CHAPTER IX.
"SOMETHING BLUE"
A rainy day followed the lawn fete, such a steady pour that littlerivers ran down the window-panes, and the porches had to be abandoned.But nobody lamented the fact that they were driven indoors. Rob andJoyce began a game of chess in the library. Lloyd and Phil turned overthe music in the cabinet until they found a pile of duets which theyboth knew, and began to try them, first to the accompaniment of thepiano, then the harp.
Mary, sitting in the hall where she could see both the chess-players andthe singers, waited in a state of bliss to be summoned to thesewing-room. Only that morning it had been discovered that there wasenough pink chiffon left, after the bridesmaids' gowns were completed,to make her a dress, and the seamstress was at work upon it now. So itwas a gay, rose-colored world to Mary this morning, despite the leadenskies and pouring rain outside. Not only was she to have a dress, thematerial for which had actually been brought from Paris, but she was tohave little pink satin slippers like the bridesmaids, and she was tohave a proud place in the wedding itself. When the bridal party camedown the stairs, it was to be her privilege to swing wide the gate ofroses for them to pass through.
Joyce had designed the gate. It was to be a double one, swung in thearch between the hall and the drawing-room, and it would take hundredsof roses to make it, the florist said.
In Mary's opinion the office of gate-opener was more to be desired thanthat of bridesmaid. As she sat listening to the music, curled up in abig hall chair like a contented kitten, she decided that there wasnobody in all the world with whom she would change places. There hadbeen times when she would have exchanged gladly with Joyce, thinking ofthe artist career ahead of her, or with Betty, who was sure to be afamous author some day, or with Lloyd, who seemed to have everythingthat heart could wish, or with Eugenia with all her lovely presents andtrousseau and the new home on the Hudson waiting for her. But just nowshe was so happy that she wouldn't even have stepped into a fairy-tale.
Presently, through the dripping window-panes, she saw Alec plodding upthe avenue under an umbrella, his pockets bulging with mail packages,papers, and letters. Betty, at her window up-stairs, saw him also, andcame running down the steps, followed by Eugenia. The old Colonel,hearing the call, "The mail's here," opened the door of his den, andjoined the group in the hall where Betty proceeded to sort out theletters. A registered package from Stuart was the first thing thatEugenia tore open, and the others looked up from their letters at herpleased exclamation:
"Oh, it's the charms for the bride's cake!"
"Ornaments for the top?" asked Rob, as she lifted the layer ofjeweller's cotton and disclosed a small gold thimble, and a narrowwedding-ring.
"No! Who ever heard of such a thing!" she laughed. "Haven't you heard ofthe traditional charms that must be baked in a bride's cake? It is atoken of the fate one may expect who finds it in his slice of cake.Eliot taught me the old rhyme:
"'Four tokens must the bridescake hold: A silver shilling and a ring of gold, A crystal charm good luck to symbol, And for the spinster's hand a thimble.'
"Eliot firmly believes that the tokens are a prophecy, for years ago, ather cousin's wedding in England, she got the spinster's thimble. Thegirl who found the ring was married within the year, and the one whofound the shilling shortly came into an inheritance. True, it didn'tamount to much,--about five pounds,--but the coincidence firmlyconvinced Eliot of the truth of the superstition. In this country peopleusually take a dime instead of a shilling, but I told Stuart that Iwanted to follow the custom strictly to the letter. And look what a dearhe is! Here is a _bona fide_ English shilling, that he took the troubleto get for me."
Phil took up the bit of silver she had placed beside the thimble and thering, and looked it over critically. "Well, I'll declare!" he exclaimed."That was Aunt Patricia's old shilling! I'd swear to it. See the way thehole is punched, just between those two ugly old heads? And I rememberthe dent just below the date. Looks as if some one had tried to bite it.Aunt Patricia used to keep it in her treasure-box with her gold beadsand other keepsakes."
The old Colonel, who had once had a fad for collecting coins, and owneda large assortment, held out his hand for it. Adjusting his glasses, heexamined it carefully. "Ah! Most interesting," he observed. "Coined inthe reign of 'Bloody Mary,' and bearing the heads of Queen Mary and KingPhilip. You remember this shilling is mentioned in Butler's 'Hudibras:'
"'Still amorous and fond and billing, Like Philip and Mary on a shilling.'
"You couldn't have a more appropriate token for your cake, my dear," hesaid to Eugenia with a smile. Then he laid it on the table, and takingup his papers, passed back into his den.
"That's the first time I ever heard my name in a poem," said Phil. "Byrights I ought to draw that shilling in my share of cake. If I do Ishall take it as a sign that history is going to repeat itself, andshall look around for a ladye-love named Mary. Now I know a dozen songswith that name, and such things always come in handy when 'a frog hewould a-wooing go,' There's 'My Highland Mary' and 'Mary of Argyle,'and 'Mistress Mary, quite contrary,' and 'Mary, call the cattle home,across the sands of Dee!'"
As he rattled thoughtlessly on, nothing was farther from his thoughtsthan the self-conscious little Mary just behind him. Nobody saw her facegrow red, however, for Lloyd's exclamation over the last token madeevery one crowd around her to see.
It was a small heart-shaped charm of crystal, probably intended for awatch-fob. There was a four-leaf clover, somehow mysteriously imbeddedin the centre.
"That ought to be doubly lucky," said Eugenia. "Oh, _what_ a dear Stuartwas to take so much trouble to get the very nicest things. They couldn'tbe more suitable."
"Eugenia," asked Betty, "have you thought of that other rhyme thatbrides always consider? You know you should wear
"'Something old, something new, Something borrowed, something blue.'"
"Yes, Eliot insisted on that, too. The whole outfit will, itself, besomething new, the lace that was on my mother's wedding-gown will be thesomething old. I thought I'd borrow a hairpin apiece from you girls,and I haven't decided yet about the something blue."
"No," objected Lloyd. "The borrowed articles ought to be somethingreally valuable. Let me lend you my little pearl clasps to fasten yourveil, and then for the something blue, there is your turquoisebutterfly. You can slip it on somewhere, undah the folds of lace."
"What a lot of fol-de-rol there is about a wedding," said Rob. "As if itmade a particle of difference whether you wear pink or green! _Why_ mustit be blue?"
There was an indignant protest from all the girls, and Rob made hisescape to the library, calling to Joyce to come and finish the game ofchess.
That evening, Mary, sitting on the floor of the library in front of thePoets' Corner, took down volume after volume to scan its index. She waslooking for the songs Phil had mentioned, which contained her name. Atthe same time she also kept watch for the name of Philip. She rememberedshe had read some lines one time about "Philip my King."
As she pored over the poems in the dim light, for only the shaded lampon the central table was burning, she heard steps on the porch outside.The rain had stopped early in the afternoon, and the porches had driedso that the hammocks and chairs could be put out again. Now voicessounded just outside the window where she sat, and the creaking of ascrew in the post told that some one was sitting in the hammock.Evidently it was Lloyd, for Phil's voice sounded nearer the window. Hehad seated himself in the armchair that always stood in that niche, andwas tuning a guitar. As soon as it was keyed up to his satisfaction, hebegan thrumming on it, a sort of running accompaniment to theirconversation.
It did not occur to Mary that she was eavesdropping, for they weretalking of impersonal things, just the trifles of the hour; and shecaught only a word now and then as she scanned the story of Enoch Arden.The name Philip, in it, had arrested her attention.
"I think
the maid of honor ought to wear something blue as well as thebride," remarked Phil.
"_Why?_" asked Lloyd.
There was such a long pause that Mary looked up, wondering why he didnot answer.
"_Why?_" asked Lloyd again.
Phil thrummed on a moment longer, and then began playing in a soft minorkey, and his answer, when it finally came, seemed at first to have noconnection with what he had been talking about.
"Do you remember when we were in Arizona, the picnic we had atHole-in-the-rock, and the story that that old Norwegian told aboutAlaka, the gambling god, who lost his string of precious turquoises andeven his eyes?"
"Yes."
Mary looked up from her book, listening alertly. The mystery of yearswas about to be explained.
"Well, do you remember a conversation you had with Joyce about itafterward, in which you called the turquoise the 'friendship stone,'because it was true blue? And you said it was a pity that some peopleyou knew, not a thousand miles away, couldn't go to the School of theBees, and learn that line from Watts about Satan finding mischief foridle hands to do. And Joyce said yes, it was too bad for a fine fellowto get into trouble just because he was a drone, and had no ambition tomake anything of himself; that if Alaka had gone to the School of theBees he wouldn't have lost his eyes. And then you said that if somebodykept on he would at least lose his turquoises. Do you remember allthat?"
The screw in the post stopped creaking as Lloyd sat straight up in thehammock to exclaim in astonishment: "Yes, I remembah, but how undah thesun, Phil Tremont, do _you_ happen to know anything about thatconvahsation? You were not there."
"No, but little Mary Ware was. She didn't have the faintest idea thatyou meant me, and that Sunday morning when I called at the Wigwam forthe last time to make my apologies and farewells, and you were notthere, she told me all about it like the blessed little chatterbox thatshe was. Then, when I saw plainly that I had forfeited my right to yourfriendship, I did not wait to say good-by, just left a message for youwith Mary. I knew she would attempt to deliver it, but I have wonderedmany times since if she gave it in the words I told her. Of course Icouldn't expect you to remember the exact words after all this time."
"But it happens that I do," answered Lloyd. "She said, 'Alaka has losthis precious turquoises, but he will win them back again some day.'"
"Did you understand what I meant, Lloyd?"
"Well, I--I guessed at yoah meaning."
"Mary unwittingly did me a good turn that morning. She was an angelunawares, for she showed me myself as you saw me, a drone in the hive,with no ambition, and the gambling fever in my veins making a fool ofme. I went away vowing I would win back your respect and make myselfworthy of your friendship, and I can say honestly that I have kept thatvow. Soon after, while I was out on that first surveying trip I cameacross some unset stones for a mere song. This little turquoise wasamong them." He took the tiny stone from his pocket and held it out onhis palm, so that the light streaming out from the library fell acrossit.
"I have carried it ever since. Many a time it has reminded me of you andyour good opinion I was trying to win back. I've had lots of temptationsto buck against, and there have been times when they almost downed me,but I say it in all humility, Lloyd, this little bit of turquoise keptme 'true blue,' and I've lived straight enough to ask you to take itnow, in token that you do think me worthy of your friendship. When Iheard Eugenia talking about wearing something blue at the wedding, I hada fancy that it would be an appropriate thing for the maid of honor todo, too."
Lloyd took the little stone he offered, and held it up to the light.
"It certainly is true blue," she said, with a smile, "and I'm suah youare too, now. I didn't need this to tell me how well you've been doingsince you left Arizona. We've heard a great deal about yoah successesfrom Cousin Carl."
"Then let me have it set in a ring for you," he added. "There will beplenty of time before the wedding."
"No," she answered, hastily. "I couldn't do that. Papa Jack wouldn'tlike it. He wouldn't allow me to accept anything from a man in the wayof jewelry, you know. I couldn't take it as a ring. Now just this littleunset stone"--she hesitated. "Just this bit of a turquoise that you saycost only a trifle, I'm suah he wouldn't mind that. I'll tell him it'sjust my friendship stone."
"What a particular little maid of honor you are!" he exclaimed. "Howmany girls of seventeen do you know who would take the trouble to go totheir fathers with a trifle like that, and make a careful explanationabout it? Besides, you can't tell him that it is _only_ a friendshipstone. I want it to mean more than that to you, Lloyd. I want it tostand for a great deal more between us. Don't you see how I care--how Imust have cared all this time, to let the thought of you make such adifference in my life?"
There was no mistaking the deep tenderness of his voice or theearnestness of his question. Lloyd felt the blood surge up in her faceand her heart throbbed so fast she could hear it beat. But she hastilythrust back the proffered turquoise, saying, in confusion:
"Then I can't wear it! Take it back, please; I promised Papa Jack--"
"Promised him what?" asked Phil, as she hesitated.
"Well, it's rathah hard to explain," she began in much confusion,"unless you knew the story of 'The Three Weavahs.' Then you'dundahstand."
"But I don't know it, and I'd rather like an explanation of some kind. Ithink you'll have to make it clear to me why you can't accept it, andwhat it was you promised your father."
"Oh, I can't tell it to make it sound like anything," she began,desperately. "It was like this. No, I can't tell it. Come in the house,and I'll get the book and let you read it for yoahself!"
"No, I'd rather hear the reason from your own lips. Besides, some onewould interrupt us in there, and I want to understand where I'm 'at'before that happens."
"Well," she began again, "it is a story Mrs. Walton told us once whenour Shadow Club was in disgrace, because one of the girls eloped, and wewere all in such trouble about it that we vowed we'd be old maids.Afterward it was the cause of our forming another club that we calledthe 'Ordah of Hildegarde.' I'll give you a sawt of an outline now, ifyou'll promise to read the entiah thing aftahward."
"I'll promise," agreed Phil.
"Then, this is it. Once there were three maidens, of whom it was writtenin the stahs that each was to wed a prince, provided she could weave amantle that should fit his royal shouldahs as the falcon's feathahs fitthe falcon. Each had a mirror beside her loom like the Lady of Shalott'sin which the shadows of the world appeahed.
"One maiden wove in secret, and falling in love with a page who dailypassed her mirror, imagined him to be a prince, and wove her web to fithis unworthy shouldahs. Of co'se when the real prince came it was toosmall, and so she missed the happiness that was written for her in thestahs.
"The second squandahed her warp of gold first on one, then anothah,weaving mantles for any one who happened to take her fancy--a shepherdboy and a troubador, a student and a knight. When her prince rode byshe had nothing left to offah him, so she missed _her_ life's happiness.
"But the third had a deah old fathah like Papa Jack, and he gave her asilvah yahdstick on which was marked the inches and ells that a trueprince ought to be. And he warned her like this:
"'Many youths will come to thee, each begging, "Give _me_ the royalmantle, Hildegarde. _I_ am the prince the stahs have destined for thee."And with honeyed words he'll show thee how the mantle in the loom isjust the length to fit his shouldahs. But let him not persuade thee tocut it loose and give it to him as thy young fingahs will be fain to do.Weave on anothah yeah and yet anothah, till thou, a woman grown, canmeasuah out a perfect web, moah ample than these stripling youths couldcarry, but which will fit thy prince in faultlessness, as the falcon'sfeathahs fit the falcon.'
"Then Hildegarde took the silvah yahdstick and said, 'You may trust me,fathah. I will not cut the golden warp from out the loom, until I, awoman grown, have woven such a web as thou thyself shalt say is worthyof a p
rince's wearing.' (That's what I promised Papa Jack.)
"Of co'se it turned out, that one day with her fathah's blessing lightupon her, she rode away beside the prince, and evah aftah all her lifewas crowned with happiness, as it had been written for her in thestahs."
There was a long pause when she finished, so long that the silence beganto grow painful. Then Phil said, slowly:
"I understand now. Would you mind telling me what the measure was yourfather gave you that your prince must be?"
"There were three notches. He must be clean and honahable and strong."
There was another long pause before Phil said, "Well, I wouldn't bemeasuring up to that second notch if I asked you to break your promiseto your father, and you wouldn't do it even if I did. So there's nothingmore for me to say at present. But I'll ask this much. You'll keep theturquoise if we count it merely a friendship stone, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll be glad to do that. And I'll weah it at the wedding if youwant me to, as my bit of something blue. I'll slip it down into myglove."
"Thank you," he answered, then added, after a pause: "And I supposethere's another thing. That yardstick keeps all the other fellows at adistance, too. That's something to be cheerful over. But you mark mywords--I'm doing a bit of prophesying now--when your real prince comesyou'll know him by this: he'll come singing this song. Listen."
Picking up his guitar again, he struck one full deep chord and begansinging softly the "Bedouin Love-song," "From the desert I come tothee." The refrain floated tremulously through the library window.
"Till the stars are old, And the sun grows cold, And the leaves of the judgment Book unfold."
It brought back the whole moonlighted desert to Lloyd, with the odor oforange-blossoms wafted across it, as it had been on two eventfuloccasions they rode over it together. She sat quite still in thehammock, with the bit of turquoise clasped tight in her hand. It washard to listen to such a beautiful voice unmoved. It thrilled her as nosong had ever done before.
As it floated into the library, it thrilled Mary also, but in adifferent way; for with a guilty start she realized that she had beenlistening to something not meant for her to hear.
"Oh, what have I done! What have I done!" she whispered to herself,dropping the book and noiselessly wringing her hands. She could hearvoices on the stairs now. Eugenia and Betty were coming down, and Rob'swhistle down the avenue told that he was on his way to join them. Tooashamed to face any one just then, and afraid that her guilty face wouldbetray the fact to Phil and Lloyd that she shared their secret, shehurried out of the library and up to her room, where Joyce wasrearranging her hair. In response to Joyce's question about her comingup so early in the evening, she said she had thought of something shewanted to write in her journal. But when Joyce had gone down she did notbegin writing immediately. Turning down the lamp until the room wasalmost in darkness, she sat with her elbows on the window-sill staringout into the night.
"I never _meant_ to do it!" she kept explaining to her conscience. "Itjust did itself. It seemed all right to listen at first, when they weretalking about things I had a right to know, and then I got sointerested, it was like reading a story, and I couldn't go away becauseI forgot there was such a person living as _me_. But Lloyd mightn'tunderstand how it was. She'd scorn to be an eavesdropper herself, andshe'd scorn and despise me if she knew that I just sat there like agraven image and listened to Phil the same as propose to her."
Hitherto Mary had looked upon Malcolm as Lloyd's especial knight, andhad planned to be his valiant champion should need for her services everarise. But this put matters in a different light. All her sympathieswere enlisted in Phil's behalf now. She liked Phil the best, and shewanted him to have whatever he wanted. He had called her his "angelunawares," and she wished she could do something to further deserve thattitle. Then she began supposing things.
Suppose she should come tripping down the stairs some day (this would besometime in the future, of course, when Lloyd's promise to her fatherwas no longer binding) and should find Phil pacing the room withimpatient strides because the maid of honor had gone off with Sir Fealto the opera or somewhere, in preference to him, on account of somemisunderstanding. "The little rift within the lute" would be making thebest man's music mute, and now would be her time to play angel unawaresagain.
She would trip in lightly, humming a song perhaps, and finding him moodyand downcast, would begin the conversation with some appropriatequotation. In looking through the dictionary the day before, her eye hadcaught one from Shakespeare, which she had stored away in her memory touse on some future occasion. Yes, that one would be very appropriate tobegin the conversation. She would go up to him and say, archly:
"My lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him."
With that a smile would flit across his stern features, and presently hewould be moved to confide in her, and she would encourage him. Then, shedidn't know yet exactly in what way it could come about, she would dosomething to bring the two together again, and wipe out the bittermisunderstanding.
It was a very pleasing dream. That and others like it kept her sittingby the window till nearly bedtime. Then, just before the girls cameup-stairs, she turned up the lamp and made an entry in her journal. Withthe fear that some prying eye might some day see that page, she omittedall names, using only initials. It would have puzzled the Sphinx herselfto have deciphered that entry, unless she had guessed that the initialsstood for titles instead of names. The last paragraph concluded: "It nowlies between Sir F. and the B. M., but I think it will be the B. M. whowill get the mantle, for Sir F. and his brother have gone away on ayachting trip. The M. of H. does not know that I know, and the secretweighs heavy on my mind."
She was in bed when the girls came up, but the door into the next roomstood open and she heard Betty say, "Oh, we forgot to give you AlexShelby's message, Lloyd. Joyce and I met him on our way to thepost-office. He was walking with Bernice. He sent his greetings to thefair Elaine. He fairly raved over the way you looked in that moonlighttableau."
"It was evident that Bernice didn't enjoy his raptures very much," addedJoyce. "Her face showed that she was not only bored, but displeased."
"I can imagine it," said Lloyd. "Really, girls, I think this is aserious case with Bernice. She seems to think moah of Mistah Shelby thanany one who has evah gone to see her, and she is old enough now to haveit mean something. She's neahly twenty, you know. I do hope he thinks asmuch of her as she does of him."
"There!" whispered Mary to herself, nodding wisely in the darkness ofher room, as if to an unseen listener. "I knew it! I told you so! Allthe king's horses and all the king's men couldn't make me believe she'dstoop to such a thing as that nasty Bernice Howe insinuated. She's amaid of honor in every way!"