Part 6

"You did _not_ succeed in inducing Aunt Patricia to make you the visit while I am here, did you? I am sorry, although not surprised. Richard went to see her not long ago and she seemed rather pathetically pleased, made him stay in the house with her and would hardly allow him out of her sight. She refused, however, to forgive me for whatever imaginary wrong I have committed. She says now that she had grown so old and difficult that I returned to the stage largely in order to be rid of her and that she refuses to be any further burden upon me. And this in view of the fact that Aunt Patricia has taken care of me as if I were a child, has lavished her wealth and time and strength upon me and never allowed me to do anything of any kind to repay her. Well, I am through with making repeated efforts to have her forgive me, for what I am not sure. Alice Ashton and Vera Lagerloff seem to have taken my place and I trust she may find them more satisfying than she ever did me. At no time do I remember Aunt Patricia's approving of anything I ever thought or did."

"Don't talk as if you were a spoiled child, Polly; at any moment you need Aunt Patricia she will come to you at once."

Mrs. Burton shook her head.

"No, I shall never allow it, or accept any favor from her again. I told Richard this when he returned and said Aunt Patricia still declined to have anything to do with me. I asked him to write this to her, that I should not trouble her at any time in the future. But about Juliet Temple! The child is alone in my New York apartment; Richard is out of town on business for a few days, and I am afraid she is lonely. She has no friends and no relatives except a brother, whom I am afraid, from what she has told me, is not of much account. She seems fond of him, however, and they come from this part of the country I believe; I am not sure just where. As for trusting Juliet to attend to my business affairs, there is an especial reason why I wish her to appreciate that I have entire faith in her. She gave me her confidence upon an occasion when there was no necessity for it and I have always believed in her. As far as money goes, Betty, I am not rich enough to be a temptation to anyone. You know that Richard and I made some unfortunate investments after our return from France and lost the small estate we had saved between us. You did not know that other people were also involved and because Richard was one of the officers of the company, we both feel that we want to pay back to them at least a portion of what they lost. I made a good deal of money last winter, but have kept only what we need for our personal expenses until fall, when I start to work."

"Oh, Polly, you are so quixotic and so unpractical! Suppose you should fall ill again? But there, forgive me, I should not have spoken of such a possibility. When we are both old and you have grown tired of being famous and admired, will you come here and live with me at my 'House by the Blue Lagoon'?"

Mrs. Burton laughed.

"Yes, Betty dear, I'll hide somewhere in one of your secret passages, while you entertain house parties of distinguished persons from Washington, or elsewhere--Senators, Ambassadors, even Congressmen. With all my love for my work, it is you who are admired and who care for society. Small wonder Bettina was never able to keep up with you! Here comes Bettina with her shadows, Elce and the little girl she brought from the settlement. 'Ardelia in Arcady'! Do you recall the old story of the child who came from the city to the country and was expected to care for it and did not? It was very amusing. Bettina's latest protege is a pathetic little figure, with her crutch and her city pallor, but she feels dreadfully lost on your desert island amid all this beauty and romance. She is a little daughter of the tenement! I believe I can understand her better than you or Bettina."

"Princess, what are our visitors doing? Polly and I ran away for an hour's quiet talk. She is to learn to love our place nearly as much as I do," Mrs. Graham exclaimed.

Bettina Graham came nearer. She looked grave and sweet, although a little smile showed at the corners of her lips.

"Oh, they are perfectly well entertained without us, dear, and I thought Maida and Elce needed my society for a little while.

"We have small hope of seeing much of you and Tante for a few days until you have grown accustomed to the wholly new experience of being with each other. You are worse than lovers.

"Actually, mother, your house party has accepted your suggestion and has set to work to make you a garden, a new garden where the old one has been this hundred or more years. It is a charming idea! We are to leave such shrubs and roses as will bloom. David Hale and Dan Webster have taken charge and say we are to work two hours every morning, before we are allowed to do anything else--boat, or bathe, or fish, or sail. It is to be a memory or a friendship garden, although we intend to find a prettier and more original title. Anyhow, the garden is to commemorate our first Camp Fire house party by the blue lagoon. Isn't the place exquisite, Tante? Sitting here by the lagoon can one imagine the poverty and sorrow I see every day in my settlement work, or such an experience as Maida's, whose father is responsible for her lameness? Forgive me, mother, I promised myself not to speak of these things, or even to think of them while I am on your enchanted island."

"This is not my kingdom, Princess, but yours when you will come home to it, yours and Polly's. It is only you people who work for others who deserve enchanted islands. I am delighted to hear about my new garden and my gardeners. We must send for all the flowers we can think of, as April is the perfect month for planting. Do you know I always have wanted a blue garden, I suppose because I have loved blue more than any color all my life and wondered why there were so few blue flowers. Suppose we plant only blue flowers here by the blue lagoon.

"You stay here, dear, I must go and see about luncheon. Bring Polly back with you. I don't want her to go off alone to explore our island and am afraid she has it in mind. One always has the feeling that she will slip away from one somehow."

"No such good fortune, Betty! Bettina, while I think of it, mother has agreed to let me have Juliet Temple here with me, although I am afraid you girls do not want her. I wish you would not be so prejudiced and unfair. She will not be troublesome or intrude on you I am sure, but you will try and see that she has an agreeable time."

"Naturally, Tante, I am not apt to be rude to a guest and will do what I can. Your Camp Fire girls hoped you would be willing to allow us to be with you and do whatever you wished to have done for the little time you are here. If you cannot get on without Juliet Temple, we shall of course be friendly to her. She has been unfriendly, we never have."

"You are cross already, Bettina. Will you speak to Sally? Obviously Sally does not like Juliet, and Sally has a habit of frankness. Tell her I shall be hurt and displeased if she is not especially kind. Now let us talk of something else. Ask Elce and your little lame girl to come and sit by us.

"Elce, if you will sing for me some day all alone here by the blue lagoon, I'll recite a poem to you about these old trees:

"When by the spring's enchanting blue, You trace your slender leaves and few, Then do I wish myself re-born To lands of hope, to lands of morn.

"And when your wear your rich attire, Your autumn garments touched with fire, I want again that ardent soul That dared the race and dreamed the goal.

"But, oh, when leafless dark and high, You rise against this winter's sky, I hear God's word: "Stand still and see How fair is mine austerity.

"Come, let us go back to the house, it must be nearly lunch time."

*CHAPTER X*

*ONE NIGHT*

The grounds surrounding the old house were hung with Chinese lanterns.

Walking about in the semi-darkness were groups of figures, ordinarily two in number.

In the big drawing-room the music had just ceased, while the musicians were having their supper and a brief rest. Senator and Mrs. Graham were giving an informal dance for their daughter and house party.

Other guests had crossed over from the mainland, which was not an hour's journey in a motor boat or one of the small steamboats that carried mail and provisions, but was apt to be a long crossing in the uncertainty of a sail, and almost impossible in a rowboat, unless one were a singularly strong oarsman.

There were half a dozen young officers from the fort and as many girls from a fashionable hotel on the Virginia coast.

"Sally, it has been utterly impossible to have a word with you, to say nothing of a dance! A fellow likes a girl to be a good dancer, but not so good that he never has a chance with her. I must say that you and Robert Burton look pretty well together, he dances almost as well as you do and makes me feel awkward and clumsy. Somehow I am surprised that you are such a fine dancer, Sally, when you don't like other kinds of exercise," Dan Webster concluded.

"If you are going to start our walk, Dan, enumerating my faults, I do not intend to go one step with you, although it is one of your favorite amusements. All very well we have known each other a long time, but I do not think that a sufficient excuse."

Arm in arm Sally Ashton and Dan Webster were sauntering away from the veranda toward a more deserted portion of the lawn.

Sally spoke in the demure tone and manner, which oftentimes disturbed her companion, since he was not able to guess whether she were in earnest or amusing herself at his expense.

"Nonsense, Sally, I could not enumerate your faults for any length of time! I only think you possess two or three faults, and sometimes, not often, I have been known to speak of them.

"At present I cannot imagine what I have said or done to annoy you, unless following you around all evening and trying to induce you to pay some slight attention to me has troubled you. In that case of course in future I shall leave you alone.

"I joined the house party when it was extremely difficult for me to be spared from the farm, chiefly in order to see you. I have seen less of you than any one else and at times this has not looked like an accident. If this is true will you be kind enough to be frank."

Sally gave her companion's arm a slight squeeze.

"Don't be such a bear, Dan. You always were a surly small boy when you were annoyed in the days we used to play together.

"There is a hammock under the linden trees; let us sit down if you do not mind, I am a little tired after dancing so long. You know perfectly well how much engaged we all have been since our arrival at the island. You reproach me for not deliberately separating myself from the others, when I have not said a single word to you for failing to write me a half dozen letters all during the past winter. I suppose you were writing to so many other persons!"

"No such thing, Sally. As you well know, I simply can't write letters that are worth a row of pins; they never seem to express what I think or feel, and I am afraid of boring you. If I speak of something now, you won't consider that I intend criticizing you; I suppose I do keep more of a watch on you than on other girls, because I am more interested. Twice lately you have deserted every one in the house party and gone off somewhere to some mysterious part of the island alone. Please don't repeat this. You see it does not look well and worries me. The island is fairly deserted, but there are spots where fishing boats might land, or people out for a holiday. If you feel you want to be alone, I can follow you and promise not to interfere in any way."

In a hammock swung by chains in a small grove of linden trees, Dan and Sally sat down.

The April night was surprisingly warm with a breath of summer that comes now and then in the southern spring. The tiny blooms of the trees made a shower of fragrant gold about them. From beyond blew the salt breath of the sea.

Sally remained quiet a moment before replying.

"You are very kind, Dan, I am sorry you have noticed that I have gone away once or twice alone. I have not been in the slightest danger and had a definite reason for going. I can't tell you what this is, probably it is not of any consequence, yet I must ask you under no circumstances to follow me."

"And I decline to make you such a promise, Sally, in fact I forbid your wandering about the island alone. If there is any mystery connected with your behavior, I thought you hated mysteries; in fact you assured me that after your experience in caring for Lieutenant Fleury[*] in France, you were through with all secrecy forever!"

[*] See "Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France."

"There is no especial mystery in what I am interested in at present, Dan, at least nothing of importance. Indeed, I am indulging in a whim, and as I am doing no one any harm I think I have the right. Perhaps I shall not keep up my quest very long, only a few days until I make a discovery," she added, feeling a stiffening of the figure beside her and appreciating, without having to behold the firm line of the lips. She and Dan Webster had known each other so many years that there were traits of his character she thoroughly understood.

"Besides," she protested, as an afterthought, "you have not the faintest right to forbid my doing anything I wish."

"No, I suppose not," Dan returned, not looking toward Sally, but at the old house a short distance away, shadowy and stately under the stars. "I presume I never shall have that right, even if you come to care for me some day as I hope you may care. Indeed, I almost believed you would when we parted last, but now I see what an ass I was. I told you then I would not speak of this until you were older and I had made something of myself. I never will amount to much, Sally, I see that pretty plainly here in comparison with only a small group of other fellows. David Hale is the real thing, brilliant and ambitious and knows what an educated man should know. Allan Drain is the artist with his writing of poetry and plays. He talks in a way that makes you sit up now and then, even when you do not agree with him or get all he means. Philip Stead is a student and will end by being a professor. Robert Burton I don't understand so well, although he has something none of the rest of us have, not just good looks and good manners, while I--well, Sally, I only want to make things grow, to watch the wheat ripen and turn gold, the cows on the old New Hampshire hillsides feeding beside their calves. The farm is double the size it was once and I intend it shall be four times larger. I mean to gather men about me interested in making agriculture what it should be and farmers' lives the most independent and worth while. When I am rich, rich as ever I am apt to be, I plan to found an agricultural school and to give the land and the benefit of the experience I have had and my father and grandfather before me. Don't think I fail to realize how dull this sounds; when I speak of it most people yawn or struggle to appear polite and change the subject. I don't care, it is only how you feel, Sally, that matters. You have had so much experience and this past winter in New York has changed you more even than the years abroad. Once upon a time you would have granted the small favor I just asked you, now you won't even do this for me."

"Dan, you _are_ stupid; I wonder sometimes if I shall ever make you understand how dull you are on _one_ particular subject. At present I'd rather you would not know. As for doing the favor you asked, I won't because I have a reason which I believe justifies my refusing. You know how obstinate I am, everybody who knows me is of the same opinion on the subject. Why not try to trust me? As to the effect the past winter has had, I do feel older and more self-reliant. Mary Gilchrist was ill almost the entire winter and I had the care of her, then I was the housekeeper for the Camp Fire girls. Never apologize to me for _your_ stupidity, Dan, dear, which I don't think is apparent to any one save you. Among the Sunrise Camp Fire, no one even thinks of disputing the recognized fact that I am the least clever of all the girls. I do not even mind especially. I find life interesting and after all one cannot make oneself over altogether!"

For the first time in the interview Dan laughed, a good natured, boyish laugh, full of strength and sweetness.

"If you are stupid, Sally, then I am proud to be in the same company with you. I should like to know what Tante thinks of you! You may be less interested in books and more in human beings."

In the half darkness Sally smiled.

A lantern in one of the trees overhead swung and tilted so that the light shone down on her face.

Sally wore her rose-colored net and had a scarf of the same rose color about her shoulders. Tucked under her brown coil of hair in the fashion of the women who had danced in this old southern house and paraded its lawns a century ago, was a pink rose, a little crumpled now and faded.

Dan put up his hand and touched the rose gently, one could scarcely have thought there could be such gentleness in the strong fingers.

"Give me your rose, please, Sally; I don't know just why I want it, but I do. I never could see much sense in fellows wanting to hold on to things like this before."

Sally jumped up suddenly and the little rose fell to the ground.

"Please be careful, Dan, here comes Tante and she may see you. I don't know what she would think."

The girl's movement arrested Mrs. Burton's attention.

She was walking about in the silver night with Senator Graham, whom she had known many years before as a poor boy, with little education, with nearly every handicap, lack of family, of influence and position. He was now one of the distinguished men of the country.

"Is that you, Sally and Dan? May I speak to you? Anthony, go back to Betty and see that she rests for a few moments, she is the most tireless hostess in the world! Sally and Dan will escort me to the house if I am not able to walk the few yards alone. And will you tell Betty that if I disappear I have gone up to my own room. I shall listen to the music until the dancing ends and then go to bed. The boat goes back at midnight, so I suppose the dancing can't last much longer."

Mrs. Burton sat down in the hammock between Sally and Dan, slipping a hand into each of theirs.

Dan Webster was her nephew, the son of her twin sister and of the man who had been under the impression that he cared for her before his discovery that they were entirely unsuited, and that the sister, who was her opposite in everything save her personal appearance, was the real love of his life.[*]

[*] See "Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows."

Sally Ashton was the daughter of two friends of her girlhood.

With no children of her own, Mrs. Burton cherished a deep affection for Sally and for Dan, but for different reasons. One reason was the same--she had a feeling of dependence upon them both. Dan was nearly like her son. Sally Ashton, well, most people who knew Sally intimately did depend upon her, without being able to explain why.

"Children, do a favor for me. You'll hate it, but Sally has promised. Come with me and find Juliet Temple and see if she is having a good time. If she is not you'll dance with her, Dan, and make yourself agreeable? Juliet has not been here so long as the rest of you and I am afraid feels lonely. She seems to spend most of her time alone. You like her well enough, don't you, Dan?"

"Of course, Tante, she seems all right, strikes me as clever. She isn't about much; when she is, it never occurred to me that she would be interested in me. If you are fond of her I'll do my best."

Dan put his arm about Mrs. Burton's waist.

"You are coming to the farm to be with us for a time when you finish your visit to the 'House by the Blue Lagoon'? Mother will never forgive you and will perish of jealousy if you do not. She does not enjoy the idea that you are fonder of Aunt Betty than of your own twin sister. We both wish you would give up that plagued stage and you and Uncle Richard live with us until you are a little less like a wraith. But see here, Tante, I'll strike a bargain with you. Sally will have nothing to do with me at present. If you will promise to bring her with you to the farm for a visit this summer I shall devote myself while I am here to your Juliet Temple, that is, if she will allow it."

Mrs. Burton smiled.

"Dan, I suppose you know you are like your father, only nicer. I don't want you to be so attentive as to deceive Juliet, only to see that she has a good time. I have been looking for her for the past hour and she does not seem to have danced with any one."

"Juliet may have gone for a walk, Tante, I think I saw her a short time ago. I have not forgotten that you said you wished me to have her in mind," Sally remarked. In her speech, or in her manner there was nothing that was unusual, nevertheless both Dan and the Camp Fire guardian were aware of bewilderment.

"Do you mind walking about with me for a few moments and trying to find her? Of course I know _you do_ mind, but will you in any case?" Mrs. Burton pleaded.

"I am a tiresome woman, Dan, to have interrupted your talk with Sally, but I will make it up to you some day. Sally is difficult, but worth the effort. You must promise me that you will say nothing to her and even feel nothing for the next few years, then I will be your warmest ally," Mrs. Burton whispered, walking close beside the tall fellow who towered nearly a foot above her, while Sally moved along the path in front of them, a figure of rose and silver.

Half an hour later the Camp Fire guardian was sitting in her room half reading, half listening to the music and voices in the house and garden beneath her open windows.

She was in her dressing gown and her hair was unbound. The big room was in shadow, save where the light fell about her reading-lamp. One could see the tall ceilings, the high windows, the few pieces of old English furniture, brought to America by the early Virginia settlers.

There was a faint noise of a door being softly pushed open in the adjoining room.

"Juliet, is that you?" Mrs. Burton inquired. "Are you tired of the dance and on your way to bed as I am? I looked for you before I came up and could not find you, I suppose you were somewhere in the grounds."

"Yes, I was. Is there anything I can do for you? Is your bed turned down?" the girl answered.

Mrs. Burton nodded.

"I believe so, but you must be more tired than I am, so please don't trouble about me to-night. You are too considerate of me altogether. There is some business in the morning I should like to have you help me with for an hour or more. My accounts seemed to have become tangled in the most absurd fashion and I should like to have them straightened out before Captain Burton joins us. You are a good mathematician, Juliet, and neither of us are. Now go to bed."

The girl lingered.