Part 26 (1/2)

Within an hour it was evident that a cloud had been lifted from the entire household. Everybody felt brighter and better. Roseleaf eyed Mr.

Fern with surprise, and had half a mind to go to his office the next day and tell him how dearly he loved his daughter. It was the first time anything like a smile had been upon that face since he had known its lineaments.

Archie Weil devoted his attention, as usual, to Millicent. He did not talk to her about Hannibal, knowing how distasteful was the subject. He discussed her novel, of which she never seemed to tire, and asked her about another, which she had begun to map out. She told him she was sure she could do better the next time, and spoke of the a.s.sistance Mr.

Roseleaf would furnish if needed, quite as if that was a matter already arranged between her and the young novelist.

Archie wondered if Millicent knew the extent of the attachment that had grown up between s.h.i.+rley and her sister. She seemed to feel sure that he would be at hand when wanted. Could it be that she believed he would ultimately become her brother-in-law? The negro's guess had almost been blotted out of his mind. There had been absolutely nothing in his observation to confirm it.

A day or two after the departure of Hannibal, Mr. Fern had a conversation with Daisy, in which he dwelt with more stress than she could account for on a special theme. He was talking of Walter Boggs and Archie Weil, and he cautioned her earnestly to treat both gentlemen with the greatest consideration. The girl detected something strange in his voice, and she stole apprehensive glances at him, hoping to read the cause in his eyes.

”Why, papa, I never see Mr. Boggs,” she said. ”It is weeks and weeks since he came here. As for Mr. Weil, we all treat him nicely, I am sure, and are glad to have him come.”

”Yes,” he admitted. ”You use him quite right, my child. I am not complaining; only, if you could show him _particular_ attention, something more than the ordinary--” He paused, trying to finish what he wished to say. ”There may be a time when he will be of great value to me--and--I want him to feel--you observe things so cleverly--do you think Millicent cares for him?”

Daisy looked up astonished.

”Cares--for--Mr. Weil?”

Her father nodded.

”He has been here several times a week for months, and most of his time here has been spent with her. I thought--I hoped that she cared for him.”

He thought! He hoped! Daisy had never had such an idea in her head until that moment. She had a dim idea that her father would give up either of his daughters with great regret, although she could not help knowing that the relations between him and Millicent were not as cordial as those between him and herself. And he ”hoped” that Millie would marry, and that she would marry Mr. Weil! Her mind dwelt upon this strange thought. She tried to find a reason for it. Was there any stronger incentive in her father's mind than a desire to see Millie well settled in life, with a good husband?

Had he a fear that the time might soon come when he could not provide for her?

Or was there a worse fear--the kind of fear that had haunted him in relation to Hannibal?

Every time Mr. Weil came to the house after that the young girl watched him as closely as he had ever watched her. He did not exchange a word with her father that did not engage her attention. And the conclusion she came to was that, whatever the object of Mr. Fern in this matter, Mr. Weil was honor itself.

Daisy had never made much of a confidant of Millicent, and the latter had the habit of keeping her affairs pretty closely to herself. It was no easy task, then, that the young sister had in view when she came to a decision to talk with Millie about Mr. Weil.

Her father had expressed a hope that Millie and Weil would marry. Mr.

Fern had some strong reason for his wish. Whatever it was, Daisy, with her strong filial love, wanted it gratified.

”Millie, what do you think of marriage?” she asked, one day, when the opportunity presented itself.

”I suppose it's the manifest destiny of a woman,” replied her sister, quietly.

Much encouraged, Daisy proceeded to allude to Mr. Weil, praising him in the highest terms, and saying that any girl might be proud to be honored with his addresses. Millie answered with confirmatory nods of the head, as if she fully agreed with all she uttered. But when her sister spoke, the words struck Daisy like a blow.

”I am glad to hear this,” she said, in a voice more tender than usual.

”I think Mr. Weil would have proposed to you long ago, but that he feared the result.”

Daisy gasped for breath.

”Millie!” she cried. ”Do you mean that Mr. Weil--that--why, I do not understand! He has hardly spoken to me, while he has spent nearly every minute he has been here, with you!”

”Of course he has,” responded the other. ”What could be more like a case of true love? If ever a man lost his head over a woman he has lost his over you, Daisy. And, at any rate, you must know that _I_ care nothing for him. You certainly could see where _my_ affections were engaged.”