CHAPTER IX.
Every evening after that during Lloyd's visit the fire burned on thehearth of the long drawing-room. All the wax candles were lighted, andthe vases were kept full of flowers, fresh from the conservatory.
She loved to steal into the room before her grandfather came down, andcarry on imaginary conversations with the old portraits.
Tom's handsome, boyish face had the greatest attraction for her.His eyes looked down so smilingly into hers that she felt he surelyunderstood every word she said to him. Once Walker overheard her saying,"Uncle Tom, I'm goin' to tell you a story 'bout Billy Goat Gruff."
Peeping into the room, he saw the child looking earnestly up at thepicture, with her hands clasped behind her, as she began to repeat herfavourite story. "It do beat all," he said to himself, "how one littlechile like that can wake up a whole house. She's the life of the place."
The last evening of her visit, as the Colonel was coming down-stairs heheard the faint vibration of a harp-string. It was the first time Lloydhad ever ventured to touch one. He paused on the steps opposite thedoor, and looked in.
"Heah, Fritz," she was saying, "you get up on the sofa, an' be thecompany, an' I'll sing fo' you."
Fritz, on the rug before the fire, opened one sleepy eye and closedit again. She stamped her foot and repeated her order. He paid noattention. Then she picked him up bodily, and, with much puffing andpulling, lifted him into a chair.
He waited until she had gone back to the harp, and then, with onespring, disappeared under the sofa.
"N'm min'," she said, in a disgusted tone. "I'll pay you back, mistah."Then she looked up at the portrait. "Uncle Tom," she said, "you be thecompany, an' I'll play fo' you."
Her fingers touched the strings so lightly that there was no discord inthe random tones. Her voice carried the air clear and true, and thefaint trembling of the harp-strings interfered with the harmony no morethan if a wandering breeze had been tangled in them as it passed.
"Sing me the songs that to me were so deah Long, long ago, long ago. Tell me the tales I delighted to heah Long, long ago, long ago."
The sweet little voice sang it to the end without missing a word. It wasthe lullaby her mother oftenest sang to her.
The Colonel, who had sat down on the steps to listen, wiped his eyes.
"My 'long ago' is all that I have left to me," he thought, bitterly,"for to-morrow this little one, who brings back my past with every wordand gesture, will leave me, too. Why can't that Jack Sherman die whilehe's about it, and let me have my own back again?"
That question recurred to him many times during the week after Lloyd'sdeparture. He missed her happy voice at every turn. He missed her brightface at the table. The house seemed so big and desolate without her. Heordered all the covers put back on the drawing-room furniture, andthe door locked as before.
It was a happy moment for the Little Colonel when she was lifted downfrom Maggie Boy at the cottage gate.
She went dancing into the house, so glad to find herself in her mother'sarms that she forgot all about the new cloak and muff that had made herso proud and happy.
She found her father propped up among the pillows, his fever all gone,and the old mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
He admired her new clothes extravagantly, paying her joking complimentsuntil her face beamed; but when she had danced off to find Mom Beck,he turned to his wife. "Elizabeth," he said, wonderingly, "what do yousuppose the old fellow gave her clothes for? I don't like it. I'm nobeggar if I have lost lots of money. After all that's passed between usI don't feel like taking anything from his hands, or letting my child doit, either."
To his great surprise she laid her head down on his pillow beside hisand burst into tears.
"Oh, Jack," she sobbed, "I spent the last dollar this morning. I wasn'tgoing to tell you, but I don't know what is to become of us. He gaveLloyd those things because she was just in rags, and I couldn't affordto get anything new."
He looked perplexed. "Why, I brought home so much," he said, in adistressed tone. "I knew I was in for a long siege of sickness, but Iwas sure there was enough to tide us over that."
She raised her head. "You brought money home!" she replied, in surprise."I hoped you had, and looked through all your things, but there was onlya little change in one of your pockets. You must have imagined it whenyou were delirious."
"What!" he cried, sitting bolt upright, and then sinking weakly backamong the pillows. "You poor child! You don't mean to tell me you havebeen skimping along all these weeks on just that check I sent you beforestarting home?"
"Yes," she sobbed, her face still buried in the pillow. She had bornethe strain of continued anxiety so long that she could not stop hertears, now they had once started.
It was with a very thankful heart she watched him take a pack ofletters from the coat she brought to his bedside, and draw out a sealedenvelope.
"Well, I never once thought of looking among those letters for money,"she exclaimed, as he held it up with a smile.
His investments of the summer before had prospered beyond his greatesthopes, he told her. "Brother Rob is looking after my interests out West,as well as his own," he explained, "and as his father-in-law is thegrand mogul of the place, I have the inside track. Then that firm I wentsecurity for in New York is nearly on its feet again, and I'll have backevery dollar I ever paid out for them. Nobody ever lost anything bythose men in the long run. We'll be on top again by this time next year,little wife; so don't borrow any more trouble on that score."
The doctor made his last visit that afternoon. It really seemed as ifthere would never be any more dark days at the little cottage.
"The clouds have all blown away and left us their silver linings," saidMrs. Sherman the day her husband was able to go out-of-doors for thefirst time. He walked down to the post-office, and brought back a letterfrom the West. It had such encouraging reports of his business thathe was impatient to get back to it. He wrote a reply early in theafternoon, and insisted on going to mail it himself.
"I'll never get my strength back," he protested, "unless I have moreexercise."
It was a cold, gray November day. A few flakes of snow were falling whenhe started.
"I'll stop and rest at the Tylers'," he called back, "so don't be uneasyif I'm out some time."
After he left the post-office the fresh air tempted him to go fartherthan he had intended. At a long distance from his home his strengthseemed suddenly to desert him. The snow began to fall in earnest. Numbwith cold, he groped his way back to the house, almost fainting fromexhaustion.
Lloyd was blowing soap-bubbles when she saw him come in and fall heavilyacross the couch. The ghastly pallor of his face and his closed eyesfrightened her so that she dropped the little clay pipe she was using.As she stooped to pick up the broken pieces, her mother's cry startledher still more. "Lloyd, run call Becky, quick, quick! Oh, he's dying!"
Lloyd gave one more terrified look and ran to the kitchen, screaming forMom Beck. No one was there.
The next instant she was running bareheaded as fast as she could go,up the road to Locust. She was confident of finding help there. Thesnowflakes clung to her hair and blew against her soft cheeks. All shecould see was her mother wringing her hands, and her father's whiteface. When she burst into the house where the Colonel sat reading by thefire, she was so breathless at first that she could only gasp when shetried to speak.
"Come quick!" she cried. "Papa Jack's a-dyin'! Come stop him!"
At her first impetuous words the Colonel was on his feet. She caught himby the hand and led him to the door before he fully realized what shewanted. Then he drew back. She was impatient at the slightest delay, andonly half answered his questions.
"Oh, come, gran'fathah!" she pleaded. "Don't wait to talk!" But he heldher until he had learned all the circumstances. He was convinced by whatshe told him that both Lloyd and her mother were unduly alarmed. When hefound that no one had sent for him, but that the child had come of herown acc
ord, he refused to go.
He did not believe that the man was dying, and he did not intend to stepaside one inch from the position he had taken. For seven years he hadkept the vow he made when he swore to be a stranger to his daughter. Hewould keep it for seventy times seven years if need be.
She looked at him perfectly bewildered. She had been so accustomed tohis humouring her slightest whims, that it had never occurred to her hewould fail to help in a time of such distress.
"Why, gran'fathah," she began, her lips trembling piteously. Then herwhole expression changed. Her face grew startlingly white, and her eyesseemed so big and black. The Colonel looked at her in surprise. He hadnever seen a child in such a passion before. "I hate you! I hate you!"she exclaimed, all in a tremble. "You's a cruel, wicked man. I'll nevahcome heah again, nevah! nevah! nevah!"
The tears rolled down her cheeks as she banged the door behind herand ran down the avenue, her little heart so full of grief anddisappointment that she felt she could not possibly bear it.
For more than an hour the Colonel walked up and down the room, unable toshut out the anger and disappointment of that little face.
He knew she was too much like himself ever to retract her words. Shewould never come back. He never knew until that hour how much heloved her, or how much she had come to mean in his life. She wasgone hopelessly beyond recall, unless--He unlocked the door of thedrawing-room and went in. A faint breath of dried rose-leaves greetedhim. He walked over to the empty fireplace and looked up at the sweetface of the portrait a long time. Then he leaned his arm on the manteland bowed his head on it. "Oh, Amanthis," he groaned, "tell me what todo."
Lloyd's own words came back to him. "She'd go right straight an' put herarms around my mothah an' kiss away all the sorry feelin's."
It was a long time he stood there. The battle between his love and pridewas a hard one. At last he raised his head and saw that the short winterday was almost over. Without waiting to order his horse he started offin the falling snow toward the cottage.
CHAPTER X.
A good many forebodings crowded into the Colonel's mind as he walkedhurriedly on. He wondered how he would be received. What if Jack Shermanhad died after all? What if Elizabeth should refuse to see him? A dozentimes before he reached the gate he pictured to himself the probablescene of their meeting.
He was out of breath and decidedly disturbed in mind when he walked upthe path. As he paused on the porch steps, Lloyd came running around thehouse carrying her parrot on a broom. Her hair was blowing around herrosy face under the Napoleon hat she wore, and she was singing.
The last two hours had made a vast change in her feelings. Her fatherhad only fainted from exhaustion.
When she came running back from Locust, she was afraid to go in thehouse, lest what she dreaded most had happened while she was gone. Sheopened the door timidly and peeped in. Her father's eyes were open. Thenshe heard him speak. She ran into the room, and, burying her head in hermother's lap, sobbed out the story of her visit to Locust.
To her great surprise her father began to laugh, and laughed so heartilyas she repeated her saucy speech to her grandfather, that it took theworst sting out of her disappointment.
All the time the Colonel had been fighting his pride among the memoriesof the dim old drawing-room, Lloyd had been playing with Fritz and Polly.
Now as she came suddenly face to face with her grandfather, she droppedthe disgusted bird in the snow, and stood staring at him with startledeyes. If he had fallen out of the sky she could not have been moreastonished.
"Where is your mother, child?" he asked, trying to speak calmly. Witha backward look, as if she could not believe the evidence of her ownsight, she led the way into the hall.
"Mothah! Mothah!" she called, pushing open the parlour door. "Come heah,quick!"
The Colonel, taking the hat from his white head, and dropping it on thefloor, took an expectant step forward. There was a slight rustle, andElizabeth stood in the doorway. For just a moment they looked into eachother's faces. Then the Colonel held out his arm.
"Little daughter," he said, in a tremulous voice. The love of a lifetimeseemed to tremble in those two words.
In an instant her arms were around his neck, and he was "kissing awaythe sorry feelin's" as tenderly as the lost Amanthis could have done.
As soon as Lloyd began to realize what was happening, her face grewradiant. She danced around in such excitement that Fritz barked wildly.
"Come an' see Papa Jack, too," she cried, leading him into the nextroom.
Whatever deep-rooted prejudices Jack Sherman may have had, they wereunselfishly put aside after one look into his wife's happy face.
He raised himself on his elbow as the dignified old soldier crossed theroom. The white hair, the empty sleeve, the remembrance of all the oldman had lost, and the thought that after all he was Elizabeth's father,sent a very tender feeling through the younger man's heart.
"Will you take my hand, sir?" he asked, sitting up and offering it inhis straightforward way.
"Of co'se he will!" exclaimed Lloyd, who still clung to hergrandfather's arm. "Of co'se he will!"
"I have been too near death to harbour ill will any longer," said theyounger man, as their hands met in a strong, forgiving clasp.
The old Colonel smiled grimly.
"I had thought that even death itself could not make me give in," hesaid, "but I've had to make a complete surrender to the Little Colonel."That Christmas there was such a celebration at Locust that May Lillyand Henry Clay nearly went wild in the general excitement of thepreparation. Walker hung up cedar and holly and mistletoe till thebig house looked like a bower. Maria bustled about, airing rooms andbringing out stores of linen and silver.
The Colonel himself filled the great punch-bowl that his grandfather hadbrought from Virginia.
"I'm glad we're goin' to stay heah to-night," said Lloyd, as she hung upher stocking Christmas Eve. "It will be so much easiah fo' Santa Clausto get down these big chimneys."
In the morning when she found four tiny stockings hanging beside herown, overflowing with candy for Fritz, her happiness was complete.
That night there was a tree in the drawing-room that reached to thefrescoed ceiling. When May Lilly came in to admire it and get her sharefrom its loaded branches, Lloyd came skipping up to her. "Oh, I'm goin'to live heah all wintah," she cried. "Mom Beck's goin' to stay heah withme, too, while mothah an' Papa Jack go down South where the alligatahslive. Then when they get well an' come back, Papa Jack is goin' to builda house on the othah side of the lawn. I'm to live in both places atonce; mothah said so."
There were music and light, laughing voices and happy hearts in the oldhome that night. It seemed as if the old place had awakened from a longdream and found itself young again.
The plan the Little Colonel unfolded to May Lilly was carried out inevery detail. It seemed a long winter to the child, but it was a happyone. There were not so many displays of temper now that she was growingolder, but the letters that went southward every week were full of herodd speeches and mischievous pranks. The old Colonel found it hard torefuse her anything. If it had not been for Mom Beck's decided ways, thechild would have been sadly spoiled.
At last the spring came again. The pewees sang in the cedars. Thedandelions sprinkled the roadsides like stars. The locust-trees tossedup the white spray of their fragrant blossoms with every wave of theirgreen boughs.
"They'll soon be heah! They'll soon be heah!" chanted the Little Colonelevery day.
The morning they came she had been down the avenue a dozen times to lookfor them before the carriage had even started to meet them. "Walkah,"she called, "cut me a big locus' bough. I want to wave it fo' a flag!"
Just as he dropped a branch down at her feet, she caught the sound ofwheels. "Hurry, gran'fathah," she called; "they's comin'." But theold Colonel had already started on toward the gate to meet them. Thecarriage stopped, and in a moment more Papa Jack was tossing Lloyd up inhis arms, while th
e old Colonel was helping Elizabeth to alight.
"Isn't this a happy mawnin'?" exclaimed the Little Colonel, as sheleaned from her seat on her father's shoulder to kiss his sunburnedcheek.
"A very happy morning," echoed her grandfather, as he walked on towardthe house with Elizabeth's hand clasped close in his own.
Long after they had passed up the steps the old locusts kept echoingthe Little Colonel's words. Years ago they had showered their fragrantblossoms in this same path to make a sweet white way for Amanthis'slittle feet to tread when the Colonel brought home his bride.
They had dropped their tribute on the coffin-lid when Tom was carriedhome under their drooping branches. The soldier-boy had loved them so,that a little cluster had been laid on the breast of the gray coat hewore.
Night and day they had guarded this old home like silent sentinels thatloved it well.
Now, as they looked down on the united family, a thrill passed throughthem to their remotest bloom-tipped branches.
It sounded only like a faint rustling of leaves, but it was the locustswhispering together. "The children have come home at last," theykept repeating. "What a happy morning! Oh, what a happy morning!"
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