Edith gave a gasp when she saw the noble form of her brother enter the door at her father’s side; but she welcomed him by laying her white round arm about his neck and kissing him. Hilda stood for a moment looking from one to another in a bewildered manner, then a bright light almost transfigured her face. Gliding to her father’s side she surprised that individual by winding her arms about his neck and pressing her fresh dewy lips to his. Then laying her cheek to his whispered:
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
What was it that arose in his throat and dimmed his eye? When had a sweet woman’s kiss been pressed upon his lips before. He laid a trembling hand upon the back of a chair to steady himself while his eyes followed the hazel-eyed girl—so like the Erna of long ago. For just one moment it had seemed to him that it had been she who whispered that “Thank you.” That it had been her cheek resting against his. A sigh escaped his lips as he thought of how short duration had been their happiness. Why had it been so short? Even now he could not understand; but he felt a glow of satisfaction, such as he had not known in many a long year, as he watched the group of three. For the first time a feeling of conscious pride swelled in his heart at the thought that they were his children. Mrs. Wallace, when she entered the room in her sweeping robes was not exactly delighted when the guest of the evening was introduced to her, but had enough of good grace to tender him a kindly welcome when she heard of the service he had rendered her own son. Besides this splendid young giant commanded her respect whether she would or not. She always did admire handsome men, and Wilbur was decidedly handsome. So once more—what he believed would never again be possible—Wilbur found himself sitting at his father’s table, partaking of his bread, of his hospitality, and felt conscious that he was doing right; knew that his idolized sisters sanctioned it. Both were extremely happy and, conscious of that happiness, Wilbur felt as if inspired, and talked as he had never before talked. His sisters were proud of him and his father was surprised and astounded at the store of knowledge he possessed, at the ideas that had possession of his active brain, and a new light dawned upon his mind.
It was, he now began to see, this brother who had been the teacher of the sisters, developing them into the splendid independent women that they were. Even Mrs. Wallace became interested, although most of that which he said was as so much Greek to her. It was of so foreign a nature to her. She found more to disagree with than agree to, yet she found herself listening to every word. Stranger than all, Homer was aroused; his senses were alert. Where had he ever heard such doctrines propounded before? Certainly not in such a strain. Yet he had heard them, and with his mates of the boarding school had jeered and laughed and scoffed at what they termed “would-be-reformers.” Now he began to see how much superior were these thoughts when compared with the useless studies with which his head had been crammed, and with the teachings of the dime novels which he and his mates had devoured—inflaming their passions and leading to the formation of vile habits.
While Wilbur was speaking he had been watching the flushing and paling face of the boy. A suspicion of what made him languid and nervous and sullen forced itself upon his mind and he forthwith made up his mind to take the lad in hand. He also observed that none of the other children possessed a healthy color, but with this one he was, for the moment, most interested. He remained all the afternoon, partaking again of the evening meal, thereby causing him to draw still nearer to the slumbering heart and senses of Homer; at the same time winning his way into the hearts of all the others. So when after supper as usual a double-seated cutter drawn by a span of fiery horses came dashing to the door, Wilbur surprised that young gentleman by inviting him to join them.
“It will do him good,” he said, glancing at his father.
Thus Homer made the acquaintance of this circle which was to influence all his after-life. As soon as an opportunity offered Wilbur drew young Arthurs aside and had a prolonged conversation with him, their eyes frequently resting on the pale face of the boy. Presently Mrs. Leland was also drawn into the conversation and when it ended all understood what was expected of them.
Mrs. Leland drew near the boy who was a stranger in their midst, and in a pleasant motherly fashion began to talk to him, gradually drawing him out, finding much intelligence stored away in the youthful mind but which had all been going to waste for the want of a guiding hand and skillful touch to turn it into proper channels. Edith and Hilda watched while a feeling of joy filled their hearts. Was there really something more than self-will, indolence and haughty overbearing in the nature of the boy, hidden beneath that repellant exterior? Presently it was Imelda’s turn to exert her gentle influence on him in her bright, animated manner, and when Cora’s voice filled the large room with a burst of song he felt as if lost in a new world. The two sisters knew he was taken care of, and in their turn devoted themselves to the invalid. Poor Frank! They had the satisfaction of seeing his face light up and the color come and go in the wan cheeks. He had learned to love the circle which nightly met here, where naught but love seemed to reign, while Mrs. Leland was almost worshipped by him. Was ever mother so kind to erring boy before? If his own mother—but here he stopped. She too had been erring, suffering. She belonged to his wasted past. She had been an over-indulgent mother to him, in spite of her fretfulness and peevishness, and at this late day he felt that it would be wrong for him to throw a stone upon her grave. While Hilda toyed with his white hand Edith was standing at the back of his chair, smoothing back the clustering locks from his brow. A sense of peace and quiet came over him, such as he had not known in the olden days. Now and then a much meaning look passed between the young physician and the elder sister, calling forth a warmer hue to the fair cheek. Hilda enjoyed the same kind of by-play with Lawrence, to whom it seemed impossible to gain more than a few moments at a time at her side, while Mrs. Leland was more successful with her boy lover. When the good nights had been spoken and our party was whirling homeward, Homer was very quiet, He was deeply impressed with all he had seen and heard, and his thoughts were busy.
Next morning, earlier far than had been Homer’s habit to rise, two strong, young figures appeared at the door asking admittance, and sending the merry tinkle of the bell through the rooms. Wilbur and Osmond, ready for a hunting trip, had come to take Homer with them. The boy was tired from being out so late the evening before, and at first was not at all inclined to join them. It seemed he could not muster enough of will force to face the crisp morning air, while Mrs. Wallace objected with all her strength, being positively sure that her darling would take cold because he was not at all strong. But Wilbur carried his point. A half hour later, warmly clad and well equipped for their day of sport they set out, being soon joined by Dr. Arthurs, Norman and Westcot, they formed quite a party of hunters. As they started away from the Westcot home a pair of dark eyes, watching them from the window of the invalid, grew dim and a pair of lips quivered in helpless longing. But fair woman’s hands took him in tow and made it so pleasant and entertaining that he forgot the manly sports the others were following.
The hunters were out long hours. Up hills and down valleys, through woods and meadows, across rocks and frozen brooks they went. Warming to the excitement of the sport, which sent the blood bounding through his veins Homer forgot he was weak and tired. The reaction set in, however, and when they returned he slept long hours, but when the evening came he was ready and anxious to go to the home of the Westcots.
Next morning another excursion had been planned and again they carried Homer with them. This time they managed to take Elmer also, in spite of the protests of the anxious mother who saw certain death in store for her pampered darlings—tramping about these rough mornings through the snow; and when she saw them return so tired they almost fell asleep on their feet she felt more anxious than ever. Soon, however, a change made itself manifest. They were less fretful and discontented. Their eyes were brighter, a more healthy color tinged their cheeks, while they ate with an apparent appetite.
Paul Arthurs now frequently called at the house. He also prescribed a new course for the younger children. He forbade sweetmeats, spices and condiments. A simple diet of bread, milk and grain foods, fruits and nuts, he told the mother, was far more wholesome than the meats and highly seasoned food they had hitherto been accustomed to.
“Give them a daily bath, then rub them until a warm glow shows itself; then plenty of outdoor exercise. The cold will not hurt them, but rather benefit them. Let them go coasting, skating and snowballing until they are tired out, so tired that they scarce can keep on their feet, and my word for it, Madame, if you follow this course, you will soon have the satisfaction of seeing the glow of health in the faces of your children. They need no medicine. They are suffering from a nervous debility that only exercise in the open air and wholesome simple food will correct. I look to you,” turning to Edith, “to see that these directions are carried out. You understand, I am sure?”
Edith as well as Hilda did understand. The young doctor as well as the girls did not dare to tell Mrs. Wallace the true reason of the delicate state of health of all her children—that the seeds thereof had been sown in the abominable boarding schools she would have considered highly improbable. At however slight intimation of the real cause she would have been liable, in her passion, to turn them all from the house and thus her children would have been robbed of the only chance of regaining their health. So they wisely kept the secret they had penetrated and insisted on a course of treatment that these pampered darlings thought extremely cruel. But soon the effect was apparent, and there was hope that the morbid cravings might be destroyed, and a strong and pure manhood and womanhood be secured to them in the future.
So it was that a new life entered this house, and in a manner scarcely noticeable. A better footing was established between the stepmother and the daughters. There was more peace and quiet. Once in a while the order was reversed and the circle would gather in the Wallace home, but not often. There were many reasons why it should not be the same. The visitors were made welcome, it is true, but the entertainers must at all times be guarded in their speech. They could not be quite themselves; and then Frank never gathered enough strength to bear the fatigue of the drive back and forth in the cold night air. One or the other would remain at home with him, as in spite of his protests his sisters and friends would not consent to leave him alone.
Mr. Wallace had tried hard to induce Wilbur to take up his abode in his house during his stay in the city, but in this the son was obdurate. He had buried and consigned to oblivion much of the past, for the sake of his sisters and also for the sake of those other children who were also his brothers and sisters, and whom he would, as it were, snatch from an early grave, but he could not bring himself to lay his head on the pillow beneath the roof that should have been a loving shelter to his own precious mother; in the home of the man who should have loved and cherished instead of driving her with his criminal neglect to a watery grave. When such thoughts came to him it was all he could do to curb the ill-will that would fill his heart, and only by the force of his strong will did he succeed in banishing a feeling of hatred.
Meanwhile Wilbur became more dear day by day, to the father, whose heart went out to the children of his first marriage as it had never done to the younger ones.
Thus the weeks passed away and Christmas was drawing near when the mail brought a letter from Margaret to her mother. A cry of joy broke from her lips as she read its contents.
“What is it?” cried the girls in chorus.
“O, listen! It is almost too good to be true!”
“And now, dearest mamma, let me wind up this epistle by a little bit of news. By some strange and opportune circumstance we have no engagement for two weeks, beginning with Christmas morning, and now I mean for a short time to join that precious circle of which I have heard so much. O, you don’t know how impatient I am as the time draws near. I am longing, am homesick for you all. It is sweet, this thing called fame and homage, to be greeted and rewarded with applause, but the heart-felt affection of your loved ones is something different, and O, so much more satisfying.”
This indeed was news and joy. Imelda knelt at Mrs. Leland’s side, laying her head upon her motherly knee,
“O, I am so glad, so glad! for once our circle will be complete.” Glancing up, her eyes met those of Cora. The look of pain and silent reproach therein pierced to her very heart. Hastily rising, with a quick step she was at Cora’s side, winding her arms about her she laid her face to hers.
“Forgive me, little sister. For a moment I forgot that we cannot be complete until one more noble man, your own Owen, shall have joined us.”
Cora smiled through her tears.
“There is nothing to forgive, only sometimes I grow so hungry, so heart hungry, so love hungry. I know everyone here loves me, yet——”
“Yet the supreme love, the love of him who makes life’s sunshine for you, is wanting; is not that so? But why, little one, do you not send him the word which will bring him to you?”
“I do not know; but I have the feeling that for some reason it would be useless. I will wait a little while longer.”
So a few more days went by and at last Christmas morning dawned. A solitary watcher paced up and down the platform in front of the depot awaiting the arrival of the incoming train, his impatience not permitting him to seek the warmth indoors as many others were doing. Up and down, up and down, he paced, the dark eyes glowing in their suppressed eagerness when at last the whistle sounded on the clear, crisp air and a few minutes later the thundering train discharged its load of human freight, and was again putting away on its eastern course. A tall, fair-haired woman was seen casting searching glances about when a pair of arms were laid upon her shoulders. She was gently turned about, almost at the same moment a pair of moustached lips pressing hers,
“Margaret, my rare, sweet Margaret!”
“Wilbur!” Another kiss followed, then quickly she was assisted to a seat in the waiting cutter, snugly tucked in with warm robes and furs and in a few minutes more they were speeding along over the frozen snow.
“My mother, is she well? and Imelda, and Alice, and her babies, and all the rest whom I have not seen, are they all well and happy?”
Wilbur laughed. “One question at a time if you please, my girlie. But as to each and all I can give the same answer, so will I answer them all at once with the one little word ‘Yes,’ and they have sent me along to greet you, not but one and all are just as eager and impatient to greet and welcome my darling. Only they have kindly conceded the privilege to me to be the first to embrace my girlie, for which I certainly am thankful. For when that bevy of women once have you in their clutches—there now! I retract that word, but it is certain when they have secured you I may not hope to again speak to you in a hurry. For some time at least they will own you.”
By this time they were leaving the turmoil and noise of the city in their rear and as the roads were quiet and deserted, the arm of the young driver gently stole about the slender waist of the woman at his side. Nothing loath the fair head rested against his shoulder while the blue eyes looked up into the black ones with love unutterable. Again their lips met in a clinging kiss.
“O sweetheart and lover, it seems so good once more to be able to nestle in your arms.”
To press her still more closely was his only answer. Thus laughing and talking, loving and kissing, they enjoyed to the utmost that drive in the crisp, cold air, and soon they arrived at their destination, where many open arms were extended to receive the fair Margaret.
“My darling!” and
“My own mamma!” were the caressing words exchanged as Mrs. Leland folded her daughter to her heart. But not for long was she permitted to hold her there. Imelda’s brown eyes were beaming with love and pleasure. Alice was eager for a kiss, her two pretty babies wanted to be noticed by this new auntie. Then Imelda drew her aside where the hazel-eyed Cora was standing with one arm laid lovingly about the shoulders of a pale-faced young man. Margaret needed no introduction. By letter she had long since known of the finding of both of Imelda’s wayward ones, and a single glance told her all. She took the girl’s face between her hands and gently kissed the cherry lips.
“I am so glad for your own as well as for Imelda’s sake.”
This was her greeting and Cora understood, for her eyes filled with tears. Frank’s hand she took between both of hers and knelt at his side.
“And you are the brother I have so often heard her speak about. For Imelda’s sake you must be my brother also, as my own brother has been absent for so long a time I can scarce remember him.”
Frank’s face became sad and his eyes misty.
“O, but your own brother is so much more deserving than I. Would that my record were as clean.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not so downcast and self-reproachful, my boy. We are so much the creatures of circumstances we cannot well help doing just the things we do. The past you have done with, only the future is yours, to make that what it should be will be your task, your duty, your pleasure.”
In his turn Frank shook his head.
“No! no! even that boon will be denied me. My bad deeds can’t be undone; to atone for them will not be permitted me. My days, my hours, even, are numbered. No, no, please don’t. I understand what you would say. Why should such a truth-loving woman as you seek to deceive me. I know it all, and I suppose it is best so. Look, there at your mother’s side another awaits to welcome you, one who is nearer and dearer to you than such a poor wreck of humanity as I could ever dare hope to be.”
Following the direction indicated by Frank Margaret saw, standing at her mother’s side, an arm thrown caressingly about her shoulders, a young man as yet almost a boy, fair sunny locks thrown carelessly back from a broad and open brow, a look of longing in the frank blue eyes, and suppressed emotion quivering about the sensitive mouth.
Slowly Margaret drew herself up to her full height, with her eyes fastened on that boyish and yet manly form. Was it—O was it——? Her mother’s hand went up to his face and drew it close to her own, holding it there, the other hand she extended to her daughter. With bated breath Margaret crossed the room.
“Is it——”
“Your brother.”
Then both of Margaret’s hands were extended and both were clasped firmly and tenderly, and,
“Margaret!”—spoken in a breath, and Margaret knew that at last her mother had her heart’s one desire; her boy, her baby is once more her own, and the sister is clasped in her brother’s embrace.
“O, this is indeed a merry Christmas, and you are the nicest Christmas gift I could have wished for. But how is it, mamma, that you have not written this to me?”
“Because I so sincerely hoped and believed that you would make it possible to spend a week with us, and I wanted to surprise you. Have I succeeded?”
“Indeed you have, my darling mamma. But is this boy always so tongue-tied, having just nothing at all to say?”
Osmond laughed,
“I believe you are a saucebox! But that isn’t a bit nice of me, is it? to call you names in the first moments of our acquaintance—with the first words I address to you. I promise you to try and do better and say something nice. I don’t believe you are easily spoiled and feel that I may tell you, that already I am proud of my sister. I think they have named you well—Margaret. A daughter of the Gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair——”
“For shame, Osmond; to try to pay your sister compliments in such wornout phrases.”
A laugh followed and the ice was broken. Margaret felt and knew that she should love this brother. As the days of the following week glided by she gradually came to know all there was to tell and to learn. Osmond told her all about the father who opposed his coming here, when by accident he discovered that it was the boy’s mother he daily went to see; of the battle he had fought and how he had come off conqueror; of how there had been much in common between them; but that of late he was daily drifting more and more away from his father; then of how he had come into this circle, and how he had gradually come to hear and then understand their ideas; how he had come to know and understand what true womanhood and manhood were, what they meant, and that he now knew that his mother and sister were sweet and pure and true, notwithstanding the teachings of his father.
Then Margaret had come to know the sisters of Wilbur, and knew not which was the most love-worthy, the stately Edith or the sweet, gentle Hilda. She saw the heightened color in the cheeks of the former when the young physician was holding her attention; she saw the sparkling light in the eyes of the latter and the answering light in those of Lawrence Westcot; the adoration in Imelda’s glance as it rested on the splendid figure of Norman Carlton, whom indeed she found to be all her friend had said of him. “One of nature’s noblemen” was the best she knew how to describe him. But to which, indeed, of the manly faces and forms should she not have applied the same appellation? And O, how she enjoyed the society of this bright circle! how swiftly the hours and days flew by. How soon she knew her short vacation would be over and that again she must away to her work.
She loved her work but she could not help feeling sad that her visit would be of such short duration. She would nestle closer to Wilbur’s side, and just a little more passion would creep into her kisses, when she was folded against his heart, at the thought of the coming separation.
So the first week of her vacation neared its close, and all felt more than ever before the rapid flight of time, when one evening Norman joined the circle holding a telegram aloft.
“Look,” he said, “this announces the visit of a friend of olden days, a college mate, a most precious friend whom I will turn over to the tender mercies of our ladies; a splendid fellow, wholesouled and true. Maybe you girls can make another addition to our circle. He is well worth the winning, though he be a married man.”