Part 6 (2/2)

”Grandy!” she called, her clear tones ringing down to him, ”Grandy, you will have to come and send this Margot away--you will--”

He came up the stairs to her slowly, pausing formally outside her door to tap for Margot to open for him; but even before he was in the room, looking very pale and stern and old with his beautiful head lifted high above the ruffled s.h.i.+rt and his peaked hat held in his hand, the girl's eager appeal had begun.

”This Margot,” Felicia's words tumbled impetuously, ”She's been telling me lies--she says Maman isn't here--that she isn't in the garden--or in the house--she says she--”

”You'd better stay, Margot,” said Major Trenton, ”I think Miss Felicia will need you. Felicia, let Margot wrap that gown about you, it's chilly here. Felicia, we do not know how to make you understand about your mother--we did not want to make you sad when you were little so I did not tell you. It was her wish that I should not distress you--”

his face worked pitifully, ”--with the manner of her going--what she said to you about the garden--you did not understand, my dear--She had a notion, my little Octavia, that we do not die--that only our bodies die--many other people believe this--are you listening, Felicia? She thought that her spirit,” he groped for words, ”the Something she called the 'Happy part of her' couldn't--'stop'--as she called it--she said-” his lips were quivering, ”that part of her would always try to stay in the house where you lived so long and in this garden and house in which she lived when she was young--like you--that is all--What Margot tells you is quite true--she is not living--she has not been living since you were eleven--she died--” his words trailed miserably, ”She is not living--” he repeated feebly.

The girl's eyes had never left his since he had begun his inadequate explanation, she did not cry out, she merely stood there, pale, unbelieving and stared at him.

”And she said the Happy Part of her would be here?”

He nodded.

”Then,” said Felicia calmly, ”If she said so, she will, and you and Margot are both stupid and bad to tell me that she won't--If you will find my shoes--” she turned petulantly to Margot, ”I will walk until I find her--”

”But you cannot find her, she is gone--” the deep agony of his voice rang in the great room, ”Quite gone--”

”Where has she gone?” demanded Felice stubbornly.

He gestured his despair.

It was Margot who came to the rescue, sane Margot, who had collected her senses once more. She pattered across the room to the wardrobe, calling over her shoulder as she tugged at the door.

”Wait, wait,” she entreated, ”You will understand some day! Just now we won't talk about it any more. She's not here but she has left so many things for you! So many messages for you! So much for you to do!

Look, Miss Felicia!” She held aloft a broad sun-hat and a pair of gauntleted gloves, ”Just where she hung them--as if she knew you might want them! These are the things she wore when she worked in the garden--here's her wicker basket with the trowel and the hand fork-- and here's the garden book--” She was standing before Felicia now holding out the treasures. ”If you'll sit over there by the window I can tell you about the day she found this book--”

The hurt look was fading from the girl's eyes; she reached out her hands for these things that had been her mother's; she was quite docile as the Major helped her to the chair by the window. She had the garden book cuddled under her arm; she was holding the gloves against her cheek; she looked like a child instead of a grown-up person.

You won't have to pretend you can see Felicia's great-great- grandmother's garden book--you can really see it in the library of Octavia House if you care to ask the Poetry Girl to show it to you-- but perhaps you'll like to pretend that you can see the seventeen year old Felicia, wrapped in that shabby brocaded dressing gown sitting beside the window staring at the stained t.i.tle page, trying to read the faint inked inscription. Perhaps you'll like to pretend too, that you can hear her grandfather's voice steadying itself as he leans over the back of the chair and translates the inscription for her. The book's in English, you know, but that written inscription is in French.

”It says,” read her grandfather, ”something like this:

”'To my little Madame Folly Whom others call Prudence Langhorne I present this book, for I have heard A woman can be very happy building a garden--'”

”And whose name is this?” Felicia put her finger on the broad sprawl after the inscription.

”It's the initial of the man who gave it to her--J.--” said her grandfather grimly.

”And J. gave this book to Maman?”

Margot chuckled.

”No--no--” she explained. ”Your Maman found this book over there in the cupboard--it's a very old book, Cherie. It is a book that a man gave to--” her fat fingers checked off the generations lightly, ”a lady named Prudence--she was the mother of Josepha--and Josepha was the mother of a Louisa. It was this Louisa who was your mother's mother--now do you see? And think, Miss Felicia--” she waved her hand toward the opened door of the wardrobe, ”what many, many things they've left here for you! When Octavia was just as old as you she rummaged and rummaged every day--” Margot wiped her eyes with the back of her hand--the Major moved toward the window and looked down upon the garden. ”She put them all in order, each one's clothes in a different place, I was the one who helped her. And she used to laugh while we sorted the things and say what fun it would be for the next one who came to see them--that's you, Miss Felicia--”

”Oh! Oh!” breathed Felicia, her eyes s.h.i.+ning like stars. ”How sweet of her! How sweet of you, Margot, to keep them all for me! You are sweet, sweet, sweet to bring me her gloves! Once she told me about this hat, I knew its ribbons would be blue! I know how they tie in back so's it won't make me warm under my chin--she told me--look, isn't this the way?” Her slender hands lifted the hat to her hair, so sweetly rumpled from her pillows, ”Look, Grandy, look at me! I am wearing Maman's hat --she told me I could wear it when I came to the House in the Woods! Do you think it looks well on me?” Her naive vanity almost broke their hearts. ”Do you, Grandy? Look at me!”

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