Part 6 (2/2)
”Two months and a half is a great while, and then we have been together so much,” replied Maggie, at the same time asking if Hagar did not approve her choice.
”Henry Warner's well enough,” answered Hagar. ”I've watched him close and see no evil in him; but he isn't the one for you, nor are you the one for him. You are both too wild, too full of fun, and if yoked together will go to destruction, I know. You need somebody to hold you back, and so does he.”
Involuntarily Maggie thought of Rose, mentally resolving to be, if possible, more like her.
”You are not angry with me?” said Hagar, observing Maggie's silence.
”You asked my opinion, and I gave it to you. You are too young to know who you like. Henry Warner is the first man you ever knew, and in two years' time you'll tire of him.”
”Tire of him, Hagar? Tire of Henry Warner?” cried Maggie a little indignantly. ”You do not know me, if you think I'll ever tire of him; and then, too, did I tell you grandma keeps writing to me about a Mr.
Carrollton, who she says is wealthy, fine-looking, highly educated, and very aristocratic--and that last makes me hate him! I've heard so much about aristocracy that I'm sick of it, and just for that reason I would not have this Mr. Carrollton if I knew he'd make me queen of England. But grandma's heart is set upon it, I know, and she thinks of course he would marry me--says he is delighted with my daguerreotype--that awful one, too, with the staring eyes. In grandma's last letter he sent me a note. 'Twas beautifully written, and I dare say he is a fine young man, at least he talks common sense, but I shan't answer it; and, if you'll believe me, I used part of it in lighting Henry's cigar, and with the rest I shall light firecrackers on the Fourth of July; Henry has bought a lot of them, and we're going to have fun. How grandma would scold!--but I shall marry Henry Warner, anyway. Do you think she will oppose me, when she sees how determined I am?”
”Of course she will,” answered Hagar. ”I know those Carrolltons--they are a haughty race; and if your grandmother has one of them in view she'll turn you from her door sooner than see you married to another, and an American, too.”
There was a moment's silence, and then, with an unnatural gleam in her eye, old Hagar turned towards Maggie, and, grasping her shoulder, said: ”If she does this thing, Maggie Miller,--if she casts you off,--will you take me for your grandmother? Will you let me live with you? I'll be your drudge, your slave; say, Maggie, may I go with you?
Will you call me grandmother? I'd willingly die if only once I could hear you speak to me thus, and know it was in love.”
For a moment Maggie looked at her in astonishment; then thinking to herself, ”She surely is half-crazed,” she answered laughingly: ”Yes, Hagar, if grandma casts me off, you may go with me. I shall need your care, but I can't promise to call you grandma, because you know you are not.”
The corners of Hagar's mouth worked nervously, but her teeth shut firmly over the thin, white lip, forcing back the wild words trembling there, and the secret was not told.
”Go home, Maggie Miller,” she said at last, rising slowly to her feet.
”Go home now, and leave me alone. I am willing you should marry Henry Warner--nay, I wish you to do it; but you must remember your promise.”
Maggie was about to answer, when her thoughts were directed to another channel by the sight of George Douglas and Theo coming slowly down the shaded pathway which led past Hagar's door. Old Hagar saw them too, and, whispering to Maggie, said, ”There's another marriage brewing, or the signs do not tell true, and madam will sanction this one, too, for there's money there, and gold can purify any blood.”
Ere Maggie could reply Theo called out, ”You here, Maggie, as usual?”
adding, aside, to her companion: ”She has the most unaccountable taste, so different from me, who cannot endure anything low and vulgar. Can you? But I need not ask,” she continued, ”for your a.s.sociations have been of a refined nature.”
George Douglas did not answer, for his thoughts were back in the brown farmhouse at the foot of the hill, where his boyhood was pa.s.sed, and he wondered what the high-bred lady at his side would say if she could see the sunburned man and plain, old-fas.h.i.+oned woman who called him their son George Was.h.i.+ngton. He would not confess that he was ashamed of his parentage, for he tried to be a kind and dutiful child, but he would a little rather that Theo Miller should not know how democratic had been his early training. So he made no answer, but, addressing himself to Maggie, asked how she could find it in her heart to leave her patient so long.
”I'm going back directly,” she said, and donning her hat she started for home, thinking she had gained but little satisfaction from Hagar, who, as Douglas and Theo pa.s.sed on, resumed her seat by the door, and, listening to the sound of Margaret's retreating footsteps, muttered: ”The old light-heartedness is gone. There are shadows gathering round her; for once in love, she'll never be as free and joyous again. But it can't be helped; it's the destiny of women, and I only hope this Warner is worthy of her. But he aint. He's too wild--too full of what Hagar Warren calls bedevilment. And Maggie does everything he tells her to do. Not content with tearing down his bed-curtains, which have hung there full twenty years, she's set things all cornerwise, because the folks do so in Worcester, and has turned the parlor into a smoking-room, till all the air of Hillsdale can't take away that tobacco scent. Why, it almost knocks me down!” and the old lady groaned aloud, as she recounted to herself the recent innovations upon the time-honored habits of her mistress' house.
Henry Warner was, indeed, rather a fast young man, but it needed the suggestive presence of George Douglas to bring out his true character; and for the four days succeeding the arrival of the latter there were rare doings at the old stone house, where the astonished and rather delighted servants looked on in amazement while the young men sang their jovial songs and drank of the rare old wine which Maggie, utterly fearless of what her grandmother might say, brought from the cellar below. But when, on the morning of the Fourth, Henry Warner suggested that they have a celebration, or at least hang out the American flag by way of showing their patriotism, there were signs of rebellion in the kitchen, while even Mrs. Jeffrey, who had long since ceased to interfere, felt it her duty to remonstrate. Accordingly, she descended to the parlor, where she found George Douglas and Maggie dancing to the tune of ”Yankee Doodle,” which Theo played upon the piano, while Henry Warner whistled a most stirring accompaniment! To be heard above that din was impossible, and involuntarily patting her own slippered foot to the lively strain the distressed little lady went back to her room, wondering what Madam Conway would say if she knew how her house was being desecrated.
But Madam Conway did not know. She was three thousand miles away, and with this distance between them Maggie dared do anything; so when the flag was again mentioned, she answered apologetically, as if it were something of which they ought to be ashamed: ”We never had any, but we can soon make one, I know. 'Twill be fun to see it float from the housetop!” and, flying up the stairs to the dusty garret, she drew from a huge oaken chest a scarlet coat which had belonged to the former owner of the place, who little thought, as he sat in state, that his favorite coat would one day furnish material for the emblem of American freedom!
No such thought as this, however, obtruded itself upon Maggie as she bent over the chest. ”The coat is of no use,” she said, and gathering it up she ran back to the parlor, where, throwing it across Henry's lap, she told how it had belonged to her great-great-grandfather, who at the time of the Revolution went home to England. The young men exchanged a meaning look, and then burst into a laugh, but the cause of their merriment they did not explain, lest the prejudices of the girls should be aroused.
”This is just the thing,” said Henry, entering heart and soul into the spirit of the fun. ”This is grand. Can't you find some blue for the groundwork of the stars?”
Maggie thought a moment, and then exclaimed: ”Oh, yes--I have it; grandma has a blue satin bodice which she wore when she was a young lady. She once gave me a part of the back for my doll's dress. She won't care if I cut up the rest for a banner.”
”Of course not,” answered George Douglas. ”She'll be glad to have it used for such a laudable purpose,” and walking to the window he laughed heartily as he saw in fancy the wrath of the proud Englishwoman when she learned the use to which her satin bodice had been appropriated.
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