Part 3 (1/2)
CHAPTER V.
LOUIS ROBERT.
Gloriously beautiful was the morning of August twenty-first. We were up early, for the old stage would not wait for us, and we had much to do just at the last moment. I say we, for I tried to do all that was possible to a.s.sist Clara in packing the two large trunks we were to take. One thing puzzled me. I had heard Clara say so many times to Louis, who went over the house with her during the early part of each day, ”Now leave everything in shape to be taken at any moment.” And this last morning all the chairs were covered, and Louis worked with old Jim, time-honored help, to accomplish it all. I had a secret fear that they were planning to go away to seek another home somewhere, and it troubled me. I wondered the more because Clara said nothing to me, and she was naturally so ingenuous and apt to tell me her little plans freely. It seemed to take less time than it takes to write it ere we were landed at the door of my home, and found father and mother waiting to welcome us.
There was a look of surprise on the faces of my parents as Louis descended from the stage and turned so gallantly to his little mother, as he often called her. He was not the boy they expected to see, but a man to all appearance, tall and handsome, and the embodiment of a politeness which is founded, as I believe, on a true respect for the opinions and conditions of others. I felt gladly proud of our supper table that night, and I knew Louis looked in vain for rye bread. He did ample justice to our creamy b.u.t.ter, however, and after supper remarked to me that Miss Lear might like a few pounds of such.
Days pa.s.sed happily along, and the two weeks allotted for Louis' stay came nearly to a close. I dreaded to have the last day appear. Like his mother, he had dropped into his own appropriate niche, and came into our family only as another ray of the suns.h.i.+ne that brightened our home. I had Halbert in my mind much of the time, and talked of him to Louis until he said he felt well acquainted with him, and looked forward to meeting him as one looks to some happiness in store.
Louis was original in his expressions and different from all others of his age. One evening when we were talking of Hal, as we sat on the old doorstone in the moonlight, he said:
”I have something to do for your brother, Miss Emily, I cannot tell you how, but we shall see, we shall never lose sight of each other, we are always to be friends, Miss Emily.”
And the light of his dark eyes grew deep and it seemed as if I looked into fathomless depths as he turned them full upon me for a moment.
”Only a few hours between this long breath I am taking and the school to which I go (mother has written the professor, asking if I can stay longer--we shall have an answer to-morrow). It is doing me good, my mind goes over the country round us here, and I am gathering long breaths that give my mind and body strength. Ah! Miss Emily,” he said, as he rose and walked to and fro, ”I shall sometime breathe and act as I want to. I pray every day that my little mother may live to see me doing what I desire to do, and, also, for strength. I need great strength, Miss Emily. You will help to keep little mother alive, I know you will.”
And he came back, took both my hands in his own; I felt almost afraid--I cannot tell you how powerfully expressive his look, voice and gestures were, and he continued:
”I like you--like you more than you know; you are true, you can be depended on; you call my little mother your fairy cousin, and I call you her royal friend. Do me a favor,” he continued, ”unbind your ma.s.sive hair and let it trail over your shoulders.” And before I realised it my hair swept the doorstone where I sat. ”There,” as he brushed it back from my face, ”look up and you are a picture; wear your long hair floating--why not?”
”Oh, Louis,” I said, ”how could I ever work with such a heavy ma.s.s about me. If, as you say, I look like a picture, I certainly ought not to, for I am only a country dandelion even as a picture,” and I laughed. He looked at me almost fiercely, as he said:
”Miss Emily, never say it again; you are full of poetry; you have glorious thoughts; you dream while at work; some day you will know yourself;” and then there came the far-away look in his eyes. Clara came to sit with us, and the evening wore itself into night's deep shading, and the early hour for rest came to us all. The professor was amiable and willing to accord two weeks more of freedom to Louis, who seemed to enjoy more every day; and when he entered upon his fourth week, said:
”He wished that week might hold a hundred days.”
It seemed to me that since Clara came to us she had been the constant cause of surprise either in one way or another. In herself, as an individual, she was to me a problem of no little consequence and not easily solved, and she was continually bringing forth something unexpected.
The last of the third week of Louis' stay was made memorable by one of her demonstrations. It was Wednesday evening, the last of our ironing was finished, and mother and I were folding the clothes as we took them down from the old-fas.h.i.+oned horse, when we heard her sweet voice claiming us for special consultation.
”Mrs. Minot,” she called, and we left our clothes and went into the square room, as we called it. Father and Louis were there, and when we were seated she began:
”Now, my dear friends, I propose to ask a favor of you. I love you three people, and you have made me so happy here I do desire to call this spot home for always. It seems to me I cannot feel so happy in another place, and now you know I have many belongings in my old home in the city. I know a lady who has met with misfortune, an old friend of my husband's family, who is worthy, and forced at present by circ.u.mstances to earn her living. Now may I ask you, my dear friends, to let me bring my furniture here. Will you give me more room, that I may establish myself just quite enough to make it pleasant, and then I can let my friend have my house (upon condition of her retaining my old help, which I shall not permit to be a trouble to her financially), and through your favor I may help another. I should have asked it long ago, but I waited for my boy to come and taste the air of your home here, and since he loves you as well as I do, may we stay?”
And she held her little white hands toward us, and opened her blue eyes wide.
Of course we all gladly consented.
Then she clapped her hands, and turning to Louis, said:
”Louis Robert, thank them.”
And he bowed and said in his own expressive way:
”We will try to appreciate your kindness.”
I knew then what the covered chairs meant, but I secretly wondered ”How on airth,” as Aunt Hildy used to say, all those moveables were to be got into our house. This thought was running through my head when Clara spoke, crossing the room as she did so, and taking my father's hand--and he was such a reserved man that no one else would ever have dreamed of doing so.
”Mr. Minot, I have not finished yet. Would you grant me one thing more?
May I have a little bit of your ground on the west side of your house, say a piece not more than eighteen by twenty-five feet, with which to do just as I please?”