CHAPTER VII
AUNT MILLY'S STORY
When Nancy could stand the interval of quiet no longer, she went backto Miss Milly's door. She did not even knock. So sure was she offinding a crushed and heartbroken Aunt Milly within that she stooddumbfounded before the little creature who sat bolt upright upon thecouch.
"Come in, my dear--and close the door!"
Everything about Miss Milly seemed to say that "the worm has turned."There was a glow on her face different from that it had worn out in theorchard; it seemed to come from some fire within.
"Open every blind in the room, Nancy," she commanded in a tone that wasnew for Aunt Milly. "I might as well get what light I can in here.Now come and sit beside me."
For a moment Aunt Milly patted Nancy's hand and said nothing. Then shegave a little sigh.
"I can't _tell_ you, Nancy, I can't even _begin_ to tell you, whatyou've done for me--taking me out there! If I never go again, I've hadit once. And it's sort of stiffened something inside of me!"
She fell silent again. Nancy was wishing that she could have heardwhat had passed between Aunt Sabrina and Miss Milly that had left MissMilly so defiant!
Aunt Milly seemed to read her thought.
"She was dreadfully angry and it was partly because she wasfrightened--really frightened. You see, Nancy, sister Sabrina thinksthings must always go just so and that it's almost wicked totry--different things. She says--I've made my bed!"
"What _does_ she mean, Aunt Milly?"
"It's a long story, dear."
"I'd like to hear it, Aunt Milly."
"I suppose you ought to know--someone else may tell you, old Webb orB'lindy, or even Sabrina, though she'd rather die first! I think Iused to be something like you, Nancy, or I would have been, if ithadn't been for--the trouble!"
"Will it make you unhappy to tell it, Aunt Milly?"
"No, child. I used to lie here by the hour and think things over andover, but after awhile I got so things sort of blurred--I suppose Igrew resigned and all the fight inside of me died. There never wasmuch. You see Sabrina brought me up and she was as stern then as sheis now. Our father was like that, too. My mother died when I was ababy."
"When father died Sabrina had the care of me. I suppose she tried tobring me up well; she was very strict and--never seemed to understand!And when I was quite young I began to dream of getting away from theIslands. I wanted to go away to school somewhere and learn to dosomething--I did not much care what--that would keep me out in theworld. Finally I decided that I wanted to study music and then,sometime, teach it. It wasn't much to want, was it, dear? Butgoodness me, when I went to Sabrina with my plan she was terriblyangry. You might have thought I had suggested something wicked! Shesimply _couldn't_ understand! There was enough money for us both tolive on and she said I was selfish and inconsiderate to want to goaway. She talked a great deal about the Leavitt position and being alady and learning contentment, and the more she talked the morerestless and discontented I grew! And the more I dreamed of whatwaited out in the world beyond these little Islands.
"After a long while, Nancy, I made up my mind to go, anyway! It wasnot easy to do, because I'm not very brave, and the trouble we'd hadsort of made me hate to take any step that might make a break betweenSabrina and me. But I had to do it. I simply couldn't seem to face alife here. That's hard for you to believe, isn't it, dear? But I_was_ a different creature, then. Well, one night I packed someclothes and slipped away. I walked to North Hero and caught the trainfor Burlington. I was going from there to--to New York."
Breathlessly, Nancy whispered, "What happened then?"
"The train was wrecked outside of Burlington!"
"_Oh_--Aunt Milly!"
"I was terribly hurt. I lay for weeks in a hospital in Burlington andthey didn't know whether I'd live or die! I wish----" she stoppedshort. "No, I don't! I'm _glad_ I didn't die. Then they brought mehome--like this!"
"Poor, poor little Aunt Milly!"
"But, listen, child--that isn't half all. It seems that on the sametrain was a young man from North Hero whom I had always known--andliked. But Aunt Sabrina had never approved of him, and long before shehad forbidden his coming here. I did see him sometimes, though--Iloved company and he was entertaining. There had never been more thana pleasant friendship between us, and I had not dreamed that he wasgoing to Burlington on that train. He was killed. And when I cameback from the hospital the story was on every tongue that I had beenrunning away with Charlie Prince!"
"Oh, I was hurt in every part of me--my body and my soul and my mind!My precious dreams had crumbled forever and ever. And I had to facethat dreadful scandal! Not that I ever saw a soul--Sabrina took careof _that_! She kept me shut up as though I had the plague. Butthrough her reproachful eyes I was made to see the accusations of everyman, woman and child on the Hero Islands. And I couldn't _make_ herbelieve it wasn't so! She simply wouldn't talk about it. She wentaround with that dreadful look, day after day, and when she'd sayanything at all, it was about how I had brought shame to the Leavittname. And after awhile I began to feel as though I _had_ donesomething--more than just run away to study music. She made meunderstand that the only way I could atone for it all was by buryingmyself within these four walls."
"Then _that's_ what she means by 'making your bed.'"
"Yes, dear, I was so crushed that I came to believe she was right. Godknew that all I had wanted when I went away was a right to my own wayof living, but His ways are inscrutable and His Will has to be done!Sabrina called it the sword of wrath and the justice of the Almighty,and it didn't make much difference to me _what_ it was called--I washere. That's my story, dear, that's the way I've lived until--to-day.But you've changed it. Something inside of me that I thought wasdead--isn't dead at all! Do you know what I told Sabrina? I told herI didn't _care_ what she thought, that I guessed when a woman was fortyyears old and over she could decide things for herself and if justgoing out there in the orchard was wicked, then I'd go on being_wickeder_! That's what I told her. Dear, dear, you should have seenher face!"
"Hurrah, hurrah, Aunt Milly!"
"Poor Sabrina, I never spoke like that in my life to her! I've alwaysbeen so--_afraid_, until to-day! I don't know what she'll do now. Youmust not blame her too much, Nancy dear, it's the Leavitt trouble thathas made her what she is--it shadowed all our lives!"
"Aunt Milly, what was the Leavitt trouble?"
Aunt Milly looked distressed. "Then you _don't_ know? I shouldn'thave spoken of it! I promised Sabrina I wouldn't speak to you--aboutit."
"But, Aunt Milly, I have a--a right to know, haven't I? Even Webbhinted about it, and it makes me feel as though I was--well, on theoutside of things, to be kept in ignorance."
Miss Milly regarded her for a moment. "I _told_ Sabrina that youwouldn't know! But may be you ought to. Somehow, telling things, too,makes them seem not so dreadful! I believe we Leavitts lock troublesaway too much--don't air them enough, maybe. Sabrina thinks it's asdreadful now as it was the day it happened. It was about our brother.He was a year older than Sabrina. He wasn't at all like her, though,nor like my father. He was gay and handsome, and high-spirited anddreadfully extravagant. When I was very small I used to be frightenedat the quarrels between him and my father--and they were always overmoney.
"One night--he had come home just before supper after being away for aweek, no one knew where, and my father was very angry about that--theyhad a quarrel that seemed more bitter than any other. Besides, therewas a thunder-storm that made it seem worse. I had been sent to bed,but the lightning had frightened me, and I had crept downstairs to thesitting-room. I opened the door. They were all three--for Sabrinaalways sided with my father--talking so loudly they did not hear me.My father's face frightened me more than the lightning and my brother'shad turned dead white. I think my father had just offered him somemoney, for his wallet was in his hand and on the floor lay a bill, asthough my brother
had thrown it back. I began to cry and ran back tomy room, more frightened by them than by the storm. And I lay there inmy bed for hours, waiting for something to happen!"
"About midnight one dreadful bolt of lightning struck the house. Itshattered the chimney all to pieces on the outside and inside, filledthe sitting-room with dust and pieces of mortar, cracked the mantel andmoved it an inch and a half from the wall. But no one thought much ofall that, because something far more dreadful had happened! My brotherwas gone and my father's wallet, the one I had seen in his hand, wasmissing. He remembered laying it on the mantel and my brother andSabrina had seen him do it. It had contained over a thousand dollarsin bank notes. The next day my father found out that my brother hadtaken the early train out of North Hero. I was too young to understandmuch about it, but I used to pray, first, that my brother would comeback and tell them he _didn't_ take the wallet and then I'd pray thathe'd never, never come back, so that they couldn't put him in prison."
"That must have been Anne's grandfather," Nancy was thinking.
"He did come back, three weeks later," Miss Milly went on, "and therewas a scene much worse than the night of the storm. They forgot I wasin the room. My father accused my brother of stealing the wallet andrefused to let him say a word. 'I want no lies added to your othersins,' was what he said--I can hear him now. And my brother looked asthough something had struck him. Then my father told him that if he'dtake himself off and never darken the doors of Happy House again, norcommunicate with his family in any way, the matter would be droppedforever--for the sake of the Leavitt name. My brother stood there fora moment; I remember, I wanted to run to him! Oh, I've wished I_had_--so often! But I was afraid of Sabrina--and my father. And thenmy brother turned and walked out of the room--and out of thedoor--and--down the path--and----"
Poor Miss Milly, worn out by the excitement of the day, began to crysoftly.
Nancy had to jerk herself to break the spell of the story. Her facewrinkled in a frown. "It--is--dreadful, isn't it, Aunt Milly? I don'tmean his spending money and running debts and things, Imean--your--your father's horrid--_mercilessness_! Why, the courtsdon't treat the worst criminals like that! And they call it Leavittpride--and honor! _I_ call it injustice. I wish you _had_ just run upand kissed him, then. It might have made everything so different!"
"So _that's_ why I can't speak of Anne's father or grandfather," Nancywas thinking back of her frown. "And that's why Anne knew so littleabout her aunts!" Then aloud: "I'm glad you told me, Aunt Milly.It'll help us--be pals. We'll have other afternoons--like to-day--outin the sunshine. But now you must rest. And I'll get ready to faceAunt Sabrina!"
"She'll be dreadfully cross," sighed Miss Milly, with the glow all gonefrom her face.
"I'm not a bit afraid," and Nancy meant it, for within her breastsmouldered such righteous indignation at Miss Sabrina and her preciousancestors that she welcomed the challenge.
Dressing hurriedly for supper Nancy's eye caught the letter to Clairelying on her bureau. It seemed to her as though hours and hours hadpassed since she had so flippantly bade Claire "pray for me!"
She wanted to open the letter and dash off another page to tell Claireof all that had happened and how the "mystery" was a mystery no longer.Then, with the envelope in her hand, she remembered that it concernedAunt's grandfather and that, perhaps, _she_ had no right to tell! Butshe did open the sheet and scribble across the top: "All sorts ofthings have happened since I wrote this, and I may be back with you anymoment. I can't tell you yet all about it, but I can say this, that Ihate Happy House and I'm glad as can be that I'm only a pretendReal-Leavitt! Everybody isn't horrid, though, that nice old Webb builtthe cosiest seat up in my tree and surprised me."
In exactly twenty minutes, by the hands of her small watch, she mustmeet Miss Sabrina! Anyway, she could tell her just what she thoughtabout the whole thing, for, without any doubt she'd be sent away! Butthere was Aunt Milly--she had promised Aunt Milly that there would bemore afternoons in the orchard. Somehow she must fix that.
"I know," she waved her brush in mid-air, "I'll get Belinda!"