Rebecca's Promise

  CHAPTER XIII

  Granny was very much surprised when they trooped in to tell her that atennis ball had just found Joan's father, and that he was not a Germanbut a good Luxembourger. The width of a river had kept him from being aGerman. Granny knew little more of Luxembourg than Rebecca Mary, but she"oh'd" and "ah'd" before she looked at Frederick Befort and said slowly:

  "You are quite sure you are from the Luxembourg side of that river?"

  Frederick Befort's eyes never wavered as he looked at her. "Quite sure.There was a time when I regretted that I did not belong on the otherside of the river. You know I went to school in Germany, in Bonn, and Ihad many German friends. The old emperor was a friend of mygrandfather's. I was named for him; and the present emperor has visitedus at Echternach."

  "That is why he made you an eagle, isn't it?" Joan broke in, eager tohave a share in these interesting explanations.

  "Indirectly, yes." He smiled at her as she stood beside him. "I was ableto arrange a very successful wild boar hunt and the kaiser was sopleased that he decorated me. He was with us for several days and madeexcursions all over the duchy. It was as if he wished to learn everyroad and mountain path. We thought nothing of it then, fools that wewere! I even put on the Prussian uniform of one of the officers and woreit at the costume ball that my wife gave in his honor." So that was whyhe had been photographed in a Prussian uniform. Rebecca Mary's eyescrinkled. "There always has been a close relation between Luxembourg andGermany," he went on, and a frown chased the smile from his face."Before our present grand duchess came to the throne German influencewas supreme, most of our trade was with Germany, our railroads weredeveloped with German money and by Germans, but in our hearts we had nolove for Germany. And then came the day when the German army would havemarched through the duchy and our grand duchess, brave little MarieLouise Adelheid, motored out to forbid them to use her country as athoroughfare. She had her car turned across the road to bar theirentrance, and the German officers laughed at her. Laughed at her,madame! They told her to go home. What could Marie Louise Adelheid do?We had an army of three hundred, only a palace guard and a militaryband," he laughed bitterly. "We were not soldiers, we were farmers.Germany knew that. And our little grand duchess had to go home. It wouldhave been useless to resist. Germany would have devastated Luxembourg asshe devastated Belgium. But I have it in my heart to wish that we hadresisted, that we had fought and died as the Belgians did. The Germanshave used Luxembourg as they pleased. For fifty years our capital wasgarrisoned by German troops. They left an odious memory and the Germansoldiers who have swarmed over the duchy since 1914 are even moreodious. No, madame, you need not ask. No people hate Germany as do we ofLuxembourg."

  His words sounded brave and true, and his face looked brave and true.His eyes flashed fire. It was easy to believe that he would rather havefought and died than to have yielded to the German hordes.

  "We are small," he said more quietly, "but we are rich. Germany wantedus, she wanted our iron, our factories, but she did not get them. No!You see, madame, I have changed my mind. I no longer believe that I wasborn on the wrong side of the Sure. I thank God now that there is noGerman blood in my veins!"

  "You should," nodded Granny, "Men of German blood, and women, too, willhave to pay a fearful price for their nationality, the price of a worldhatred. That is a dreadful thing, to be hated by a whole world." Sheshivered as she thought what a dreadful thing it would be.

  "How can it be otherwise?" Frederick Befort shrugged his shoulders. "Ifyou had seen what I have seen----" He broke off with a shudder.

  Granny leaned forward and put her hand on his. "It is strange that weshould find you here," she said after a moment. "Providence has queerways of bringing people together. It would have seemed easier to haveintroduced us that afternoon we were all in the Viking room at theWaloo."

  "On my birthday," Joan whispered to her father, "Miss Wyman was thereand Granny Simmons and young Mr. Simmons, and, oh, everybody."

  "It might have been easier but would it have been as thrilling?" RebeccaMary was almost faint from the thrills of the afternoon. "We might neverhave had such wonderful times if we had met that day at the Waloo." Shedrew a long breath as she thought of the wonderful times which hadfollowed that tea hour.

  Granny smiled at her, so did young Peter and Frederick Befort, andunconsciously they all promised Rebecca Mary more wonderful times.Enthusiasm does make people so much more generous than quiet acceptance.

  "Then, perhaps Joan is right and you are really Count Ernach de Befort?"laughed Granny. "We thought the child was romancing."

  "Yes, in Luxembourg I am a count but in America I like best to be justMr. Befort." And Mr. Befort looked almost apologetic.

  For the first time in her life Rebecca Mary knew what it was to be apopular girl. As she had told Granny, since she had been in Waloo shehad known no men over eight years of age and while the boys in her thirdgrade were interesting and dear they were young. Here at Riverside,where she was a prisoner, Rebecca Mary found three most attractive menof exactly the right age, Peter Simmons, Wallace Marshall and GeorgeBarton, and one very fascinating older man, Frederick Befort, who was acount in his own country, a country which Rebecca Mary scarcely knew byname.

  Busy as the men were over the experiment which was to be such a boon tothe world, they found many hours in which to walk with Rebecca Mary, toplay tennis with her, to talk with her, to dance with her while thevictrola played a new fox trot, or to ride with her around the farm onthe fat horses which Peter borrowed from the farmer. Each one of themshowed Rebecca Mary very plainly that there was no other girl in hisworld, as indeed there wasn't just then, and Rebecca Mary, to herundying astonishment, discovered that she could flirt and play one managainst another as well as any woman. She scarcely had time to recordthe payments on her memory insurance policy she was so busy making them.

  And if the three younger men admired her for her youth and sex and gayenthusiasm, Frederick Befort revered her for her kindness to Joan. Whenhe was not absorbed in the experiment or at the shop, where he workedwith a detached interest to the world around him, which would have madeGranny and Rebecca Mary understand many things about Joan which they hadnot understood, he had to think of what might have happened if RebeccaMary had not accepted the loan of Joan. His gratitude was sometimesembarrassing and always thrilling to Rebecca Mary, who often had topinch herself to make sure that she really was Rebecca Mary Wyman. Shetold herself a dozen times a day that, of course, it was because she wasthe only girl at Riverside that every one was so perfectly wonderful toher, but she liked to pretend that it was because she was so beautifuland fascinating. At heart Rebecca Mary was not a bit conceited. Her lifenever had let her accumulate enough vanity to balance on the point of apin. And if you had told her that really she was very pretty and verycharming she would have laughed at you.

  She liked them all, even old Major Martingale, whom she had identifiedas the short, stout, red-faced man who had consumed such quantities ofhot buttered toast that afternoon at the Waloo. She discovered thatWallie Marshall and George Barton had been in the tea room on thatmemorable afternoon also and it did seem strange, as Granny had saidthat Fate should bring them together again in this fashion. Never for amoment did Rebecca Mary suspect that Major Martingale had slipped thefour-leaf clover into her hand, but she did wonder if one of the othershad. She did not want to ask them outright, that would have ended,perhaps spoiled, the delightful mystery. She would have to wait and thewaiting was proving very enjoyable. Once Rebecca Mary had hoped that itwas Peter who had given her the talisman but now she wished it wasFrederick Befort. It would be so romantic when she was sixty to rememberthat it had been Count Ernach de Befort. Dear me, but Rebecca Mary wasglad that Cousin Susan had been so foolish as to spend her kitchencurtains for two cups of tea.

  And while Rebecca Mary was the belle of Riverside, Granny took the restcure.

  "It's a heaven sent chance," she told Rebecca Mary and Peter. "I was insuch a whirl all th
rough the war that I'm still wound up in a hard knot.I'm sorry we didn't get to Seven Pines but I'll just rest here for a fewdays and perhaps I'll be in a good condition to enjoy my goldenwedding."

  "Grandfather----" began Peter, but she cut him short.

  "Don't say grandfather to me, Peter Simmons. When you've been marriedfifty years less a few weeks you'll understand more than yourgrandfather ever understood if I know anything of the modern girl. Won'the, Rebecca Mary?"

  "I don't know how much his grandfather understands." Rebecca Mary wasproving every day what a help she would be to a diplomatic corps.

  "He doesn't understand anything about women," grumbled Granny.

  She did not come down to breakfast but let Rebecca Mary take a tray toher room and after she had eaten her berries and toast and drunk hercoffee she exchanged her bed for a couch in the sun room, where shedozed until luncheon, when she appeared in the dining room to bereceived like a queen. A nap over a novel filled the afternoon, andafter dinner she always played three games of double Canfield with MajorMartingale, who frowned blackly over the first game, was puzzled at thesecond and smiled broadly at the third, which Granny always let him win.

  "That keeps him in a good humor," she explained to Rebecca Mary. "Menhave to be managed even over a game of cards."

  She took Rebecca Mary over the house and showed her the original partwhich had been built by the great grandfather of Richard and JoshuaCabot.

  "He was one of the big pioneers of the northwest," she said. "He camefrom Pennsylvania in the early forties as an Indian trader. Later hewent into the transportation business. He used wagons first, those queerRed River carts. You've seen them at state celebrations?" Rebecca Marynodded. She remembered the quaint two-wheeled squeaky carts if shedidn't remember the Cabots. "Old Mr. Cabot built here when the state wasstill a territory, and from an historical standpoint I suppose thereisn't a more interesting house in the northwest. Councils of war,political rallies, balls, celebrations of every sort were held in theserooms. He entertained all the important people who came to thenorthwest. His wife was the daughter of a rival French trader, andJoshua Cabot's grandfather was prouder of his French blood than he wasof what his father had done to open up a new country. I think Richard islike the old Pennsylvanian," she went on thoughtfully. "More so thanJoshua or any of the others. I expect he will do something big someday."

  "I should say he has done something big already," exclaimed RebeccaMary, rather surprised to find herself championing Richard Cabot. "Therearen't many men of his age who are vice-presidents of a bank like theFirst National. And Peter told me how splendid he was at selling Libertybonds."

  "That's true," admitted Granny soberly, and she carefully hid thetwinkle in her eyes from Rebecca Mary. "And banks and bonds are not theonly things that interest Richard. I used to think they were. Butthey're not."

  "Yes?" questioned Rebecca Mary politely, but she was too polite, and toounconcerned. Granny refused to tell her what, with stocks and bonds,shared Richard's interest. Rebecca Mary had to guess what Granny meant.It was astonishing how often they talked of Richard, or would have beenastonishing if they had not been prisoners in Richard'sgreat-grandfather's old house.

  No one came to Riverside as one day ran after another. They were quietand restful days for Granny, but far from quiet or restful to RebeccaMary and Joan. Joan made friends with the farmer's wife and the farmer'seight months' old baby and a maltese cat, and she deserted Rebecca Maryfor the farmhouse. There were chickens at the farmhouse which Joan wasallowed to feed if Mrs. Erickson did not have to say "don't" too manytimes, and a shaggy dog and a flock of young turkeys as well as thebaby, which Joan was permitted to hold if she was sure that her handswere clean.

  Bread and milk may be a healthy change from lobster a la Newburg andchiffonade salad, but to a palate accustomed to the rich food a simplefare soon palls. Before many days Granny began to feel so rested thatshe was not satisfied to lie in the sun room and doze. She began towonder what old Peter Simmons was doing, what he had said when Piersondelivered her message the night he came home on the eleven fifty-fiveand found her gone, and to wonder last of all if she had been wise torun away. Her conscience began to prick and prick hard. At last she wentto Sallie Cabot's pretty writing table.

  "My dear old Peter," she began, "of course Pierson told you that I had left for Seven Pines with a couple of young friends. I did not wait to see you for several reasons. If you take time to think you will know why I felt that I had to go to Seven Pines just now. Do take care of yourself. I shall die if anything should happen to spoil our golden wedding. I've looked forward to it for over fifty years."

  She signed herself "Your affectionate wife," with a little grunt andsigh and then she carefully tore the "Riverside" mark from the paper.She folded her letter and put it in a plain envelop, which she inclosedin a second envelop, which was addressed to the housekeeper at SevenPines. She gave the letter to Peter and told him that as he hadbothered her so unceasingly she had written to his grandfather and theletter could be sent if it could go by way of Seven Pines.

  Peter seemed quite sure he could have it sent that way. "Good work,Granny!" He patted her shoulder approvingly. "You won't be sorry," hepromised.

  "I hope I shan't," sighed Granny.

  "She's a good old sport," Peter told Rebecca Mary when he had his turnfor a dance or a walk and they chose a walk down by the river. "Ihonestly didn't think she'd do it, but she did. Of course----" Hestopped suddenly and called her attention to the hollyhocks, like pinkand white sentinels.

  Rebecca Mary was not to be diverted by pink or white hollyhocks. "Yes?You were saying----"

  "Nothing, that is, nothing of any consequence," he told her hurriedly."I say what was old Wallie telling you before dinner that made you bothhowl? I haven't heard a good joke for some time and that must have beena scream from the way you two chortled."

  But if Peter wouldn't tell her she wouldn't tell him. "I don't feel atliberty to repeat Mr. Marshall's jokes," she said very loftily.

  "Now you're testy and it isn't my fault. I say, you know, you're notthe girl you were in Waloo," reproachfully. "You wouldn't have explodedat nothing in Waloo," he complained.

  It was only the truth. Rebecca Mary was not the same girl she had beenin Waloo. She knew it as well as he did and laughed triumphantly. Shewas so glad she was not that old scowling shabby Waloo girl. The softlow laugh rather went to Peter's head. He put out his hand and tookRebecca Mary's fingers in his warm palm.

  "I say," he began a bit huskily, "you shouldn't look at a fellow likethat. You--you----"

  "Yes?" Rebecca Mary dared him with a racing heart.

  "Hi there, Simmons! Miss Wyman!" shouted a voice behind them and therewas Wallie Marshall, all indignation. "You think a fat lot of yourself,don't you?" he said to Peter with some heat, "to run off with all thepartners at this dance. What do you think you are? Come this way, MissWyman. I found a corking place among the willows this afternoon when Iwas fishing. Let us see how it looks by moonlight."

  "It looks beautiful," Rebecca Mary told him when they had found thecorking place. She had been rather glad to run away with him from Peter.As soon as she had dared Peter she was sorry, afraid, for a girl neverknows what will happen when she dares a man. "All shined up with thebest silver polish. It should be inhabited by fairies."

  "I guess there isn't any fairy that has anything on you," stammeredWallie. "You make a fellow like me feel so clumsy and rough."

  "Clumsy! Rough! You!" The three exclamations told his scarlet ears thatRebecca Mary did not think he was either the one or the other.

  He drew closer. "I say, you're a wonder, all right. My word!" He drew adeep breath. "But I'm glad you dropped in here. Just imagine if we hadnever met!" He couldn't imagine it. It was too horrible.

  "We might have run across each other somewhere else," suggested RebeccaMary. "The Waloo tea room perhaps. Strange things have happened there."She giggled as she remembered one
of the strange things.

  He shook his head. "No other place would be like this, where I can seesuch a lot of you. I hope you don't think it's too much?" He was seizedwith a sudden fear. "I don't bore you, do I?"

  She assured him that he didn't. He hadn't bored her for a second. Hebeamed, but he could not leave well enough alone.

  "Then you like to be with me as much as with Simmons?" he askedjealously.

  "Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Wyman," advised George Barton, who hadcome up behind them. "Cut along, Wallie. You're through."

  "Through!" shouted the indignant Wallie.

  George turned away from him. "Strange effect the moonlight has, MissWyman. See that bush over there? Doesn't it cast a shadow like afool's-cap on the head of our friend, Wallie?"

  She laughed, she couldn't help it, and when he heard her Wallie groanedand walked away.

  "This is better." George twisted himself on the garden seat so that hecould look up into Rebecca Mary's dimpling face. "Gee, but we have had aday!"

  "Didn't things go well?" Rebecca Mary knew no more about the work whichtook the men over to the shop and sent them back to her than she did theday she had come to Riverside, but she always was interested to hearthem mention it.

  "Oh, yes, well enough, but don't let's talk about that now that I havefound the girl and the time and the place. Moonlight is awfully becomingto you, Miss Wyman, you should always wear it. It makes you shimmer andsparkle."

  "Too bad I can't buy a few yards to put away."

  "You don't really need it. I've seen you sparkle quite fetchingly in thesunlight. You know you're different from any girl I ever knew," he wenton with a curious wonder that he had found Rebecca Mary so different.

  "In what way?" Rebecca Mary always had thought that she was differentand, oh, how she wanted to be like other girls.

  "In what way?" he repeated as if it should be as plain to her as it wasto him. "Why, other girls--other girls are just nowhere beside you!"

  "Oh!" Rebecca Mary was quite willing to be unlike other girls in the waydescribed by his deep drawn breath and flushed face, but she looked athim provokingly and murmured sadly: "That might be taken in two ways."

  Before he could tell her that it most certainly could be taken in butone way, Joan pushed through the shrubbery to announce excitedly thatBen had made some ice cold lemonade and if they wanted any they hadbetter run, for Mr. Marshall said he was thirsty from his head to hisheels, and Mr. Marshall was six feet three inches tall and the lemonadepitcher wasn't more than eighteen inches. Mr. Marshall had said so. Ascant eighteen inches, he had said.

  "Mercy, mercy, Joan!" Rebecca Mary caught her hand. "Let's fly!"

  And away they dashed by the snapdragons, by the foxgloves and thehollyhocks, by the pool to the rose tangled terrace where thesix-foot-three Mr. Marshall waited triumphantly beside the scanteighteen-inch lemonade pitcher.

  Frederick Befort waited there, too, and when Rebecca Mary, pink andbreathless, murmured something about the roses, he drew her into afragrant corner to tell her of the wonderful roses which have madeLuxembourg famous, for there are roses everywhere, climbing the gardenwalls, the houses, the battlements and the towers. It made her flush andsigh to hear of the beauty of that rose garlanded city, and suddenly heflushed, too, and began hurriedly to talk of the eight hundred primaryschools in which education is compulsory, for education is much thoughtof in the little duchy. And later, oh, much later, as Rebecca Marybrushed her hair before the mirror, she told her smiling reflection thatshe never had realized what a fascinating subject education could be.