CHAPTER VIII.
THE DIPLOMAT.
Aunt Jane was in her garden, enjoying the flowers. This was herespecial garden, surrounded by a high-box hedge, and quite distinctfrom the vast expanse of shrubbery and flower-beds which lent so muchto the beauty of the grounds at Elmhurst. Aunt Jane knew and lovedevery inch of her property. She had watched the shrubs personally formany years, and planned all the alterations and the construction ofthe flower-beds which James had so successfully attended to. Eachmorning, when her health permitted, she had inspected the greenhousesand issued her brief orders--brief because her slightest word to theold gardener incurred the fulfillment of her wishes. But this bit ofgarden adjoining her own rooms was her especial pride, and containedthe choicest plants she had been able to secure. So, since she hadbeen confined to her chair, the place had almost attained to thedignity of a private drawing-room, and on bright days she spent manyhours here, delighting to feast her eyes with the rich coloring of theflowers and to inhale their fragrance. For however gruff Jane Merrickmight be to the people with whom she came in contact, she was alwaystender to her beloved flowers, and her nature invariably softened whenin their presence.
By and by Oscar, the groom, stepped through an opening in the hedgeand touched his hat.
"Has my niece arrived?" asked his mistress, sharply.
"She's on the way, mum," the man answered, grinning. "She stoppedoutside the grounds to pick wild flowers, an' said I was to tell youshe'd walk the rest o' the way."
"To pick wild flowers?"
"That's what she said, mum. She's that fond of 'em she couldn'tresist it. I was to come an' tell you this, mum; an' she'll follow medirectly."
Aunt Jane stared at the man sternly, and he turned toward her anunmoved countenance. Oscar had been sent to the station to meet LouiseMerrick, and drive her to Elmhurst; but this strange freak on the partof her guest set the old woman thinking what her object could be. Wildflowers were well enough in their way; but those adjoining the groundsof Elmhurst were very ordinary and unattractive, and Miss Merrick'saunt was expecting her. Perhaps--
A sudden light illumined the mystery.
"See here, Oscar; has this girl been questioning you?"
"She asked a few questions, mum."
"About me?"
"Some of 'em, if I remember right, mum, was about you."
"And you told her I was fond of flowers?"
"I may have just mentioned that you liked 'em, mum."
Aunt Jane gave a scornful snort, and the man responded in a curiousway. He winked slowly and laboriously, still retaining the solemnexpression on his face.
"You may go, Oscar. Have the girl's luggage placed in her room."
"Yes, mum."
He touched his hat and then withdrew, leaving Jane Merrick with afrown upon her brow that was not caused by his seeming impertinence.
Presently a slight and graceful form darted through the opening in thehedge and approached the chair wherein Jane Merrick reclined.
"Oh, my dear, dear aunt!" cried Louise. "How glad I am to see you atlast, and how good of you to let me come here!" and she bent over andkissed the stern, unresponsive face with an enthusiasm delightful tobehold.
"This is Louise, I suppose," said Aunt Jane, stiffly. "You are welcometo Elmhurst."
"Tell me how you are," continued the girl, kneeling beside the chairand taking the withered hands gently in her own. "Do you suffer any?And are you getting better, dear aunt, in this beautiful garden withthe birds and the sunshine?"
"Get up," said the elder woman, roughly. "You're spoiling your gown."
Louise laughed gaily.
"Never mind the gown," she answered. "Tell me about yourself. I'vebeen so anxious since your last letter."
Aunt Jane's countenance relaxed a trifle. To speak of her brokenhealth always gave her a sort of grim satisfaction.
"I'm dying, as you can plainly see," she announced. "My days arenumbered, Louise. If you stay long enough you can gather wild flowersfor my coffin."
Louise flushed a trifle. A bunch of butter-cups and forget-me-nots wasfastened to her girdle, and she had placed a few marguerites in herhair.
"Don't laugh at these poor things!" she said, deprecatingly. "I'm sofond of flowers, and we find none growing wild in the cities, youknow."
Jane Merrick looked at her reflectively.
"How old are you, Louise," she asked.
"Just seventeen, Aunt."
"I had forgotten you are so old as that. Let me see; Elizabeth cannotbe more than fifteen."
"Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth De Graf, your cousin. She arrived at Elmhurst this morning,and will be your companion while you are here."
"That is nice," said Louise.
"I hope you will be friends."
"Why not, Aunt? I haven't known much of my relations in the past, youknow, so it pleases me to find an aunt and a cousin at the same time.I am sure I shall love you both. Let me fix your pillow--you do notseem comfortable. There! Isn't that better?" patting the pillowdeftly. "I'm afraid you have needed more loving care than a paidattendant can give you," glancing at old Martha Phibbs, who stood somepaces away, and lowering her voice that she might not be overheard."But for a time, at least, I mean to be your nurse, and look afteryour wants. You should have sent for me before, Aunt Jane."
"Don't trouble yourself; Phibbs knows my ways, and does all that isrequired," said the invalid, rather testily. "Run away, now, Louise.The housekeeper will show you to your room. It's opposite Elizabeth's,and you will do well to make her acquaintance at once. I shall expectyou both to dine with me at seven."
"Can't I stay here a little longer?" pleaded Louise. "We haven'tspoken two words together, as yet, and I'm not a bit tired or anxiousto go to my room. What a superb oleander this is! Is it one of yourfavorites, Aunt Jane?"
"Run away," repeated the woman. "I want to be alone."
The girl sighed and kissed her again, stroking the gray hair softlywith her white hand.
"Very well; I'll go," she said. "But I don't intend to be treated asa strange guest, dear Aunt, for that would drive me to return home atonce. You are my father's eldest sister, and I mean to make you loveme, if you will give me the least chance to do so."
She looked around her, enquiringly, and Aunt Jane pointed a bonyfinger at the porch.
"That is the way. Phibbs will take you to Misery, the housekeeper, andthen return to me. Remember, I dine promptly at seven."
"I shall count the minutes," said Louise, and with a laugh and agraceful gesture of adieu, turned to follow Martha into the house.
Jane Merrick looked after her with a puzzled expression upon her face.
"Were she in the least sincere," she muttered, "Louise might prove avery pleasant companion. But she's not sincere; she's coddling me towin my money, and if I don't watch out she'll succeed. The girl's aborn diplomat, and weighed in the balance against sincerity, diplomacywill often tip the scales. I might do worse than to leave Elmhurst toa clever woman. But I don't know Beth yet. I'll wait and see whichgirl is the most desirable, and give them each an equal chance."