the fortunes of oliver horn-第59章

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ion。　I　see　it　differently　now。　I　have　worked　with　all　my　might　all　summer；　and　I　have　brought　back　a　whole　lot　of　sketches　that　the　boys　like。　Now　I　am　going　to　work　again　with　Mr。　Slade。　I　do　not　like　his　work；　and　I　do　love　mine；　but　I　am　going　to　stick　to　his　all　the　same。　I　have　got　something　　to　work　for　now；〃　and　his　face　brightened。　〃I　am　going　to　win！〃

She　did　not　interrupt　him。　It　was　better　he　should　unburden　his　heart。　She　was　satisfied　with　his　record；　if　he　went　wrong　she　only　was　to　blame。　But　he　was　not　going　wrong；　nor　was　there　anything　　to　worry　aboutnot　even　his　artnot　so　long　as　he　kept　his　place　with　Mr。　Slade　and　only　took　it　up　as　a　relaxation　from　more　weighty　cares。　It　was　only　the　girl　that　caused　her　a　moment's　thought。

She　saw　too；　through　all　his　outburst；　a　certain　　independence　and　a　fearlessness　and　a　certain　fixedness　　of　purpose　that　sent　an　exultant　thrill　through　her　even　when　her　heart　was　burdened　with　the　thought　of　this　new　danger　that　threatened　him。　She　had　sent　him　away　for　the　fault　of　instability；　and　he　had　overcome　it。　Should　she　not　now　hold　fast；　as　she　had　before；　and　save　him　the　second　time　from　this　girl　who　was　beneath　him　in　station　and　who　would　drag　him　down　to　her　level；　and　so　perhaps　　ruin　him？

〃We　will　not　talk　any　more　about　it　to…night；　my　son；〃　she　said；　in　tender　tones；　leaning　forward　and　kissing　him　on　the　cheekit　was　through　his　affections　　that　she　controlled　him。　〃You　should　be　tired　out　with　your　day's　journey　and　ought　to　rest。　Take　my　advicedo　not　ask　her　to　be　your　wife　yet。　Think　about　it　a　little　and　see　some　other　women　before　you　make　up　your　mind。〃

A　delicious　tremor　passed　through　Oliver。　He　HAD　asked　her；　and　she　HAD　promised！　He　remembered　　just　the　very　day；　the　hour；　the　minute。　That　was　the　bliss　of　it　all！　But　this　he　did　not　tell　his　mother。　He　would　not　hurt　her　any　further　now。　Some　other　day　he　would　tell　her；　when　she　could　see　Madge　and　judge　for　herself。　No；　not　to…night；　and　so　with　the　secret　untold　he　kissed　her　and　led　her　to　her　room。

And　yet　strange　to　say　it　was　the　one　only　thing　in　all　his　life　that　he　had　kept　from　her。

Ah！　these　mothers！　who　make　lovers　of　their　only　sons；　dominating　their　lives！　How　bitter　must　be　the　hours　when　they　realize　that　another's　arms　are　opening　for　them！

And　these　boyswhat　misgivings　come；　what　doubts。　How　the　old　walls；　impregnable　from　childhood；　　begin　to　crumble！　How　little　now　the　dear　mother　knowsshe　so　wise　but　a　few　moons　since。　How　this　new　love　steps　in　front　of　the　old　love　and　claims　every　part　of　the　boy　as　its　very　own。


Faithful　to　her　promise；　Miss　Clendenning　waited　the　next　morning　for　Oliver　in　her　little　boudoir　that　opened　out　of　the　library。　A　bright　fire　blazed　and　crackled；　sending　its　beams　dancing　over　the　room　and　lighting　up　the　red　curtains　that　hung　behind　her　writing…desk；　its　top　covered　with　opened　lettersher　morning's　mail：　many　bore　foreign　postmarks；　and　not　a　few　were　emblazoned　with　rampant　　crests　sunk　in　little　dabs　of　colored　wax。　She　wore　a　morning　gown　of　soft　white　flannel　belted　in　at　the　waist。　Covering　her　head　and　wound　loosely　about　her　throat　was　a　fluff　of　transparent　silk；　half…　concealing　the　two　nests　of　little　gray　and　brown　knots　impaled　on　hair…pins。　These　were　the　chrysalides　　of　those　gay　butterfly　side…curls　which　framed　her　sweet　face　at　night　and　to　which　she　never　gave　wing　until　after　luncheon；　no　matter　who　called。　The　silk　scarf　that　covered　them　this　morning　was　in　recognition　of　Oliver's　sex。

She　had　finished　her　breakfast　and　was　leaning　forward　　in　her　rocking…chair；　her　elbows　on　her　knees；　her　tiny　feet　resting　on　the　fender。　She　was　watching　　the　fire…fairies　at　work　building　up　their　wonderful　　palaces　of　molten　gold　studded　with　opals　and　rubies。　The　little　lady　must　have　been　in　deep　thought；　for　she　did　not　know　Oliver　had　entered　until　she　felt　his　arm　on　her　shoulder。

〃Ah；　you　dear　fellow。　No；　not　there；　sit　right　here　on　this　cricket　by　my　side。　Stop；　do　not　say　a　word。　I　have　been　studying　it　all　out　in　these　coals。　I　know　all　about　itit　is　about　the　mountain　girl；　thiswhat　do　you　call　her？〃

〃Miss　Grant。〃

〃Nonsense！　What　do　YOU　call　her？〃

〃Madge。〃

〃Ah；　that's　something　like　it。　And　you　love　her？〃

〃Yes。〃　（Pianissimo。）

〃And　she　loves　you？〃

〃YES。〃　（Forte。）

〃And　you　have　told　her　so？〃

〃YES！〃　（Fortissimo。）

〃Whew！〃　Miss　Clendenning　caught　her　breath　and　gave　a　little　gasp。　〃Well；　upon　my　word！　You　don't　seem　to　have　lost　any　time；　my　young　Romeo。　What　does　her　father　say？〃

〃He　doesn't　know　anything　about　it。〃

〃Does　anybody　except　you　two　babes　in　the　wood？〃

〃Yes；　her　mother。〃

〃And　yours？　You　told　her　last　night。　I　knew　you　would。〃

〃Not　everything；　but　she　is　all　upset。〃

〃Of　course　she　is。　So　am　I。　Now　tell　meis　she　a　LADY？〃

〃She　is　the　dearest；　sweetest　girl　you〃

〃Come　now；　come　now；　answer　me。　They　are　all　the　dearest　and　sweetest　things　in　the　world。　What　I　want　to　know　is；　is　she　a　lady？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃True　now；　Olliehonest？〃

〃Yes；　in　every　sense　of　the　word。　A　woman　you　would　love　and　be　proud　of　the　moment　you　saw　her。〃

Miss　Clendenning　took　his　face　in　her　hands　and　looked　down　into　his　eyes。　〃I　believe　you。　Now　what　do　you　want　me　to　do？〃

〃I　want　her　to　come　down　here　so　everybody　can　see　her。　If　I　had　a　sister　she　could　invite　her；　and　it　would　be　all　right；　and　maybe　then　her　mother　would　let　her　come。〃

〃And　you　want　me　to　play　the　sister　and　have　her　come　here？〃

Oliver's　fingers　closed　tight　over　Miss　Clendenning's　　hand。　〃Oh；　Midget；　if　you　only　would；　that　would　fix　everything。　Mother　would　understand　then　why　I　love　her；　and　Madge　could　go　back　and　tell　her　people　about　us。　Her　father　is　very　bitter　against　everybody　at　the　South。　They　would　feel　differently　if　Madge　could　stay　a　week　with　us。〃

〃Why　won't　her　father　bring　her？〃

〃He　never　leaves　home。　He　would　not　even　take　her　to　the　mountains；　fifteen　miles　away。　She　could　never　paint　as　she　does　if　she　had　relied　upon　him。　Mother　and　Mr。　Grant　are　both　alike　in　their　hatred　of　art　as　a　fitting　profession　for　anybody；　and　I　tell　you　that　they　are　both　wrong。〃

Miss　Clendenning　looked　up　in　surprise。　She　had　never　seen　the　boy　take　a　stand　of　this　kind　against　one　of　his　mother's　opinions。　Oliver　saw　the　expression　　on　the　little　lady's　face　and　kept　on；　his　cheeks　flushed　and　a　set　look　about　his　eyes。

〃Yes；　wrong。　I　have　never　believed　mother　could　be　wrong　in　anything　before；　and　when　she　wanted　me　to　give　up　painting　I　did　so　because　I　thought　she　knew　best。　But　I　know　she's　not　right　about　Madge；　and　if　she　is　wrong　about　her；　how　do　I　know　she　was　not　wrong　about　my　working　with　Mr。　Crocker？〃

Margaret's　words　that　day　in　the　bark　slant　were　now　ringing　in　his　ears。　He　had　never　forgotten　them〃Your　mother　cannot　coddle　you　up　forever。〃

Miss　Clendenning　held　her　peace。　She　was　not　astonished　at　the　revolt　in　the　boy's　mind。　She　had　seen　for　months　past　in　his　letters　that　Oliver's　　individuality　was　asserting　itself。　It　was　the　new　girl　whom　he　was　defendingthe　woman　he　loved。　This　had　given　him　strength。　She　knew　something　of　what　he　felt；　and　she　knew　what　blind　obedience　had　done　for　her。　With　a　half…smothered　sigh；　she　reached　over　Oliver's　head；　dipped　a　quill　pen　in　her　inkstand；　and　at　Oliver's　dictation；　wrote　Margaret's　address。

〃I　will　invite　her　at　once；〃　she　said。

Long　after　Oliver　had　gone　Miss　Clendenning　sat　looking　into　the　fire。　The　palaces　of　rose　and　amber　that　the　busy　fingers　of　the　fire　fairies　had　built　up　in　the　white　heat　of　their　enthusiasm　were　in　ruins。　The　light　had　gone　out。　Only　gray　ashes　remained；　with　here　and　there　a　dead　cinder。

Miss　Clendenning　rose　from　her　chair；　stood　a　moment　in　deep　thought；　and　said；　aloud：

〃If　she　loves　him；　she　shall　have　him。　There　shall　be　no　more　desolate　firesides　if　I　can　help　it。〃


Early　the　next　morning；　she　mailed　by　the　first　post　a　letter　so　dainty　in　form　and　so　delicate　in　color　that　only　a　turtle…dove　should　have　carried　it　to　Brookfleld　Farm；　and　have　dropped　it　into　Margaret's　　hand。　This　billet…doux　began　by　inviting　Miss　Margaret　Grant　of　Brookfield　Farm