Mary Louise

  CHAPTER IV

  SHIFTING SANDS

  Mary Louise hid herself in the drawing-room, where she could watch theclosed door of the library opposite. At times she trembled with anunknown dread; again, she told herself that no harm could possiblybefall her dear, good Gran'pa Jim or her faithful, loving mother. Yetwhy were they closeted in the library so long, and how could themeeting with that insolent stranger affect Colonel Weatherby sostrongly?

  After a long time her mother came out, looking more pallid and harassedthan ever but strangely composed. She kissed Mary Louise, who came tomeet her, and said:

  "Get ready for dinner, dear. We are late."

  The girl went to her room, dazed and uneasy. At dinner her motherappeared at the table, eating little or nothing, but Gran'pa Jim wasnot present. Afterward she learned that he had gone over to MissStearne's School for Girls, where he completed important arrangementsconcerning his granddaughter.

  When dinner was over Mary Louise went into the library and, drawing achair to where the light of the student lamp flooded her book, tried toread. But the words were blurred and her mind was in a sort of chaos.Mamma Bee had summoned Aunt Polly and Uncle Eben to her room, where shewas now holding a conference with the faithful colored servants. Astrange and subtle atmosphere of unrest pervaded the house; Mary Louisescented radical changes in their heretofore pleasant home life, butwhat these changes were to be or what necessitated them she could notimagine.

  After a while she heard Gran'pa Jim enter the hall and hang up his hatand coat and place his cane in the rack. Then he came to the door ofthe library and stood a moment looking hard at Mary Louise. Her owneyes regarded her grandfather earnestly, questioning him as positivelyas if she had spoken.

  He drew a chair before her and leaning over took both her hands in hisand held them fast.

  "My dear," he said gently, "I regret to say that another change hasovertaken us. Have you ever heard of 'harlequin fate'? 'Tis a verybuffoon of mischief and irony that is often permitted to dog ourearthly footsteps and prevent us from becoming too content with ourlot. For a time you and I, little maid, good comrades though we havebeen, must tread different paths. Your mother and I are going away,presently, and we shall leave you here in Beverly, where you maycontinue your studies under the supervision of Miss Stearne, as aboarder at her school. This house, although the rental is paid for sixweeks longer, we shall at once vacate, leaving Uncle Eben and AuntSallie to put it in shape and close it properly. Do you understand allthis, Mary Louise?"

  "I understand what you have told me, Gran'pa Jim. But why--"

  "Miss Stearne will be supplied with ample funds to cover your tuitionand to purchase any supplies you may need. You will have nothing toworry about and so may devote all your energies to your studies."

  "But how long---"

  "Trust me and your mother to watch over your welfare, for you are verydear to us, believe me," he continued, disregarding her interruptions."Do you remember the address of the Conants, at Dorfield?"

  "Of course."

  "Well, you may write to me, or to your mother, once a week, addressingthe letter in care of Peter Conant. But if you are questioned byanyone," he added, gravely, "do not mention the address of the Conantsor hint that I have gone to Dorfield. Write your letters privately andunobserved, in your own room, and post them secretly, by your own hand,so that no one will be aware of the correspondence. Your caution inthis regard will be of great service to your mother and me. Do youthink you can follow these instructions?"

  "To be sure I can, Gran'pa Jim. But why must I---"

  "Some day," said he, "you will understand this seeming mystery and beable to smile at your present perplexities. There is nothing to fear,my dear child, and nothing that need cause you undue anxiety. Keep abrave heart and, whatever happens, have faith in Gran'pa Jim. Yourmother--as good a woman as God ever made--believes in me, and she knowsall. Can you accept her judgment, Mary Louise? Can you steadfastlyignore any aspersions that may be cast upon my good name?"

  "Yes, Gran'pa Jim."

  She had not the faintest idea what he referred to. Not until afterwardwas she able to piece these strange remarks together and make sense ofthem. Just now the girl was most impressed by the fact that her motherand grandfather were going away and would leave her as a boarder withMiss Stearne. The delightful home life, wherein she had passed thehappiest two years of her existence, was to be broken up for good andall.

  "Now I must go to your mother. Kiss me, my dear!"

  As he rose to his feet Mary Louise also sprang from her chair and theColonel folded his arms around her and for a moment held her tight inhis embrace. Then he slowly released her, holding the girl at arms'length while he studied her troubled face with grave intensity. Onekiss upon her upturned forehead and the old man swung around and leftthe room without another word.

  Mary Louise sank into her chair, a little sob in her throat. She feltvery miserable, indeed, at that moment. "Harlequin fate!" she sighed."I wonder why it has chosen us for its victims?"

  After an hour passed in the deserted library she stole away to her ownroom and prepared for bed. In the night, during her fitful periods ofsleep, she dreamed that her mother bent over her and kissed herlips--once, twice, a third time.

  The girl woke with a start. A dim light flooded her chamber, foroutside was a full moon. But the room was habited only by shadows, savefor her own feverish, restless body. She turned over to find a coolerplace and presently fell asleep again.