Part 4 (2/2)

Henry Warner, as the stranger was called, was the junior partner of the firm of Douglas & Co., Worcester, and his object in visiting the Hillsdale neighborhood was to collect several bills which for a long time had been due. He had left the cars at the depot, and, hiring a livery horse, was taking the shortest route from the east side of town to the west, when he came accidentally upon Maggie Miller, and, as we have seen, brought his ride to a sudden close. All this he told to her on the morning following the accident, retaining until the last the name of the firm of which he was a member.

”And you were once at our store?” he said. ”How long ago?”

”Five years,” answered Maggie; ”when I was eleven, and Theo thirteen;”

then, looking earnestly at him, she exclaimed. ”And you are the very one, the clerk with the saucy eyes whom grandma disliked so much because she thought he made fun of her; but we didn't think so--Theo and I,” she added hastily, as she saw the curious expression on Henry's mouth, and fancied he might be displeased. ”We liked them both very much, and knew they must of course be annoyed with grandma's English whims.”

For a moment the saucy eyes studied intently the fair girlish face of Maggie Miller, then slowly closed, while a train of thought something like the following pa.s.sed through the young man's mind: ”A woman, and yet a perfect child--innocent and unsuspecting as little Rose herself.

In one respect they are alike, knowing no evil and expecting none; and if I, Henry Warner, do aught by thought or deed to injure this young girl may I never again look on the light of day or breathe the air of heaven.”

The vow had pa.s.sed his lips. Henry Warner never broke his word, and henceforth Maggie Miller was as safe with him as if she had been an only and well-beloved sister. Thinking him to be asleep, Maggie started to leave the room, but he called her back, saying, ”Don't go; stay with me, won't you?”

”Certainly,” she answered, drawing a chair to the bedside. ”I supposed you were sleeping.”

”I was not,” he replied. ”I was thinking of you and of Rose. Your voices are much alike. I thought of it yesterday when I lay upon the rock.”

”Who is Rose?” trembled on Maggie's lips, while at the sound of that name she was conscious of the same undefinable emotion she had once before experienced. But the question was not asked. ”If she were his sister he would tell me,” she thought; ”and if she is not his sister--”

She did not finish the sentence, neither did she understand that if Rose to him was something dearer than a sister, she, Maggie Miller, did not care to know it.

”Is she beautiful as her name, this Rose?” she asked at last.

”She is beautiful, but not so beautiful as you. There are few who are,” answered Henry; and his eyes fixed themselves upon Maggie to see how she would bear the compliment.

But she scarcely heeded it, so intent was she upon knowing something more of the mysterious Rose. ”She is beautiful, you say. Will you tell me how she looks?” she continued; and Henry Warner answered, ”She is a frail, delicate little creature, almost dwarfish in size, but perfect in form and feature.”

Involuntarily Maggie shrunk back in her chair, wis.h.i.+ng her own queenly form had been a very trifle shorter, while Mr. Warner continued, ”She has a sweet, angel face, Maggie, with eyes of l.u.s.trous blue and curls of golden hair.”

”You must love her very dearly,” said Maggie, the tone of her voice indicating a partial dread of what the answer might be.

”I do indeed love her,” was Mr. Warner's reply--”love her better than all the world beside. And she has made me what I am; but for her I should have been a worthless, dissipated fellow. It's my natural disposition; but Rose has saved me, and I almost wors.h.i.+p her for it.

She is my good angel--my darling--my--”

Here he paused abruptly, and leaning back upon his pillows rather enjoyed than otherwise the look of disappointment plainly visible on Maggie's face. She had fully expected to learn who Rose was; but this knowledge he purposely kept from her. It did not need a very close observer of human nature to read at a glance the ingenuous Maggie, whose speaking face betrayed all she felt. She was unused to the world. He was the first young gentleman whose acquaintance she had ever made, and he knew that she already felt for him a deeper interest than she supposed. To increase this interest was his object, and this he thought to do by withholding from her, for a time, a knowledge of the relation existing between him and the Rose of whom he had talked so much. The ruse was successful, for during the remainder of the day thoughts of the golden-haired Rose were running through Maggie's mind, and it was late that night ere she could compose herself to sleep, so absorbed was she in wondering what Rose was to Henry Warner. Not that she cared particularly, she tried to persuade herself; but she would very much like to be at ease upon the subject.

To Theo she had communicated the fact that their guest was a partner of Douglas & Co., and this tended greatly to raise the young man in the estimation of a young lady like Theo Miller. Next to rank and station, money was with her the one thing necessary to make a person ”somebody.” Douglas, she had heard, was an immensely wealthy man; possibly the junior partner was wealthy, too; and if so, the parlor chamber to which she had at first objected was none too good for his aristocratic bones. She would go herself and see him in the morning.

Accordingly, on the morning of the second day she went with Maggie to the sickroom, speaking to the stranger for the first time; but keeping still at a respectable distance, until she should know something definite concerning him.

”We have met before, it seems,” he said, after the first interchange of civilities was over; ”but I did not think our acquaintance would be renewed in this manner.”

No answer from Theo, who, like many others, had taken a dislike to his mouth, and felt puzzled to know whether he intended ridiculing her or not.

”I have a distinct recollection of your grandmother,” he continued, ”and now I think of it I believe Douglas has once or twice mentioned the elder of the two girls. That must be you?” and he looked at Theo, whose face brightened perceptibly.

”Douglas,” she repeated. ”He is the owner of the store; and the one I saw, with black eyes and black hair, was only a clerk.”

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