One moment, my dear! I now come to John Strong."
Rita raised her eyes to his, full of proud defiance.
"I deceived you!" he went on, answering her look. "I now think it waswrong, and Mrs. Cheriton, I ought to add, was opposed to the plan. Butin the first place my presence here was necessary for many reasons; andin the second place I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you as youreally were, not constrained or on good behaviour, or in any way changedfrom your own true selves. I think I succeeded."
There was a moment's silence, which none of the girls dared to break.
"My name is John Strong Montfort. I have been in the habit of spending apart of every day among my plants and flowers, for reasons of health andpleasure. It was simple enough for me to go from my private rooms to thegarden, to use the private staircase which--a--with which you arefamiliar,"--Peggy winced and Margaret blushed, but Rita continued herdirect gaze at her uncle and gave no sign,--"and to pass (by a way thathas not yet been discovered) to and from the White Rooms. I intended tokeep up this little farce for a few weeks only, but somehow the time hasslipped by, and each day has brought you some new occupation which I wasloath to interrupt. Lately, I confess, there has been a new incentive tosecrecy, and perhaps--Rita--perhaps I may have been boy enough, old as Iam, to enjoy my own little conspiracy. It is over; the play is playedout. I have already made my peace with Margaret, and I think Peggy isprepared to accept my explanation. What do you say?"
Rita had followed every word with breathless attention, her colourcoming and going, her eyes growing momently brighter. Now, at thisdirect appeal, she rose and flung out her arms with the dramatic gestureso familiar to two of her hearers.
"I say?" she repeated. "I say it was magnificent! It was superb!Marguerite, do I exaggerate? It was _inspired_! My uncle, I am preparedto adore you!"
Mr. Montfort looked alarmed, but pleased. Rita went on, glowing withenthusiasm.
"It was perfectly conceived, perfectly carried out! Ah, why were you noton my side? Together, you and I, we could have done--everything!"
"You did not ask me, my dear!" said Mr. Montfort dryly. There was thatin his look that made Rita blush at last. But in her present mood shecould bear anything.
"I beg again your pardon!" she cried. "Uncle, this time I beg for my ownself pardon, of my own will. I was bad, wicked, abominable! Margueritewas right; she is always right! I kneel to you in penitence!"
And she would have knelt down, then and there, if her uncle had notstopped her hastily and positively.
"Give me a kiss instead, my dear!" he said. "We have had heroics enoughfor one day, and we must come down to plain common sense. Rita, Peggy,Margaret,--my three Margaret Montforts,--I wish and mean to love youall." He stooped and kissed each girl on the forehead; but he lingeredby Margaret's side, and laid his hand on her hair with a silent gesturewhich held a blessing in it.
"Margaret, you must rest now!" he said with kind authority. "Rita, wehave left your brother and cousin too long alone. Come with me, and letus see what we can do to make them forget their untoward introduction toFernley House."