the major had accomplished his errand and had taken his departure, accompanied down the oleander path as far as the gate by holly. he was very well satisfied with his measure of success. miss india had consented to remain at waynewood until the arrival of the new owner, and if the new owner proved to be the kind of man the major hoped him to be, things would work out quite satisfactory. of course a good deal depended on robert winthrop’s being as much of an invalid as the major had pictured him to miss india. let him appear on the scene exhibiting a sound body and rugged health and all the major’s plans would be upset; miss india’s sympathy would vanish on the instant, and waynewood would be promptly abandoned to the enemy.
the major’s affection for miss india[64] and holly was deep and sincere, and the idea of their leaving waynewood was intolerable to him. the thing mustn’t be, and he believed he could prevent it. winthrop, on arrival, would of course call upon him at once. then he would point out to him the advantage of retaining such admirable tenants, acquaint him with the terms of occupancy, and prevail upon him to renew the lease, which had expired some months before. it was not likely that winthrop would remain in corunna more than three months at the most, and during his stay he could pay miss india for his board. yes, the major had schemed it all out between the moment of receiving that disquieting letter and the moment of his arrival at waynewood. and his schemes looked beyond the present crisis. in another year or so julian wayne, holly’s second cousin, would have finished his term with doctor thompson at marysville and would be ready to begin practice for himself, settle down and marry holly. why shouldn’t julian buy waynewood?[65] to be sure, he possessed very little capital, but it was not likely that the present owner of waynewood would demand a large price for the property. there could be a mortgage, and julian was certain to make a success of his profession. in this way waynewood would remain with the waynes and miss india and holly could live their lives out in the place that had always been home to them. so plotted the major, while fate, outwardly inscrutable, doubtless chuckled in her sleeve.
at the gate the major had shaken hands with holly and made a request.
“my dear,” he had said, “when you return to the house your aunt will have something to tell you. be guided by her. remember that there are two sides to[66] every question and that—ah—time alters all things.”
“but, uncle major, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” holly had declared, laughing.
“i know you don’t, my dear; i know you don’t. and i haven’t time to tell you.” he had drawn his big silver watch from his vest and glanced at it apprehensively. “i promised to be at my office an hour ago. i really must hurry back. good-bye, my dear.”
“good-bye,” holly had answered. “but i think you’re a most provoking, horrid old uncle major.”
but if the major had feared mutiny on the part of holly he might have spared himself the uneasiness. holly had heard of the impending event from aunt india at the dinner table with relish. of course it was disgusting to learn that waynewood was owned by a northerner, but doubtless that was an injustice of fate which would be remedied in good time. the exciting thing was that they were to have a visitor,[67] a stranger, someone from that fearsomely interesting and, if reports were to be credited, delightfully wicked place called new york; someone who could talk to her of other matters than the prospects of securing the new railroad.
“auntie, is he married?” she had asked, suddenly.
“my dear holly, what has that to do with it?”
“well, you see,” holly had responded, demurely, “i’m not married myself, and when you put two people together who are not married, why, something may happen.”
“holly!” protested miss india, in horror.
“oh, i was only in fun,” said holly, with a laugh. “do you reckon, auntie dear, that i’d marry a northerner?”
“i should certainly trust not,” replied miss india, severely.
“not if he had millions and millions of money and whole bushels of diamonds,” answered holly, cheerfully. “but is he married, auntie?”
[68]
“i’m sure i can’t say. the major believes him to be a man of middle age, possibly fifty years old, and so it is quite likely that he has a wife.”
“and he is not bringing her with him?”
“he said nothing of it in his letter, my dear.”
“then i think she’s a very funny kind of a wife,” replied holly, with conviction. “if he is an invalid, i don’t see why she lets him come away down here all alone. i wouldn’t if i were she. i’d be afraid.”
“i don’t reckon he’s as much of an invalid as all that.”
“oh, i wasn’t thinking about his health then,” answered holly. “i’d be afraid he’d meet someone he liked better than me and i wouldn’t see him again.”
“holly, where do you get such deplorable notions?” asked her aunt severely. “it must be the books you read. you read altogether too much. at your age, my dear, i assure you i——”
“i shall be eighteen in just twelve days,” interrupted holly. “and eighteen[69] is grown-up. besides, you know very well that wives do lose their husbands sometimes. there was cousin maybird fairleigh——”
“i decline to discuss such vulgar subjects,” said miss india, decisively. “under the circumstances i think it just as well to forget the relationship, which is of the very slightest, my dear.”
“but it wasn’t cousin maybird’s fault,” protested holly. “she didn’t want to lose him, aunt india. he was a very nice husband; very handsome and distinguished, you know. it was all the fault of that other woman, the one he married after the divorce.”
“holly!”
“yes?”
“we will drop the subject, if you please.”
“yes, auntie.”
holly smiled at her plate. presently:
“when is this mr. winthrop coming?” she asked.
“he didn’t announce the exact date of[70] arrival,” replied miss india. “but probably within a day or two. i have ordered phœbe to prepare the west chamber for him. he will, of course, require a warm room and a good bed.”
“but, auntie, the carpet is so awful in the west room,” deplored holly.
“that is his affair,” replied aunt india, serenely, as she arose from the table. “it is his carpet.”
holly looked surprised, then startled.
“do you mean that everything here belongs to him?” she asked, incredulously. “the furniture and pictures and books and—and everything?”
“waynewood was sold just as it stood at the time, my dear. everything except what is our personal property belongs to mr. winthrop.”
“then i shall hate him,” said holly, with calm decision.
“you must do nothing of the sort, my dear. the place and the furnishings belong to him legally.”
“i don’t care, auntie. he has no right[71] to them. i shall hate him. why, he owns the very bed i sleep in and my maple bureau and——”
“you forget, holly, that those things were bought after your father died and do not belong to his estate.”
“then they’re really mine, after all? very well, auntie dear, i shan’t hate him, then; at least, not so much.”
“i trust you will not hate him at all,” responded miss india, with a smile. “being an invalid, as he is, we must——”
“shucks!” exclaimed holly. “i dare say he’s just making believe so we won’t put poison in his coffee!”
in the middle of the afternoon, what time miss india composed herself to slumber and silence reigned over waynewood, holly found a book and sought the fig-tree. the book, for having been twice read, proved none too enthralling, and presently it had dropped unheeded to the ground and holly, leaning comfortably back against the branches, was day-dreaming once more. the sound of footsteps on the garden path[72] roused her, and she peered forth just as the intruder began his half circuit of the rose-bed.
afterwards holly called herself stupid for not having guessed the identity of the intruder at once. and yet, it seems to me that she was very excusable. robert winthrop had been pictured to her as an invalid, and invalids in holly’s judgment were persons who lay supinely in easy chairs, lived on chicken broth, guava jelly and calomel, and were alternately irritatingly resigned or maddeningly petulant. the expected invalid had also been described as middle-aged, a term capable of wide interpretation and one upon which the worst possible construction is usually placed. the major had suggested fifty; holly with unconscious pessimism imagined sixty. add to this that winthrop was not expected before the morrow, and that holly’s acquaintance with the inhabitants of the country north of mason and dixon’s line was of the slightest and that not of the[73] sort to prepossess her in their favor, and i think she may be absolved from the charge of stupidity. for the stranger whose advent in the garden had aroused her from her dreams looked to be under forty, was far from matching holly’s idea of an invalid, and looked quite unlike the one or two northerners she had seen. to be sure the man in the garden walked slowly and a trifle languidly, but for that matter so did many of holly’s townsfolk. and when he paused at last with one foot on the lower step his breath was coming a bit raggedly and his face was too pale for perfect health. but these facts holly failed to observe.
what she did observe was that the stranger was rather tall, quite erect, broad of shoulder and deep of chest, somewhat too thin for the size of his frame, with a pleasant, lean face of which the conspicuous features were high cheek-bones, a straightly uncompromising nose and a pair of nice eyes of some shade neither dark nor light. he wore a brown mustache which, contrary[74] to the southern custom, was trimmed quite short; and when he lifted his hat a moment later holly saw that his hair, dark brown in color, had retreated well away from his forehead and was noticeably sprinkled with white at the temples. as for his attire, it was immaculate; black derby, black silk tie knotted in a four-in-hand and secured with a small pearl pin, well-cut grey sack suit and brown leather shoes. in a southerner holly would have thought such carefulness of dress foppish; in fact, as it was, she experienced a tiny contempt for it even as she acknowledged that the result was far from displeasing. further observations and conclusions were cut short by the stranger, who advanced toward her with hat in hand and a puzzled smile.
“how do you do?” said winthrop.
“good evening,” answered holly.
there was a flicker of surprise in winthrop’s eyes ere he continued.
“i’m afraid i’m trespassing. the fact is, i was looking for a place called waynewood[75] and from the directions i received in the village i thought i had found it. but i guess i’ve made a mistake?”
“oh, no,” said holly; “this is waynewood.”
winthrop was silent a moment, striving to reconcile the announcement with her presence: evidently there were complications ahead. at last:
“oh!” he said, and again paused.
“would you like to see my aunt?” asked holly.
“er—i hardly know,” answered winthrop, with a smile for his own predicament. “would it sound impolite if i asked who your aunt is?”
“why, miss india wayne,” answered holly. “and i am holly wayne. perhaps you’ve got the wrong place, after all?”
“oh, no,” was the reply. “you say this is waynewood, and of course there can’t be two waynewoods about here.”
holly shook her head, observing him gravely and curiously. winthrop frowned.[76] apparently there were complications which he had not surmised.
“will you come into the house?” suggested holly. “i will tell auntie you wish to see her.” she prepared to descend from the low branch upon which she was seated, and winthrop reached a hand to her.
“may i?” he asked, courteously.
holly placed her hand in his and leaped lightly to the ground, bending her head as she smoothed her skirt that he might not see the ridiculous little flush which had suddenly flooded her cheeks. why, she wondered, should she have blushed. she had been helped in and out of trees and carriages, up and down steps, all her life, and couldn’t recollect that she had ever done such a silly thing before! as she led the way along the path which ran in front of the porch to the steps, she discovered that her heart was thumping with a most disconcerting violence. and with the discovery came a longing for flight. but with a fierce contempt for her weakness[77] she conquered the panic and kept her flushed face from the sight of the man behind her. but she was heartily glad when she had reached the comparative gloom of the hall. laying aside her bonnet, she turned to find that her companion had seated himself in a chair on the porch.
“you won’t mind if i wait here?” he asked, smiling apologetically. “the fact is—the walk was——”
had holly not been anxious to avoid his eyes she would have seen that he was fighting for breath and quite exhausted. instead she turned toward the stairs, only to pause ere she reached them to ask:
“what name shall i say, please?”
“oh, i beg your pardon! winthrop, please; mr. robert winthrop, of new york.”
holly wheeled about.
“mr. winthrop!” she exclaimed.
“if you please,” answered that gentleman, weakly.
“why,” continued holly, in amazement, “then you aren’t an invalid, after all!”[78] she had reached the door now and was looking down at him with bewilderment. winthrop strove to turn his head toward her, gave up the effort and smiled strainedly at the marble cupid, which had begun an erratic dance amongst the box and roses.
“oh, no,” he replied in a whisper. “i’m not—an invalid—at all.”
[79]
then he became suddenly very white and his head fell back over the side of the chair. holly gave one look and, turning, flew like the wind up the broad stairway.
“auntie!” she called. “aunt india! come quickly! he’s fainted!”
“fainted? who has fainted?” asked miss india, from her doorway. “what are you saying, child?”
“mr. winthrop! he’s on the porch!” cried holly, her own face almost as white as winthrop’s.
“mr. winthrop! here? fainted? on the porch?” ejaculated miss india, dismayedly. “call uncle ran at once. i’ll get the ammonia. tell phœbe to bring some feathers. and get some water yourself, holly.”
in a moment miss india, the ammonia bottle in hand, was—i had almost said scuttling down the stairs. at least, she made the descent without wasting a moment.
“the poor man,” she murmured, as she looked down at the white face and inert[80] form of the stranger. “holly! phœbe! oh, you’re here, are you? give me the water. there! now bathe his head, holly. mercy, child, how your hand shakes! have you never seen any one faint before?”
“it was so sudden,” faltered holly.
“fainting usually is,” replied miss india, as she dampened her tiny handkerchief with ammonia and held it under winthrop’s nose. “do not hold his head too high, holly; that’s better. what do you say, phœbe? why, you’ll just stand there and hold them until i want them, i reckon. dead? of course he isn’t dead, you foolish girl. not the least bit dead. there, his eyelids moved; didn’t you see them? he will be all right in a moment. you may take those feathers away, phœbe, and tell uncle ran to come and carry mr. winthrop up to his room. and do you go up and start the fire and turn the bed down.”
winthrop drew a long breath and opened his eyes.
[81]
“my dear lady,” he muttered, “i am so very sorry to bother you. i don’t——”
“sit still a moment, sir,” commanded miss india, gently. “holly, i told you to hold his head. don’t you see that he is weak and tired? i fear the journey was too much for you, sir.”
winthrop closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head assentingly. then he sat up and smiled apologetically at the ladies.
“it was awfully stupid of me,” he said. “i have not been very well lately and i guess the walk from the station was longer than i thought.”
“you walked from the depot!” exclaimed miss india, in horror. “it’s no wonder then, sir. why, it’s a mile and a quarter if it’s a step! i never heard of anything so—so——!”
miss india broke off and turned to the elderly negro, who had arrived hurriedly on the scene.
“uncle ran, carry mr. winthrop up to the west chamber and help him to retire.”
“my dear lady,” winthrop protested.[82] “i am quite able to walk. besides, i have no intention of burdening you with——”
“uncle ran!”
“yes’m.”
“you heard what i said?”
“yes’m.”
uncle randall stooped over the chair.
“jes’ you put yo’ ahms roun’ my neck, sir, an’ i’ll tote you mighty cahful an’ comfable, sir.”
“but, really, i’d rather walk,” protested winthrop. “and with your permission, miss—miss wayne, i’ll return to the village until——”
[83]
“uncle ran!”
“yes, miss indy, ma’am, i heahs you. hol’ on tight, sir.”
and in this ignoble fashion winthrop took possession of waynewood.
