Rilla of the Lighthouse

  CHAPTER XLI. MURIEL HEARS FROM HER FATHER.

  Once again it was spring. The trees about High Cliffs Seminary were palegreen and pink with unfolding fresh young leaves and in the orchard backof the school the cherry, peach and apple trees were huge bouquets offragrant bloom, spreading a feast for the bees that hummed cheerily amongthe flowers. Now and then a meadow lark sent its shaft of song rejoicingthrough the sunlit morning from somewhere beyond the tennis courts wherethree girls were playing, with but little animation, however, as thefirst real spring weather was too warm to be invigorating.

  "I wish we knew what has happened to sadden our Rilla," Catherine Lambertsaid when, the set having been finished, the girls sat on a bench torest.

  "She came back to school after the Christmas holidays so joyous that Ithought some wonderful thing had happened like a romance or----"

  "A romance and Muriel not yet eighteen years of age!" This protestinglyfrom Faith. But Catherine, heeding not the interruption, continued: "Butthat could not have been it, for now she seems very sad. I should thinkthat you two girls who are so intimate with her might ask what hashappened. Surely she is troubled about something."

  "I wish I could _truly_ say that I have noticed no change in Muriel," Joyremarked, as she looked meditatively toward the orchard; "but I cannot,for she is changed. She studies harder than ever before, if that canpossibly be. Miss Gordon told me that she had never known a pupil at HighCliffs to make such progress."

  "I wonder if Miss Gordon knows what is troubling Muriel? I am sure thatshe would, if anyone did," Faith said, but Joy shook her head. "No, MissGordon does not know, for last week she asked me to come to her apartmentat an hour when Muriel was occupied in the music room and she asked me ifI had noticed a change in Rilla, and if so, had I any idea what hadoccasioned it. I said that we all realized that Muriel seemed sad, butthat we did not know the reason. Then Miss Gordon declared that she wouldwrite Doctor Winslow, who has been in the South for a month with apatient, and ask him what he thought might be troubling his ward. If thissource of possible information fails, Miss Gordon will ask Rillaherself."

  While these three friends were discussing Muriel as they sat out by thetennis court, that maiden was seated alone beneath the little pine treethat had been her comforter in those first lonely days before she hadbecome acquainted at High Cliffs. In her hand she held a letter and therewere unshed tears in her eyes. Although her Uncle Barney's name wassigned at the close of the missive, Muriel knew that Molly had penned itfor him.

  "Dearie," the girl read, "there's no news yet, though it does seem likethere ought to be. Here 'tis May and the letter we wrote was sent lastDecember. Folks do say, 'no news is good news,' but I reckon this time,colleen, 'tisn't so. If your father was living he'd have sent some sortof an answer. It would be going against nature not to.

  "If he hadn't lost the letter with the address on it, or if we couldremember it, we'd write again. 'Twas a name I'd never heard before, norhad Molly. I reckon that old letter got into the stove, somehow, and sothere's no way to write again. Seems like I can never forgive myself ifthe fault is mine. Your loving Uncle Barney."

  So, after all, the dream ended. Muriel was never to know the father shehad loved so long. With a sigh that was half a sob, she arose and walkedslowly back toward the school, when she saw one of the younger pupilsracing toward her.

  "Muriel Storm, you're wanted in the parlor. There's someone to see you.It's a man and he's elegant looking."

  Muriel's heart leaped. Could it be that her father had come, after all?

  When Muriel appeared in the doorway of the reception room, Miss Gordonrose, as did the man who was at her side.

  Advancing with outstretched hands, the principal said: "Dear girl, whydidn't you tell me about it? I wasn't at all prepared for the messagethat this gentleman has brought to us." Then turning to the man, who wasgazing with unconcealed interest at the tall, beautiful girl, Miss Gordonadded: "Muriel, this is Mr. Templeton of London. He has come at therequest of your father, who is not strong enough just now to make thevoyage, and, if you desire, you are to return with Mr. Templeton at once.Your passage has been engaged on a steamship leaving Hoboken tomorrow atdaybreak."

  The girl gazed from one to the other as though scarcely able tocomprehend. Then, slowly, a light dawned in her clear hazel eyes and shesaid: "My father, my own father, he wants me?"

  Mr. Templeton was deeply moved and stepping forward he took both hands ofthe girl as he said sincerely:

  "Indeed, Miss Muriel, he does want you. I never saw a man more affectedthan he was when he learned that he had a daughter living. He wanted tocome to you at once, but he has been ill and his physician advisedagainst the voyage as the sea is none too quiet in the spring. And so Ihave been sent to accompany you to your father if you will trust me."

  The girl's questioning gaze turned toward Miss Gordon, who smilinglynodded. "It is right, dear, that you should go," she said. "I havetelephoned to Dr. Winslow and he will be here this afternoon. Now you hadbetter go to your room. I will send a maid to help you pack."

  Upon leaving the reception room Muriel had gone at once in search of herbest friends and had found them all in Joy's room.

  "We've been hunting for you everywhere," Faith said. "We wanted you tomake a fourth on the courts, but you were nowhere about, so we had toplay alone."

  Then the speaker paused and gazed intently at the morning glow in theface of her friend. "Why, Muriel," she exclaimed, "of late you haveseemed troubled, but now you are radiant. Tell us what has happened."

  Although every moment was needed for preparing for departure, Murielpaused long enough to tell these, her dearest friends, that at last herown father had been found.

  "Rilla, it's like a chapter in a story-book, isn't it?" Joy exclaimed."Don't you feel strange and unreal?"

  Muriel laughed. "I suppose that I do, but girls, I haven't time now tofeel anything, for I must pack and be ready to leave for New York on theevening boat. Uncle Lem is going to keep me at the hospital tonight, andI am to meet my escort at Hoboken tomorrow morning before daybreak."

  It had been a whirl of a day and when at last came the hour for partingwith Miss Gordon and the girls who had been such loyal friends, Murielsuddenly realized that, though she was to gain much, she also was losingmuch.

  "I don't believe anything in the world could take me from you all butjust my father," she said.

  "I'll prophesy that you'll see us soon," Miss Gordon said briskly, forshe knew the tears were near. Luckily the whistle of the boat at thatmoment warned the friends that they must go ashore, but they stood on thedock and waved until the small craft was out of sight.

  Then it was that Muriel recalled a letter that Miss Widdemere had givenher at the last moment. Taking it from her coat pocket, she saw that itwas from Gene, who was again in London.