[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

IT is a long time since I wrote a word in this book;
I have been so happy and so busy withal; visits,
rides, picnics, and everything. I did not know
that life was so bright and pleasant as I have found it here
in Morrisville, where everybody seems trying to entertain
me. Mattie's brother Charlie is here, but he behaves
like a man; does not annoy me one bit, but flirts shockingly
with Bell Verner, who flirts as hard in return. He
teasingly asked me one day about Dr. West, and when
Bell inquired who he was, he said he was `a country
doctor of little pills; a sort of lackadaisical chap, who
read service very loud, and almost touched the pew railing
when he bowed in the Apostles' Creed.'

“I grew so very angry defending Dr. West that Bell
honestly believes I care for him, and kindly stops Lieutenant
Reed when he begins his fun. I like Bell Verner more
and more, only she is too proud. How I cried over that
letter from Margaret telling me to come home, and how
I tried not to have Mr. and Mrs. Randall answer it; but
they did, and there came back such a nice response from

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

John. What a dear, unselfish man he is, and how smooth
he made it look,—so smooth that I really felt as if doing
him a favor by staying until Johnnie's letter was received,
and I guessed at once the storm through which they had
passed.

“Will I ever forget the day I received a letter from Dr.
West? I could scarcely credit my own eyes, yet there
was his name, Richard West, looking so natural. I felt
the blood tingling in my veins, even though he merely
wrote to ask me if he might read my books, the foolish
man! Of course he might. He says he misses me, and
this I think is why the letter is worth so much, and
why I answered it. Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but
I can't help it now. It is not at all likely he'll write
again, though I find myself fancying how I shall feel, and
what he would say in a second letter. Bell Verner knows
he wrote, for I told her, but pretended I did not care.
To-morrow I am going at last to see Mrs. David West.

“July 15th.—I have seen Mrs. David West; have
looked into her eyes, so like the doctor's; have heard her
voice; have seen the child; and oh! why am I so
wretched, and why, when I came back, did I tear up
that rose from Anna's grave and throw it to the winds?
I hate this room. I cannot bear it, for Anna used to
occupy it; she haunts me continually. She died in this
room. Richard kissed her here, and here that child was
born. Oh, what am I to think except what I do? And

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

yet it is all suspicion, based on what a gossiping woman
told me. I wish she had never come here. I would
rather have cooked the dinner myself than have heard
what I have.

“It was arranged that Mattie should go with me to see
this Mrs. David West, and I thought of little else all
the morning; but when dinner came Mattie had been
seized with one of her violent headaches, and it was impossible
for her even to sit up. Knowing how much I
had anticipated the call, and not wishing to have me disappointed,
she insisted that I should go without her,
Peter acting as my escort there, while the new cook, a
Mrs. Felton, who, it seems, had business on that street,
would call for me on her way home. This was the arrangement,
and at about four o'clock I started. I had in
some way received the impression that Mrs. David West
lived on Elm Street, and when we passed that point I
asked Peter if we were right.

“`Yes, miss, Grove Street,—just there a ways in the
neatest little cottage you ever set eyes on, I reckon.'

“Involuntarily I thought of the woman and child seen
that first evening of my arrival at Morrisville, and something
told me I was going straight to that cottage with
its roses, its vines, and bay-windows. The surmise was
correct. I knew the house in an instant, and had there
been a doubt it would have been dispelled by the widow's
cap and the little child out on the grass-plat, just where

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

they were that other summer day so like this and yet so
unlike it, for then I never guessed how sharp a pang I
should be suffering now.

“`There she is. That's Mrs. West with Robin,' Peter
said, and the next moment I was speaking to Mrs. David
West, and before she said to me, `You know my son,'
I felt sure she was the doctor's mother.

“The same fine cast of feature, the same kind, honest
expression beaming in the dark eye, and the same curve
of the upper lip,—said by some to be always indicative
of high breeding. The mother and son were very much
alike, except that she as a female was noticeable for a
softer style of beauty. I never saw one to whom the
widow's cap was so becoming. It seemed peculiarly
adapted to her sad, sweet face and the silken bands of
grayish hair, which it did not conceal. There was also in
her manner and speech a refinement which even Bell Verner
might have imitated with advantage. My heart
went out to her at once, and by the time I was seated in
the rustic chair, for I preferred remaining in the yard, I
felt as much at ease as if I had known her all my life.

“`This is Robin,' she said, turning to the child, who I
now discovered was a cripple in its feet, and unable to
walk. `Did Richard ever tell you of Robin?'

“There was a hesitancy now in her voice, as if she knew
Richard had never told me of him, and doubted her own
integrity in asking the question.

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

“`No,' I replied, `the doctor never told me of Robin,
nor yet of himself.'

“`Richard is very reticent,' she answered; and then
as she saw my glance constantly directed to Robin, she
evidently tried to keep me from talking of him by asking
numberless questions about Richard, and by telling me
what a good, kind child he was to her.

“It is true I did not suspect her then of such a motive,
but I can see now how she headed me off from the dangerous
ground on which I leaped at last, for I could not
resist the expression of that child's face, and breaking
away from what she was telling me of Richard, I knelt
by his chair, and kissing his round cheek, asked:

“`Whose boy are you?'

“`Papa Richard's and grandma's,' he replied, and then
there flashed upon me the thought that in spite of his
deep blue eyes and soft golden curls he was like Dr.
West. For an instant I was conscious of a sharp, stinging
pain, as I said to myself, `Was Dr. West ever married?
' Surely he would have told of that,—would at
some time have mentioned his wife, and with the pain
there came the knowledge that I did care more for Dr.
West than I had supposed; that I was jealous of the dead
woman, the mother of this child. Mrs. West must have
divined a part of my thoughts, for she said half laughingly,
like one under restraint:

“`He has always called my son “Papa Richard,” as he

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

is the only father the child ever knew,' and a shadow
flitted across her face as she directed my attention to a
tall heliotrope near by. But I was not to be evaded;
curiosity was aroused, and replying to her remark concerning
the heliotrope, I turned again to Robin, whose
little hand I now held in mine, and said, `He is your
grandchild?'

“Suddenly the dark eyes looked afar off as if appealing
to something or somebody for help; then they softened
and tears were visible in them.

“`Poor little Robin, he has been a source of great sorrow
as well as of comfort to me, Miss Freeman,' and
Mrs. West's delicate hand smoothed and unwound the
golden curls clustering around Robin's head. `So I
used to unwind her curls,' she continued abstractedly.
`Robin's mother. I must show you her picture when
we go in. She was very beautiful, more so than any one
I ever knew, and Richard thinks the same.'

“Again that keen pain, as of a sharp knife gliding
through my flesh, passed over me, but I listened breathlessly,
while still caressing the child she continued:

“`His mother was my adopted daughter: I never had
one of my own. Two sons have been born to me; one
I have lost,—and her breath came gaspingly like speaking
of the dead,—`the other you know is Richard. To all
intents and purposes Anna was my daughter, and I am
sure no mother ever loved her own offspring more than I

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

did Anna. O Anna darling, Anna darling! I never
dreamed, when I took her to my bosom, that she could—
O Anna!' and Mrs. West's voice broke down in a
storm of sobs.

“After this I could not ask her any more questions, and
in a kind of maze I followed her into the house, which
was a perfect little gem, and showed marks of most exquisite
taste. Some of the furniture struck me as rather
too heavy and expensive for that cottage, but I gave it but
little thought, so interested was I in what I had heard
and seen.

“`That is Anna,' Mrs. West said, pointing to a small
portrait hanging upon the wall just where the western
sunbeams were falling upon it and lighting it up with a
wonderful halo of beauty.

“Instantly I forgot all else in my surprise that anything
so perfectly beautiful could ever have belonged to a
human being, and with a scream of delight I stood before
the picture, exclaiming, `It is not possible that this
is natural!'

“`It is said to be,' Mrs. West rejoined, `though there
is a look in her eye which I did not notice until a few
months before she died. She was crazy at the last.'

“`Crazy!' I repeated, now gazing with a feeling of
pity upon the lovely face, which seemed imbued with life.

“I cannot describe that face, and I will not attempt it,
for after I had told of the dark blue eyes and curls of

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

golden hair, of the pure white skin and full ripe lips,
you, my journal, would not have the least idea of the
face, for the sweet, heavenly expression which made it
what it was can never be described on paper. The
artist had put it on canvas, so at least said Mrs. David
West, and I believed her, drinking in its rare loveliness
and repeating again, `Crazy—poor Anna! Was it for
long?'

“`No, not long; she died when Robin was born.'

“`And her husband; he must have been heart-broken,'
I ventured to say next, but if Mrs. West heard me, she
made no reply, and with my thoughts in a tumult, I
continued looking at the portrait until, suddenly remembering
the grave which had so interested me, I asked,
`How old was Anna when she died?'

“`Just twenty,' was the reply; while I rejoined, `I
am sure then I have seen her grave. It says upon the
stone, “Anna, aged 20.”

“`Yes, that's all Richard would have on the marble.
It almost killed Richard, but God has healed the wound
just as He will heal all hearts which go to Him.'

“I don't know why I said what I did next, unless it
were that I should have died if I had not. The words
were wrung from me almost against my will:

“`Was Richard Anna's husband?'

“`No, no, oh no, Richard was not her husband!' Mrs.
West replied, quickly.

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

“Heretofore she had answered my queries concerning
Anna with hesitancy, but the `No, no, oh no, Richard
was not her husband,' was spoken eagerly, decidedly, as
if it were a fact she would particularly impress upon my
mind. Then, as I stood looking at her expectantly, she
went on, but this time in the old, cautious manner:

“`I never knew who Anna's husband was. It is a sad
story, which I would gladly forget, but Robin's presence
keeps it in my mind,' and bowing her head over the
child, the poor woman wept passionately.

“`Poor grandma, don't cry. I love you! What
makes grandma cry over me so much, and look so sorry
at me? Is it because I am a little lame boy?'

“This Robin said to me, while he tried to brush away
the tears of her he called grandmother. He had not
talked much before, but what he said now went through
my heart, and kissing his forehead, I whispered:

“`People sometimes cry for joy.'

“`But she don't,' he said, nodding toward Mrs. West,
who left us alone while she bathed her face and eyes.
`She looks so sorry, and says, “Poor Robin,” so often.
I guess it's because my feet will never walk, that she
says that. I should cry too, but Papa Richard talked to
me so good, and said God made me lame; that up in
heaven there were no little cripples; that if I loved the
Saviour, and didn't fret about my feet, I'd go up there
some day; and since then I've tried hard not to mind,

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

and ever so many times a day I say softly to myself,
“Will Jesus help Robin not to fret because he's a poor
lame boy, of no use to anybody.” I say it way in my
mouth, but God hears just the same.'

“I could not answer for my weeping, but kneeling beside
the lame boy, I wound my arms around his neck,
and laid his curly head upon my bosom, just as I would
have done had it been Johnnie, Ben, or Bertie thus
afflicted.

“`Seems like you was most my mother,' he said,
caressing my cheek with his soft little hand. `You
don't look like her much, only I dreamed once she came
to me and loved me, as you do, and kissed my twisted
feet, oh! so many times. It was a beautiful dream, and
next day I told it to grandma, and asked her if she wasn't
sure my mother was in heaven! She did not answer
until I said again, “Is she in heaven?” Then she said,
“I hope so, Robin;” but I wanted to know sure, and
kept on asking, until she burst out with the loudest cry
I ever heard her or anybody cry, and said, “God knows,
my little Robin. He will take care of her. I hope she's
there!” but she wouldn't say for sure, just as she did
when the minister and Mrs. Terry's baby died. Why
not? Why didn't she? Lady, you look good. You
look as if you prayed. Do you pray?'

“`Yes,' I answered, wondering if he would call my
careless words a prayer.

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

“`Then lady,' and the deep eyes of blue looked eagerly,
wistfully at me, `then tell me true, is my mother in
heaven, sure?'

“What could I do,—I who knew nothing to warrant a
different conclusion,—what could I do but answer, `Yes.'
He believed me, the trustful, innocent child, clapping his
hands for joy, while the picture on the wall, wholly
wrapped in the summer sunshine, seemed one gleam of
heavenly glory, as if the mother herself confirmed the
answer given to her boy. He did not doubt me in the
least, neither did I doubt myself; Anna was safe, whatever
her sin might have been; whether the wife of one
husband or six, like the woman of Samaria, she surely
was forgiven.

“Mrs. West had now returned, her face as calm and
placid as ever, and her voice as low and sweet.

“`You have had a sad call, I fear,' she said. `Richard
would not like it if he knew how I had entertained you,
but I'll promise to do better next time, though I cannot
talk of Anna. Some day perhaps you may know all,
but I would rather it should be Richard who tells you.'

“She kept associating me with Richard, and though the
association was not distasteful, it puzzled me somewhat,
making me wonder if he had ever told her much of me.

“At that moment Mattie's new cook, Mrs. Felton, appeared,
curtseying with a great deal of humility to Mrs.
West, who did not seem especially pleased to meet

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

her. Still she greeted her kindly, and suffered her to
caress Robin, whom she called a `precious lamb,' a
`poor, little, stunted rosy,' and numerous other extravagant
names.

“`I'm back to the old place,' she said to Mrs. West,
when through with Robin, `but my, such a change!
'Tain't much such times as when you were there, I tell
you. Then we had a head; now we've none.'

“Mrs. West stopped her at this point by asking me to
come again, and saying she did not know Mrs. Randall or
she would call on me.

“`You might make the first advance,' I said. `You
have surely lived here longer than Mrs. Randall.'

“`Yes, I know,' and her pale face flushed up to her
soft grey hair. `But times have changed with me. I
do not go out at all.'

“`Come again,' Robin said, as I turned towards him;
`come again, lady; I likes you,' cause you seem some like
Papa Richard.'

“It grated harshly to hear the child say Papa Richard,
and involuntarily I asked, `Why he did not say Uncle
Richard? He is not your father,' I added, while the
child's eyes grew big with wonder, as he replied:

“`Then where is my father, I'd like to know?'

“Mrs. Felton laughed a hateful, meaning laugh, and
said:

“`Come, Miss Freeman, it's time we were going.'

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

“With another good-by for Robin I shook Mrs. West's
proffered hand, and was soon out in the street with Mrs.
Felton, who, when we were at a safe distance from the
house, remarked in a very disagreeable tone:

“`The cutest thing you ever did was to tell that child
not to call the doctor papa. I'd have broke him of it long
before this. It don't sound well, 'specially after all's
been said about Mr. Richard and Miss Anna.'

“I wouldn't question her, neither was there a necessity
for it, as she was bent on talking, and of the Wests, too.

“`I s'pose you know the doctor and his mother used to
own West Lawn?' was the next remark, which brought
to my mind the conversation between her and Mrs. West.

“`Used to own West Lawn!' I repeated, surprised out
of my cool reserve.

“`To be sure they did; but, for some unaccountable
reason which nobody ever knew, they sold it about the
time Anna died, and bought the place where they live
now. Of course when a person jumps right out of a good
nest with their eyes wide open, nobody but themselves is
to blame for where they land. Mrs. West held her head
as high as the next one, drove her carriage, and used
solid silver every day, and now its all gone. I lived with
her as chamber-maid for a whole year. I was Sarah Pellet
then.'

“I was too much interested to stop her, and suffered
her to go on.

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

“`I loved Miss Anna, even if she did turn out bad.
She was the sweetest-tempered, prettiest-wayed girl you
ever seen, and when they took her to the hospital I felt
as bad as if she'd died.'

“`To the hospital? The lunatic asylum? Did she go
there?' I asked; and Sarah Felton replied:

“`Oh yes; they hoped 'twould cure her. Seems's if
the trouble all come to once. First, there was Robert,
Richard's twin, who went off, or was murdered, and has
never been heard of since.'

“`Richard's twin brother ran off? When? How long
ago? How long before Anna died, I mean?' I asked,
stopping suddenly as a new light dawned upon me, only,
alas! to fade into darkness at the answer.

“`Oh, better than a year. Yes, a full year; for he'd
been gone a good spell before it was known to many. He
didn't live here; 'twas in New York, and he hardly ever
come home. He was a wild one, not much like Richard,
who was engaged to Anna, and that's what I can't make
out,—why he didn't marry her.'

“We were crossing a common now, where there were
rustic benches beneath the trees; and feeling that unless
I stopped I should fall, I was so faint and sick with what
I had heard, I said that I was tired; and seating myself
upon a bench, loosened my hat-strings and leaned against
a tree, listening, while my loquacious companion continued:

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

“`He was engaged for years, so I've heard, and I know
he thought a sight of her. It was fairly sickish to see
'em together, he with his arm round her and she a lettin'
her head, with them long curls, loll on his shoulder.
They was to be married the very day she died. 'Twas an
awful sight. I went away from them about the time
they sent her to the hospital; but I was back a spell, as
the chamber-maid was took sick, and so I was in it all.
Dr. Richard kissed her when she was dyin', and she whispered
something in his ear.'

“`But Robin,' I gasped; `Anna was surely married to
somebody.'

“Again the smile I had seen before and hated curled
her lip as she answered:

“`Yes, of course she was married, for she was a very
pious girl, runnin' Sunday-schools, belongin' to the
church, tendin' to the poor, and all that.'

“I knew that woman did not believe in Anna's piety,
but I did, and the belief gave me comfort as I gazed up
into the clear blue sky and said to myself, `She is
there.'

“Dimly I began to perceive why Mrs. West could not
tell Robin that his mother was in heaven sure; but I was
glad I had done so, without reasoning in the least upon
the matter. I exonerated Anna, and only wrote bitter
things against poor Richard, saying to the woman, `And
Richard kissed her when she was dying?'

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

“`Yes, up there where you sleep. That was Anna's
room, where she died, and where Robin was born. I
didn't see it, but them that told me did. Richard fell
as flat as if struck with lightning when he came up
from the office and heard what had happened, and six
hours after, when they said she was dyin' and had asked
for him, he had to be carried, he was so limpsy and
weak. She never noticed the child an atom, or acted as
if there was one, but would whisper, `Forgive,—I can't
tell,—I promised not. It's all right,—all right.' What
she meant nobody knows, for she died just that way, with
Richard's arm around her, and the doctor a-holdin' him,
for he was whiter than a rag, and after she was dead
he went into a ravin' fever, which lasted for weeks
and weeks, till the allopaths give him up. Then the
homopaths come in and cured him, and that's why
he turned into a sugar-pill doctor. He was one of the
blisterin' and jollup kind before his sickness, but after
that he changed, and they do say he's mighty skilful. As
soon as he got well they sold West Lawn, and Mrs. West
has never seemed like the same woman since. Folks
thinks they's poor, though what's become of the property
nobody knows. Anyways the doctor supports his mother,
sendin' her money every now and agen.'

“`But why,' I asked, `did Mrs. Randall and Bell Verner
never hear of all this?'

“`Easy enough,' was the reply. `Judge Verner only

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

moved here last fall, and Mr. Randall last spring. West
Lawn has changed hands three times since the doctor
owned it; so it's natural that his name shouldn't appear
in the sale. Then, it's seven years since it all happened,
and a gossiping place like Morrisville, where there are upwards
of three thousand folks, don't harp on one string
forever; only them that was interested, like me, remembers.
'

“This was true in detail, and was a good reason why
neither Bell nor Mattie had ever heard of Anna West, I
thought, as I dragged my steps homeward, hardly knowing
when I reached there, and feeling glad that Mattie was
still confined to her bed, as this left me free to repair at
once to my own room,—Anna's room,—where she died,
with her head on Richard's arm, and he so weak that he
had to be supported. Poor Richard! I do pity him,
knowing now why he so often seems sad. But what was
it? How is it, and what makes my brain whirl so fast?
Anna said with her dying breath that it was all right,
and I believe her. I will not cast at her a stone. She is
in heaven sure; yes, Robin, sure. And Richard fell as
if smitten with lightning when he heard of it! That betokened
innocence on his part. Then why this horrid
feeling? Is it sorrow that he cared for and loved her?
I don't know; everything seems so far off that I cannot
find it. What is the record? Let me see.

“Richard once lived here in this grand house; he has

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

met with reverses, nobody knows what; he has a brother
somewhere, nobody knows where; he supports his
mother, and this accounts for what I termed his stinginess.
How I hate myself, and how noble Dr. West
would appear were it not for,—for,—I cannot say it,—the
horrible possibility, and I,—I guess,—I think,—I am very
sure I did care for him more than I supposed.

“July 23d.

“I have been sick for many days, swallowing the biggest
doses of medicine, until it is a wonder I did not die.
It was a heavy cold, taken when sitting upon the common,
I heard Mattie tell Bell Verner when she came in
to ask after me, and so I suppose it was, though I am
sure my head would never have ached so hard if I had
not heard that dreadful story. I have thought a great
deal while Mattie believed me sleeping, and the result of
it is this: I hate Dr. West, and never desire to see him
again! There is something wrong, and I've no faith in
anybody.

“There's a letter from Margaret lying on the table.
They are at the Clarendon, which is a new hotel, smaller
than either the United States or Union Hall, but makes
up for its size in its freshness, its quiet, and air of homelike
comfort. At least so Margaret says; and although
she complains that she does not see so many people as she
would at the larger houses, she seems contented, and

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

speaks in raptures of her nice large rooms and their gentlemanly
host. I am glad she is satisfied, and that
Johnnie, at home, is, as he expresses it in a letter just received,
`as happy as a clam.'

“Accidentally I have heard that Robin is sick and has
sent for me. I must have slept for many hours, I think:
not a heavy, stolid sleep, as I was vaguely conscious that
Mattie stole in to look at me, and that Bell Verner, too,
was here. But I did not realize it all until at last I woke
and felt that I was better. The pain from the head was
gone, and the soreness from the throat, leaving only a
pleasant, tired feeling which I rather enjoy.

“In the other room Mattie and Bell were talking, as it
seemed, of me, for I heard Mattie say:

“`I wonder if she really does care about him?'

“`I think she does,' was Bell's reply, `for I remember
how annoyed she was when your brother teased her by
ridiculing his peculiarities. Poor girl! I half suspect
this has something to do with her illness. Mrs. Felton
has confessed having told her what she knew.'

“`She has? When?' and Mattie seemed surprised.

“`Why,' returned Bell, `that night I sat with Dora,
Mrs. Felton, you know, was with me a part of the time,
and once when Dora, in her disturbed sleep, was talking,
she moaned about Dr. West and Anna. “Poor lamb,
she's dwellin' on the young lady who died in this very
room,” Felton said; and when I inquired what young

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

lady, she told me all she knew, and more too, I think.
Afterwards I asked Mrs. Stryker if she ever heard of
Anna West, and she said, “Oh yes; she died just before
we came here. Everybody was talking about it;” and
then she told her story, which, of course, differed from
Mrs. Felton's about as much as is the difference in the
social position of the two women,—Felton seeing things
from her stand-point, and Mrs. Stryker repeating them
from hers. She said Mrs. West used to give elegant parties,
and Anna was always the star of the company. She
was so beautiful and attractive that young men could not
help admiring her, while Richard loved her very much,
and nobody now believe—'

“I covered up my head at this point, for I would not
listen to any more. After a little I heard some one coming
up the stairs, not quietly, soberly, as Mattie and Bell
had come, but noisily, rapidly, two steps at a time, trilling
a few notes from some opera, and when the music
ran high, absolutely breaking into a clear, decided whistle!
I was amazed, particularly as the next moment Bell
Verner said:

“`Hush-sh! Miss Freeman's asleep. You'll wake her
with your boy-ways!'

“`I don't care!” and the whistler evidently cut a pirouette.
`I'll try to wake her, unless you tell me quick
who is the handsomest man in town, the most distingué,
for I met him just now in the street, and fell in love at

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

once! Tall, broad-shouldered, with brown, dreamy eyes,
and the whitest teeth! Tell me quick, Bell! You
ought to know every marriageable man between the two
poles, for here you've been out just as many years as you
are older than I am, to wit, ten. Say, who was it?'

“`Jessie, do be quiet. How do I know?' Bell began,
and then I knew the noisy girl was Bell's young sister,
Jessie, who had just been graduated in Boston, and had
of course come home.

“She was a wild, rattle-brained creature, I was sure,
but her flow of spirits suited my mood, and for the sole
purpose of seeing her I called to Bell, who, the next moment,
was asking anxiously what I wanted.

“`I am better,' I said. `Am well; and I want you
to open the blinds so I can see; then all come in where I
can hear you talk. Who is that with the cheery whistle?'

“`Eureka! she thinks my whistle beautiful!' I heard
from the next room, while Bell replied:

“`It's sister Jessie. She came last night, and has nearly
driven us wild already with her fun and spirits. She
stopped for a few days at Saratoga, and saw your sister.
Shall I call her?'

“`Yes,' I said; and Jessie came at once,—a little fairy,
hoydendish creature, with the sauciest, merriest face, the
roundest black eyes, and a head covered with short,
black curls, which shook as she talked, and kept time
with the twinkle of her eyes.

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

“She kissed me heartily, and then, perching herself upon
the foot of the bed, told me about Saratoga,—what a
little paradise it was at the Clarendon,—so clean and nice;
what a splendid man the proprietor was, treating his
boarders as if they were invited guests; humoring everybody's
whim, even to muzzling the poor dog who barked
at night, thereby disturbing some nervous invalid,—told
me too what a love of a man she thought Squire Russell.

“`Mrs. Russell is your sister,' she went on, `and so
I say nothing of her, pro nor con, except that it must
be good pious work to live with her,' and the curls and
the eyes danced together.

“I could not be angry, and the gypsy rattled on:

“`But that Mr. Russell is my beau-ideal of husbands.
I made him promise if he ever was a widower, he'd take
me for his second wife. There's nothing I'd like better,
I told him, than to mother his six children. You ought
to have seen my lady then!' and the queer, little face
put on a look so like Margaret's that I could not forebear
laughing, knowing, as I did, how shocked my sister
must have been.

““`Husband,” she said, “I think it's wrong to trifle
with matters so sacred!” Whereupon the husband
meekly subsided, and fanned her connubially with the
Saratoga paper. Oh, he's a splendid fellow, but I used
to pity him evenings when I saw him standing over his
wife's chair, looking so wistfully at the dancers. She

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

wouldn't let him waltz,—thought it was very improper,
and I was told made several remarks not very complimentary
to my style of tripping the light fantastic toe.
She is rather pretty, and one night when she wore a pale
blue silk, with all her diamonds and point-lace, she was
the finest-looking woman in the room.'

“`She used to be very beautiful,' I said, feeling that
I must defend her, `but she is sadly broken, and no
wonder,—six children in twelve years!'

“`Yes, I know. It's perfectly dreadful, but if I had
forty children, I'd let my husband waltz and smoke.
Oh, I forgot, she don't let him smoke if she knows it,
and if by chance the poor fellow drew a whiff or two
down in the office, he had to walk round the south-east
corner of the building sixteen times to air himself.
There's the gate,—who's come?' and with this she bounded
from the bed and ran to the window to reconnoitre.

“`As I live,' she exclaimed, drawing back from the
window, `it's the very man I told you about, and he's
coming here.'

“`Don't be angry with her: she's a crazy child,' Bell
whispered, and I had just time to reply that I was not
angry, when the peal of the door-bell was distinctly heard,
and Jessie, by leaning over the bannisters, tried to hear
what was said.

“`It's about you,' and she darted back to my side.
`He certainly said Miss Freeman.'

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

“I don't know that I expected what followed, but my
breath came heavily, and I was not surprised when
Sarah, the maid, came up and handed me a card bearing
the name of Dr. West. He was in the parlor, and if I
could not go down he wished to see Mrs. Randall. Instantly
Mattie and Bell exchanged glances, while the
former said in an aside:

“`Can it be the child is so sick they have sent for
him?'

“`What child?' I exclaimed. `Who is sick. Is it
Robin?'

“`Yes,' Mattie answered, hurriedly. `We did not
think best to tell you when the message came, four
days ago. Robin West is very sick, and keeps asking
for the lady who said his mother was in heaven sure.
As you could not go, I went myself, learning by that
means many things concerning the family which I never
knew before. I liked Mrs. West very much. But what
shall I tell the doctor for you?'

“I felt irritated and annoyed that Mattie and Bell, and
so many, should know and talk about that story, and more
than all I was vexed that Bell should believe I cared for
the doctor, whose heart was buried in Anna's grave, and
I answered pettishly:

“`You needn't tell him anything.'

“Bell looked surprised, Jessie whistled, and Mattie
laughed, as she walked downstairs to receive her visitor.

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

“`I have only known you for half an hour, Miss Dora
Freeman,' Jessie said, saucily, `but if I am any judge
of the genus female-homo, you are desperately in love
with that man, and are jealous of somebody.'

“Bell shot at her a warning glance, which silenced her
for a moment, and in the pause I distinctly caught the
tones of Dr. West's familiar voice, though I could distinguish
nothing he said. He did not stay long, and
the moment his step was heard in the hall Jessie was at
her post at the window, ready to watch him as he went
down the walk. I think Bell wanted to look out, but
she was far too proud, and in spite of Jessie's entreaties
that she would come just for a minute and say if she ever
saw a more perfectly splendid man, she sat where she
was and waited for Mattie, who soon appeared, joining
with Jessie in praises of Dr. West. The most agreeable
person she had ever met, she said, and she wondered I
had not told them about him.

“I was so unamiable that I would not even ask when
he came to Morrisville, now why he had called; but Jessie
asked for me, and so I learned that he arrived at his
mother's the night previously, and in compliance with
Robin's repeated request that some one should go for
the lady, he had come himself. Robin was better, Mattie
said, and if no new symptoms appeared the doctor
would return to Beechwood the next day.

“All this while I asked no questions and volunteered

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

no remark, though in my own mind I resolved that so
soon as I was able, I would go to see Robin West. I
suppose I was beginning to look tired, as Bell said they
were worrying me too long, and, after some coaxing and
scolding, she persuaded her sister to leave with her.

“`Mind, now,' Jessie said to me, as she stood with her
hat poised on her short, thick curls, `if you are sure
you do not like this doctor, and wish to be rid of him;
I'll take him off your hands, and thank you, too. I've
a great mind to try the effect of my charms upon him:
shall I? You see, I am not going to wait, like Bell, till
I verge upon the serious yellow leaf. I am going to be
married. Au revoir!' and whistling `Hail to the
Chief,' she bounded down the stairs, three at a time, I
verily believe, for I trembled lest she should break her
neck, and felt relieved when her gay laugh sounded upon
the walk.

“The next thing which I heard was that Dr. West was
at Mr. Verner's, prescribing for Jessie's father, who had
been taken violently ill.”

p605-085

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