Part 39 (1/2)

She felt somewhat deceitful in planning adroitly. She made Miss Winn go to church with her, and when they came home with Mr. Saltonstall they sat on the porch together. A girl thinking of a lover would have asked him in. Then she went down to Boston, and Anthony came over as often as he could. Surely there was no danger with him.

All this time Chilian Leverett was having a hard fight with himself. He was really ashamed of having been conquered by what he called a boy's romantic pa.s.sion. He could excuse himself for the early lapse; he was a boy then. His honor and what he called good sense were mightily at war with this desire that well-nigh overmastered him. True, men older than he had married young wives. But this child had been entrusted to him in a sacred fas.h.i.+on by her dying father; he must place before her the best and richest of life, even if it condemned him to after-years of joyless solitude.

For it was not as a father he loved her, though he had played a little at fatherhood in the beginning. She was so companionable, they had so many similar tastes. He was so fond of reading to an appreciative listener, and even as he sat in the darkness, when she did not know he was alone in the study, he could see her lovely eyes raised in their tender light. He thought this her unusual wisdom and discernment, never dreaming it had been mostly his training and her receptiveness. And to think of the house without her! Why, going out of it in her wedding gown would be almost as if she had been laid in her shroud and shut away. Of course, he could not have her here and see her love another.

Giles Leverett's dream was much happier. In his mind he saved her for his favorite. When Anthony was through--and he was putting in law, with the cla.s.sics--he would take him in his office, where he would find much business made to his hand. The house was big enough for them all, and he had grown curiously interested in young people. Anthony was very fond of his sweet, fascinating cousin--they all were. He did not know whether there was any one in Salem quite good enough for her. Saltonstall was a rather trifling fellow, whose fancies were evanescent.

But Mr. Ed Saltonstall had a good friend in Mrs. Stevens, and she counselled him not to be too ardent in his pursuit. She said pleasant little things about him without any effusiveness. She considered his friends.h.i.+p with her very charming--young men were not generally devoted to middle-aged women. Once she shrewdly wondered why he had not made some errand down.

Altogether it was a pleasant visit, though Cynthia kept revolving her duty, if such there was in the case. A blind, mysterious asking for something haunted her, something it would be sad to miss out of her life.

Then she came home alone in the stage. There was a property dispute going on, where Mr. Leverett was an important witness for a friend. When the stage stopped, Rachel and Jane both ran out and gave her a joyful welcome.

”Oh, dear!” exclaimed Cousin Eunice, ”we are so glad to get you back.

You are the light _of_ the house, isn't she?” glancing at the other.

”Even Chilian has been mopey, though I think he isn't well. He is getting thin, too, and goodness knows he had no flesh to lose. Oh, my dear, I hope you will never go away again while I live;” and she gave a long sigh as the girl left the room.

She came down presently in a cheerful light frock and began to tell Cousin Eunice and Jane what she had seen and heard. She was in the full tide of this, eager, bright, and flus.h.i.+ng when Chilian entered. He greeted her rather languidly. Yes, he had grown thinner, and Cousin Giles was putting on too much flesh and growing jollier. Chilian did not look well and an ache went all over Cynthia's body, every nerve being sympathetic. He was not silent, however; he asked questions, but she thought he was hardly paying attention to the answers. He remained down in the sitting-room and read his _Gazette_, now and then making some comment, or answering some query of Cousin Eunice. It was not nine yet when he rose and said, ”He was very tired; if they would excuse him, he would go to bed.”

They all went presently. She was glad to be alone in the room, glad there was no moon, and she turned her face over on the pillow and cried softly. After all, life was a riddle--two ways and not knowing which to take, both having a curiously lonely ending. Could she not bear it better alone? If he should go away as her father had done, if she should stay here in the old house, and then Cousin Eunice would fold her hands in that silent clasp, Rachel would slip into old womanhood, Jane would marry, she was keeping company now. There would be other Janes and she----

On the other hand would be love, marriage, children maybe, a pleasant home. Living along side by side, as other people did.

She did not try to shut out either vision. Which should she take? Was life just for one's self?

She was not morbid. It was only in religion that people took out their very souls and examined them for lurking sins; the days' duties were what must be accomplished, whether or no. She knew she was not very religious, the deep things seemed beyond her grasp. And there was a certain joyousness in her love for suns.h.i.+ne, flowers, people, and all the attractive things of life. She was deeply grateful, she raised her heart in thankfulness to G.o.d for every good gift. And now she took up the daily duties cheerfully. It was not their fault the shadow had fallen over them.

Some days afterward she was rambling around aimlessly, when she met a girl friend, and they chatted about various matters.

”Oh,” exclaimed the friend, ”there'll be another wedding in the autumn, and Betty Upham is keeping steady company. I used to have an idea that you and Ben would make a match----”

”It's Jenny Willing,” she interrupted. ”And I am heartily glad.”

”You were all such friends;” looking puzzled.

”And I hope we will go on being friends. I have always liked Jenny.”

”She was awfully afraid you'd cut her out. You know he did fancy you first. I think she would have been very unhappy if she had missed him. I don't see what there is about you, Cynthia;” studying her intently. ”You are pretty, but there are some handsome girls in Salem. And they run after Ed Saltonstall as if there was no other man in town. And my advice to you is to seize on him, for I think your chance best. He's an awful flirt, though. I think good-looking men always are.”

Cynthia flushed. Why should these things be profaned by foolish gossip.

Polly came over one afternoon. She had accomplished the bag and was proud enough of it. And she announced Bentley's engagement.

”They will be married in the early fall; they are not going to build, but have part of that double house of Nelsons'. She'll make a fine, economical wife, and that is what men need who are trying to get along.

a.s.semblies and all that are not the thing for prudent married people.”

”And one gets tired of them.” She had a feeling just then that she should never want to dance any more.

Cynthia was glad to have him settled, glad Jenny Willing had the man she loved.