Part 27 (2/2)

But----”

”I don't know that I want to begin over again,” and she gave a peculiar smile. ”Five seems quite an undertaking when you have had only one. And you have taken so much the charge of her.”

”But you see, now she will need a woman's guidance more than ever. She has outgrown childhood. I see the change in her every day. Eunice could not supervise her clothes and her pleasures, times have changed so much.

I want her to be very happy and have a life like other girls----”

She thought she could give up the prospect good as it was, won by that persuasive voice. And she had come to really love Miss Eunice, who was blossoming in a new phase now that there was nothing to restrain her natural sweetness.

”I promised her father to do the best I could for her. I love her very much. I enjoy the home here. I do not think I could be any happier. And I am so used to owning myself that I do not feel disposed to give up my liberty. If I had no prospect, I might consider it. And Cynthia will need some one as she grows older to see that she makes the right sort of acquaintances and guide her a little.”

”Then since all is agreeable we can count on your staying. You cannot imagine my own thankfulness;” and he pressed her hand cordially.

”Isn't it funny!” cried Cynthia. ”Why, Margaret Plummer goes to Madam Torrey's, but she is very--well, I don't know just how to describe it, only she said once that they would all make the house too hot to hold a step-mother. And, oh, dear Rachel, I couldn't bear to have anybody ugly to you. And then you know we couldn't give you up. Cousin Chilian said so, and Miss Eunice cried.”

Miss Winn winked some tears out of her eyes, though she tried to smile.

It was very comforting to a woman without kith or kin to feel so welcome in a household.

Cynthia was sitting on the step of the porch one May night when the moon was making s.h.i.+fting shadows through the trees and silvering the paths.

Chilian was studying the face, and wondering a little what was flitting through the brain that now and then gave it such intentness.

”What are you thinking about?” he asked.

”Oh, Cousin Chilian!” She flushed a lovely, rosy glow. ”Building an air castle.”

”Is it very airy? So far that it would be a journey for another person to reach it?”

”Oh, part of it is near by. The other is what could be, maybe;”

wistfully.

”Can't I hear about it?”

”Cousin Chilian, why are the parlors always shut up, and why don't you have people coming and going, and saying bright things, and talking about the improvements and--and Napoleon and the wars in Europe, and the new streets and houses, and, oh, ever so many things?”

He looked at the tightly closed shutters. In his father's time there were visitors, discussions, playing at whist and loo, and little suppers. She wouldn't care for that, of course. Yet he remembered that she had been interested in the talks at Boston.

”Why, yes; the rooms could be opened. Only we have grown so at home in the sitting-room, and you and I in the study.”

”At the Dearborns' they keep the house all open and lighted up, as they do in Boston. And they ask in young people and have plays, and charades, and funny conundrums----”

Oh, she was young and should have this kind of life. How should he set about it? He must ask Miss Winn. But he ventured rather timidly, for a man.

”Would you like--well, some girls in to tea? They ask you so often. And there is no reason why we should all be hermits.”

She sprang up and clasped her arms about his neck.

”Oh, I just should. At first when Cousin Elizabeth went away, and the lessons were difficult, and it was winter, but now everything seems so joyous----”

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